it be very like Mr. Fitzgerald or not, however, it must be allowed that the vulgarity, servility, and gross absurdity of the newspaper scribblers is well rendered in the following lines: "Gallia's stern despot shall in vain advance From Paris, the metropolis of France; [Marmont By this day month the monster shall not gain The tree of Freedom is the British oak.'"' The next, in the name of Mr. W. Wordsworth, is entitled "The Baby's Début ;" and is characteristically announced as intended to have been "spoken in the character of Nancy Lake, a girl eight years of age, who is drawn the stage in a child's chaise, by Samuel upon Hughes, her uncle's porter." The author does not, in this instance, attempt to copy any of the higher attributes of Mr. Wordsworth's poetry: But has succeeded perfectly in the imitation of his mawkish affectations of childish simplicity and nursery stammering. We hope it will make him ashamed of his Alice Fell, and the greater part of his last volumes -of which it is by no means a parody, but a very fair, and indeed we think a flattering imitation. We give a stanza or two as a specimen : "My brother Jack was nine in May, "Jack's in the pouts—and this it is, And melts off half her nose!"-pp. 5, 6. Mr. Moore's Address is entitled "The Living Lustres," and appears to us a very fair imitation of the fantastic verses which that ingenious person indites when he is merely gallant; and, resisting the lures of voluptuousness, is not enough in earnest to be tender. It begins: "O why should our dull retrospective addresses Night, pitchy night would envelope the stage. Ah! could I some girl from yon box for her youth pick, I'd love her as long as she blossom'd in youth! Oh! white is the ivory case of the toothpick, But when beauty smiles how much whiter the tooth!" pp. 26, 27. The next, entitled "The Rebuilding," is in name of Mr. Southey; and is one of the best in the collection. It is in the style of the Kehama of that multifarious author; and is supposed to be spoken in the character of one of his Glendoveers. The imitation of the diction and measure, we think, is nearly perfect; and the descriptions quite as good as the original. It opens with an account of the burning of the old theatre, formed upon the pattern of the Funeral of Arvalan. Grazier and brazier, Thro' streets and alleys pour'd, And wonder at the blaze."-pp. 29, 30. There is then a great deal of indescribable intriguing between Veeshnoo, who wishes to rebuild the house through the instrumentality of Mr. Whitbread, and Yamen who wishes to prevent it. The Power of Restoration, however, brings all the parties concerned to an amicable meeting; the effect of which, on the Power of Destruction, is thus finely represented:: "Yamen beheld, and wither'd at the sight; Long had he aim'd the sun-beam to control, For light was hateful to his soul: Go on, cried the hellish one, yellow with spleen; Go on, cried the hellish one, yellow with spite; Thy toils of the morning, like Ithaca's queen, I'll toil to undo every night. The lawyers are met at the Crown and Anchor, And Yamen's visage grows blanker and blanker. The lawyers are met at the Anchor and Crown, And Yamen's cheek is a russety brown. Veeshnoo, now thy work proceeds! The solicitor reads, And, merit of merit! Are fix'd at the foot of the deeds!" pp. 35, 36. Drury's Dirge," by Laura Matilda, is not of the first quality. The verses, to be sure, are very smooth, and very nonsensical-as | venturously assumed by the describer. After was intended: But they are not so good as the roof falls in, there is silence and great conSwift's celebrated Song by a Person of Qua-sternation:lity; and are so exactly in the same measure, and on the same plan, that it is impossible to avoid making the comparison. The reader may take these three stanzas as a sample: "Lurid smoke and frank suspicion, "See the bird of Ammon sailing, Perches on the engine's peak, Soothes them with its bickering beak." "A Tale of Drury," by Walter Scott, is, upon the whole, admirably executed; though the introduction is rather tame. The burning is described with the mighty Minstrel's characteristic love of localities: "Then London's sons in nightcap woke! For shouts were heard 'mid fire and smoke, The Playhouse is in flames!' And lo! where Catherine Street extends, To every window pane : Blushes each spout in Martlet Court, A bright ensanguin'd drain; And Richardson's Hotel."-pp. 46, 47. The mustering of the firemen is not less meritorious : "The summon'd firemen woke at call His nether bulk embrac'd; In tin or copper traced. "When lo! amid the wreck uprear'd Gradual a moving head appear'd, And Eagle firemen knew 'Twas Joseph Muggins, name rever'd, The foreman of their crew. Loud shouted all in sign of woe, 'A Muggins to the rescue, ho!' And pour'd the hissing tide: He tottor'd, sunk, and died! Serv'd but to share his grave! Where Muggins broke before. Still o'er his head, while Fate he brav'd, pp. 50-52. The rebuilding is recorded in strains as characteristic, and as aptly applied : Didst mark, how toil'd the busy train With trowel and with hod."-pp. 52, 53. "The Beautiful Incendiary," by the Honourable W. Spencer, is also an imitation of great merit. The flashy, fashionable, artificial style of this writer, with his confident and extravagant compliments, can scarcely be said to be parodied in such lines as the following: "Sobriety cease to be sober, Cease labour to dig and to delve ! One thousand eight hundred and twelve! Oh, no! 'tis the pride of the Park, Those bright burning-glasses contain, eye Along the pavement paced."