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No. 183.

REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1820.

The Sketch Book. By Geoffrey Crayon.
Second Vol. London, 1820.
pp. 419.

8vo.

[The success which attended the republication in England of the first and original volume under this title, has induced the author thus carly to reappear before the world; and we are not the less pleased with this, on account of feeling some self satisfaction at having taken the lead in the periodical and critical press, to welcome his literary labours, and to show that American talent was as liberally estimated and as freely praised amongst us as British; and that the charge of national bigotry and prejudice was not so well founded as it was. frequently made, by the majority of Mr. Irving's fellow citizens. The present volume, which is not inferior to its precursor, and is consequently a most agreeable performance, contains fifteen papers, five of them on the festivities of Christmas. Among others, we have been much pleased with Little Britain, as a picture of manners; and with the Stage Coach, as a natural sketch. The following, however, is of a length more practicable for transplantation into our page without being cut down, and we select it as a fair example of the work, and an entertaining as well as clever and sagacious view of John Bull, by a native of another country.].

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wonderfully captivated with the beau idea! He is a busy-minded personage, who thinks
which they have formed of John Bull, and not merely for himself and family, but for
that is perpetually before their eyes.
endeavour to act up to the broad caricature all the country round, and is most generously
Un-disposed to be every body's champion. He
luckily they sometimes make their boasted is continually volunteering his services to
Bull-ism an apology for their prejudice or settle his neighbours' affairs, and takes it in
grossness; and this I have especially no- great dudgeon if they engage in any matter
ticed among those truly home-bred and ge- of consequence without asking his advice;
nuine sons of the soil, who have never mi- though he seldom engages in any friendly
grated beyond the sound of Bow bells. If office of the kind without finishing by getting
one of these should be a little uncouth in into a squabble with all parties, and then
speech, and apt to utter impertinent truths, railing bitterly at their ingratitude. He un-
he confesses that he is a real John Bull, and luckily took lessons in his youth in the no-
always speaks his mind. If he now and ble science of defence, and having accom-
then flies into an unreasonable burst of pas-plished himself in the use of his limbs and
sion about trifles, he observes, that John his weapons, and become a perfect master
Bull is a choleric old blade, but then his at boxing and cudgel play, he has had a
passion is over in a moment, and he bears troublesome life of it ever since. He cau-
no malice. If he betrays a coarseness of not hear of a quarrel between the most
taste, and an insensibility to foreign refine-distant of his neighbours, but he begins, in-
ments, he thanks heaven for his ignorance- continently to fumble with the head of his
he is a plain John Bull, and has no relish for cudgel, and consider whether his interest or
frippery and nicknacks. His very proneness honour does not require that he should aned-
to be gulled by strangers, and to pay ex-dle in the broils. Indeed, he has extended
travagantly for absurdities, is excused un-his relations of pride aud policy so com-
der the plea of munificence-for John is pletely over the whole country, that no
under the name of John Bull, he will con- some of his finely-spun rights and dignities.
always more generous than wise, Thus, event can take place, without infringing
trive to argue every fault into a merit, and Conched in his little domain, with these fita-
will frankly convict himself of being the ments stretching forth in every direction, he
honestest fellow in existence.
is like some choleric, bottle-bellied old spi-
der, who has woven his web over a whole
chamber, so that a fly cannot buzz, nor a
breeze blow, without startling his repose,
and causing him to sally forth wrathfully
from his deu.

but immediately after one of these fits of extravagance, he will be taken with violent qualms of economy; stop short at the most trivial expenditure; talk desperately of being ruined, and brought upon the parish; and in such moods, will not pay the smallest tradesman's bill, without violent altercation. He is, indeed, the most punctual and discontented paymaster in the world; drawing his coin out of his breeches' pocket with infinite reluctance; paying to the utter most farthing; but accompanying every guinea with a growl.

With all his talk of economy, however, he is a bountiful provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His economy is of a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how he may afford to be extravagant; for he will begrudge himself a beef-stake and pint of port one day, that he may roast an ox whole, broach a hogshead of ale, and treat all his neighbours, on the next.

