No. 236.

REVIEWS

Pen and Pencil Sketches of India. By Capt. Mundy, late Aide-de-Camp to Lord Combermere. With twenty-six Illustrations by Landseer of Indian Field Sports. 2 vols. London, 1832. Murray.

kah over head, earn, tant bien que mal, their rupees and their tiffen. This subsidiary meal is a favourite mid-day pastime of both the ladies and men of the Presidency, and is the only repast at which appetite generally presides. A rich hash, or hot curry, followed by a well-cooled bottle of claret, or Hodson's pale ale, with a variety of eastern fruits, are thus despatched at 2 o'clock, forming in fact a dinner, whilst the so-called meal at 8 o'clock would be better named supper.

Many valuable contributions have lately been made to our stock of knowledge on India and Indian life, but a work like this, full of light, "Idle men employ the above hours in visiting, pleasant, graphic sketches of scenes, such as billiards, or the auction-rooms. In the former they pass under the eye of an intelligent traceremonial, should the visitor, going his rounds, veller, was still wanting; and we shall be find the gates of the compound't closed, he is somewhat surprised if it be not eminently to deduce that the Bebce Sahib is not visible. successful. There is a freshness and off- Should they be thrown open, on the contrary, hand vigour in the Captain's descriptions, that he draws a favourable augury-(which, however, bring everything vividly before the reader; may still be negatived by the Cerberus Durwàng) but, as the public are rather anxiously await-dashes through the portal, draws up sharp ing the appearance of his work, and as this will be the very first notice of it, we think it better to put the author prominently forward, and reserve our comments until after the publication.

A Day in Calcutta.

"In the hot weather-and nine months of the twelve are hot-the Anglo-Bengalee-unless he has been late at a party the night before, or loves his bed better than his health-is roused by the punctual warning of his bearer, 'Sahib! Sahib! it has struck four,' and completing, by the assistance of the same domestic officer, a hasty toilette, he mounts his Arab, and by half-past four is taking his constitutional canter round the dew-freshened race-course. There-unless, as is sometimes the case, he be too languid to be social-he joins company with some of the many acquaintances he is sure to fall in with; and discusses the merits of the last batch of claret, per petite Louise,' from Bourdeaux, or the last batch of misses, 'per Duchess of Bedford,' from England; the last act of Government, or the last dinner at Gunter's. if there be any that he has chanced to fall out with, he may on the same spot, under the wellknown 'Great Tree,' discuss his point of honour without danger of interruption. During the months preceding the races, the training of the horses affords the sporting world of Calcutta an additional incitement to the healthful practice of early rising.

6

Or,

"At six, or soon after, that arch-enemy of European constitutions, the sun, begins to dart, from above the tall mansions of Chouringhee,

its intolerable rays across the hitherto thronged plain; and the 'Qui hi' who has any respect for the well-being of his liver, shrinks appalled from its increasing disk, sneaks home, delivers his reeking horse to the attendant syce, and, exhausted with the monstrous exertion he has undergone, creeps under his musquito curtain, and dozes, a bearer fanning him, until half-past eight.

"A bath-the greatest luxury in India-and perhaps shampooing wind him up for the breakfast of tea, muffins, and pillau, at half past nine; after which those who are fortunate enough to have offices, repair thither in buggy or palankeen; and, with white jacket on back and pun

under the columned entrance, jumps out, and is received at the door-(there is not a knocker in all India!)-by a respectful but pompous and most deliberate jemadar, who, striding before the Bhar-kee-Sahib-the ivory tassels of his dagger rattling as he walks-leads him through a darkened ante-room, (where another attendant, within hearing of the delicate 'Qui hi!' of the lady, rises wakefully and salaams, or sits sleepily and nods,) and finally introduces him by his name (strangely distorted, however) into the yet more obscured sanctum. Here, seated in luxurious fauteuil, and fanned by the wavings of the heavy-flounced punkah, the eyes of the visiter (albeit as yet unused to the tender twilight of the hermetically-closed apartment) discover the fair object of his visit. He is seated; obvious topics are dispatched, and happy is it for absent acquaintances if the late arrival of a ship, or a new novel is at hand to furnish external matter for discussion. In default of this diversion, living victims are offered up at the shrine of tittle-tattle-I won't call it scandal'attentions' and 'intentions' are anatomized; flirtations analyzed; couples, as adverse as fire and water, are wedded and bedded; and friends, as attached as twin-brothers, are paraded with pistols for two' under the Great Tree.' The lady's ivory stilletto, urged by her white fingers rendered still whiter by Indian seclusion, is not more actively employed in torturing her tamboured muslin, than is her tongue in torturing and distorting facts-I won't say charactersthe gentleman attacks the men, the lady the women; each defends the opposite sex, and they separate mutually satisfied with themselves,

-not overhearing the exclamation from the neighbouring verandah, 'There is Captain A. only just going away from Mrs. B.; what can he have been doing there these three hours, whilst Mr. B. is at office?'-but this smacks of persiflage! To our subject.-The tiffen being concluded, many have recourse to a siesta, to recruit their forces and to kill time.

"Towards six, the orb of day, tending towards the western horizon, begins to relax the vigour of his rays; the lengthening shadows give evi

+ Enclosure round the house.
The Lady.

