of their friends,in the esteem of the many, while they which has authorised us in throwing off a very large impression of remain the but of the slander, the malice, and the envy each Number, and has, notwithstanding, made it necessary for us of those who, without the pale of their friendship, have to print a second edition of our first Monthly Part, which is now only an external knowledge of their privacy. There is al- in preparation. We, of course, greatly attribute this success to so an eccentricity in their natures, apart from the rest of the communications we have had the good fortune to be honoured the world, for which mankind cannot entertain an ac. with, from a large proportion of the literary talent of Scotland. cordant sympathy. This is at once the spring of their It would be preposterous to suppose that any periodical work greatness and their degradation; and there is connected could fail, which was able to concentrate in its pages the abilities of such men as grace with their writings and their names the prewith it an ungovernable something, so unlike the every-sent Number alone. We may also state, that several articles have day rules of business, that, not unfrequently, the actions of him whose writings are distinguished for wisdom and morality, in the eyes of the world verge upon folly, and he stands amidst the plodding multitude "Among them but not of them, appeared anonymously in the Edinburgh Literary Journal, from pens no less highly distinguished. We can only farther promise, to be unremitting in our exertions to present our readers weekly with as varied and intellectual a banquet as possible. To our advertising friends we also owe our best thanks. We Rapt in a train of thoughts which are not their stated in our Prospectus, that we could not expect their support, thoughts." LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. THE author of the Traditions of Edinburgh is at present preparing a complete collection of the Legendary Poetry of Scotland, to occupy three handsome volumes in post 8vo. The first volume is to contain Ballads; the second and third, Songs; and the whole are to be illustrated by introductory Treatises, and by historical and to ographical Notes. The greatest pains, we are informed, have been exerted in the preparation of this work. In the first volume, not only is each individual ballad selected with a close and express view to its merit in a literary sense, but the best stanzas, and even the best lines, and, in many cases, the best words, are gathered from the nu erous various readings which have already been published, and the whole associated in one harmonious whole. The songs, on the other hand, are the best entire versions which it has been in the editor's power to procure from such genuine collections as already exist; the greatest care being taken to avoid the modern corruptions which have crept into so many of these esteemed productions. One of the editor's chief principles of selection has been to adopt only such compositions as are consistent, in one important respect, with the improved taste of the present age. His notes, we are told, contain much curious and recondite information regarding the subjects of the various songs and ballads, the persons who figure in them, and the scenery which they refer to. It is, altogether, to be hoped, from the known industry of the editor, as well as from the respectability of the source from which the publication proceeds, that this will be, what has so long been wished for by the people of Scotland, a classical collection of their justly-admired traditionary poetry, and one of which it may be said, that the vessel is worthy of the precious things which it contains. unless experience proved that their interest and ours might be made to go hand in hand. From what has just been mentioned, simply, and without adornment, it must be apparent that few better mediums for literary advertisements can be found than that which our Journal presents. We doubt not, therefore, for a continuance of that encouragement we have already so amply experienced from publishers, both in Scotland and England. —A press of matter forces us to exclude all advertisements this week. TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. "The Wanderer's Tale," and a "Scots Sang," by the Ettrick Shepherd, will appear in our next Number. The Ill-starred Bride," a poem, by William Kennedy, Esq. author of "Fitful Fancies," &c. which we regret much reached us too late for this week, will also appear in our next Number. "The Fratricide's Confession," by John Malcolm, Esq. will appear very soon. The article on the "Spirit of the Provisions of the Law of Scotland respecting Injury and Wrong" is under consideration.-We shall be happy to receive the communication offered to us on the subject of the Royal Commission.