His parents, his friends, his attendants, all hang aloof, dismayed at the very idea of such a forfeiture-the young wife stands forth in the serene fortitude of hallowed affection, and redeems her spouse from the shades of hell, even by the sacrifice of her own existence. This, we allow, has some resemblance to that feeling which later poets have so loved to paint; but even this has reference to wedded affection, not to the hopes, the fears, the rapture, and the vanity of unrequited, or even of requited, love. This, however, is not the only singularity, which an accurate survey can discover, in that branch of the tree of wisdom which is now before our eyes. Another is the strange notion of destiny, which prevails more or less in the effusions of all, though more strongly insisted on by the elder duo, Eschylus and Sophocles. Both of these, especially delight in painting the struggles of lofty, and in many cases virtuous minds, vainly struggling in the web of a destiny, to which the gods themselves were subject. The utter impotency of man, the total absence of free-will, are the constant text from whence they have wrought out the most extraordinary deductions. Orestes is compelled by the oracle of Apollo-himself a blind agent in the hands of necessity-to slay his mother Clytemnestra; avenging, by this parricide, the blacker crimes

"Of her, the homicide and husband-killer."

Hardly is the destined deed performed, before the last extremity of punishment inflicted on the guilty dead, is recked on this hapless slave of fate, by the visible presence of the torturing Eumenides. In like manner, it is predicted before the birth of Ædipus, that he shall murder his father, and wed his mother. With all the loathing of a pure spirit, with all the energies of an exalted understanding, he strives against the idea of such atrocity; and by the very avoidance of those, whom he has been led to deem the authors of his being, he is led into the commission of that "crime which he doth most abhor," and incurs, not the compassion, but the hatred, of both men and gods.

This destiny it is, which furnishes such variety of fearful incidents, and moving horrors, in the royal races of Pelops and of Labdacus; and which have given so wide a field to both Eschylus and Sophocles whereon to exercise the former his gloomy spirit, delighting in terror and bloodshed, and holding the souls of his audience—not in

"Willing chains and blest captivity"—

by the influence of the horrible and supernatural, unmixed with aught of love or pity;-the latter to display those dignified sentiments, that stately harmony of verse, that high-minded pathos, by which he earned the title— most tragic of the bards of Greece.

Being conscious that we have already extended this article, far beyond our usual limits; trusting to the importance of our subject, no less than to that fascination, which has never ceased to attract all hearts and eyes to the antiquities, the records,-the monuments,-and the muse of ancient Greece; we have thought it more advisable to separate from these protracted reflections, two slight specimens of the Greek chorus, which we had resolved to set before our readers, even at the hazard of incurring censure; for defects similar to those, which-according to the inherent weakness of our nature-we can perceive readily enough in the translations of VOL. 1.

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others,-while, in our own, they are concealed from our sight, by the dazzling obscurity of an author's self-gratulation.

Taking all this into consideration, we have transferred the passages, which we had selected for this purpose-a choral hymn relating to the oftentold, but never exhausted, tale of Troy's destruction, from the 889th line of the Hecuba; and a dirge chaunted over the body of the heroine, from the 448th of the Alcestis of Euripides-to subsequent pages of the present number; and now, unwillingly, we are compelled to bring our labors to their close, nor, as we withdraw our hand from the plough, can we forbear to gaze with regret on the wide expanse of rich soil which we must leave unturned. Happy if, by any exertion of ours, we shall have induced even one mind to seek for the pure waters of poetry, in their purest and most limpid well; thrice happy, if these slight considerations may lead some aspiring youth to venture upon the first step of that path, which shall eventually conduct him to the attainment of erudition, and to the loftiest summits of virtuous ambition.

Asmodeus at Large, by the author of Pelham, Eugene Aram, &c. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea and Blanchard. 1833.

