the drama, imagined that they ought to put up with prose, homely or otherwise, according to the wants and necessities of their characters. That course has been very properly abandoned in the work before us. Heroic metre, after the manner of the ancients, is obviously the most suited to the uses of colloquial intercourse, whether carried on by maids or their mistresses.

Again, it used to be thought of importance that there should be an interesting story-a plot, as it was called, with a beginning, a middle, and a conclusion, developed in the progress of the play-we expect to hear no more of such imbecilities-at least, if there be sufficient virtue in the world, to make men follow the example of the author of Alphonso.

But let us see in what other respects the old-fashioned notions about dramatic perfectibility deserve to be exploded. The scene of this comedy is laid in Mantua-Mantua Musarum Domus. Now one of the ordinary run of poets would suppose, that having made his election of that renowned city, he was bound to make the ladies and gentlemen of the comedy think and speak like "choice Italians." Such are the errors of small minds-our author, on the contrary, has all his Mantuans bred up in the city of London, gives them the fullest enjoyment of the freedom of the corporation-and they do address each other most pleasantly about mining companies, and aldermen's chains, and other topics, that are altogether indigenous to the climate of Bishopsgate within. The poor foreigners in fact are not allowed to indulge a single reminiscence of home or to make a single allusion to the history, past or present, or to the manners and customs, of their country-Well indeed may they exclaim, with the shepherd in Virgil's Eclogue, "Superet modo Mantua nobis." This method of giving to dramatic characters the advantage of what is called "keeping," is, we are ready to believe, the most unexceptionable that can well be devised, as will be made, we doubt not at some future time, more apparent than our limited ken at present enables us to discover it to be. Of the merits of style and expression which characterise this production, a judgment will be best formed from a few specimens.

Count Lorenzo, backbiting a rival of his, who is supposed to be of mean birth, thus addresses the father of the beauty:

-One would deem him
Sprung from the king o' the beggars, son and heir
To his most mendicant majesty.-If once

He gain your daughter's hand, he will not fail
To bring a tribe of worthy gentlemen

To claim alliance with house and purse.

your

The famed prince Filch, covered with honour's scars,
'Graved by the beadle's lash,—and he count Prig,

That travels in the porridge pot, will haste

To greet their loving cousin; ne'er again
Shall you pass by the public stocks unhailed
By some august relation.'

Of the uses to which an ingenious poet may turn the most apparently barren subjects, a very pleasing example is given in the following lines:

All the world

Is of one family, although we bear

Our follies with a difference. This one carries

Pride on a scutcheon of pretence, that waste
Quartered with avarice; poverty of soul

Blazoned in or-guile couchant in a field

Of fairest argent.'

The comedy is dedicated to the Marquis of Lansdown, and as it would seem by way of restitution to that nobleman,--for it was at Bowood, the hospitable mansion of the Marquis, that this comedy was in great part composed. But a dedication is too small for the gratitude of the poet, and he therefore begs to remind his patron of some lines in the fourth act, which were intended by him, to describe in part, the character of the owner of that hospitable mansion.' A passage so very peculiarly circumstanced, is a parley to quotation; and in complying with the invitation, we think it only justice to ourselves to declare, that we harbour not the slightest malice against the Marquis of Lansdown, his person or family.— 'Some few, who happy in themselves and bent

ART. XIX.

On that high aim, the happiness and rights

Of all around, stretch forth the liberal hand

To learning, art, and sacred charity.

And wear the gorgeous garb of wealth and power
With true simplicity of domestic worth,

Pure as e'er brightened the remotest cot

That ne'er temptation entered.'

Dame Rebecca Berry; or Court Scenes in the Reign of Charles the Second. 3 vols. 8vo. 188. London: Longman & Co.

⚫ 1827.

It must have been a very great disappointment to the authoress of Dame Rebecca,' after she had finished her pretty little web of literary labour, and was just about to give it to the light, whilst perhaps pondering within herself how happy she was to have been able to take out a patent, as it were, for exhibiting all that was curious and interesting in Charles's court-to find that" Woodstock" and "Brambletye-House" had been in the market before her. It was not necessary that, in the preface, the writer should assure us, that nearly the whole of her work had been finished before the announcement of the other two productions had been made. We could very easily believe, that to the mind of one who shews not a little sagacity and acuteness in other matters, it would never occur to risk character and future success, by entering into rivalship with such tried veterans in literature as Sir Walter Scott and Mr. Smith. Neither can there be traced the slightest resemblance between ' Dame Rebecca' and the two works of those gentlemen, in those points where a resemblance, arising from imitation, would be sure to discover itself.

