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“A! this instant a knight, urging his horse to y alone. Elgitha had no sooner retired with unwilling speed, appeared on the plain advancing towards the steps, than, to the surprise of the Lady of Ivanhoe, lists. An hundred voices exclaimed, ' A champion! her fair visitanı kneeled suddenly on one knee, a champion!' And, despite the prepossession and pressed her hands to her forehead, and, bending her prejudices of the multitude, they shouted unani. head to the ground, in spite of Rowena's resistance, mously as the knight rode rapidly into the tilt-yard. kissed the embroidered hem of her tunic.-- Whai To the summons of the herald, who demanded his means this ?' said the surprised bride; or why do rank, his name, and purpose, the stranger knight you offer to me a deference so unusual?'—. Be. answered readily and boldly, 'I am a good knight cause to you, Lady of Ivanhoe,' said Rebecca, and noble, come hither to sustain with lance and rising up and resuming the usual quiet dignity of sword the just and lawful quarrel of this damsel, her manner, 'I may lawfully, and without rebuke, Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York; to uphold the pay the debi of gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of doom pronounced against her to be false and truth. Ivanhoe. I am-forgive the boldness which has less; and to defy Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as a offered to you the homage of my country-I am the Irailor, murtherer, and liar.' The stranger must unhappy Jewess, for whom your husband hazarded first show,' said Malvoisin, that he is a good | his life against such fearful odds in the vilt-yard of Knight, and of honourable lineage. The Temple Templestowe.— Damsel,' said Rowena, Wilfred sendesh not forth her champions against nameless of Ivanhoe on that day rendered back but in a slight men.'—My name,' said the Knight, raising his measure your unceasing charity towards him in his helinel, is better known, my lineage more pure, wounds and misfortunes. Speak, is there aught Malvoisin, than thine own. I am Wilfred of Ivan remains in which he and I can

serve ibee?' - Noib. hoe.'—' I will not fight with thee,' said the Templar, ing,' said Rebecca, calmly, ' unless you will transin a changed and hollow voice. . Get thy wounds mit to him my grateful farewell.'—You leave Eng. healed, and purvey thee a better horse, and it may land, then,' said Rowena, scarce recovering the sur. be I will hold it worth my while to scourge out of prise of this extraordinary visii.-'I leave ir, lady, thee this boyish spirit of bravade.'— Ha! proud ere this moon again changes. My father haih a Templar,' said Ivanhoe, 'hast thou forgotten that bro! her high in favour with Mohammed Boabdil, twice didst thou fall before this lance? Remember King of Grenada-thither we go, secure of peace the lists at Acro-remember the Passage of Arms and protection, for the payment of such ransom as at Ashby-remember thy proud vaunt in the halls the Moslem exact from our people.'—' And are you of Rotherwood, and the gage of your gold chain not then as well proiecied in England ?' said Rowe. against my reliquary, that thou wouldst do battle na. My husband has favour with the King-the with Wilfred of Ivanhoe, and recover the honour King binself is just and generous. - Lady,' said thou hadst lost! By that reliquary, and the holy Rebecca, I doubt it no:—but England is no safe relique it contains, I will proclaim thee, Templar, abode for the children of niy people. Ephraim is an a coward in every court in Europe-in every Pre heariless dove-Issachar an over-laboured drudge, ceptory of thine Order-unless thou do batile with which sioops between iwo burthens. Not in a land oui fariher delay.' —Bois-Guilbert turned his conn- of war and blood, surrounded by hostile neighbours, tenance irresolutely towards Rebecca, and then ex. and distracted by internal factions, can Israel hope claimed, looking fiercely at Ivanhoe, Dog of a to rest during her wanderings.'-' But you, maiden,' Saxon, iake thy lance, and prepare for the death said Rowena—you surely can have nothing to fear. shou hast drawn upon thee!'--. Does the Grand She who nursed ihe sick-bed of Ivanhoe,' she conMaster allow me the combat ?' said Ivanhoe.—Iinued, rising with enthusiasm–she can have noih. may not deny what you have challenged,' said the ing to fear in England, where Saxon and Norman Grand Master, 'yet I would thou wert in better will contend who shall most do her honour.'-—' Thy plight to do battle. An enemy of our Order hast speech is fair, lady,' said Rebecca, and thy purthou ever been, yet would I have thee honourably pose fairer; buti may not be-here is a gulf be. n. 21 with.' . Thus—hus as I am, and not others liwix! us. Our breeding, our faith, alike forbid either wise,' said Ivanhoe; “it is the judgment of God !- to pass over it. Farewell!-yel, ere I go, indulge to his keeping I commend myself.""