§ Porter.

Strange gentleman.

......

dence of his decline; and ere he has quite deserted the glowing heavens, the echoes of Calcutta are awakened by the rattling-rattling indeed!-of hundreds of equipages, from the lordly coach-and-four to the less-aspiring but dapper buggy; from the costly Arab charger to the ambling Pegu pony. All hurry to the same point, urged by the desire of seeing and being seen; and indeed those morose few, who are not instigated by these all-potent motives, are obliged to resort to the same mall, as the only well-watered drive. At dusk the Course and Strand are deserted:-except by a few choice spirits, who love to breathe the cool air of moonlight and to listen to the soft whisperings of the evening breeze, rather than the coarse steam of viands and the bubbling of houkahs-the world of Calcutta is dressing for dinner; and by 8 o'clock it is seated at that important, but often untasted meal. In the hospitable mansions of the upper servants' of the Company the tables groan under the weight of massive plate, and, what is worse, under whole hecatombs of beef and mutton. I have frequently seen-horresco referens!-in a side-dish, which would have been much more appropriately tenanted by an appetizing fricandeau or a tempting riz de veau,-two legs of mutton, or twin turkeys; yet with all this profusion, scarcely any one has sufficiently recovered from the heavy tiffen despatched at two, to be able even to look without shuddering upon the slaughtered herds-much less to taste two mouthfuls.

"Champaign and claret, delightfully cooled with ice or saltpetre, are real luxuries; and, ere the last course is well off the table, an isolated bubble announces the first houkah! others drop in, the jingling of Suppooses is heard; a rich, though rather overcoming odour pervades the air; handsome mouth-pieces of amber, gold, silver, or Videri, decked with snowy ruffles, insinuate themselves from under the arms of the chairs; and the pauses in the sometimes languid and ill-sustained conversation are deprived of their former awkwardness by the full sonorous drone of a dozen of these princely pipes." 292. Nocturnal Bathing.

"On the occasion of a grand nocturnal bathing ceremony, held at the great tank called the Indra Daman, I went with a party of three or surrounding the pool and a cluster of picturesque four others to witness the spectacle. The walls pavilions in its centre were brilliantly lighted up with hundreds of cheraugs, or small oil

lamps, casting a flickering lustre upon the

heads and shoulders of about five hundred men, women, and children, who were ducking and praying, à corps perdu, in the water. As I glanced over the figures nearest to me, I discovered floating among the indifferent bathers two dead bodies, which had either been drowned in the confusion, or had purposely come to die on the edge of the sacred tank; the cool and apathetic survivors taking not the slightest notice of their soulless neighbours." ii. 261-2.

Eastern Luxury of Bathing in the Ganges. "The streams are alive with those river-pests, alligators, whose penchant for human flesh renders that chiefest luxury in a tropical climate, bathing, a matter of extreme danger. Yet it is

strange to see with what perfect nonchalance the native dandies, in case of necessity, take the

water.

"A beautiful specimen of an alligator's head was here given by Mr. Alexander to Lord Combermere. He was rather a distinguished monster, having carried off at different occasions, six or eight brace of men from an indigo factory in the neighbourhood. A native, who had long laid wait for him, at length succeeded in slaying him with poisoned arrows. One of these notoriously ghaut-frequenting alligators is well nigh as rich a prize to the poor native, who is fortunate enough to capture him, as a Spanish galleon is to a British frigate; for on ripping open his stomach, and overhauling its freight, it is not unfrequently found to contain a choice assortment' as the Calcutta advertisers have itof gold, silver, or brass bangles and anklets, which have not been so expeditiously digested as their fair owners, victims of the monster's voracity." ii. 192-3.

Visit of Ceremony to the Maha Rajah. "At sunrise we all mounted our elephants, and the prince having joined the procession, we started for the British Residency. Our group of elephants, escort, and guard were, during the whole march, completely surrounded and hemmed in by the swarms of horsemen, forming the suite of His Highness. They marched totally without order, and might be seen in straggling parties caracoling and circling their well-broke horses, as far as the eye could reach. The plain

looked like a Birnam wood of spears.

"At half-past two, his Excellency, accompanied by the whole Staff, en grand costume, proceeded to pay a visit of ceremony to the young Maha Rajah. We were all mounted on elephants, and preceded by the cavalry escort. The road for four miles was lined by the Mahratta troops at extended order; and they were, for the most part, well mounted and armed. The men appear to have no particular uniform, but the most usual costume is a jacket of thicklyquilted cotton, which is proof against sword cuts, though it is penetrable by the spear or bullet. Some few of the officers saluted the Commander-in-chief, but the horsemen scowled sulkily at us as the cavalcade passed, and showed no mark of courtesy or respect. About halfway between our camp and the fort the Resident caused our party to halt; as that spot had been diplomatically calculated to be the exact distance which the Maha Rajah, in consideration of Lord Combermere's rank as Commander-inchief and Member of Council, should advance to meet us. His Majesty-doubtless purposely -kept us waiting for half an hour; and when at length he did make his appearance, there was so much preliminary conversation, so much court by-play between the British Resident and the Mahratta M. C., who were, perhaps, employed in exacting and refusing, de part et d'autre, some paltry point of etiquette, that the sun, disgusted with the farce, went down without witnessing the presentation.

