LITERARY CRITICISM.

Restalrig; or, The Forfeiture. By the Author of St
Johnstoun; or, John Earl of Gowric. In two vols.
Edinburgh. Maclachlan and Stewart. 1829.

We know of few things more disagreeable than to be obliged to find fault where we had wished only to bestow praise. It is the hardest part of a critic's duty, and that for which few are disposed to blame him, if he is found wanting; his leniency being pronounced, at most, a weakness, that leans to virtue's side. But this is dangerous doctrine; and if a critic ever hopes to have his judgment relied on, or to be able to do good service to the literature of his country, and fight a good fight for its intellectual superiority, he must steel his heart against a useless clemency to individuals, that he may be able to advance more triumphantly the general cause. Suppose several of our most influential reviewers were to laud to the skies, from motives of private humanity, a particular book, whose merits were, in point of fact, greatly outweighed by its faults, what would be the result? The press would be inundated with a multiplicity of works, all indicating talent of a similar inferior order; and if similar commendations were not bestowed upon them, their respective authors (who probably ought never to have published at all,) would be able to convict the reviewers of inconsistency, and might justly complain of having been misled and deceived by them. And thus, what was originally meant as a kindness to an individual would turn out to be a positive injury inflicted on a number. If, to avoid this, the reviewers still continued to praise, then all literary distinctions would be lost or confounded, and the man of genius would rank no higher than the dolt.

longed to the better sex. If it be a sin, we plead guilty to the sin of loving female writers, though we are rather disposed to account it a virtue. Nor do we consider it exactly fair to judge of them by the same rigid rules which may be applied to the lucubrations of those who are ironically termed their lords and masters. With the exception of one or two old stagers, for whom we own no compassion, ladies have many difficulties to contend with in coming before the public, of which male creatures may easily get the better. Restricted as the former are to a much inferior knowledge of life and of the world, their choice of subjects is much more limited, their style and expressions must be much more guarded, and their delineations of the more hidden passions of human nature, must, in many instances, be much more feeble and imperfect. Female talent, therefore, with a few brilliant exceptions, ought always to be spoken of comparatively, in reference to itself, and not to that of Mrs Logan, the reputed authoress of "St Johnstoun," and "Restalrig," we were aware possessed abi lities that raised her far above mediocrity; and as she is, moreover, one of the few authoresses that Scotland has of late years produced and kept to itself, we were anxious that her second production, "Restalrig," should prove still superior to her first, and be of a nature calculated to establish her literary reputation on a sure and lasting basis. These hopes were perhaps too, sanguine, and at all events we are afraid we must say they have been disappointed.

men.

"Restalrig; or, the Forfeiture," is meant to be an historical novel; yet there is not introduced into it a single historical incident of any moment, and in so far as the plot is concerned, (which is certainly meagre enough,) the story, instead of commencing in the year 1608, might just as well have commenced at any other period. In "St Johnstoun," the interesting historical event of the Gowrie conspiracy was the nucleus round which the rest of the tale was wound; but in "Restalrig" there is no nucleus at all, unless the simple circumstance of that estate being declared a " forfeiture" is considered a nucleus. In an historical novel, the author may, if he please, introduce characters of his own creating, and invest them with as much fictitious interest as he can ; but he must, at the same time, give the historical personages whom he brings upon the stage something to do, and if they are not to be his heroes and heroines, they must at least be essentially connected with the fate of these important individuals. This is a rule which can never properly be dispensed with; yet it has been entirely overlooked in "Restalrig," probably because the plot altogether seems to have been hastily formed, and still worse digested. To a certain extent, it is a continuation of St Johnstoun;" but it is a continuation where no continuation was required, and which ought not to have been undertaken, unless subsequent historical events adWe hesitate not to confess, that we sat down to per-mitted of a story being developed, equally interesting use Restalrig" "with a prepossession in its favour. with that of the Gowrie conspiracy. So far, however, This prepossession arose principally from the circum- is this from being the case, that after reading these two stance of our having been informed that the author be- volumes, it is impossible to understand why "Restalrig,"

It becomes, therefore, a moral obligation on the part of the conscientious reviewer, fearlessly to state those objections which may occur to him as applicable to any work which comes under his observation. He will, no doubt, do this in some cases much more willingly than in others. If a conceited coxcomb or dogmatical pedant shows himself determined to kick against the pricks, there can be no harm in allowing a few of the pricks to take effect where they will be most felt; but if the efforts of zealous and honest industry, anxious for distinction, fall considerably short of the end at which they aim, it is a far more painful task to point out its imperfections, and to dash from its hand the cup of hope that seemed to mantle high. Yet, as we have already said, it is a task which must be performed, though with all kindly and benevolent feelings, and the everpresent conviction that the end alone would justify the

means.