-" T. B. J." is not overlooked; he will find himself noticed speedily." Inquisitor" has our thanks for his good wishes; but we have not time to answer his questions. The "Lines from the West," the " Answer by Highland Mary in Heaven to Burns' Lament," and the verses on "Woman," and by Theon," will not suit us. We have received several books for review, which have been published months, and even years ago. It is scarcely to be expected that we can notice them. As, however, we intend giving occasionally a Retrospec ive Review of works of merit which may have unjustly fallen into oblivion, we shall not positively forbid, though we cannot greatly encourage, the transmission of sucb works to us in our editorial capacity. POLITICS. We are informed that, on the 1st of January, there will be published, Part I. of a work to be entitled, Edinburgh Illustrated, in a series of views, of the newest and most interesting objects in the Scottish metropolis and its vicinity. drawn and engraved by Mr H. Winkles; with Historical and Descriptive Notices by Alexander Bower, Esq. author of the "History of the University of Edinburgh." Each Part is to contain six engravings, and twelve Letter from the Duke of Wellington to Dr Curtis, the quarto pages of historical and descriptive letter-press. We are inclined to augur favourably of this work. There is announced for publication, in a few days, No. I. of "The Edinburgh Musical Album," edited by G. Linley, Esq. Author of "They say my Love is dead," and other popular Songs. It will also be embellished with a finely-engraved portrait of Miss E. Paton. Theatrical Gossip.-A comedy, in five acts, called "Woman's Love, or the Triumph of Patience," has failed to secure either woman's love, or any patience, at Covent Garden.- The English Opera House is to open early in January, with a popular French company. We observe that the Glasgow theatre has been reported to the Dean of Guild as in a state of some insecurity, and that he has named a commission to investigate into the matter. We hope that the report is unfounded.-We have no room for any dramatic article this week. The only novelty was a farce called Free and Easy," which was favourably received. WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES.-Dec. 20-26. SAT. Mason of Buda. TUES. Mary Stuart, Animated Statue, Cramond Brig, & The Scapegoat. WED. Rob Roy, & Free and Easy. FRID. Heart of Mid-Lothian, Gilderoy, & Forty Thieves. TO OUR READERS. We are unwilling to obtrude our own concerns on the attention of our readers; but in our last Number for the year 1828, (though it is only our Seventh,) we may be allowed to express our sense of the flattering encouragement our labours have already received THE CATHOLIC QUESTION. Catholic Primate of Ireland. London, Dec. 11, 1828. "MY DEAR SIR,-I have received your letter of the 4th instant, and I assure you that you do me justice in believing that I am sincerely anxious to witness the settlement of the Roman Catholic Question, which, by benefiting the State, would confer a benefit on every individual belonging to it. But I confess that I see no prospect of such a settlement. Party has been mixed up with the consideration of the question to such a degree, and such violence pervades every discussion of it, that it is impossible to expect to prevail upon men to consider it dispassionately. "If we could bury it in oblivion for a short time, and employ that time diligently in the consideration of its difficulties on all sides, (for they are very great,) I should not despair of seeing a satisfactory remedy. "WELLINGTON." Edinburgh: Published for the Proprietors, every Saturday Morn Price 6d. or Stamped and sent free by post, 10d. LITERARY CRITICISM. Select and Rare Scottish Melodies. The Poetry by the celebrated Ettrick Shepherd; the Symphonies and Accompaniments composed, and the whole adapted and arranged, by Henry R. Bishop. London. Goulding and D'Almaine. We love all music that has heart and soul in it, from the most ear-stunning catch ever trolled in village alehouse, to the gentlest notes of duleet melody that ever melted on the lip of beauty;-from the solitary violin, that, on a winter evening, "startles the dull ear of night," to that glorious combination of choral sounds, which, on Christmas-day, fills, even in this city, the chapel of the good Catholic, floats over the illuminated altar, and carries away the mind of the worshipper to the very gates of Heaven. We have travelled miles to hear a single song, and to hear it once again, we would cross seas and overcome mountains; and yet, perchance, there are many who could listen to it without emotion. It is not to be denied, that more than one half of the pleasure derived from music depends upon association. An ear, with a more than usually delicate organization, discovers a peculiar fitness in a certain succession and modulation of notes; and if scientific knowledge be added to this natural advantage, the pleasure is increased by a perception of the difficulties which have been overcome, and as the composition proceeds, the amateur experiences an intellectual enjoyment somewhat akin to that of the mathematician who solves a succession of problems. But this enjoyment has as little to do with association as pure mathematics itself, and cannot be said to be the legitimate or true source from which delight in music springs. Music appeals to the heart, more than to the head;-touches, as with a fairy wand, the stores which memory has hoarded in her cells, and, like