-p. 48. The procession of the engines, with the badges of their different companies, and the horrible names of their leaders, is also admirable-but we cannot make room for it. The account of the death of Muggins and HigginOf Lady Elizabeth Mugg! bottom, however, must find a place. These "Fire and Ale," by M. G. Lewis, is not are the two principal firemen who suffered on less fortunate; and exhibits not only a faiththis occasion; and the catastrophe is describ-ful copy of the spirited, loose, and flowing ed with a spirit, not unworthy of the name so versification of that singular author, but a very just representation of that mixture of extravagance and jocularity which has impressed most of his writings with the character of a sort of farcical horror. For example : The fire king one day rather amorous felt; His breeches and boots were of tin; and the belt With the heat of the copper colt's belly. Sure never was skin half so scalding as his! When an infant, 'twas equally horrid, For the water when he was baptiz'd gave a fizz, And bubbl'd and simmer'd and started off, whizz! As soon as it sprinkl'd his forehead. Oh then there was glitter and fire in each eye, For two living coals were the symbols; His teeth were calcin'd, and his tongue was so dry It rattled against them as though you should try To play the piano in thimbles."-pp. 68, 69. The drift of the story is, that this formidable personage falls in love with Miss Drury the elder, who is consumed in his ardent embrace! when Mr. Whitbread, in the character of the Ale King, fairly bullies him from a similar attempt on her younger sister, who has just come out under his protection. And again : "Thus with the flames that from old Drury ris "The Theatre," by the Rev. G. Crabbe we rather think is the best piece in the col lection. It is an exquisite and most masterly imitation, not only of the peculiar style, b: of the taste, temper, and manner of descrip tion of that most original author; and can hardly be said to be in any respect a caricature of that style or manner-except in the excessive profusion of puns and verbal jingles -which, though undoubtedly to be ranked among his characteristics, are never so thicksown in his original works as in this admirable imitation. It does not aim, of course, at We have next "Playhouse Musings," by Mr. Coleridge-a piece which is unquestion-any shadow of his pathos or moral sublimity: but seems to us to be a singularly faithfe ably Lakish-though we cannot say that we recognise in it any of the peculiar traits of copy of his passages of mere description. It that powerful and misdirected genius whose begins as follows:name it has borrowed. We rather think, however, that the tuneful Brotherhood will consider it as a respectable eclogue. This is the introduction: 46 My pensive Public! wherefore look you sad? I had a grandmother; she kept a donkey To carry to the mart her crockery ware, And when that donkey look'd me in the face, His face was sad! and you are sad, my Public! Joy should be yours: this tenth day of October Again assembles us in Drury Lane. Long wept my eye to see the timber planks That hid our ruins: many a day I cried Ah me! I fear they never will rebuild it! Till on one eve, one joyful Monday eve, As along Charles Street I prepar'd to walk, Just at the corner, by the pastry cook's, I heard a trowel tick against a brick! I look'd me up, and strait a parapet Uprose, at least seven inches o'er the planks. Joy to thee, Drury! to myself I said, He of Blackfriars Road who hymn'd thy downfal In loud Hosannahs, and who prophesied That flames like those from prostrate Solyma Would scorch the hand that ventur'd to rebuild thee, Has prov'd a lying prophet. From that hour, As leisure offer'd, close to Mr. Spring's Box-office door, I've stood and eyed the builders." pp. 73, 74. Of "Architectural Atoms," translated by Dr. Busby, we can say very little more than that they appear to us to be far more capable of combining into good poetry than the few lines we were able to read of the learned Doctor's genuine address in the newspapers. They might pass, indeed, for a very tolerable imitation of Darwin;-as for instance :"I sing how casual bricks, in airy climb Encounter'd casual horse hair, casual lime; How rafters borne through wond'ring clouds elate, Kiss'd in their slope blue elemental slate! Clasp'd solid beams, in chance-directed fury, And gave to birth our renovated Drury." pp. 82, 83. "Tis sweet to view from half-past five to six, 66 "At first, while vacant seats give choice and ease. Distant or near, they settle where they please; But when the multitude contracts the span, And seats are rare, they settle where they can. Now the full benches, to late comers, doom No room for standing, miscall'd standing room. Hark! the check-taker moody silence breaks. And bawling Pit full,' gives the check he takes.” pp. 116, 117. The tuning of the orchestra is given with the same spirit and fidelity; but we rather choose to insert the following descent of a playbill from the upper boxes: "Perchance, while pit and gallery cry, hats off,' p. 118. The quaintness and minuteness of the following catalogue, are also in the very spirit of the original author-bating always the undue allowance of puns and concetti to which we have already alluded: "What various swains our motley walls contain! Fashion from Moorfields, honour from Chick Lane; Bankers from Paper Buildings here resort, Bankrupts from Golden Square and Riches Court; The lottery cormorant, the auction shark, pp. 118, 119. We shall conclude with the episode on the loss and recovery of Pat Jennings' hat-which, if Mr. Crabbe had thought at all of describing, we are persuaded he would have described precisely as follows: [mine. Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat, But, leaning forward, Jennings lost his hat; Down from the gallery the beaver flew, And spurn'd the one to settle in the two, How shall he act? Pay at the gallery door Two shillings for what cost when new but four? Now, while his fears anticipate a thief, John Mullins whispers, take my handkerchief. Thank you, cries Pat, but one won't make a line; Take mine, cried Wilson, and cried Stokes take A motley cable soon Pat Jennings ties, Where Spitalfields with real India vies; Like Iris' bow, down darts the painted hue Starr'd, strip'd, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue. Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new. George Greene below, with palpitating hand, Loops the last kerchief to the beaver's band: Upsoars the prize; the youth with joy unfeign'd, Regain'd the felt, and felt what he regain'd; While to the applauding galleries grateful Pat Made a low bow, and touch'd the ransom'd hat." The Ghost of Samuel Johnson is not very good as a whole: though some passages are singularly happy. The measure and solemnity of his sentences, in all the limited variety of their structure, is imitated with skill;-but the diction is caricatured in a vulgar and unpleasing degree. To make Johnson call a door "a ligneous barricado," and its knocker and bell its "frappant and tintinabulant appendages," is neither just nor humorous; and we are surprised that a writer who has given such extraordinary proofs of his talent for finer ridicule and fairer imitation, should have stooped to a vein of pleasantry so low, and so long ago exhausted; especially as, in other passages of the same piece, he has shown how well qualified he was both to catch and to render the true characteristics of his original. The beginning, for example, we think excellent : "That which was organised by the moral ability of one, has heen executed by the physical effort of many; and DRURY LANE THEATRE is now complete. Of that part behind the curtain, which has not yet been destined to glow beneath the brush of the varnisher, or vibrate to the hammer of the carpenter, little is thought by the public, and little need be said by the committee. Truth, however, is not to be sacrificed for the accommodation of either; and he who should pronounce that our edifice has received its final embellishment, would be disseminating falsehood without incurring favour, and risking the disgrace of detection without participating the advantage of success. 'Let it not, however, be conjectured, that because we are unassuming, we are imbecile; that forbearance is any indication of despondency, or humility of demerit. He that is the most assured of success will make the fewest appeals to favour; aud where nothing is claimed that is undue, nothing that is due will be withheld. A swelling opening is too often succeeded by an insignificant conclusion. Parturient mountains have ere now produced muscipular abortions; and the auditor who compares incipient grandeur with final vulgarity, is reminded of the pious hawkers of Constantinople, who solemnly perambulate her streets, exclaiming, 'In the name of the prophet-figs!'"'-pp. 54, 55. It ends with a solemn eulogium on Mr. Whitbread, which is thus wound up : "To his never-slumbering talents you are indebted for whatever. pleasure this haunt of the Muses is calculated to afford. If, in defiance of chaotic malevolence, the destroyer of the temple of Diana yet survives in the name of Herostratus, surely we may confidently predict, that the rebuilder of the temple of Apollo will stand recorded to distant posterity, in that of-SAMUEL WHITBREAD." pp. 59, 60. Our readers will now have a pretty good idea of the contents of this amusing little volume. We have no conjectures to offer as to its anonymous author. He who is such a master of disguises, may easily be supposed to have been successful in concealing himself;-and with the power of assuming so many styles, is not likely to be detected by his own. We should guess, however, that he had not written a great deal in his own character-that his natural style was neither very lofty nor very grave-and that he rather indulges a partiality for puns and verbal pleasantries. We marvel why he has shut out Campbell and Rogers from his theatre of living poets;-and confidently expect to have our curiosity in this and in all other particulars very speedily gratified, when the applause of the country shall induce him to take off his mask. (December, 1828.) Euvres Inédites de Madame la Baronne de Staël, publiées par son Fils; précédées d'une Notice sur le Caractère et les Ecrits de M. de Staël. Par Madame NECKER SAUSSURE. Trois tomes. 8vo. London, Treuttel and Wurtz: 1820. We are very much indebted to Madame Necker Saussure for this copious, elegant, and affectionate account of her friend and cousin. 