MAGAZINE.

MR. URBAN,

Aug. 1.

Elizabeth," ANTIQUITIES will never

age of Literature, and yet nothing is more different than the period in which we live (with respect to literary matters) and that in which Octavius Cæsar swayed the sceptre. Then a few good writers, who took years and years in modelling and remodelling their compositions, reigned absolutely over the public mind, and were not only without a rival, but without any competitor whatsover. Now every tenth man is an author; a popular writer is imitated by a thousand others, and every month produces a new work from every author whose productions meet with success. Those who cannot publish works themselves, contribute to the inferior Magazines; nay even translators of Horace, "under fifteen years of age," have "Scientific Receptacles" for their accomodation. To such an extent is this cacoethes scribendi carried, that at Hazlewood school the boys write, edit, illustrate, print, and publish, wholly unassisted, a monthly Magazine! O scribendi sacra fames! quid non mortalia pectora cogis!

In the Augustan era of Rome the publication of a new work was an event, and few of the literati, if any, omitted reading it; now, to go through what even every day produces, would be an Herculean task. The critics then considered a work only brought forth six years before as completely new; now, the "last new novel of the author of Waverley," grows old in six weeks. To review the vast number of publications is impossible; perhaps, however, a brief synopsis might be given, in which the existing state of the various departments of literature may be easily pointed out.

While Parliament-street boasts the author of "The Progresses of Queen

from his pen would, like his "Literary Anecdotes," be invaluable. As I observe, Mr. Urban, that you derive many of the most valuable and interesting articles in your Magazine from him, perhaps this suggestion might not be useless, and we might at length boast one account of the Metropolis since Stowe's, executed by a man worthy of the subject. I am convinced that the public would receive the work as it ought. The Reverend T. Fos broke is also one of the best antiquaries of whom England could ever boast. Mr. S. W. Singer has given the public some most interesting works for instance, Spence's "Anecdotes,' and Cavendish's "Life of Wolsey." Mr. Britton's beautifully illustrated works cannot be too highly appreci ated; and Mr. Rutter treads in his steps, passibus æquis. Lodge's "Portraits of Illustrious Personages," and Blore's "Monumental Remains," are equally worthy of praise; no library can be deemed complete without them. Mr. Ellis's "Original Letters" are judiciously selected, and the idea is admirable. May we hope that some other manuscripts of the British Museum may soon appear from the same hand. Antiquaries are so numerous, that I am compelled to bid them adieu, without enumerating more.

Perhaps I should have mentioned Mr. Singer in the list of BIOGRAPHERS, since his Wolsey is his latest work. Galt occupies one of the first places in this department. His life of the Cardinal is excellent. But perhaps that by George Howard may be reckoned equal to it, although that is inferior to "Lady Jane Grey," by Howard himself. The latter is a most interesting work, and may be read ten times with increased admiration and

de

1825.]

and "Madoc," will ever immortalize Southey, and his "Tale of Paraguay," will not lower his fame. Hogg is the most unequal poet now existing. He is often sublime, and often ridiculous; and thirty lines cannot be quoted from his "Queen Hynde" that do not con tain something beautiful, and some thing to put the risible muscles in motion. If his friend Sir Walter Scott would deign to correct his works, there is no doubt but he would become po pular.

The prevailing characteristic of the poetry of the two last years is, that it is too feminine. Indeed most of the writers of this class are at present of the weaker sex, and the popularity they gain induces others to imitate the puerilities and luxuriances which are their worst faults. In the productions of Mrs. Hemans, of Miss Landon, and of Mr. Alaric Watts, there is a conti nual straining after delicacy, which in a little time "palls upon the taste," and can scarcely be redeemed even by the beauties with which they abound. A beautiful woman is never mention ed but as a "lovely thing," and the "blue skies" of Italy are the continual objects of adoration. Love too is the only passion ever described "banks of flowers" are ever present; and "thoughts too deep for tears" may be found in every page. This might easily be amended, and it is to be regretted that many of our best poets should be spoiled in this manner. The talents of Mrs. Hemans and of Miss Landon are very considerable, and Mr. Watts's productions have been sometimes mistaken for those of Byron.

Of the hundreds of inferior poets, who are continually offering their son nets and addresses to the Moon, (or to the public instead of that luminary,) Wade, Barton, Wiffen, and Bailey, are the most conspicuous. Wade is a new aspirant, but gives strong prognostica tions of genius. Barton and Bailey are above the mediocres, and Wiffen tolerable. But there are others claim ing stronger attention than these Montgomery and Clare. The former is rather among the list of by gone poets, but his late productions in the "Literary Souvenir" have directed general attention to him, and he is universally acknowledged to soar above mauy of his companions. Clare is a wonderful self-taught genius, and superior to Bloomfield.

