recollections of which he was desirous to preserve in his poem. But as this regeneration never arrived, it is certain that Dante could not look upon his poem as a finished work, and could never prevail on himself to allow it to be published, during his life time. Besides, Dante possessed an elevated soul, and men of this stamp are less liable to be dejected by fear, than to be continually agitated by their hopes. While under the sway of his generous and potent passions, he expected, with unshaken confidence, the events which were to favour the side of virtue and justice, and under this impression, he discharged the fury of his wrath, and vented the bitterest imprecations, against all those who basely opposed themselves to his salutary reformation. But it was not against the Guelphs alone, his enemies and persecutors, that he poured out the full measure of his rage. He was a Gibeline, because the choice of a party was necessary, and this choice he made from the dictates of a pure conscience, and an upright understanding. But at heart he was only Italian, and all his affections were concentrated in the grandeur, prosperity, and glory of Italy. Consequently, he could never conscientiously spare the Gibelines, wherever he beheld in them monsters of atrocity and crime. All the provinces of Italy were devastated at that period, devoured, and deluged with blood, by the anarchichal democracy of the Guelphs, as well as by the oppressive despotism of the Gibelines. Dante, as a true citizen, and an impartial minister of truth, devoted both these parties, without any distinction, to the general execration of ages; he unmasked their vices, their crimes, and baseness, and called down upon their guilty heads the vengeance of the divinity, with a prophetic tone that strikes astonishment and terror into every soul. Thus finding himself without country, without friends, and without resources, begging in every quarter a wretched hospitality, and having nowhere to lay his aching head, how could it be expected that he should publish his poem, without exposing himself to fresh persecution even from his own party? What prince, of that time, would willingly have consigned himself to infamy? Who would have received the poet, or ventured to afford him an asylum? This consideration at once completely overturns all the chronological contrivances of those commentators, who have seemed desirous of ascertaining the dates of the composition of this poem, by means of the historical dates of the events introduced, without reflecting that the author, though he announces them as predictions, might have introduced them after the event. Thus for example; while the grand vision is supposed to happen during holy week, in the year 1300, Dante, in the first Canto, speaks of the victories of Cane della Scala, that took place only towards the year 1319, when that warlike prince had been nominated chief of the Gibeline league. There is therefore no reason to imagine, that Dante had composed his poem at the latter epoch, because he VOL. V. 1 died two years afterwards, and it would be absurd to believe, that so gigantic a work could be undertaken and completed within the scanty period of two years. We must therefore conclude, as has been well observed by Sismondi, that the poem was nearly finished when the author inserted that episode. This hypothesis, in like manner, demolishes all the interpretations of the text, which are placed on the fundamental supposition that Dante had published his poem in his own life-time. Foscolo makes a forcible appeal to these two leading principles; he follows them through all their ramifications, and with a variety of corroborating circumstances, a well supported accuracy of analysis, and a degree of circumspection, very rare among critics. He dismisses a great number of prejudices, rectifies a variety of equivocal dates, and displays before us the spirit of the poem, such as it ought to be viewed, with a strict reference to the circumstances of the times, the passions, and opinions, as well as the political and moral condition of the illustrious author. That Dante was desirous of effecting not only the political regeneration of Italy, but also, a complete reform in the tenets and discipline of the church of Rome, is a truth that results from several striking passages in his poem. It would certainly be very unfair to attribute this inclination to a spirit of irreligion on his part. In the first place, an ardent desire to reform religion proves not only a religious spirit on the part of the reformer, but also the existence of a small portion of fanaticism; for the unbeliever and the latitudinarian do not trouble themselves about reforms, but rather wish to overturn altars. Besides, Dante delivers his profession of theological belief, in terms so clear and accurate, that the imputation of infidelity would, with respect to him, be something more than mere calumny-it would be a proof of blindness and ignorance. Foscolo has been the first to make a very valuable remark on this point, which has escaped the sagacity of all the preceding commentators. The poet was not only persuaded that a reformation of the church was a matter of the highest importance for the glory of religion, but was also confident that he himself was invested with a celestial mission for that purpose. This is so evident, that in his voyage to Paradise, after having been examined by the apostles on all the articles of the Christian faith, he allows himself to be openly consecrated for this apostolical mission by St. Peter, who, with emblematic terms and forms, surrounds him three times with light, as if willing to perform the actual ceremony of the imposition of hands, which the holy ritual requires for the consecration of the sacred ministry. It can hardly be questioned that Dante had some object in view, in dwelling so pointedly on this mysterious episode. But whoever entertains any doubts on Dante's sincerity on this head, must be ignorant of the emotions and inspirations of a mighty genius on the subject of eternity. The founders of religious systems have not all been downright impostors. The enthusiasm of an invincible conscience, which is totally inexplicable to the vulgar and insensible head, has frequently transported them beyond themselves, and engaged all their thoughts and feelings in so close an affinity with the Deity, that at least they believed that they have become actually and bona fide the propagators of his will upon earth. The character of Dante was essentially of this stamp. At the present day, the poem of Dante is the favourite book with the enlightened readers of Europe, and especially with those who are gifted with noble and generous souls. It is delightful to peruse his ardent invectives against all the abuses, crimes, and oppressions that have deluged the world with blood, and which do not yet cease, and perhaps never will cease, to debase and brutalise the human species. Dante is the Tacitus of poetry, who speaks at once to the understanding and the imagination, and by his bold and vivid delineations and colouring, raises to transport the emotions of the heart and mind. But it is necessary again to remark, that there is a class of individuals still in existence, who, unable to depress his