عد

"SHALL I ever finish these papers? I intended to conclude them with the new year; but wherefore? they suit one month as well as anothertheir subjects always vary-nothing can be more dissimilar than two several numbers of the series, touching on all subjects, exhausting none. These papers fulfil for the 'New Monthly,' the same objects as the 'Noctes' fulfil for 'Blackwood's; and, like the 'Noctes,' therefore, may be continued while the world continues to furnish matter for criticism or comment." If it be lawful-which by the way we beg leave to doubtto liken great things to small, then is it permitted to compare "Asmodeus at Large," to the "Noctes Ambrosianæ ;" the former combining with the most brilliant play of fancy, and the most vivid coruscations of wit, a power of criticism unsurpassed by the gravest-an insight into the motives of human action, possessed by few even of the deepest among modern casuists-a system of political economy, the liberality of which must be no less admired by the philanthropist, than its truth must be envied by the statesman, and its utility acknowledged by all sorts and conditions of men. The latter strong in invective, feeble in argument-fluent in words, but sparing of facts-liberal of misrepresentation and falsehood, niggardly of truth, and entirely void of candor or impartiality!-The one marching hand in hand with knowledge and power, the other vainly struggling against the march of reason and of liberty !—The one directing the current of popular opinion, not to injustice and spoliation, but to a sense of those blessings for which our fathers bled-to a perception of the good things which are actually possessed, and to a desire for those which are still denied to the increasing wants and growing intelligence of the multitude ;— addressing itself to the understandings, rather than to the passions of menand ready, no less to curb the excesses of the turbulent, or expose the wavering of the timid, among the partisans of its own, than to reprobate the incontrovertible bigotry of the hostile faction.-The other striving against the stream of time; in the vain hope that its empty clamor may be mistaken for "the inimitable thunder,”—and that men, in the nineteenth century, may be induced to believe a corrupt and venal delegation from aristocracy, more likely to advance the interests of the community, than a true and honest representation of the people-in short to believe, that ignorance is more conducive to the happiness of "the million," than education-that slavery is better than freedom-that the darkness of midnight is more luminous than the noonday sun. The "Asmodeus at Large" of Bulwer, performs that office for the intellectual, which "Le diable boiteux” of Le Sage does to the corporeal man; and is, therefore, as much superior to his prototype, as the thinking mind is of greater importance than the acting clay. Had Mr. Bulwer been previously unknown as an author, this work alone would have stamped his pre-eminence; and were all other monuments of his genius to sink into that oblivion, which has engulfed so many treasures of old, this alone would suffice to speak-in that universal language which no heart can hear unmoved-to all classes and denominations of the reading world; proclaiming its creator to be gifted with that versatility

of intellect, which, rarely falling to the lot of a single mortal, invariably marks out for its possessor a station among the mighty ones of earth.

One of these mighty ones is Mr. Bulwer; nor is there a country in the civilized world, or a period in the annals of history, to which he would not have imparted lustre,-not merely as a writer, but as an intellect of a superior order.-Old in wisdom, although youthful in years, he has long ago obtained reputation as a novelist, surpassed in his peculiar line of composition by no dead or living author ;-and in these papers-now first brought before the public in a connected form-though sketchy and rambling in their nature, he has not only maintained his former character, but has acquired new credit, by proving himself to be no less a proficient in the theory of government, than an able and willing promoter of all the means which human wisdom has devised, or human benevolence exercised, for the advancement of the happiness, the knowledge, and the virtue of mankind.

The plot-if the book can with propriety be said to possess one-is simple in the extreme. The narrator-as his predecessor, Don Cleofas, had done before-restores to liberty an imprisoned demon-and, by the way, there is no small degree of original wit in the opening scene-on condition of being chaperoned, and introduced into all societies, by the infernal captive. By virtue of his incorporeal guide, he acquires the power of locomotion, of passing from the visible to the invisible world, at pleasure, and of a certain insight into the affairs, the actions, and the motives of the whole human race. Beyond this power, we cannot see that he gains much, by his not very reputable acquaintance; for-with deference be it spokenthe devil himself is rather a poor devil; nor are his observations on the doings of men at all comparable, in point of sagacity, with those of his terrestrial companion. The author, in his preliminary notice, gives us to understand, that the whole series has an allegorical signification. "In the narrator is embodied the SATIETY which is of the world; in Asmodeus the principle of vague EXCITEMENT, in which satiety always seeks for relief-a fervid though hasty PASSION succeeds at last; and Asmodeus appears no more, because in love all vague excitement is merged in absorbing and earnest emotion." This is very good, and very true; but at the same time we have our doubts, whether such was in truth the preconcerted plan, although it is certainly no inappropriate commentary upon the text. Be, however, the spring of action what it may, the event has proved its excellence. We have wit, without flippancy-politics, never degenerating into dullness-morality, never sinking into cant-imagination, free and unfettered, but never overstepping the bound which has been set between sublimity and ridicule-and, to conclude the whole, we have a slight but living sketch of a love adventure, hit off with that truth of outline, delicacy of touch, and correctness of keeping, which show at a glance the hand of

the master.

