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sages, but, being aware of its defects, no longer feel the disappointment and provocation which are apt, on their first excitement, to make rs unjust to its real merits.

In point of real merit, "The Abbot" is not much better, we think, than the Monasterybut it is fuller of historical painting, and, in the higher scenes, has perhaps a deeper and more exalted interest. The Popish zealots, whether in the shape of prophetic crones or heroic monks, are very tiresome personages. Catherine Seyton is a wilful deterioration of Diana Vernon, and is far too pert and confident; while her paramour Roland Græme is, for a good part of the work, little better than a blackguard boy, who should have had his head broken twice a day, and been put nightly in the stocks, for his impertinence. Some of the scenes at Lochleven are of a different, pitch-though the formal and measured sarcasms which the Queen and Lady Douglas interchange with such solemn verbosity, have a very heavy and unnatural effect. These faults, however, are amply redeemed by the beauties with which they are mingled. There are some grand passages, of enthusiasm and devoted courage, in Catherine Seyton. The escape from Lochleven is given with great effect and spirit-and the subsequent mustering of the Queen's adherents, and their march to Langside, as well as the battle itself, are full of life and colouring. The noble bearing and sad and devoted love of George Douglas -the brawl on the streets of Edinburgh, and the scenes at Holyrood, both serious and comic, as well as many of the minor characters, such as the Ex-abbot of St. Mary's metamorphosed into the humble gardener of Lochleven, are all in the genuine manner of the author, and could not have proceeded from any other hand. On the whole, however, the work is unsatisfactory, and too deficient in design and unity. We do not know why it should have been called "The Abbot," as that personage has scarcely any thing to do with it. As an historical sketch, it has neither beginning nor end ;-nor does the time which it embraces possess any peculiar interest-and for a history of Roland Græme, which is the only denomination that can give it coherence, the narrative is not only far too slight and insignificant in itself, but is too much broken in upon by higher persons and weightier affairs, to retain any of the interest which it might otherwise have possessed.

sparing fulness, but with the most brilliant and seducing effect. Leicester is less happy: and we have certainly a great deal too much both of the blackguardism of Michael Lambourne, the atrocious villany of Varney and Foster, and the magical dealings of Alasco and Wayland Smith. Indeed, almost all the lower agents in the performance have a soit of Demoniacal character; and the deep and disgusting guilt by which most of the main incidents are developed, make a splendid passage of English history read like the New gate Calendar, and give a certain horror to the story, which is neither agreeable to historical truth, nor attractive in a work of imagination.

The great charm and glory of the piece, however, consists in the magnificence and vivacity of the descriptions with which it abounds; and which set before our eyes, with a freshness and force of colouring which can scarcely ever be gained except by actual observation, all the pomp and stateliness, the glitter and solemnity, of that heroic reign. The moving picture of Elizabeth's night entry to Kenilworth is given with such spirit, richness, and copiousness of detail, that we seem actually transported to the middle of the scene. We feel the press, and hear the music and the din-and descry, amidst the fading lights of a summer eve, the majestical pacings and waving banners that surround the march of the heroic Queen; while the mixture of ludicrous incidents, and the ennui that steals on the lengthened parade and fatiguing preparation, give a sense of truth and reality to the sketch that seems to belong rather to recent recollection than mere ideal conception. We believe, in short, that we have at this moment as lively and distinct an impression of the whole scene, as we shall have in a few weeks of a similar Joyous Entry, for which preparations are now making in this our loyal me tropolis,—and of which we hope, before that time, to be spectators. The account of Leicester's princely hospitality, and of the royal divertisements that ensued, the feastings and huntings, the flatteries and dissemblings, the pride, the jealousy, the ambition, the revenge,-are all portrayed with the same animating pencil, and leave every thing behind, but some rival works of the same unrivalled artist. The most surprising piece of mere description, however, that we have ever seen, is that of Amy's magnificent apartments at Cumnor Place, and of the dress and beauty of the lovely creature for whom they were adorned. We had no idea before that upholstery and millinery could be made so engaging; and though we are aware that it is the living Beauty that gives its enchantment to the scene, and breathes over the whole an air of voluptuousness, innocence, and pity, it is impossible not to feel that the vivid and clear presentment of the visible objects by which she is surrounded, and the antique splendour in which she is enshrined, not only strengthen our impressions of the reality, but

