great; but for us journalists of the higher order, who do not " give up to a party what was meant for mankind," and whose grasp extends to nothing less than the "omne scibile," the task is by no means of such easy execution. We who count upon readers of all classes and denominations, whose dealings lie with the public in the uttermost latitude of the term, and who do not cater for the exclusive tastes of any one faction, have not only a wider range of opinion to traverse, but a much nicer discretion to exercise, in avoiding offence to any. The editor of an orthodox review has nothing to do but to hunt down " religions without churches and churches without religion," and he is sure of his market. Your evangelical writer has only to deal damnation with an even hand on all sides ;- "who peppers the highest is surest to please." The path of the John Bull and the Age, is still narrower; and, once entered, it is impossible to lose the track. But the writer who addresses all readers, must consult all tastes. He must not be too whiggish for his Tory customers, nor too toryish for his Whigs. He must be political, without being factious; and (harder still) he must be religious, without being sectarian. There are hundreds of subjects of which he must avoid all mention, and thousands over which he must pass. Now this is harder work in England, than anywhere else. On the Continent, there are but two parties; and men must at once make up their mind between them: but England is the land of corporate bodies, of aggregate masses, none of which can be offended with impunity, by him who has in turn to deal with all. Therefore once again I say, good readers, gentle readers, most courteous readers of the New Monthly, let us be agreed together, and let us determine what shall be deemed orthodox, good taste, and good judgment; and what shall be bad taste, heterodox and a noli me tangere for the current year; or if that be too much, at least for the current volume. As far as any thing can be predicated of the present, by the most immediate past, I shall be inclined to say that it is loyal, and proper, and promotive of social order to affect a certain tone of liberality or rather of good fellowship in matters of politics; to give the ministers of the day credit for what they do, without casting too violently into their teeth reproaches for what they have left undone. It is fashionable for tories to be liberal in political economy, and for whigs to make large allowances for ministerial corruption. It is good taste to pity the Catholics, even though you vote against them; and a laugh may be indulged against Lord Eldon, without forfeiting your place in good company. Personality and invective are more sparingly employed, and are less generally admired than last year. "No popery," as some people imagine, is growing again into favour, and it certainly is possible for the advocates of Catholic emancipation to give it a helping hand, by pushing forward ultramontane pretensions, and advancing jesuitical doctrines; but if our judgment be not greatly deceived, the movement is, for the present, confined to a little knot of intriguing parsons, and self-important corporators; so that we shall not risk the loss of a single reader by our strenuous support of religious liberty. In matters of religion, the war against Sunday apple-stalls has still a certain general vogue, but the Bishop of Peterborough's additions to the thirty-nine articles are so far thought apocryphal, that it is not deemed absolute blasphemy to deny them. The tide of popularity has ceased to set strongly towards Hatton-garden; and strange to say, men seek for religion and morality in Broad-street, St. Giles. Mr. Martin's efforts to inoculate the lower classes with humanity are in general very commendable; but we have not heard that a single country squire has been sent to the tread-mill, for making game of God's creatures. Apropos of the tread-mill; that engine is still popularly believed to be a mild, efficacious, and equal instrument of punishment, and an admirable step to a gradual reformation of manners. Having long beards on a Sunday morning is decidedly a barberous deed;" but the taste is not the less universally in favour of pastrycooks' shops on that day; and Gunter is not a bit the more likely to be hot in the next world, for cooling the throats of his Sunday customers with pineapple ice in this. Tithe is beyond all question as good property as an estate, if not absolutely of divine right; but Archbishop Magee's opinions will not bear examination. The major part of the country villages are not in a state of absolute religious darkness; but the wild Irish ought to be forced to read the bible without note or comment, whether they can or no. As for Mechanics' Institutions, I am afraid you have not quite made up your mind, my readers, whether they are, or are not, a conspiracy against social order; but I don't think you will chip off a man's nose for advocating them, provided it be moderately and with good discretion. Mr. Kean may now be allowed to act in peace; more especially as the Americans have taken to quarrelling with his morality. Miss Foote has--a very pretty ancle. Washington Irvine is on a visit with his namesake. Cobbett is on the road to Coventry, or to Rome, "such fellows" (as Cowslip says) "will find room any where." Sir Harcourt Lees will not be made a Protestant bishop, nor Mr. O'Connell, Chief Justice of the King's Bench. The corn laws are not at all less popular with country squires than they were last year: I don't know how matters may be in Glasgow and Manchester. Forging bank-notes is a very capital offence; and so too is stealing apples from an orchard. How is our mother Eve to be eradicated from fourth-form boys? why, by fine and imprisonment. Fine talking this; but it is law not the less; ay marry, Crowner's quest law."There are positively no abuses whatever in the Court of Chancery. Paris has by many degrees fewer attractions than formerly, and a residence abroad is neither so respectable nor so economical as it was thought to be three or four years ago. The perfection of dramatic composition is a good pantomime, with horses and real water. Tragedy is a bore, and comedy not to be written. In music, Allah, illah, allah, there is no god but Rossini, and Pasta is his pròphet. The marriage of Unitarians in the name of the Holy Trinity is no mockery of sacred things, no violation of the liberty of conscience, and tends manifestly and directly to the support of church and state, and to promoting "glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will towards men:" esto perpelua! Walter Scott is the great unknown, Walter Scott is not the great unknown: it is beginning to pass current that the great unknown isa steam-engine. Country bank notes are not quite as good as sovereigns, and joint-stock companies are excellent sinking-funds for a floating capital. The Greeks don't care two straws for liberty, and the Turks are tolerably good Christians. 