respect for the penetration and sagacity of their author. Even as to style and diction, while we lament both the poverty and the constraint of which we have been compelled to take notice, it is but fair to say, that Miss Baillie appears to us to have good taste enough to keep her eye pretty constantly on the best models; and that even her poverty has not been able to seduce her into those flowery paths, where the poorest, if they are regardless of purity, may, with small labour, become as rich, or at least as gaudy, as their neighbours. Finally, we think Miss Baillie entitled to very high and unmingled praise, for the beauty of many detached passages in every one of her metrical compositions ;-passages that possess many of the higher qualities of fine and original poetry; and which, if they were only a little longer, and a little more numerous, would entitle her to take her place on a level with the most distinguished names that have illustrated this age of poetry. Few and far between as they are, they are decisive, we think, of her genius and capacity; and though we do not think they are in danger of being lost and forgotten amidst the mass of baser matter with which they are now surrounded, they make it a duty in all who are aware of their value, to unite their efforts both for their rescue and their multiplication.

JAMES GRAHAME.*

We have no great predilection, we must say, for didactic poetry of any sort,—at least, where it corresponds with its title, and really aims at teaching; and though there are several pieces that have obtained much merited celebrity under that title, we suspect that it has been earned by the passages to which it was least applicable. Some have pleased by the liveliness and beauty of the descriptions which they contained; others by the exquisite polish and elegance of the composition; and the greater part, perhaps, by their episodes and digressions. Who reads the precepts of Hesiod, or the arguments of Lucretius?—or even the maxims about sowing and reaping in Virgil, or the theory of laughter and of general ideas in Akenside?

The poem before us, we fear, will not take away this reproach of the didactic Muse; and may, indeed, be divided, more certainly and commodiously than most of its family, into the two great compartments of the legible and the illegible. The agricultural precepts, which are as dull and prosaic as any precepts we ever met with, fortunately are not very intimately mixed up with the descriptive and poetical passages; and those, which are often of great beauty and pathos, are generally so detached and complete in themselves, that they might have stood as well in any other work which treated of rural life and rural scenery; and may be perfectly relished and understood by those who are wicked enough to skip over all the agricultural learning of the volume.

Though "Georgics" may be, as Mr. Grahame assures us, the proper appellation for all treatises of husbandry in verse, the "Scottish Farmer's Kalendar" would have been a title more descriptive of the plan and substance of the work before us. Not only is the whole scenery borrowed

* Grahame's British Georgics.—Vol. xvi. p. 213. April, 1810

from this end of the island, but the poem is divided into twelve parts or sections, arranged in the order, and under the names of the twelve months of the year, and containing full directions for all farm-work proper to each month respectively, as well as some fine descriptions of the successive appearances of the country, and the condition of its inhabitants; together with many little episodes and reflections arising out of these considerations.

In thus putting the whole year into blank verse, it was evidently next to impossible to avoid clashing with the author of the Seasons ;-and those, accordingly, who are jealous of Thomson's original invention, will find frequent occasion to complain of the author before us. At the same time, there are many points in which we think his merits must be admitted by all lovers of poetry, and his originality confessed by the warmest admirers of Thomson. The singular fidelity and clearness of his descriptions, prove him to have studied all his pictures for himself, in nature;-a certain simplicity of thought, and softness of heart, give a peculiar character to his manner, that excludes all idea of imitation; and his fine and discriminating pictures of the Scottish landscape, and the Scottish peasantry, are as new in their subject, as they are excellent in the execution.

There is something irresistibly pleasing in the faithful representation of external nature, even in her simplest and most ordinary aspects. All men have interesting associations with dawnings and sunsets :-and the returns of summer and winter, as they indicate themselves upon the woods and waters, the mountains and fields of our home scenery, recall to every bosom a thousand impressions, more deep and touching than can usually be excited by objects far more new and extraordinary. A lively picture of nature, therefore, pleases everybody-and is the only thing, perhaps, that does so. Nor are we very apt, while we feel indebted to the artist for a clear and striking conception, to blame him for having painted what is common, or even what had been often painted before. If a descriptive poet makes us feel distinctly that he is copying nature, and not from his predecessors, we excuse a good deal of coincidence, and really receive a new impression from a new portrait of the same grand original.

