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442 REVIEW.-St. Cuthbert.-Tales of the Great St. Bernard. [Nov.

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Tales of the Great St. Bernard. 3 vols.
Colburn.

IT is to the varied talents of the author of Salathiel that we owe these vo

lumes. Of this brilliant performance we predicted a few months ago, that having in itself the essential principle of buoyancy, it would be borne triumphantly down the stream of time among the few works of imagination which the world "will not willingly let die." The present Tales are of a less ambitious character, but in each the same master mind is visible, and all partake of the same master hand, The very faults of Mr. Croly arise from the copiousness of his eloquence, and the exuberant richness of his imagination. In his oriental pictures in particular, the glowing hues of his fancy, and the resplendent creations of his genius, almost bewilder with "excess of light," and we could sometimes wish that in compassion to weaker spirits who are unable to cope with his brightness, it could be said of him, "Deposuit radios propriusque accedere jus

sit."

Mr. Croly is already distinguished

ed in a superior form to that of a newspaper paragraph. The present work and its plates give to the subject an historical dignity, justly its due; and where knowledge is acquired, benefit is conferred; where curiosity is grati fied, recollection is sweet.

among the most imaginative of our poets; he has given full proof of his elegance, his depth, and his acumen, as a biblical critic, and of his eloquence as an historian; of his works of fiction we have already spoken; and yet even amidst this prodigality of talent, we feel disposed to think that his purest ore is yet to come. We have seen enough in the value of that which he has produced to judge of that which remains, and we are persuaded that a deeper and richer mine of thought will one day be worked, of the pure gold of which, if we may pursue our metaphor, we may see vessels framed and fashioned for the service of true religion, dedicated to the holiest uses of the Christian sanctuary, and more worthy of admiration, than aught that glittered in that temple, whose ceremonies have passed away.

But our immediate business is with

the Tales of St. Bernard. By one of those sudden and capricious changes in the weather, which converts the sumthe horrors of winter, the Hospice of mer beauty of the Alps at once into St. Bernard was lying under an immense avalanche, "the gathered snow

1828.]

REVIEW.-Tales of the Great St. Bernard,

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of half a century," and travellers of all nations and of both sexes were congregated within its hospitable walls. It is by this slight frame-work that the various tales are connected; but slight as it is, it is very naturally and beautifully got up. In the dearth of occupa tion during their involuntary imprisonment, some occasional sentiment escapes, which leads to the narration of a story; and as the Tales have been certainly written previously to the slight sketches by which they are introduced, there is considerable ingenuity in the process of dovetailing. Of the first, the Englishman's tale, entitled "The Woes of Wealth,' we would say that, ably as it is written, it is a decided caricature; it describes an accumulation of miseries heaped upon one bare head, the unnecessary consequence of an accession of fortune, and provokes the most incontroulable laughter. The exaggeration is that of the broadest farce-there are materials sufficient for twenty farces; and our poor heads are yet aching from the breathless rapidity with which we have been whirled through scenes of such overpowering excitement. We recominend the tale to be read by instalments, if the reader would avoid the convulsions into which we have been thrown, -and yet in the midst of all that is overwrought, there is much just and caustic satire on modern men and modern manners,-much honest exposure of the meanness, hypocrisy, and profligacy, of that life which is called fashionable, many a keen and biting jest at pretenders of all classes, and at the insincerity, the humbug (if we may use so familiar a word), which pervades the whole mass of society; and then the style in which the unfortunate possessor of wealth relates the changes from bad to worse, it is in the happiest vein of pleasantry giving to ordinary occurrences an effect that is irresistibly ludicrous.

But it is in the Wallachian's Tale of "Hebe," that the author has put forth his strength. It occupies one third of the whole, and is a splendid effort, combining the most poetical imagery with the ablest graphic delineations of manners, country, and costume. It describes what has been deemed the most affecting object in nature, the courage of a timid woman, who, from the noble impulse of gratitude, endures and overcomes trials and dangers

443

which might appal the bravest man; and this too by one of the noblest rank, and accustomed to the elegancies of life. Hebe, though a heroine of the highest class, is still within the pale of human sympathies, and no less extorts our love by a gentleness that is feminine, than she commands our admiration by an energy that is heroic. The weapons of her warfare are exactly adapted to the exigencies of the case; she is firm and stedfast and enduring, meek and humble, patient and resigned, looking for strength in the hour of peril to that source from whence the woman's feebleness becomes the armour of safety, and laying hold with Christian firmness on the support of the God in whom she trusts.

The scene of this splendid Tale is laid partly in the city of Bucharest, the capital of Wallachia, and partly at Constantinople, supplying ample inaterials for those splendid panoramic views, of which the author of these volumes knows how to make the best use. We will not attempt to give an outline of the story, which could but weaken its effect on the minds of those into whose hands it shall fall. We will content ourselves with a few specimens of its beauties, by which our readers may judge for themselves; but we will observe, in passing, that this single Tale exhibits a depth of research, an elegance of taste, and habits of just and profound thinking, which. redeem the page of fiction from its ordinary grade of literary rank, and place it amongst the historical records by which national habits and manners are preserved. Its beauty as a story of powerful interest is thus wonderfully increased, and the eloquent passages in which the regeneration of Greece is anticipated, contrasted with many seenes of touching pathos and gentle repose, throw a charm around the whole, which is irresistibly attractive.