the dew and the sunlight of morning, recalls to beauty and to freshness flowers that drooped as though they had exhaled all their odours, or had perhaps been trodden under foot,-crushed and withering. Associations may either be general or particular; but, in proportion as the latter preponderate, and personal considerations are brought into action, in proportion will be the intensity of the feelings they excite. gradually working its way in the public mind. Fashion, that capricious butterfly, has been taking under the patronage of her golden wings a newer style; and the unadorned simplicity, the wild pathos, and the mountain vigour of those airs, which delighted our fathers and solaced our own childhood, have been pronounced unscientific,-rude,-coarse,-vulgar. Strong words; but, as epithets of blame, unjust and powerless. "Unscientific" our songs may be, but so, we presume, are the songs of the blackbird and skylark, at least we never heard that they took lessons either from Catalani or Finlay Dun. Unscientific! so are all the glorious harmonies of nature,--all the music of animate and inanimate creation, every note of woe,-every sound of bliss! Unscientific indeed! We are talking of music's influence over the heart; nor are we talking with disrespect of science.-for we are among the most scientific musicians in Edinburgh; but what has science to do with the songs of a people of a whole country? Science may have a great deal to do with the carefully-scribbled sheets that lie before a German or an Italian composer, intent only upon his breves and his semibreves, his sharps and his flats, his crotchets and his quavers, his octaves and his bars, his majors and his minors; or it may have a great deal to do with the gentleman in white kid gloves, silk stockings and shoes, who trips into the concert room, and looks round with a glance that makes the fiddlers tremble. But what has it to do with the glen and the hillside, the cot, the village, and the town, where live the descendants of the men who fought at Bannockburn, and pulled down the Roman idol?" Let that pass!" "Their music is, moreover, rude, and coarse, and vulgar." Have the kindness to desire the lady and gentleman who thus describe it to walk in. Did you ever see, in all your life, two such miserablelooking Cockneys? Only listen to that yelp and jabber which they call speaking. The female wears a pink scarf, a faded white satin bonnet, and a tawdry plume of feathers, that have been evidently much bedaggled. In a shrill treble, she can sing you two or three things by Moore, and can lash a piano-forte into foam, without ever stopping to take breath. The male carries a flute in his coat-pocket, and can, besides, sing seconds to all known tunes, although, it must be confessed, that his bass would have a chance of being a little more sonorous were his habits a little less dissipated. Well, these creatures pronounce the Scottish music "vulgar." We should like much to hear a good definition of vulgarity. Of all sorts of music, that of Songs is most effective; it is most adapted to ordinary capacities, and, by wedding verse to melody, obtains an ascendency, not only If every man who wears a white neckcloth be a genover individuals, but over whole nations,—an ascen- tleman, we give up the point; for all your modern Londency that has excited the attention of legislators and don composers, whether of the words or the airs, know philosophers. Till very lately, Scotland used always to how to tie a white neckcloth round the necks of their be considered as conspicuously eminent for her stock of songs. But unless it be used to conceal the scar of some national melodies; and even those who were disposed to family taint in the blood, we pay no more respect to a dispute the refinement of Scottish taste, were always white neckcloth than we do to a worsted "comforter." willing to allow the excellence of Scottish song. We Perhaps Scotland is vulgar altogether;-perhaps its have observed, with regret, that some slight alteration in ancient Doric, which all its Stuart kings spoke for cen. these sentiments has, within the last few years, beenturies, is vulgar ;-perhaps its struggles for liberty and religion were vulgar;—perhaps its very scenery is vulgar, its lochs and mountains.-its Glencees and its Grampians. And certainly, if fashion limit herself to her wax candles and silk dresses, her esprit de milles fleurs and her French quadrilles, all these things of which we have just spoken are vulgar. Burns is vulgar,-Allan Ramsay is vulgar,-Nature is vulgar,-everything is vulgar, with the exception of a few antificial, diseased, rotten, and sorely-dressed puppets, who congregate in drawing-rooms, for the express purpose, one would think, of countenancing the deterioration of the human species. Scotsman, worthy of the name, must love. She is not Shone full upon her; Her eye, even turned on empty space, True; Hogg has written a good deal of mediocre stuff,- Doubly dear art thou to us, James Hogg," Ettrick Shepherd." "Forest Minstrel," and "Mountain Bard," -doubly dear art thou to us, when the Southron affects to sneer at the music of our own romantic land, and when even