The foundation of the performance before us is a story of very simple texture. It is adopted from a homely, but ancient ballad, which again has, no doubt, derived its incidents from tradition. The particulars which are given of persons and events of celebrity, seem not to have been sought for, but to grow naturally out of the course of the tale. These episodes form some of the happiest portions of the novel. The descriptions of court scenes are not, perhaps, remarkable for a guiding and animating poetical spirit; but they are elaborately and curiously faithful to truth-an advantage which an enlarged acquaintance with the personal and political

history of the time alone, could have enabled any writer to attain. The style will be found to be generally perspicuous and spirited, though now and then stiffened, or, to borrow a phrase from millinery, brocaded by an attempt to rival the stateliness of expression that belongs to an elder time. We hope Miss Spence will not think us gratuitously unkind, if we point attention to one or two awkward instances of negligence. Rebecca, in her childhood, is described as being possessed, amongst other attractions, of a comely quantity of black hair: her laughing eyes sparkled with gladness, and her black hair turned into a thousand fantastic curls over her face and neck.'-vol. i, p. 9. About some twenty-five pages further on, Rebecca having attained her fourteenth year, is made to answer to the following portrait:- Her fair complexion, mild blue eyes, with a profusion of light curling hair, rendered her a most attractive creature.'-ib. p. 33. And in the same page we are told, that her silken blond ringlets flowed, &c.'-a supposed change, which is exactly the reverse of what takes place in nature. We know with what facility a writer in the ardour of composition will fall into the commission of little sins against chronology-when one is in pursuit of some desirable epithet, or fairly committed to the stream of the narrative, it is not very probable that one will stop to calculate dates, and enter into nice comparisons of eras. It must have been, doubtless, in some moment of poetic rapture that our agreeable authoress has renewed the popularity of the ballad of "Black-eyed Susan," and enabled her heroine to have it by heart, many years before the author happened to be born.

ART. XX.

The Wolfe of Badenoch, a historical Romance of the Fourteenth Century. By the Author of "Lochandu." 3 vols. 8vo. 11. 4s. Edinburgh Cadell & Co. 1827.

ALTHOUGH the author of Waverley has occasionally sought materials for his admirable fictions beyond the pale of his own country, yet it could not have been from any difficulty he experienced in finding, in Scottish history, an ample field for the exercise of his genius. Other writers have employed their powers on the traditions and manners of the people of the North with considerable success; and the author before us has incontestibly proved, by experiment, that it was not so very rash in a person of his powers to enter upon the dangerous ground of the Scottish historical Novel. Undoubtedly it was dangerous ground-snccess alone could justify the courage of the attempt; and it is upon a fair and dispassionate reference to this criterion, that we venture to state the decision of our judgment-that success has been attained in the Wolfe of Badenoch."

In choosing so remote an era in the annals of Scotland for the scene, where his fancy was to employ its creative power, our author, along with having some advantages, imposed on himself the necessity of surmounting difficulties of no ordinary nature. The political history of the period must have been familiar to him- he must have been equally well skilled in the biography of the principal public characters of the time, and a variety of concomitant facts of manners, customs, and costume, must he have mastered, in order to stamp his scenes with the colouring of truth. Merely then to say that he has overcome the obstacles that opposed the bold un

dertaking, is, under the circumstances, no small award of praise to his talents.

We are filled with varying emotions, as we contemplate the picture which is here given of all the repugnant traits of uncivilised life. We see the influence of ungovernable passion, rendering the accidental lord of great possessions a terror to his vassals-the dread of his neighbours—and an outlaw without the pale of all social intercourse. We see the relations of society-the pursuit of the arts of peace-abandoned for the sword of civil war, and the gratification of personal hatred. We see the power of revenge. We see the power of religion made the instrument of gain or ambition; and, (a very pleasing part of the picture), we see the natural mildness of the other sex preserved amidst the rudeness of barbarous life, occasionally exciting general homage, and sometimes winning deep attachment; a trait of manners which well agrees with the records of history. Here, too, is to be found, what in the uncouth period we are speaking of was too frequently seen in Scotland, a female character, who, having thrown off her virtue, dismissed all delicacy, and became one of the most revolting figures in the picture of rude society. Such, indeed, is the lady Mariota, as she is very powerfully sketched in this romance. The Wolfe himself, is a very bold combination of those qualities that are very nearly allied to virtue, such as courage and fortitude; but which become, under the impulse of passion, the accessories of crime. In the heated and impetuous scenes of combat, and the disastrous progress of war, our author shews great power of imagination. The firing of the town of Forres, and the fierce exultation with which the Wolfe contemplates the advancing flames; and then, again, the struggle between Douglas and Hotspur, are described in all the vivid colouring of a poet's pencil.