To do the duties of the chapel, he maintains, at a large expense, a pious and portly family chaplain. He is a most learned and decorous personage, and a truly well-bred Christian, who always backs the old gentleman in his opinions, winks discreetly at his little peccadilloes, rebukes the children when refractory, and is of great use in exhorting the tenants to read their bibles, say their prayers, and, above all, to pay their rents punctually, and without grumbling.

fortably in the discharge of their duties. The consequence is, that, like many other
To keep up this chapel has cost John venerable family establishments, his manor
much money; but he is staunch in his reli- is incumbered by old retainers whom he can-
gion, and piqued in his zeal, from the cir-not turn off, and old style which he cannot
cumstance that many dissenting chapels have lay down. His mansion is like a great hos-
been erected in his vicinity, and several of pital of invalids, and, with all its magnitude,
his neighbours, with whom he has had quar-is not a whit too large for its inhabitants.
rels, are strong papists.
Not a nook or corner but is of use in housing
some useless personage. Groups of veteran
beef eaters, gouty pensioners, and retired
heroes of the buttery and the larder, are seen
lolling about its walls, crawling over its
lawns, dozing under its trees, or sunning
themselves upon the benches at its doors.
Every office and out-house is garrisoned by
these supernumeraries and their families;
for they are amazingly prolific, and when
they die off, are sure to leave John a legacy
of hungry mouths to be provided for. A
mattock cannot be struck against the most
mouldering, tumble-down tower, but out
pops, from some cranny or loop hole, the
grey pate of some superannuated hanger-on,
who has lived at John's expense all his life,
and makes the most grievous outcry at their
pulling down the roof from over the head of
a worn out servant of the family. This is an
appeal thatJohn's honest heart never can with-
stand; so that a man, who has faithfully eaten
his beef and pudding all his life, is sure to be
rewareed with a pipe and tankard in his old
days.

The family apartinents are in a very antiquated taste, somewhat heavy, and often inconvenient, but full of the solemn maguiHis domestic establishment is enormously ficence of former times; fitted up with rich, expensive; not so much from any great out-though faded tapestry, unwieldy furniture, ward parade, as from the great consumption and loads of massy gorgeous old plate. The of solid beef and pudding; the vast number vast fire places, ample kitchens, extensive of followers he feeds and clothes; and his cellars, and sumptuous banqueting halls,singular disposition to pay hugely for small all speak of the roaring hospitality of days services. He is a most kind and indulgent of yore, of which the modern festivity at the master, and, provided his servants humour manor house is but a shadow. There are, his peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little now however, complete suites of rooms appaand then, and do not peculate grossly on him rently deserted and time worn; and towers before his face, they may manage him to per- and turrets that are tottering to decay; so A great part of his park, also, is turned fection. Every thing that lives on him seems that in high winds there is danger of their into paddocks, where his broken-down to thrive and grow fat. His house servants are tumbling about the ears of the household. chargers are turned loose, to graze undiswell paid, and pampered, and have little to John has frequently been advised to have turbed for the remainder of their existence do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and the old edifice thoroughly overhauled, and worthy example of grateful recollection, prance slowly before his state carriage; and to have some of the useless parts pulled which, if some of his neighbours were to his house dogs sleep quietly about the door, down, and the others strengthened with imitate, would not be to their discredit. In and will hardly bark at a house-breaker. their materials; but the old gentleman al-deed, it is one of his great pleasures to point ways grows testy on this subject. He out these old steeds to his visitors, to dwell swears the house is an excellent house on their good qualities, extol their past serthat it is tight and weather proof, and not to vices, and boast, with some little vain-glory, be shaken by tempests-that it has stood for of the perilous adventures and hardy exseveral hundred years, and, therefore, is not ploits, through which they have carried him. likely to tumble down now-that as to its He is given, however, to indulge his vebeing inconvenient, his family is accustomed neration for family usages, and family into the inconveniences, and would not be com- cumbrances, to a whimsical extent. His fortable without them-that as to its unwieldy manor is infested by gangs of gypsies; yet size and irregular construction, these result he will not suffer them to be driven off, befrom its being the growth of centuries, and cause they have infested the place time out being improved by the wisdon of every gene- of mind, and been regular poachers upon ration-that an old family, like his, requires every generation of the family. He will a large house to dwell in; new, upstart scarcely permit a dry branch to be lopped families may live in modern cottages and from the great trees that surround the house, snug boxes, but an old English family should lest it should molest the rooks, that have inhabit an old English manor-house. If you bred there for centuries. Owls have taken point out any part of the building as super-possession of the dovecote; but they are hefluous, he insists that it is material to the reditary owls, and must not be disturbed. strength or decoration of the rest, and the Swallows have nearly choked up every chimharmony of the whole; and swears that the ney with their nests; martins build in every parts are so built into each other, that, if frieze and cornice; crows flutter about the you pull down one, you run the risk of towers, and perch on every weather cock; having the whole about your ears. and old gray-headed rats may be seen in every quarter of the house, running in and out of their holes undauntedly, in broad daylight. In short, John has such a reverence for every thing that has been long in the family, that he will not hear even of abuses being reformed, because they are good old family abuses.

