not established a single truth: through old age, they have relapsed into infancy; and through reasoning, into uncertainty: they have become strangers to the glow of mutual interest, and have sunk into that state which Dante calls the hell of the lukewarm." (P.49.)

In the next chapter, upon the connexion of literature with liberty," she contends powerfully for the greater importance of education to free states than to despotisms. It is altogether inexplicable to us that there should have been statesmen in our own country, at the same time friends to liberty and enemies to education. This is to give a sword to a man who, it is previously determined, shall not be taught to wield it. Madame de Staël, however, concerns herself chiefly to plead for the education of the higher orders in free states. And, certainly, where the fictitious barriers between the classes existing in despotic states are cast down, and power is to be maintained by personal qualifications, it is of the highest importance that those qualifications be assiduously cultivated. There is a very eloquent contrast in this chapter between the influence of the fine arts and of philosophy on the liberties of a people. The tyrant trembles at the philosopher, but encourages the artist: Madame de Staël tells us why.

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Poetry has more frequently been employed in flattering, than in censuring power; and, in general, the fine arts may sometimes contribute, through the very enjoyments they procure, to fashion men to that mould in which tyrants would wish them to be cast. By the endless variety of pleasures which they daily hold out to enjoyment, the arts have a power to divert the mind from cherishing any predominant idea: they enlist men on the side of their sensations: they breathe into the soul a kind of voluptuous philosophy, a deliberate unconcernedness, a passion for the present, an indifference for the future; than which nothing can be more favourable to tyranny." (P. 60).

In the next chapter, on the connexion of literature with " piness," we find the following powerful declamation.

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"From the arid sadness which we feel when abandoned and forlorn, from that icy hand with which misfortune presses on us when we imagine ourselves to be deserted by pity and compassion, we are rescued in some measure by those writings that still bear the breathing impression of noble thoughts and virtuous affections. Such writings draw forth tears in every situation of life: they raise the mind to general meditations, which divert our attention from personal suffering: they create a society for us, and a communion both with dead and living authors, and with all those who concur in admiring the works which we approve." (P. 67.)

A debtor herself to letters for consolation in misfortunes, she

thus expresses the obligation by which, in this respect, she feels. herself bound to future generations.

"The voyager, whom a storm has cast upon an unpeopled shore, engraves upon the surrounding rocks the names of the aliments he has discovered, and points out to those who may be involved in a similar fate the resources which he employed against danger and death. We, whom the chances of this mortal life have reserved for a period of revolution, should also make it our business to transmit to future generations an intimate knowledge of those secrets of the soul, of those unexpected consolations, which parent nature has employed to smooth our way through the rugged paths of life." (P. 70.)

Having thus generally rendered her homage to letters, or rather to philosophy, a homage which we should think as fairly due as it is eloquently expressed, if her philosophy had been less independent, she enters upon that detailed examination of the literature of all nations, and the various causes by which it has been assisted or impeded, which occupies the rest of her volumes. She begins with the Greeks. And the first question which stands in the way of this prophetess of perfectibility, who believes that letters, taste, knowledge, and philosophy have been from the beginning in a state of gradual progress, is this: How is it to be explained that the first poet has not been surpassed in 3000 years?—To this she returns at least an ingenious answer. Poetry is defined by Aristotle to be "an imitative art;" and, as far as it consists of imagery without sentiment, the definition is exact; and such is the poetry of Homer. But such poetry is unsusceptible of indefinite improvement. A portrait cannot do. more than resemble, nor is it even to be expected that this species of poetry should improve. The ancients took the first possession of a land unexplored, of nature unoccupied and unused. Such scenes and images, therefore, as were best adapted to poetry, they at once seized upon and appropriated, and thus enriched themselves and exhausted the materials for future poets. If, however, modern poetry is not superior to the ancient in painting, it is in sentiment. The moderns have combined philosophy with imitation, have associated thought with art they have animated dead nature: they have breathed a new soul into inert matter: they have found "books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing." Such then is the progress of poetry; and the interval between the first and last poets is as vast as that between matter and mind. The question, however, still recurs-"Why is the taste of the early poets so pure?" The proper answer is, we think, that bad taste arises chiefly from labour after novelty; but

Homer had no predecessor or rival. Besides, it is impossible to judge of the taste of a writer who is himself allowed to create the standard of taste. Is it certain that the catalogue of ships, the inexhaustible prolixity of speeches and details, the repetitions, the minute dissections of human bodies, the naked display of smoking entrails, the verbose preludes of battles, the mean exultations of victory, and the coarse amours and vulgar quarrels of the gods and goddesses, are in good taste? For these heterodox questions, we think it right to say, that we, and not Madame de Staël, are responsible.

There were doubtless many special circumstances which contributed to the sudden perfection of imitative poetry in Greece. The events, the characters, the superstitions, the customs of the heroic ages, were peculiarly adapted to the display of poetical imagery. And as their poetry was recited at religious festivals, it became invested with something of the grandeur and solemnity of their mythology. If, on the other hand, we look for what may be called the philosophy of poetry in the Grecian poets, it is wholly wanting. The moral of their poetry is infinitely coarse; their virtue is mere animal courage; women are transferred from man to man like cattle; slavery is universally recognized; chaste and virtuous love is utterly unknown.

