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There it should have stopped. It would have been more creditable to Mr Southey's heart and feelings if he had been of this opinion; he would then never have made the use of his travels he did, nor have raked out of an album the silly joke of a boy, in order to make it matter of serious accusation against him at home. I might well say he had impudence enough, if he could confess such infamy. I say nothing of the critique itself on "Foliage;' with the exception of a few sonnets, it was unworthy of Hunt. But what was the object of that article? I repeat, to vilify and scatter his dark and devilish insinuations against me and o

thers. Shame on the man who could

wound an already bleeding heart,-be barbarous enough to revive the memory of a fatal event that Shelley was perfectly

innocent of,-and found scandal on false

hood! Shelley taxed him with writing that article some years ago; and he had the audacity to admit that he had treasured up some opinions of Shelley's, ten years before, when he was on a visit at Keswick, and had made a note of them at the time. But his bag of venom was not full; it is the nature of the reptile. Why does a viper have a poison-tooth, or the scorpion claws ?"

Some days after these remarks, on calling on him one morning, he produced • The Deformed Transformed.' Handing it to Shelley, as he was in the habit of doing his daily compositions, he said:

"Shelley, I have been writing a Faustish kind of drama: tell me what you think of it."

After reading it attentively, Shelley returned it.

"Well," said Lord Byron," how do you like it?"

"Least," replied he, "of any thing I ever saw of yours. It is a bad imitation of Faust; and besides, there are two entire lines of Southey's in it."

Lord Byron changed colour immediately, and asked hastily what lines? Shelley repeated,

And water shall see thee,

And fear thee, and flee thee.' "They are in 'The Curse of Kehama.'" His Lordship, without making a single observation, instantly threw the poem into the fire. He seemed to feel no chagrin at seeing it consume-at least his countenance betrayed none, and his conversation became more gay and lively than usual. Whether it was hatred of Southey, or respect for Shelley's opinions, which made him commit an act that I considered a sort of suicide, was always doubtful to me. I was never more surprised than to see, two years afterwards,

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"The Monk' is perhaps one of the best in any language, not excepting the German. It only wanted one thing, as I told Lewis, to have rendered it perfect. He should have made the dæmon really in love with Ambrosio : this would have given it a human interest. 'The Monk' was written when Lewis was only twenty, and he seems to have exhausted all his genius on it. Perhaps at that age he was in earnest in his belief of magic won.. ders. That is the secret of Walter Scott's inspiration he retains and encourages all the superstitions of his youth. Lewis caught his passion for the marvellous, and it amounted to a mania with him, in Germany; but the groundwork of The Monk' is neither original nor German ; it is derived from the tale of Santon Barsisa.' The episode of The Bleeding Nun,' which was turned into a melodra

ma, is from the German.

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"There were two stories which he almost believed by telling. One happened to himself whilst he was residing at Manheim. Every night, at the same hour, he heard, or thought he heard, in his room, when he was lying in bed, a crackling noise like that produced by parchment, or thick paper. This circumstance caused inquiry, when it was told him that the sounds were attributable to the following cause:-The house in which he lived had belonged to a widow, who had an only son. In order to prevent his marrying a poor but amiable girl, to whom he was attached, he was sent to

sea. Years passed, and the mother heard no tidings of him, nor the ship in which he had sailed. It was supposed that the vessel had been wrecked, and that all on board had perished. The reproaches of the girl, the upbraidings of her own conscience, and the loss of her child, crazed the old lady's mind, and her only pursuit became to turn over the Gazettes for

news. Hope at length left her she did not live long, and continued her old occupation after death.

"The other story that I alluded to before was the original of his Alonzo and Imogene,' which has had such a host of imitators. Two Florentine lovers, who had been attached to each other almost from childhood, made a vow of eternal fidelity. Mina was the name of the lady -her husband's I forget, but it is not material. They parted. He had been for some time absent with his regiment, when, as his disconsolate lady was sitting alone in her chamber, she distinctly heard the well-known sound of his footsteps, and starting up, beheld, not her husband, but his spectre, with a deep ghastly wound across his forehead, entering.

