: ty of Burns. He has copied the spoken language of passion and affection, with infinitely more fidelity than they have ever done, on all occasions which properly admitted of such adaptation but he has not rejected the helps of elevated language and habitual associations; nor debased his composition by an affectation of babyish interjections, and all the puling expletives of an old nursery. maid's vocabulary. They may look long enough among his nervous and manly lines, before they find any "Good lacks!"-" Dear hearts!" or, "As a body may say," in them; or any stuff about dancing daffodils and sister Emmelines. Let them think, with what infinite contempt the pow. erful mind of Burns would have perused the story of Alice Fell and her duffle cloak; of Andrew Jones and the half-crown; or of little Dan without breeches, and his thievish grandfather. Let them contrast their own fantastical personages of hysterical schoolmasters and sententions leechgatherers, with the authentick rusticks of Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night, and his inimitable songs; and reflect on the different reception which these personifications have met with from the publick. Though they will not be reclaimed from their puny affectations by the example of their learned predecessors, they may, perhaps, submit to be admonished by a self-taught and illiterate poet, who drew from Nature far more directly than they can do, and produced something so much liker the admired copies of the masters whom they have abjured. FROM THE MONTHLY REVIEW. Le Siege de la Rochelle, &c. &c. i. e. The Siege of Rochelle, or Misfortune and Conscience, by Madame de Genlis. OF this third effusion of Mad. DE GENLIS'S fertile pen, in which we expected to find nothing but characters and events notorious in the civil wars that long divided France between Catholicks and Hugonots, we were agreeably surprised to discover that the title and about twenty additional pages formed the whole historical portion. Instead of implicating the subject of the story, the title only fixes the epoch at which it is supposed to have taken place; and instead of being introduced to the councils of ministers and party-leaders, and detecting the secrets of camps and cabinets, we are presented with a wild and extravagant romance, which is devoted to the unmerited sufferings, the various adventures, and the extraordinary destiny, of a beautiful and persecuted female. Ciara de Montalban was betrothed to Valmore, a rich and amiable widower of high rank, who had an only son by his former marriage. His 12mo. 3 vols. Paris, 1808. estates were so settled, that the greater part of them was destined to belong to the young Julius; whose father was consequently unable to provide, as amply as he would have wished, for his intended second wife. The father of Clara, a remorseless, mercenary man, whose individual interests were considerably affected by this circumstance, formed the horrid project of murdering the child, and accidentally carried it into effect at such a time and in such a situation, that the suspicion fell entirely on his innocent and unhappy daughter. Without detailing the circumstantial evidence which appeared to amount to proof positive against her, it is enough to state that the judges, before whom she was tried, considered themselves as bound to condemn her to an ignominious, death. The monster Montalban had the audacity to upbraid her with the crime, though she had the power of bringing it home against him, if filial piety had not prevented her from ransoming herself by the sacrifice of her unworthy father. Valmore, who, notwithstanding his sorrow and indignation, continued still to feel a warm affection towards her, and had rescued her from the fury of the populace when the bloody deed was first discovered, succeeded in procuring a pardon for her, on condition of her being confined for life in a penitentiary convent, the asylum of vice and infamy. In this miserable abode, her mind was sustained by a sense of duty, and the exhortations of her confessor; who was alone, of all mankind, convinced of her innocence and the guilt of Montalban, though he approved too highly of her resolution of screening her father, to denounce the real criminal. When the consolations of religion and the force of habit had in some degree reconciled her to this mode of life, she suddenly received a dreadful order to place herself under the protection of her father, who designed to carry her to his lonely castle on the banks of the Rhone; and she had scarcely time to write a short billet to father Arsene, when Montalban's servant, a phlegmatick German who could speak no French, arrived, and conveyed her to the place of her imprisonment, which she was firmly persuaded would prove also the scene of her speedy death. Her father, she understood, would follow after a short delay. On the second night of her solitary and alarming residence in this dismantled castle, "Exactly at ten o'clock, she distinctly heard a coach enter one of the courts of the castle, and immediately an extraordinary bustle throughout the house,-a climbing of staircases, an opening of doors with noise, and a walking in all the galleries. Oh exclaimed Clara, this time it is not an illusion: he arrives it is he.' Half an hour afterward, Frikmann appeared. He seemed agitated, and nothing could be more striking than a trace of emotion on his naturally cold countenance. He approached Clara, took her hand, and dragged her along. Clara, frightened, opposed resistance, and Frikmann pre VOL. II. pared to carry her off by force. Not wishing that a man should seize her by This movement of modesty and dignity the arm, she determined to follow him. restored her strength; for all the springs of the soul have a marvellous connexion where he shut her in. Her blood froze and found themselves on a terrace. There D He she already felt the deadly blow; for