the child of Coila seems to rule with a feebler sway the bosoms of his countrymen. We need a harp and a heart like thine, with the virtue, and the courage, and the strength, to resist the weak insipidity of an emasculated age. We admire Moore, we love the me"Select and Rare Scottish Melodies," with the words lodies of green Erin; Bishop composes beautifully, and by the Ettrick Shepherd, and accompaniments by Bishop, so does Rossini; many of Thomas Bayly's songs are could hardly fail to possess many features of interest, pretty, and pretuly have they been set to music by Bar- both musical and literary. Accordingly, we find, in nett and others, and very prettily have they been sung by the first place, that great judgment has been shown in ten hundred interesting young ladies, and no less interest- the choice of the airs, of which there are thirteen. With ing young gentlemen; but there was a time when songs only one or two exceptions they are all strongly marked, were not mere pieces of prettiness.-when they had that and highly characteristic of the country to which they within which passeth show," when they stirred the belong; whilst, at the same time, they are not too comdeep fountains of the human heart,-when they mingled mon-place or familiar, nor, so far as we know have they with the character and the dispositions, even as the light before been made popular as songs, by having words of morning mingles with the purple cloud. There was set to them of that nature which rendered competition a time, too, when "cauld Caledonia" had her own songs, hopeless. In the next place, the Ettrick Shepherd has which she loved above all the songs of the earth, and seldom been happier than he has been in his composiwhen her youths and maidens but rarely lilted the strains titons for this work. The opening song, it is true,— that issue from the shops of London music-sellers. We "Mary, canst thou leave me ?"does not please us s much, had rather see that time again; even although the march for, though simple and appropriate, it is, on the whole, too of music I improvement were to stop, and those simpler common-place, and very slightly indicative of that oridays be restored when the eye of patriotism and affec-ginality which so peculiarly belongs to its author. In the tion kindled at every wild melody that breathed of home. The Ettrick Shepherd has already done much to protect the rights of that Muse whom he worships; he has stood by her tottering throne, and driven back rebellion from its very foot. Moore himself, with his bland whisper, and soft, insinuating smile, wishing to effect by stratagem what others were not able to do by force, our Shepherd has detected, and with one blast of the good bagpipe a noble and a potent weapon, at which the weak nerves of Cockneys shudder-has blown the wily knave from the presence. We reverence the bagpipe. Cockneys have heard it within four walls, or in narrow lanes, and the sounds ran through them like long needies. But we are a mountain race, and we must have mountain music,-music that can buffet the blast, and can be heard mellowed on the far peak, or down in the deep ravine. Byron reverenced the bagpipe,-Bonaparte reverenced it, and trembled. Well did he know "the war-notes of Lochiel,"-fearfully did he augur the fortune of the coming fight, "When wild and shrill the Camerons' gathering rose." The comparison may sound somewhat ludicrous; but a poet like Burns or Hogg is the intellectual bagpipe of the land. Many of his notes are harsh,-some of them, perhaps, dull as the drone itself; but let the day and the hour come, and they will rush upon the heart with a power no tongue may tell. Youth-father-landfriends early love-sufferings that have strengthened -hopes that have cheered-kindnesses that could be repaid only with the silent and gushing tears of gratitude -unite in the momentary vision, and there is not an aspiration that seems too lofty for the mind to soar to,not a deed that seems too daring for the hand to do. Long may the Ettrick Shepherd worship the Muse as he has already worshipped her! She is one whom every second, however, the Shepherd is himself. The best O WHAT WILL A' THE LADS DO? That day will quaver high; The next is in a different strain, but we think scarcely which, however, we verily believe, is surpassed by the inferior. Here it is THERE'S NAE LADDIE COMING. There's nae laddie coming for thee, my dear Jean, O Jeanie, dear Jeanie, when we twa were young, You watch'd o'er your billy, and fear'd he wad dee; Sae wae was my young heart to see my Jean weep, The fourth song, "I downa laugh, I downa sing," we abstain from quoting, only because we intend quoting one or two others. The fifth and sixth, "Ye breezes that spring in some land unknown," and "The Souters o' Selkirk," are good; but we like the seventh still better, which is an excellent specimen both of the Shepherd's quiet humour and sound morality. It is called THE LADIES' EVENING SONG. O the glass is no for you, The glass is no for you, Bonnie laddie, O; The glass is no for you, For it paints your manly brow, An' it fills you roaring fou, Bonnie laddie, O. Then drive us not away wi' your drinking, O, We