"Every invention of barbaric pomp was lavished on the elephants and equipages of the Rajah's immediate suite. The elephant of the Hindoo Rao, in particular, was the most beautiful animal I ever saw, and caparisoned in the most costly style; the whole of his head and trunk was painted in the richest colours; he wore a deep frontlet of solid silver net-work, and each of his huge tusks was fitted into a sheath of silver richly embossed; massive silver chains encircled his legs (which were about circumferent with a forty years' oak-tree); large and

sonorous bells of the same metal depended from his side; his ears were decorated with silver ear-rings, about six feet long; and his housings, the fringe of which reached nearly to the ground, were of velvet, embroidered in gold and silver. And here I should remark, that the Mahratta ele

phants-at least, those which are merely used for the Suwarree, have a style of gait and maintien peculiar to themselves, and are as superior in appearance to ours, as the English thorough-bred racer is to the earth-stopper's hack. The Company's elephants, probably from having been rode too young, and oppressed with burdens, shuffle along with short steps, their necks bent, and their heads hanging with the melancholy air of an Oxford-street hackney-coach-horse. The Mahratta elephant strides majestically along, his head elevated far above his shoulder, and his tusks standing out horizontally. The chief's pride themselves greatly upon these animals, and take pleasure in teaching them a variety of tricks. As the procession passed, one of the courtiers, who was riding or driving his own beautiful little elephant, made it kneel down and salaam with its trunk, and then fol

and often enunciates important truths; the fear of man somewhat departs from her mind, and she becomes (by comparison) free, natural, and unconventional. We must re-assert, that, whatever else they can do, they hardly ever advise the sex in print, without injuring the great and holy cause of female improvement. They are timid, and temporize from complaisance; or they have not comprehensive minds, and temporize from weakness; or they sigh under the conventionalities that environ them, and temporize from policy: but in all cases, they temporize. Some forty years ago, a few female spirits, in their eagerness to extend the rights of cultivation, made shipwreck of many things, without which, cultivation is a curse. That reign of audacity among female moralists, was succeeded by the reign of timidity; and the present little volume, by Mrs. John Sandford, offers no views brighter, bolder, or more enlarged, than Mrs. Chapone, or Mrs. Priscilla Wakefield, offered long ago. In fact, the claim on behalf of female intellect, is couched in a far humbler tone, the sphere of female duty is made far narrower, and the avowals of female inferiority and folly, are ungracefully frequent and severe. We can hardly recollect a virtue or an accomplishment, inculcated without some reference to the pleasure of man; that is not less set forth as rendering the possessor a more valuable "As soon as the English Staff had undergone possession: now, a woman, with all her social presentation, the Mahratta courtiers were, to dependence, can never cease to be a separate the number of forty, introduced in like manner and responsible intelligence; but Mrs. Sandto the British Chief: some of them were very ford's ultra doctrines of adaptation, amalgarichly accoutred, and others, on the contrary,mation, and subordination, go far to make most shabbily and even squalidly attired. There this forgotten. Mental culture is treated as a was one ragged lord, in particular, whom, by his higher branch of cookery, and recommended, greasy cotton jacket and unreaped chin, I had as were diet-drinks and possets in antique mistaken for one of the low-born multitude; books of pharmacy. It is possible to sensualize knowledge; and this is done when the main motive given for its pursuit is, to please-no matter whom, or what, but to please. The same may be said of moral duty;—inculcated on any other than broad general principles which appeal equally and indiscriminately to all human beings, it is a false thing; a fashion, not a truth. What, in a Mentor, can be much worse than the following style of praising a virtue?—

low the cavalcade, still on its knees, for about one hundred yards.

"As soon as Scindia had arrived within one hundred paces of our party, he drew up his eleplant. ***

"The two parties descended simultaneously from their houdahs, and confronted each other, more like bitter enemies preparing to come to blows, than as friends meeting in amity and concord. The old Commandant, with his trian

gular, knave-of-spades face- then came forward, and, with the Resident, led the officers of the Staff up by twos, to be presented to the forehand-coolly and indifferently returned our Maha Rajah, who-no doubt well schooled be

salaams.

and under that impression, when he crushed his way and his fat person, not perfumed like a milliner,' before me, and thrust his long sword over his shoulder into my face, I struck his toledo up, and pushed him back with my elbow. He looked ten thousand daggers, and twisted his long moustachios most savagely; and I was not aware that I had underrated his dignity, until I saw my friend ushered up in his turn among the nobles, to receive the embraces of his Excellency. The acollade fraternelle between his Lordship and the boy-King next took place; after which ceremony we all remounted our elephants, and having given his Majesty a quarter of an hour's start, in order to allow of his reaching the palace before us, we followed him to the Mahratta Camp.'" ii. 58–66.

Woman, in her Social and Domestic Character. By Mrs. John Sandford. London, 1831. Longman & Co.