"Kenilworth," however, is a flight of another wing-and rises almost, if not altogether, to the level of Ivanhoe;-displaying, perhaps, as much power in assembling together, and distributing in striking groups, the copious historical materials of that romantic age, as the other does in eking out their scantiness by the riches of the author's imagination. Elizabeth herself, surrounded as she is with lively and imposing recollections, was a difficult personage to bring prominently forward in a work of fiction: But the task, we think, is here not only fearlessly, but admirably performed; and the character brought out, not merely with the most un- 1822.

The visit of George IV. to Edinburgh in July,

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 homeif 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 palpanor 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 better 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 humorous characters, Yellowlees is the best. Few things, indeed, are better than the description of his equestrian progression to the feast of the Udaller. Claud Halcro is too fantastical; and peculiarly out of place. we should think, in such a region. A man who talks in quotations from common plays. and proses eternally about glorious John Dryden, luckily is not often to be met with anywhere, but least of all in the Orkney Islands. Bunce is liable to the same objection,-though there are parts of his character, as well as that of Fletcher and the rest of the crew, given with infinite spirit and effect. The denouement of the story is strained and improbable, and the conclusion rather unsatisfactory: But the work, on the whole, opens up a new world to our curiosity, and affords another proof of the extraordinary pliability, as well as vigour, of the author's genius.

"The Pirates" is a bold attempt to furnish out a long and eventful story, from a very narrow circle of society, and a scene so circumscribed as scarcely to admit of any great scope or variety of action; and its failure, in so far as it may be thought to have failed, should, in fairness, be ascribed chiefly to this scantiness and defect of the materials. The author, accordingly, has been obliged to borrow pretty largely from other regions. The character and story of Mertoun (which is at once common-place and extravagant),-that of the Pirate himself, and that of Halcro the poet, have no connection with the localities of Shetland, or the peculiarities of an insular life. Mr. Yellowlees, though he gives occasion to some strong contrasts, is in the same situation. The great blemish, however, of the work, is the inconsistency in Cleveland's character, or rather the way in which he disappoints 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

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our distant readers, as well as to give more force and direct application to our general remarks, we must somewhat enlarge the scale of our critical notice.

This work, though dealing abundantly in invention, is, in substance, like Old Mortality and Kenilworth, of an historical character, and may be correctly represented as an attempt to describe and illustrate, by examples, the manners of the court, and generally speaking, of the age, of James I. of England. And this, on the whole, is the most favourable aspect under which it can be considered; for, while it certainly presents us with a very brilliant, and, we believe, a very faithful sketch of the manners and habits of the time, we I cannot say that it either embodies them in a very interesting story, or supplies us with any rich variety of particular characters. Except King James himself, and Richie Moniplies, there is but little individuality in the personages represented. We should perhaps add Master George Heriot; except that he is too staid and prudent a person to engage very much of our interest. The story is of a very simple structure, and may soon be told.

Lord Glenvarloch, a young Scottish nobleman, whose fortunes had been ruined by his father's profusion, and chiefly by large loans to the Crown, comes to London about the middle of James' reign, to try what part of this debt may be recovered from the justice of his now opulent sovereign. From want of patronage and experience, he is unsuccessful in his first application; and is about to withdraw in despair, when his serving man, Richard Moniplies, falling accidentally in the way of George Heriot, the favourite jeweller and occasional banker of the King, that benevolent person (to whom, it may not be known to our Southern readers, Edinburgh is indebted for the most flourishing and best conducted of her founded schools or charities) is pleased to take an interest in his affairs, and not only represents his case in a favourable way to the Sovereign, but is the means of introducing him to another nobleman, with whose son, Lord Dalgarno, he speedily forms a rather inauspicious intimacy. By this youth he is initiated into all the gaieties of the town; of which, as well of the manners and bearing of the men of fashion of the time, a very lively picture is drawn. Among other things, he is encouraged to try his fortune at play; but, being poor and prudent, he plays but for small sums, and, rather unhandsomely we must own, makes it a practice to come away after a moderate winning. On this account he is slighted by Lord Dalgarno and his more adventurous associates; and, having learned that they talked contemptuously of him, and that Lord D. had prejudiced the King and the Prince against him, he challenges him for his perfidy in the Park, and actually draws on him, in the precincts of the royal abode. This was, in those days, a very serious offence; and, to avoid its immediate consequences, he is advised to take refuge in Whitefriars, then known by the cant name of Alsatia, and understood to possess the privileges of a sanctuary against ordinary ar

