THE MAN OF SPIRIT.

man

To be a man of spirit, in the fashionable acceptation of the term, is to be possessed of the acmé of perfection. We therefore very naturally ask, What is necessary to acquire so eminent a distinction? Is it honour, generosity of feeling, superiority of intellect, delicacy of sentiment, or a love of justice? those virtues and qualities which spread a brilliancy over the dull path of life, and lift the soul above the petty sorrows and bitterness of the world? such being, after all that has been said by metaphysicians and philosophers, the only natural laws, the connecting ties that keep men together in the union of social life. No, these qualities are by no means necessary; in fact, they would be inconsistent with the character of a " of spirit." A man that was known to be actuated by such sentiments, and endowed with such qualities, would be immediately accused of wanting spirit, that rock upon which the hope of many a family hath split. It is, therefore, not that spirit of humanity which ought to glow in the bosom of every man who wishes to be respected and endeared by his fellow-creatures that spirit from whose germ spring a thousand good qualities, and which has been creative of all the good that ever exalted or immortalized man: no, 'tis a quality of the mind, both dastardly and unworthy, the possession of which seems to be the highest ambition of the generality of the young men of the present day.

To be a man of spirit, education would not only be completely unnecessary, but also out of character; for what can be more indicative of a want of spirit, than a habit of poring over books, or spoiling the eyes with Greek characters and mathematical problems? However, a show of it is not to be despised (by him), and he accordingly accumulates a variety of phrases which have some relation to the French and Italian languages, though, to obtain the character of a linguist, his first endeavour is to get acquainted with the slang of the stable: the boxing-ring follows; then the last of these treasures of acquisition-the garble of the turf. As soon as he is released from the trammels of the University, where he distinguishes himself only by being expelled, or by the many narrow escapes he has had of this point of notoriety, his first care is to see life. With these intentions, he exhibits his prowess by knocking down a feeble watchman, and scampering away from his pursuers. To upset an old woman's apple-stall---knock, and run away, at doors during night---steal the number plates off hackney-coaches, though they may seem childish and insipid amusements to some common-place minds, to him are bold and spirited achievements. Having indulged himself in these intellectual pursuits till they want a farther zest, he proclaims to all around he is going on his travels; Paris is, of course, the centre of attraction-and the unmeaning frivolities and disgusting licentiousness of that dissipated metropolis, fix a heart already polluted, a taste prematurely depraved.

He has hitherto stopped short of crime, but morality or reflection at Paris would be symptoms of English mauvais honte, and as much out of place as boots and buck-skins in a drawing-room. Perhaps, a few lurking sparks of independence still remain in his breast, and he can but ill reconcile himself to the emptiness and insipidity he meets every where around him ; but a contempt of the enjoyments of social life, sacrifices every generous feeling, and he becomes an Englishman only by name, and a Frenchman by every vice that disgraced his nation. It is proverbial in Paris,

that there are none so really abandoned and depraved as the English are there; such are universally despised by the light-hearted Gauls, and their acquaintance is only coveted, as the miners value the dirt, for the sake of the gold that is concealed within it. There are some people unfashionable enough to believe, that spirit, like honour, is a beautiful sentiment of the mind, that propels its owner towards the achievement of noble actions, and prevents him from the commission of any thing mean or disgraceful. A man who possesses a spirit, one would hardly think, would be under an obligation to another. But yet we have known men of spirit condescend to wear the clothes of their tailor, and call them their own, forgetting they never have, nor do they ever intend, to pay for them. There are some who have condescended to cringe and fawn, and perhaps ruin a shopkeeper, and borrow money without ever having the intention of returning it: and at last, after all condescension, to accept of an asylum supported at the public expense. Some may be simple enough to suppose, that to obtain the distinction of a "man of spirit," (that being the height of the ambition of so many,) is attended with many difficulties. There is no man, according to the present arrangement of things, who has it not in his power to become one of these heroes. Rank does not signify, for the nobleman who glories in spending double his income, and the private soldier, who prides himself that "his pay won't find him in drink," are included under the same denomination. He has but one simple course to pursue, and that is, in the first instance, to discard from his breast every honourable and manly feeling. The removal of these unfashionable appendages will leave a foundation worthy of the structure. He should then acquire a knowledge of the language of beggars and thieves in their respectable avocations, denominated flash. In manners to be the gentleman, would be contemptible, or, in his own elegant term, a spooney-the knowing jerk of the coachman-the sly address of the pick-pocket-should be acquisitions, in his eyes, far superior to the accomplishments of England and France united,---to be the terror of watchmen, and the never-failing subject of police reporters, the height of his glory. But something more is to be done he must bear the reputation of being a gay man. If he has art enough in his composition to take advantage of the weakness or confidence of the opposite sex, he does not hesitate either on seduction or adultery. But if, as is generally the case, he is despised by them as an insignificant and contemptible creature, on whom neither affection nor faith can be placed, slander and detraction perform what dissimulation and selfishness cannot. A woman's character, in his hands, is like one living in an infectious clime; it may escape pollution, but no one will have any communication with it in future. It is also necessary that a 66 man of spirit" should run in debt, which is an enviable distinction; to defraud his creditors, and screen himself from the bailiffs that are in pursuit of him, is incumbent on him, till the Insolvent Act, a voyage to America or the Isle of Man, frees society from its curse, and his country from one of her greatest pests!