THE perusal of this little volume has deepened

our conviction in the truth of a remark made in a former Athenæum, that, in books, women rarely make good Mentors to women. Any real insight into the heart and opinions of the sex-any high estimate of their duties, must not be sought in the ethical writings of women. Even those who have the power, subject, and, admitting that they see, they seldom go lower than the surface of their rarely expound the whole truth: and why? because they indite moralities concerning themselves, under a paralyzing fear of man; because all that they decry, and all that they inculcate, is subservient to the opinions and tastes of man. It is otherwise, when a woman writes fiction: she then fancies herself veiled,

"Gentleness is, indeed, the talisman of woman. To interest the feelings is to her much easier than to convince the judgment; and the heart far more accessible to her influence than the head. She never gains so much as by conces sion, and is never so likely to succeed as when she seems to yield.

"Gentleness prepossesses at first sight: it insinuates itself into the 'vantage ground, and gains the best position by surprise. Whilst a display of skill and strength calls forth a coun

ter array, gentleness at once disarms opposition, and wins the day before it is contested." p. 14.

Again:

"The mere suspicion of irreligion lowers a woman in general esteem. It implies almost a reflection on her character, for morality cannot be secure without religion. A woman must hold no converse with the enemies of either. She knows that the romance, which invests impiety with the charm of sentiment, must not lie upon her table; nor must she be supposed to be acquainted with the poem, which decks out vice with the witchery of song.

"Religion is indeed a woman's panoply, and no one who wishes her happiness would divest her of it; no one who appreciates her virtues would weaken their best security." p. 36.

Queries-Does Mrs. Sandford think the Ten Commandments exclusively of the feminine gender? or does she think expediency a noble motive? or is religion a great game

of "Profit and Loss"?

The germ of many faults in Mrs. Sandford's book lies in her low estimate of the female understanding. The following sentences are a first-rate admission :—

"The great end of knowledge is to learn to think; and of this women are quite capable. They are capable of moral and intellectual efforts; and the more they improve their mental faculties, the more useful will they be, and the higher will they rise in the social scale." p. 89. This style of writing reminds us of a passage in the preface to two reverend quartos published in 1779, wherein the author, after intimating that he writes solely for the instruction and amusement of the fair sex, declares, with a fine spirit of consideration, that he has carefully studied plainness of language, and has wholly omitted all words that are not English. Kind, considerate, humane, dead Dr. Alexander, wert thou alive, and were we of woman kind, how much rather would we fall into thy hands, than into Mrs. John Sandford's! We have been ac

customed to think, that, within the last thirty years, women have fairly entitled themselves to intellectual honours,-and that, whatever room may remain for improvement, our authoresses are altogether a creditable portion of the literary light infantry. True, there are no grenadiers among them; but they keep step, march in time, have an excellent band, and stand to their colours, as well as their betters. Concerning women of letters, Mrs. Sandford utters grave discourse, which, had Swift met with in Bishop Burnet, he would have characterized as "dark nonsense"; and had we, who know very many of these women, any conviction that Mrs. S. knew one, we should have passed her strictures with a sigh. She has fears that women are being spoiled by over-estimation-would have them cultivated as, of old, the laity were to be taught, far enough for slavish conviction, not far enough for independent conviction. She also opines that they obtain literary reputation too easily --and that criticism is over-complaisant to their efforts. She gives a striking sketch of a modish bas bleu, with her "speech, a jargon of hard terms and words, of Johnsonian length," which, doubtless, our literary readers will admire for its graphic truth. Women of letters have faults, and we know them thoroughly; but they are not the faults pointed out by Mrs. J. Sandford: and hers is not the way to cure them. She does, however, point out a few instances of female superiority, and names, amongst others, the venerable Joanna Baillie, as (6 a living reminiscence" of The Legend of Sappho':-that lady of the lyre, two lovers, and a leap, has been a great misfortune to after-poetesses; all are compared to her, she to all, and all without justice. 'Again," says our autho

ress, an unsound judgment is found in many women of attainment-[was a man never a clever fool?]. We are surprised to see so much weakness combined with so much acquirement, and to meet a woman who can talk Greek, without being able to act common

sense."

"Talk Greek!" unless the lady mean Romaic, we fancy she would, indeed, be sure

prised, not merely to hear a woman, but even a candidate for the mitre, converse in the language of Homer! If Mrs. Sandford is really acquainted with such a "talking bird," she also probably knows its fellow wonders, the " golden tree and the singing water." But we must conclude; all the faults of the book proceed from a mean notion of female capacity, and a stern estimate of female duties. The book contains many shrewd, sensible remarks; but it will not advance, it will rather impede the progress of really rational treatment and education of women. Mrs. Sandford does not comprehend the transition state, through which women, no less than men, are passing. With the exception of some passages in the chapters on Female Romance, there is a hard, cold, dry spirit afloat. But those passages are admirable, both in feeling and in thought; and though we have deprecated so much in the book, we respect the earnest, well-intentioned, upright author.

Tales of the Alhambra. By Washington Irving. 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1832. Colburn & Bentley.