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She swooned with horror: when she recovered, the ghost told her, that in future his visits should be announced by a passing-bell, and these words distinctly whispered, Mina, I am here!' Their interviews now became frequent, till the woman fancied herself as much in love with the ghost as she had been with the man. But it was soon to prove otherwise. One fatal night she went to a ball: -what business had she there? She danced too; and, what was worse, her partner was a young Florentine, so much the counterpart of her lover, that she be came estranged from his ghost. Whilst the young gallant conducted her in the waltz, and her ear drank in the music of his voice and words, a passing-bell tolled! She had been accustomed to the sound till it hardly excited her attention, and now lost in the attractions of her fascinating partner, she heard, but regarded it not. A second peal!—she listened not to its warnings. A third time the bell, with its deep and iron tongue, startled the assembled company, and silenced the music! Mina then turned her eyes from her partner, and saw reflected in the mirror, a form, a shadow, a spectre: it was her husband! He was standing between her and the young Florentine, and whispered in a solemn and melancholy tone, the accustomed accents, Mina, I am here!'-She instaħtly fell dead.

ter.

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"Lewis was not a very successful wriHis Monk' was abused furiously by Matthias, in his Pursuits of Litera

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ture,' and he was forced to suppress it. 'Abellino' he merely translated. Pizarro' was a sore subject with him, and no wonder that he winced at the name. Sheridan, who was not very scrupulous about applying to himself literary property at least, manufactured his play without so much as an acknowledgment, pecuniary or otherwise, from Lewis's ideas; and bad as Pizarro' is, I know (from having been on the Drury-Lane Committee, and knowing, consequently, the comparative profits of plays,) that it brought in more money than any other play has ever done, or perhaps ever will do.

"But to return to Lewis. He was even worse treated about The Castle Spectre,' which had also an immense run, a prodigious success. Sheridan never gave him any of its profits either. One day Lewis being in company with him, said, Sheridan, I will make you a large bet.' Sheridan, who was always ready to make a wager, (however he might find it inconvenient to pay it if lost,) asked eagerly what bet? All the profits of my Castle Spectre,' replied Lewis. 'I will tell you what,' said Sheridan, (who never found his match at repartee,) I will make you a very small one, what it is worth." "

The account of the funeral of the unfortunate Shelley is simply, and yet powerfully drawn.

18th August, 1822. On the occasion of Shelley's melancholy fate, I revisited Pisa; and on the day of my arrival, learnt that Lord Byron was gone to the sea-shore, to assist in performing the last offices to his friend. We came to a spot marked by an old and withered trunk of a fir-tree; and near it, on the beach, stood a solitary hut covered with reeds. The situation was well calculated for a poet's grave. A few weeks before, I had ridden with him and Lord Byron to this very spot, which I afterwards visited more than once. In front was a magnificent extent of the blue and windless Mediterranean, with the Isles of Elba and Gor. gona, Lord Byron's yacht at anchor in the offing on the other side an almost boundless extent of sandy wilderness, uncultivated and uninhabited, here and there interspersed in tufts with underwood, curved by the sea-breeze, and stunted by the barren and dry nature of the soil in which it grew. At equal distances along the coast stood high square towers, for the double purpose of guarding the coast from smuggling, and enforcing the quarantine laws. This view was bounded by an immense extent of the Italian Alps,

which are here particularly picturesque, from their volcanic and manifold appearances; and which, being composed of white marble, give their summits the resemblance of snow.

As a foreground to this picture, appeared as extraordinary a group. Lord Byron and Trelawney were seen standing over the burning pile, with some of the soldiers of the guard; and Leigh Hunt, whose feelings and nerves could not carry him through the scene of horror, lying back in the carriage, the four post-horses ready to drop with the intensity of the noonday sun. The stillness of all around was yet more felt by the shrill scream of a solitary curlew, which, perhaps attracted by the body, wheeled in such narrow circles round the pile that it might have been struck with the hand, and was so fearless that it could not be driven away. Looking at the corpse, Lord Byron said, "Why, that old black silk handkerchief retains its form better than that human body!"

Scarcely was the ceremony concluded, when Lord Byron, agitated by the spectacle he had witnessed, tried to dissipate, in some degree, the impression of it by his favourite recreation. He took off his clothes, therefore, and swam off to his yacht, which was riding a few miles dis

tant.

Our extracts multiply so fast, that

we must content ourselves with some shorter remarks on literary men. Hunt.

