And you saw its antler'd form through the autumn leaves that shook handmaiden is represented in a kneeling position, looking anxi. ously towards the scene of slaughter, her finger up in a hushing attitude. The arrangement of the picture is nearly that of the On the brown beach, whispering back to the solitary wing exhibited here last year, inverted. Etty has now completed Brook beach, Whispering back to the solitary his great work, and we are bound to pronounce the conception of the whole simple and noble. In the centre, the gorgeous scene of the interior tent, at the moment of enthusiastic resolve and The wild old days of Shakspeare!-how pleasantly they drunken death on either side the cool, grey, indistinct dawn, went, THE AMULET for 1832, the sixth volume of the series, is announced for publication early in November. Among its illustrations will be found engravings from four of Sir Thomas Lawrence's most celebrated paintings; that of " the Marchioness of London. derry and her Son" being the frontispiece. It will also contain prints from Pickersgill's "Greek Girl," exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1829; from Haydon's "Death of Eucles," exhibited at the Western Exchange in 1830; from a painting of “the Death of the Firstborn," by George Hayter, the distinguished painter of the Trial of Lord William Russel; from a picture of " Corinne," painted expressly for the Amulet, by the great artist of France, Gerard; with landscapes by Stanfield and David Roberts, &c. &c. The literary portion of the work will, as heretofore, consist chiefly of articles of permanent interest and value. THE JUVENILE FORGET-ME-NOT for 1832, the fifth volume of that publication, edited by Mrs S. C. Hall, is announced to appear in October. It will contain a considerable number of fine engravings on steel and on wood; and the literary contents will be from the pens of the most eminent writers for the young. Dr Morton is about to publish remarks on the subject of Lactation. Mr John Gray has in the press, an elementary treatise, entitled "The Social System." Mr Gray, we understand, attributes nine. tenths of the commercial difficulties of nations to a defective system of exchange his work professes to throw a new light upon the entire subject of commerce. EDINBURGH.-The other wing of Etty's Judith has arrived. The moment of the story selected by the artist is that in which the attendant of Judith is listening at the opening of the tent. The with the slumberous camp and the city's distant watch-fires, on one occasion the lonely servant anxiously waiting, on the next the triumph of snecess.-The Trustees' Academy has closed till November. We believe that the Board is in the habit of deter. mining the prizes about the time that it meets again. Would it not be an additional stimulus to the students, if their drawings were exhibited to the public? This plan, we know, has been tried with good effect in Paris and elsewhere.-Turner has passed through on his way to the Highlands. We anticipate some results from his excursion, He and our own Thomson are the only really great landscape painters we have at present. The latter is more to our taste, as working in a higher, purer, and more classi cal spirit but the power and genius of Turner we shall be the last to call in question.-The venerable and indefatigable parent of the Gael, Principal Baird, has again set off on an excursion to the Highlands and Islands. The fervent benevolence which can stimulate him at his advanced years to such an undertaking, is rare as it is admirable.--We rejoice to learn that Mrs Grant of Laggan is on terms with a London publisher for a new edition of her "Memoirs of an American Lady." CHITCHAT FROM GLASGOW.-Dr Weir, one of the Professors of our Portland Street School of Medicine, and by far the most sober and sensible of all our strong phrenologists, as well as an able man otherwise, has begun a popular course on the doctrines of that science, with great promise of success. LONDON. A subscription is to be commenced immediately for the purpose of purchasing the late Sir Thomas Lawrence's unri. valled collection of drawings, with a view to their preservation in the British Museum or National Gallery. The Council of the Royal Academy have voted L.1000 towards the subscription, in the event of its being filled up. For the interests of British art, and the honour of British taste, we wish all success to the underta king. A calumnious passage in Williams's Life of Lawrence, relative to English artists at Rome, has called forth a spirited and manly refutation from Uwins, in the columns of the Literary Ga. zette. The publishers in the department of the fine arts are be stirring themselves to perpetuate the memory of the opening of London Bridge. Stanfield has made some beautiful drawings of the ceremony; and T. Allom is preparing a lithographic print.Professor Pattison has published a pamphlet detailing the circum. stances of his connexion with the London University. A case of more gross and flagrant injustice towards a man of high pro fessional talent-of boyish petulance on the part of the studentsof folly, imbecility, ignorance, and oppression on the part of the council and warden, is not, we believe, on record. The concern can never do. DUTCH LITERATURE.