she believed that she should be poignarded, and then plunged into the river. Her hair rose on her head. Frikmann placed her almost dying in the arms of this man, and fled with rapidity. Clara, motionless and frozen, voluntarily shut her eyes, that she might not once see the assassin. Her shrinking heart had no longer the pow. er to beat. She ceased to breathe, yet she preserved sensation and consciousness. She remained thus a moment suspended between life and death; when, on a sudden, oh surprise! oh inexpressible ecstacy! -she felt the arms which supported her gently pressing her! She heard sighs and groans! It is no mistake-tears are shed upon her! O God! can the murderer of Julius, the unnatural father who so sacrificed his daughter, can he be capable of an emotion of pity? does outraged nature reclaim her rights, and will she triumph difficult, she prevailed on father Arsene to change her retreat for the tal of one of the German electorates; house of an aged widow in the capiwhere she was accidentally introduced to the elector's daughter, and entirely won her confidence and affection. This amiable princess, whose spirits were depressed by a secret affliction, opened her whole heart to her young favourite, and related her melancholy history. She had been betrayed into a private marriage with one of her father's ministers, who treated her with coldness, and appeared to have lost all affection for her. Here, the suspense of the story is in a great measure destroyed; for the reader sees at once that Clara is the daughter of the princess. Her father, Roher mild light senberg, who at an early age had intrusted her to Montalban, returned about this time; and having been convinced that she was guilty of the murder, he threatened her with immediate detection and exposure unless she left the place. She returned, therefore, to her refuge near Ro chelle; where, after various adventures, which are not always of the most probable kind, her innocence which concealed d shed, and the violent tossing of the boat fastened to the bank was moderated. At this instant, the arms which supported Clara lifted her and placed her on a seat, and she found herself opposite to the object of her melancholy fears.-Clara raised towards him a sad and timid eye; but scarcely had she perceived him, when she recovered all her faculties and all her sensibility, and, prostrating herself, exclaimed with transport not to be described, O my deliverer!' She recognised her venerable friend, and embraced the knees of father Arsene." Her worthy Confessor now conveyed her to a place of safety at a farm-house near Rochelle, which became the head quarters of the general who commanded the besieging army. This general was Va more; who, though he could not see her face, which she had the precaution to keep constantly veiled, was reminded of his former love and sorrow by her figure and appearance. He passed the night in a room divided from her only by a thin partition; and she had the melancholy satisfaction of hearing him express those teelings of an unextinguished affection, which she could never be permitted to return, while labouring under the load of infamy that had been heaped on her. Concealment becoming daily more was manifested to the world. Montaban died confessing his guilt. Valmore was united to his beloved Clara; and Rosenberg (who had very fortu nately brought some German auxiliaries to the assistance of the besieged Hugonots) blessed their auspi cious marriage. The story, though very striking in particular scenes, is tedious and unequal; and it is eked out by a num. ber of episodical narratives which neither assist the progress of the main argument, nor have much intrinsick merit. We would not rashly charge Madame DE G. with descending to the arts of book-making: but really the stories of the hermit and the old woman answer no purpose besides that of swelling the work. The latter, however, is introduced by a description of a maritime village, so lively, original, and picturesque, that our readers, will probably not be displeased by seeing it translated: "The mixture of rustick manners and maritime toils gives to this village a singular and striking aspect. A person might find there in families a wonderful store of knowledge gained from experience and tradition, united to all the prejudices of ignorance and all the simplicity of a country village. The interiour of almost all the houses was adorned with the productions of India or the ocean; and they were at once decorations and trophies, which attested long voyages and perilous navigations. There the same hands were often employed in constructing vessels and fabricating ploughs; and the men, divided into two classes, offered, in their mode of life, on the one hand the picture of temerity, boldness, and all the agitations produced by ambition and curiosity; on the other, the affecting image of innocence and peace, the happy fruits of moderation and a tranquil life." of France by those of former times, we think that the publication before us exhibits a similar approximation to the ancien regime on the subject of religion. Every opportunity is taken to justify the system of convents and monasteries, and to deny the existence of those epormities with which they have been often charged. The worship of images is mentioned with a degree of awe and veneration, greatcatholick divine of the present day er, we apprehend, than any judicious would express on the subject; and the fervent prayers of Clara are more than once rewarded by distinct revelations from heaven. We have also too many providential interferences, and too many quotations from the scriptures. A romance is the worst possible vehicle for onction ;-a word of extensive and mysterious signification, which has been very imperfectly rendered by our common term, If we were right in the conjecture which we threw out, on a late occasion, respecting Madame DE GENLIS'S wish to remodel the present manners cant. FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW. Lettre aux Espagnols-Americains. Par un de leurs Compatriotes. A Philadelphie. 