That the popularity of Asmodeus will, in this country, keep pace with its merits, we hardly dare to assert; for so much the larger portion is occupied by allusions to local politics, and politicians-whose names are not only uninteresting but unknown on this side of the Atlantic; and to writers— with whose writings we neither have, nor desire, any acquaintance-that general readers will, perhaps, find less entertainment in these papers, than in a more connected fiction.

Notwithstanding this, we have no hesitation in recommending Asmodeus to all those who are capable of enjoying accurate demonstrations of truth, and shrewd observations on the character and motives of individuals; some of whom are of sufficient note to have been rumored abroad upon the winds of heaven, till their names have become familiar to the ears of our distant community. The language of Asmodeus-as of all Mr. Bulwer's works— is in the purest style of English ;-there is the same mixture of sprightliness with deep pathos,-the same apparently unnatural combination of modern on dits, with gems selected from the rhapsodies or meditations of every poet or sage, who has unlocked the sympathies, or convinced the understandings of men; and interwoven--we hardly know how-with the adventures of the pair, is a superb moral allegory, entitled the tale of Kosim Kesamim; which we would extract entire if our limits would permit; and which we would analyze, did we not feel certain, that were we to attempt an explanation, we could only render that dull and obscure in abridgment, which, when entire, is fascinating in its manner, and forcible in the truth, which it so admirably illustrates. The moral we will give; certain that few who read thus far, will fail to peruse the passage from which it is derived. The aspirant after unearthly knowledge receives a double gift of supernatural perception: after the first accession of power to his visual organs, he is dazzled by the unknown and unimagined glories of the universe ;-after the second, he is horror-stricken by the revelation of its utter loathsomeness and corruption; at this juncture,

"Bright Lamps of Heaven,' I cried, lifting my eyes in anguish from the loathly Charnel of the Universal Earth; and is this, which men call 'Nature,' is this the sole Principle of the World?"

"As I spoke, the huge carcass beneath my feet trembled.-And over the face of the Corpse beside me there fell a fear. And lo! the heavens were lit up with a pure and glorious light, and from the midst of them there came forth a Voice, which rolled slowly over the whole face of the charnel earth, as the voice of thunder above the valley of the shepherd. 'SUCH,' said the Voice, IS NATURE, IF THOU ACCEPTEST NATURE AS THE FIRST CAUSE-SUCH IS THE UNIVERSE WITHOUT A GOD!"

It is no easy matter to select portions from such a work as this, which shall give a just idea of its merits! Incident there is none;-connected interest,-description,-story,-if we except the episode of Julia, which has been quoted entire by more than one of our daily journals, and which we are inclined to believe will meet with more admirers than any other passage, there are none! In casting our eyes, for the second or third time, over these entertaining pages, we have stumbled upon a critique, which displays so much sound sense and information, coupled with the most uncompromising justice, that we cannot refrain from exhibiting it to our countrymen; as a proof of the true measure of applause, or censure, bestowed by Englishmen of talent upon the slanderers of America. It is Bulwer's criticism on "Mrs. Trollope's domestic manners of the Americans." Mrs. Trollope!-whom, by the way, we have raised to a celebrity here by our susceptibility, which she never could have obtained by the merits or demerits of her book; despised, as it is in London, by all persons of understanding, with a contempt no less overwhelming, than has been its lot in the United States. Bulwer has dissected her at some length, and we have extracted-as a specimen of the whole-the coup de grace by which he concludes his flagellation

“Vulgarity of mind, not of manners, is the only vulgarity which a people can charge