His family mansion is an old castellated manor house, grey with age, and of a most venerable, though weather-beaten appearance. It has been built upon no regular plan, but is a vast accumulation of parts, erected in various tastes and ages. The centre bears evident traces of Saxon architecture, and is as solid as ponderous stone and old English oak can make it. Like all the relics of that style, it is full of obscure passages, intricate mazes, and dusky chambers; and though these have been partially lighted up in modern days, yet there are many places where you must still grope in the dark. Additions have been made to the original edifice from time to time, and great alterations have taken place; towers and battlements have been erected during wars and tumults; wings built in times of peace; and out-houses, lodges, and offices, run up according to the whim or convenience of different generations; until it has become one of the most spacious rambling tenements imaginable. An entire wing is taken up with the family chapel; a reverend pile that must once have been The secret of the matter is, that John has exceedingly sumptuous, and, indeed, in spite a great disposition to protect and patronize. of having been altered and simplified at various He thinks it indispensable to the dignity of periods, has still a look of solemn religious an ancient and honourable family, to be pomp. Its walls within are storied with the bounteous in its appointments, and to be monuments of John's ancestors; and it is eaten up by dependants; and so, partly from snugly fitted up with soft cushions and well-pride, and partly from kind-heartedness, he liner chairs, where such of his family as are makes it a rule always to give shelter and nclined to church services, may doze com- maintenance to his superannuated servants.

All these whims and habits have concurred woefully to drain the old gentleman's purse;

