[No. 73, April 3, 1830.]

ADVERTISEMENTS,

Connected with Literature, Science, and the Arts.

Just published, price 5s. boards, TWO ESSAYS:

I. ON THE ASSURANCE OF FAITH; II. ON THE EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT AND UNIVERSAL PARDON.

By RALPH WARDLAW, D.D.

"A desire to have Scripture on our side, is one thing; and a sincere desire to be on the side of Scripture, is another."-WHATELY. Glasgow: BLACKIE, FULLARTON, & Co., and WARDLAW & Co.; A. FULLARTON & Co., and JOHN WARDLAW, Edinburgh; W. F. WAKEMAN, Dublin; HAMILTON & ADAMS, London; and all other Booksellers.

SPLENDID EDITIONS.
CHEAPNESS AND PORTABILITY.
Just published,

And sold by Messrs CONSTABLE and Co., AINSWORTH'S LATIN DICTIONARY,

In one volume, Imperial 8vo, price L. 1, 11s. 6d. Stereotyped without abridgement from the original folio Edition of 1752, with numerous additions, emendations, and improvements,

By the Rev. B. W. BEATSON, Esq. M.A.
Fellow of Pembroke College, Cambridge,
Revised and Corrected

By WILLIAM ELLIS, Esq., M.A., of King's College, Aberdeen. Encouraged we trust by the deserved success of the edition of Johnson's Dictionary, in one large 8vo volume, we have here its Latin counterpart-a publication on which we do not hesitate to bestow our most unqualified praise. Ainsworth's has always been, what it merited, a popular Thesaurus; and for ready reference to the student, none better could be constructed. There were, however, as there must be in all works of the kind, many errors, either original, or such as had crept in through careless reprinting; and we are glad to see a multitude of these rectified by the industry and judgment of the

MR GLEIG'S NEW WORK.

In 2 vols. post 8vo,

DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

ments have been effected-retrenchment of what was obselete unnecessary, and amplification where the nature of the explanations required it. Altogether (and we have looken carefully through many intricate examples to enable us to give this honest opinion), altogether we can most unreservedly recommend this volume as one of the best guides to early classical attainments, and also one of the completest Latin Dictionaries that has ever courted public favour."-Literary

Gazette.

JOHNSON'S DICTIONARY.

Complete in one Volume, price L.2, 2s. in cloth.

A DICTIONARY of the ENGLISH LANGUAGE, in which the Words are deduced from their originals, and illustrated in their different Significations by Examples from the best Writers; to which are prefixed, a History of the Language, and an English Grammar.

By SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. Stereotyped verbatim from the Last Edition corrected by the Doctor. "This Edition of Johnson's Dictionary, stereotyped verbatim from the last folio Edition, corrected by the Doctor," is eminently deserving of notice for its accuracy, the beauty of its typography, and the character of its arrangements."-Literary Gazette.

"As a specimen of Typographical Art, the Work before us is a splendid contribution to our Libraries. It unites elegance, durability, exquisite accuracy, and convenience of form, in a manner altogether unprecedented."-Monthly Review.

HENRY'S BIBLE COMPLETE.

In three handsome volumes, Imperial 8vo, price £3, 15s. in Cloth, AN EXPOSITION

OF

THE OLD AND NEW TESTAMENT;

BY MATTHEW HENRY, V.D.M.

To which is prefixed, the MEMOIRS of the LIFE, CHARACTER, and WRITINGS of the Author.

By J. B. WILLIAMS, Esq. F.S.A.

"It may almost seem presumptuous to venture upon any recommendation of the greatest English commentator on the Holy Scriptures; and having recently expressed a decided opinion as to the merits of Matthew Henry's Bible, it is quite unnecessary to repeat former commendations. This we will say, that every man ought to possess this great man's Commentary who can afford it. With this feeling strongly fixed in our minds, we are truly glad to introduce to our readers an edition of this extraordinary work, which, in compactness and economy, far surpasses every former attempt; and which demonstrates the ingenuity and taste of the enterprising printer who has supplied a desideratum so worthy of the age. The public are greatly indebted to the man who thus places a valuable and expensive work within the reach of persons of ordinary means. The Life prefixed to this edition is the one lately furnished by Mr Williams, a descendant of Matthew Henry's family, and a sincere lover of all nonconformist memorials. The printer and the publisher have our warmest thanks."-Evan. Mag.

This Edition is also published in Parts, at 3s. each, and may be taken periodically, at the convenience of Purchasers; and for the further accommodation of the public, this Work may be had in weekly Numbers, at Is. each. Sold by all Booksellers in the United Kingdom. London: JOSEгH OGLE ROBINSON, 42, Poultry.

Fourth Lecture this day, in the Hopetoun Rooms, Queen Street, at two o'clock.