rests. A propos of this retirement, we have
a very striking and animated picture of the
bullies and bankrupts, and swindlers and petty
felons by whom this city of refuge was chiefly
inhabited-and among whom the young Lord
has the good luck to witness a murder, com-
mitted on the person of his miserly host. He
then bethinks himself of repairing to Green-
wich, where the court was, throwing himself
upon the clemency of the King, and insisting
on being confronted with his accusers; but
happening unfortunately to meet with his
Majesty in a retired part of the Park to which
he had pursued the stag, ahead of all his at-
tendants, his sudden appearance so startles
and alarms that pacific monarch, that he ac-
cuses him of a treasonable design on his life,
and has him committed to the Tower, under
that weighty accusation. In the mean time,
however, a certain Margaret Ramsey, a daugh
ter of the celebrated watchmaker of that name,
who had privately fallen in love with him at
the table of George Heriot her god-father, and
had, ever since, kept watch over his proceed-
ings, and aided him in his difficulties by va-
rious stratagems and suggestions, had repaired
to Greenwich in male attire, with the roman-
tic design of interesting and undeceiving the
King with regard to him. By a lucky acci-
dent, she does obtain an opportunity of making
her statement to James; who, in order to put
her veracity to the test, sends her, disguised
as she was, to Glenvarloch's prison in the
Tower, and also looses upon him in the same
place, first his faithful Heriot, and afterwards
a sarcastic courtier, while he himself plays
the eavesdropper to their conversation, from an
adjoining apartment constructed for that pur-
pose. The result of this Dionysian experi-
ment is, to satisfy the sagacious monarch both
of the innocence of his young countryman,
and the malignity of his accusers; who are
speedily brought to shame by his acquittal
and admittance to favour.

There is an underplot of a more extravagant and less happy structure, about a sad and mysterious lady who inhabits an inaccessible apartment in Heriot's house, and turns out to be the deserted wife of Lord Dalgarno, and a near relation of Lord Glenvarloch. The former is compelled to acknowledge her by the King, very much against his will; though he is considerably comforted when he finds that, by this alliance, he acquires right to an ancient mortgage over the lands of the latter, which nothing but immediate payment of a large sum can prevent him from foreclosing. This is accomplished by the new-raised credit and consequential agency of Richie Moniplies, though not without a scene of pettifogging difficulties. The conclusion is something tragical and sudden. Lord Dalgarno, travelling to Scotland with the redemption-money in a portmanteau, challenges Glenvarloch to meet and fight him, one stage from town; and, while he is waiting on the common, is himself shot dead by one of the Alsatian bullies, who had heard of the precious cargo with which he was making the journey. His antagonist comes up soon enough to revenge

him; and, soon after, is married to Miss Ramsey, for whom the King finds a suitable pedigree, and at whose marriage-dinner he condescends to preside; while Richard Moniplies marries the heroic daughter of the Alsatian miser, and is knighted in a very characteristic manner by the good-natured monarch.