and as he prides himself on punctuality in got abroad, and are rare food for scandal in He is like his own oak; rough without, bur money matters, and wishes to maintain his John's neighbourhood. People begin to sound and solid within; whose bark abounds credit in the neighbourhood, they have look wise, and shake their heads, whenever with excrescences in proportion to the caused him great perplexity in meeting his his affairs are mentioned. They all "hope growth and grandeur of the timber; and engagements. This too has been increased that matters are not so bad with him as re-whose branches make a fearful groaning and by the altercations and heart-burnings which presented; but when a man's own children murmuring in the least storm, from their are continually taking place in his family. begin to rail at his extravagance, things must very magnitude and luxuriance. There i His children have been brought up to differ- be badly managed. They understand he is something, too, in the appearance of his old ent callings, and are of different ways of mortgaged over head and cars, and is con- family mansion that is extremely poetical thinking, and as they have always been al- tinually dabbling with money lenders. He and picturesque; and, as long as it can be lowed to speak their minds freely, they do is certainly an open-handed old gentleman, rendered comfortably habitable, I should not fail to exercise the privelege most cla- but they fear he has lived too fast; indeed, almost tremble to see it meddled with durmorously in the present posture of his affairs. they never knew any good come of this fond-ing the present conflict of tastes and opiSome stand up for the honour of the race, ness for hunting, racing, revelling, and prize- nions. Some of his advisers are no doubt and are clear that the old establishment fighting. In short, Mr. Bull's estate is a very good architects that might be of service; should be kept up in all its state, whatever fine one, and has been in the family a long but many I fear are mere levellers, who may be the cost; others, who are more pru- while; but for all that, they have known when they had once got to work with their dent and considerate, entreat the old gentle- many finer estates come to the hammer." mattocks on the venerable edifice, would man to retrench his expenses, and to put his What is worst of all, is the effect which never stop until they had brought it to the whole system of housekeeping on a more these pecuniary embarrassments and domes-ground, and perhaps buried themselves moderate footing. He has, indeed, at times tic feuds have had on the poor man himself. among the ruins. All that I wish is, that seemed inclined to listen to their opinions, Instead of that jolly round corporation, and John's present troubles may teach him but their wholsome advice has been com- snug rosy face, which he used to present, he more prudence in future. That he may pletely defeated by the obstreperous conduct has of late become as shrivelled and shrunk cease to distress his mind about other peoof one of his sons. This is a noisy rattle- as a frost-bitten apple. His scarlet gold-laced ple's affairs; that he may give up the fruitpated fellow, of rather low habits, who neg-waistcoat, which bellied out so bravely in less attempt to promote the good of his fects his business to frequent ale houses-is those prosperous days when he sailed before neighbours, and the peace and happiness of the orator of village clubs, and a complete the wind, now hangs loosely about him like the world, by dint of the cudgel; that he oracle among the poorest of his father's te- a mainsail in a calm. His leather breeches may remain quietly at home; gradually get nants. No sooner does he hear any of his are all in folds and wrinkles; and apparently his house into repair; cultivate his rich brothers mention reform or retrenchment, have much ado to hold up the boots that estate according to his fancy; husband his than up he jumps, takes the words out of yawn on both sides of his once sturdy legs. income-if he thinks proper; bring his their mouths, and roars out for an overturn. unruly children into order-if he can; reWhen his tongue is once going, nothing can new the jovial scenes of ancient prosperity; stop it. He rants about the room; hectors and long enjoy, on his paternal lands, a the old man about his spendthrift practices; green, an honourable, and a merry old age. ridicules his tastes and pursuits; insists that he shall turn the old servants out of doors; give the broken down horses to the hounds; send the fat chaplain packing, and take a field-preacher in his place-nay, that the whole family mansion shall be levelled with the ground, and a plain one of brick and mortar built in its place. He rails at every social entertainment and family festivity, and skulks away growling to the ale-house whenever an equipage drives up to the door. Though constantly complaining of the emptiness of his purse, yet he scruples not to spend all his pocket-money in these tavern Convocations, and even runs up scores for the liquor over which he preaches about his father's extravagance.

It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He has become so irritable, from repeated crossings, that the mere mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for a brawl between him and the tavern oracle. As the latter is too sturdy and refractory for paternal discipline, having grown out of all fear of the cudgel, they have frequent scenes of wordy warfare, which at times run so high, that John is fain to call in the aid of his son Tom, an officer who has served abroad, but is at present living at home, on half pay. This last is sure to stand by the old gentleinan, right or wrong; likes nothing so much as a racketing roystering life; and is ready, at a wink or nod, to out-sabre, and flourish it over the orator's head, if he dares to array himself against paternal authority.

These family dissensions, as usual, have

Instead of strutting about, as formerly, with his three-cornered hat on one side; flourishing his cudgel, and bringing it down every moment with a hearty thump upon the ground; looking every one sturdily in the face, and trolling out a stave of a catch or a drinking song; he now goes about whistling thoughtfully to himself, with his head drooping down, his cudgel tucked under his arm, and his hands thrust to the bottom of his breeches pockets, which are evidently empty.

Amyntas, a Tale of the Woods; from the Italian of Torquato Tasso. By Leigh Hunt. London, 1820, 12mo. pp. 145.

The Aminta of Tasso, in which it has been asserted by the most skilful and Such is the plight of honest John Bull at learned Italians, criticism could find no present; yet for all this the old fellow's fault, is comparatively little known in this spirit is as tall and as gallant as ever. If country; and, except as a model of lanyou drop the least expression of sympathy guage, it does not appear to us that its or concern he takes fire in an instant; genius is calculated for our national taste. swears that he is the richest and stoutest The gallantry and elegance of the Court of fellow in the country; talks of laying out Ferara, at the period of its production, have large sums to adorn his house or to buy no corresponding feelings in British bosoms; another estate; and, with a valiant swag- and the effeminacy of the Italian character, ger and grasping of his endgel, longs ex- excites ridicule, rather than sympathy, in ceedingly to have another bout at quarter-the rougher natures of England. But even staff.

