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TH HE subjoined extract from the Sur- public hospitals, when report led me to gical Observations lately published an empty barrack, afterwards called the by Mr. CHARLES BELL, Surgeon to the Hôpital de la Gendarmerie. Here the Middlesex Hospital, will be interesting very worst aspect of war presented itself: to the British reader from the glorious our soldiers were bringing in the French subject with which it is so intimately con- wounded. They continued to be brought nected; and at the same time reflects in for several successive days; and I saw great credit on the motives and feelings the British soldiers, who in the morning of that eminent practitioner. were moved by the piteous cries of those

"On the breaking out of the war, says they carried, in the evening hardened by Mr. Bell, I intended to follow the army the repetition of the scene and by fatigue, for a short part of the campaign. My and indifferent to the suffering they ocpurpose was to perfect my knowledge of casioned.

gunshot wounds; to observe the difficul- "It was now the thirteenth day after ties of the wounded on a great scale; to the battle. It is impossible for the imalearn the sentiments of the army surg- gination to conceive the sufferings of men eons engaged in regard to some questions rudely carried at such a period of their purely practical, to enrich my collection wounds. When I first entered this hosnot only of cases, but of pathology and pital, these Frenchmen had been roused of preparations, and thus to fit myself and excited in an extraordinary degree, the better to deliver my lectures on these and in the glance of their eyes there was subjects. a character of fierceness which I never

"Before I arrived in Brussels the bat- thought to have witnessed in the human tle of Waterloo had been fought; and countenance. They were past the utterin one day the campaign was concluded. ance of what, if I might read the counHere witnessing the zeal of the army tenances, was unsubdued hatred and desurgeons, and seeing them harassed by sire of revenge.

days and nights of uninterrupted pro- "On the second day the temporary fessional duties, my first impulse was to excitement had subsided. Turn which express my sense of their unexampled way I might I encountered every form exertions when I thought my testimony of entreaty from those whose condition might be of weight from its disinterest left no need of words to stir compassion. edness. "Mejor, O comme je souffre! Pansez, "I had been for some days engaged pansez !-Docteur je me recommande à in making my notes and sketches in the vous: couper ma jambe! O! je souffie

31 ATHENEUM. Vol. 2.

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442

French Wounded at Waterloo.-Sketches of London Society.

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"I know not what notions my feeling countrymen have of thirty thousand men thrown into a town and its environs. They still their compassionate emotions by subscriptions; but what avails this to the wounded who would exchange gold for a bit of rag! If men would encounter the painful reality, and allow themselves

beaucoup, beaucoup ! And when those observations cannot be drawn ; a certain entreaties were unavailing, you might general impression remains, and the inhear in a weak inward voice of despair; dividual instance must be very remarka"Je mourrai! je suis un homme mort!" ble that is remembered at all. The tones were too true to nature soon to loose their influence. At four in the morning I offered my services; and at six I entered on the most painful duty of my life, in inspecting and operating on these unfortunate men. I was thus engaged uninterruptedly from six in the morning till seven at night for three successive days.* There was now no time for a moment to think of the confusion for improvement. The objects for which that must attend such a scene; the diffiI had come abroad were laid aside, for it culty of arrangement; the many, very was necessary to put hands to the work. many cases where knowledge, decision, I was now convinced of the injustice of and dexterity are more necessary than in expecting information from those who, any other situation of life; if they would if they have the common qualities of our consider that from the pressure of the nature, must have every faculty bound time the surgeon requires personal and up in duty to the sufferers: cases and

"This hospital of the French wounded was Just forming in the most difficult circumstances. When I was there, it had not yet assumed the system of the other hospitals. It was the last hospital formed,where full 30,000 men had been accommodated; and yet there

was no want of any thing essential, and the exertions of the medical officers were unremitting to bring it into order."

constitutional strength, as well as the
promptitude gained by long study and
experience, they would be led to inquire
what duties had been performed,and what
consideration had attended the unexam-
pled exertions of the army surgeons after
the battle of Waterloo."
London, Sept. 1817.

From the Literary Gazette.

SKETCHES OF SOCIETY.-LETTERS FROM LONDON.

LETTER VI.

Treasures of Terpsichore," and the whole world will buy it. Tooth-powder must be termed Oriental Dentrifice, and pomatum, Pommade divine. A shop must be called a Bazaar, and a dress-maker has no chance of success, unless she entitle herself a Marchande des Modes, or a Tailleuse. I went to one the other day to bespeak something; absolutely she was unintelligible. She talked of toques, cornettes, tulle fiches, coiffures, slashes, and capotes. She earnestly recommended to me curls à la corkscrew, eau de Ninon for washing my face, and pommade de concombre for anointing it!

