daring kind, which doubts and derides, or even questions, but which clings to the anchor of hope, and looks forward with faith and reverential fear. Mrs. Hemans has written much, and, as with all authors in like predicanent, her strains are of various degrees of excellence. Independently of this, her different works will be differently estimated, as to their relative.value, by different minds; but, among the lyrics of the English language which can scarcely die, we. hesitate not to assign places to The Hebrew Mother-The Treasures of the Deep-The Spirit's Return-The Homes of England-The Better Land-The Hour of Death-The Trumpet-and The Graves of a Household. In these " gems of purest ray serene," the peculiar genius of Mrs. Hemans breathes, and burns, and shines preeminent; for her forte lay in depicting whatever tends to beautify and embellish domestic life-the gentle overflowings of love and friendship" homebred delights and heartfelt happiness"-the associations of local attachment-and the influences of religious feelings over the soul, whether arising from the varied circumstances and situations of man, or from the aspects of external nature. We would only here add, by way of remark, that the writings of Mrs. Hemans seem to divide themselves into two pretty distinct portions-the first comprehending her Modern Greece, Wallace, Dartmoor, Sceptic, Historic Scenes, and other productions, up to the publication of the Forest Sanctuary; and the latter comprehending that volume, The Re cords of Woman, The Scenes and Hymns of Life, and all her subsequent productions. In her earlier works she follows the classic model as contradistinguished from the ro mantic, and they are inferior in that polish of style and almost gorgeous richness of language, in which her maturer compositions are set. It is evident that new stores of thought were latterly opened up to her, in a more extended acquaintance with the literature of Spain and Germany. Mrs. Heinans died in her forty-first year. She was born in Liverpool :-her father was a native of Ireland, and, by her mother, a German lady, she was descended from a Venetian family of rank. She married in early lifeunhappily;-and left five sons, more than one of whom are of high promise. She passed many years in the quiet seclusion of St. Asaph's in North Wales with her mother; three at Wavertree, near Liverpool, after the death of that revered parent; and thence she removed to Dublin, where so recently she breathed her last. LEWES CASTLE. (From a Sketch, by a Correspondent.) SUSSEX is thickly studded with fragments of antiquity, few of which are better known than the remains of the ancient castle at Lewes. Of the town, the earliest authentic records commence with the Roman sway, when Lewes is thought to have been the station Mutuantenis, or Mantuantonis, "a mutation or mansion situate by a water or river: so is Lewes situate."-Burrell MSS. The origin of the castle is said to have been a considerable time before the Conquest, and has been attributed to Alfred. Athel stan established two mints in Lewes, considered to be an indication of very great consequence at that period. At the era of Domesday, it had been made the chief seat and barony of the Earls de Warren, who possessed the whole rape; one of whom, in 1266, obtained a murage grant from Henry III. to fortify the town with the aid of several dues and customs. It had a market established soon after the Conquest, and a merchant guild, of great eminence; and a Cluniac Priory, founded at the conclusion of the thirteenth century, by the first Earl de Warren, and Gundreda, his wife, whose annual revenue, at the Dissolution, amounted to the clear sum of 920. It had formerly, includ. ing its suburbs of Cliffe, Westout, and Southover, thirteen churches, which are now reduced to six. The castle is chiefly remarkable for having had two keeps, raised on mounds, and inclosed within its walls: one at the western extremity remains tolerably perfect, and has a very commanding appearance, hanging, clothed with ivy, over the street of the town. Very little of the primitive architecture of the castle is, however, discernible; for the building has been rather modernized than restored in its repairs, which have been very liberal. A large square tower at the entrance, probably of the fourteenth or fifteenth century, with machicolations, is, probably, the most ornamental feature of the structure. The view from hence is very pleasing, and will repay the ascent.