in Italy, (as with us its copy, the Faithful Though there may be something rather Shepherd), the Pastor Fido of Guarini is whimsical in all this, yet I confess I cannot more read than the Aminta; and though we look upon John's situation, without strong must confess to the truth of Tasso's remark, feelings of interest. With all his odd hu- when asked by the author's friends, (after mours and obstinate prejudices, he is a ster- witnessing its performance,) what he thought ling hearted old blade. He may not be so of it?" if he had not seen my Aminta, he wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks him- could not have done it" it is, we think, self, but he is at least twice as good as his demonstrable, that the novelty of this species neighbours represent him. His virtues are of pastoral composition, and the extraordiall his own; all plain, homebred and unaf-nary beauty of the style, were the chief refected. His very faults smack of the raci- commendations of the elder Poet. ness of his good qualities. His extravagance savours of his generosity; his quarrelsomeness of his courage; his credulity of his open faith; his vanity of his pride; and his bluntness of his sincerity. They are all the redundancies of a rich and liberal character.

As neither of these qualities could be transferred to a translation, we do not consider Mr. Hunt's choice of subject to be a happy one. Indeed, he has not wasted much labour upon it: his version is a school-boy's task, and little superior to those renderings

of the Italian text, which we are accustomed | Thou know'st the daughter of Cydippe and
to see in the books of operas, sold for the Montano, that has such a store of herds,
edification of the Bull family, when they Sylvia, the forest's honour, the soul's firer?
visit the gallery or pit at the King's Theatre. Of her I speak. Alas! I lived one time,
Nor could the harmony, the felicitous ex-
So fastened to her side, that never turtle
Was closer to his mate, nor ever will be.
Our homes were close together, closer still
Our hearts; our age conformable, our thoughts
Still more conformed. With her I tended nets
For birds and fish; with her followed the stag,
And the fleet hind; our joy and our success
Were common: but in making prey of animals
I fell, I know not how, myself a prey.
There grew by little and little in my heart,
I know not from what root,
But just as the grass grows that sows itself,
An unknown something, which continually
Made me feel anxious to be with her; and then
drank strange sweetness from her eyes, which
A taste, I know not how, of bitterness.
Often I sighed, nor knew the reason why;
And thus before I knew what loving was,
Was I a lover. Well enough I knew

pression, the niceties of the original, be given
in English-for our language has no equi-
valents for what is most admirable in these
respects. Mr. Hunt has, however, trans-
lated very faithfully; and, as a lesson book
to learners of the Italian, his publication
may be useful, though it has no chance of
affording pleasure to the lovers of poetry.
Before extracting a few specimens, we
may notice, that there is a dedication to Mr.
Keats, in which the similarity between
that hard and Tasso is insinuated; and a
flippant preface, into which something of the
Examiner newspaper hatred of courts is
wrought with the customary modesty of
our political-poetical-Thersites *. In this
essay we hear of things not very intelligible,
such as
an additional grace of introduc-
tion"
unconspired grace
dullen,"" the beardiness of nature,"-and
the "
strong aboriginal taste of nature,"
&c. ; but neither these, nor some indifferent
wood-cuts, need detain us from Amyntas.
The fine prologue by AMORE in Abito
Pastorale, is very fairly translated, and the
first scene of the first act, so celebrated in
the original, is still more closely and literally
rendered.

an

66

to

- Amyn. While yet a boy, scarce tall enough to
gather

The lowest hanging fruit, I became intimate
With the most lovely aud beloved girl,
That ever gave to the winds her locks of gold.

I

left

But fear and shame withheld
That too audacious fire,
And made them gently hang.

But while into my bosom's core, the sweetness,
Mixed with a secret poison, did go down,
It pierced me so with pleasure, that still feigning
The pain of the bee's weapon, I contrived
That more than once the enchantment was re-
peated.

From that time forth, desire

And irrepressible pain so grew within me,
That not being able to contain it more,
I was compelled to speak ;-

The chorus at the end of the first act conveys the spirit of the author, but is lamentably different in versification.

O lovely age of gold!

Not that the rivers rolled

With milk, or that the woods dropped honey
dew;

Not that the ready ground
Produced without a wound,

Or the mild serpent had no tooth that slew;

At last; and I will tell thee how; pray mark me. Not that a cloudless blue
Thyr. I mark thee well.

