excuse the author of this imitation, on the score of prudence, for sending such infammatory matter into the world, at a time when he must have been conscious that his own withers were not unwrung." But that he should adopt the cognomen of Tom Brown." which naturally brought to the reader's mind one of the foulest writers of the last age, was equally remarkable and unlucky, since it pat many upon drawing a comparison between the old debauchee and his admirer. Notwithstanding this, so pleased was Mr. Thomas Brown the younger with the relationship which he had discovered, that he brought forth, under the same appellation, another delectable volume, replete with the grossest abuse of personages of the first distinction. The "Letters of the Fudge Family at Paris," how-¦ ever, are not in the elder Brown's' manner at all; but a palpable imitation of Anstey's "New Bath Guide," with this difference, that the latter is a delicate inoffensive piece of raillery, in ridicule of fashionable follies; whereas the other is a wanton and virulent attack upon private individuals, personages in exalted station, and public institutions. We gladly turn from these abortions of prostituted genius, to a work, which, though not altogether irreprehensible in its moral character, possesses great poetical merit. The primary production of Mr. Moore is "Lalla Rookh; an Oriental Romance;" the story of which is simply this: In the reign of Aurungzebe, Abdalla, king of Bucharia, having abdicated the throne in favour of his son, sets out on a pilgrimage to Mecca, taking Delhi in his way. While there, a marriage is agreed upon between the prince, his son, and Lalla Rookh, the daughter of the emperor. As it was intended that the nuptials should be celebrated at Cashmere, the bride is escorted thither in a manner suited to her high descent and splendid distinction. Among her attendants is Feramorz, a young poet of Cashmere, whose office is to amuse the princess on the route, by the recital of stories in verse. These stories, four in number, form the principal contents of the volume, the exordium detailing the main adventure; and which gives a title to the work, being strangely enough written in prose, so that the name of Lalla Rookh never occurs once in any of the poems. But to finish the story. Feramorz. by his personal attractions, elegant manners, and lively genius, succeeds in fascinating the fair traveller, so that on her arrival in Bucharia, she is distressed at the thoughts of parting from so agreeable a companion. Trembling, faint, and pale, she is conducted to the throne to meet her bridegroom, when, on lifting up her eyes, she beholds in the monarch no other than her fellow traveller, the beloved Feramorz himself. This scene is highly dramatic, and every reader must regret that the tale of Lalla Rookh, by far the most interesting of the whole, has not been given like those which follow it, in metrical numbers. The romantic narratives which the minstrel tells to beguile the journey, are well invented, wrought up with spirit, and enriched with all the gorgeous splendour of oriental imagery; but they are overloaded with similes, and the characters are unnatural. Throughout the whole, there is a studied imitation of Lord Byron, and this in a writer of such original powers of conception and expression as Moore has proved himself, is a capital, we had almost said an unpardonable, fault; and in so saying we should have been justified, for the author of Lalla Rookh has stooped to copy even the deformities of his model. Now if this was meant for praise, it betrayed great want of taste; and if for a mere compliment, it became satire in disguise. There cannot well be a greater dissimilarity than that which marks the genius of these two poets. The one is a wizard, delighting in nothing so much as the war of nature, and that of the passions; the other is a sylph, taking things as they exist, now disporting itself in the solar beam, now reposing itself in odoriferous flowers, and thinking of nothing beyond the frolics of May. Anacreon might as well have imitated Hesiod, as Moore bave succeeded in copying the terrible graces of Byron. But so it is when a titled and rich poet makes his appearance, and attains popularity; a host of flatterers swell his train, and not content with sounding his praises, they endeavour, by aping his peculiarities, to gain either his friendship, or the applause of the public; if he limps in his measure, they hobble in their verses; if he is obscure, they are impenetrable; and if he is indecent, they throw off all modesty. Instead of quitting his own style of composition, to adopt that of the noble Lord, the author of Lalla Rookh should have consulted Horace, who would have taught him a better lesson. "hunc ego me, si quid con ponere curem Non magis esse velim: quam naso vivere pravo Spectandum nigris oculis nigroque capillo." 