The following passage exhibits Hebe under the influence of her first sorrow the uncertain fate of a lover to whom but for a few hours she had been betrothed.

"The mourner rose. The tears still would gush; but higher feelings made them calm; and she thought of hopes before which the reverses of life are mists before the Sun. She withdrew to her chamber, and there in solitude sought on her knees that peace of heart which is nowhere else to be found.

444

REVIEW.-Tales of the Great St. Bernard.

The troubles of a wavering cabinet, and a disturbed country, day by day still more occupied Cantacuzene's time. But the search for Theodore was unremitted and fruitless. Months passed in alternate hope and disappointment. Hebe shunned society, but her powerful understanding showed her the idleness of intemperate grief.

"She wept and prayed, and was patient. Theodore was in all her thoughts; but she had given up the hope of ever seeing him again. He was to her as the image of the dead; a being of memory that excluded all others from her love. Her passion was profound and melancholy, but sacred; less for one still struggling through the trials of life, than for one of the freed and lofty dwellers in a world where human suffering cau intrude no more.

"Woman may be a fickle thing; but it is where the captivation is of her fancy, not of her heart. Where she has formed the image in the play and wandering of her fine sensibilities, the same spell which called up the vision can lay it at its will; as the same breeze which shapes the cloud into fantastic beauty, gan sweep it away into nothingness. All that is of gay caprice perishes, and is made to perish. It builds the bower, and rears the altar, and grows weary of both; the course of nature does the reststrips the bower of its blossoms, and melts away the altar. But woman is capable of an infinitely more profound, solemn, and enduring quality-true passion. Instead of being the birth of the sportive and frivolous, it belongs wholly to the more powerful minds. It is no factitious fire, sparkling and playing before the eye, to pass away in the glitter of the hour; but an intense, deep-seated, and inextinguishable principle, which, as wisdom or weakness guides, may be the source of all that is noble and vigorous in the human character, or the instrument of utter ruin; a moral volcano, whose fire may be the hidden fount of luxuriance and beauty to all upon the surface, or may display its wild strength in consuming and turning it into barrenness for ever."

The conflagration of a forest is a vivid picture.

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"But by Allah,' he exclaimed, ' what is here?' A cloud of smoke swelled up from the brushwood. "Have they set the forest on fire?' His conjecture was true; the main body of the cavalry had already rode up to the skirts of the wood, and checked by the risk of entering where the continued clamour gave them the idea of a larger force than they had expected to meet, took the summary method of driving the game into the plain, by burning their cover.

"The ground, heaped with fuel, dry from the heat of the weather, soon blazed like a furnace. The oaks and pines, loaded with the creeping plants and unctuous excres

[Nov.

cences of unchecked growth, were soon solid pillars of fire; and the roar of fight was buried in the wilder roar of the universal flame.

"The havoc was not the less for the cessation of the sword. Hundreds of horsemen, in their impatience to share the plunder, had dashed into the thickets, and the crowd, row at once entangled by the intricacy of the ground, and blinded by the intense smoke, were being crushed by the trees as they fell, or blasted by the intolerable flame. The fire darted and whirled through the forest on all sides, until the plain began to share the conflagration; where the grass and weeds, as combustible as touchwood, carried it on with fearful rapidity.

"The bodies of cavalry which had hithesto remained on the watch for the fugitives, now found themselves forced to move, and the starting of their unmanageable horses at the scorching heat, and the masses of suffocating smoke that rolled on them, made it equally difficult to advance or retreat. Some broke through the circle of fire, and escaped. But the chief portion were totally enveloped. The smoke, in vast billows, burst over and bewildered them, until their retreat was cut off by flames shooting along the ground with swiftness and breadth of sheets of lightning. The only enemy now was the fire, and it was a tremendous one. All was confusion, shouts, and groans; horses dashing against and overthrowing each other, and soldiers struggling and trampled under their feet; or flying with mantles and turbans on fire through the defiles, until their strength failed, and they lay for the kites, wolves, or some torrent to close their career.

*

"As they reached the verge of the forest, where danger was to be apprehended again, the Albanian stopped to reconnoitre; and Hebe cast an involuntary glance on the spot where she had so lately expected to be intombed.

"Her eye was fixed by its unspeakable grandeur. The fire had long since devoured the copse and other incumbrances of the ground; the trunks of the trees stood upright, but black, and cleared of every lower branch and weed. Among the matted foliage of the summits, thick enough of old to shut out the light of day, the fire still raged; but it raged as in a solid vault of flame; there were no fantastic quiverings and playings of the blaze; it was the sullen magnificence of an endless roof of red hot iron. Colossal pillars, spreading in a thousand vistas; the ground cleared of all but the burning wreck of the soldier and his steed; and vault on vault above, red with concentrated flame; to her eye, it might have made a matchless temple of the Pagan deity of fire, or the more fearful king of evil."

1828.]