In the works of Washington Irving there is more polished elegance than rough strength: he is always graceful and neat, flowing and harmonious; he has few errors either in language or in sentiment; his art in blending the humorous with the pathetic is not little, nor is he deficient in knowledge of human nature, nor unskilful in the delineation of human character. He has, however, less of simplicity and vigour than we wish; his imagination cannot exercise much power over the past: his American characters far surpass all his other delineations. The present work dawned on his fancy as he mused amid the magnificent ruins of the Alhambra; it has been his wish to recall the days when the Moors ruled in the fairest provinces of Spain, and when deeds of arms were frequent between them and their Spanish neighbours. To recall the dead to life, to make them move and act in character, requires a genius of a high order; nor can we withhold the praise from the author, of having in several of his stories succeeded in this difficult art. We are, however, of opinion that his success in delineating from the living is at least equal to his drawings from the dead, and were proof of this required, the present volumes would supply it at once. Indeed, we know of few who can equal him in the art of transferring living and breathing flesh and blood to his canvas. On his way to the Alhambra he describes the people and the land-in the following passage Spain lies before us as clear and plain as the landscape at our window:

"And here, before setting forth, let me indulge in a few previous remarks on Spanish scenery and Spanish travelling. Many are apt to picture Spain to their imaginations as a soft southern region, decked out with all the luxuriant charms of voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, though there are exceptions in some of the maritime provinces, yet, for the greater part, it is a stern, melancholy country, with rugged mountains, and long sweeping plains, destitute of trees, and indescribably silent and lonesome, partaking of the savage and solitary character of Africa. What adds to this silence and loneliness, is the absence of singing-birds, a natural consequence of the want of groves and hedges. The vulture and the eagle are

seen wheeling about the mountain-cliffs, and soaring over the plains, and groups of shy bustards stalk about the heaths; but the myriads of smaller birds, which animate the whole face vinces in Spain, and in those chiefly among the of other countries, are met with in but few proorchards and gardens which surround the habitations of man.

"In the interior provinces the traveller occasionally traverses great tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach, waving at times with verdure, at other times naked and sunburnt, but he looks round in vain for the hand that has tilled the soil. At length, he perceives some village on a steep hill, or rugged crag, with mouldering battlements and ruined watch-tower; a strong-hold, in old times, against civil war or Moorish inroad; for the custom among the peasantry of congregating together

for mutual protection, is still kept up in most

ings of roving freebooters. parts of Spain, in consequence of the maraud

"But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garniture of groves and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental cultivation, yet its scenery has something of a high and lofty character to compensate the want. It partakes something of the attributes of its people; and I think that I better understand the proud, hardy, frugal, and abstemious Spaniard, his manly defiance of hardships, and contempt of effeminate indulgences, since I have seen the country he inhabits.

"There is something, too, in the sternly simple features of the Spanish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of sublimity. The immense plains of the Castiles and of La Mancha, extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from their very nakedness and immensity, and have something of the solemn grandeur of the ocean. In ranging over these boundless wastes, the eye catches sight here and there of a straggling herd of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, motionless as a statue, with his long slender pike tapering up like a lance into the air; or, beholds a long train of mules slowly moving along the waste like a train of camels in the desert; or, a single herdsman, armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and prowling over the plain. Thus the country, the habits, the very looks of the people, have something of the Arabian character. The general insecurity of the country is evinced in the universal use of weapons. The herdsman in the field, the shepherd in the plain, has his musket + and his knife. The wealthy villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his trabuco, and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on his shoulder; and the most petty journey is undertaken with the preparation of a warlike enterprise." i. 4—7.

The people, too, are delineated with the same fresh and graphic fidelity :

"The dangers of the road produce also a mode of travelling, resembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the east. The arrieros, or carriers, congregate in convoys, and set off in large and well-armed trains on appointed days; while additional travellers swell their number, and contribute to their strength. In this primitive way is the commerce of the country carried on. The muleteer is the general medium of traffic, and the legitimate traverser of the land, crossing the peninsula from the Pyrenees and the Asturias to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania de Ronda, and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally and hardily: his alforjas of coarse cloth hold his scanty stock of provisions; a leathern bottle hanging at his saddle-bow, contains wine or water, for a supply

+ Mr. Irving is certainly wrong in this assertion, and we need not offer further proof than that no person can carry a gun in Spain without a licence-for which licence he must pay.

across barren mountains and thirsty plains. A mule-cloth spread upon the ground, is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle is his pillow. His low, but clean-limbed and sinewy form betokens strength; his complexion is dark and sunburnt; his eye resolute, but quiet in its expression, except when kindled by sudden emotion; his demeanour is frank, manly, and courteous, and he never passes you without a grave salutation: 'Dios guarde à usted!' Va ustad con Dios, Caballero!' God guard you! God be with you, Cavalier!'

"As these men have often their whole fortune at stake upon the burthen of their mules, they have their weapons at hand, slung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched out for desperate defence. But their united numbers render them secure against petty bands of marauders, and the solitary bandolero, armed to the teeth, and mounted on his Andalusian steed, hovers

about them, like a pirate about a merchant

convoy, without daring to make an assault.

"The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs and ballads, with which to beguile his incessant wayfaring. The airs are rude and simple, consisting of but few inflexions. These he chaunts forth with a loud voice, and

long drawling cadence, seated sideways on his mule, who seems to listen with infinite gravity, and to keep time with his paces, to the tune. The couplets thus chaunted, are often old traditional romances about the Moors, or some legend of a saint, or some love-ditty; or what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold contrabandista, or hardy bandolero, for the smuggler and the robber are poetical heroes among the common people of Spain. Often, the song of the muleteer is composed at the instant, and relates to some local scene, or some incident of the journey. This talent of singing and improvising is frequent in Spain, and is said to have been inherited from the Moors.

