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therefore, William, I was unwilling fresh token of her attachment to him. to lose the relish of it!" When in the evening he came into Another time, Goldsmith, wishing the kitchen with features expressive to have a little innocent merriment of an accession to his happiness, with William, hit on the following Goldsmith accosted him in these scheme, which he accomplished: words" So, William, you have had William had fallen in love with a a letter from Yorkshire: what does young woman who lived in the neigh- she say? Come tell me all about it." bourhood as servant, and they for "Yes," returned William, nodding
some time kept each other's company. his head, "I have had a letter from The young woman soon after left her Yorkshire; but I sha'nt tell you, situation, and went back into York- Mr. Goldsmith, any thing about it: shire, her native county. But she No, no, that will ever do."-" Well promised to write to William, though then," said Goldsmith, after having for some reason or another that pro- put a few more questions, which were mise was never fulfilled. This cir- all negatived, suppose, William, I cumstance gave him no little uneasi- tell you what the contents of the ness, and having so often enquired of letter are:" When looking upon a the postman to no purpose, he had Newspaper which he had in his hand, nearly sunk into despair. Goldsmith, he adds-"Come, I will read you availing himself of poor William's your letter just as I find it here:" condition, took upon himself to imi- when he read aloud the several words tate a bad hand, and to indite a letter, of which the letter was composed which for sentiment and expression with a steady countenance, and withmight be taken for a real epistle out out the least faultering or hesitation. of Yorkshire. This being done with William was thunderstruck; became exactness, (for the lady who told me very angry, and exclaimed-" You the anecdote saw it before it was sent) use me very ill, Mr. Goldsmith; you Goldsmith gave if to one of the young have opened my letter." Upon this gentlemen, with the request that he Goldsmith immediately unmarvelled would deliver it next morning imme- the difficulty, by telling him that he diately after the postman had called at himself had the preceding evening the house. The young gentlemen written the letter; and thus made were in the habit of running towards poor William believe that it was his the door whenever the postman made wisest way never to expect any epistle his appearance; of course one of the from his dulcinea, who had entirely group returned from the door with forsaken him, and ought not therethis said letter, gave it directly to fore to be suffered for the time to William, who snatching it with eager- come to disturb his repose! ness, thrust it into his bosom, and These, Sir, are the two anecdotes withdrew to make himself acquainted of the humour and cheerfulness of with the contents. The substance of Goldsmith, which I lately received the epistle was, that she had for various from Miss Milner, when drinking tea reasons delayed writing, but had to with her, and which I wrote down inform him that a young man, by immediately on my return home.-trade a glass-grinder, had paid his ad- However trivial they may be, there dresses to her; that she had not given are some young persons to whom him much encouragement, though they may prove acceptable. They are her relations were for the match; naturally inquisitive respecting every that she however often thought of particular in the history of a man to William, and he was not long out of whom they are much indebted: for her mind, for she did not forget the the perusal of his "Grecian and pleasant moments they had passed Roman Histories," of his " Animated together on former occasions. She Nature," of his "Chinese Letters," concluded by saying "that some- and of his exquisite "Poems," must thing must be now done one way or have contributed in no small degree another." This gratified William, to their intellectual improvement. though not without a mixture of the I am, Sir, Your's, painful passion of jealousy, which, JOHN EVANS. however, was not so great as to de- Pullin's-Row, Islington, stroy the pleasure arising from this April 4, 1898.
STRICTURES on Mr. BREWER'S VIN-
CORRESPONDENT in your last Number, who signs himself J. A. Breuer, has atteinpted to shew the superiority of the modern Dramatic Writers over the ancient ones. His letter is well written; but I do not envy him that perversion of judgment which can suffer him to attempt elevating the flippant inanity of Morton, Reynolds, Dibdin, Cherry, and a whole legion of similar writers, over the humour, wit, satire, ele, gance, and genius of Congreve, Wycherley, Farquhar, Beaumont and Fletcher, Ben Jonson, Massinger, &c. Mr. Brewer considers the subject in a moral point of view, and seems to think that because our moderu plays contain less indecency, they are there, fore more excellent. This is rather a curious mode of argumentation, and seems to me to be entitled to the same
confidence as the assertion of a pro
Shakspeare has truly observed, that "there never was yet a philosopher who could bear the tooth-ache patiently,” Pain o'ermasters us all; and the stoic philosopher himself was forced to confess in a fit of the gout, that it was not ima. ginary. Some new theories as to the mode of curing this painful disease hacing been lately broached, we have been induced to publish the following success. ful application of remedies, and shall only observe that the gentleman may known on application to our publisher.
