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ciated, must have been heard; once heard, never can be forgotten. All this time, the awful responsibility of his situation invested his brow with the most unalterable serenity, and crowned the whole man with a sublime elevation of respect, that pointed to the fame of acts shedding glory on himself, honor and reputation on his country.

The characteristics of his style, are its rapid harmony, its lucid arrangement, and its freedom from affected phraseology. It is pure, classical, transparent, and musical, almost to faultiness. There are no foreign idioms to be met with in it -or any meretricious ornaments; all is chaste and English :.- Genus eloquendi secutus est “elegans et temperatum, vitatis sententiarum ineptiis, atque inconcin“nitato et neconditorum verborum, ut ipse dicit toribus. Præci"puam que curam ducis sensum animi quam apertissime exprimere." His language is unrivalled for its happy adaptation to the occasion; and is, when necessary, figurative, pointed, and expressive to perfecs tion. Having a fine ear for the collocation of words, and a most felicitous taste in their selection, his sentences are framed in accordance with the highest rules of art, and yet so plain and evident, that even Sir Thomas Lethbridge can comprehend them. The great beauty is, that all this harmonious flowing of his periods is unostentatious, and apparently without design or effort; so that he captivates no less by his unpedantic simplicity and artless earnestness of manner ;-the “ modicum vehemens in flectendo in quo una vis ommis oratoris est;" --than by his modest insinuating confidence, by the turn of his sentences and the happiness of his language. His hearers are by this means unawares persuaded, because they are agreeably amused and agitated, and convinced, because they are thus persuaded; so that their assent is with difficulty withheld, and is often granted they scarcely perhaps know why---or even to what purpose. There is a charm or peculiarity of captivation, not very capable of being described, in Mr. Canning's eloquence, that we have not observed in any other orator. His audience is held in a kind of enchanted suspense between evanescent pleasure and thrilling expectation; so that while the memory is fondly dwelling on the charm that is filed, the fancy and the ear are fascinated with the expectation of what is to follow. The effect of this is similar in kind to that of witnessing the wreathings and convolutions of a column of smoke ;---or the momentary beauties and splendours of fireworks, amid the darkness of night;---or rather to the enchanting power of graceful motion in the human figure--heightened as it is by the living expression which it exhibits---an expression ever renewed and ever varied ---of taste and mental elegance. În argument, Mr. Canning in general lightens rather than reasons on his subject; “ as if he feared” (as was said of another great genius,) “that the slow method of induction and argument would interrupt him “ in his progress, and throw obstacles in the way of his career. This greatly depends upon the nature of the subject: if it demand it, he is remarkable for the logical arrangement of his facts and arguments; if it be one that affords occasion for the display of his wit, brilliant, burning flashes illuminate it, no less by their irresistible splendour

than their happiness and their adaptation. These Aashes electrify where they do not convince---batter, where they do not effect a breach; and by always leaving a sense of admiration, acuteness, and splendour, render his vehement reasonings irresistible. No man unites more happily, or with less appearance of art, the solemnity of the appeal with the vividness of the flash---rapid harmony, exactly addressed to the sense---and freedom of remark with the unity of a continued strain of argument, and the bold playfulness of familiar discourse, with the Chatham majesty of sound.--the “ monarch voice" of a great statesman.

His style, as was said of another great orator, is so perfectly musical, and moves to such a sprightly, animated, and interesting measure, that, as has been observed of Greek, there would be delight in hearing it read, even to one who did not understand it. Like the stone of Sisyphus, his sentences roll down of themselves, rebound and mount again on the other side :

Αύτις έπειτα πεδoνδε κυλίνδετο γάας αναιδήρ. . We will conclude our account of this great orator and statesman by observing, that as he is now but in his 56th or 57th year,---in the autumn fulness of his powers, much more is to be confidently expected from him.

VOL. 11,


The warrior rode on with the speed of the blast, O'er hills, vallies, mountains, like lightning he passed, Till be reached the red lake where all terribly gleam, The turrets of steel o'er the flame rolling stream. He sounded his horn, on the battlement's height Appeared false Demara accoutred for fight : “Give my wife and my child back,” Sir Reginald cried, “ First cross yon red torrent,” Demara replied. “I am proof to thy magic, thou false hearted lord ! “On the walls of Jerusalem flash'd this good sword.” He plunged in the lake, the flames innocent rolld, Thus again spoke Demara, still vauntingly bold ; “ Thou hast crossed my red torrent, now enter my halls,” And demons, and giants, appear'd on the walls, And darkness hung round him, while arrowy

