Can there be anything more trashy than this. Even in the interview between the king and his son, which might have given scope to something like passionate feeling, we have the same miserable monotony of yes and no dialogue, interspersed with the same frothy declamation and vexed metaphor. It is really impossible to single out a page, or even a passage that rises to mediocrity, though we have not paraded the most ridiculous portions. Mark the Noodle and Doodle style of Act. IV.—Scene II. :— "Osorio. "Tis strange!-Don LuisCarlos. Don Luis was invited to assist In this unnatural treachery, where the father ACT II.-SCENE I. continued. [Enter King Phi- Plotted his son's destruction, but he shrunk lip.] Cordoba retires. "Philip. Don Carlos, 'tis with heavy grief Philip. Softly, my son. Carlos. By Heaven, not so. Philip. Nay, interrupt me not. If it be thus, This threat of spectral forms, and the Ill do you know, must of course freeze up the boiling indignation of the Prince, and he simply puts in his disclaimer to all unfilial hankerings after his father's crown. From horrors so Satanic. Osorio. Did he, indeed? Carlos. He did indeed: what means that Osorio. Nay, prince, I know not. The stain he has contracted; and to-night He comes with friends in arms to save my life. Carlos. Indeed! Indeed! Had you been there, &c. &c. &c. This may be certainly selected as an apt illustration of the art of sinking, in poetry. The malicious reader would perhaps be gratified by more extracts, especially from the concluding act, but we abstain from the cruelty of further selections. Lord John, like Fielding, and many others, evidently curses "Carlos. Oh! far from me is lust of that sad the fellow "who invented fifth acts." Poison power: I hate it all. Philip. If truly, 'tis with reason. &c. &c. and the dagger, the old-fashioned aids, come to the rescue and do the business; but, contrary to Aristotelian law, they do it before Carlos. I know not what means your Ma- the audience, and Don Carlos and Don Luis jesty. Philip. Listen, Don Carlos! Your honored grandsire, when a manly beard While to his empty treasury a new world &c. die in most appropriate confusion. Unfit as the tragedy clearly is for the stage, we can find no merits that fit it for the closet. There is not a vestige of poetical feeling, not a single passage that rises above common-place, not a character or creation in the whole dramatis persona. They are mere automata; a more undignified, pitiful puppet than Philip, could not be walked through five acts of any play; nor a more puling, characterless personage than Don Carlos, whose mawkish sentimentality would overpower even a boarding-school Miss of the last generation. The Queen is a mere piece of pageantry, a walking gentlewoman, whose yes" and "no" are often in the wrong place; while Valdez, the arch intriguer and supposed mover of the pieces, who is to conduct the check-mate, is a mere cut-and-dried specimen of the old hacknied rogue of a hundred penny stories. There is throughout a palpable attempt at dignity and elevation of style, by a lavish use of metaphor, of which the noble lord seems to have a kind of hortus siccus; but which he so mixes and involves that they make a perfect jumble of images, | and the radical idea is completely lost sight of, in the tangled heap of metaphorical excrescences. The noble littérateur has decidedly made a "fiasco;" he has, with all his incubation, produced a wind-egg. We are sensible of the greatness of the effort, we see the straining of the wires, and hear the creaking of the pulleys, and have a strong sense of smelling tallow and rosin-but no illusion. Plenty of rant aud fustian, but “no storming of the breast, or holding enthralled the sense;" "there is all the contortion of the Sybil without the inspiration, all the nodosity of the oak without the firmness;" and we only come to the conclusion, that the owlets who fancied themselves eagles, are a breed by no means extinct. The last three lines of this "doleful mystery" must, we think, have been added by the same satirical wag who had a hand in fixing on the title; and who probably knowing the sensibility of the noble author's feelings on literary matters, slyly depicts the anguish the noble lord would feel (no doubt has felt) at rushing into print, and neglecting the wise Horatian maxim, nonum prematur in annum.” "May this sad story [play ?] rest forever secret; Vain hope! in one short day I have destroyed My peace of conscience, and my hope of fame." Memoirs of Europe from the Peace of Utrecht. The work upon which Lord John Russell has clearly be stowed the most pains, and which appears in the imposing form of a quarto, notwithstanding the misgiving of the noble author's alter ego, Joseph Skillet, as to the expediency of such a form, and hints of the vulgarity of the vice of writing quarto works about nothing, is "The Memoirs of Europe from the Peace of Utrecht," 2 vols. 4to. 1824. Fourth edition. 