-The "Lyst van nieuw uitgekomen boeken in den Jare, 1830," contains the titles of 643 new works— 87 are theological-among which are 29 translations, chiefly from the German. The sermons of Germany are in particular request among the Dutch. Jurisprudence is less rich, that department offering only 15 works, the most important of which is a Register of Statutes and Ordinances of the Executive since 1813. Natural and mathematical science and medicine reckon 65 contributions, of which 17 are translations. Historical and geographical works, and the "allied species," voyages and travels, amount to 74, of which 38 are translations, chiefly from the English. Important is a little work by A. D. Welde, entitled " De Preanger Regentschap. pen op Java gelegen," which affords much new information respecting that island. But still more important is Modera's "Verhaal van eene reize naar en langs de zuidwestkust van Nieuw Guinea gedaan in 1828, door Zr. Ms. Korvet Triton en Zr. Ms Koloniale schooner Iris"-an account of the discoveries of the Dutch on a previously unknown coast, where they have since planted a colony. The encouragement afforded by the govern. ment to the literati to communicate their views respecting the best mode of making preparations for completing a history of the Netherlands, has evoked a whole host of works. Romances amount to the terrific number 80-50 at least are translations. Poetry we use the generic name-occupies 96 volumes. greater part are mere fugitive poems, many of them relating to the events in Belgium. As, for example:-" Weerklang aan de oproerige vrijheidskreet van eenige Belgen, op den 25 en 26 Augustus Amsterdam aan te muitende Brusselaren ;"— "Waapendronk ter eere van oud Nederland;”—“Uitboezeming, by het vernemen der oproerigheden te Brussel," &c. The Belgic affairs occupy in like manner a due proportion of 152 works belonging to that indescribable class entitled "Mengelwerk"-Miscellanies. There are only two philological works. Journals, almanacs, and pocket-books, are innumerable. The LITERARY CRITICISM. The Private Correspondence of David Garrick, with the most celebrated persons of his time; now first published from the originals, and illustrated with Notes, and a new Biographical Memoir of Garrick. Volume I. 4to. Pp. 660. London. Colburn and Bentley. 1831. How people can bring themselves to write letters, is to us utterly inconceivable. It is true, that no earthly pleasure transcends a full, free, and unreserved outpouring of all one's thoughts, opinions, whims, crotchets, scrapes, and lucky chances, into the ears of a friend: and it is equally "matter of breviary," as Friar John says in Rabelais, that sometimes of a morning, one is tempted in the absence of such a receptacle of small-talk, to seize upon a sheet of paper, and transmit one's good things to some far distant crony-like a batch of comfits neatly wrapped up in a parcel. But the dilatory dragging of the pen is a poor succedaneum for the glibness of the tongue. The thought flies out by the aid of our ria Tigra, almost as soon as it is hatched but when we sit down to write —at least in the case of fertile and forgetive minds like ours the fancy runs gadding on a thousand miles before the goose-quill, and we must either submit to the drudgery of going over the same path again and again, till iteration lends a dreariness to it-or find ourselves in a fit of absence tagging to the head of one sentence the tail of another, separated from the first by a whole century of ideas. We do, therefore, most heartily abjure, detest, and abhor, the mechanical drudgery of letter-writing. Nay, we feel tempted at times to grudge the manual labour necessarily expended upon these our weekly bulletins of literature our correspondence with the public at large. "Nature hath formed strange fellows in her time." Notwithstanding we have demonstrated irrefragably that every man in his senses will necessarily eschew letterwriting to the utmost of his power, there have been people -and these too by no means of the class which we are accustomed uncourteously to denominate fools-who, in the course of a long and praiseworthy life, have devoted much precious time to that practice. Are not the voluminous correspondences of Lady Mary Montague, Cowper, Burns, &c. in this country-of Grimm, Diderot, Voltaire, and others in