There is something wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties among the rude and lonely scenes that they illustrate; accompanied, as they are, by the occasional jingle of the mule-bell.

"It has a most picturesque effect also to meet a train of muleteers in some mountain-pass. First you hear the bells of the leading mules, breaking with their simple melody the stillness of the airy height; or, perhaps, the voice of the muleteer admonishing some tardy or wandering animal, or chaunting, at the full stretch of his lungs, some traditionary ballad. At length you see the mules slowly winding along the cragged defile, sometimes descending precipitous cliffs, so as to present themselves in full relief against the sky, sometimes toiling up the deep arid chasms below you. As they approach, you descry their gay decorations of worsted tufts, tassels, and saddle-cloths, while, as they pass by, the ever-ready trabuco slung behind the packs and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurity of the road." i. 7-11.

The following is a softer picture; the painting has the same fine ease and grace, and light and shade:

"While we were supping with our Drawcansir friend, we heard the notes of a guitar, and the click of castañets, and presently a chorus of voices singing a popular air. In fact, mine host had gathered together the amateur singers and musicians, and the rustic belles of the neighbourhood, and on going forth, the court-yard of the inn presented a scene of true Spanish festivity. We took our seats with mine host and hostess and the commander of the patrol, under the archway of the court; the guitar passed from hand to hand, but a jovial shoe-maker was the Orpheus of the place. He was a pleasant-looking fellow, with huge black whiskers; his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he touched the guitar with masterly skill, and sang little amorous ditties with an

expressive leer at the women, with whom he was evidently a favourite. He afterwards danced a fandango with a buxom Andalusian_damsel, to the great delight of the spectators. But none of the females present could compare with mine host's pretty daughter, Pepita, who had slipped away and made her toilette for the occasion, and had covered her head with roses; and who distinguished herself in a bolero with a hand some young dragoon. We had ordered our host to let wine and refreshment circulate freely among the company, yet, though there was a motley assembly of soldiers, muleteers, and villagers, no one exceeded the bounds of sober enjoyment. The scene was a study for a painter: the picturesque group of dancers, the troopers in their half military dresses, the peasantry wrapped in their brown cloaks; nor must I omit to mention the old meagre Alguazil, in a short black cloak, who took no notice of any

thing going on, but sat in a corner diligently writing by the dim light of a huge copper lamp, that might have figured in the days of

Don Quixote." i. 18-20.

We are not sure that the Tales of the Alhambra' will augment the fame of Washington Irving: they will, however, detract nothing from it, and that is high praise.

CABINET CYCLOPÆDIA.

History of Spain. Vol. II. Longman & Co.

THE same indefatigable research, and the same general accuracy which marked the first volume, and received our warmest commendation, equally distinguish the present. It domination, and the history of the kingdoms embraces a great part of the Mohammedan of Asturias, Leon, and Castile, from Pelayo, narrative is admirably condensed; but no to the death of Ferdinand the Catholic. The power of learning or patience could compress into a pocket volume the many stirring events which marked the period--it, in consequence, but too much resembles a chronological table.

Although we are inclined to give the writer the greatest credit for a rigid examination of his authorities, we are of opinion, that critical scepticism has upon occasions been carried too far; as when he all but denies the existence of the Cid. From what is said of Risco's manuscript, we feel assured that the writer has not read Quintana's work-and we the more regret this, convinced that he would otherwise have abridged that life in his note, rather than have repeated the fabulous exaggerations of the romances. A more important objection, is the want of information, relating to the political institutions. In this respect, the work is emasculated enough to pass under a censorship, and to have had its title-page graced or disgraced with "En la Imprenta Real." We trust this will be corrected, so far as is now possible, in the subsequent volumes. However, after all fair allowances have been made, we think it due to the writer, be he who he may, to repeat, that we know of no History of Spain that equals this for general accuracy and historical research-it was much wanted, and will be a valuable addition to every library.

4 Queer Book. By the Ettrick Shepherd. 1832. Edinburgh, Blackwood; London, Cadell.

Ir has been whispered for some time among our literary coteries, that 'The Queer Book,'

in the announcements of Blackwood, was no other than a satiric work, in which the author of 'The Spy,' and the 'Chaldee Manuscript,' had vowed that he would draw a full-length portrait of our proud metropolis, with all its people, high and low, rich and poor, illiterate and learned. This spread a general alarm amongst all those who had "held the hare and hunted her," with the poet of Altrive. All who had criticized his mountain manners -his Yarrow tone of voice-his attachment to pleasant drinks-his amusing vanity-his love of singing his own songs, and speaking of his own merits or defects, or who had smiled at his ingenious scale of birth-right, by which he proved that he was a greater poet than Burns-all felt qualmish and uneasy: but now the flutter of their bosoms may biting and personal, it is a volume of harmbe stilled, for, instead of being a book bitter, less verse, treating of love, war, and witchcraft. It is, nevertheless, a Queer Book-so wild, and yet so natural- -so strange, and yet so true to popular belief, that we are inclined to rank many of its pages with the most successful of all the poet's attempts, saving always the incomparable Kilmeny.' He offends here, as often as he does elsewhere, against good taste in various of his delineations; nor is he so credible in some of his legends-The Witch of Ezdale Moor,' for instance-as we have seen him; he has also his full quantity of weak lines; but then there is such a mingled dash of pathos and humour-so much real, natural, unaffected vigour, that we cannot help loving the strains of his moorland harp, and rejoicing in his joy, or sorrowing with his sorrow.