"Hunt would have made a fine writer, for he has a great deal of fancy and feeling, if he had not been spoiled by circumstances. He was brought up at the Blue-coat Foundation, and had never till lately been ten miles from St. Paul's. What poetry is to be expected from such a course of education? He has his school, however, and a host of disciples. A friend of mine calls Rimini,' Nimini Pimini; and Foliage,' Folly age. Perhaps he had a tumble in climbing trees in the Hesperides!' But Rimini' has a great deal of merit. There never were so many fine things spoiled as in Rimini.'"

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Moore.

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"Moore is one of the few writers who will survive the age in which he so deservedly flourishes. He will live in his Irish Melodies;' they will go down to posterity with the music; both will last as long as Ireland, or as music and poetry."

Keats and Lord Thurlow.

"As Keats is now gone, we may speak of him. I am always battling with the

Snake about Keats, and wonder what he finds to make a god of, in that idol of the Cockneys: besides, I always ask Shelley why he does not follow his style, and make himself one of the school, if he think it so divine. He will, like me, return some day to admire Pope, and think The Rape of the Lock' and its sylphs werth fifty Endymions,' with their faun and satyr machinery. I remember Keats somewhere says that flowers would not blow, leaves bud,' &c. if man and woman did not kiss. How sentimental !"

I remarked that Hyperion' was a fine fragment, and a proof of his poetical genius.

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Hyperion!'" said he: "why, a man might as well pretend to be rich who had one diamond. 'Hyperion' indeed! 'Hyperion' to a satyr! Why, there is a fine line in Lord Thurlow (looking to the West, that was gloriously golden with the sunset) which I mean to borrow some day:

⚫ And all that gorgeous company of clouds'"Do you think they will suspect me of taking from Lord Thurlow ?"

Campbell.

"Like Gray," said he, "Campbell smells too much of the oil: he is never satisfied with what he does; his finest

things have been spoiled by over-polish—

the sharpness of the outline is worn off. Like paintings, poems may be too highly finished. The great art is effect, no matter how produced.

Kemble and Kean.

"Dowton, who hated Kean, used to say, that his Othello reminded him of Obi, or Three-fingered Jack,-not Othello. But, whatever his Othello might have been, Garrick himself never surpassed him in Iago. I am told that Kean is not so great a favourite with the public since his return from America, and that party strengthened against him in his absence, I guess he could not have staid long enough to be spoiled; though I culculate no actor is improved by their stage. How do you reckon I

"Kean began by acting Richard the Third when quite a boy, and gave all the promise of what he afterwards became. His Sir Giles Overreach was a wonderful performance. The actresses were afraid of him; and he was afterwards so much exhausted himself, that he fell into fits. This, I am told, was the case with Miss O'Neil.

"Kemble did much towards the reform of our stage. Classical costume was almost unknown before he undertook to 4 G

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"Kemble pronounced several words affectedly, which should be cautiously avoided on the stage. It is nothing that Campbell writes it Sepulcrè in Hohenlinden.'

The Greek derivation is much against his pronunciation of ache.

He now began to mimic Kemble's voice and manner of spouting, and imitated him inimitably in Prospero's lines :

"Yea, the great globe itself, it shall dissolve,
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a rack behind!

"When half-seas-over, Kemble used to speak in blank-verse: and with practice, I don't think it would be difficult. Good prose resolves itself into blank-verse. Why should we not be able to improvise in hexameters, as well as the Italians ? Theodore Hook is an improvisatore."

Sir Walter Scott.

"There is one part of your observations in the pamphlet which I shall ven

ture to remark upon ;-it regards Walter Scott. You say that his character is little worth of enthusiasm,' at the same that you mention his productions in the manner they deserve. I have known Walter Scott long and well, and in occasional situations which call forth the real character-and I can assure you that his character is worthy of admiration--that of all men he is the most open, the most honourable, the most amiable. With his politics I have nothing to do: they differ from mine, which renders it difficult for me to speak of them. But he is perfectly sincere in them; and Sincerity may be humble, but she cannot be servile. I pray you, therefore, to correct or soften that passage. You may perhaps attribute this officiousness of mine to a false affectation of candour, as I happen to be a writer also. Attribute it to what motive you please, but believe the truth. I say that Walter Scott is as nearly a thorough good man as man can be, because I know it by experience to be the

case.