France-of Lessing, Schiller, and a whole host of illustrissimi in Germany-alive at this day, like the bricks in Jack Cade's chimney, to testify the existence of this most strange psychological anomaly? "And well 'tis so;" for without some such conservatorium, many a rare jest, many a delightful trait of character, would have been lost to posterity. Much though we detest writing, we do in our heart delight in reading letters our own, of course; for we do not plead guilty to a propensity, which we have observed in some of our acquaintances, to peep into every scrap of folded paper. This is a dangerous, and, what is worse, a dirty predilection; and yet we admit that it is a very natural piece of frailty, and must be tenderly reprehended. A letter from one whom we know, and to whose secrets we have a prescriptive right, is delightful; then how much more Price 6d. so one that may give us a glimpse of what was never meant for us! Besides, in the very appearance of a folded paper, there is an evident attempt at concealment, an air of mystery, that inevitably sets the mind agog; and what better sedative to the pangs of vexed curiosity than satisfactory information? After all, it must be charming when left alone in a room, with an unsealed but folded letter on the table, to feel the first gentle hauntings of inquisitiveness-then the growing ascendency of the increasing passion-then the palpitation of the heart "audibly beating," as, after a searching glance round the room, we lift the mystery, and, opening it, run with a hurried glance through its contents, our attention divided between their perusal and the anxious expectation of approaching footsteps. Nevertheless, it is not our intention even to palliate this rather unamiable weakness. We may esteem it, therefore, a matter universally agreed upon, that to read other people's letters is not exactly in accordance with the rules of good breeding. It seems, however, that an exception has of late been established in favour of letters to or from deceased persons. Altogether, people are beginning to treat the dead very scurvily; we alter their buildings, innovate upon their institutions, and depart from their modes of transacting business. It only remained to complete the iniquity of our conduct towards them that we should tacitly exclude them from the pale of civilized society, and the protection it affords. No sooner is the breath out of a man's body than the whole reading public pounce upon his portfolios and escritoires, like a parcel of overgrown schoolboys, curious and mischievous as a herd of apes, examining and commenting upon every scrap of paper that falls into their hands. If men would but reflect that the case may one day be their own-that their dinnercards, billet-dour, and tailors' bills, may, ere long, be served up, a savoury repast to a discerning public!But we are not in a mood for moralizing at present. We prefer enacting the part of the good boy, who declines to join in plundering an orchard, but takes his share of the fruit. The Garrick Correspondence forms an interesting supplement to Boswell's Life of Johnson. It affords additional insight into the structure of society, the state of moral and intellectual culture in the beginning of the latter half of last century. The letters contain many happy sketches of contemporary manners, and in many of them the writer unconsciously gives us a picture of himself. Here is a pleasing picture of a good old vicar. He is almost worthy to stand beside him of Wakefield. "The honest vicar of Egham-whom I am sure you regard, and whom I sincerely love from the best conviction of his worth, a long and intimate acquaintance with him-might be made the happiest man upon earth with a small addition to his present income, and without which I fear that he will be in an uncomfortable situation: he is obliged to undergo more labour and fatigue than he can possibly support another winter; he has not only the severe duty of Egham upon him, but, besides that, he is obliged to ride five or six miles through much water, and often to swim his horse, for the sake of about commanding him to ask pardon directly. The Tiger shrank from the danger, and with a faint voice pronounced, 'Hut! what signifies it between you and me? well! well! I ask your pardon!' Speak louder, sir; I don't hear a word you say.' And, indeed, he was so very tall, that it seemed as if the sound sent feebly from below could not ascend to such a height." Our next extract we have been induced to make, partly drama to know something of dead actors, and of a foreign to gratify the curiosity entertained by amateurs of the nation, and partly because their fame is associated with that of Corneille, some remarks upon whom will be found in another column of to-day's Journal : "When last I had the pleasure of