8vo. pp. 42. THIS curious and interesting address is the production of Don Juan Pablo Viscardo y Gusman, a native of Arequipa in Peru, and an ecclesiastick of the Order of Jesus. When the Jesuits were banished from all the territories of Spain, he, with the rest of his order, who, whatever may have been their deme rits in other parts of the world, had been the chief benefactors of Spanish America,* was deprived of his coun Dr. Robertson, when treating of the rapacious, oppressive, and licentious lives of the ecclesiasticks of that country, says: "It is remarkable that all the authors, who censure the licentiousness of the Spanish regulars with the greatest severity, concur in vindicating the conduct of the Jesuits. Formed under a discipline more perfect than that of the other mo nastick orders, or animated by that concern for the honour of the society, which try, and took refuge in the dominions of the pope in Italy. At the time when the dispute about Nootka Sound threatened to produce a war between Great Britain and Spain, and when Mr. Pitt, in the view of that event, had adopted the scheme of revolu tionizing the Spanish colonies in America, he invited, at the suggestion of general Miranda, a certain number of the ex-Jesuits of South America from Italy, for the purpose of using their influence in disposing the minds of their countrymen for the meditated changes. Of this number was the author of the present appeal, in which the inhabitants of takes such full possession of every member of the order, the Jesuits, both in Mexico and Peru, it is allowed, maintained a most irreproachable decency of manners."-History of America, vol. iv. note 19. South America are called upon, by every consideration interesting to human kind, to take the manage ment of their own affairs into their own hands, and to establish a just and beneficent government, which may at once ensure their own happiness, and open a liberal intercourse of benefits with the rest of mankind. This uncommon person, who evinces a share of knowledge, of thought, and of liberality, worthy of the most enlightened countries, died in London in the month of February 1798, and left the present tract, in manuscript, together with several other papers, in the hands of Mr. King, at that time minister in this country from the United States. It was afterwards printed by means of general Miranda, for the purpose of being circulated among his countrymen. At a moment like the present, we doubt not it will appear of importance to our readers to contemplate the sentiments of a man who may, to so great a degree, be considered as the representative of the leading classes of his countrymen, on a question at all times highly interesting to Great Britain, but which, in the present situation of Europe, assumes an incalculable importance. In presenting to his country men a short sketch of their history, he tells them, after Herrera, that their progenitors won the country by their own enterprise, and established themselves in it at their own charges, without a farthing of expense to the mother country; that, of their own free accord, they made to her the donation of their vast and opulent acquisitions; that, instead of a paternal and protecting government, they had experienced, at her hands, the most galling effects of a jealous, rapacious, and oppressive administration; and that, for the long period of three centuries, their attachment to her had triumphed over the strongest causes of resentment. He then draws a picture of the oppression to which the colonies of Spain have been subjected; and, after enlarging on the galling restraints in respect to personal liberty, and the ruinous effects of the exorbitant, commercial monopoly to which they have been condemned, he alludes to their exclusion from all offices of profit and trust, even in their own country, in a strain of patriotick indignation. After this picture of slavery, the author proceeds to demonstrate the foundations of liberty; and, considering the education he had received, the country where he was reared, and the society to which he belonged, the beneficence and justness of his views are worthy of no ordinary approbation. He then displays the solid principles of liberty which were originally interwoven in the constitution of Spain, and assisted by the spirit of the people; and, in the following short passage, states, with much discernment, the miserable, but delusive causes of its loss. "The reunion of the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon, together with the great kings of Spain, and the treasures of the East Indies, gave the crown of Spain an unexpected preponderance, which grew so powerful that in a very short time it overthrew all the barriers erected by the prudence of our ancestors to secure the liberty of their posterity. Regal power, like the sea breaking over its limits, overflowed the whole monarchy, and the will of the king and of his ministers became the universal law. states which at that time came to the "Despotick power, once so strongly cient cortes no longer existed. There reestablished, the shadow even of the anmained for the natural, civil, and religious rights of the Spaniards no other protection than the good will of the ministers, or the ancient formalities of justice, callhave sometimes opposed the oppression ed juridical proceedings. These may of innocence without, however, preventing the proverb from being always true: The king's will makes the law." When he at last comes to call upon his countrymen, from a united view of the nature of things, and of their own particular circumstances, to adopt the resolution of becoming their own masters, he cites, for their example, the celebrated revolt of the |