me one request. The bridal veil hangs over thy We cannot make room for the whole of this fame' speaks so highly.'— They are searce worthy

face; raise it, and let me see the features of which catastrophe. The overtired horse of Ivanhoe of being looked upon,' said Rowena; 'but, expectfalls in the shock; but the Templar, though ing the same from my visitant, I remove the veil.'— scarcely touched by the lance of his adver- She took it off accordingly, and partly from the consary, reels, and falls also ;—and when they sciousness of beauty, partly from bashfulness, she seek to raise him, is found to be utterly dead? blushed so intensely, that cheek, brow, neck, and

bosom, were suffused with crimson. Rebecca blush. a victim to his own contending passions.

ed also, but it was a momentary feeling; and, mas. We will give but one scene more-and it is tered by higher emotions, passed slowly from her in honour of the divine Rebecca—for the fate of features like the crimson cloud, which changes coall the rest may easily be divined. Richard for- lour when the sun sinks beneath the horizon. vives his brother; and Wilfred weds Rowena. " Lady, she said, 'the countenance you have

deigned to show me will long dwell in my remem“I was upon the serond morning after this happy brance. There reigns in it gentleness and goodbridal, that the Lady Rowena was made acquainted ness; and if a tinge of the world's pride or vanities hy her hardmaid Elgiha, that a damsel desired ad. may mix with an expression so lovely, how may we mission in bas presence, and solicised that their par chide that which is of earth for bearing some colour lev might be without wiiness. Rowena wondered, of its original ? Long, long shall I remember your hejialed. became curious, and ended by command features, and bless God that I leave my noble deing the damsel to be admitted, and her atiendants liverer united with'-She stopped short-her cycs to withdraw.--She entered—a noble and command. filled with tears. She hastily wiped them, and aning figure; the long while veil in which she was swered to the anxious inquiries of Rowena-I am shrouded, overshadowing rather than concealing well. lady--well. But my heart swells when I think the elegance and majesty of her shape. Her de. of Torquilstone and the lists of Templestowe! meanour was that of respect, unmingled by the Farewell! One, the most trifling part of my duty, least shade either of fear, or of a wish 19 propitiate remains undischarged. Accept this casker-startle favour. Rowena was ever ready to acknowledge not at its contents.?—Rowena opened the small sil. the claims, and attend to the feelings of others. She ver.chased casket, and perceived a carcanet, or arose, and would have conducted the lovely stranger necklace, with ear-jewels, of diamonds, which were to a seat; but she looked at Elgitha, and again in visibly of immense value.—• It is impossible,' she timated a wish to discourse with the Lady Rowena said, iendering back the casket, 'I dare not accept

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a gift of such consequence.'—' Yet keep it, lady,'| or Cynocephali. The interest we do take is in returned Rebecca.- Let me not think you deem the situations—and the extremes of peril, heso wretchedly ill of my nation as your commons be- roism, and atrocity, in which the great latiments of stone above my liberty ? or that my father tude of the fiction enables the author to in. values them in comparison to the honour of his only dulge. Even with this advantage, we soon child ? Accept them, lady-to me they are valueless. feel, not only that the characters he brings beI will never wear jewels more.'- You are then fore us are contrary to our experience, but that unhappy,' said Rowena, struck with the manner in they are actually impossible. There could in which Rebecca uttered the last words. • 0, remain fact have been no such state of society as that with us—the counsel of holy men will wean you of which the story before us professes to give from your unhappy law, and I will be a sister to vou.'— No, lady,' answered Rebecca, the same us but samples and ordinary results. In a calm melancholy reigning in her soft voice and beau- country beset with such worthies as Front-detitul features, – that may not be. I may not change Bæuf, Malvoisin, and the rest, Isaac the Jew the faith of my fathers, like a garment unsuited to could neither have grown rich, nor lived to old the climate in which I seek to dwell; and unhappy, age ; and no Rebecca could either have acfuture life, will be my comforter, if I do His will._ quired her delicacy, or preserved her honour. * Have you then convents, to one of which you Neither could a plump Prior Aymer have folmean to retire ? asked Rowena. No, lady,' said lowed venery in woods swarming with the the Jewess; but among our people, since the time merry men of Robin Hood.—Rotherwood must of Abraham downward, have been women who have been burned to the ground two or three have devoted their thoughts to Heaven, and their actions to works of kindness to men, tending the times in every year—and all the knights and sick, feeding the hungry, and relieving the distress thanes of the land been killed off nearly as ed. Among these will Rebecca be numbered. Say often. The thing, in short, when calmly conthis to thy lord, should he inquire after the fate of sidered, cannot be received as a reality; and, her whose life he saved !--There was an involun- after gazing for a while on the splendid pageant tary tremor in Rebecca's voice, and a tenderness which it presents, and admiring the exagger, of accent, which perhaps betrayed more than she rated beings who counterfeit, in their grand bid Rowena adieu.-- Farewell,' she said, 'may style, the passions and feelings of our poor huHe, who made both Jew and Christian, shower man nature, we soon find that we must turn down on you his choicest blessings!'