1826. There is some craft, however, in being voluminous, for voluminous authors have a warrant for occasional dullness, and the most severe readers make allowance for many rests and nodding places in quarto volumes, which would be fatal to the author in octavo. This principle, however, must be sparingly used, for, though history, it is true, " quoque modo scripta delectat," the interest springing out of the subject itself will only secure that author from oblivion whose mediocrity is shieldmonopoly of being the only chronicler of his time. This monopoly the noble lord does not enjoy, and he must have been prepared to encounter the difficulty of "lend ed by ing fresh interest to an oft-told tale." Unless he succeeded in doing this, his work, as he knew, would be regarded as a pure literary superfetation. Not that we can point to any eminently successful productions of this class among our countrymen. Memoir writing does not appear to be so well suited to the genius of the English as of the French character; and when lacking the esprit fringant," the shaping spirit of imagination, which our neighbors contrive to throw into their most trivial works, it drops down into a mere dry compilation of fragmentary documents, seasoned, perhaps, with obsolete stories and resuscitated anecdotes, a species of annotated chapter of the historical accidents of a period a kind of dropsy of history. The fourth edition would seem to imply success, and the fame of the noble premier secured; but as nearly all of the noble lord's works have been invested with the same honor, we must decline this as any very searching test of excellence. If the end of fame, however, "is but to fill a certain portion of uncertain paper," then the noble author's exertions have been crowned with success. In the Introduction, (for the noble writer loves Introductions,) there is no inconsiderable parade of erudite research and quasi philosophical deduction; but it is the parade of a very school-boy in both cases, and in the most slovenly method. A very few extracts will suffice to illustrate our meaning. [Page 1, Introduction.] "The communities of modern Europe are distinguished from those of ancient times by many broad and conspicuous marks; among these there is none more remarkable, or which more forcibly arrests the attention of the historian, than the difference of the mode in which the characters of ancient and modern nations have been formed. Ancient cities falling al once into political society, and requiring forms of government to hold them together, were obliged to appoint some one person or body of persons, to frame regulations for the conduct of general affairs, and the maintenance of order. These early legislators, finding themselves thus called upon to prescribe the institutions of an infant state, extended their directions to everything which might influence the well-being of the commonwealth; manners, dress, food, amusements, became an object of public care for punishment or reward. The members of these communities thus became attached to the peculiar customs of their city; and, when attacked by a foreign enemy, they defended themselves with the more vigor and only of liberty, but of all the habits of their lives, perseverance, as conquest implied the loss, not endeared to them by long prescription and by legislative sanction." [Page 42 Introduction.] In a disquisition on the kingly character, under a limited monarchy, the noble writer tells us :— "In the society of men who are utterly insignificant on the score of rank and fortune, the sovereign imagines he may unbend securely; no familiarity on his part can raise them to substantive importance, and no liberties which they assume in moments of ease, can prevent his reducing them by a nod to their original nothingness. Hence an Emperor of the world loves the society of the kitchen, and willingly endures vulgarity with which a proud noble would disdain to mingle. Hence, likewise, his mind is continually perverted by the interested representations of low courtiers, who naturally instil into him a jealousy of those whose industry and prudence have raised them to the situation of his ministers, and whose knowledge gives them an advantage over him in every discussion of state affairs. If he is allowed to have his own way, he removes from his councils every one whose eminence mortifies his pride. He confides his kingdom to the guidance of minions, whose rule is disguised in the shape of flattery; and while he is indulging their avarice and ambition, he thinks his own maudlin majesty the object of the veneration of the whole world." [Page 27. The Reformation.] "There is a period in the history of Europe when every commotion on its surface was occasioned by one cause, deeply seated like the