66 thirty-years' war, a search was made after him, but providentially without effect. He was in his study when the news was brought him that the city was taken, upon which he bolted the door, and had recourse to prayer. At that moment, one of his friends, accompanied by two soldiers, came and advised him to retire to the chancellor's house, which was protected by a guard, because Tilly wished to save the public archives. The colonel of a regiment who was upon this guard, addressing himself to Alting, said, With this battle-axe I have to-day We shall pass over the songs of this killed ten men, and Dr. Alting shall elegant writer, for though not insensi- be the eleventh, if I can discover ble of their merit as lyric composi- where he has hid himself:" then turntions, we cannot but censure their ing quick upon the professor, he exlascivious tendency. Well would it claimed, be for the poet, were he to follow the with great presence of mind, answer"Who are you?"-Alting, example of the learned Adrian Bever-ed, "I am regent of the College of land, who, after publishing many Sapience;" and was suffered to pass. immoral books, printed a caveat He soon after found means to retire against them, in the preface to which, in disguise to Heilbron, and from he says, "I condemn the warmth of my imprudent youth; I detest my loose style and libertine sentiments; I thank God who has removed from my eyes the veil which blinded me in so miserable a manner, and who would not suffer me any longer to seek weak arguments for the defence of a wicked cause, but has inspired me with the resolution to burn all that I have written of this nature; and to call most solemnly upon every person who is in possession of any of them to do the same. We shall close this sketch with the solemn and indignant lines of that great moral poet, Dr. Young: "I grant, the muse shame. Man smiles in ruin, glories in his guilt, NARROW ESCAPE. DR. Henry Alting, a learned Protestant divine, and professor of divinity at Heidelberg, was so obnoxious to the Romanists, that when the city was taken by General Tilly in the thence to Holland. THE CHEST IN THE CORNER.-No. 4. "I am that Pontanus, whom the guardians of EPITAPHIUM PONTANI. cousin's chest, appears to have been [The following letter, found in my written to caution him against some errors which are common to mankind. It was probably the gift of friendship on his entering the world. R. W.] My Dear Frederick, You ask me to write to you, but the scenery and occurrences of this neighbourhood present so little variety, that I fear they would afford you less interest. One thing, however, may be remarked, even in this sequestered spot, which is, that the generality of mankind display, in their actions, more folly than judgment; and though some great men have exercised their talents of ridicule on this subject, yet, I imagine, that a survey of the foibles of human nature may produce a more beneficial effect than we are apt to imagine. Let our observations be car ried on in the true spirit of philoso- | phy, and we shall find that the errors there visible may serve as beacons to warn us. True philosophy, in my opinion, consists in a disposition to trace effects to their causes, and to act in reference to those causes, in all connections with their effects. The philosophical way, therefore, of making use of the defects of others, is, after having discovered whence they result, to avoid the things which we perceive have generated error in those around us. tageous, in that it points out the things we should avoid, but also as it directs us to those pursuits, in which it will be most eligible for us to engage. There are certain characters who spend their time in vain endeavours to overthrow systems, which have been confirmed by the experience of ages, and in futile attempts to disprove facts which are authenticated by the most respectable histories; and this they call rectifying popular error, and benefiting the world. Of this description, was the late Bob Handom, (with whom I was acquainted,) a man of some intellect, of classical education, and of extensive information. Unfortunately. while he was at college, he met with an eccentric character, who was at that time engaged in writing a treatise on the occult sciences. The applause with which this was received by many men of brilliant genius, and the contumely with which it was treated by others who possessed only common sense, gave Bob a strange idea, that the multitude were always in the wrong, and that nothing could be true that was generally believed. Inherit One of the most common and dreadful sources of human error is, an extreme of self-love, which bears some resemblance to the excessive and ridiculous partiality that an injudicious mother manifests towards some favourite child; a partiality that admires ignorance, forbids instruction, applauds knavery, and connives at crime. From this evil, results