writing to you, I had not my thoughts sufficiently free to tell you all I thought of Caillot; but let me now declare that he is an élève of yours, and does honour to his master. He acted ten nights running in two pieces each night, and in that constant variety gave constant and various proofs of his theatrical powers: his voice is nothing, but his jeu muet, his easy natural vein of humour, and his pathos, are really amazing. He told me all he is, is entirely owing "That no imprudent step of mine may be charged to you, and I really believe him; for, if I may use the upon Mr Beighton, I must assure you, upon my word expression, he understands you perfectly. He stayed one and honour, that this is taken without his knowledge or night longer at Lille than he intended, on purpose to concurrence: I have long felt for him, and wished for spend the evening with us, which was last Sunday; and an occasion as you have flattered me that I have some- he set off for Paris at five in the morning. In society times had the power to raise your feelings too for the he is charming; indeed, he is so very like you, that is, he honest vicar. My friend is a great dabbler in curiosities, does and says a hundred little things like you: he has and he has collected some few in his little library and your franchise, your vivacity, and, in short, he has nogarden; but I defy him to show me a greater rarity than thing of that French politeness, which, as Sterne remarks, himself, for he is a generous, modest, ingenious, and dis-renders all the nation like so many shillings rubbed interested clergyman. This is the man for whom, as our Shakspeare says, I have at last 'screw'd my courage to the sticking-place;' but if I have exerted it now improperly, at the expense of my modesty and your good opinion, I shall be very unhappy." "Tiger Roach (who used to bully at the Bedford coffee-house, because his name was Roach) is set up by Wilkes's friends to burlesque Lutterell and his pretensions. I own I do not know a more ridiculous circumstance than to be a joint candidate with the Tiger. O'Brien used to take him off very pleasantly, and perhaps you may, from his representation, have some idea of this important wight. He used to sit at a table all alone, with a half-starved look, a black patch upon his cheek, pale with the idea of murder, or with rank cowardice, a quivering lip, and a downcast eye, which, if it was ever raised, was raised only like poor Dido's (I do not mean Reed's Dido, but Virgil's)— smooth. Our talk was much of you: he talked of you with judgment and affection; I with the latter only. To say "But now what shall I say? I fear I have not the smallest portion of judgment left, as I declare that with my best endeavours for three nights repeated, I never could discover the merits of that terrific personage, Le As a contrast to this excellent old man, the reader may Kain ! not object to our introducing a Bobadil of the time of Warwick, the second; and Gustave, the third. He played Tancrede the first night; Comte de George III.: the truth, it was my intention to get the better of my fears occasioned by his first appearance, and invite him, as I had done Caillot and Aufrene, on the merits of being honoured with the title of your friend; but when I found, the day after his first appearance, that he had abused the audience, inveighed against the theatre, and scolded the actors, I thought it most prudent to let him alone, as I had not one sop of sugared flattery prepared to soften him; and, indeed, I did not repent it, for Mr Pye was at a supper given by some officers to Caillot and him, and he was so melancholy and gentlemanlike' that they could not get a word out of him, whilst on the other hand Caillot kept 'the table in a roar.' After all, to tell the truth, his whole style of acting put me strongly in mind of Quin, only that he has a face far less agreeable; and I am sure, to relish him, it is either necessary to have your exquisite judgment, which can discover the minute beauties, or to be born in France; for the remark of our judicious country woman in her essay, that the chief pleasure of a French audience consists in their reflections on the difficulty of rhyming in their language, was never better exemplified; for their great éloge on Le Kain is, what they call the amazing beauty of his declamation, which, as it revolts my nature, does not please my judgment. Pray tell me if I am very wrong in my idea." "Quæsivit cœlo lucem, ingemuitque repertâ.' So far for the description of my hero. In that manner he used to sit alone, and his soliloquy, interrupted now and then with faint attempts to throw off a little saliva, was to the following effect: Hut! hut! a mercer's 'prentice with a bag-wig—d—n my s—l, if I would not skiver a dozen of them like larks!