show'rs Fell on Reginald's mail from the magical tow'rs. “ Foul fiend thou hast failed-O virgin, to thee “ A crusader appeals,” and he sunk on his knee The darkness disperses—the demons are goneOn the turret of steel stood Demara alone. “ Thou hast vanquished my demons, now try if thy sword “ Can as easily vanquish Demara their lord; “ Unfold my steel turrets !" the turrets obeyed, And a hall and a furnace of fame they displayed. Sir Reginald enters---Demara descends, “ In this hall not even thy virgin defends, For know, this the fates to Demara revealed, “ Thy life nor to man, nor to woman, shall yield.” “ Then a child thus destroys thee !" and swift to his heart Sir Reginald's son wings the death-bearing dart. Loud shriek'd he in death, and mid laughter and scorn, By fiends to the furnace Demara is borne. Swift flashed the red lightning, the thunder roar'd loud, The steel castle sunk in a sulphurous cloud; And when all was silent, Sir Reginald press'd His wife and his gallant son safe to bis breast.

M. G. L. Jun.


There are several supposed quotations current in society, which are not to be found in the works from which they are supposed to be taken. Every one has heard, seen, and perhaps quoted the famous lines

“ He that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day;
But he that fights until he's slain,

Will never live to fight again." These were long attributed to Butler, and were said to be in Butler's Hudibras; but this, after a rigid examination, has been found not to be the case; the only lines which have any resemblance to them, being

“ But he that runs may fight again,
Which he can never do that's slain."

Not less celebrated is the following apostrophe, or rather exclamation, on England :

“ O barbare Angleterre, où le fatal couteau,

Tranche la tête aux vois, et la queue aux chevaux !" These have been erroneously stated to be in Voltaire's Henriade. The real author of them was a French poet, called Descazeaux, on the following occasion. Several individuals at a large party were complaining, that Crebillon did not finish his long-promised tragedy of Cromwell. Armand, a facetious gentleman of that species of jesters called hoaxers, turned to Descazeaux, and said, “ Ah! if you had " but the inclination, that subject would be finely treated in your " hands.” “ And why not?” said Descazeaux, swelling with gratified vanity; “ I can, at least, manage it more quickly.”

Some days afterwards, Descazeaux drew his pretended admirer aside: “ Here,” said he, “ is my first act already finished; you may " judge of the high style I have aimed at, and expect to sustain, by " this monologue alone, which serves, in some manner, as a prologue “ to my play.”

What were the astonishment and delight of the malicious Armand, on reading the following verses :

“ Barbare Nation, don les sanglans couteaux,

Coupent la tête aun Rois, et la queue aux chevaux !" The verses few round Paris like wildfire, and have ever since been repeatedly quoted as a jest by Voltaire; whereas they were, as above stated, the serious results of a genius more qualified to admire than to write poetry.


When Molierè’s " Misanthropewas first produced, Molierè and Racine were at variance with each other. A flatterer in the hopes of pleasing Racine, told him after the representation, that the play had been condemned. “I was there,” he added, “and can assure you “ nothing could be more dull.” Racine answered, “You were there, " and I was not there, yet I do not believe you. It is not possible “ for Moliere to write ill. See it again, and judge better.”

A TYRANT'S JOKE. Pope Innocent the VIth sent to Bernardo Visconti, two Abbots as messengers, bearing with them letters of excommunication. They met him surrounded by his followers, on the bridge of Lambri. Bernardo was highly incensed in perusing the letters, but concealing his anger under a polite demeanour, he asked the messengers whether they were hungry or thirsty? The messengers, however, casting a glance at the river rolling deep below, suspected the manner in which the tyrant meditated assuaging their thirst, and declared they were hungry. si Good," answered the duke, “then eat the letters of your employer:” and the poor abbots were immediately compelled to swallow the tough and nauseous parchment with the seals, to the very great amusement of the surrounding courtiers and followers of Visconti.



Chief among

I was quartered with Prince Eric's regiment of Hussars in garrison. The town was pleasant, had an agreeable situation, picturesque environs, gay and hospitable inhabitants; but what was of most importance to a young officer, and made it like a very paradise, was the number of pretty girls which it contained. them for beauty shone the beautiful widow of General von Unstrutt, who lived in great privacy with two daughters; the eldest of whom had lately been married to the captain of my squadron. Since that time, the lovely family mixed very seldom in general society; we, young Lieutenants and Hussars, sought the charming Matilda in every ball which was given, but in vain. Nothing remained to us but daily to parade before the windows of her dwelling on horseback, and to receive a modest courtesy, or a friendly smile, which were eagerly seized by each as a proof of favor; a thing easily imagined by young, impetuous, good-looking, handsomely-accoutred Hussars in their first campaign. Each flattered himself with making an impression upon

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