a want of one of the most important attainments that human beings can possibly possess; that is, self-knowledge. Its advantages may be perceived, if we consider that it regulates a man's conduct. By self-knowledge, he discerns that the duty he has to performing from his ancestors an extensive towards himself is, to learn to guard those avenues of the heart (if I may be allowed the expression,) which are not fortified by nature. Every one has his peculiar weakness; and to this point he ought to direct his more particular attention. It is vain for a man of a quiet and peaceable disposition, to direct all his efforts to guard against intemperate anger, a crime against which nature has already provided a bulwark. It is not less absurd for one of a censorious and severe disposition to be only solicitous to prevent himself from conniving at the faults of others; because he is naturally liable to run into the opposite extreme. It would be preposterous for a person who had a natural dislike to intemperance, to be solely and constantly employed, in order that he may not fall into the crime, against which he is so happily armed. And yet, how often is it the case, that men are only turning their solicitude to the prevention of those evils, from which they have much less to fear, than from dangers, against which they have provided no de estate, and a considerable property in net nunc fence. "Mantua me genuit; Calabri rapuêre; te- | fat sheep, and one ox, should, on the net nunc Helvetu, cecini pascua, rura, duces.' same day, be killed and roasted, that his tenantry might feast thereon; that when his body was reduced to ashes, a sufficient quantity of wine to quench the fire should be poured on it; that his ashes should then be deposited in a silver urn, and be placed in his study. The ceremonies thus enjoined were actually performed by his ne "The characters in which this is inscribed are very antique, and seem to be about the age of the medals of Julius Cæsar; and hence it appears highly probable, that from this couplet some ignoramus endeavoured to argue, that Virgil was a native of Mantua. To be sure, his biographew and heir; and in his quondam phers assert that it was his own composition, but"- -Here our discourse was interrupted by a servant, who entered the room where we were sitting, to announce the death of a favourite horse. "Dead!" said my friend, in reply; "well, he died in a noble and glorious cause.' 66 So saying, he left the room. I then took the opportunity to ask the menial what his master meant?" Why, Sir," returned he, my master asserted, that a horse was a I cannot recollect what he called it, but he meant a beast that would live in water as well as on land. So the poor animal was kept in the pond for a few days, till it caught cold; and it died about five minutes since." Shortly after I took my leave, wondering that any one should be so destitute of prudence and common sense, as to devote his time to such preposterous and trifling pursuits. This unfortunate man, in the midst of his speculations, was at one time seized with a fever. I visited him during his illness. He was delirious, and was raving about the battle of Marathon, and Charles XII. of Sweden. When I inquired how he felt himself" So it is said," replied he; "but nobody shall succeed in persuading me that such a person as Miltiades ever existed." Before he died, he became perfectly sensible, gave directions, that after his death his body should be wrapt in linen, and conveyed, on an antique shield, to a large and enclosed plain behind his house; that a certain number of his books, and all his unpublished papers, with other combustibles, should form his funeral pile; that his corpse, deposited in the shield, should be placed on this pile, and burnt to ashes. He further ordered, that six No. 46.-Vol. IV. study is still to be seen his magnificent cinereal urn, and the antique iron shield of which I have already spoken. Poor Handom might have been, by his talents, property, and influence, rendered a blessing to the world, instead of which, he passed his time in employments, that excited the pity of the wise, and the derision of the ignorant; and his name only serves as a warning, not to engage in pursuits, that neither produce personal benefit, nor increase the knowledge of others. One grand evil that is the result of an excess of self-love, and a lack of self-knowledge, is slander, "Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie The employment of a certain class of persons, is, to spread this moral pestilence, and they only rejoice when they find their reports credited and retailed. Venomous as a serpent's tooth, ruthless as death, universal as the grave, these destroyers of reputation stalk about their neighbourhood, bearing with them a fatal atmosphere, that withers every flower of joy, and destroys every prospect of delight, leaving behind them weeping