MUST leave this town, my dear sis- A book called "The Art of Dancing." ter; I must fly from it forever. All would not sell at all, but yclep it “ The my speculations have failed. A governess of unimpeached morals, cannot earn a decent subsistence in it, though even hairdressers drive their own tandems, and tailors entertain their customers with turbot and champaign. Every day some new trade is invented. A man has made a fortune here by staining bottles so as to imitate the incrustation of old port. A certain dentist purchased several thou sand teeth plucked from the jaws of those young warriors who fell at Waterloo; and it is now no uncommon circumstance to see a dowager of seventy, displaying, in her smile, two rows of posthumous pearls, once the property of some serjeants in the forty-second regiment, or of one might imagine that the town would some privates in the Connaught rangers. be altogether deserted. Quite the conThe great secret is to get a hard name trary. This is the height of the season, for yourself, or your shop, or your goods. and the fashionables, content with pots of

As it is now the middle of summer,

VOL. 2.]

The Naiad: and other Poems.

413

half an hour, the price of three hundred and sixty-five dinners."

mignionette and wreathes of artificial cards; in which case you may lose in flowers, are unwilling to ruralize amidst brooks and meadows, till the brooks are encrusted with ice, and the meadows covered with snow.

Nay, not only do they reverse the seasons, by transferring to summer the natural amusements of winter, but they likewise turn day into night and night into day. From eight to nine o'clock is the usual time for dining; and I know a young country gentleman, who having been met in the street and asked to dine, by a friend, was obliged to refuse the invitation on the plea of his having already supped.

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"Of course you may, if you stake much money," replied 1.

66

Ay, or if you do not stake a single farthing," said he, " for, now that money is scarce, there are some who have adopted the system of playing sheep points and bullock rubbers!""

"Probably then," said I," they will soon begin to play for each other's wives and daughters.'

66

"They would not consider that high play enough," answered my friend, “ and in this they are borne out by the law; for if I steal a man's snuff-box, I am hanged; but if I steal his daughter, I am only fined."

"Besides," said this young gentleman to me, " I who have so restricted an income, really cannot afford to dine out often." 66 Nay," cried I, "your limited Wonder not then, good sister, that I, means ought to make such a saving very who have no money, should quit a town, acceptable.' "A saving!" exclaimed he, where one person is esteemed wiser or "it is the most extravagant plan you can better or wittier than another, by a perconceive. Coach-hire, and the servants' centage on his pocket. I return to the vails for handing plates, and returning country with renovated delight; nor have one's hat safe, cost twice as much as a I gained much more by my trip to town, dinner at a coffee-house. Believe me, a than the conviction of this truth, that we man of moderate fortune here, would can never estimate the blessings of transoon ruin himself by dining at other peo- quillity, till we have experienced the turple's expense. Besides, the lady of the bulence and heartlessness of the busy house probably compels you to play at world.

From the British Critic, Oct. 1817.

THE NAIAD, A TALE: WITH OTHER POEMS.

THIS THIS is really a pleasing little poem: ty; more especially when, as in the prethe story of it is tastefully chosen, sent instance, his faults are not inherent and told with lightness; the descriptions in his genius, but merely the accidental which it contains are given in a wild and fruits of having injudiciously chosen his fanciful manner, and in a versification model. We do not mean to say, genewhich, though unequal, is upon the rally, that Mr. Wordsworth is an improwhole agreeably tuned. We could in- per model of poetry; though unquesdeed wish that these merits were not so tionably he will be found a very dangeroften thrown into the shade, by pretty- ous one; we only mean, that when a nesses, and simplenesses, and sillinesses, writer is induced to model his compoand all those other childish affectations, sitions upon those of another, he should which the imitators of Mr. Wordsworth select one whose genius is cast in a mould are so apt to suppose inseparable from similar to his own. To emulate a writer, the other qualities of his poetry; and, but simply because we admire him, is a very that the present is, we imagine, our unsafe proceeding. Nothing can be more poet's first appearance before our tribu- natural than to feel admiration for the nal, we should perhaps feel disposed to beautiful qualities of Mr. Wordsworth's be less lenient than we intend to be. We mind, and nothing more easy than to imishould be sorry to discourage an author tate the occasional childishness and affec of promise, even though his merits may tation of his manner; but a person must not possibly be only of a subordinate quali- suppose himselflike Alexander, merely be

444

The Naiad, &c.