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Bruce of their martial bravery, and the high stations frequently to view, in the laugh full of glee, or the they had been called on by their country to fill,—and he smile of archness, the pearly whiteness of her small and thought on them with envy, as on those whom Provi- regular teeth. Her height was somewhat under that of dence had permitted to descend with honour to their her cousin's, and her figure more full and less graceful. graves. Next, his mind reverted to that parent, who This latter deficiency was, however, only to be discoverwas ever indulgent to his wishes; and then to his death-ed when they were together; for, when separate, so bed, from which, as it now seemed to him, he had un- great was her loveliness, and her general powers of atnecessarily absented himself, by his love of travel, and traction, that it was impossible to wish her in any parby following his own wayward humour, in opposition ticular other than she was. But the general fascination to what he had reason to suppose had been the wish of of her appearance was much overclouded at the moment his father for his return. He then followed, with his we are describing; her lovely mouth wore not its accusmind's eye, the funeral procession, up those rocky paths, tomed smiles, and there was spread over her whole apto that grave where no son had attended to lay the head pearance a thoughtfulness, that betrayed itself in her of his parent in the dust. Then shot through his burn- air, her physiognomy, and her voice, and gave to each ing brain the recollection of the inhuman violation of a tincture of languor, and even a gloom, very foreign to that grave, and of the ghastly head, with its grey hairs their natural and usual expression. This tendency to streaming in the winds, now affixed to the walls of a sadness, it seemed at present the intention of her cousin prison, an object of horror to some, and of derision to to divert, by occasionally rallying her on its cause; and, others, and this for an imputed crime, of which he felt when this method appeared, by the tears which it brought an inward assurance his father had not been guilty. to her eyes, and by her continued silence, not to suc"Thus, the gratification of the earnest wish he had ceed, by endeavouring to turn her attention to the luxucherished, to tread again the hallowed earth on which riant and varied landscape that the opposite or southern he had played in childhood, was the means of conjuring side of the river presented to their view; which being up a thousand distracting thoughts; and, no longer then the very reverse of what it is now, exhibited, in able to control his feelings, or silently endure his place of blackened and crowded buildings, a wide exwretchedness, he again gave way to his irritated mood, tended plain, covered with pastoral beauties, bounded to and spoke aloud: Shall I, then, tamely bend my neck the southward by the Surrey hills, then clothed in all to the yoke of fell despair,' he said, and set me down their summer verdure, and softened by distance; the inand die by inches? No! by the help of Heaven, I termediate space being enriched with fields, gardens, will yet be heard; and both kingdoms shall ring with and orchards, and interspersed with churches, villas, my wrongs, till some reparation be made for the injus- and cottages. But few houses were seen immediately tice done me." "Vol. İ. p. 80—3. on the margin of the river, between Southwark and the archiepiscopal palace of Lambeth, whose venerable and stately towers rose above the wood in which they were embosomed, and so near to the water, that the ancient spires and trees were reflected in its tranquil surface.”Vol. I. p. 133-7.

Our other extract furnishes us with a description of

the heroine and her friend Isabella :

"On a beautiful summer afternoon, while the sun was shooting his rays of unclouded brilliance on the broad and sparkling water of the noble river Thames, two lovely young women looked on it from an open window in the back part of Somerset or Denmark House; the latter being the name given, at the period when our story commences, to the palace in which the consort of King James I. then held her court. These young females bore each the name of Grey.

These are respectable pieces of writing, and there are many such; but the book, as a whole, is tedious and uninteresting. We rather suspect that the author should turn her attention from novel-writing to some other spe cies of composition.

The Edinburgh Review, or Critical Journal. No. XCVI. For September-December, 1828. Edinburgh, Adam Black; London, Longman and Co. Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. No. CXLIX. For February, 1829. Edinburgh, William Blackwood; London, T. Cadell.

The Foreign Quarterly Review. No. VI, January,
1829. London, Treuttel and Wurtz.

