to the sensibility of the person on whom it is exercised. It is well known that Dowton was much esteemed by lord Byron, who passed many strong encomiums on the originality of his talent; indeed his lordship often observed that he would pay more deference to the judgement of Dowton than to that of any comedian of the present day. The following anecdote will serve to prove his knowlege of mankind in general, and his opinion of Dowton in particular. He called upon Dowton, and in a very mysterious manner, and with an unusual gravity on his countenance, hastily greeted him, saying, 'Dowton, I have a desperate thing to ask!-I want you to confer on me a great favor!-It's tremendous-a dreadful undertaking.' Dowton, whose curiosity was in no small degree excited by these ejaculations, assured his lordship with a serious aspect that he would be most happy to do whatever lay in his power. Lord Byron, delighted at the feelings he had awakened, without appearing to notice Dowton's remark and extreme anxiety, continued, 'You are one of those enterprising characters who would not easily flinch from a hazardous undertaking!-one that would not stick at a trifle! I know you ridesing-drink-shoot-play-walk-hunt -and all without inconvenience or fa tigue! You go about every thing with such peculiar ease and good humor.' Dowton, who by this time was completely placed upon the tenter-hooks of expectation, could no longer suffer himself to be kept in suspense. Rubbing his hands, distorting his countenance, and shifting from place to place, in the paroxysms of anxious curiosity, so ludicrously genuine in Dowton's best style, he impatiently exclaimed, 'Yes, my lord, but what dreadful thing is this I

I am to have the honor of undertaking for your lordship?' Lord Byron, having thus succeeded to the ne plus ultra of his object, and enjoying the ludicrous and eager inquiry so strongly depicted in the comedian's countenance and manner, put into his hands the tragedy of Bertram. Dowton took the paper, but his imagination was still in the clouds; his countenance did not resume its usual composure till lord Byron commenced his narrative. The favor I require,' exclaimed his lordship, is that you read this manuscript to-night, and give me your opinion of its merits by twelve o'clock to-morrow.' Upon seeing the

length of the tragedy, the lateness of the hour,-the short period allowed him to read and digest a five-act tragedy, and wishing at the same time not to injure his reputation in this new character of tragic critic to his lordship, Dowton looked with all his eyes; he did not exactly sigh, but he looked, and looked again, first at the manuscript and then at lord Byron, and at length, with becoming respect, and that modesty which always accompanies real talent, he exclaimed, 'My lord, you will, I am sure, pardon me if I decline giving an opinion on a point where your lordship's judgement must ever rank pre-eminently above all others! This is a tragedy; had it been a comedy I should have felt less scruple.' Lord Byron, however, would take no denial, and assured him that he entertained the highest opinion of his discernment and good taste on all theatrical subjects, and that he would take his judgement in preference to his own, or that of any other man on the stage."

*

"At the time lord Byron was one of the managing committee of Drury-Lane theatre, Mrs. Mardyn had leave of absence for a fortnight, and he had a necessity of quitting London about the same period. This circumstance gave rise to a report that the said lady and his lordship had eloped together, and were absolutely living at Bath: that there was no secret in the matter, as they were seen in the streets and elsewhere daily.' Now these reports, though false and malicious, gave him little or no uneasiness: in proof of which, I shall relate an event that offered him the most certain opportunities of contradicting them, had he thought it worth his while. I had the honor to be with him one morning, when Mr. Dowtou's name was announced: he entered the drawingroom, and was received with great kindness; he, however, proposed to retire, observing that his visit at that moment was on business, but, finding his lordship engaged, he would take another opportunity. "Oh no!' replied lord Byron, you shall not go: never mind Nathan; he has been composing-you love music and poetry, and you must listen to what he has done.'- I should be much gratified,' answered Dowton: 'but I must, with your lordship's permission, relate a little anecdote, and read you a letter, in which I am, as well as your lordship, a little concerned, and

which, I am proud to say, will enable me most clearly to demonstrate to the world the falsity of these reports in circulation respecting your lordship and Mrs. Mardyn; for, by heavens! my son Harry has been the gallant, and not your lordship; and he is at this moment on a living speculation with her round the Kentish coast.' Dowton here seemed in breathless anxiety to open a letter which he pulled from his pocket in a most animated manner, but could not restrain his feelings, and thus continued:

his grandmother writes me here, that my son Harry sends her word from Dover that he is going to Folkstone, Hastings, and so on, to visit his father in London, in company with a friend; but that she had discovered that friend to be Mrs. Mardyn, who had been acting in Canterbury in the previous week,' Here Dowton made a full stop for a moment, and gave lord Byron one of his peculiar goodhumored looks, exclaiming with great archness-There, my lord! what think you of my Harry? There's a young dog -his father's son -a chip of the old block.' He then almost in the same breath thus continued; But what added to the horror his grandmother felt at the consequences, was, that he had obtained from her fifty pounds, under some specious pretence-doubtless to defray the cost of this hopeful adventure.'-Well, Dowton,' remarked his lordship, highly amused at the honest narration of his naughty son's doings; 'what would you have me to do in this affair ?'-' Why, my lord,' returned Dowton, use this adventure in any way you please, as a contradiction to the d-d calumnies heaped on yourself.' Poor Dowton, in the concluding sentence, appeared very indignant: he paced the room, drew his hand across his forehead by way of cooling his rage, and warmly exclaimed against his lordship's calumniators.

Though my boy,' continued Dowton, 'is only eighteen, and has begun his vagaries rather early, I confess, yet if your lordship chooses to use this matter, as I have before said, in any way you think proper, pray do so; for it is, after all, only a boyish folly, and cannot injure my son; therefore, my lord, pray stand upon no ceremony! As to his grandmother, she may lecture him herself; for my part I shall not notice it; he has only done what I have done before him. It's my way-it's all our ways-it runs in the blood of the Abso

THE story of the "poor blind" Belisarius is probably well known to most of our readers. It has been adorned by the fancy of Marmontel, and displayed in a truer light by Gibbon. Lord Mahon says, that, if this historian had treated of the period in question with that fullness of detail which distinguishes some other portions of his work, any farther attempt to record its events would be both unnecessary and presumptuous. But, "although the space he has allotted to them is well proportioned to his general limits and design, yet he has dwelt so lightly on several important transactions, has omitted so many circumstances, and has merely alluded to so many others not unworthy of attention, that this interesting period may, perhaps, be thought to require a more particular narrative. careful consideration of the original authorities has also led me in some cases to new conclusions; and thus, for instance, the mendicity and loss of sight of Belisarius, which every writer for the last century and a half has treated as a fable, may, I conceive, be established on firm historical grounds. An ancient and authentic testimony to that effect is now brought forward, which, though already printed, has hitherto been overlooked in the examination of this question."

A

His lordship's arguments in support of the old story are plausible, but not so satisfactory as to remove all doubt. If it be true, it only furnishes an additional instance of the occasional ingratitude of the ruling power in the ancient govern

ments.

The interesting story of a Gothic princess affords a favorable specimen of the work. In her case, ambition overleaped itself. She did not sufficiently attend to the altered state of the public mind, and her policy was not equal to her courage.

"The first act of Amalasontha, on assuming the regency, was to apprise the emperor Justinian of her son's accession, and request the continuance of the treaties and good understanding between him and the Goths. His alliance was readily granted her, so long as her influence and power seemed unshaken, but began to waver as her fortune declined. These haughty barbarians, whose ancestors had cheerfully submitted to queens, and had thereby, according to the harsh prejudice of Tacitus, sunk below slavery itself, now bore with impatience the dominion of a woman. The youth and beauty of Amalasontha appeared better fitted to adorn than to support a throne; and her lofty courage and superior talents were stained by the female frailties of capriciousness, cunning, and revenge. By her secret orders, three of the most powerful nobles, whose rivalry she feared, were treacherously seised, and executed without trial; their partisans were justly irritated by their fate, and so nearly was she overcome by domestic faction, that, on several occasions, she meditated flight to Constantinople, and had once already despatched a vessel, laden with her treasures, to the coast of Epirus. Her genius, howeveд, succeeded in surmounting all these difficulties; but they could not fail to excite hopes of conquest in Justinian, who had probably intended to vindicate her cause, for his own advantage, had she taken shelter at his court, and who afterwards eagerly availed himself against her of the pretext which the seisure of Lily bæum afforded. This claim, which had first been urged by Belisarius at Car thage, was prosecuted with vigor at Constantinople; nor was the emperor sparing in threats or warlike preparations, until a sudden change of circumstances induced him to alter his tone, and to perceive that his object would be most effectually attained under the mask of friendship for the Gothic queen. This singular revolution will require some detail. In the education of her son, Amalasontha had been desirous to enlarge his mind by liberal studies: but the loud clamors of the principal Goths, their opinion that learning was incompatible with valor, and their appeals to the ignorance of their ancestors, at last compelled her to abandon any idea of instruction, and to leave the royal stripling almost, without control.. The consequences may be easily foreseen. Atha