REVIEW.-Englishman's Almanack.—Time's Telescope. 445

They enter Constantinople.

"The chaloupe shot out from under a high, wooded promontory, which had for some time concealed the city. 'See,' said he, the illumination of the Bairam; Constantinople in its glory!'

"And it was in its glory. Every spot on which a light could be hung was in a blaze. The great central ridge which crosses the city from east to west, showed the mosques on its seven hills, seven gigantic diadems of every coloured fire. Chains of lamps were swinging from the countless minarets. The

sea,

roofs below were bright with torches, and bursts of fireworks of the most singular of the most singular brilliancy perpetually rose in the air. "As the chaloupe ran in from the it swept close under the brow of a cape covered with buildings, mingled with tall cypresstrees. Over the gate which opened from the inclosure to the sea, were hung ranges of immense bones, looking ghastly in the illumination.

• Could

"See those skeletons,' said the caloyer, with a groan of wrath and woe. the moslemin have chosen a fitter emblem? Within those battlements,- under your glance at this moment, lies the most fearful spot on earth: the seat of the most habitual horrors; the scaffold that has drunk the most blood; the grave that has teemed thickest with regicide; the tribunal that has crushed with the fiercest recklessness the rights, feelings, capacities, and virtues of man; the throne of utter and essential tyranny.'

"Hebe glanced up at the huge mass of buildings that, covered as they were with lights, still looked sullen and wild; and, in the whisper of terror, pronounced the seraglio!'

The little episode of the boatman of the Danube, and the Neapolitan ambassadress, are exquisite sketches, although we feel them to be interruptions to the interest of the story.

(To be continued.)

The Englishman's Almanack for 1829. THE Company of Stationers have long enjoyed an almost perfect monopoly of Almanacks; but they have never, as has been unjustly imputed to them, attempted to crush any similar publications that were brought forward with sentiments of liberal rivalry. On the contrary, they have generally united their interests with the fortunate projectors, and thus the various tastes of all ranks and classes have been suited.

"Moore's Almanack Improved," "The Clerical Almanack," and "The Clergyman's Almanack," were each

adopted by the Company, after the plans on which they are compiled had been approved by the public. About a twelvemonth since, a most unjustifiable attack was made on the Company of Stationers, as introductory to the puff direct of an Almanack, then first published under the recommendation of a powerful party. The Company have wisely answered the call for improvement in a most honourable way, by the compilation of an entirely new Almanack; and we congratulate plished his object, by presenting to the editor on having so well accomthe public an annual, containing "in a small compass, much useful, interesting, and diversified information."

The great improvement in the Calendar, is the introduction, under each week, of the Fhenomena of Animated Nature, and the Phenomena of Vegetable Nature. For these we conceive the editor to be chiefly indebted to the literary labours of Dr. T. Forster. The work to be done in the "garden and farm," is much more fully detailed than hitherto usual. Among many other useful tables, now for the first time introduced into an Almanack, are "Rules for the Guidance of Friendly Societies," and for "Societies for Widows' Pensions;" and Hackney Coach and Watermen's Fares.

Time's Telescope for 1829; or, a complete Guide to the Almanack. With numerous Engravings on Wood, from Drawings by eminent Artists. 12mo. pp. 420.

THIS most useful, if not the most ornamental of all the annuals, like Christmas, comes but once a year; yet, like the monthly rose, it will be found in blossom all the year round. Hi therto the editor and publishers, relying on its intrinsic merits, have forborne to decorate it with external and adventitious ornament; and the absence of this captandum vulgus, has perhaps rendered the volumeless known than it deserved to be. They have at length, however, discovered that in this book-making age, modest merit may be jostled aside, or buried in the crowd of more assuming competitors for public favour, if it boast not some other. attraction than what is afforded by intellect, taste, or judgment. The charmer "may charm never so wisely," if he have not some pretty pictures to show, for these

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And a page or two after is this representation of the ancient Font in Stepney Church..

In recording the battle of Waterloo, a representation is given of the cannon taken at Alexandria, and now in St. James's Park; and representations of the Regalia, under the date of the Coronation of his present Majesty. When naming the fire of London, some very curious engravings of old

houses are introduced; - under Lord Mayor's Day, we find the City Arms; in the Life of the Bishop of Lincoln and Winchester, is a fine view of the west front of Lincoln Cathedral;-and in the biography of Mr. Planta, late principal librarian of the British Museum, is an excellent representation of that national edifice, rendered more valuable by the certainty of its giving place, in a few years, to the more elegant and classical structure planned by Mr. Smirke. From the sketch of Mr. Planta's useful life, we cannot refuse to extract a deserved tribute to his worthy successor at the Museum.

"In the appointment of Mr. Planta's successor (Henry Ellis, esq.) his present Majesty has displayed that tact and discrimination for which he is so justly distinguished in matters of taste and literature; for whom could his Majesty have selected so well qualified to fill the important and highly responsible office of Principal Librarian to the British Museum as the learned Editor of the valuable Series of Letters illustrative of English History, who had devoted five-and-twenty years of his life to the service of that establishment, of which he is now, by his Majesty's favour, the able and efficient president? Long may he continue to fill this honourable post, and to de

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