The New Monthly Magazine, and Literary Journal.
No. XCVIII. February, 1829. London, Henry
Colburn.

"The elder had nearly arrived at the age of one-andtwenty; her features had much of the Grecian outline, and possessed the Italian dignity of expression, blended with a softness peculiarly their own, which they owed to eyes large and dark, the exact colour of which it was difficult to ascertain, from the shade thrown on them by uncommonly long and thick eyelashes, of the deepest black, Her complexion, though not what would be called fair, yet almost appeared so, from its contrast with the jet of her hair, which was allowed to play in long spiral ringlets over her neck and shoulders, down to the slender waist, which belonged to a form perfectly proportioned, and of almost aërial lightness. Her dress was splendid, according to the fashion of the times, and the usage of the gay court in which she resided,- SETTING political considerations out of the question, being a robe of grass-green sandal, (a thin silk then so the Edinburgh Review, take it for all in all, is, and has called,) tastefully bordered and edged with gold, to the ever been, an honour to the country that produced it, neck of which was attached a deep full ruff of the most and a very proud monument of Mr Jeffrey's genius. costly lace, that fell back on the shoulders, so as to ex- For several years back, this Review has not been quite pose to view the graceful throat, and the jewelled neck-so distinguished as it once was; but this is to be attrilace that encircled it; while a cimar of white silk, richly embroidered in gold, showed itself on the bosom, forming a stomacher in front, the upper garment being open from the girdle upwards,

"The dress of her cousin, who was her younger by two years, differed little from that we have just described, except in the colour of the robe, which was amber; while the style of her beauty formed a complete contrast between them, her complexion being brightly fair, with a profusion of flaxen hair, her eyes blue, and her little mouth expressing a playful sprightliness, and giving

buted entirely to that apathy which is but too frequently the natural consequence of complete success. The boy soon restores to liberty the painted butterfly that it has cost him a whole summer day to catch; and the man of talent, as soon as he has accomplished the object he had in view, as soon as he has got the start of all his competitors in the race, rests upon his oars, or looks out for a new path in which to distinguish himself.

It is quite impossible that any Editor can always write and think exactly as he should do, and in a

work of so comprehensive a description as the Edinburgh Review, it was natural to suppose that there should be occasional mistakes and discrepancies; but we believe it is universally allowed, that Mr Jeffrey's mode of conducting this periodical is, on the whole, in the highest degree creditable to his temper, his judgment, and his abilities, or, to use a hackneyed, but expressive phrase, to his head and to his heart. Errors he has, no doubt, committed, both in matters of science, political economy, philosophy, belles lettres, and poetry; but to say that a man has committed errors is to say nothing. Look at the per contra, and see how much Mr Jeffrey has done for science, political economy, philosophy, belles lettres, and poetry;-perhaps no man of the present day has done more, or so much. It ought to be recollected, too, that there is not, and never was, a nest of Edinburgh Reviewers in Edinburgh. With the exception of Mr Jeffrey's own articles, the best have come from a distance. Sidney Smith has been a host in himself; Brougham, Macintosh, Hazlitt, Malthus, and others, have contributed many powerful Essays.

and the natural sincerity and simplicity of character, combined with a great deal of shrewd observation and strong common sense, which so peculiarly distinguishes James, as he is called. To a stranger, the Shepherd ap. pears a dull inanimate man in conversation; but he is not so to those who know how to touch upon the right chords. He often thinks more than he speaks; but what he says, though not expressed in the language of Bond Street, is always worth listening to. In the Noctes, Hogg is a good deal like what he would be were he to put into words all the secret thoughts of his most inspired and solitary moments, which in his social hours it is not his nature ever to do. He is, in short, a more fanciful and beau-ideal sort of Shepherd on paper than he is in reality,-as people appear to possess an air on canvass, which none but the painter probably ever discovered to belong to them.

The articles in the Foreign Quarterly Review are written by men of talent and learning; but we have some doubts whether there be in this country a sufficient number of readers interested in Continental literature, to secure for it a permanent support, the more especially as unfortu nate circumstances have introduced to the notice of the public two foreign Reviews at the same time. With the exception of France, Germany, and Italy, there is scarcely a European state in whose literary productions the mass of the reading public of Great Britain takes any interest; and even with regard to the march of mind in these three nations, an occasional article in the Edinburgh or Quarterly Review, or in some of the nu. merous Magazines, is expected to furnish a general and comprehensive view, enough to satisfy most appetites. But if any Foreign Review can be made to pay in this country, the very respectable work before us must have as good a chance as any that can be started.

