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fear he is by nature, cold-of a temperament, the reverse of erotic. We detect in him none of those ungovernable bursts of animal passion, nothing of that warmth of colouring which glows in the descriptions of Smollet, and nothing of that mingled expression of sentiment and sensuality, which gives piquancy to the pages of Richardson and Fielding. It is admitting too
much to suppose, that such a temperament could be restrained throughout one hundred and ninety volumes! (for such is the wonderful extent of one author's labours.) It must infallibly have peeped forth at some unguarded moment, some flash of the pent up fire must have betrayed its existence, instead of which we find a settled decorum, invaded at most by some sly jest, so faintly seasoned withal, as scarcely to summon the blood into the cheek of Prudery herself.
Shakspeare is unquestionably indebted for many of his highest excellencies, to the ardent temperament he recived from nature. He was endowed with a most exquisite sensibility to female loveliness. His imagination threw a halo of unearthly glory over the lineaments of beauty! He was capable of feeling the passion of love in all its tenderness-in all its intensity-in all its madness! It was by painting truly, what he so strongly felt, tempering the feeling, and adapting it to the characters he drew; that he has succeeded in furnishing such varied and exquisite portraitures of the tender passion! It is surprising to notice, how many of his most brilliant efforts, have been inspired by what we may term, the animal propensities of his character. But from this exuberance, have sprung weeds as well as flowers, for hence it is, that his works are polluted by so many gross and obscene images-images that had doubtless been softened or purified, if our author had lived in an age so severely chaste as the present. But though these gross images, and wanton descriptions, which delighted, we are told, both maid and matron, in the days of the Virgin Queen, would scarcely be tolerated now either in England or in this country, (where with pride we speak it, the standard of female purity has ever been exalted,) the reason is to be found not in any fundamental change in human nature, but simply in the change of manners. Women we apprehend, will never object to what is ardent in passion, provided it be modest in expression. So long as they are found to prize beauty, (and when will they not) so long will they appreciate, and be indulgent to that feeling in man's nature, which constitutes that beauty, the wand of empire! We cannot more aptly illustrate our meaning, than by alluding to a well authenticated incident in the life of Richardson. Our readers, of course, are familiar with the character of Lovelace in "Clarissa."
Libertine as he had been painted, the deliberate, unscrupulous betrayer of female innocence, yet were the gentle hearts of the ladies, to whom the author imparted the outlines of his yet unfinished plan, so moved in behalf of one, whose crimes sprung from too great a devotion to their charms, that they besought him to reform Lovelace, instead of killing him: and on his refusal to depart from the noble plan which he had devised, they importuned him in the excess of their tenderness" at least to save his soul!" The story is familiar to Sir Walter, but he has carefully avoided all embarrassments of this nature. Certainly we know of no author of distinction, in his class, whose works contain so little that he should regret or desire to erase-whose page, rich as it is in generous and noble sentiments, and fraught with lessons of wisdom, is at the same time so conspicuous for purity. But we think he has failed, as we have already remarked, in the delineation of female character, in the expression of the softer emotions, and especially, of that of love, let him write an impassioned tale of love-impassioned, not licentious-(Dryden or Goethe were not cold at his age,) let him achieve this last triumph, and the world will believe that he has forborne, not from inaptitude for such efforts, not from frigidity of temperament, but from a consciousness, how narrow were the boundaries that separate the impassioned from the seductive, and from the hallowed feeling, rather to leave his triumph incomplete, than secure it at the expense, or even at the imminent risk of morality!!