like your presence mair than you're thinking, O, How happy would you be In our blithsome company, Now your een are glancing bright, Wi' a pure and joyfu' light, Bonnie laddie, Ŏ, But at ten o'clock at night, Tak a lady's word in plight, There's a right path and a wrang, bonnie laddie, O, For the mair you taste an' see Of our guileless company, The eighth is entitled "An Arabian Song;" but we like our author best when he keeps on the north side of the Tweed; the air, composed by Bishop, is simple and beautiful, but strikes us as being a little out of place. Come, row the boat" is a Highland air, and the words, as they should be, are gallant and warlike. The tenth song, 66 Appie M'Gie," is admirable, and only equalled by the eleventh, "The broom sae green,' twelfth, "Gang to the brakens wi' me." We have heard the Shepherd sing this song himself, and though he has nearly as little voice as ever man had, he has an excellent ear, and a warm heart, and a soul sparkling in his bright grey eye,-and these, together with the best lungs in Yarrow, carry everything before them, and secure one of the most rapturous encores that ever issued from the palms of the hands. Nevertheless, we must reserve the only space we have left for the thirteenth song, in which the words and the air are so admirably adapted to each other, that we are certain a single verse, if sung by a Scotch regiment on the eve of an engagement, would make that regiment more than a Congreve is knighted and pensioned for inventing a new match for the whole army of the enemy. If Sir William sort of rocket, what ought Hogg not to be for supplying his countrymen with strains, which, in the day of battle, would be more dreaded than a thousand rockets? No man could ever be defeated who had taught his native mountains to echo THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS. There's news come over the Highlands yestreen, Shine over the shore in the morning. And join our lov'd Prince in the morning. Come, brave Lochiel, the honour be thine, Then who dare remain in the morning! When Connal, and Donald, and gallant Clan-Ronald, Are all in array, and hasting away To welcome their Prince in the morning. The Appin will come, while coming is good; To join his lov'd Prince in the morning. These select and rare Scottish Melodies ought to be found among the music of every true Scottish family, and ought to be sung continually by all our "fair wo men and brave men." There is the freshness of the country about them ;—the wild luxuriance of the land "Where blooms the red heather and thistle sae green." Foreign Tales and Traditions, chiefly selected from the Fugitive Literature of Germany. By George G. Cunningham. In 2 vols. 12mo. Blackie, Fullarton, and Co.; Glasgow. (Unpublished.) A VERY striking peculiarity of German literature is the immense proportion which its works of fiction bear to its other departments. This, probably, arises from the vast multitude of traditions and legends with which every corner of Germany, as is the case with most countries abounding in the picturesque, is crowded, especially along the majestic course of the Rhine, and among the terrific scenery of the Harz Mountains. To the awakening genius of Germany, determined to deviate from the old and worn-out classical models, these wild legends, which were the only other materials of literature, out of itself, that were within its power, seem to have suggested that general tone of romance, and that passion for fictitious writing, which is so conspicuous in German literature. And it is not to be denied, that, in consequence of this, there belongs, in general, to the German romance, an air of freshness, and native vigour, which is wanting in those literatures in which this species of composition is more of an exotic. We can believe more easily in marvels and prodigies beside the Rhine than on the Thames or the Seine, and feel as if their combination there with human agency were less unnatural than elsewhere. And as the power of attraction in fictitious literature is always in proportion to our sense of its appropriateness and naturalness, we do not wonder that if romance we must have-German romance, of all others, should have been so popularly attractive, independently of the intrinsic merit of the works, or the actual genius of their authors. But we are speculating too much on a theme more general than the character of the work which is waiting for our opinion, and the object of which is to afford entertainment, and not to give occasion to theory. With the exception of a brief, but elegantly written Preface, it is unencumbered by any antiquarian annotations,any critical or chronological arrangement, by which editors sometimes attempt, preposterously, to give a seemingly grave and scientific form to what, in reality, they mean to be a book of mere amusement. Considered in this light, we esteem the "Tales and Traditions" a work entitled to be, and likely to prove, very popular. They are chiefly selected from the less known and trodden walks of German fiction, the editor having avoided the greater works of celebrated authors, and having sought his materials chiefly in fugitive and