That the same complaints prevailed formerly, as of late, in regard to the decay of hospitality, the hardships of the times, and the extravagances practised in the upper classes of life, needs no proof to those who are familiar with our ancient chronicles: but, as merry a one as we have met with, is selected by our author; and because it describes a Christmas time, we transcribe it, for comparison with the same merry period, of the year 1806. A CHRISTMAS CARROL.-By George Wither. Let every man be jolly; And every post with holly. And let us all be merry. And Christmas blocks are burning; Now every lad is wond'rous trim, Our lasses have provided them A bag-pipe and a tabor ; Young men and maids, and girls and boys, Perceive that they are merry. Rank misers now do sparing shun; Their hall of music soundeth; And dogs thence with whole shoulders run, And all the town be merry. Ned Squash hath fetcht his bands from pawn, And all his best apparel; Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn With dropping of the barrel, And all the day be merry, * For accounts of this very voluminous, and very unequal writer see" Athene Oxonienses," the Reliques of Antient English Poetry, and Mr. Ellis's very elegant publication, entitled, "Specimens of early English poets.” Now poor men to the justices With capons make their errants; And if they hap to fail of these, They plague them with their warrants; But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want, they take in beer, For Christmas comes but once a year, And then they shall be merry. Good farmers in the country nurse The poor, that else were undone; And therefore let's be merry. The prisoner's heart is cased; The debtor drinks away his cares, And for the time is pleased. Though others purses be more fat, Why should we pine, or grieve at that? Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat, And therefore let's be merry. For nuts and apples scrambling. The wenches with their wassel bowls The wild mare in it bringing. Now kings and queens poor sheep cotes have, The honest now may play the knave, And wise men play the noddy. Because they will be merry, Then wherefore in these merry daies, To make our mirth the fuller. Bear witness we are merry. We were in great hopes of finding in this collection, a number of those artless expressions of sentiment which though The hardly poetry, yet are poetical. songs of the women when grinding their corn, when trampling [walking] their new Jinen, when churning, when washing, and at other domestic labours, are specific, characteristic, and local: they describe sentiments, and display manners: but they are little known in the South; and in the North they are declining. We doubt not, that the hay-harvest, the cornharvest, threshing time, and other periods in the rural calender, had their carrols as well as Christmas. The "boatie rows," p. 352, is an instance of what we mean, though of a different kind from those mentioned; and among the poems for which we are beholden to the muse-inspired editor, are the graddan carrol, and the Dey's song. Antient songs on the same subjects would certainly interest us greatly, as ever will those effusions which bespeak the simple manners of rural life. THE DEY'S SANG. This is intended as a specimen of that kind of unpremeditted song for which the Scotish highlanders are remarkable. It may be observed, that, in this piece all the stanzas have a relation to each other, as being supposed to be sung by an individual, and confined entirely to one subject; whereas, in the foregoing, [the Graddan] (as in the Gaelic Luineag, of the manner of which it is an imitation), all the stanzas are perfectly independent of each other; so, that in any part of the song, the singers may digress at pleasure, laying hold of the circumstances of the moment, or introducing, as they commonly do, any person that happens to be present, into their extemporary effusions, without its appearing in the least forced or unnatural. The supposed scene of this song being peculiar and characteristic, it will be proper to give some account of it, in order that the nature and tendency of the piece may be the better understood. On a very hot day, in the beginning of autumn, the author when a stripling, was travelling a-foot over the mountain of Lochaber, from Fort Augustus to Inverness; and when he came to the house where he was to have breakfasted, there was no person at home, nor was there any place where refreshment was to be had, nearer than Duris, which is eighteen miles from Fort Augustus. With this disagreeable prospect, he proceeded about three miles farther, and turned aside to the first cottage he saw, where he found a hale-looking, lively, tidy, little, middle-aged woman, spinning wool, with a pot on the fire, and some greens ready to be put into it. She understood no English, and his Gaelic was then by no means good; although he spoke it well enough to be intelligible. She informed him that she had nothing in the house that could be eaten, except cheese, a little