'Charley is my darling," is the darling of all good judges of music; "We are all noddin," does not 66 set people to sleep; and "Cherry ripe" is not the least upon the turn, There exists in the city of London a corporate body called the Royal Society of Literature, though, like Russell-square, after Hook's borrowed joke, it is not very generally known. It produces first-rate geniuses, and is of infinite utility to social order. It is not an engine of state quackery. We deem it still fashionable to talk of "the Arts" in England; and "portrait of a gentleman" passes current as synonymous for a picture. London has changed its mind, and is no longer going to York, having lately advanced two stages on the Bath road. Nothing East of the spot "where formerly stood Hyde Park turnpike-gate," to be longer construed as in London. Has the Opera House a wall to stand upon? amplius inquirendum. Mr. T. Moore is gone to Edinburgh to consult Sir W. Scott on his proposed Life of Lord Byron; and Sir W. will probably avail himself of the opportunity of consulting Mr. T. M. on his proposed Life of Napoleon. Mr. Canning is gone to consult the Emperor Alexander on his proposed bill for emancipating the Catholics. And Messrs. Campbell and Brougham have written to the College of the Propaganda on the foundation of the London University. Der Freischutz has shot his seventh bullet. Cambridge and Oxford are the only places of gentlemanly education, and Greek metres and nonsense verses often ably contribute to a knowledge of affairs and the formation of statesmen. All the world are agreed on the propriety of one half of the proposed plans for improving the metropolis-that which relates to pulling down the old houses. Roman cement is more durable and sightly than stone; and of all the orders of architecture, Nash's disorder is the most admirable "most admired disorder"-Shakspeare. The Roman Catholic religion is the best possible for the Continent, and the worst for Irishmen: yet it is better that the Irish should be Papists than Unitarians: ergo, Unitarians may sit in Parliament, and Catholics must be excluded. Some slight doubts are allowable on the policy of checking infidelity by persecution. A man who has spent his whole days and nights over law-books and briefs, is the best possible judge of life and philosophy; and a seat on the bench is an indisputable title to an intuitive knowledge of political economy, and the nature of things-vide Judge Best v. Harriet Wilson's printer. The people of England are the wisest and best of men; the most thinking and the most religious people in the world. The natives of the Continent are a set of fools, knaves, and atheists. London porter is as wholesome as it is palatable. The lord mayor is the greatest potentate in Europe. Lord Amherst is the greatest governor-general India ever saw. John Bull is the pink of courtesy and profundity; and the Scotch boroughs are models of popular election. These, I take it, are the most popular and prevalent opinions going. As many as are of this opinion will please to say "Aye;" those of a contrary opinion will say "No ;" and the Ayes have it. You may therefore conclude, gentle reader, that till further notice, these doctrines shall be cherished as orthodox and proper, and that nothing contrary to them shall knowingly find a place in any article which may hereafter appear in the New Monthly Magazine, bearing the signature of M. RECORDS OF WOMAN.- NO. V. The Switzer's Wife. Nor look nor tone revealeth aught Arria, by M. J. J. It was the time when children bound to meet In the Swiss valleys, and the Lakes grow still, And pierced its lattice through the vine-hung bower; For Werner sat beneath the linden-tree, That sent its lulling whispers through his door, With some deep care, and thus can find no more Rang from the greensward round the shelter'd spot, Her hand on his, and with a pleading look Through tears half quivering,-o'er him bent, and said, "What grief, dear friend, hath made thy heart its prey ↑ That thou shouldst turn thee from our love away? "It is too sad to see thee thus, my friend! Mark'st thou the wonder on thy boy's fair brow * Werner Stauffacher, one of the three confederates of the field of Grütli, had been alarmed by the envy with which the Austrian bailiff, Landenberg, had noticed the appearance of wealth and comfort which distinguished his dwelling. It was not, however, until roused by the entreaties of his wife, a woman who seems to have been of an heroic spirit, that he was induced to deliberate with his friends upon the measures by which Switzerland was finally delivered. + See the beautiful scene between Stauffacher and his wife in Schiller's Wilhelm Tell-" So ernst, mein freiund? Ich kenne dich nicht mehr," &c. Thou dost not kindly to withhold the share He look'd up into that sweet earnest face, Not yet unveil'd by Love's o'ermastering hand. "Speak low!" he cried, and pointed where on high The white Alps glitter'd through the solemn sky: "We must speak low amidst our ancient hills And their free torrents; for the days are come When Tyranny lies couch'd by forest-rills, And meets the shepherd in his mountain-home. Under my household-tree!-if not serene, Yet with the faces best-belov'd in sight; To-morrow eve may find me chain'd, and thee-How can I bear the boy's young smiles to see?" The bright blood left that youthful mother's cheekBack on the linden-stem she lean'd her form, And her lip trembled, as it strove to speak, Like a wild harp-string shaken by the storm. And she, that ever through her home had moved And timid in her happiness the while, As it found language:-" Are we thus oppress'd? And let thine eagle-glance my joy restore! The chamois-paths, and through the forests go! |