again to our Waverleys, and Antiquaries, and “She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena Old Mortalities, and become acquainted with fair Saxon related the singular conference to her our neighbours and ourselves, and our duties husband, on whose mind it made a deep impression. and dangers, and true felicities, in the exquiHe lived long and happily with Rowena ; for they site pictures which our author there exhibits were attached to each other by the bonds of early of the follies we daily witness or display, and affection, and they loved each other the more, from of the prejudices, habits, and affections, by recollection of the obstacles which had impeded which we are still hourly obstructed, governtheir union. Yet it would be inquiring too curiously to ask, whether the recollection of Rebecca's beauty

ed, or cheered. and magnanimity did not recur to his mind more

We end, therefore, as we began-by prefrequently than the fair descendant of Alfred might ferring the home scenes, and the copies of altogether have approved.'

originals which we know—but admiring, in

the highest degree, the fancy and judgment The work before us shows at least as much and feeling by which this more distant and genius as any of those with which it must now ideal prospect is enriched. It is a splendid be numbered-and excites, perhaps, at least Poem-and contains matter enough for six on the first perusal, as strong an interest : But good Tragedies. As it is, it will make a gloit does not delight so deeply—and we rather rious melodrame for the end of the season.think it will not please so long: Rebecca is Perhaps the author does better-for us and almost the only lovely being in the story—and for himself—by writing more novels : But we she is evidently a creature of the fancy-a have an earnest wish that he would try his mere poetical personification. Next to her hand in the actual bow of Shakespeare-venfor Isaac is but a milder Shylock, and by no ture fairly within his enchanted circle--and means more natural than his original--the reassert the Dramatic Sovereignty of England, heartiest interest is excited by the outlaws and by putting forth a genuine Tragedy of passion, their merry chief-because the tone and man- fancy, and incident. He has all the qnaliticaners ascribed to them are more akin to those tions to insure success*-except perhaps the that prevailed among the yeomanry of later art of compression ;-for we suspect it would days, than those of the Knights, Priors, and cost him no little effort to confine his story, Princes, are to any thing with which a more and the development of his characters, to recent age has been acquainted.-Cedric the some fifty or sixty small pages. But the atSaxon, with his thralls, and Bois-Guilbert the tempt is worth making; and he may be cerTemplar with his Moors, are to us but theoreti- tain that he cannot fail without glory. cal or mythological persons. We know nothing about them--and never feel assured that * We take it for granted, that the charming es: we fully comprehend their drift, or enter tracts from Old Plays," that are occasionally rightly into their feelings. The same genius given as moitoes to the chapters of this and some which now busies us with their concerns, of his other works, are original compositions of the might have excited an equal interest for the author whose prose they garnish :-and they show adventures of Oberon and Pigwiggin—or for style of Dramatic versification, than of all the higher

that he is not less a master of the most beautiful any imaginary community of Giants, Amazons, I and more inward secrets of that forgotten art.

(I une, 182 2.) The Fortunes of Nigel. By the Author of "Waverley,”! " Kenilworth,” &c. In 3 vols.

12mo. pp. 950. Edinburgh : Constable & Co. 1822. It was a happy thought in us to review this merely notice one or two things that still live author's works in groups, rather than in single in our remembrance. pieces; for we should never otherwise haveWe do not think the White Lady, and the been able to keep up both with him and with other supernatural agencies, the worst blemish our other business. "Even as it is, we find we of “The Monastery.” On the contrary, the have let him run so far ahead, that we have first apparition of the spirit by her lonely now rather more of him on hand than we can fountain (though borrowed from Lord Byron's well get through at a sitting; and are in dan- Witch of the Alps in Manfred), as well as the ger of forgetting the early part of the long effect of the interview on the mind of the series of stories to which we are thus obliged young aspirant lo whom she reveals herself, to look back, or of finding it forgotten by the have always appeared to us to be very beaupublic—or at least of having the vast assem- tifully imagined : But we must confess, that blage of events and characters that now lie their subsequent descent into an alabaster before us something jumbled and confounded, cavern, and the seizure of a stolen Bible from both in our own recollections, and that of our an altar blazing with cold flames, is a fiction admiring readers.