[TOL. 2

cause he can walk with his neck awry. Our note the particular expressions we allude author's genius is as distinct from Mr. to by italics, in order to let our readers Wordsworth's as is well conceivable; perceive the nature of the faults we belightness and playfulness of fancy are the fore animadverted upon.

qualities which he should principally cultivate, as they seem to be those which are most within his reach; and these qualities, we should imagine, may be studied almost any where, rather than in the "Lyrical Ballads." But this is not the place for a critical dissertation.

""Twas autumn tide-the eve was sweet,

As mortal eye hath e'er beholden;
The grass look'd warm with sunny heat,-

Perchance some fairy's glowing feet

Had lightly touch'd—and left it golden:
A flower or two were shining yet;
The star of the daisy had not yet set,—
It shone from the turf to greet the air,

The poem professes to be founded Which tenderly came breathing there: upon an old Scotch ballad, which the author procured from a young girl of

And in a brook, which lov'd to fret
O'er yellow sand and pebble blue,
The lily of the silvery hue

Away the sparkling water play'd,

Through bending grass, and blessed flower; Light, and delight seem'd all its dower: Away in merriment it stray'd,

Singing, and bearing, hour after hour,

Galloway, who delighted in treasuring All freshly dwelt, with white leaves wet,
up the legendary songs of her country.
As our author says so, we conclude this
to be the fact; but the subject of the tale
is so exactly similar to that of Goethe's
"Fisherman," that we can hardly keep Pale, lovely splendour to the shade.
ourselves from suspecting the " young girl
of Galloway" and the "German Baron of
Weimar" to be, what one cannot easily
understand how two such dissimilar cha-
racters should be, one and the same per-
son. However this be, we have no right
to accuse our author of plagiarism, for he
himself points out the coincidence.

"One of the ballads of Goethe, called the Fisherman,' is very similar in its incidents to it; Madame de Stael in her eloquent work on Germany, thus deseribes it. A poor man, on a summer evening, seats himself on the bank of a river, and as he throws in his

Ye would have given your hearts to win
A glimpse of that fair willow'd brook:
The water lay glistening in each leafy nook,
And the shadows fell green and thin.
As the wind pass'd by-the willow trees,
Which lov'd for aye on the wave to look,

Kiss'd the pale stream,-but disturb'd and shook,
They wept tears of light at the rude, rude brezze,
At night, when all the planets were sprinkling
Their little rays of light on high,

The busy brook with stars was twinkling,-
And it seemed a streak of the living sky;
'Twas heavenly to walk in the autumn wind's sigh,
And list to that brook's lonely tinkling."

The next specimen with which we inline, contemplates the clear and liquid tide which tend to present our readers, will form a gently flows and bathes his naked feet. The nymph continuation of that which we have alof the stream invites him to plunge himself into it; she

describes to him the delightful freshness of the water during the heat of the summer, the pleasure which the sun takes in cooling itself at night in the sea, the calmness of the moon when its rays repose and sleep on the bosom of the stream: at length the fisherman attracted, seduced, drawn on, advances near the nymph, and forever disappears. "

Except that the "Fisherman" is changed into a young and handsome baron, riding along the banks of the stream, attended by a page, on his way to meet his beautiful bride, who is supposed to be waiting his arrival with all the preparations of music and dancing, the above extract will at once put our readers in possession of the sum and substance of the poem which we are now desirous of making them acquainted with.

ready given; but it is, in point of style,
much less exceptionable.

"For a moment with pleasure his bridle hand shook,
And the steed in its joy mock'd the wave on the brook,
It play'd-and danced up for a moment-no more-
Then gently glided on as before,
Now forth they rode all silently,
Beneath the broad and milky sky,
They kept their course by the water's edge ;

And listen'd at times to the creaking sedge;
Or started from some rich fanciful dream,
At the sullen plunge of the fish in the stream;
Then would they watch the circle bright.—
Go widening, and shining, and trembling on,
Till a wave leap'd up, and the ring was gone.
Or the otter would cross before their eyes,
And hide in the bank where the deep wook lies;

The circle, silver'd by the moonlight,—

Or the owl would call out through the silent air, wWith a mournful, and shrill and tremulous ery; Or the hare from its form would start up and pass by

And the watch-dog bay them here and there. The leaves might be rustled-the waves be curl'd— But no human foot appear'd out in the world."

The following lines, descriptive of the scenery through which the road of Lord Hubert and bis page lay, are pleasing, in spite of the conceits and affectations with which they are sprinkled. We shall just cribes the rising of the Naiad from the

The lines in which our author de

VOL. 2.]