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* Within the last six months, it is an authenticated fact, that one morning, a nobleman, a baronet, and a member of parliament, were brought from the watchhouse, before a magistrate, for a riot, such as ringing of bells, singing and shouting in the streets, &c. &c.

MONTHLY JOURNAL.

NEW BOOKS,

WITH CRITICAL NOTICES.

Theodric. A domestic Tale, and other Poems, by Thomas Campbell. Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green.

THE name of Campbell has been so long associated with the poetry of our country, and the productions of his genius are so well known, that it is unnecessary, in this place, to enter upon any elaborate disquisition on the nature and extent of his talents. In the prosecution of that part of our plan, in which we intend to remark upon the writings and genius of celebrated living poets, we shall again introduce the author of the "Pleasures of Hope" to the notice of our readers; an intention which supersedes the necessity of any prolonged observations in speaking of the work before us. The poem we have just named, and "Gertrude of Wyoming," had long placed Mr. Campbell beyond the reach of the vengeance of vindictive criticism. They, in fact, had placed him in the foremost ranks of living bards; and his "Lochiel's Warning," and "Hohenlinden," those offsprings of the divinest enthusiasm, were, and will continue to be, looked upon as unsurpassed by any poet living or dead. His minor poems (minor only in length) breathed a purity of feeling, and exhibited an elegance of expression, which stamped them as master-productions. With these effusions before them, our countrymen had long had an elevated opinion of Mr. Campbell's powers: and when the death of the lamented Byron announced to them that the master-spirit of the age had rushed to its native skies, the mind naturally turned to Campbell as the being who should fill that niche in the audience-chamber of the mansion of fame, which had been occupied by so glorious a predecessor. The announcement of Theodric, under such circumstances, was calculated to rouse the expectation of thousands-and it did rouse it. We, among others, looked forward to the day of publication with the most intense anxiety; and it is now our painful duty to state that we have read the work, and are disappointed in those hopes which had been so strongly excited. Perhaps the high character which we had assigned to it in our imagination, has done much towards lessening it in our estimation. It is observable in the actions of the human mind, that if things fall beneath our expectation, they, at the same time, sink beneath their true value; and on this principle it may be that we consider Theodric has added but little to the high reputation, as a poet, which its author already possessed.

Theodric is a domestic tale, and, as such, does not admit of those fine bursts of enthusiasm, for which many of Campbell's earlier poems are distinguished. It is in the battle array, where

"The field of the dead rushes red on the sight,"

where the thousands

"Are true to the last of their blood and their breath,
And, like reapers, descend to the harvest of death:"

it is in mourning over the vanquished, when "the thunders are hushed," and

"The red eye of battle is shut in despair,"

that the genius of Campbell rushes forth from its secret recesses. It is in scenes like these that we behold the divine emanations of his mind, and the victorious warrings of his spirit. He must be upon hills where the breeze is as free as his own soul, or upon the giant steep, where are collected

"The gathered winters of a thousand years ;"

or on the blood-stained deep,

VOL. IV.

"Where each gun,

From its adamantine lips,

Spreads a death-shade round the ships,
Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun

B