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"sarcasms on our government and manners, to that profound ignorance which prevails here on the subject. Peter, in his "Letters to his Kinsfolk," says that the Edinburgh Reviewers are little better than deists. "It is a very easy thing to deny, (says he,) that the doctrines of religious scepticism have been ever openly and broadly promulgated in the pages of the ReEview; but I think no candid person can entertain the slightest doubt, that the tendency of the whole work has been uniformly and essentially infidel."

The perusal of what are called the "Waverly Novels," always affords me a rich mental treat. I prefer Waverly, Rob Roy and

sides of the Atlantic-and they have harped upon these topics, in the sequel of a tissue of the bitterest contumelies and sarcasms," I refer the reader to this learned and amusing work, for a complete exposition of the conduct of the British Reviewers towards us; Mr. Walsh appears to have completely silenced the hiss of these serpents of literature, on the subject of our country-for, since the publication of his Appeal, they have been wonderfully condescending and gracious-vide the reviews of the Sketch Book.

The

* Mrs. Barbauld, (in her edition of the "Correspondence of Richardson,") divides novels into three several classes. first is the narrative or epic form, in which the whole story is put into the mouth of the author, who is supposed, like the Muse, to know every thing; the second is that in which the hero relates his own adventures; and the third is that of epistolary correspondence. In the opinion of a learned critic, there is only one species of novel, to which the epistolary style is peculiarly adapted; that is, where the interest depends, not upon the adventures, but on the characters of the persons represented, and in which the story is of very subordinate importance. Rousseau's Héloise may be considered as the model of this species of writing: in this immortal work, there is scarcely any narration at all; and the

Old Mortality to the others;* but all of them are so excellent, that their numerous beauties strike me blind to their trifling errors. I am inclined to think, however, that the author of these far famed productions, (whoever he may be,) is no very ardent friend to liberty, but an admirer of the new-fangled doctrines of legitimacy. I doubt not that he belongs to a singular political sect sprung up lately, whose mouth, as the Spectator would say, is Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd. In the writings of these modern Jacobites, the devotion of the Stuart partisans is lavishly chaunted, their heroism is consecrated as super-human, the Cavaliers are lauded to the skies; but for the Whigs, they

interest may be said to consist altogether in the eloquent expression of fine sentiments and exalted passion. The author of the Scotch novels appears to prefer the first of the three modes, which is undoubtedly the best, for it lays the writer under no restraint; he can introduce the two other methods when he thinks proper, and can make use of the dramatic or conversation style as often as the subject requires it.

* I have just been reading the Pirate, which is stamped with all the marks of the author's great genius. The description of the wild scenery of the Northern isles, and the striking delineations of character, are the principal beauties of the work. There is a dreadful tone of energy in the misanthropy of the elder Mertoun, and an expression of wretchedness and alienation from mankind, which recals to mind the gloomy heroes of Lord Byron. What could be more beautiful than the description of the two lovely sisters in bed; from which Minna wishes to rise, in order to bid adieu to her lover, but finds it impossible to extricate herself from her sister's grasp without awakening her! " Brenda had sobbed herself to sleep on her bosom, and lay with her face on her neck, with one arm stretched around her, in the attitude of a child which has been lulled to repose in the arms of its

nurse."

can find no terms of reprobation too severe; is the word liberty throws them into a paroxysm of rage and abuse; a free and national government is, with them, synonymous with a frantic mobocracy, and a free press the organ of popular licentiousness. The "great enchanter of the North," as the famous novelist has been called, does not openly and zealously defend these detestable principles; but every now and then a sly hint, or cursory remark lifts up the mask, and discovers the Jacobite spirit of which I have been speaking-These "paucæ maculæ," however, will not be perceived by the generality of readers: if this celebrated writer errs, it is the wandering of a great mind dazzled with its own splendours, and which seem like the throne of Milton's heaven, "dark with excessive bright."

LETTER XV.

The ornaments of comedy ought not to be rich and real, but feigned and artificial, like the drama itself. Those who represent and compose it are all instruments of great benefit to the commonwealth, holding, as it were, a looking-glass always before us, in which we see naturally delineated all the actions of life; and no other comparison whatever, represents to us more lively what we are, and what we ought to be, than comedy and her attendants. Don Quixotte.

Edinburgh, April 17, 1819.

I THINK I have before mentioned to you, that Edinburgh is deficient in those elegant

amusements which serve to unbend the mind after application to study and business. There is a pantheon or circus, which is beneath criticism; and there are assembly rooms and a theatre, and Princes' street to display one's finery in, and Calton Hill for a healthful walk, and that's all I have only been once to the pantheon, and was so disgusted at their vulgar pantomimes, rope dancing, horse trotting, jumping over chairs, roaring, &c. that I resolved never to go there again.

The theatre is, from its form and size, well adapted to seeing and hearing; but the building itself would disgrace a country village, and the bad arrangements of the lights destroys the scenic effect. On the whole, the decorations are by no means contemptible, and the comic acting is sometimes very good. One part of the house is destined for that class of women which belongs to none in society:

"Here young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds.”

The first row of boxes alone is filled with people of fashion; that part of the gallery, immediately fronting the stage, is generally crowded with drunken sailors and their, dirty drabs; and the pit is preferred by those who go to the theatre to see and hear, rather than to be seen and heard.

Last night I went to see a representation of Rob Roy, which was very amusing. The story of the novel is dramatized with much taste. The author has very judiciously adopted the

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humorous language and peculiar expressions of the novel, and his songs are not of his own Composition; but he has tacitly confessed that Burns and Wordsworth have written better than he could. The interest in this opera is not that suggested by melo-dramatic horrors, which are so certain a mark of bad taste. The scene in the Highlands, when Rob Roy appears just after the jeremiads for his capture, is the most interesting. There was something very fine in the dumb despair of his wife and people for his capture; and this melancholy picture was beautifully contrasted with their enthusiastic and boisterous exultation, when he presents himself to their view.

The part of Frank Osbaldistone was execrably performed by an awkward stick lately imported from one of the minor London theatres. A graceless bumpkin who can do nothing but sing a song, is more unsufferable in my mind, than an actor who can do any thing but sing. The character best performed was that of Baillie Nicol Jarvie, by Mackay. When he talked about "dangling like the sign of the Golden Fleece over the door of a mercer's shop op Ludgate Hill," I could not help exclaiming my conscience!" Peter's Letters" contain a very excellent critique on Mackay's performance.

The view of Glasgow Bridge at night had a very fine effect, but not so beautiful as that of Loch Lomond, in the last act. I certainly did not expect to see such beautiful scenery, and

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