VOL. X

laric launched forth in pursuit of pleasure, with all the passionate ardor of early youth; his health sank beneath his intemperance, and he expired after a nominal reign of eight years, at the age of eighteen. It was the object of his mother to prolong her authority after his death; but, as the Gothic laws now excluded females from the throne, she could only hope to govern under the protection of some other name. For this purpose she cast her eyes on Theodatus, the nephew of the great Theodoric, and offered to proclaim herself and him joint sovereigns of Italy, provided that he would bind himself by a solemn oath, to content himself with the honors of roy alty, without aspiring to its power and prerogatives. His advanced age, his secluded studies, his want of resolution, and his unpopularity with the Italians, were amongst his chief recommendations to her favor; for these qualities seemed auspicious to her views. She had lately, it is true, deeply wounded' both his interest and his pride, by a sentence against him for some acts of oppression in his Tuscan domains; but she trusted that the preference which she shewed, and the rank to which she raised him, would change his resentment into gratitude. She was not aware that, with most minds, there can be no greater aggravation of an injury than a subse quent benefit. Theodatus subscribed to every condition, swore every oath which she required, and, having concerted his measures during a few months of seeming deference and respect, suddenly massacred her most faithful attendants, and confined her a close prisoner in an island of the lake of Bolsena. His attentive consideration spared her, at least, the pangs of suspense and un certainty; within a few days from her arrival, she was stifled in a bath, by the order of her thankless colleague."

We hope we shall not offend his lordship by saying that, although he is not deficient in literary talent, he has not that mental vigor by which Gibbon was distinguished, and while he imitates the style of that author, does not so forcibly wield the historic pen.

25

1

ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN.

SOME have said that Sir Walter Scott has already carried his literary labors to too great an extent, and that, by continuing his career, he exposes his high fame to the risque of decline. But we answer this remark by applying to the worthy baronet the compliment paid by George the Third to Dr. Johnson:-"I should have agreed with you that you had written enough, if you had not written so well." The faculties of the author of Waverley are unimpaired: he can still amuse and instruct the public; and we therefore see no reason for the discon tinuance of his labors. The stern critic may haughtily abstain from the perusal of the new romance, and leave it to the admiration of less fastidious judges, at whose want of taste he may coldly sneer; but the generality of readers will spurn at such dictation, rush into the midst of the offered entertainment, and pursue their course with few (if any) symptoms of weariness or disgust. Their attention will be rewarded with curious displays of men and manners, traits of nature and passion, remarkable incidents, interesting dialogues, and picturesque descriptions.

Thirty years ago, our author first appeared before the public in a literary character. He translated the tragedy of Goertz of Berlichingen from the German; but the publication excited little notice. He has now borrowed a story from what may be called the German part of Switzerland, and has produced a very agreeable melange of history and fiction.

We are introduced at the outset to the stupendous scenery of the Alps, over which two Englishmen, the elder and the younger Philipson, are on their way, under the appearance of merchants, to the court of Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, being intrusted with a secret and hazard. ous commission. A storm bursts out which terrifies even the guide to whom the dangers of the spot are familiar. The young adventurer attempts to ascend a precipice, where the peril is extreme, in order to reach the castle of Geierstein (Rock of the Vulture), in the hope of obtaining succour for his father. His danger, as he proceeds, is finely described. -"At length he gained a point where a rock formed the angle of a precipice. The rock projected more than six feet over a torrent which he heard raging at the depth of a hundred yards beneath. He examined the spot with the utmost care, and wa

led by the existence of shrubs, grass, and even stunted trees, to believe that this rock marked the farthest extent of the slip or slide of earth, and that, could he but round the angle of which it was the ter mination, he might hope to attain the continuation of the path which had been so strangely interrupted by a convulsion of nature. But the crag jutted out so much as to afford no possibility of passing either under or around it; and, as it rose several feet above the position which Arthur had attained, it was no easy matter to climb over it. This was, however, the course which he chose, as the only mode of surmounting what he hoped might prove the last obstacle to his voyage of discovery. A projecting tree afforded him the means of raising and swinging himself up to the top of the crag. But he had scarcely planted himself on it, had scarcely a moment to congratulate himself, on seeing (amid a wild chaos of cliffs and woods) the gloomy ruins of Geierstein, with smoke arising, and indicating something like a human habitation beside them, when, to his extreme terror, he felt the huge cliff on which he stood tremble, stoop slowly for ward, and gradually sink from its position. Projecting as it was, and shaken as its equilibrium had been by a recent earthquake, it lay now so insecurely poised, that its balance was entirely destroyed, even by the addition of the young man's weight. Aroused by the imminence of the danger, Arthur, by an instinctive attempt at self-preservation, drew cautiously back from the falling crag into the tree by which he had ascended, and turned his head back as if spell-bound, to watch the descent of the fatal rock from which he had just retreated. It tottered for two or three seconds, as if uncertain which way to fall; and, had it taken a sidelong direction, must have dashed the adventurer from his place of refuge, or borne both the tree and him headlong down into the river. After a moment of horrible uncertainty, the power of gravitation determined a direct and forward descent. Down went the huge fragment, which must have weighed at least twenty tons, rending and splintering in its precipitate course the trees and bushes which it encountered, and settling at length in the channel of the torrent, with a din equal to the discharge of a hundred pieces of artillery. The sound was re-echoed from bank to bank, from precipice to precipice, with emulative thunders; nor was the tumult silent till it rose into the region of eternal snows,