Mr. Grahame's descriptions appear to us to be remarkable for their great fidelity, minuteness, and brevity,—for the singular simplicity and directness with which they are brought out,-and for a kind of artless earnestness in the manner of their execution, which shows the author to have been entirely occupied with the care of rendering faithfully and exactly what was present to his eye or his memory. There is no ambition to be fine or striking, and no great concern, apparently, about the distant effect or ideal perfection of his landscape,—but an honest determination and endeavour to give his readers precisely what was before him,—and to communicate faithfully to them what had actually made an impression on himself. In this way, he seldom thinks it necessary to call in the aid of exaggeration, or to invent any picturesque or extraordinary circumstances to bespeak an interest for his delineations; but presents his scenes successively in all their native plainness and simplicity,—noting down all the features that really occur in them, without concerning himself whether other poets have represented them or not,—and stopping when these are exhausted, however abrupt or imperfect the composition may consequently appear. The effect of this plan of writing is, that his descriptions are almost always strong and impressive, and present the most distinct and vivid images to the fancy; although they are not often heightened by any great glow of genius or animation, and are

frequently broken and irregular, or deficient in that keeping which may be found in the works of those who write more from the love of the art than of the subject.

The great charm, however, of Mr. Grahame's poetry, appears to us to consist in its moral character,—in that natural expression of kindness and tenderness of heart, which gives such a peculiar air of paternal goodness and patriarchal simplicity to his writings,-and that earnest and intimate sympathy with the objects of his compassion, which assures us at once that he is not making a theatrical display of sensibility, but merely giving vent to the familiar sentiments of his bosom. We can trace here, in short, and with the same pleasing effect, that entire absence of art, effort, and affectation, which we have already noticed as the most remarkable distinction of his attempts in description. Almost all the other poets with whom we are acquainted, appear but too obviously to put their feelings and affections, as well as their fancies and phrases, into a sort of studied dress, before they venture to present them to the crowded assembly of the public : and though the style and fashion of this dress varies according to the taste and ability of the inventors, still it serves almost equally to hide their native proportions, and to prove that they were a little ashamed or afraid to exhibit them as they really were. The greater part of those who have aimed at producing a pathetic effect, have attempted to raise and exalt both the characters of their personages and the language in which they are spoken of ; and thus to seek an excuse, as it were, for their sensibility in the illusions of vulgar admiration; others have aggravated the distresses with strange and incredible complications,-that it might appear that they did not disturb themselves on light and ordinary grounds: and some few have dressed out both themselves and their heroes in such a tissue of whimsical and capricious affectations, that they are still less in danger than their neighbours of being suspected of indulging in the vulgar sympathies of our nature. Now, Mr. Grahame, we think, has got over this general nervousness and shyness about showing the natural and simple feelings with which the contemplation of human emotion should affect us-or rather, has been too seriously occupied, and too constantly engrossed, with the feelings themselves, to think how the confession of them might be taken by the generality of his readers, to concern himself about the contempt of the fastidious, or the derision of the unfeeling. In his poetry, therefore, we meet neither with the Musidoras and Damons of Thomson, nor the gipsy-women and Ellen Orfords of Crabbe; and still less with the Matthew Schoolmasters, Alice Fells, or Martha Raes of Mr. Wordsworth ;—but we meet with the ordinary peasants of Scotland in their ordinary situations, and with a touching and simple expression of concern for their sufferings, and of generous indulgence for their faults. He is not ashamed of his kindness and condescension, on the one hand; nor is he ostentatious or vain of it, on the other-but gives expression in the most plain and unaffected manner to sentiments that are neither counterfeited nor disguised. We do not know any poetry, indeed, that lets us in so directly to the heart of the writer, and produces so full and pleasing a conviction that it is dictated by the genuine feelings which it aims at communicating to the reader. If there be less fire and elevation than in the strains of some of his contemporaries, there is more truth and lenderness than is commonly found along with those qualities, and less getting up either of language or of sentiment than we recollect to have met with in any modern composition.

VOL. II.

The last peculiarity by which Mr. Grahame's poetry is recommended to us, is one which we hesitate a little about naming to our English readers:to be candid with them, however, it is his great nationality. We do love him in our hearts, we are afraid, for speaking so affectionately of Scotland. But, independent of this partial bias, we must say, that the exquisitely correct pictures which he has drawn of Scottish rustics, and of Scottish rural scenery, have a merit, which even English critics would not think we had overrated if they were as well qualified as we are to judge of their fidelity. We will add, too, in spite of the imputations to which it may expose us, that the rustics of Scotland are a far more interesting race, and far fitter subjects for poetry, than their brethren of the same condition in the South. They are much more thoughtful, pious, and intelligent-have more delicacy in their affections, and more reflecting, patient, and serious kindness in their natures. To say all in a word, they are far less brutish than the great body of the English peasantry. At the same time, from being poorer and more lonely, their characters and way of life are more truly simple, while the very want of comfort and accommodation with which they are sometimes surrounded, holds more of the antique age, and connects them more closely with those primitive times, with the customs and even the history of which they are still so generally familiar. The Scottish landscape, too, we must be pardoned for thinking, is better suited for poetical purposes than the prevailing scenery of England. Its great extent and openness-the slight shade of dreariness that is commonly thrown over both its beauty and its sublimity -and the air of wildness and antiquity which it derives from its rocky hills and unploughed valleys,-possess a charm, both to the natives and to strangers, that leads far more readily to poetical associations than the fertile fields and snug villages of the South.