Strictures on the Naiad, &e.

445

stream possess great merit; the picture Lord Hubert would not appear to which he presents to our imagination is have been insensible to the charms of the fancifully conceived, and very poetically poetical invitation; our poet continues, painted. The first eight or nine lines are "She stept into the silver wave,

feeble, but the remainder of our extract will, I am sure, afford pleasure.

"Lord Hubert look'd forth;-say, what hath caught
The lustre of his large dark eye?

Is it the form he hath lov'd and sought?
Or is it some vision his fancy has wrought ?

He cannot pass it by.

It rises from the bank of the brook,
And it comes along with an angel look;
Its vest is like snow, and its hand is as fair,
Its brow seems a mingling of sunbeam and air.
And its eyes so meek, which the glad tear laves,
Are like stars beheld soften'd in summer waves;
The lily hath left a light on its feet,
And the smile on its lip is passingly sweet;

It moves serene, but it treads not the earth ;-
Is it a lady of mortal birth?

Down o'er her shoulders her yellow hair flows,
And her neck through its tresses divinely glows;
Calm in her hand a mirror she brings,

And she sleeks her loose locks, and gazes, and sings.
"THE NAIAD'S SONG.

"My bower is in the hollow wave, The water lily is my bed;

The brightest pearls the rivers lave

Are wreathed around my breast and head. "The fish swims idly near my couch,

And twinkling fins oft brush my brow; And spirits mutely to me crouch,

While waters softly o'er them flow. "Then come thee to these arms of mine, And come thee to this bosom fair ; And thou mid silver waves shalt twine The tresses of my silky hair. "I have a ring of the river weed,

And sank like the morning mist, from the eye;
Lord Hubert paus'd with a misgiving sigh,

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And look'd on the water as on his grave.
But a soften'd voice came sweet from the stream,
Such sound doth a young lover hear in his dream,
It was lovely, and mellow'd, and tenderly hollow :-
Step on the wave, where sleeps the moon beam,
Thou wilt sink secure through its delicate gleam,
Follow, Lord Hubert!-follow!'

He started-pass'd on with a graceful mirth,
And vanish'd at once from the placid earth.
The waters prattled sweetly, wildly,
Still the moonlight kissed them mildly;

All sounds were mute, save the screech of the owl,
And the otter's plunge, and the watch-dog's howi;
But from that cold moon's setting, never
Was seen Lord Hubert !—he vanished for ever :
And ne'er from the breaking of that young day
Was seen the light form that had passed away."

We cannot afford room for further extracts; indeed, considering the shortness of the poen, and the modesty of its pretensions, we think we have paid it no little compliment in extracting from it so largely. What remains to be told, may be said in a few words. The reader is taken to the castle of the father of Angelina (for such is the name of Lord Huber's intended bride) where of course both she and the guests wait in vain for the bridegroom. He makes his appearance, however; but it is not until all the guests have separated for the night; and then his appearance is under a somewhat unwelcome circumstance. His watery bride, we must suppose, had rather disAs our author has succeeded so well appointed his expectations; for the very in the lines descriptive of the "Sprite's" same night he returns to his earthly alleintroduction to our hero, possibly our giance, and leaves his "noble chrystal readers will not be displeased to read our pile," in order to come and claim his oriauthor's conception of the song with ginal mistress. But however much the which she tempted Lord Hubert to for- latter may have lamented her lover's get his earthly bride and follow his new fickleness, she would not seem to think acquaintance under the wave.

'Twas fasten'd with a spirit's kiss; I'll wed thee in this moonlight mead,—

Ah! look not on my love amiss.'"

"Oh! come, and we will hurry now
To a noble crystal pile;

Where the waters all o'er thee like music shall flow,
And the lilies shail cluster around thy brow.
We'll arise, my love! when morning dew
Is on the rose-leaf, soft and new;

We'll sit upon the tawny grass,

And catch the we winds as they pass:

And list the wild birds while they sing,

And kiss to the water's murmuring,

Thou shalt gather a flower, and I will wear it;

I'll find the wild bee's nest, and thou shalt share it ;

that the matter was at all mended by the proof he gives her of his posthumous fidelity.

"Thy arms around me press'd

Like bands of ice upon my breast,
Are fresh now from the chilling water,
To me they come like silent slaughter.' "
We are sorry to end our extracts with
such four notably absurd lines; but our
author has no reason to complain; for
we have overlooked many that would as

Thou shalt catch the bird, and come smiling to me, little redound to his credit.
And I'll clasp its wing, and kiss it for thee.''

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