The success of Richardson in striking out a new style of novel, awakened the emulation of other men of genius, whose powers, without such impulse, had, probably, received a different direction; and Pamela may, in some sense, be styled the mother of Tom Jones and Roderick Random, though, as in other cases, but little family resemblance may exist to bespeak the relationship. The splendid success of the Waverly Novels, has given a like impulse to the public mind-and the historical novel, the novel illustrative of character and manner, has become the fashion of the day, and attracted to its service the powers of more than one man of decided talent. Among the most conspicuous of these, is our countryman Cooper, and the author of "Pelham," the "Disowned," and "Devereux." Imitators they undoubtedly are, yet not servile copyists. But talented as they are, we think the friends of these new candidates for popular favour, give no indication of superior sagacity, when they attempt to exalt them to the elevation of Scott. If they have their niche in the temple, they will figure there but as ordinary statues, compared with the "Jupiter Olympus" of novelists! It may
minister to the diseased and unappeaseable appetite of literary vanity-it may comport with the craft of booksellers, who would hazard bolder comparisons were they needed, to puff off a lingering edition; but it can never serve the true interests of these talented writers, to draw them into a comparison wherein they must inevitably be sufferers. Cooper enjoys the advantage of a field almost untrodden. The manners and habits of the aboriginal tribes and of those whites-the pioneers of civilization— who, presing forward as the others recede, plant their feet in the yet warm foot-prints of the retreating Indian; the striking, grand or picturesque features of unexplored and uurifled scenery, are so many mines of literary treasure, to which he has enjoyed peculiar access, and which he has wrought with the skill of a master. The ocean too, he has appropriated with a power and felicity equal to Smollet. In framing his story from such materials, he seems to us, in the invention of incident, to be fully equal to Scott. At the same time, it is but candour to admit that character, not incident, has been the chief aim of Scott. Be that as it may, he who will follow Cooper through one of his Indian adventures, will find himself constantly gratified by new and unexpected turns of the story. The personages in whose behalf the sympathy of the reader is enlisted, are no sooner rescued from one difficulty than they encounter another-danger presses on danger, and relief follows relief so unexpectedly, yet so naturally, that we soon yield to the conviction, that the resources of the author are, in respect to incident, inexhaustible. If we follow him to the field of battle, we find him animated, graphic, full of resources, and abounding in wellimagined and characteristic incident. If we follow him 'to the council-fires of his warriors, we feel that he is eloquent, and knows the rare art to make them talk like chiefs and heroes, after having painted them such in action. We know of no such noble pictures of Indian nature, as those which he has sketched; and we shall briefly add, that in describing the stirring incidents of nautical life-the storm-the calm-the battle-and the peculiarities of the sea-faring character-the same high praise is due to him. Within this circle lie his powers of dramatising, his efforts to pass it, have been mere abortions. In scenes of ordinary polite life, his ladies are but tame, spiritless and uninteresting creations; and his gentlemen altogether worthy to be the companions of such mistresses. The good opinion which the author may have bespoken for them, can scarcely survive the shock of the first dialogue. There is nothing easy and natural in their thoughts, and the writer wants the power which, in Scott, extends throughout the whole circle-at least
of his masculine creations-of completely identifying himself with his characters. It is in this want of dramatic talent, in his want of humour, and his comparative deficiency in general knowledge, that the inferiority of Cooper chiefly lies. The fund of historical and antiquarian lore possessed by Scott, is, indeed, no easy or ordinary acquisition.
The author of "Pelham," while he dramatises like Scott the distinguished characters of another day, has thrown more of love and passion into his story. He is, evidently, a man of a warm temperament, who feels keenly, and, consequently, expresses himself in those ardentia verba that belong to true passion. In his conception of female character, we bold him altogther superior to Scott or Cooper. He is a vigorous thinker, and his style is terse and pointed. His classical allusions may be overstrained, but his keen and brilliant wit sits gracefully upon him, and flashes forth at every page. His dullest passages are those wherein he meditates wit-wherein he is witty of malice aforethought—as for example, at his meeting of wits at Wills', in his new novel "Devereux." Except the introductory hit of Steele, there is very little said that deserves to be repeated; and we have this general objection to urge against his wits, that they are all witty in the same style-so that the bonmot of one may be applied, without violation of any characteristic manner, to any other of the group. He wields the weapons of sarcasm and irony, with a terrible energy; and is destined to reach a literary elevation, far higher than any he has yet attained. With this commendation, we are compelled to mix our censure of the tone of morals pervading his first novel, “Pelham." It seemed to us indicative of their unhealthy state, that the exposure, however witty, of the follies and odious vices of the parents, should proceed from the mouth of a son. It seemed outrageous to us-yet, after all, this may be a cis-atlantic prejudice, and a proof that "society" in this country, has not yet received its ultimate polish!
But à pròpòs of Anne of Geierstein. We return to the work before us, to remark on two instances of our author's forgetfulThe first is, that he has forgotten to explain the import of the legend connected with the bending of the bow of Buttescholtz-an omission, that maidens of a certain age will not lightly excuse the other is, that he supposes the Duke of Burgundy profoundly ignorant of a fact that nearly concerned him, and which, it appears, from the night scene at the German inn, was known to all the world besides-viz. that Count Albert of Geierstien, or the Black Priest of St. Paul's, was a chief of the Secret Tribunal!
THE SOUTHERN REVIEW.
Abernethy, Dr. his opinion of the cause
of the prevailing maladies of the hu-
Addison, his Spectator, the origin of the
Amherst, Lord, his Embassy to China, re-
Anales de Ciencias, Agricultura, &c., re-
Anne of Geierstein, reviewed, 499-on
Artists, of America, are becoming sensi-
Barrow,Dr. his Travels in China referred
Brande, M., his Table of the relative
Candolle, Aug. Pyramo de, his Prodo-