-Hut! hut! I don't understand such airs!—I'd cudgel him, back, breast, and belly, for three skips of a louse!-How do you, Pat? Hut! hut! God's blood-Larry, I'm glad to see you'Prentices!-a fine thing, indeed!-hut! hut! How do you do, Dominick ?-D-n my s-1, what's here to do?' These were the meditations of this agreeable youth. From one of these reveries he started up one night, when I was there, called a Mr Bagnell out of the room, and most heroically stabbed him in the dark, the other having no weapon to defend himself with. In this career the Tiger persisted, till at length a Mr Lennard brandished a whip over his head, and stood in a menacing attitude, you last the last year, and first this season with the true original spirit of Ranger upon you. It will comfort the old Stage-monger to have a line from your original self upon you and your doings, and your future doings. An old hunter commodities up his ears, (as the old spinster worded it,) if he but hears a single hound lifting up his throat; and enjoys the old stuff, though he has never a leg to his body. 'Old John again halloos the hare, And turns her in his wicker chair,' that purpose; but, G-d d-n it, I can make nothing of my ideas, there has been such a fall of rain from the same quarter. You shall not see it, for I will cut it before you can come. Tell me, dear sir, when you purpose coming to Bath, that I may be quick enough in my motions. Shakspeare's bust is a silly smiling thing, and I have not sense enough to make him more sensible in the picture, and so I tell ye, you shall not see it. "I must make a plain picture of him standing erect, and give it an old look, as if it had been painted at the time he lived; and there we shall fling 'em, dam'me. "Now you talk of a leg, I have two wooden ones, as "Poor Mrs Pritchard died here on Saturday night at long almost as my body, which I clap on occasionally to eleven o'clock; so now her performances being no longer my shoulders, and feague it away faith! You would present to those who must see and hear before they can tremble, if you saw me, at the thoughts of what might believe, will, you know, my dear sir,-But I beg parhave happened when I peppered your peeper at Bath. I don, I forgot-Time puts all into his fob, as I do my think I am improved in my style, since we met last. time-keeper-watch that, my dear. "Who am I but the same, think you? T. G. "Impudent scoundrel!' says Mr G-k. Blackguard!'" women of beauty or talent-men of all professions have Peers spiritual and temporal-statesmen and wits contributed their mites to the formation of this volume. Edmund Burke and Samuel Johnson stand beside the ladies Clive and Cibber; Chatham, Cambden, and the Bishop of Gloucester jostle in the crowd of playwrights, The medley is highly prompters, and small critics. amusing, but not always very flattering to such as enterand jealousies, the burning spites, the magnifying of tain high notions of human dignity. The paltry cabals trifles into matters of importance, the pride, perversity, and "Talk to me of plays, and players, and theatres and things. What say you of Mrs Dancer? A gemman, who is (I think) no great judge, a correspondent, the first letter of whose name is Warner, says she is nulli secunda in Mrs Sigismunda. Doctors differ, and in nothing so much as acting. Keate says nay. New plays you have: now I, who was ever the support of your stage, will recommend some old ones-first, the droppings of Shakspeare's tap. What is become of Timothy Atkins or the Man Eater? A good drip, master Gar. Julius Cæsar'Barry a tolerable Cassius; Holland a good haranguing Antony; Love an excellent Casca, (but not spliced with Titinius, as it used to be acted), and the philosophical Brutus, the Garrick-but you must pare your nails on a Monday morning fasting, without thinking upon a white fox's tail, i. e. you must never turn a thought upon Ra-weakness which continually peep out, are really mortifying. But we are not going to pen a satire either upon gandjaw, in The Parson's Theatrical Garret.' What think you of playing Iago, to Barry's Othello? where, the stage or the world at large, and therefore close the book. though you may see faults, he is generally admired. The town has for years sighed to see Volpone at Drury-lane. 'The Voluptuary Magnifico' would afford good acting, and in a style you have not been seen in, especially varied with The Mountebank,' for in Mosca you do not like the business, any more than in Truewit, as I have heard you say. 'Bessus' I cannot say I have much hopes of, though you once resolved to revive it, the other parts are so outrée. Dixi, "Now you must know, that we and our royal court move next week to St Cross, near Winchester, for the winter. And now pray, sir, and madam, how came you not to come near my pudden at Southampton as you promised? I hope your rib is in better plight than mine, whose soul and spirit, that used to aspire to the regions of mirth and joy, are now even in her shoes. Where must my heart be then? Euvres Choisies de Pierre Corneille. Four volumes, 8vo, with Portrait. (Family Library of French Classics.) Paris, London, and Strasburg. Treuttel and Würtz. 