SATURDAY, March 26, 1806
Early in the morning felt the attack: endeavoured to remove the enemy (as had been done before) by walking for some hours, but without success.
titute would be who a handkerchief across her naked bosom, and then proclaims her virtue. The increasing refinement of the age produced the negative merit of decorous language; and though we Sunday.-Got firm possession of tolerate rank licentiousness in the the left foot; tried to dislodge it by plays of Congreve and others, yet the following mode:- At eleven were a living dramatist to attempt to o'clock (there being much pain but introduce a single expression that no swelling) suspended the leg over a grossly militated against decency, tub, and commenced pouring cold his piece would be hooted off the pump water down it, so as to run off stage. There can be little doubt that at the extremities of the toes; exMessrs. Dibdin and Co. who write hausted a pailful of water in this way, nonsense to please the age, would and then desisted. Walked afterwrite bawdry to please it, if the age wards about the house, which brought would tolerate it. Their merit, there- on inward pain and swelling. Re fore, is the merit of necessity, and not peated this four times in the course of of choice; and being such, the com- the day. In the evening, swelled to mendation, if any, must be due to the utmost, and so much pain as to the public. prevent rest that night.
If, then, the merit of morality is Monday. This day the fit was at not strictly due to modern dramatic its height. In the evening (dreading authors, (and it is not, for they write the want of rest) ordered a poultice for gain, and gain is the result of to the foot: in the course of two success, and success would not follow hours after, being in bed, felt ease, new-coined indecency); I hope Mr. got some sleep; and in the morning Brewer will not venture to assert that they equal the old school in wit, humour, or genius; or that the single merit of being less indecorous is sufficient to counterbalance vulgarity of language, inanity of idea, and absurdity of plot; if a fact were needed,
was glad to acknowledge having re ceived very considerable relief, though the gouty pains had fled from the left foot to the right foot.
Tuesday.-Tolerably easy all this day; the attack on the right foot was somewhat violent. Took a dose of
salts. In the evening applied a poul- moved, placed poultices in their stead. tice to the right foot; partook of mid- Took salts. dling rest.
Friday-Renewed the poultices.
Wednesday-This day the gouty Free from gouty pains. pains were greatly removed, though much swelling remained. At three o'clock in the afternoon placed a blister on the inside of each leg, precisely took salts. above the ankle-bone. In the night Monday-Perceiving a little gouty considerable pain from the drawing. symptoms in the great toes, applied a Thursday.This morning, on ex- poultice to each of them; after which amining the blister, the left leg pro- left off any further applications either duced no head, but was humid. The internally or externally, nothing of right leg had a head of the size of a the gout remaining except a little large marble, which, on being cut, swelling, (the effect of weakness) but yielded a clear, yellowish, very cold, not any pain. thin water. The blisters being re
Saturday. The same. Took salts. Sunday-Omitted the poultices to try the effect of their omission, but
"Nulli negabimus, nulli differemus justitiam."
The NEW SANHEDRIN, and Causes religion were not the whole, but only and Consequences of the French a part of Antichrist. In ascertaining Emperor's Conduct towards the this important object, instead of en Jews. With Considerations on deavouring to discover the first the Question, Whether there is any source, and the original promoters of thing in the Prophetic Records that this interest, he endeavours to disting seems to point particularly to Eng- guish its last patrons and protectors, at the head of a politico-religious HIS is a political work with a combination of kings, who were to religious title. Under this ap- be successively ruined by their fruitpearance, which excites some expec- less opposition to a revolution or tancy of a partiality for vulgar predic-earthquake, such as never was betions, we are insensibly Ted into a fore since men were upon the earth, train of moral and philosophical de- so mighty and so great."
ductions. The author seems to have The calling of the Jews he treats adopted, as models, the learned Jo- only as a part of that universal liberty seph Mede, Bishop Butler in his and toleration, which was to be pecu Analogy," and Bishop Hurd in his liar to the new age, called in the promanner of applying scriptural meta- phetic scriptures, "the new heavens phors. Hence, with the latter, he and the new earth." Several theolo does not see any necessity for the se- gical opinions are here set in a new cond coming of Christ, even as the point of view. But though the argu Jewish Messiah, otherwise than in mentative part is strictly original, yet the acts of God's power and provi- the translation of the documents fre dence. He expects the moral and quently indicates haste, from a want political restoration of the Jews, and of accuracy in dates and names. universal peace among Christians, ge- The present work must not be connerally called "the Millenium," founded with "Transactions of the from the interference, under provi- Parisian Sanhedrin," noticed in page dence, of some powerful agent, such 131 of our last volume, and the title as Cyrus, &c. His system, therefore, of which contains a fallacy; for, intends rather to literalize than spiri- stead of giving the decisions of that tualize the prophecies. He seems to Sanhedrin, &c. such as they appear think, that if the predictions of a tem- in the work before us, it concludes, poral Messiah were not made for these with the breaking up of the assembly times, these times were made for of deputies, some time before the them. He makes it evident, that Sanhedrin had been convened. The Rome and the corrupted Catholic author of this work has not hastily UNIVERSAL MAG. VOL. IX.
adopted his opinions; and though his speculations may not be agreeable to the partisans of the new morality and the advocates for eternal war, they are still worthy of attention; and, as containing a new mode of explaining the prophetic symbols, it is not strange that it should have called forth an answer from the Jews themselves: the more remarkable, as, except the present instance, Dr. Priestley has been the only Christian writer of late years whom the Jews have thought worthy of reply or notice.