LECTURE IV.

The Stage capable of being made a vehicle for highly instructive and rational amusement-The great School of Elocution strikingly exemplified in the instance of Demosthenes-Too great importance attached to the action of the Drama-Analysis of the quarrel of Brutus and Cassius-Defective action of Hamlet-Mr Kean's reading of the scene with Ophelia-Dramatic excellence consists in the subserviency of Poetry to the delineation of character and passion, and in the subserviency of these to the incidents and situations of a Play -Character of Hamlet-Danger of the dramatist's allowing the consideration of his characters to be superseded by the ambition of showing off himself-Anecdote of a dramatist-Cant of a certain class of modern critics-Poetical Language-Monosyllabic Poetry-Figure -Burial of Sir John Moore-Battle of Hohenlinden-Bruce's Address to his army-The Field of Waterloo.

LECTURE V.

Fitness the best criterion of excellence in dramatic compositionMarc Antony's Oration-Erroneous reading of certain passages in it -Poetry founded in nature-Mixed character of Shakspeare's Drama -Romeo and Mercutio-Juliet and the Nurse-The Grave-digger's scene in "Hamlet" -The Drama not to be regulated by abstract Principles-Prejudices of Critics and Managers-Anecdote of Mr Kean-Unity of Action-Defective Plot of The Merchant of Venice"-Climax of Action-Defective Plot of" Julius Cæsar"-Importance of preserving the Individuality of characters-Passion the grand ingredient of the Drama-Shakspeare the master of Passion-Familiar character of his diction, illustrated in the speeches of

Lady Macbeth, Juliet, and Shylock-His fidelity to nature in his most imaginative flights-Henry the Fourth's Soliloquy on Sleep.

LECTURE VI.

Analysis of the first act of "Macbeth"-Happy union of the 10mantic with the historical-Importance of exciting and keeping up the expectation of the audience-Propriety of immediately proposing the subject-Powerful opening of Macbeth"-Art with which Shakspeare increases the interest which he excites for his hero-Macbeth's interview with the Witches-Gross absurdity in the manner of representing these characters-The Master apparent at every step of the Plot-Its still increasing interest-Striking instance of Shakspeare's fine discrimination in preserving the individuality of his characters-His portrait of Lady Macbeth-Mrs Siddons's personation of that character-Lady Macbeth's invocation-Erroneous criticism of Sir Joshua Reynolds, with respect to the design of the sixth sceneShakspeare's discrimination again, in the conduct of his Plot-Erroneous manner of delivering Macbeth's Soliloquy, in the seventh scene-Dialogue between him and Lady Macbeth-Mr Macready's Macbeth-Conclusion.

Single Ticket, 3s. fd.-Double Ticket, 5s. 6d.-To be had of Messrs CONSTABLE & Co. 19, Waterloo Place; Mr MILLER, Prince's Street; at the Hopetoun Rooms; and at Mr KкOWLES'S, Sword's Lodgings, 33, North Hanover Street.

Doors open at One o'clock, the Lecture to commence precisely at Two.

The FIFTH LECTURE will be delivered on Monday the 5th, and the SIXTH on Wednesday the 7th, in the Hopetoun Rooms.

No. 74.

TO OUR READERS.

HERE is as pleasant a number of the Literary Journal as one could wish to read on an April day. We have taken advantage of a temporary dearth of new works of interest, to supply our friends with an assortment of miscellaneous articles on various subjects,some grave, and some gay,-some instructive, and some amusing, but all possessed of a degree of merit rarely met with in any other periodical now existing. If there be any one who turns away in morose dissatisfaction from the perusal of this sheet of royal octavo, we can only say of him, in the words of Shakspeare, "Let no such man be trusted."

He

"By St Agatha! I believe there is something in the shape of a tear in those dark eyes of mine, about which the women rave so unmercifully," said the young Fitzclarence, as, after an absence of two years, he came once more in sight of his native village of Malhamdale. stood upon the neighbouring heights, and watched the curling smoke coming up from the cottage chimneys in the clear blue sky of evening, and he saw the last beams of the setting sun, playing upon the western walls of his father's old baronial mansion, and, a little farther off, he could distinguish the trees and pleasure-grounds of Sir Meredith Appleby's less ancient seat. Then he thought of Julia Appleby, the baronet's only child, his youthful playmate, his first friend, and his first love; and as he thought of her, he sighed. I wonder why he sighed When they parted two years before, sanctioned and encouraged by their respective parents, (for there was nothing the old people wished more than a union between the families,) they had sworn eternal fidelity, and plighted their hearts irrevocably to each other. Fitzelarence thought of all this, and again he sighed. Different people are differently affected by the same things. After so long an absence, many a man would, in the exuberance of his feelings, have thrown himself down upon the first bed of wild-flowers he came to, and spouted long speeches to himself out of all known plays. Our hero preferred indulging in the following little soliloquy :-"My father will be amazingly glad to see me," said he to himself;" and so will my mother, and so will my old friend the antediluvian butler Morgan ap-Morgan, and so will the pointer-bitch Juno, and so will my pony Troilus;-a pretty figure, by-the-by, I should cut now upon Troilus, in this gay military garb of mine, with my sword rattling between his legs, and my white plumes streaming in the air like a rainbow over him! And Sir Meredith Appleby, too, with his great gouty leg, will hobble through the room in ecstacy as soon as I present myself before him ;

PRICE 6d.