virtue, ruined character, triumphant envy, and applauding malice, to point out the track through which their devastating influence has passed. Youth, beauty, inexperience, accomplishments, instead of defending against their weapons, serve only, in many instances, as the butts of their barbed shafts, and expose their owners more fatally to their vile aspersions. Well has the Roman orator observed, "Nihil est tam volucre quam maledictum, nihil facilius emittitur, nihil citius excipitur, nihil latius dissipatur." Truly we might imagine that there would be a sanctuary found against slander 3 T in the grave:-but, no; while the heart is wrung with anguish at the loss of some dear and valued friend; while his last couch of rest is watered by the tears of surviving affection; while his example is quoted as a model for conduct by admiring friendship; the sacrilegious calumniator enters; the character, which, while life lasted, might live down slander, is no longer armed against his malignancy, and, with the utmost deliberation, will he tear from the sacred dead each jewel with which he has been adorned. One would imagine, from the vehemence with which the slanderer exclaims against crime, that he himself must be a most immaculate being. Were the world so full of wickedness as he asserts, and had he so deadly a detestation towards evil as he pretends, one should conclude that he would, as far as possible, withdraw from the society of such miscreants as he represents mankind to be. The different course of conduct, however, which he pursues, reveals the motives that excite his animadversions; for the fact is, that he only desires to make those around him believe that he is not like other men; he hopes to establish his own character upon the grave of the character of others, and to build his own credit upon the tomb of his neighbours' reputation; and the smile which he assumes, when he exercises his mischievous talents, is not so much the smile of malice, as the expression of fancied superiority and self-conceit. The great advantage of self-knowledge is, that it is influential: did such characters as the above possess it, they would ascertain, that to rectify their own errors is the employment in which they should engage; nor would they then with such delight represent the failings and improprieties of others; they would pity rather than expose them, knowing, "Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit." Nor does self-knowledge teach us only our personal duties, and our duties to mankind; it also instructs us to acknowledge the Supreme in all our ways, and thus secures divine direction over our paths. Before, my dear Fred, you proceed in life, study to know yourself, and you will find the benefit of it in future years. I remain, Your very affectionate friend, ESSAYS MORAL AND LITERARY. 1 No. 5.-On Happiness. "Alas! where shall we find Some spot to real happiness confin'd ?" So says the pensive Goldsmith; and the question may in one sense be answered by a reference to that beautiful invitation, "Come unto me, all ye that are weary, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Various, and unceasing, is the inquiry after happiness. The schoolboy seeks it in his holiday pastimes; youth and manhood alike pursue it with the eagerness of expected possession; and even age, with its accumulated experience, is often not slow to follow. Each, in imagination, beholds some object in which it resides, or marks out for himself some track in which it may be found. There is a vacancy in the heart of every man, which he seeks to people; an inquietude in his spirit, which he hopes to allay; and his constant cry is-restrest. The objects around him are each in its turn examined, but they fail to give it; the amusements of the age are participated in, but they cut the wound still deeper; and even nature, in her loveliest creations, is but the faintest pathway to it, for her primeval glory has departed. In our earliest days, indeed, life is to us an endless beauty; and every object we look upon appears apparalled in celestial light," for, as the poet says, 66 "Heaven lies about us in our infancy:" but we soon begin to feel that we have tasted the forbidden fruit; to know that good is followed by evil; that earthly things are insufficient to quiet our inward restlessness, or to satisfy our fondest longings; and that there is none fully happy, no, not one. The hero may march on in triumph, and may gain a thousand victories; but we know that Cæsar wept when he reflected that at his age Alexander had conquered half the world; and, that Alexander himself sat down and sighed, because he had not another world to conquer. Even literature itself is tinged with sadness, and the poetry of the age is imbued with melancholy. Perfect happiness, then, is at best but an unseen good, and its residence in this world as imaginary as the philosopher's stone. |