—Parry's Coast of Sussex. New Books. THE EMPRESS. A NOVEL. By G. Bennett, Esq., Author of the Albanians. [THE plot of this work embraces the most infamous period of the renowned, but cruel and licentious Agrippina the younger, after she had married her uncle Claudius, and accordingly become" the Empres" of Rome. Upon the novelist's canvass, therefore, figure the four-wived Claudius; Britannicus, his son by Messalina; Nero, the son of Agrippina by Domitius Enobarbus; the beautiful Lollia Paulina, the divorced wife of Cali gula; Narcissus, banished, and driven to suicide by the intrigues of Agrippina ; Octavia, the daughter of Claudius; and Acceronia, another lovely Roman. The love-plot consists mainly of the intrigues of Agrippina to aid Nero, in supplanting Lucius Silanus in the affections of Octavia: the poisoning of Claudius and Britannicus to make way for Nero to the throne, also by Agrippina; and the murders of Acceronia and Agrippina, instigated by Nero. To aid in this diabolical work we have Locusta, the celebrated wild woman, or witch; and Camillus, a dwarf, but most important personage in the villany. To these actors and events are added incidental illustrations of the customs of the old Romans-their luxurious festivals, their refined cruelties, and debasing superstitions, with glimpses of their domestic manners-all which receive additional interest from the lapse of nearly eighteen centuries since their existence. It need scarcely be added, that with such materials, assisted by the classic precision of Tacitus in the history of the period, Mr. Bennett has sustained the interest of two volumes, the extent of his work; and, unlike nine out of ten books of the day, "the Empress" might, perhaps, with advantage, have been extended to a third volume. The incidents would not then have succeeded each other with such rapidity as they now do; and space would have been allowed for that repose which is often so requisite in the working of a plot, or bringing about its main events. If the want of this repose be a fault, it is, at least, a rare one in a novel. The work will, doubtless, be read with zest; but, if it be urged that the career of crime in its pages is too dark and rapid, the writer may plead historical truth, though he be chargeable with the omission of redeeming light in the many pictures of infamy which he has so strongly painted. The dialogue throughout the work is neatly written, and has much natural energy, and many refined touches of passion, and highly-wrought poetic feeling: the scenes, or incidental illustrations of manners have, likewise, great merit, with due allowance for the splendor loci, and its mingled terror and delight. Our quotations shall be from these portions of the work, as they may give the reader an idea of its attractive character, without anticipating the interest of the plot. The Empress' Dwarf Page. His hair which was of the richest gold colour, hung in a profusion of shining ringlets over a brow as fair as the most delicate female's; his eyes were of an indistinct colour, approaching to pink, and gave a peculiar expression to his countenance, but not an unpleasant one; his features were pleasing; his complexion healthy; his costume was fancifully composed of a shirt of silver cloth, descending to his knees, and bound in at the waist by a jewelled belt, which fastened in the front with a diamond clasp; over this was thrown, negligently, a Persian shawl of considerable value, with a blue ground, and a deep border of curious workmanship; a small poinard with a jewelled hilt hung at his girdle, and a kind of turban was placed upon the table at which he sat. Terrific Earthquake. noble lions, of Numidian breed, fresh from the mountains, leaped into the circus. At the same moment, the sluices, which were formed for conveying vast quantities of water into the arena for the exhibition of the Naumachia, were opened in every quarter. The water rushed into the circus, and with it the dreadful monsters of the Nile:-crocodiles of an enormous size, kept without food for many days, were again let loose in their native element. The men, terrified at the with one another or advancing to attack approach of the furious animals, fighting them, stood, for a moment, powerless. But six remained, and those, exhausted by their former toil, unarmed and defenceless, destitute of any weapons to inflict a mortal wound, if we except the chirothecæ, (boxing gloves,) cried aloud for swords to sustain the unequal contest; which, by a sign from Claudius, were granted, and the arms of the secutores, (a particular class of gladiators, who fought with sword and buckler,) were flung to their assistance. In front and rear, the furious beasts were seen chased by the scaly monsters, or, in close contact, dragged beneath the water; now rising to inhale the air, (which rang with the acclamations of the people,) and now sinking again in deadly conflict with their silent and voracious enemies. The