traditional literature. Out of these materials he has composed a melange, distinguished, in our opinion, not only for the individual merit of the various pieces, but for the judicious combination of the whole,-the entertaining mixture of pure fiction and popular tradition, and the grateful succession of the comic, the marvellous, and the pathetic, which it presents. The translation is executed, on the whole, with great felicity, and great command of conversational English, though we observe here and there a few Scotticisms; and though we could desire that most of our translators from the German, those at least who translate for the public amusement. would allow themselves a little more liberty in deviating from literal exactness in the rendering of foreign idioms and phrases. ar, there is a lofty mountain, on the top of which appears one of those small but unfathomable lakes which are so frequently found in such situations in Germany. Popular superstition has connected the following plea. sing legend with the lake of Wimpfen :— the lake, wreathing a coronal for himself out of the love"A beautiful boy was once seated upon the shores of ly flowers which grew upon its banks. He was quite alone, and ever and anon he raised his blue eyes, and gazed with childish longing across the glittering waters for a little boat in which to sail about over the tranquil expanse; but the boy beheld nothing like a boat save a single plank of wood, which moved to and fro on the tiny waves as they rippled towards the shore, and which, though it might have afforded a slight support in swimming, could not carry him to the other side of the lake. "The boy raised his longing looks once more, and was astonished to perceive three snow-white swans sailing proudly up and down in the middle of the lake. At last the stately birds approached where the boy lay, who, of bread from his pocket and fed them; they seemed to delighted with his new companions, drew some crumbs him so tame, they looked so gentle, and came so near to the shore, that the delighted boy thought to catch one they moved gently away, and remained beyond his reach, of them; but when he stooped down with this design, body above the deep lake, on the lowermost branch of a although, in his anxiety, he nearly suspended his whole young poplar, which grew upon the bank. "The tamer the three beautiful birds appeared to the boy, and the oftener that they baffled his attempts to catch them, the more eager he became to secure them for himself. He drew the plank from the water,-launched it again,-balanced himself with caution upon it,-and, light from the shore, and, making use of his hands as finding it supported him, pushed off with a shout of deoars, rowed fearlessly after the swans. him, but ever beyond his reach, until he had gained the "The beautiful birds kept sailing immediately before middle of the lake. He now felt his strength exhausted, and for the first time became seized with excessive terror, when he beheld nothing near or around him but Meanwhile the three swans kept the glittering waters. sailing around him in contracting circles, as if they when he beheld them so near to him, forgot his danger, wished to calm his rising alarms; but the gallant boy, and hastily stretched out his hand to grasp the nearest, when, alas! his unsteady raft yielded to the impulse, and down he sank into the deep blue waters! found himself lying upon a couch, in a magnificent cas"When the boy recovered from a long trance, he tle, and before him stood three maidens of marvellous beauty. "How came you hither ?' inquired one of them, taking him by the hand with a sweet smile. "I know not what has happened to me,' replied the boy. I only remember that I once wished to catch three beautiful swans which were sailing upon the lake, and that I sank in the deep deep waters.' "Will you stay with us ?? asked one of the maidens. 'Here you are most welcome; but this know, that it' you remain three days with us, you can never again return to your father's house; for, after that period, you would no longer be able to breathe the air of the world above, and you would therefore die.' looked like sisters, moved the boy, and inspired his "The kindness of the three beautiful maidens, who Yes,' he exclaimed, It is, of course, impossible for us to give specimens sufficient, in number and variety, to afford a just representation of a collection, one of whose principal merits is its entirely miscellaneous character. We shall gratify our readers with one specimen of the striking and beau-guileless breast with confidence. tiful traditions with which the work abounds,-one leaping up joyfully from his couch, yes, I will remain with you!' which appears to have been finished with particular care in the original, and rendered with peculiar elegance in the translation. It is entitled their magnificent fairy palace. The splendour of the "The lovely sisters now led the wondering boy through apartments dazzled his astonished senses. Nursed in poverty, and accustomed only to the simple furniture of Nigh to Wimpfen, a town situated upon the Neck- his father's cot, he was now overwhelmed by the mag. THE THREE SWANS. |