sour cream, and some whisky. On being asked, rather sharply, how she could dress the greens without meal, she good-humouredly told him, that there was plenty of meal in the croft, pointing to some unreaped barley that stood dead-ripe and dry before the door; and if he could wait half an hour, he should have brose and butter, bread and cheese, bread and milk, or any thing that he chose. To this he most readily consented, as well on account of the singularity of the proposal, as of the necessity of the time; and the good dame set with all possible expedition about her arduous undertaking. She first of all brought him some cream in a bottle, telling him, "He that will not work, neither shall he eat ;" if he wished for butter, he must shake that bottle with all his might, and sing to it like a mavis all the while; for unless he sung to it, no butter would come. She then went to the croft; cut down some barley; burnt the straw to dry the grain; rubbed the grain between her hands, and threw it up before the wind, to separate it from the ashes; ground it upon a quern, or handmill; sifted t; made a bannoc of the meal; set it up to bake before the fire; went to her cow, that was reposing during the heat of the day, and eating some outside cabbage-leaves 'ayont the hallan," singing like a lark all the while, varying the strain according to the employment to which it was adapted. In the meanwhile a hen cackled under the eaves of the cottage; two new-laid eggs were im mediately plunged into the boiling kail-pot; and in less than half an hour, the poor, starving, faint, and way-worn minstrel, with wonder and delight, sat down to a repast that under such circumstances, would have been a feast for a Prince.* The Dey's Sang is supposed to resemble that which the hospitable inatron sung "ea tempore," while she was milking Hawkie. Like most songs of the same kind, it has a burden, tending to soothe the cow, and keep her quiet; there being generally in these things one line for sound, and one for sense. THE DEY'S SANG.-By the Editor. (Pbroo, hawkie! ho, hawkie) This instance of salutary dexterity in speedily administering to the wants of the hungry traveller, in a bleak and thinly peopled country, will be found mentioned in Sir Frederick Eden's "State of the Popr.* Your caufie's sleepin in the pen, The stranger is come here the day, Pbroo, pbroo, &c. The day is meeth, and weary he, Pbroo, pbroo, &c. He'll bless you bouk when far awa This Bucolic may seem shocking to A pastoral poet who lives in Cheapside, but it has more of nature in it than he is likely to behold without change of residence. We conclude by observing, that, Mr. Jamieson, with sundry northern bards whose effusions we have lately perused, convince ùs that Scotland may yet boast her poets, possessed of talents not unequal to those of former ages, whose productions this Editor, Mr. Walter Scott, and others, have assiduously employed themselves in recovering and recording for the amusement and advantage of future ge nerations. If we inclined to do more than "hesi"tate dislike," we might ask whether the same information might not have been given to the public in a single voJume, and at less expense? but as "wirewove cream-coloured paper, and hotpressed," seems by the law of custom, to form an integral part of a modern publication, we shall glance at it, without enlarging our censure at present. From reasons of which we regret the effect, though the cause is unknown to us, we understand by his Editor that Mr. Jamieson has retired from his native country, and settled in a foreign land: we should hope that wherever he resides his muse will not be indolent. VOL. I. [Lit.Pan, Dec. 1806.] Euvres de Louis XIV. The Works of Louis XIV. King of France, &c. 6 vols. 8vo. Treuttel and Wurtz, Paris and Strasburgh. Price £3. Dulau London, 1806. The title of this publication sufficiently points out its historical importance; to establish it, we need only to ascertain, that these volumes are the genuine production of the royal author whose name they bear. From the advertisement of the editor, we learn, that the materials of this collection are partly manuscripts in the handwriting of Louis XIV. which had been already noticed by Voltaire, and by Mr. Millot. They were delivered by Louis, a year before his death, to the Marshal Duke de Noailles; and by him deposited, bound in three vols. folio, in the King's library, in 1749, with a certificate by himself of their authenticity. These three volumes contain documents relative to the campaigns of Louis XIV., and several other writings, to which that King gave the title of Detached Pieces: such are: 1. Reflections on the trade of King (literally, métier de Roi): 2d. A memorial of instructions given to Philip V. when going to Spain: 3d. Draft of a proclamation by Louis XIV. to demand assistance of his subjects: 4th. Agenda; or short notes, containing hints of various plans connected with the events of the years 1666, and 1700. The memoirs, or instructions, for the Dauphin, are not in