-and Julia-poor Julia, will blush, and smile, and come flying into my arms like a shuttlecock. Heigho!—I am a very miserable young officer. The silly girl loves me; her imagination is all crammed with hearts and darts; she will bore me to death with her sighs, and her tender glances, and her allusions to time past, and her hopes of time to come, and all the artillery of a love-sick child's brain. What, in the name of the Pleiades, am I to do? I believe I had a sort of penchant for her once, when I was a mere boy in my nurse's leading-strings; I believe I did give her some slight hopes at one time or other; but, now-O! Rosalind! dear-delightful"

Here his feelings overpowered him, and pulling a miniature from his bosom, he covered it with kisses. Sorry am I to be obliged to confess that it was not the miniature of Julia.

"But what is to be done?" he at length resumed. "The poor girl will go mad; she will hang herself in her garters; or drown herself, like Ophelia, in a brook under a willow. And I shall be her murderer! I, who have never yet knocked on the head a single man in the field of battle, will commence my warlike operations by breaking the heart of a woman. By St Agatha! it must not be; I must be true to my engagement. Yes! though I become myself a martyr, I must obey the dictates of honour.

Forgive me, Rosalind, heavenliest object of my adoration! Let not thy Fitzclarence”

Here his voice became again inarticulate; and, as he winded down the hill, nothing was heard but the echoes of the multitudinous kisses he continued to lavish on the little brilliantly-set portrait he held in his hands.

Next morning, Sir Meredith Appleby was just in the midst of a very sumptuous breakfast, (for, notwithstanding his gout, the Baronet contrived to preserve his appetite,) and the pretty Julia was presiding over the tea and coffee at the other end of the table, immediately opposite her papa, with the large long-eared spaniel sitting beside her, and ever and anon looking wistfully into her face, when a servant brought in, on a little silver tray, a letter for Sir Meredith. The old gentleman read it aloud; it was from the elder Fitzclarence : "My dear friend, Alfred arrived last night. He and I will dine with you to-day. · Yours, Fitzclarence.”---Julia's cheeks grew first as white as her brow, and then as red as her lips. As soon as breakfast was over, she retired to her own apartment, whither we must, for once, take the liberty of following her.

She sat herself down before her mirror, and deliberately took from her hair a very tasteful little knot of fictitious flowers, which she had fastened in it when she rose. One naturally expected that she was about to replace this ornament with something more splendid-a few jewels, perhaps ; but she was not going to do any such thing. She rung the bell; her confidential attendant, Alice, answered the summons. "La! Ma'am," said she, "what is the matter? You look as ill as my aunt Bridget."—" You have heard me talk of Alfred Fitzclarence, Alice, have you not?" said the lady, languidly, and at the same time slightly blushing. "O! yes, Ma'am, I think I have. He was to be married to you before he went to the wars."

found among the cypresses and yews of Père la Chaise, yet it was there alone, in all the vicinity of Paris, that the approach of early spring could yet be discovered. To this burying-ground, therefore, I resolved to pay a visit. A month or two later, and the varied heights of Saint Cloud, the enchanted labyrinths of Versailles, the purpled walks of Fontenay-aux-Roses, or the yet more lovely vale of Montmorency, where nature revels fancy-free, might have attracted my steps. But in the beginning of March, the only visitable spot is that one seemingly least suited to excite pleasurable emotions. For me, this crowded place of repose (which has been so often written about) ever has a fresh interest. Never have I entered it, without feelings of sadness; never have I left it, without being more reconciled to change, less heedful of worldly things. The sleep of death here seems so sweet-the living pass through this abode of the departed with such a reverential tread-that one feels not hurt by the thought of its being, perhaps at no distant period, his last restingplace. Some complain that there is too much of show, too much of ornament-but the care taken by the living in tending the frail flowers planted round the graves, | which I have often seen watered by burning tears, is surely more consoling to those who may soon require such fond service, than if the sepulchre were at once abandoned. May not the departed soul look complacently on the friend who guards the sod that covers the earthly tabernacle it so lately tenanted? Nor is it a mere show of grief that is here exhibited, for no one can have often visited Père la Chaise, without witnessing sorrow the most poignant: tears, bitter as ever flowed, sobs from the very heart, are the tribute frequently paid on the grave of some lamented friend. Oft in passing through this impressive scene, has my sympathy been excited, on finding a lonely mourner by the side of a newly-covered grave. Such instances-I have met many of them-completely removed from my mind any objection I might at first have had to the seemingly ostentatious display here made of the regret felt by the living. Nothing can be more painful than the sight of a man in tears, yet I have involuntarily arrested my steps, on seeing the bereaved father shedding floods of tears on his son's cold grave. That worst of agonies, tearless grief, has also struck my attention; and the very want of this" vain dew" but excited | a stronger compassion. During my early visits, I frequently saw a female of elegant appearance, clad in the deepest mourning, leaning on a nameless tombstone. Day after day she took up her sorrowful watch. Grief was imprinted on every feature, yet not a sob was heard, not a tear seemed to roll along her parched cheek. I never passed the spot, without thinking how appropriately the language of Hermione would have sounded from her lips:

"I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are;
but I have

That honourable grief lodged here, which burns
Worse than tears drown."

That

That these exhibitions of genuine sorrow are not numerous, I am willing to admit; but the occurrence of a few such cases might suffice to remove the impression, which is too general in this country, that every thing in French burial-grounds is" got up" for show. much of the frippery and mere neatness of Père la Chaise is the work of the florist or of the stonemason, cannot be denied; but to see there a single case of unfeigned sorrow, is enough to sanctify it in the eyes of a stranger. To my having beheld there such scenes, may be owing much of the melancholy pleasure I always felt in visiting his unusual place of resort. On the present occasion, I had an additional inducement, from having as a companion one who had long wished to accompany me thither. Born beneath an eastern sky, the varying climate of Europe, to which she was removed at a very early age,

The ravages of dis

had seriously impaired her health. ease, however, extended not to her vigorous mind. Her spirits were frequently as light, her laugh as free, as if pain had never visited her gentle frame. Accomplished, and, like Wordsworth's "conspicuous flower,"

"Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised," she was thought to enjoy all that could make life pass happily. But even in those moments when stranger's believed her most to be envied, the canker-worm was at work within. This, too, she herself knew well, and the saddening conviction would bring a cloud upon her brow even in the gayest hour. Often did she retire to weep while the circle she had delighted was yet loud in her praise, or envied that cheerfulness which could enliven the most saturnine. She feared that her numbered days were soon to be exhausted. I had tried to remove this impression, but all my efforts were vain. After being some time in Paris, she became more than ever persuaded that the struggle could not long be supported. Repeatedly did I reason on the subject, but she grew daily more fixed in her first belief, and, anxious to select a spot where her remains might be interred, often urged me to go with her to my favourite burying-ground. Fearful that so near a contemplation of the realities of death might be too much for weak nerves, I used every argument to dissuade her from making the attempt, but at last had prómised to accompany her thither as soon as the opening of a milder season should render exposure to the air less dangerous.

The spring at Paris dawns most sweetly. Some of its early days are perhaps the finest, certainly the most delightful, of the whole year; and on one of these did we drive to the melancholy scene we had long proposed to visit. The sky was partially clouded, but only so much as to excite that not unpleasant anxiety which enhances our enjoyment of a fine day. The air was so light as scarce to weigh perceptibly on those just escaped from the severities of a frosty winter; and the feeling of awe ever experienced on entering a place connected with so many solemn thoughts, gradually subsided into a pleasant melancholy as we began to climb the declivity on which stands the simple chapel. Our task was less difficult than I had usually found it at the close of winter. Instead of being covered with heavy clay, which frequently renders them impassable, the well-beaten footpaths were firm to our tread. We passed from tomb to tomb, pau. sing now by that of some warrior who had once filled the ear of terror-struck Europe, but here occupying as little space as the obscure citizen who passed through life without fame, and died without having done aught by which his name might be remembered; now arresting our step beside the last home of one who had reached the extremest stage of human existence, and a few paces farther contrasting his fate with that of some infant recorded to have parted with life before encountering those trials humanity must endure. At one time we lingered by the grave of the artist, who had made the world forget the obscurity of his birth, by the commanding influence of genius; at another we hurried by that of one who had disgraced his high rank by vices the most base. Here we met with the last record of one who had died in the midst of numberless friends;-there stood a monument to him who had expired a stranger amongst strangers, with scarce a voice to soothe him in his last hour. One stone was dedicated to the memory of two sisters, who died within a few weeks of each other. As if separation had been insupportable; the younger had fallen a victim to the violence of that affection

"which bade them be
True to each other, as on the sea

Two loving birds, whom a wave may divide,
But who float back soon to each other's side."

Amid all this havoc, amid all these proofs of Death's