197

We are conscious of not having endmerated a tithe of those who "strike the lyre;" but their number must plead our excuse, whilst we hasten to the

TRANSLATIONS. Lord Levison Gower's "Faustus," from the Ger man of Goethe, and Ballads from the same language, are deserving of much attention; though the latter are not so bold and animated as Lockhart's Translations of a similar nature from the Spanish, which are by far the best of the kind our language can boast. Bowring's " Anthologies" are deserv ing of commendation; but he only exposed his weakness in endeavouring to compete with Lockhart in Spanish Ballad-Literature. Rose's "Ariosto" is the most literal poetical translation ever made; every word is exactly rendered without the least change to suit the rhyme or the caprice of the translator, and Wiffen's "Tasso" is a clever work. Neither of thear is yet, I believe, completed. Blackwood's Magazine abounds in excellent transla tions from the German and Spanish. Amongst prose translations Wilhelm Meister, Roscoe's Italian Novelists, and the Devil's Elixir, are well executed; but the latter was not worth translating.

We now enter on NOVELS, the department of Literature which is at present the most cultivated and most popular. To praise the "Author of Waverley," would be but "to gild refined gold," we will, therefore, pass on to his countless herd of imitators. Galt's "Spaewife" and "Rothelan " are infinitely inferior to his novels of the present period, and by far too rambling, discursive, and unconnected. His knowledge of the pathetic is also very small indeed in these two last works there is not a single scené of any excellence in that point. One of the seven sons of Mr. Roscoe is reputed to be the author of "The Cavalier," " Malpas," and "The King of the Peak," three excellent romances of the historical kind; but he has not published a new work lately: we hope it is not for want of encouragement. "St. John's Town" is also a tale abounding in interest and powerful sketches of character. The American Novels of Cooper, namely "The Spy," "The Pioneers," "The Pilot," and "Lionel Lincoln," are all in imitation of the "Wizard of the North," and far superior to other transatlantic

works

198

works of the same kind, especially "The Spy," in which the characters of Captain Lawton and Doctor Sit greaves are depicted with both truth and humour. A Peep at the Pilgrims in 1642," although inferior to these, is creditable to the author.

The attention of Novelists seems lately to have been directed towards Ireland. "The Eve of All-Hallows," ‚”“The Adventurers," and "Thomas Fiz - Gerald, Lord of Offaley," all relate to the ancient state of that unhappy country. The former by Matthew Weld Hartstonge, Esq. is dull and ridiculous; and one of his characters, Sir Patricius Placebo, seems to have been borrowed from a little novellette, entitled "ShanO-Neale," which possesses considerable merit. "The Adventurers" I have not yet read. "Thomas FitzGerald" is very poor, and the author so utterly destitute of invention, that he has implicitly followed history in almost every case but the making of Lambert Simnel captain of a band of pirates.

Tales of the O'Hara Family," and "To-day in Ireland," with "O'Halloran," relate, on the other hand, either to the present time, or to a very recent date. The two former are almost. equally good, and merit in a great degree the public approbation. The fatter is by no means equal to them. Besides those I have enumerated, scores of others have lately seen the light, which your limits would not permit me to name.

TRAVELS are in abundance; but though some are interesting, the elegance of Dr. Clarke is wanting in all. He would render even the dullest scenes amusing; but the present race of voyageurs are only tolerable when they cannot avoid it; nevertheless, Lyall's works on Russia are deserving of purchase. Cochrane, who travelled on foot throughout that vast empire, would, according to general opinion, give the publick an interesting book; but, alas! his account is as dull as the "London Directory," and is a mere narration of the places he visited, save in a few scattered parts which_are worthy of extract. Holman's "Travels"

are rather extraordinary, the author being a blind man; it was probably this circumstance that pushed them on to a second edition; for they are mediocre enough.

[Sept.

MEMORIALS. those works which are devoted to an account of the conversation and manners of a deceased great man; such as Boswell's Johnson, and Medwin's Byron. The poet of the "Corsair" has had probably more books already published about him when dead than when alive. It would be a commendable speculation to collect all the valuable information they contain into a volume. It is to be lamented that no complete edition of the Works of the illustrious poet has yet appeared, or has any prospect of appearing; his poems having been published originally by four different booksellers, Cawthorn, Murray, and Hunt, with some other who first sent forth "Hours of Idleness They might easily meet and arrange the business.

So must I entitle

Amongst many other memorials, there is a catchpenny in three volumes, against which the publick ought to be cautioned, entitled "Memoirs of Lord Byron," professing to contain Recollections from his Life, written by himself, which Mr. Moore so inconsiderately destroyed, defrauding the publick and the memory of his illustrious friend, to "please the ladies." The exculpation of Byron from the charges brought against him is now irretrievably lost, unless by some fortunate chance a copy remains in some one's possession, or Lady Burghersh retains sufficient recollec tion of the manuscript. The above work is a mere compilation from Medwin, &c. and is not sufficiently authoritative to authorize the scanty original particulars introduced.

LECTURES. Literature consists not in books only. Any thing in the way of original public recitation or read ing has a claim to the denomination; as for instance, the Improvisations of Pisani, or (to come nearer) the Lectures of Birkbeck, Partington, and Macculloch. The two former are highly accomplished gentlemen, who devote a great part of their time and trouble to the promotion of the good of the operative part of society. To the latter it is impossible for those who have heard him to assign a similar high character.

THE STAGE is at present (we hope) at the most disgraceful part of its

This juvenile volume was printed at Newark in 1807, by S. and J. Ridge.

career;