which, equally insensible to terrestrial sounds, and unfavorable to animal life, heard the roar in their majestic solitude, but suffered it to die away without a responsive voice."

The youth, clinging in wild alarm to his very insecure position, "could not fix his giddy and bewildered eyes on the scene around him; they seemed to reel till the landscape danced with them, and a motley chaos of thickets and tall cliffs, which interposed between him and the ruinous castle, mixed and whirled round in such confusion, that nothing, save the consciousness that such an idea was the suggestion of partial insanity, prevented him from throwing himself from the tree, as if to join the wild dance to which his disturbed brain had given motion. Heaven be my protector!' said the unfortunate young man, closing his eyes, in hopes, by abstracting himself from the terrors of his situation, to compose his too active imagination; my senses are abandoning me!'-He became still more convinced that this was the case, when a female voice, in a high-pitched but éminently musical accent, was heard at no great distance, as if calling to him. He opened his eyes once more, raised his head, and looked toward the place whence the sounds seemed to come, though far from being certain that they existed saving in his own disordered imagination. The vision which appeared had almost confirmed him in the opinion that his mind was unsettled, and his senses in no state to serve him accurately.

"Upon the very summit of a pyramidical rock that rose out of the depth of the valley, was seen a female figure, so obscured by mist, that only the outline could be traced. The form, reflected against the sky, appeared rather the undefined lineaments of a spirit than of a mortal maiden; for her person seemed as light, and scarcely more opake, than the thin cloud that surrounded her pedestal. Arthur's first belief was, that the Virgin had heard his vows, and had descended in person to his rescue; and he was about to recite his Ave Maria, when the voice again called to him with the singular shrill modulation of the mountain halloo, by which the natives of the Alps can hold conferences from one mountain ridge to another, across ravines of great depth and width.

While he debated how to address thi unexpected apparition, it disappeared from the point which it at first occupied, and presently after became again visible,

perched on the cliff out of which projected the tree in which Arthur had taken refuge. Her personal appearance, as well as her dress, made it then apparent that she was a maiden of these mountains, familiar with their dangerous paths. He saw that a beautiful young woman stood before him, who regarded him with a mixture of pity and wonder.- Stranger,' she at length said, 'who are you, and whence come you?'-'I am a stranger, maiden, as you justly term me," answered the young man, raising himself as well as he could. I left Lucerne this morning, with my father and a guide. I parted with them not three furlongs hence. May it please you, gentle maiden, to warn them of my safety, for I know my father will be in despair upon my account?'Willingly,' said the maiden; but I think my uncle, or some one of my kinsmen, must have already found them, and will prove faithful guides. Can I not aid you? are you wounded-are you hurt? We were alarmed by the fall of a rockay, and yonder it lies, a mass of no ordinary size.'

"As the Swiss maiden spoke thus, she approached so close to the verge of the precipice, and looked with such indifference into the gulf, that the sympathy which connects the actor and spectator upon such occasions brought back the sickness and vertigo from which Arthur had just recovered, and he sank back into his former more recumbent posture, with something like a faint groan. 'You are then ill?" said the maiden, who observed him turn pale-where and what is the harm you have received?'-' None, gentle maiden, saving some bruises of little import; but my head turns, and my heart grows sick, when I see you so near the verge of the cliff.'- Is that all?' repliedthe Swiss maiden. 'Know, stranger, that I do not stand on my uncle's hearth with more security than I have stood upon precipices, compared to which this is a child's leap. You too, stranger, if, as I judge from the traces, you have come along the edge of the precipice which the earth-slide hath laid bare, ought to be far beyond such weakness, since surely you must be well entitled to call yourself a cragsman.' I might have called myself so half an hour since,' answered Arthur; 'but I think I shall hardly venture to assume the name in future.' Be not downcast,' said his kind adviser, for a passing qualm, which will at times cloud the spirit and dazzle the eyesight