There are six and twenty pieces altogether in this volume, and not one of them without merit some of them, indeed, are in conception and handling but little to our liking, such as 'The Witch of Ezdale Moor,' and Jock Tait's imaginary Visit to Hell;' still, genius, and that of a singular kind, is present in the worst. 'Elen of Reigh' is a sweet poem: the commencement, though beautiful, is unequal to the rest :

Have you never heard of Elen of Reigh,
The fairest flower of the North Countrie?
The maid that left all maidens behind,
In all that was lovely, sweet, and kind:
As sweet as the breeze o'er beds of balm,
As happy and gay as the gamesome lamb,
As light as the feather that dances on high,
As blith as the lark in the breast of the sky,
As modest as young rose that blossoms too soon,
As mild as the breeze on a morning of June;
Her voice was the music's softest key,
And her form the comeliest symmetry.

But let bard describe her smile who can,
For that is beyond the power of man;
There never was pen that hand could frame,
Nor tongue that falter'd at maiden's name,
Could once a distant tint convey
Of its lovely and benignant ray.
You have seen the morning's folding vest
Hang dense and pale upon the east,
As if an angel's hand had strewn
The dawning's couch with the eider down,
And shrouded with a curtain gray
The cradle of the infant day?
And 'mid this orient dense and pale,
Through one small window of the veil,
You have seen the sun's first radiant hue
Lightening the dells and vales of dew,
With smile that seem'd through glory's rim
From dwellings of the cherubim ;
And you have thought, with holy awe,
A lovelier sight you never saw,
Scorning the heart who dared to doubt it?
Alas! you little knew about it!
At beauty's shrine you ne'er have knelt,
Nor felt the flame that I have felt;
Nor chanced the virgin smile to see
Of beauty's model, Elen of Reigh!
The poem most to our liking, is called
'Colin and Kate, a Sunday Pastoral;' it is

Whisht, Kate! an' speerna that again-
There's maybe mae to blame than ane;
There are some things 'tween man and maid
Mair natural to be thought than said;
But now, our resting-place is here,-

Come to my side, my comely dear,
Close to my side, nor ance avert
The vision dearest to my heart.

Look round you, Kate; the scene you see

Is wild as mountain scene can be ;
Here sit we in a hollow swarth,
Scoop'd from the bosom o' the earth;
Our palace-wall the shaggy fell;
Our couch of state the heather-bell;
The sounding rivulet, combined
With music of the mountain wind,

The only anthem which we list;

Our canopy the yielding mist;

Yet here, within our desert den,

Far frae the walks and eyes of men,

Think o' our heavenly Maker's kindness,
For a' our sins an' mental blindness:
Beyond the bliss o' kingly bowers

An earthly happiness is ours.

O Katie, when this scene I spy,
Imbedded in thy deep-blue eye
Like a wee vision o' the mind,

A dream of heaven and earth combined,
My ardent soul is all on flame

With a delight that wants a name

A flame so holy an' divine,

An angel's heart might envy mine.
My own wrapt image, too, I see,

As if I stood 'twixt heaven and thee-
Forbid it, a' ye powers above!
An' oh, forgie this tear o' love!

For ne'er was vision so complete

In window of a soul so sweet.

KATE.

Colin, I likena sic pathetics;
When chaps get into their poetics,
They rave on like the winter winds,

An' mischief whiles comes in their minds:
Sae, that I still may haud you dear,
An' keep you sober and sincere,
Kneel down upon that purple lea,
Au' pray to God for you an' me-
The path o' grace has a beginning,
An' praying winna gang wi' sinning;
'Tis sweet an' comely to express
Our homage in the wilderness,
An' train our youthfu' minds away
Frae courting on the Sabbath day.
Colin, without another word,
Kneel'd down upon the lonely sward,
His comely face turn'd to the sky,
With ardour in his dark blue eye;
And thus unto his God he pray'd,
As near as 't can in rhyme be said :—

COLIN.

We have no earthly thing to crave; We are more than happy with what we have: We have youth and health, and love beside, And thee for our father and our guide; Thy own blue heavens smiling o'er us; Religion, hope, and the world before us; And all we can do, is to express Our gratitude and our thankfulness.

One blessing would earthly hope fulfil, If 'tis accordant with thy will:

May we two, kneeling thee before,

Be join'd as one for evermore!

And that a prospect may remain,

Of acting earthly scenes again;

May she be as a fruitful vine

All love, all fondness is outdone
By mother's o'er her first born son:
That glow is bright, its workings kind,
Calm, chasten'd, ardent, yet refined.
I think-O! may I be forgiven-
That nought can lovelier be in heaven,
Far less upon the earth below;
Methinks I see the vision now-

What, Katie, do ye rue our meeting? I think ye're fuffing now, an' greeting?

KATE.