internal fire that is supposed to have produced the earthquake at Lisbon; and, like it, breaking out with violence in one place, and making itself felt in every part of the globe. This cause was the Reformation. From 1520 to 1649 the Reformation was the great lever of Europe. From that time the violence of the convulsion abated, but its influence continued to be perceptible till the accession of the House of Hanover in England, and the alliance of George I. and the regent Duke of Orleans. The Reformation and the French Revolution may be regarded as the great stations from which future historians will date the events of modern history. At first sight, perhaps, it may appear that either of these two general changes might have happened before the other. It may seem that a philosopher who was speculating with views beyond those of his time in the middle of the fifteenth century, on the consequences of the discovery of printing, might as well predict that a great struggle would take place between kings and their people for the cause of arbitrary or limited monarchy, as that great innovations would be made in religion. Indeed, in some respects, the former might seem much the more likely of the two. The authority of the temporal sovereign had been more frequently disputed than that of the Pope, and in the laws and customs of all nations were to be found the principles of a representative government. The reasons why the spiritual despotism was the first shaken off are, however, many and mighty." The reader will require a long pause over the involved phraseology of the preceding paragraph to collect the ideas intended to be conveyed, and appreciate their metaphorical and logical consistency. He is to understand of a certain period in the past, that it both is and was. That the Reformation was a subterranean fire, converted into a "great lever." That this lever produced violent convulsions in Europe, and prepared the way for the French Revolution. That the lever of the Reformation and the French Revolution then became two stations, or points of observation in the landscape of history; and that these "stations" (space and time being confounded) are chronological epochs, of which the one could not well, for certain weighty reasons, have come before the other. These memoirs present a kind of Mosaic of the noble author's defects, metaphor and moralizing predominating; and if we speak out we are bound to pronounce them hasty yet heavy, presumptuous though shallow. At one time, with seven-league boots, striding over centuries, and despatching the whole rise and progress of European society, from the savage state to the polished times of romance, ab ovo usque ad malum" in one page; at other times creeping along through half a volume in the discussion of pure trivialities. If ever Sterne's comparison of bookmaking were borne out, viz., "a pouring out of one vessel into another," here is the instance: but the noble author contrives at the same time to shake up the sediment of each in his operation, and instead of filtering or purifying, muddies the whole mixture. The internal evidence of unconscious contradictions is so strong as to remind one of Lord Shaftesbury's satire upon "spouters," "that it would be a belying of the age to put so much good sense together in any one speech as to make it hold out steadily and with plain coherence for a quarter of an hour." There seems a positive incapacity to follow out a single paragraph with logical consistency, and in proportion as the idea itself is indefinite and ill conceived the language is vague and unmeaning. "For if the mind with clear conceptions glow, The willing words in just expression flow." Unfortunately the conceptions of Lord John Russell are anything but clear; and we must allow the truth, while we are ashamed of the ingratitude, of Professor Von Reaumer's criticism of his patron, who must feel, with tenfold force, the unkind return of his protégé, as we believe he is the only foreigner who ever noticed Lord John's literary produc 66 tions, that he wrote as if previous to the discovery of all logic, vor die erfindung aller rhetorik." The Establishment of the Turks in Europe; an Historical Essay, with Preface. Murray. Pp. 128. 