men were soon compelled to defend themselves; the water, which was after a desperate struggle, but one man renow breast-high, was dyed with blood; and, mained to excite the pity or admiration of animal to encounter; the rest had perished the spectators. He had, however, but one beneath the swords of the men, who died, likewise, under the claws or in the fangs of the beasts they fought with. This struggle was long and doubtful; at length the man, whose body was dreadfully lacerated, defended himself but weakly, and retreated beneath the first row of spectators, casting looks of entreaty for some pitying hand to save him. They had fallen into the Euripus, a canal of ten feet broad, and ten in depth, (which at all times parted the spectators from the actors in the games,) and here the dexterity of the swimmer was superior to the strength of the lion, who, unable to feel the bottom, roared with alarm, and splashed about to keep himself upon the surface, receiving numberless wounds from the sword which his antagonist still faintly wielded. Scarcely had Silanus passed the threshold, when he felt the ground heave under him, and immediately a low, murmuring sound broke upon the awful stillness that succeeded, as if the heavens had become breath less through fear at the convulsions of the earth. Alarmed at the threatening aspect of Nature, he ascended the hundred steps, leading to the principal entrance of the magnificent Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and, from their summit, beheld the tottering and falling edifices, that with every shock strewed the streets with ruins, and listened with grief to the wailings of the unfortunate multitude wandering through the City, increasing each other's terror with loud clamours of despair. The devout thronged the temples which were choked up to suffocation; those who could not obtain access, knelt down in the streets, and heaped dust upon their heads in anguish, calling upon the gods to restrain their vengeance and save the city from destruction. Augurs ascended their towers in every direction: Prophets and Seers increased the confusion of the populace. A dreadful shock loosened the triple row of columns that supported the portico under which Silanus stood, and the gilded marble rolled with a sound like thunder down the spacious field of the Campus Martius. A massive block of Parian stone bounded over his head, while he stood fixed with awe upon the spot, gazing upon the glittering fragments, as they descended with the velocity of thunderbolts to the plain beneath. A sudden darkness covered the city, and strange prodigies were seen,-meteors fell from the clouds,-the sun was obscured,—birds of evil omen hovered about the palace of Claudius, and swooping to the right hand, disappeared with loud screams! Silanus, struck with superstitious terrors, joined the throng that continued to press within the Temple, from which, after performing his devotions, and breathing his supplications to Jupiter, he slowly departed, and forcing his way through the crowded streets, he reached his palace, wearied with exertion, and filled with sorrow for the accumulated calamities that overwhelmed the city. Scene in the Circus. By an order from Claudius, the wild beasts were loosened from their dens. Five At length exhausted, and seeing no hope of succour in the countenances of the beholders, the brave combatant was about to resign himself to his fate, when a young patrician, who during the sports had sat apart from his companions, with his eyes fixed upon one of the royal party, (whose cheek was blanched with the hues of death, as she gazed upon the barbarous scene she was compelled to witness,) darted to the spot, and separating the large folds of his toga, flung a part of it to him for assistance. The hope of life gave fresh vigour to the dying strength of the unfortunate victim; he grasped the welcome succour, and began to climb by its help; but the lion, although pierced with countless wounds, still lingered near his prey. The sword was buried in his side-but the sword-arm of the man was in his claws. The patrician still held one end of the toga he had flung to him, when a number of others, impatient to behold the event of the contest, pressed forward to the edge of the Euripus, and, by their eagerness, precipitated Lucius Silanus into the canal. A shriek of anguish was heard in the podium, and the Emperor's family were seen hastening from their seats, and quitting the circus. The man and beast sank together in the clasp of death, and were seen no more, nor even thought of in the interest excited by the accident that befell Silanus, who had scarcely crossed the canal, and gained a footing in the shallow water which covered