of a more ignoble stock; and looks very like Our last particular notice, we think, was of an unlucky combination of a French fairy tale Ivanhoe, in the end of 1819; and in the two and a dull German romance. The Euphuist years that have since elapsed, we have had too, Sir Piercie Shafton, is a mere nuisance the Monastery, the Abbot, Kenilworth, the throughout. Nor can we remember any inPirates, and Nigel, one, two, three, four, five cident in an unsuccessful farce more utterly -large original works from the same fertile absurd and pitiable, than the remembrance and inexhaustible pen. It is a strange manu- of tailorship that is supposed to be conjured facture! and, though depending entirely on up in the mind of this chivalrous person, by invention and original fancy, really seems to the presentment of the fairy's bodkin to his proceed with all the steadiness and regularity eyes. There is something ineffably poor at of a thing that was kept in operation by in- once, and extravagant, in the idea of a solid dustry and application alone. Our whole silver implement being taken from the hair of fraternity, for example, with all the works of a spiritual and shadowy being, for the sage all other writers to supply them with mate- purpose of making an earthly coxcomb angry rials, are not half so sure of bringing out their to no end ;-while our delight at this happy two volumes in the year, as this one author, imagination is not a little heightened by rewith nothing but his own genius to depend flecting that it is all the time utterly unintellion, is of bringing out his six or seven. There gible, how the mere exhibition of a lady's is no instance of any such experiment being bodkin should remind any man of a tailor in so long continued with success; and, accord his pedigree-or be thought to import such a ing to all appearances, it is just as far from a disclosure to the spectators. termination now, as it was at the beginning. But, notwithstanding these gross faults, and If it were only for the singularity of the thing, the general flatness of the monkish partsit would be worth while to chronicle the ac- including that of the Sub-prior, which is a tual course and progress of this extraordinary failure in spite of considerable labour-it adventure.

would be absurd to rank this with common Of the two first works we have mentioned, novels, or even to exclude it from the file of the Monastery and the Abbot, we have the the author's characteristic productions. It has least to say; and we believe the public have both humour, and fancy and pathos enough, the least curiosity to know our opinion. They to maintain its title to such a distinction.-are certainly the least meritorious of the whole The aspiring temper of Halbert Glendinming, series, either subsequent or preceding; and the rustic establishment of Glendearg, the while they are decidedly worse than the other picture of Christie of Clinthill, and, above all, works of the same author, we are not sure the scenes at the castle of Avene), are all that we can say, as we have done of some of touched with the hand of a master. Julian's his other failures, that they are better than dialogue, or soliloquy rather, to his hawk, in those of any other recent writer of fiction.— presence of his paramour, with its accompaniSo conspicuous, indeed, was their inferiority, ments and sequel, is as powerful as any thing that we at one time apprehended that we the author has produced; and the tragic and should have been called upon to interfere historical scenes that lead to the conclusion before our time, and to admonish the author are also, for the most part, excellent. It is a of the hazard to which he was exposing his work, in short, which pleases more upon a fame. But as he has since redeemed that second reading than at first—as we not only slip, we shall now pass it over lightly, and pass over the Euphuism and other dull passages, but, being aware of its defects, no sparing fulness, but with the most brilliant longer feel the disappointment and proroca- and seducing effect. Leicester is less happy; tion which are apt, on their first excitement, and we have certainly a great deal too much to make rs unjust to its real merits.