the King's handwriting; but the three different copies from which they have been completed, leave no doubt as to their being his production. It has been ascertained that they were all written by Pelisson, who, as it is well known, was employed by the King, to write confidentially under him. The style and train of ideas form an intrinsic proof not to be mistaken; and the manner in which these manuscripts have become public, removes all doubts. The first of these copies was given by Louis XIV. himself, to the same Duke de Noailles with the other papers before-mentioned, and by him lodged in the Royal Library in 1758, as appears by the certificate of the librarian. It is by no means complete; yet from this manuscript, a hasty and incorrect edition of the Memoirs of Louis XIV. in two volumes 8vo. has R been published, in the beginning of this year. The second copy was found among the papers of a Mr. Souchai, who gave a complete edition of the works of Pelisson. It is in Pelisson's hand-writing, like the former; and was a present from the librarian, who received the first from the Duke de Noailles. The other copy was given in 1786, by Louis XVI. to General Grimoard, among several other papers of the same nature, with directions to arrange the whole for the instruction of his children. We purpose reserving for the conclusion of this article our reflections on the works and character of Louis XIV.; but we cannot resist placing here the opinion entertained of both, by his ill-fated successor. When Louis XVI, says M. Grimoard, (advertisement to Vol. III.) ordered me to prepare an edition of the Memoirs of Louis XIV, he told me, that notwithstanding the respect due to his memory, I was not to dissemble either his faults, or his imperfections; that, for instance, he had conceived an exaggerated idea of true greatness, which made him continually assume a stately deportment, little short of theatrical representation; that, on the other hand, continual flattery had rendered him vain; that this vanity appeared too frequently in his writings; and particularly in his military memoirs; and that, as the work he intrusted to me, was intended for the education of his children, and that mankind, especially in a tender age, had, unfortunately a stronger propensity to follow evil, than good examples, he would feel obliged to me, (these were the King's expressions) to place in their proper light, those foibles of Louis XIV; thereby pointing out how much greater he would have been in reality, and how much more respectable in the eyes of posterity, if scorning pride, which produces only ridicule and humiliation, he had better known the distinction between inflated pomp and that noble, simple and dignified greatness, so necessary for the maintenance of sovereign power. The fate of Louis XVI. demonstrates that these sentiments are more amiable than useful in a King of France. Louis XIV. understood the nation he had to govern better than his more virtuous descendant; his dazzling qualities, many of them immoral and pernicious, secured their blind obedience. We need not ex patiate here on the dreadful consequences which followed the less politic, though more honourable conduct of the last monarch, The collection before us, is divided into five parts: the first, under the title of Mémoires historiques, given by the editor to the memoirs for the instruction of the Dauphin, contains the most remarkable events of Louis XIV.'s reign, from 1661 to 1668; with appropriate reflexions, for the use of his son. The second is composed of Mémoires historiques et militaires; it is a connected series of relations, with proper documents, of Louis XIV.'s campaigns, from 1667 to 1694. Select letters to various persons form the third. The fourth includes an inconsiderable number of literary productions, entitled to notice only from the character of their author. The fifth and last part does not properly belong to the King; the editor in consequence has entitled it, Additions to the Works of Louis XIV: it contains historical documents, some never published before, others but little known, at least in France, of which a part is translated from Dalrymple's Memoirs, a work well known among us, but not better than it deserves to be. In considering the various topics contained in this collection, we shall of course pay particular attention to those transactions which concern this country; following the chain of events, rather than the order of their distribution in the volumes. We may also add, that setting nationality aside, they certainly form the most interesting part of the work, and fully justify, as far as they go, Dalrymple's representations. Never did the Roman senate more despotically dispose of its tributary kings, and its creatures, than Louis XIV. disposed of Charles II. King of England, from 1668, to his death in 1684. No moral sentiment had sufficient power to repress in him that unfortunate propensity to venality, which derived a constant stimulus from the baseness of his manners. He