We intended to conclude our extracts from this volume, which maintains its interest throughout, with the beautiful letter of Goëthe, to whom Lord Byron dedicates his Werner; but our space is exhausted, and here, therefore, we must close.

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WORKS PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION.

LONDON.

Part I. (to be completed in two) of the History and Antiquities of the Parish and Palace of Lambeth, in 8vo. and 4to., illustrated with twenty copper-plate Engravings and twenty Wood-cuts, is nearly ready.

Mr Banks, author of the Dormant and Extinct Baronage of England, has in the press, and nearly ready for publication, a supplemental volume to that work, which, exclusively of much novel and interesting genealogy, will contain an index to the three other volumes, and thereby render the whole a complete edition.

An English Translation of M. Picard's spirited work, Gil Blas de la Revolution, ou les Confessions de Laurent Giffard, which has become so popular in Paris, is promised soon to appear.

The Gaelic Dictionary, by Mr Armstrong, that was announced to be published by subscription, and which was destroyed at the late fire at Mr Moyes's, will be but little delayed by the accident, the publisher having made arrangements for reprinting the sheets destroyed, at the same time that the other part of the work is going on.

The Rev. Mr Fry's History of the Christian Church, which was nearly ready for publication, and which was destroyed at the late fire, is again at press, and will shortly make its appearance. A new edition of the Exposition of the Romans, and Translation of the Canticles, is also in the press.

View of the present State of the Salmon and Channel Fisheries, and of the Statute Laws by which they are regula ted." By Mr. J. Cornish.

The Rev. J. R. Pitman, of the Foundling and Magdalen, will shortly publish a course of Sermons for the Year; containing two for each Sunday, and one for each Holiday; abridged from eminent Divines of the Established Church, and adapted to the service of the day. In one large volume.

Mr Campbell is at length about to produce another poem; it will be entitled Theodoric, a Domestic Tale.

An Historical Inquiry into the principal Circumstances and Events relative to the late Emperor Napoleon.

Mr Hogg, the Author of the "Queen's Wake," will very shortly bring forward his Queen Hinde.

The Museum, a Poem, by John Bull, is in the press.

VOL. XV.

Mrs Opie, we are informed, has in the press Illustrations of Lying, in all its Branches. In 2 vols. 12mo.

Le Nouveau Tableau de Londres, de Leigh, ou Guide de l'Etranger dans la Capitale de l'Angleterre, is on the eve of publication.

The Medical and Chirurgical Society of London have nearly ready Part I. of Vol. XIII. of their Transactions.

A Lady has been some time occupied on a work which will shortly be published, under the title of Urania's Mirror, or a View of the Heavens, consisting of Thirty-two Cards, on which are represented all the Constellations visible in the British Empire, on a plan perfectly original, which is to be accompanied with a Familiar Treatise on Astronomy, by J. Aspin.

Specimens (selected and translated) of the Lyric Poetry of the Minessingers, of the Reign of Frederick Barbarossa, and the succeeding Emperors of the Suabian Dynasty; illustrated by similar Specimens of the Troubadours, and other contemporary Lyric Schools of Europe; with Historical, Critical, and Biographical Remarks. 8vo.

An Essay on the Structure and Diseases of the Rectum. "Quid rectum sit querimus."-Cicero. By Samuel Gower, Surgeon.

Sir Egerton Brydges' Recollections of Foreign Travel, on Life, Literature, and Self-Knowledge. 2 vols. post 8vo.

Archdeacon Coxe has in the press the History of the Administration of the Right Hon. Henry Pelham, drawn from Authentic Sources; with private and original Correspondence, from 1743 to 1754. In 2 vols. 4to., with a Portrait.

Revelations of the Dead Alive. From the pen of a successful dramatic writer.

Mr Richard Carmichael is about to publish a Treatise on the Venereal Disease in all its shapes, which will concentrate the valuable information contained in his two former works, besides giving the results of later experience and research.

The Cambrian Plutarch; or, Lives of the most eminent Welchmen. In one vol. 8vo. By M. H. Parry.

The forthcoming Life of Sheridan, by Mr Moore, is in a state of considerable forwardness.

A Botanical work of a popular Description is about to be published monthly, in a cheap form, entitled the Botanic Garden; or, Magazine of Hardy Plants Cul

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