Of the style which has been adopted in this work, a difference of opinion will, no doubt, be expressed. However, we shall merely observe, that the use of the quaint and solemn phrase peculiar to a remote era, cannot be more justifiably resorted to, in any instance, than where the actors of the scene are marked by dispositions and habits, which are equally foreign to our own experience.

We trust that the author of the Wolfe of Badenoch,' will not hastily abandon the region of fiction. It would be with the anticipation of receiving no common degree of gratification, that we should hear of his adopting materials from a nearer and more amiable epoch of manners and characters, than any which he has yet selected.

FOREIGN.

ART. XXI. Euvres de Michel Lepeletier Saint Fargeau, deputé aux Assemblées Constituante et Conventionelle, assassiné le 20 Janvier, 1793, par Paris, Garde du Roi; precedées de sa vie. Par Felix Lepeletier, son frere. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 502. 10s. 6d. Brusselles: Arnold Lacrosse. Londres: Rolendi. 1826.

MICHEL LEPELETIER, whose works are contained in the present volume, was born at Paris, March 29, 1760, of a noble family. He gave very early proofs of intellect and capacity; when eight years and a half old, he wrote the Life of Epaminondas; at twenty-two, he became advocate

6

general in the parliament of Paris, (président a mortier). During the whole of his career, he displayed a character of courage and energy. He possessed a strong mind, with a mild and persuasive eloquence. Being a sincere friend of law and morality, he could not bring himself to be the supporter of what he thought a corrupt and capricious court; and as he opposed it, he was exiled with the parliament. Being nominated a member of the states general, in 1789, and afterwards to the constituent assembly, and the convention, he devoted himself actively to the support of the revolution. Though of noble birth, he was one of the first that laid down his titles; and though possessed of privileges, he resigned them. He became one of the most active members of the constituent assembly; and we find among his works, a plan of public education, which, though impracticable, as it now stands, contains some very useful ideas; and also, a project of a penal code, which does equal honour to his humanity and his learning. The basis of this code rests on the abrogation of the penalty of death: the author admits but one exception, in which this penalty ought to be enforced, and that is, in the case of the heads of parties. This opinion influenced his conduct during the trial of Louis XVI. ‘I have defended before the convention,' said he, the system of the abolition of capital punishments; but I then imagined, and I now hold it as a fixed opinion, that if reason and humanity demand this glorious victory over ancient errors and prejudices, policy, and the supreme welfare of nations, require, perhaps, a single exception, against those whose existence is a cause of troubles, a focus of feelings, and a source of hope to the malevolent, while it is a ground of uneasiness to the citizen.' He voted for the penalty of death; and his conscience was as much at ease on the occasion, as that of an upright judge on pronouncing a just sentence according to the dictates of conscience and equity. He continued to lead a peaceful and easy life, and on January 20, was taking a frugal repast at a restaurateur's, in the Palais Royal, when a Garde du Corps, called Paris, addressed him in these words: "Are you Lepeletier Saint Fargeau?" "Yes," replied the other." You have voted for the death of the king, what is your opinion on that subject?" "I think him guilty," replied Lepeletier, "I have voted from the dictates of my soul and conscience." At these words, Paris drew a dagger, which he had kept concealed about his person, and plunged it into the bosom of Michel Lepeletier, exclaiming:-" Villain! there is your reward."

Michel Lepeletier received his wound at five o'clock in the afternoon, and he breathed his last at one in the morning. The dagger penetrated at his right side; the wound was large, deep, and incurable; and he had to struggle with death during seven hours. He saw his end approach with great resignation; he died recommending the love of liberty to the surrounding spectators, and addressing these last words to his brother: "I die contented, I perish in the cause of liberty." His remains were deposited at the Pantheon. After his death, the republic adopted his daughter.

As for his assassin, Paris, he contrived to escape, and for a long time passed for dead; but M. F. Lepeletier states some facts, which prove that this garde du corps took refuge in England, where he remained till 1813, which is the true period of his death.

Such are the principal features of the life of Michel Lepeletier. The