The best things in the book, as we have already intimated, are the pictures of King James and of Richard Moniplies-though my Lord Dalgarno is very lively and witty, and well represents the gallantry and profligacy of the time; while the worthy Earl, his father, is very successfully brought forward as the type of the ruder and more uncorrupted age that preceded. We are sorely tempted to produce a sample of Jin Vin the smart apprentice, and of the mixed childishness and heroism of Margaret Ramsay, and the native loftiness and austere candour of Martha Trapbois, and the humour of Dame Suddlechops, and divers other inferior persons. But the rule we have laid down to ourselves, of abstaining from citations from well-known books, must not be farther broken, in the very hour of its enactment ;-and we shall therefore conclude, with a few such general remarks on the work before us as we have already bestowed on some other performances, probably no longer so familiar to most of our readers.

We do not think, then, that it is a work either of so much genius or so much interest as Kenilworth or Ivanhoe, or the earlier historical novels of the same author-and yet there be readers who will in all likelihood prefer it to those books, and that for the very reasons which induce us to place it beneath them. These reasons are,-First, that the scene is all in London-and that the piece is consequently deprived of the interest and variety derived from the beautiful descriptions of natural scenery, and the still more beautiful combination of its features and expression, with the feelings of the living agents, which abound in those other works; and next, that the characters are more entirely borrowed from the written memorials of the age to which they refer, and less from that eternal and universal nature which is of all ages, than in any of his former works. The plays of that great dramatic era, and the letters and memoirs which have been preserved in such abundance, have made all diligent readers familiar with the peculiarities by which it was marked. But unluckily the taste of the writers of that age was quaint and fantastical; and though their representations necessarily give us a true enough picture of its fashions and follies, it is obviously a distorted and exaggerated picture and their characters plainly both speak and act as no living men ever did speak or act. Now, this style of caricature is too palpably copied in the work before us, and, though somewhat softened and relaxed by the good sense of the author, is still so prevalent, that most of his characters strike us rather as whimsical humourists or affected maskers, than as faithful copies of the actual Society of any historical period; and though they may afford great delight to such slender

wits as think the commentators on Shakespeare the greatest men in the world, and here find their little archæological persons made something less inconceivable than usual, they cannot fail to offend and disappoint all those who hold that nature alone must be the source of all natural interest.

Finally, we object to this work, as compared with those to which we have alluded, that the interest is more that of situation, and less of character or action, than in any of the former. The hero is not so much an actor or a sufferer, in most of the events represented, as a spectator. With comparatively little to do in the business of the scene, he is merely placed in the front of it, to look on with the reader as it passes. He has an ordinary and slow-moving suit at court-and, a propos of this-all the humours and oddities of the sovereign are exhibited in rich and splendid detail. He is obliged to take refuge for a day in Whitefriars-and all the horrors and atrocities of the Sanctuary are spread out before us through the greater part of a volume. Two or three murders are committed, in which he has no interest, and no other part than that of being accidentally present. His own scanty part, in short, is performed in the vicinity of a number of other separate transactions; and this mere juxtaposition is made an apology for stringing them all up together into one historical romance. We should not care very much if this only destroyed the unity of the piece-but it also sensibly weakens its interest

and reduces it from the rank of a comprehensive and engaging narrative, in which every event gives and receives importance from its connection with the rest, to that of a mere collection of sketches, relating to the same period and state of society.

The character of the hero, we also think, is more than usually a failure. He is not only a reasonable and discreet person, for whose prosperity we need feel no great apprehension, but he is gratuitously debased by certain infirmities of a mean and somewhat sordid description, which suit remarkably ill with the heroic character. His prudent deportment at the gaming table, and his repeated borrowings of money, have been already hinted at; and we may add, that when interrogated by Heriot about the disguised damsal who is found with him in the Tower, he makes up a false story for the occasion, with a cool promptitude of invention, which reminds us more of Joseph Surface and his French milliner, than of the high-minded son of a stern puritanical Baron of Scotland.

