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mould of nature-his mind filled with the noblest shapes of ideal beauty-his tongue nimble to speak the most melodious of languages, with all his faculties about him, critical, exact, and sensitive-filled with the spirit of enjoyment that proceeds from health, fine climate, free government, and a beautiful country-was raised so high above other men, that he looked with contempt and derision upon the rugged Scythian, the enervated Persian, the depraved Egyptian, the savage and untutored Italian. Thus it was, that all history was uninteresting to them, but what was Greek; that which was not Greek, was to them without the pale of civilization—and this is one main reason why the Greeks, in the time of their prosperity, (for we speak not of the Greeks in their dotage, when "the last of the Greeks" had died) read so little-what related to other nations they cared not for; what related to themselves, it was their constant business to listen to. The Romans of the higher ranks paid more attention to, and depended more for their amusement upon reading, than the Greeks; Homer, and all the Greek authors, were their constant study. We begin to hear in their times, of the student's solitary lamp, and midnight oil—but still literature was confined to the upper ranks. “The Romans conquered the world without the help of books, and lost it after they knew the use of them." The middle ages are proverbially dark—it was the torpid time for the great authors of antiquity-like bats and moles, they slept away this winter of literature, in the cold and gloomy cells of monasteries, till the dawning of better times shot revivifying light into these recesses of ignorance and superstition. The invention of paper

in the eleventh, and of printing in the fifteenth, century, was as cheering to the lovers of humanity, as the sea-birds and sea-weeds, signs of approaching land, are to the wearied and despairing navigator, who is darkly tracking an unknown and pathless ocean. The fertile and luxurious crop of modern literature then appeared above the earth-the richness of the soil, which had lain fallow for so long a time, during which it had only borne the rank weeds of scholastic subtlety, mingled indeed with the wild but romantic flowers of chivalrous feudality, as well as the greenness and freshness of the productions themselves, all encouraging animating hopes of an abundant harvest. Since that time, books have become a common and current coin; every city and every town has its mint-they are almost numberless. A catalogue of all the books that have been printed, would of itself fill a little library. The knowledge of their external qualities, and the adventitious circumstances attending their formation or history, has become a science-professors devote their lives to it, with an enthusiasm not unworthy of a higher calling they have earned the name of bibliomaniacs. Vast collections of books are esteemed the pride and glory of the countries or cities fortunate enough to possess them. The Vatican boasts its millions-the Laurentian, Ambrosian, and other libraries of Italy, the Bibliothèque du Roi at Paris, the enormous collection at the British Museum, our university and college libraries, particularly the Bodleian, while they are proud monuments of the ingenuity and all-reaching, all-fathoming, mind of man; yet must strike the heart of the student that enters them with despair, should he aim at

attaining universal knowledge through the medium of books. Life is too short for wading through many of the sets of ten folios, such as the Opera of the old scholars used to be collected in, unlike the diminutive quartos and octavos of these book-making times.

Not two strong men th' enormous weight could raise
Such men as live in these degenerate days.

Fortunately it is not necessary, though at the same time, a general acquaintance with all that has been written, with the reigning pursuits of different ages, with the different modes and different degrees of talent, with which particular individuals and schools have followed them, are not only highly gratifying to a liberal curiosity, but essentially necessary to the accomplished scholar. No study is more interesting, and few more useful, than the history of literature, which is, in fact, the history of the mind of man. This observation leads us to the chief object of this introduction, namely, a more particular statement of our views in sending forth the "Retrospective Review," one of whose most valuable and important departments, it is the intention of the editors to assign to the history of literature.

The design of this Review of past literature, had its origin in the decisively modern direction of the reading of the present day—it is an attempt to recal the public from an exclusive attention to new books, by making the merit of old ones the subject of critical discussion. The interesting form and manner of the present Reviews it is intended to preserve; though, from the nature of the work, and from our unfeigned horror of either political or personal invective, we shall neither pamper the depraved appetites of listless readers, by

piquant abuse-nor amuse one part of the public, by holding up another to scorn and mockery;-at any rate, we shall not be driven to a resource of this description through a paucity of interesting matter which we may legitimately present to our readers. While the present Reviews are confined to the books of the day, we have the liberty of ranging over the whole extent of modern literature. Criticism, which, when able and just, is always pleasing, we shall combine with copious and characteristic extracts, analyses, and biographical accounts, so as in some measure to supply the dearth of works on the history of literature in our own language; for it is to be lamented, that except the unfinished work of Warton, and a few detached Essays, we have no regular history of English poetry-and that of the prose writers, their language, style, spirit, and character, there exists no account at all.* A deficiency as striking occurs with respect to the literature of neighbouring nations; unless from native or foreign works, we are entirely in the dark respecting the national literature of Spain, Germany, Italy, even France, and the northern nations. Mr. Berington, indeed, has done good service to this department, by his "Literary History of the Middle Ages," but his subject was too extensive for the space he has allowed it to occupy, and perhaps required more research, combined with a philosophical and generalizing power of mind, than often falls to the lot of a single individual. His sketch of Arabian literature

* We must not, however, omit to mention, that this department is eminently indebted to the elegant productions of Dr. Drake, his "Essays on Periodical Literature," and other Works.

✅ is, however, particularly valuable, and opens to the view a rich and dazzling mine of unexplored genius. That Arabian learning should be extensively cultivated in England is, perhaps, as little to be desired as expected though we promise ourselves a favourable reception to an attempt to convey to the English reader, an accurate idea of the spirit of the extraordinary writers who flourished in Spain and other countries, at a time when the rest of Europe was immersed in darkness-criticisms upon whom, accompanied by a selection of translated extracts, will occasionally form a part of our future labours.

The Moorish authors in Spain were succeeded by no unworthy descendants. Spanish literature is far from being familiar, to the generality even of the scholars of this country-Cervantes is highly and duly appreciated -a few poets also have met their deserved reputation, but the animated, clear, and spirited Spanish writers in prose, are comparatively unknown. The beautiful ballads in which the Spaniards perhaps excel even the Scotch and English, as well as the higher departments of poetry, with the prose works of fiction, are likely to afford a number of new and interesting articles to our Critical Miscellany. The literature of Germany, Italy, and France, is in a general way well known to the majority of those who devote their attention to literature; though we have the presumption to hope we shall lead some to a more particular acquaintance with many delightful companions, whom it is intended to introduce to their notice. Some whose names have been bruited abroad, but whose qualities have been mistaken or misunderstood some who, though not pleasing in the

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