Amyn. One day, Sylvia and Phillis
Were sitting underneath a shady beech,
with them when a little ingenious bee,
Gathering his honey in those flowery fields,
As the red rose; and bit, and bit again
Lit on the cheeks of Phillis, checks as red
With so much eagerness, that it appeared
The likeness did beguile him. Phillis, at this,
Impatient of the smart, sent up a cry;
"Hush! Hush!" said my sweet Sylvia, "do
not grieve;

have a few words of enchantment, Phillis,
Will ease thee of this little suffering.
That little ivory horn of mine in payment,
The sage Artesia told them me, and had
Fretted with gold." So saying, she applied
To the hurt cheek, the lips of her divine
And most delicious mouth, and with sweet
humming

We seldom see this newspaper, but were Murmured some verses that I knew not of. exceedingly amused with a recent Number Oh admirable effect! a little while, which accidentally fell into our hands, and in And all the pain was gone; either by virtue which, with a most tyrannical profusion of Of those enchanted words, or as I thought, abuse, the Editor called Wellington, Castlereagh, By virtue of those lips of dew, Brougham, and Denman, "persons guilty of That heal whate'er they turn them to. diplomatic cant and hypocrisy!" Wilberforce, who till then had never had a wish "a pious member-a canting and convenient Beyond the sunny sweetness of her eyes, tool of the stronger party!" A. Mr. Malet Or her dear dulcet words, more dulcet far Charter, of Taunton, and A. Chichester, Esq. Than the soft murmur of a humming stream M. P. (who, it seems, had the hardihood to Crooking its way among the pebble-stones, preside at a Pitt Club anniversary), " insolent, Or summer airs that babble in the leaves, vain, prejudiced, shallow, and pretending per- Felt a new wish move in me to apply gons!" Dickinson and Lethbridge, the county This mouth of mine to hers; and so becoming members, "Imbeciles!" Mr. Brougham, Crafty and plotting, (an unusual art "guilty of gross insincerity-the effect of a legal With me, but it was love's intelligence) and party education!!" Mr. Canning, "super-I did bethink me of a gentle stratagem ficial, gew-gaw of oratory, Jobber, &c.!!" To work out my new wit. I made pretence. Sheriff Rothwell, "a tory, hostile to the reform As if the bee had bitten my under lip; of extravagance and abuses in the city!" The And fell to lamentations of such sort, house of Commons, "insidious, despicable, and That the sweet medicine which I dared not ask unjust!" &c. &c. and all this profuse impartiality With word of mouth, I asked for with my looks. of reviling, in one little sheet! surely this The simple Sylvia then; charitable writer must do outrage to his kinder Compassioning my pain, nature, so Peter-Pastoral and Cosmopolitish, Offered to give her help when he utters such measureless abuse of others To that pretended wound; less pure and perfect than himself. It is the And oh ! the real and the mortal wound, same tender-hearted person, who elsewhere Which pierced into my being, wished that Buonaparte were released, and When her lips came on mine, the battle of Waterloo fought over again, just to Never did bee from flower prove who was the greatest general-slaughter Suck sugar so divine, a hundred thousand human beings, to satisfy the doubts of Mr. Examiner, as to the question of superiority between two commanders!

For ever was in sight,

Or that the heaven which burns,
And now is cold by turns,

Looked out in glad and everlasting light;
No, nor that ev'n the insolent ships from far
Brought war to no new lands, nor riches worse
than war:

But solely that that vain

And breath-invented pain,
That idol of mistakes, that worshipped cheat,
That Honour,-since so called
By vulgar minds appalled,

Played not the tyrant with our nature yet.
It had not come to fret
The sweet and happy fold

Of gentle human-kind;
Nor did its hard law bind

Souls nursed in freedom; but that law of gold,
That glad and golden law, all free, all fitted,
Which Nature's own hand wrote,--What
pleases, is permitted.

Then among streams and flowers
The little winged Powers

Went singing carols without torch or bow:
The nymphs and shepherds sat
Mingling with innocent chat

Sports and whispers; and with whispers low
Kisses that would not go.
The maiden, budding o'er,
Kept not her bloom uneyed,
Which now a veil must hide,

Nor the crisp apples which her bosom bore :
And oftentimes, in river or in lake,
The lover and his love their merry bath would
take.