the arena, when the voices of the spectators were raised to put him on his guard, a sword flung to him from the balcony of the mæniana was dexterously caught, at the moment when a crocodile (who, during the late combat, had escaped the notice of the people,) had opened its enormous jaws to seize upon its defenceless prey. By a rapid movement he evaded the impending death, and by a dexterous blow struck out an eye of the unwieldy monster, who sank to the bottom. Lucius did the same, and for some moments, the ruffled waters alone gave evidence that the struggle was not at an end. At length they appeared-the tunic of Silanus was torn and bloody, and the breast of his foe who rose erect above him, spouted blood from sundry wounds he had inflicted, by skilfully insinuating himself under the creature's belly. The circus rang with encouraging shouts, and the water, which was ordered to be drained off at the moment the accident occurred, becoming shallower, rendered his motions more free and active. They fell together-the crocodile below, the gallant youth above; who, by a successful stroke, laid open its entrails, as it dropped upon its back. The victory was complete and Silanus, exhausted from the exertion, quitted the circus, followed by the applauding shouts of the delighted spectators. House of Nero. The walls of this delightful room were formed of the most beautiful Grecian marble, brought from the celebrated quarry on Mount Pentelicus, near Athens, adorned with various devices from the fabulous history of the Greeks, &c., and executed by the finest sculptors and artists. The splendid ceiling was supported by twelve columus of Parian marble, of the Ionian order; in the centre appeared a group of figures beautifully chi selled, representing the contest between Enomaus and Pelops in the chariot race at Olympia, at which Jupiter presided-on the right hand of the god was nomaus, with his wife Sterope, a daughter of Atlas; and at the heads of the four steeds harnessed to his chariot, stood his charioteer, the treacherous Myrtillus, and two grooms in attendance. In this corner of the picture was seen the river Cladeus. Upon the left of Jupiter, stood Pelops and Hippodamia, with the chariot, horses, charioteer, and groom; and in the left corner the river Alpheus. This subject was copied by Phidias from the original, in the temple of Jupiter, at Olympia; it engrossed the entire centre of the ceiling, and upon each side of it were two other subjects. The first comprised a number of figures, representing the various exercises of the Olympic games; the second was the spirited subject of Hercules, and his band of warriors, overcoming the Amazons, with Theseus fighting by his side. On the right hand wall of the apartment, was a painting, supposed to have been executed by Panænus, the brother of Phidias, which four hundred years had been unable to deprive of its beautiful tints-Jupiter at war with the Titans. This was supported by two smaller ones, expressive of the trials of skill between Apollo and Mars with the cæstus, and Mercury in the foot-race, in both of which games, Apollo appeared as the victor. On the opposite side was a beautiful enamel of the fate of Prometheus. He was stretched upon his back, and chained to the rock, with a vulture perched upon his breast, which was laid open, and bleeding profusely. The face of Prometheus expressed the agony he endured, and one shackled hand was lifted up to heaven, as if to deprecate its anger; while Hercules stood over them with his club upraised, as if about to slay the vulture. At the upper end of the room a contrivance had been made, to waft delicious perfumes through it, at regular periods. The cornices reflected a glare of light, from the various devices of precious stones that enriched them. Vases of the most costly workmanship, filled with aromatic plants and flowers, were placed around; and goblets, formed from the solid topaz, or more precious ruby. All that could fascinate the eye, and gratify the senses, were collected in this emporium of earth's treasures; but these were common to the eyes of Nero, and having lost their novelty, were no longer valued. Possession robs the fairest treasure of its charms, with those who, unrestrained, can always cull the first bright flower their fickle fancies covet. [By the way, a circumstance connected with this work remains to be noticed. In the Preface, Mr. Bennett explains that the MS. of "the Empress" has been in the publisher's possession for more than twelve months; and he is induced to make this statement lest the reader should suspect him of plagiarism from Mr. Bulwer's Last Days of Pompeii; we may add, although the scenes of both works resemble each other, the