1831. PIERRE CORNEILLE was born at Rouen in 1606. The Jesuits were his first instructors, and he retained through the whole of his after life a great respect for that body. He devoted himself to the study of the law, and was eventually called to the bar, but never evinced much taste for his profession. According to the tradition of his native place, love was the first cause of awaking the dramatic poet within him. A young man of his acquaintance introduced him to his mistress, and it so chanced, that the new comer managed to render himself more agreeable "Her good wishes attend her and you, with those of, than the original swain. (We may remark, that this is dear David, your affectionate Fubzy, "J, HOADLY," Gainsborough seems to have been a rough customer one of those who mistake a flow of animal spirits, and a coarse pleasure in the use of strong language, for wit. Garrick's annotation is an amusing expression of offended dignity: "Bath, 22d Aug. 1768. "Dear Sir, I doubt I stand accused (if not accursed) all this time for my neglect of not going to Stratford, and giving you a line from thence as I promised; but, Lord! what can one do in such weather as this continual rains! My genius is so damped by it, that I can do nothing to please me, I have been several days rubbing in and rubbing out my design for Shakspeare, and d-n me if I think I shall let it go or let you see it at last, I was willing, like an ass as I am, to expose myself a little out of the simple portrait way, and had a notion of showing where that inimitable poet had his ideas from, by an immediate ray darting down upon his eye turned up for always the case, and that, therefore, any man who introduces his friend to the lady of his affections, may safely be written down an ass.) On this slender theme, Corneille composed his comedy of Melite, which appeared in 1625. The success of his coup-d'essai encouraged him to give vent to his genius. In the course of a few years, he produced six comedies-Clitandre, La Galerie du Palais, La Veuve, La Suivante, and La Place Royale. It would be absurd to maintain, that we can recognise in these plays the future author of Cinna; nevertheless, they showed a degree of neatness of arrangement, of point and elegance in the dialogue, of grace and dignity in the language, that had not previously adorned the French stage. They are represented as having afforded the first instigation to the union of a new company of performers, which was incorporated about that time. The drama enjoyed at this period the peculiar patronage of Cardinal Richelieu. That minister, ambitious in literature as in politics, sought to attach the young genius to his train. Under such patronage, in the society of the prescribing these rules to himself, Corneille was reduced most esteemed authors of the day, Corneille continued his He If we are correct in our appreciation of Corneille's three fundamental rules, his adoption of them materially limited the range his genius might otherwise have taken. There still remains a wide field, however the developement of character, the expression of sentiment, striking incident-and in the manner of his wielding and employing all these, we cannot fail to recognise the hand of The other unity which Corneille placed as the groundwork of his drama, is one which is unavoidably adopted by every true poet-the unity of action. The imagination necessarily confers this. But it appears to us that Corneille has at times confounded this internal and neIt may serve as a clue to guide the reader through the cessary unity with a factitious ape of it, which confers desultory remarks we are about to offer upon these com- consistency upon a poem by polishing it from without. positions, if we prefix a catalogue of them in the order of The imagination, while it works to one great end, throws their appearance. They may be divided into two classes. out a thousand incidental images, diverges into a thouIn the first is comprised Horace (which followed close sand reflections, which enhance the effect of the whole, upon Le Cid), Cinna, Polyeucte, Pompée. Le Menteur (a without interfering with its grandeur. The mind that comedy), Rodogune, Théodore, Heraclius, Don Sanche looks only to the external form, without comprehending d'Aragon, Andromède, Nicomede, and Pertharite. After the soul that animates it, regards these as so many imthe production of the last-mentioned piece, Corneille se- pertinencies. The mind of Corneille, left to its own