The author concludes her chapter on the Greeks by an eloquent and masterly examination of the influence of their form of government, and their circumstances with regard to other nations upon their literature; but it defies abridgment. Much, however, is conveyed in this single sentence-"they had but a small territory to guard, and the great theatre of the world for action." This at once supplied them with leisure for the cultivation of letters, and a stage on which to display their acquirements. But as they had few great objects in view, their writings pointed more to amusement than utility; and, consequently, they were often as defective in solidity as they were exquisite in taste. Madame de Staël laments that the Grecian privilege is now withheld from authors of announcing themselves publicly and explicitly (in the style of Corinna, we imagine) as candidates for fame, of unblushingly calling upon mankind to hear and applaud them. In this we cannot agree with her. Modesty is so uniform a companion of greatness, that no mind of ingenuous worth will regret the restriction imposed upon it; and the public will lose but little, if those who deserve but little are forbid to be clamorously importunate.

We are compelled to pass over, though with regret, the observations upon the tragedy, comedy, philosophy, and eloquence of the Greeks. They are many of them new, brilliant, and pro

found. It is impossible to go through them without being carried back into the circle of sages and orators, and gaining a new familiarity with the minds of men whom we have hitherto admired at a distance. Madanie de Staël moves among them as one to whom all the mysteries of their minds, as well as of their philosophy, have been revealed. She presents them to us as so many automata, touches the springs on which, as it were, their movements depended, displays their mechanism, the ropes and pulleys which check or impel them. No part of the work has impressed on us a higher respect for her knowledge and understanding. She concludes the chapter with this epitomised account of them.

"The love of fame was the motive which guided every action of the Greeks; they studied the sciences in order to be admired; they supported pain to create interest; they adopted opinions to gain disciples; and they defended their country for the sake of ruling it: but they had not that internal sentiment, that national spirit, that devotion to their country, all which so eminently distinguished the Romans. The Greeks gave the first impulse to literature and the fine arts; but the Romans gave to the world invaluable testimonies of their genius." (P. 146.)

The author proceeds next to the Latin literature. The lite rature of Rome is divided into three epochs :-that of the republic, of Augustus, and of the succeeding emperors. Madame de Staël considers the Roman character as fully displayed only in the first of these epochs. Indeed, a nation has little or no character unless it is free. The ruling passion of a Roman was evidently the love of his country; and as the highest stations in the country were accessible to all, this imparted to their character and writings a serious, energetic, wise, and philosophic spirit, unknown to most other nations in that comparatively infantine state of the world. In Greece, the writer strove to recommend himself simply to the people; in Rome, to the aristocracy, to the elevated few with whom power, in a temperate and wise government, chiefly resides.-Literature had no reception in Rome till it was conceived to be an instrument of importance and value to the state, and upon these terms alone it was received. Other qualities conspired to give its peculiar character to the early Roman literature. They dreaded excess, and respected woman; whence issued a subdued language and a prevailing tenderness. At the same time their writings, though an improvement in this respect on the Greeks, are defective in metaphysics, in what may be called the philosophy of mind. The Romans despised all strong emotions. It is a singular observation of Madame de Staël, that, to such a degree were the more ardent feelings sub

dued, that there is no instance in their history of any man whose intellects were disordered by disappointment. But emotions that were rarely felt, and still more rarely displayed, were not likely to be either understood or investigated: hence, in part, their want of philosophic writings. To philosophise To philosophise on mind would have been like writing on anatomy without the use of a skeleton or a dissecting knife. This defect runs through all their compositions. Even their histories, with the exception of Tacitus, who lived in an age more favourable to reflection and sentiment, however distinguished for painting, spirit, and eloquence, were deficient in the development of mind, in those analytical observations, which render history the "school of princes." The calamities of the times which succeeded the Augustan age were calculated to form men to habits of reflection and seriousness, to create such writers as Tacitus, Juvenal, Quinctilian, Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius. Standing as they did amidst the ruins of their country, they could scarcely fail to moralise upon the causes of decay, and to denounce and stigmatise its authors. The style, indeed, of some of these latter writers was inferior to that of their predecessors. The severity of the times denied that sort of communion to men of letters which is necessary to establish a proper standard of literature. Writing also upon preoc cupied topics, they were tempted to secure novelty by a measure of artifice and affectation. They recorded strange events, and Scourged extravagant crimes; and the state of mind in which meu describe and chastise gross delinquencies is not likely to dictate expressions either refined or correct. These chapters conclude with a masterly investigation of some of the causes which produced the decay, the guilt, and the calamities of imperial Rome. The author comforts us by an assurance, that her fall supplies no foundation for the mournful aphorism that states have a maximum at which decay necessarily commences; and that modern empires are exempt from most of the evils which issued in the ruin of Rome.

She thus briefly enumerates some of these causes.

"The state of slavery, which exempted one class of men from the performance of any moral duty; the small supply of means which could promote general instruction; the diversity of philosophical sects, which threw the minds of men into incertitude with respect to what was just or unjust; the indifference relative to suffering and death, an indifference which owed its birth to courage, but which terminated by exhausting the natural sources of sympathy:-these were the several sources of that savage cruelty which existed among the Romans." (P. 200.)

Hitherto Madame de Staël has found little difficulty in maintain