circumstances and situations of Mr. Bennett's work differ so materially as to acquit him of every thing but a coincidence, such as will by no means detract from his originality or talent.] SPECIMENS OF THE TABLE TALK OF THE LATE SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. [We have before referred to this work by way of quotation; and now proceed to a few more of its oracular thoughts upon points and subjects of popular and debatable interest. Not a word need be added in praise of the vigour and purity in which these opinions are expressed, nor of the warmth with which they must strike the imagination of the reader. Their laconic energy and polish have, indeed, rarely been equalled by any writer of modern times.] Othello must not be conceived as a negro, but a high and chivalrous Moorish chief. Shakspeare learned the spirit of the character from the Spanish poetry, which was prevalent in England in his time. Jealousy does not strike me as the point in his passion; I take it to be rather an agony that the creature, whom he had believed angelic, with whom he had garnered up his heart, and whom he could not help still loving, should be proved impure and worthless. It was the struggle not to love her. It was a moral indignation and regret that virtue should so fall :-" But yet the pity of it, Iago!-O Iago! the pity of it, Iago!" In addition to this, his honour was concerned: Iago would not have succeeded but by hinting that his honour was compromised. There is no ferocity in Othello; his mind is majestic and composed. He deliberately determines to die; and speaks his last speech with a view of showing his attachment to the Venetian state, though it had superseded him. to Schiller has the material Sublime produce an effect, he sets you a whole town on fire, and throws infants with their mothers into the flames, or locks up a father in an old tower. But Shakspeare drops a handker chief, and the same or greater effects follow. Lear is the most tremendous effort of Shakspeare as a poet; Hamlet as a philosopher or meditater; and Othello is the union of the two. There is something gigantic and unformed in the former two; but in the latter, everything assumes its due place and proportion, and the whole mature powers of his mind are displayed in admirable equilibrium. I think Old Mortality and Guy Mannering the best of the Scotch novels. It is not easy to put me out of countenance, or interrupt the feeling of the time by mere external noise or circumstance; yet once I was thoroughly done up, as you would say. I was reciting, at a particular house, the "Remorse;" and was in the midst of Alhadra's description of the death of her husband, when a scrubby boy, with a shining face set in dirt, burst open the door and cried out," Please, ma'am, master says, Will you ha', or will you not ha', the pin-round?" You abuse snuff! Perhaps it is the final cause of the human nose. A rogue is a roundabout fool; a fool in circumbendibus. St. John's logic is Oriental, and consists chiefly in position and parallel; whilst St. Paul displays all the intricacies of the Greek system. Kean is original; but he copies from himself. His rapid descents from the hypertragic to the infra-colloquial, though sometimes productive of great effect, are often unreasonable. To see him act, is like reading Shakspeare by flashes of lightning. I do not think him thorough-bred gentleman enough to play Othello. I cannot say I expect much from mere Egyptian antiquities. Everything really, that is, intellectually, great in that country seems to me of Grecian origin. The Earth with its scarred face is the symbol of the Past; the Air and Heaven, of Futurity. Up to twenty-one, I hold a father to have power over his children as to marriage; after that age, authority and influence only. Show me one couple unhappy merely on account of their limited circumstances, and I will show you ten who are wretched from other causes. You may depend upon it, that a slight contrast of character is very material to hap piness in marriage. I have often told you that I do not think there is any jealousy, properly so called, in the character of Othello. There is no predisposition to suspicion, which I take to be an essential term in the definition of the word. Desdemona very truly told Emilia that he was not jealous, that is, of a jealous habit, and he says so as truly of himself. Iago's suggestions, you see, are quite new to him; they do not correspond with anything of a like nature previously in his mind. If Desdemona had, in fact, been guilty, no one would have thought of calling Othello's conduct that of a jealous man. He could not act otherwise than he did with the lights he had; whereas jealousy can never be strictly |