Tuts! what for will ye speak sae queer,
Of things unmeet for maiden's ear?

I canna bide that stuff sae sensuous,

It sounds like something that's licentious:
Yet these are truths the heart that strike--
Ye may pray for babies gin ye like.

We have praised the verse of this volume: it has other merits-the printing is truly beautiful; the paper excellent, and the whole getting up superior to any work we have had lately from the shop of Blackwood.

Calabria during a Military Residence of Three Years; in a Series of Letters. By a General Officer of the French Army. From an Original MS. London, 1832. Wilson.

WE opened this volume with good hopes, and have not been disappointed. A military residence in Calabria in the years 1807, 8, 9 and 10, was not indeed likely to offer a French officer any very advantageous opportunities for studying the manners and character of the people, or of pushing his researches much beyond the direct line of his military adventures: but, galloped over as Italy has been of late years, Calabria still remains a terra incognita; and we could not fail to glean some information from any work written in plain sincerity, and without affectation. To this praise the present volume is fairly

entitled. The character of the work is written intelligibly in every page: there is no pretension about it; it is not eked out with weighty compilations and discussions about the locality of ancient cities, and the ancient names of mountain torrents; it is a living picture, such as Calabria presented it to the writer; his three years' residence is fairly described as a brisk brigand hunt from first to last-adventures by flood and field in a country of romantic beauty and interest, with the faithful observations of a sensible man on the cities and people as they passed under his observations. It is not, therefore, a work to be critically examined, and, after an acknowledgment that we have passed some hours very pleasantly in the reading of it, we shall proceed at once to make a few extracts.

The following account of the passage of Campoternese will a little startle those who have faith in the eternal sunshine of southern Italy; and our own experience can testify to its general accuracy :

"On the morning of the 2nd of December I was directed to ascertain whether the passage of the torrent was practicable. The country people who accompanied me sounded the fordable parts, and assured me the water had considerably subsided, so that in two hours more we could pass over in perfect safety. Eventually the battalion got off from this dangerous spot without any accident; but the greatest difficulties yet awaited us. As the torrent had retarded our march, we had yet twenty miles to go before we could reach our provision depôt at Castrovillari, and at this season it is dark before

five o'clock.

"As we advanced, a hail-storm of the most piercing cold, pelted incessantly against our

limbs, which were already benumbed from crossing the torrent. The tempest still continued to increase in violence, till, sweeping over the immense plateau which crowned the mountain, it blew a tremendous hurricane, terribly grand and appalling. We were too far advanced to retire. It would, however, have been prudent to return to the village of Rotonda, but we feared that repeated delays on our march, might subject us to censure. We advanced then, with extreme difficulty, struggling against a furious wind, which dashed its sharp, penetrating hail against our faces. Several soldiers, overcome with cold, and whose energies were exhausted, dropped down from faintness, and perished in the midst of the snow, before any assistance could be rendered to them. The near approach of night made our position the more critical. At length, after having struggled for three hours, against all the agonies of death, the battalion gained the other side of this direful mountain, whence a rapid descent brought us speedily to the plain below. * *

"We were very uneasy about the fate of those men who had remained behind, and of our baggage: they only arrived after having made a considerable round to avoid the torrents and the marshy swamps of the plain. The officer commanding the escort informed us, that the muleteers, declaring their inability to encounter the storm, had pointed out the huts of some charcoal-burners, where the detachment took refuge. The following day, on crossing the mountain, he found twenty-two soldiers of the battalion stretched dead in the snow." p. 12-19.

So little is known of the cities of Calabria, that we shall extract a notice of one or two.

Nicastro.

"Nicastro is a large, well-built town, situated hills with which it is almost surrounded, and at the entrance of hither Calabria. The woody the lofty towers of an old castle that commands it, give to the place an appearance quite romantic and picturesque.

"We have spent two days in exploring the localities of the bay, with which it is necessary that we make ourselves well acquainted. The mountains that environ it stretch out towards the sea on the one side as far as Cape Suvero, and on the other as far as the point on which the little town of Pizzo is built. This space, forming a circular tract of about twenty-five miles, is partly covered by a thick forest, and traversed by two rivers, the Angitola and the Amato,

whose waters, not having sufficient vent, render the soil marshy and the air humid: two circumstances which, though favourable to vegetation, are still most injurious to health, for they never fail to generate diseases in the hot months. That part which is not inundated, produces Turkey corn in abundance, and this constitutes the principal support of the inhabitants; in the low grounds there are large plantations of rice, and we met with some sugar-canes which were perfectly well-grown. Olives, rising to the height of forest-trees, spread over all the upper tracts, but the oil is of a bad flavour, and used only in manufactories. A number of farm-houses and fine country-seats are scattered over the whole plain, particularly in the neighbourhood of Nicastro. This charming region, from which the confined waters might very easily be removed by a free issue, never experiences any of the rigours of winter. So soon as the autumnal rains have ceased, the softest and most equal temperature renders it a delightful abode. The mountains, on which are seen a great number of villages and detached dwellings, present a singularly pleasing aspect; and from the great fertility of the soil, the inhabitants might lay up abundant and varied stores, did they but know how to avail themselves of the vast bounty offered to them by indulgent nature." 73-75.