The New Monthly, or Campbell's Magazine, every body is acquainted with. It is a gentlemanly and clever periodical; but its great fault is, that every succeeding number is too like those which have gone before. This we conceive to be a dangerous error in a periodical work, the very soul of which ought to be variety. The ability with which Blackwood varies his monthly bill of fare is one of the great charms of his Magazine. Even a dull article may safely be inserted now and then, if it has a tone and style of its own, for it will contrast well with the livelier lucubrations of more talented pens. The essays in the New Monthly are not only always good, but they have all the same sort of goodness, and that is nearly as wearisome as the same sort of badness. There is one exception to this remark to be found in the poetical department of this Magazine, which is, in ge-' neral, very mediocre a circumstance that occasions some surprise, considering the poetical reputation of its editor. It strikes us, indeed, that the poetry of most of the Magazines is, at present, considerably below par. Blackwood does not care much about poetry, considering rightly, that prose is the anchor to which all periodical works must principally trust. Professor Wilson's con tributions, in particular, are almost always in prose; and the Edinburgh Literary Journal has had the honour of giving to the public his two most recent, and certainly not the least beautiful of his poetical productions.

It is, of course, among the whigs that Mr Jeffrey principally moves; and it is to be regretted, that even in the purely literary Society of Edinburgh, a pretty strong line of demarcation is kept up between the whigs and tories. This is to be attributed, to a considerable extent, to the rivalry and opposition that has so long existed between the Edinburgh Review and Blackwood's Magazine, and the cutting sarcasms and raillery in which the latter has so frequently indulged. Personal feelings, either real or imaginary, have thus been brought into action, and the heroes of the Noctes Ambrosiana could hardly be expected to meet with a very hearty welcome from the learned Editor in Moray Place. The invention (as it may be called) of the Noctes Ambrosiana has been of great use to Blackwood's Magazine. It was exactly what all Magazines ought to have; yet it was the first attempt which was made in these periodicals to give the reader a more direct and personal interest in the writers whose monthly lucubrations he so regularly perused; and, at the same time, to afford an opportunity for expressing opinions, in an easy and epigrammatic manner, on a thousand subjects of interest, which could not otherwise have been touched upon. The Noctes have been written by various hands, but the most distinguished are Mr Lockhart and Professor Wilson. The former was fonder of introducing a greater variety of characters than the latter generally attempts; but it has not been found that they have lost any of their interest under the Professor's care. The question is frequently asked, whether any such thing as real Noctes Ambrosiana ever takes place? It may be pretty safely answered that they do, though not by any means at stated and regular periods; but Professor Wilson, whenever he chooses to exert himself, or rather without any exertion at all; is a Noctes Ambrosiance in himself. Few men ever combined more happily than he does the vivida vis of intellect, with the deep enthusiasm of poetical genius, and that ever-overflowing playfulness and urbanity which give to conversation so much sparkle and life, and are the sure indication of those kindly dispositions, nihil humani alienum putantes. The Ettrick Leaving these more general observations, we are de Shepherd is the person who is now made to figure most sirous, before concluding, to direct the attention of our not of late been in Edinburgh above three or four weeks Edinburgh Review. It is a disquisition on the life, conspicuously in the Noctes. Mr Hogg, however, has readers to the leading article in the last number of the in the year, so that of course the author of these dia- character, and writings of Burns, taking Mr Lockhart's logues draws entirely upon his own imagination for what work on that subject for the text. We have rarely met he puts into the Shepherd's lips. Mr Hogg is not ex- with a more eloquent or forcible piece of writing, or one actly what he is made to appear in the Noctes. It is a more calculated to raise its author in our estimation. powerful portrait, but a good deal exaggerated every With Mr Carlisle's talents, the "Life of Schiller," and way. The Shepherd seldom or never speaks poetical other productions, had made us previously acquainted; prose; or, if he does, it is by chance, not in a regular but we were hardly prepared to expect from his pen bly and intentional succession of sentences. In one thing article of so much beauty and vigour, and so admirably the likeness is good,-the total want of all affectation, sustained throughout. A more splendid tribute has