both of the of Michael LamIn point of real merit, “ The Abbot" is not boume, the atrocious villany of Vaney and much better, we think, than the Monastery- Foster, and the magical dealings of Alasco but it is fuller of historical painting, and, in and Wayland Smith. Indeed, almost all the the higher scenes, has perhaps a deeper and lower agents in the performance have a sort more exalted interest. The Popish zealots, of Demoniacal character; and ihe deep ard whether in the shape of prophetic crones or disgusting guilt by which most of the main heroic monks, are very tiresome personages. incidents are developed, make a splendid fasCatherine Seyton is a wilful deterioration of sage of English history read like the Newgale Diana Vemon, and is far too pert and con- Calendar, and give a certain horror 10 the fident; while her paramour Roland Græme is, story, which is neither agreeable to historical for a good part of the work, little better than truth, nor attractive in a work of imagination. a blackguard boy, who should have liad his: The great charm and glory of the piece, head broken twice a day, and been put nightly however, consists in the magnificence and in the stocks, for his impertinence. Soine of vivacity of the descriptions with which it the scenes at Lochleven are of a different abounds; and which set before our eyes, with pitch ;—though the formal and measured sar- a freshness and force of colouring which can casmś which the Queen and Lady Douglas scarcely ever be gained except by actual obinterchange with such solemn verbosity, have servation, all the pomp and stateliness, the a very heavy and unnatural effect. These glitter and solemnity, of that heroic reig. faults, however, are amply redeemed by the The moving picture of Elizabeth's night entry beauties with which they are mingled. There to Kenilworth is given with such spirit, richare some grand passages, of enthusiasm and ness, and copiousness of detail, that we seem devoted courage, in Catherine Seyton. The actually transported to the middle of the escape from Lochleven is given with great scene. We feel the press, and hear the music effect and spirit—and the subsequent muster- and the din—and descry, amidst the fading ing of the Queen's adherents, and their march lights of a summer eve, the majestical pacings to Langside, as well as the battle itself, are and waving banners that surround the march full of life and colouring. The noble bearing of the heroic Queen; while the mixture of and sad and devoted love of George Douglas ludicrous incidents, and the ennui that steals —the brawl on the streets of Edinburgh, and on the lengthened parade and fatiguing pre[2. the scenes at Holyrood, both serious and ration, give a sense of truth and reality to the comic, as well as many of the minor charac- sketch that seems to belong rather to recent ters, such as the Ex-abbot of St. Mary's me- recollection than mere ideal conception. We tamorphosed into the humble gardener of believe, in short, that we have at this moment Lochleven, are all in the genuine manner of as lively and distinct an impression of the the author, and could not have proceeded from whole scene, as we shall have in a few weeks any other hand. On the whole, however, the of a similar Joyous Entry, for which preparawork is unsatisfactory, and too deficient in tions are now making * in this our loval medesign and unity. We do not know why it tropolis,-and of which we hope, before that should have been called “The Abbot,” as time, to be spectators. The account of Leithat personage has scarcely any thing to do cester's princely hospitality, and of the roval with it. As an historical sketch, it has nei- divertisements that ensued.--the feastings ther beginning nor end ;-nor does the time and huntings, the flatteries and dissemblings which it embraces possess any peculiar inter- the pride, the jealousy, the ambition, the reest :-and for a history of Roland Græme, venge,—are all portrayed with the same ani. which is the only denomination that can give mating pencil, and leave every thing behind, it coherence, the narrative is not only far too but some rival works of the same unrivalled slight and insignificant in itself, but is too artist. The most surprising piece of mere much broken in upon by higher persons and description, however, that we have ever seen, weightier affairs, to retain any of the interest is that of Amy's magnificent apartments at which it might otherwise have possessed. Cumnor Place, and of the dress and beauty

“Kenilworth,” however, is a flight of an- of the lovely creature for whom they were other wing—and rises almost, if not alto- adorned. We had no idea before that gether, 10 the level of Ivanhoe ;-displaying, holstery and millinery could be made so eperhaps, as much power in assembling to-gaging; and though we are aware that it is gether, and distributing in striking groups, the living Beauty that gives its enchantment the copious historical materials of that ro- to the scene, and breathes over the whole an mantic age, as the other does in eking out air of voluptuousness, innocence, and priv, i: their scantiness by the riches of the author's is impossible not to feel that the vivid and imagination. Elizabeth herself, surrounded clear presentment of the visible objects by as she is with lively and imposing recollec- which she is surrounded, and the antique tions, was a difficult personage to bring promi- splendour in which she is enshrined, not only nently forward in a work of fiction : But the strengthen our impressions of the reality, but task, we think, is here not only fearlessly, but admirably performed; and the character