These are the chief faults of the work, and they are not slight ones. Its merits do Lot require to be specified. They embrace all to which we have not specially objected. The general brilliancy and force of the colouring, the ease and spirit of the design, and the strong touches of character, are all such as we have have long admired in the best works of the author. Besides the King and Richie Moniplies, at whose merits we have already hinted, it would be unjust to pass over the prodigious strength of writing that distin

guishes the part of Mrs. Martha Trapbois, and between the vulgar gossipping of Mrs. Quickly the inimitable scenes, though of a coarse and in the merry Wives of Windsor, and the revolting complexion, with Duke Hildebrod atrocities of Mrs. Turner and Lady Suffolk ; and the miser of Alsatia. The Templar and it is rather a contamination of Margaret's Lowestoffe, and Jin Vin, the aspiring appren- purity to have used such counsel. tice, are excellent sketches of their kind. | So are John Christie and his frail dame. Lord Dalgarno is more questionable. There are passages of extraordinary spirit and ability in this part; but he turns out too atrocious. Sir Mungo Malagrowther wearies us from the beginning, and so does the horologist Ramsay -because they are both exaggerated and unnatural characters. We scarcely see enough of Margaret Ramsay to forgive her all her irregularities, and her high fortune; but a great deal certainly of what we do see is charmingly executed. Dame Ursula is something

We have named them all now, or nearlyand must at length conclude. Indeed, nothing but the fascination of this author's pen, and the difficulty of getting away from him, could have induced us to be so particular in our notices of a story, the details of which will so soon be driven out of our heads by other details as interesting-and as little fated to be remembered. There are other two books coming, we hear, in the course of the winter; and by the time there are four or five, that is, in about eighteen months hence, we must hold ourselves prepared to give some account of them.

(October, 1823.)

1. Annals of the Parish, or the Chronicle of Dalmailing, during the Ministry of the Ret. Micah Balwhidder. Written by Himself. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 400. Blackwood. Edin.: 1819. 2. The Ayrshire Legatees, or the Pringle Family. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish,” &c. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 395. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1820.

3. The Provost. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," "Ayrshire Legatees," &c. 1 vol. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1820.

4. Sir Andrew Wyllie of that Ilk. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &c. 3 vols. 12mo. Blackwood. Edin.: 1822.

5. The Steam Boat. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &c. 1 vol. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1822.

6. The Entail, or the Lairds of Grippy. Andrew Wyllie," &c. 3 vols. 18mo.

By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," "Sir
Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.

7. Ringan Gilhaize, or the Covenanters. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish,” &c. 3 vols. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.

8. Valerius, a Roman Story. 3 vols. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1820.

9. Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.

1 vol. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1822. 10. Some Passages in the Life of Mr. Adam Blair, Minister of the Gospel at Cross-Meikle. 1 vol. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1822.

11. The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay. By the Author of "Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life." 1 vol. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.

12. Reginald Dalton. By the Author of "Valerius," and "Adam Blair.” 3 vols. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.*

We have been sometimes accused, we observe, of partiality to the writers of our own country, and reproached with helping middling Scotch works into notice, while far more meritorious publications in England and Ireland have been treated with neglect. We take leave to say, that there could not possibly be a more unjust accusation: and the list of books which we have prefixed to this article, affords of itself, we now conceive, the most triumphant refutation of it. Here is a

* I have retained most of the citations in this article-the books from which they are taken not being so universally known as those of Sir Walter Scott and yet deserving, I think, of being thus recalled to the attention of general readers. The whole seem to have been originally put out anonymously:-But the authorship has been long ago acknowledged;-so that it is scarcely necessary for me to mention that the first seven in the list are the works of the late Mr. Galt, Valerius and Adam Blair of Mr. Lockhart-and the Lights and Shadows, and Margaret Lindsay, of Professor Wilson.

set of lively and popular works, that have at-
tracted, and very deservedly, a large share of
attention in every part of the empire-issuing
from the press, successively for four or five
years, in this very city, and under our eyes.
and not hitherto honoured by us with any in-
dication of our being even conscious of their
existence. The causes of this long neglect it
can now be of no importance to explain. But
sure we are, that our ingenious countrymen
have far greater reason to complain of it, than
ration to national partiality.
any aliens can have to impute this tardy repa

The works themselves are evidently too numerous to admit of our now giving more than a very general account of them-and indeed, some of their authors emulate their great prototype so successfully in the rapid succession of their performances, that, even if they had not been so far ahead of us at the starting, we must soon have been reduced to deal with them as we have done with him,

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