DELILLE.*

It is now upwards of twenty years since the poem of "Les Jardins" began to be read out of France; and, in the course of that time, it has been translated into almost all the languages of Europe, and been made the subject of criticism and imitation from Warsaw to Naples. A reputation that prevails so universally, and is retained so long, must necessarily be merited; and it would not only be presumptuous, but absurd, to call in question the reality of those excellences, to which the whole European world has borne so unequivocal a testimony. We may be permitted, however, to enquire a little into the peculiar nature of those merits which have met with so general approbation; and to consider whether they are not attended with any characteristic defects.

It probably will not appear very flattering to a French writer, or to his French admirers, to say, that Delille has extended his reputation, chiefly by abandoning his national peculiarities, and added materially to the beauty of his compositions, by accommodating them to the taste of his neighbours Yet such, it appears to us, is undoubtedly the case with M. Delille. He has recommended his works to general perusal, by departing, in a good

* Le Malheur et la Pitié: Poème en Quatre Chants.-Vol. iii. p. 26. October, 1803.

measure, from the common poetical style of his countrymen; by adopting, freely, the beauties of the surrounding countries, and forming himself upon the model of all that appeared to him to be excellent in the poetry of modern Europe. French poetry, we are inclined to suspect, never had any very sincere admirers out of France. The general diffusion of the language of that people, the excellence of many of their writings, and their early proficiency in criticism and the belles lettres, had indeed given a certain currency to most of their domestic favourites, and spread into the circulation of Europe, whatever had received the stamp of Parisian approbation. But their reception was more owing to the authority by which they were recommended, than to their own powers of universal fascination. Men wished to admire the poems of those whose prose was in general so delightful; and seldom had courage to set up their own judgment in opposition to the sentence of a tribunal that was, for the most part, so enlightened. French poetry was read, therefore, and applauded over all Europe, without being sincerely admired. Some pretended to be enchanted with it, and others imagined that they were so; while all the men of letters spoke of it with deference, and condemned, without mercy, all that resembled it in the productions of their own countrymen. Although a poet who had obtained reputation in France was not sure, therefore, of pleasing all the rest of Europe, he came before his foreign readers with very considerable advantages. He was certain of being patiently and favourably listened to, and might assure himself, that many would applaud, and that the greater part would be willing to admire. As soon, therefore, as a French poet appeared, who was willing to lay aside the gaudy costume of his country, and to accommodate himself to the taste of the other European nations, it was to be expected that his popularity would be at least equal to his merits. It was reserved for M. Delille to make this experiment; and we are really persuaded that a very great share of his reputation is to be ascribed to its

success.

It is chiefly from the modern poets of England, that M. Delille has borrowed the peculiarities of his manner. Besides the obvious and avowed imitations of Pope, Addison, Goldsmith, Cowper, and Darwin, that occur in the present publication, there is something in the whole temper and complexion of his compositions, that certainly does not belong to the genuine school of French poetry. The prose of Rousseau and of Florian may have afforded some instances of it: but if it had a poetical origin, it must have been borrowed from the poetry of England. The great vice of the French poets was an affected magnificence of diction, and elevation of sentiment, that admitted of no relaxation, and precluded, in a great degree, all that was interesting or natural. The charm of easy and powerful expression was generally sacrificed to the support of a certain sonorous and empty dignity; the picturesque effect of individual description was lost in cold generalities; character was effaced, by the prevalence of one glittering uniform; and high-sounding sentiments were substituted for the language of nature and of passion. In this way, almost all the serious poetry of France had come to resemble the declamation of a hired pleader, in which no imitation of nature was so much as attempted; but all kinds of reflections and antitheses were thrown together in a style of affected passion and false elevation. Every English reader, we apprehend, must have felt how little painting there is in the poetry of France, and how much more it deals in thoughts than in images. It is full of reasoning and ingenuity, and abounds in all the