* The visit of George IV. 10 Edinburgh in July, brought out, not merely with the most un



actually fascinate and delight us in them- / friend in the favour of the honest Udaller. · selves, -just as the draperies and still-life in The charm of the book is in the picture of

a grand historical picture often divide our ad- his family. Nothing can be more beautiful miration with the pathetic effect of the story than the description of the two sisters, and told by the principal figures. The catastro- the gentle and innocent affection that conphe of the unfortunate Amy herself is too tinues to unite them, even after love has come sickening and full of pity to be endured; and to divide their interests and wishes. The visit we shrink from the recollection of it, as we paid them by Norna, and the tale she tells would from that of a recent calamity of our them at midnight, lead to a fine display of own. The part of Tressilian is unfortunate on the perfect purity of their young hearts, and the whole, though it contains touches of in- the native gentleness and dignity of their terest and beauty. The sketch of young Ra- character. There is, perhaps, still more geleigh is splendid, and in excellent keeping nius in the development and full exhibition of with every thing beside it. More, we think, their father's character; who is first introduced might have been made of the desolate age to us as little else than a jovial, thoughtless. and broken-hearted anguish of Sir Hugh Rob- hospitable housekeeper, but gradually dissart; though there are one or two little traits closes the most captivating traits, not only of of his paternal love and crushed affection, kindness and courage, but of substantial genethat are inimitably sweet and pathetic, and rosity and delicacy of feeling, without ever which might have lost their effect, perhaps, departing, for an instant, from the frank home. if the scene had been extended. We do not liness of his habitual demeanour. Norna is a care much about the goblin dwarf

, nor the host, new incarnation of Meg Merrilees, and palpa. nor the mercer,-nor any of the other charac- bly the same in the spirit. Less degraded in ters. They are all too fantastical and affected. her habits and associates, and less lofty and They seem copied rather from the quaintness pathetic in her denunciations, she reconciles of old plays, than the reality of past and pres- fewer contradictions, and is, on the whole, ent nature; and serve beiter to show what inferior perhaps to her prototype; but is far manner of personages were to be met with in above the rank of a mere imitated or borrowed the Masks and Pageants of the age, than what character. The Udaller's visit to her dwellwere actually to be found in the living popu- ing on the Fitful-head is admirably managed, lation of the land.

and highly characteristic of both parties. Of The Pirates” is a bold attempt to furnish the humorous characters, Yellowlees is the out a long and eventful story, from a very nar- best. Few things, indeed, are better than row circle of society, and a scene so circum- the description of his equestrian progression scribed as scarcely to admit of any great scope to the feast of the Udaller. Claud Halcro is or variety of action; and its failure, in so far too fantastical; and peculiarly out of place, as it may be thought to have failed, should, we should think, in such a region. A man in fairness, be ascribed chiefly to this scanti- who talks in quotations from common plays, ness and defect of the materials. The author, and proses eternally about glorious John Dryaccordingly, has been obliged to borrow pretty den, luckily is not often to be met with anylargely from other regions. The character where, but least of all in the Orkney Islands. and story of Mertoun (which is at once com- Bunce is liable to the same objection,—though mon-place and extravagant),—that of the there are parts of his character, as well as Pirate himself, -and that of Halcro the poet, that of Fletcher and the rest of the crew, have no connection with the localities of Shet- given with infinite spirit and effect. The de. land, or the peculiarities of an insular life. nouement of the story is strained and imMr. Yellowlees, though he gives occasion to probable, and the conclusion rather unsatissome strong contrasts, is in the same situa- factory: But the work, on the whole, opens tion. The great blemish, however, of the up a new world to our curiosity, and affords work, is the inconsistency in Cleveland's another proof of the extraordinary pliability, character, or rather the way in which he dis- as well as vigour, of the author's genius. appoints us, by turning out so much better We come now to the work which has afthan we had expected—and yet substantially forded us a pretext for this long retrospection, so ill. So great, indeed, is this disappoint- and which we have approached, as befitteth ment, and so strong the grounds of it, that we a royal presence, through this long vista of cannot help suspecting that the author him- preparatory splendour. Considering that it self must have altered his design in the course has now been three months in the hands of of the work; and, finding himself at a loss the public—and must be about as well known how to make either a demon or a hero of the to most of our readers as the older works to . personage whom he had introduced with a which we have just alluded—we do not very view to one or other of these characters, be- well see why we should not deal with it as took himself to the expedient of leaving him summarily as we have done with them; and, in that neutral or mixed state, which, after sparing our dutiful readers the fatigue of toilall, suits the least with his conduct and situa- ing through a detail with which they are altion, or with the effects which he is supposed ready familiar, content ourselves with marking to produce. All that we see of him is a dar- our opinion of it in the same general and ing, underbred, forward, heartless fellow- comprehensive manner that we have ventured very unlikely, we should suppose, to capti- to adopt as to those earlier productions. This vate the affections of the high-minded, ro- accordingly is the course which, in the main, mantic Minna, or even to supplant an old we propose to follow; though, for the sake of 69

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