12mo. 1828. In 1828 Lord John appears again upon the stage as an essayist; we say Lord John, for though this literary bantling came into the world without paternal acknowledgment, it has been since duly acknowledged. Indeed the impress of the paternal lineaments was so strong that little difficulty arose in the process of affiliation. Professedly, it treats of "The Establishment of the Turks in Europe;" but the connection of the title with the work actually before us is even less discoverable than in other of the noble author's productions. It exhibits but a very shallow acquaintance with the institutions of Turkey and the East, either religious or political. There are many gross blunders, mixed up with gossiping stories. The premier views with a rather favorable eye the doctrines of Mahomet; indeed, appears to look with some degree of relish upon the Mussulman's Paradise. It has one merit, viz., brevity: it is in 12mo.; and the same plea urged by the unfortunate mother of a very diminutive and fatherless baby in extenuation of her fault, that it was a very little one, may here be offered in abatement of critical severity. A short extract or two must suffice. "The meanest Turk might treat the highest Christian with contempt and insult. A Mussulman seeing a Greek seated in his shop might call him forth and make him load his baggage horse or perform any other menial service: the oldest and most venerable Greeks might openly be struck and buffeted by the youngest and lowest Mahometans, all with impunity. The practice of carrying arms leads to the prompt indulgence of every passion. And it may well be imagined what was the condition of men in the constant presence of masters who have pistols at their belts and swords by their sides. The limbs and even the lives of the Greeks were at the mercy of every gust of passion, and they were maimed or murdered with less forethought [compunction ?] than the mildest rebuke is given by an English magistrate. These are the things, which, borne quietly by dastard souls, sink deep in the minds of a people who begin to have a sense of shame or honor. These are the injuries, which, long suffered and long unresented, are yet entered in the great book of a nation, and are at length repaid with a vengeance not less full or less cruel than the wrongs they hate endured." The chief of the police at Constantinople and other great towns goes round in the day time and at night, and executes immediately the sentence he gives. If a baker is found selling his bread by a light weight, he is hanged before his door. If any one is apprehended on the spot where a disturbance takes place, he is instantly despatched, the fraud is hanged instead of the actual rioter. no matter if the apprentice who knew nothing of The purpose is to create terror to the guilty even by shedding the blood of the innocent, and the crime is punished when the criminal escapes." These are samples of the slip-slop flippant style, the crambe recocta from old travellers' tales, which Lord John dignifies with the title of an historical discourse, and offers as an account of the government of Turkey for more than 300 years. The Causes of the French Revolution. 66 The The year 1832 afforded another proof of the noble Proteus's literary industry, in a book on The Causes of the French Revolution;" a more flagrant instance of the "lucus a non lucendo," no title ever furnished. It might as well be styled causes of the Chinese war. introductory chapter, from which we have made our extract, promises much; a wide field of inquiry: but it is in fact a mere gossiping book about Voltaire, Rousseau, and the court of Louis, with some anecdotes of the principal skeptics of the age, their writings and coteries. It abounds in the same prurient style of metaphor, in which it is as natural for Lord John to write as for fish to swim. C. i. "The word 'Revolution,' which was associated in the days of our ancestors with events so fortunate, and has inspired so much terror in our own, is applied to changes totally dissimilar in character. When Brutus expelled the Tarquins from Rome, a family was banished, and the office of king was abolished; but the senate retained its authority, and the breach in the constitution was filled by the election of two consuls, who held for a year the greater part of the authority which had before been exercised for life by a royal head. In modern times, when the Dutch rose against their Spanish masters, kingly supremacy was done away but the chief persons of the country were called, without confusion, to the government of the state. So when the English revolted in 1688, and the Americans nearly a century afterwards, the powers which had been abused were taken away from one person, but were transferred, with new engagements and restrictions, to others, who naturally and easily succeeded to the confidence their predecessors had forfeited. But the French Revolution is a revolution of another kind. It led rapidly to that which we often speak of, but scarcely ever see, namely, anarchy. All that had previously formed a title to respect became an object of proscription; neither wealth, nor station, nor character, nor law, nor even the revolutionary governments | kinds of pine and fir, selected with the assistance themselves, had any permanent influence with of Philip Miller, and thinned by his own care. the people. The state was left to the guidance Indeed, on this last point an anecdote has been of men who would for ever have remained ob-related