was, notwithstanding, kept for a time within certain bounds, by the influence of his chancellor, the respectable Clarendon, whom France, not expecting to seduce, endeavoured to ruin with his master. The disgrace of this minister left Charles surrounded only by profligate parasites, and free to obey the infamous dictates of his greedy passions. first he seems to have followed the usual At tactics of those parliamentary orators, who, by a bold and direct attack, attempt to appear at the same time dangerous and useful to those whom they invite to bid for them. By his treaty with the Dutch, Charles gave Louis to understand that he must be feared, or be bought, but at the same instant he demands an explanation; apprehensions vanish, and Louis hastens to meet him half way. From that moment we behold the French monarch entangling the English King in his toils, tampering with him incessantly, and dexterously making the most of his bargain. Purse in hand, Louis dictates such treaties as suit his ambitious views: Louis dictates, Charles subscribes. No less than eight such treaties occur; secret, negociated by women, by ministers of different factions, by catholics, by protestants; some genuine, others only ostensible; some written in Charles's own hand, for security; others too dangerous to be entrusted to paper, but confided to verbal conventions known only to the parties. The conferences, correspondence, sidesteps, and manœuvres by which those unlawful conventions were effected, exceed whatever can be found in history. What a strange pair of characters do these two Kings present! Incessantly tormented by the distresses and cupidity which attend a prodigal, one exerts all his powers to convert whatever he possesses into money; his personal character, political and religious, the laws and institutions of his country, the liberty and existence of his allies the Hollanders, the spoils of Spain, the fate of Europe; after he had parted with Dunkirk, it is said, that he even attempted to derive a profit from his empty title as King of France! For a few millions of livres, argent comptant, he covenants to declare himself a catholic; he concurs in the destruction of a country wherein he had repeatedly found an asylum; he promotes the extension of an unjust power, already too extensive; and, in spite of his convictions to the contrary, he becomes himself the slave, and would have reduced his country to slavery, to a monarch whose ambition he could not but dread, and whose tyranny he could not but feel, had not his soul been rendered callous by the urgency of his necessities. Forced by the indignation of Europe and of his country to renounce his first alliance, he devises pretexts to retain the profits of it; he attempts to cajole his associate by offers of service; he endea vours to actuate his fears; threatens to call a parliament; receives cash, and engages to govern without a parliament; he wants a fixed salary, and obtains it! A King of England receives a fixed salary from a King of France! His people detect the engagement, and oblige him to break it; he pretends a mistake in the accounts, affects to be angry, threatens, is pacified, renews his negociations, and degrades himself by a third alliance;-and this, while the rest of Europe is resisting the inordinate concupiscence of the common oppressor. The taking of Luxem bourg by Louis, was a million of livres hush-money to Charles ;-even the factions of his kingdom, the dissatisfaction of his people, the dangers, real or imaginary, which he foresaw or pretended, were all converted by him to motives of pecuniary advantage! But in this strange traffic, the part acted by Louis is no less extraordinary. Rejoicing in the vicious habits which held Charles enslaved, he adds fuel to his passions, selects the most beautiful woman of his kingdom to gratify his wishes; and the Most Christian King even makes a settlement on the issue to which this illicit connection may give birth! He enthralls his friend in a treaty, which to publish would ensure his ruin; then threatens him with the publication, to make him feel his dependency. He pensions the King, pensions the courtiers, pensions the factions which opposed the court; he threatens the court with the vehemence of the factions; the guilty court shrinks from the too hazardous ordeal. The very man whom he had employed to pay Charles for declaring himself a catholic, is the very man who urges him to exile his brother for a similar declaration. The support of the catholic party had been the pretence of both Charles and Louis in their mutual engagements; yet the Test, that mortal blow to the English catholics, is the work of a cabal excited by the pious monarch, the eldest son of the church of Rome! At one time money, is lavished to enable Charles to govern without a parliament; at another it is distributed among the popular parties to rouse the passions of the parliament against their sovereign. The Prince who had urged the duty of disregarding the British constitution, and of assuming absolute |