genius, seek every means of calumniating his reputation, in revenge for unmasking their hypocrisy and vices. Thus a critic of the long robe has lately discovered in the dusty archives of Montecasino, a sort of a narrative, drawn up in bad Latin during the twelfth century, in which there is a tale of a miraculous voyage to hell, purgatory, and paradise, by a child of nine years old, who was then living in that celebrated convent, and afterwards died there; and he pretends that from this original, Dante derived the first idea of his poem. But even supposing that to be the case, there would remain nothing to this paltry philologist, but the honour of having discovered another oppor tunity of giving vent to his malignity. For who would dispute with Dante the merit of the poetical execution, which is every thing in this department of literature? And there is a vast difference between the astonishing creative powers of a strong, vivid, and picturesque imagination, and the production of a pitiful legend, written in prose,in the barbarous style of the chronicles of that age. It was in Boijardo that Ariosto found the first idea of his Orlando Furioso; but he is not on that account less great and less original. Such an imputation is, however, not only devoid of all proof, but very improbable. Dante had already formed the conception of his poem before he quitted Florence. Neither the history of his life, nor the account of his travels, informs us that he ever went to the convent of Montecasino to procure this precious MS. as this critic conjectures. Besides, how are we to believe that Dante, a famous and formidable Gibeline, who by his genius alone struck terror into the whole league of the Guelphs, could prevail on himself to repair to a congregation of his enemies, who would have devoured him alive, if he had the misfortune to fall into their hands. We are sorry to find that Foscolo passes too slightly 1 over this striking absurdity, which he might demolish, and triumphantly expose. But perhaps he considered it as a matter of ridicule, and totally unworthy of any serious notice. We shall probably return to this commentary as soon as the author publishes the continuation of it, and we hope that the public will hail with approbation an enterprise of so much spirit and learning, which challenges the applause of all the admirers of truth and real genius. The literary labours of Foscolo have a claim to the patronage of Italy, and even of all Europe: the degree of interest which he has contrived to throw round the present work, affords sufficient evidence, that in taking up the pen of the critic, he has not laid down the pencil of the artist; and that he has added to the high reputation which he now enjoys, by so able and so ingenious a performance. ART. XII. Der Eremit in Deutschland. Eine Schrift über Sitten und Gebrauche des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts in Monatsheften. Herausgegeben von Panse. Erster Band (No. I., pp. 190). Leipzig. 1826. London: Treüttel & Wurtz. WE opened the first numbers of the Hermit in Germany' with sanguine expectations: for we calculated on the certainty of gleaning no small quantity of agreeable matter from a periodical work, which professed to scrutinize national manners and customs of the nineteenth century.' We looked to gather from its pages, in the shape of light and playful essays, a great many striking sketches of the state of German manners; and we imagined, that even the broadest caricatures of a monthly satirist, must illustrate the contemporary habits and feelings of his countrymen. But we cannot say that our anticipations have been altogether realised. The 'Hermit in Germany' is but a palpable and clumsy imitation of M. Jouy's French Hermit; and the copy has scarcely a trace of the lively spirit and mordacious humour of its prototype. Nor has it engrafted upon the mere work of imitation, many original and national characteristics. The French Hermit is perfectly the man of his country; his opinions, reflections, and portraits, all are French to the life, and beyond the possibility of mistaking them: but the Hermit in Germany has scarcely any thing that is exclusively German about him: his sketches introduce us to little of his country's peculiar scenes; and his figures have often not more of the Teutonic air and costume, than of the mien and habiliments of any other land. The characters and circumstances which he introduces, have a vague want of local individuality; they belong as much to all the world, as to the situation which he has assigned to them they are not genuine German at all; or, at best, only Frenchified German. But, though thus defective in originality, the essays in these publications are far from being without their curiosity. For they may serve as specimens of the periodical literature of Germany, of which, from whatever cause, very few examples find their way to this country; and we shall, therefore, probably be affording some novelty, when we proceed to skim lightly over the contents of the first number, much less for any purposes of unprofitable criticism, than for the sake of finding a few passages to exhibit in translation. Such extracts may amuse, while they will illustrate the matter and manner of German magazine writing. The Hermit in Germany, then, be it known, is a monthly journal which was last year, and perhaps is still, published at Leipzig. Stripped of the borrowed and awkward machinery of its fiction, the work is a magazine, made up of prose papers on various subjects; snatches of poetry; short scraps of anecdotes and opinions, under the title of miscellen; morsels of news, literary, theatrical, musical, and critical; and, though last, not least,-fly-sheets of regular advertisements, the charge for which, it is obligingly announced, is limited to the rate, certainly no very exhorbitant one, of one groschen, or somewhere about three-halfpence, by the line! The ostensible editor of this farrago libelli is a M. Panse, counsellor of legation (legationsrath) at Weisenfels, whose title is probably nothing but a title; since counsellors of every description are, in some provinces of Germany, "as plenty as blackberries." Of this gentleman's literary ability, as exhibited in the compositions for which he is responsible, we shall enable our readers, in some measure, to judge for themselves: suffice it otherwise to say, that his German style is by no means very elegant or classical; but that his articles are abundantly prefaced and interlarded by quotations, Greek, Latin, French, and English. Of these last are to be found, inter alia, two lines characteristic enough of his journal, and which are thus accurately and amusingly printed : “A migthy pom, tho' made of little things."-Dryden. Meaning thereby, simply, a 'mighty pomp:' and again— "Idle! no mother, my pulse doth beate like your's, It is no madness that possesseth Hamlet."-Shakspeare. In this last precious morceau, it will require some ingenuity to recognise the words of the bard; and the whole history of M. Panse's quotation is evident and entertaining enough. It is quite necessary to explain to our readers that this passage is intended for: Queen. "This is the very coinage of your brain : This bodiless creation, ecstasy Is very cunning in. |