by my father characteristic of his disposiscure, had they not become eminent in crime. tion. In the year 1743, the duke planted the large The ruling assembly was converted into an arena, plantation in Woburn Park, known by the name where each gladiator trod in the blood of his com- of the Evergreens,' to commemorate the birth of rades; and when his turn came his fall was ap- his daughter, afterwards Caroline, Duchess of plauded with as much savage delight as that of Marlborough. The space was something more his antagonist had been but a few moments be- than 100 acres, and was before that time a rabfore. bit-warren producing nothing but a few blades of grass, with the heath or ling indigenous to the soil, and without a single tree upon it. "It is our purpose, however, not to describe the French Revolution, but to inquire into its causes. The singular spectacle of deeds so cruel, in the midst of a nation so polished, must excite the mind to observe and reflect. The duty of the historian requires more than a lamentation over the horrors of this terrible period; nor will it be enough to show that reforms quietly accomplished would have been better than a violent convul "In making these inquiries, it is no part of our business to justify those who overthrew the monarchy. No one accustomed to calm reasoning can allow that the popular voice is an infallible rule for the guidance of measures of state; but although the people are conducted by leaders to the choice of wise or pernicious remedies, it is not to be denied that they are seldom mistaken as to the existence of grievances. Let us observe, then, the conduct of the king, the nobility, and clergy, let us inquire in what manner the government acted upon the condition of the nation. When we have thus ascertained the nature of the evil, it will be instructive to visit the sources of public opinion; to weigh the merits of the political and moral philosophers who foretold a change, and who pointed out the road to arrive at it. Never was a nation more prepared for revolution by previous discussion; never did a nation in revolution wander so much without chart or compass, through stormy seas, in darkness and in danger.' "Neque semper arcum tendit Apollo." From 1832 to 1842, the noble littérateur relaxed his literary bow, and gave himself to rumination, probably refreshing himself for a more vigorous assault on the temple of fame. "On ne recule que pour mieux sauter." The production of 1842, is, however, a very humble flight. "Correspondence of John, fourth Duke of Bedford," selected from Originals at Woburn Abbey, 3 vols. ; each volume ushered in by a prosy Introduction. The dull duty of an editor admits of little scope for talent; but we cannot avoid recognizing a certan fitness in the noble lord to fill the place of gentleman-usher to an author's club. The nature of the Introduction may be judged by one specimen, an anecdote of the duke. "Besides building, the Duke of Bedford took a warm interest in planting. The evergreen drive, at Woburn, was planted by him with various "In the course of a few years, the duke, perceiving that the plantation required thinning, in order to admit a freer circulation of air, and give health and vigor to the young trees, he accordingly gave instructions to his gardener, and directed him as to the mode and extent of the thinning required. The gardener paused and hesitated, and at length said, 'Your Grace must pardon me if I humbly remonstrate against your orders, but I cannot possibly do what you desire: it would at once destroy the young plantation, and, moreover, it would be seriously injurious to my reputation as a planter.' The duke replied, ' Do as I desire you, and I will take care of your reputation.' The plantation was consequently thinned according to his instructions, and the duke caused a board to be fixed in the plantation facing the road, on which was inscribed, This plantation has been thinned by John, Duke of Bedford, contrary to the advice and opinion of his gardener.' 66 ་ Lord John takes care to add, that the said plantation, which the noble duke so gallantly thinned, has been pronounced by Mr. Forbes, in his "Pinetum Woburnense," as "unequalled by any other plantation in the kingdom, which may be chiefly attributed to the judicious thinning applied to that plantation when De minimis non curat lex." Not young. so Lord John: no matter is too petty to occupy his notice; even trimming up a plantation, to record the triumph of a Duke of Bedford over his gardener. Swift says, "No man ever made an ill figure who understood his own talents, nor a good one who mistook them." How fares it with LORD JOHN RUSSELL? Has he achieved the " yvwo σEAUTOV," or has he mistaken his vocation in attempting to add a literary reputation to his hereditary honors? The list of his works denotes sufficient activity. We have |