93 It is, to be sure, rather in the nature of a Panegyric than of an impartial biography—and, with the sagacity, morality, and skill in com 3M 2 position which seem to be endemic in the society of Geneva, has also perhaps something of the formality, mannerism, and didactic ambition of that very intellectual society. For a personal memoir of one so much distinguished in society, it is not sufficiently individual or familiar-and a great deal too little feminine, for a woman's account of a woman, who never forgot her sex, or allowed it to be forgotten. The only things that indicate a female author in the work before us, are the decorous purity of her morality-the feebleness of her political speculations-and her never telling the age of her friend. here as in other instances; and rather think the worthy financier must be contented to be known to posterity chiefly as the father of Madame de Staël. But however that may be, the education of their only child does not seem to have been gone about very prudently, by these sage personages; and if Mad. de Staël had not been a very extraordinary creature, both as to talent and temper, from the very beginning, she could scarcely have escaped being pretty well spoiled between them. Her mother had a notion, that the best thing that could be done for a child was to cram it with all kinds of knowledge, without caring very much whether it understood or digested any part of it; and so the poor little girl was overtasked and overeducated, in a very pitiless way, for several years; till her health became seri ously impaired, and they were obliged to let her run idle in the woods for some years longer-where she composed pastorals and tragedies, and became exceedingly romantic. She was then taken up again; and set to her studies with greater moderation. All this time, too, her father was counteracting the lessons of patient application inculcated by her mother, by the half-playful disputations in which he loved to engage her, and the display which he could not resist making of her lively talents in society. Fortunately, this last species of training fell most in with her disposition; and she escaped being solemn and pedantic, at some little risk of becoming forward and petulant. Still more fortunately, the strength of her understanding was such as to exempt her almost entirely from this smaller disadvantage. The world probably knows as much already of M. and Madame Necker as it will care ever to know: Yet we are by no means of opinion that too much is said of them here. They were both very good people-neither of the most perfect bon ton, nor of the very highest rank of understanding, but far above the vulgar level certainly, in relation to either. The likenesses of them with which we are here presented are undoubtedly very favourable, and even flattering; but still, we have no doubt that they are likenesses, and even very cleverly executed. We hear a great deal about the strong understanding and lofty principles of Madame Necker, and of the air of purity that reigned in her physiognomy: But we are candidly told also, that, with her tall and stiff figure, and formal manners, "il y avoit de la gêne en elle, et auprès d'elle;" and are also permitted to learn, that after having acquired various branches of knowledge by profound study, she unluckily became persuaded that all virtues and accomplishments might be learned in the same manner; and accordingly set herself, with Nothing, however, could exempt her from might and main, "to study the arts of conver- the danger and disadvantage of being a youthsation and of housekeeping-together with ful Prodigy; and there never perhaps was an the characters of individuals, and the manage-instance of one so early celebrated, whose ment of society to reduce all these things celebrity went on increasing to the last period to system, and to deduce from this system of her existence. We have a very lively picprecise rules for the regulation of her con- ture of her, at eleven years of age, in the duct." Of M. Necker, again, it is recorded, work before us; where she is represented as in very emphatic and affectionate terms, then a stout brown girl, with fine eyes, and that he was extraordinarily eloquent and ob- an open and affectionate manner, full of eager serving, and equally full of benevolence and curiosity, kindness, and vivacity. In the drawpractical wisdom: But it is candidly admit-ing-room, she took her place on a little stool ted that his eloquence was more sonorous beside her mother's chair, where she was than substantial, and consisted rather of well- forced to sit very upright, and to look as derounded periods than impressive thoughts; mure as possible: But by and by, two or that he was reserved and silent in general three wise-looking oldish gentlemen, with society, took pleasure in thwarting his wife round wigs, came up to her, and entered into in the education of their daughter, and actu-animated and sensible conversation with her, ally treated the studious propensity of his as with a wit of full age; and those were ingenious consort with so little respect, as to Raynal, Marmontel, Thomas, and Grimm. At prohibit her from devoting any time to com- table she listened with delighted attention to position, and even from having a table to all that fell from those distinguished guests; write at!-for no better reason than that he and learned incredibly soon to discuss all submight not be annoyed with the fear of dis-jects with them, without embarrassment or turbing her when he came into her apart- affectation. Her biographer says, indeed, that ment! He was a great joker, too, in an innocent paternal way, in his own family; but we cannot find that his witticisms ever had much success in other places. The worship of M. Necker, in short, is a part of the established religion, we perceive, at Geneva; but we -suspect that the Priest has made the God, she was "always young, and never a child;" but it does seem to us a trait of mere childishness, though here cited as a proof of her filial devotion, that, in order to insure for her parents the gratification of Mr. Gibbon's society, she proposed, about the same time, that she should marry him! and combated, with |