The WARRIOR'S RETURN, and other
Might both then, alas! be no more.
Mrs. Opie has a great deal of turgidity and inversion in her style. She seems not to be aware that the most natural mode of expression is the nearest to poetry, and that the latter differs from prose more in an harmonious collocation of the words. than in an unnatural disposition of them. It is not easy to conceive any thing more pompously obscure than the following:
But should he not live!-To escape from
He eagerly spurr'd his bold steed:
Forbade on the way to proceed.
On Julia's softly dimpled cheek,
Fame as a mischievous deity, (Æneid Iv.) and it may truly be said that it operates as such towards living authors. It is indeed peculiarly unfortunate, when a writer attains celebrity by a first production, for it rarely happens that any subsequent ones are judged with candour. They are no longer estimated intrinsically, but by the standard of their predecessor: and it is not enough that they equal their The "Song," at p. 51, has a line elder brother, they must absolutely in it that is irresistibly ludicrous: surpass him, or we are not con- am wearing away like the snow in the tented.
When proudly stern, her father bade
St. Claire's dark walls her bloom enclose.
Somewhat in this predicament weIt reminds us of the preposterous conceive Mrs. Opie to stand. Her and absurd similies which modern novels procured her some sort of re- dramatists put into the mouths of putation, and her first poetical publi- stage Irishmen. Mrs. Opie, howcation added to it. But we do not ever, meant to be serious. think that the present volume will
As a favourable specimen, we sehave that effect; for, though contain- lect the following:ing some pretty pieces, it seems to
consist of the refuse of her writing Go, distant shores and brighter conquests desk, collected together simply for seek,
the purpose of making a volume. We But my affection will your scorn survive! are justified in this supposition by the For not from radiant eyes or crimson cheek declaration of Mrs. Opie herself, who My fondness I, or you your power derive;says in her preface, that "the poems Nor sprung the passion from your fancied which compose this little volume, love:
were written, with two or three ex- To me, your smiles no dear delusion caused; ceptions, several years ago; and to I saw you tower my humble hopes above, arrange and fit them for publication And, ere 1 loved, I shuddered, trembled, has been the amusement of maný hours of retirement."
But I was formed to prize superior worth, The first poem, and which gives Aud felt 'twas virtue you, with love, to see; the title to the volume, is founded I hoped a choice so glorious might call
upon a sufficiently interesting cir- Merit like yours, Lorenzo, e'en in me — cumstance; but many of the stan- Then go, assured that mine's no transient zas are exceptionable. The caco- Aame,
phony of the last line in the follow. For on your worth it feeds, and lives upon ing is remarkable:
Mrs. Opie seems to have felt the power of love, and of hopeless love: and as the language of nature soars infinitely beyond that of art, so the amatory verses of the present volume are the best. The various pieces addressed to "Henry," which paint in delicate colours the feelings of unrewarded passion, are written with all the peculiar merit of Mrs. Opie's manner. The following is one of them:
LOVE ELEGY TO HENRY.
Then thou hast learnt the secret of my soul,
The faded form that tells my tender pain
Artless as thine, my too too feeling heart
But I true Passion's soft commands obey, And fain my tender feelings would conceal. In others' eyes, when fixed on thine, I see That fondness painted which alone I know; Think not, my Henry, then can love like More love I hide than they can e'er bestow.
While tender glances their emotions speak, And oft they heave and oft suppress the sigh;
O turn to me, behold my pallid cheek Shrinking from thine, behold my downcast
Vainly would others more than Emma shine; Beyond their sweetest strains thy heart would prize 2
One faint, one broken, tender tone of mine,
But far more blest to feel life's powers decay.
The remaining pieces in this volume do not rise above mediocrity: they are merely nugæ canora.
The LAST YEARS of the REIGN and LIFE of LOUIS XVI. By FRANCIS HUE, one of the Officers of the King's Chamber, named by that Monarch, after the 10th of August, 1792, to the honour of continuing with him and the Royal Family. Translated by R. C. DALLAS, Esq. HE
misfortunes of the great ne
be that there is a natural pleasure ver cease to interest; whether it which we take in beholding our fellow creatures under afiliction, when not allied to us by the ties of consanguinity or feeling; or that the sort of pleasure which arises from the contemplation of fallen grandeur, is of that tender yet consolatory cast that it seems to indemnify us for the evils of our own station in society. The mind is never wearied with reading accounts of the sufferings of Lady Jane Grey, of Mary Queen of Scots, exhaustible themes of eloquence for of Charles, or of Louis: they are inthe historian, of admonition for the moralist, of application for the poet. Their sufferings have been, in themselves, small, very small, compared to those of private individuals: but it is comparison that aids our sympathy, and we do not sigh over the sorrows of the man, but of the prince. Phi losophy would behold nothing peculiarly acute in a human being repos