ceded for a time from the theatre. Pertharite was received workings, was superior to such a mistake; but he was with disapprobation, and the chagrin which this excited trammelled by a half understood theory, and withstood in the author's mind is strongly expressed in a short pre- the promptings of his better genius. He rejected from face, declaring that he feels the advance of old age, and his plays as extraneous much that Shakspeare has emprepares to abandon dramatic composition for the future.ployed with the happiest effect, without sinning against He occupied the time withdrawn from his former pur- the great requisite of unity of action. suits in translating into French verse the "Imitation of Christ" the only work which appeared from his pen during a lapse of six years. But nature was too strong for his premature resolution of quitting the stage. commenced a new series of plays with his Edipes, which, proving completely successful, he speedily followed up by La Toison d'or, Sertorius, Sophonisbe, Agésilas, Othon, Attila, Pulchérie, and Suréna. The last mentioned was performed for the first time in 1675, and, after its appearance, Corneille took his final leave of the stage. He died in 1684, Dean of the Academie Française. In the composition of all these works which we have now enumerated, Corneille was animated by a desire of doing his utmost, akin to the feeling which inspired Milton. He had, moreover, formed for himself a theory of what ought to be effected, and all his labours were controlled by a reference to it. This theory he has explained in his three discourses on dramatic art, and its special application he has elucidated in the Examens attached to all his plays-brief criticisms, in which he expresses freely what he conceives to be the defects of each, but, at the same time, with a dignified consciousness of his own powers. The works of a man who sets thus conscientiously to work-at least when he is a man of geniusare not to be judged lightly by a reference to our likings and dislikings, but by the higher test of the power evinced in them, the value of the rules of art upon which they are constructed, and their adherence to them. The most peculiar feature of Corneille's drama has its origin in his never leaving out of view that he was composing a poem which was to be personated. The strict attention which he paid to this fact, united to his wish to heighten the effect of the representation even to illusion, was the cause of his adopting, in their most rigid acceptation, the two rules of the ancients, which prescribe unity of time and place. He wished that no physical lets or hinderances should intervene, to awaken the spectator to the recollection that what he beheld was but an unsubstantial pageant. The events produced before his eyes must be of such a nature as could possibly happen within a period not much exceeding the time occupied by the representation-they must all occur in one place. By a master. The most prominent features of Corneille's mind are power, comprehensiveness, and elevated sentiment. You meet with little that indicates a keen perception of the beauties of external nature-none of those breathings of "Flora and the country green," which form one of the chief charms of Shakspeare's writings. In like manner, the passion of love does not seem to have possessed much mastery over his soul. Unlike Racine, throughout the whole of whose poetry there runs an under-current of deep pathos,-amid the stormiest of whose creations the gentle but thrilling voice of tenderness is never completely drowned,-Corneille, fervid on all other occasions, becomes cold, subtle, and metaphysical when love is his theme. It is this deficiency that inclines us to assign an inferior place to the Cid to that which has been awarded to it by the voice of his countrymen. It wants the glow of romance which we find in every Spanish fragment of the Campeador's history. Indeed the romantic was no ingredient of Corneille's genius-he was above it. What made the subject of the Cid find favour in his eyes was an analogy he discovered between Chimène's reconciling herself to a marriage with her father's murderer, and the ghastly subjects of the old Greek dramas. His powers, however, had scarcely reached the degree of developement which was necessary to do justice to this view of the subject and its romantic beauty he could not feel. The Infante, besides being an excrescence on his play, puzzles us with cold metaphysical quibbles, which represent love as the light of the glow-worm afire. Rodrigue himself is cold-blooded, and Sanche-a spoon. In Horace, Corneille begins to feel himself more in his element. The stubborn Roman patriotism finds a responsive chord in his heart. But still, so much of the interest of the piece centres in the love of Curiace and |