And, even if genius is too deep to be suppressed, or too celestial to be perverted, is it nothing that the soul of its possessor should be wrung with agony? For a while, criticism may throw back poets whom it cannot annihilate, and make them pause in their course of glory and of joy, "confounded though immortal." Who can estimate those pangs, which on the "purest spirits" are thus made to prey

the most divine. The very trade of the critic himself-the necessity of his being witty, or brilliant, or sarcastic, for his own sake-is sufficient to disqualify him as a judge. Sad thought!-that the most sensitive, and gentle, and profound of human beings, should be dependent on casual caprice, on the passions of a bookseller, or on the necessities of a period! 4. It may be perceived, from what we have already written, that we do not esteem criticism "as on entrails, joint, and limb, as a guide more than as a censor. The general With answerable pains but more intense?" effect on the public mind is, we fear, to dissiThe heart of a young poet is one of the most pate and weaken. It spoils the freshest charms sacred things on earth. How nicely strung even of the poetry which it praises. It destroys are its fibres-how keen its sensibilities-how all reverence for great poets, by making the shrinking the timidity with which it puts forth world think of them as a species of culprits, its gentle conceptions! And shall such a heart who are to plead their genius as an excuse for receive rude usage from a world which it only their intrusion. Time has been when the poet desires to improve and to gladden? Shall its himself-instead of submitting his works to nerves be stretched on the rack, or its appre- the public as his master-called around him hensions turned into the instruments of its tor- those whom he thought worthy to receive his ture? All this, and more, has been done to- precepts, and pointed out to them the divine wards men of whom "this world was not lineaments, which he felt could never perish. worthy.” Cowper, who, first of modern poets, They regarded him, with reverence, as most restored to the general heart the feeling of favoured of mortals. They delighted to sit in healthful nature-whose soul was without one the seat of the disciple, not in that of the particle of malice or of guile-whose suscep- | scorner. How much enjoyment have the peotible and timorous spirit shrunk tremblingly ple lost by being exalted into judges! The from the touch of this rough world-was ascent of literature has been rendered smooth chilled, tortured, and almost maddened, by and easy, but its rewards are proportionably some nameless critic's scorn. Kirke White-lessened in value. With how holy a zeal did the delicate beauties of whose mind were destined scarcely to unfold themselves on earthin the beginning of his short career, was cut to the heart by the cold mockery of a stranger. A few sentences, penned, perhaps, in mere | carelessness, almost nipped the young blossoms of his genius "like an untimely frost;" palsied for awhile all his faculties-imbittered his little span of life-haunted him almost to the verge of his grave, and heightened his dying agonies ! | Would the annihilation of all the dulness in the world compensate for one moment's anguish inflicted on hearts like these?

the aspirant once gird himself to tread the unworn path; how delectably was he refreshed by each plant of green; how intensely did he enjoy every prospect, from the lone and embowered resting-places of his journey! Now, distinctions are levelled-the zest of intellectual pleasures is taken away; and no one hour, like that of Archimedes, ever repays a life of toil. The appetite, satiated with luxuries cheaply acquired, requires new stimulants-even criticism palls-and private slander must be mingled with it to give the necessary relish. Happily, these evils will, at last, work out their We have been all this time considering not own remedy. Scorn, of all human emotions, the possible abuses, but the necessary tenden- leaves the frailest monuments, behind it. That cies, of contemporary criticism. All the evils light which now seems to play around the we have pointed out may arise, though no weapons of periodical criticism, is only like sinister design pervert the Reviewer's judg- the electrical flame which, to the amazement ment-though no prejudice, even unconscious- of the superstitious, wreathes the sword of the ly, warp him-and, even, though he may decide | Italian soldier on the approach of a storm, fairly "from the evidence before him." But it vapourish and fleeting. Those mighty poets is impossible that this favourable supposition of our time who are now overcoming the should be often realized in an age like ours. derision of the critics-will be immortal witTemper, politics, religion, the interests of rival nesses of their shame. These will lift their poets, or rival publishers-a thousand influ- heads, "like mountains when the mists are ences, sometimes recognised, and sometimes rolled away," imperishable memorials of the only felt-decide the sentence on imaginations | true genius of our time, to the most distant ages

MODERN PERIODICAL LITERATURE.

[NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE]

LITTLE did the authors of the Spectator, all sympathize; without a command of images, the Tattler, and the Guardian, think, while he has a glittering radiance of words which gratifying the simple appetites of our fathers the most superficial may admire; neither too for our periodical literature, how great would hard-hearted always to refuse his admiration, be the number, and how extensive the influ- nor too kindly to suppress a sneer, he has been ence, of their successors in the nineteenth cen- enabled to appear most witty, most wise, and tury. Little did they know that they were most eloquent, to those who have chosen him preparing the way for this strange era in the for their oracle. As Reviewers, who have world of letters, when Reviews and Magazines exercised a fearful power over the hearts and supersede the necessity of research or thought the destinies of young aspirants to fame, this -when each month they become more spirited, gentleman, and his varied coadjutors, have more poignant, and more exciting-and on done many great and irreparable wrongs. every appearance awaken a pleasing crowd of Their very motto, "Judex damnatur cum noturbulent sensations in authors, contributors, cens absolvitur," applied to works offending and the few who belong to neither of these only by their want of genius, asserted a ficticlasses, unknown to our laborious ancestors. tious crime to be punished by a voluntary Without entering, at present, into the inquiry tribunal. It implied that the author of a dull whether this system be, on the whole, as bene- book was a criminal, whose sensibilities justice ficial as it is lively, we will just lightly glance required to be stretched on the rack, and whose at the chief of its productions, which have inmost soul it was a sacred duty to lacerate! such varied and extensive influences for good They even carried this atrocious absurdity or for evil. farther-represented youthful poets as prima facie guilty; "swarming with a vicious fecundity, which invited and required destruction;" and spoke of the publication of verses as evidence, in itself, of want of sense, to be rebutted

The Edinburgh Review-though its power is now on the wane-has perhaps, on the whole, produced a deeper and more extensive impression on the public mind than any other work of its species. It has two distinct characters-only by proofs of surpassing genius.* Thus that of a series of original essays, and a criti- the sweetest hopes were to be rudely brokencal examination of the new works of particular the loveliest visions of existence were to be authors. The first of these constitutes its dissipated-the most ardent and most innocent fairest claim to honourable distinction. In this souls were to be wrung with unutterable anpoint of view, it has one extraordinary merit, guish—and a fearful risk incurred of crushing that instead of partially illustrating only one genius too mighty for sudden development, or set of doctrines, it contains disquisitions equally of changing its energies into poison-in order convincing on almost all sides of almost all that the public might be secured from the posquestions of literature or state policy. The sibility of worthlessness becoming attractive, "bane and antidote" are frequently to be found or individuals shielded from the misery of in the ample compass of its volumes, and not looking into a work which would not tempt unfrequently from the same pen. Its Essays their farther perusal! But the Edinburgh Reon Political Economy display talents of a very view has not been contented with deriding the uncommon order. Their writers have con- | pretensions of honest, but ungifted, aspirants; trived to make the dryest subjects enchanting, it has pursued with misrepresentation and and the lowest and most debasing theories ridicule the loftiest and the gentlest spirits of beautiful. Touched by them, the wretched the age, and has prevented the world, for a dogmas of expediency have worn the air of little season, from recognising and enjoying venerable truths, and the degrading specula- their genius. One of their earliest numbers tions of Malthus have appeared full of benevo- contained an elaborate tissue of gross derision lence and of wisdom. They have exerted the on that delicate production of feeling and of uncommon art, while working up a sophism fancy-that fresh revival of the old English into every possible form, to seem as though drama in all its antique graces-that piece of they had boundless store of reasons to spare-natural sweetness and of wood-land beauty— a very exuberance of proof-which the clear- the tragedy of John Woodvil. They directed ness of their argument rendered it unnecessary the same species of barbarous ridicule against to use. The celebrated Editor of this work, the tale of Cristabel, trying to excite laughter with little imagination-little genuine wit-and by the cheap process of changing the names no clear view of any great and central princi- of its heroines into Lady C. and Lady G., and ples of criticism, has contrived to dazzle, to employing the easy art of transmuting its astonish, and occasionally to delight, multitudes romantic incidents into the language of frivo of readers, and, at one period, to hold the tem- | lous life, to destroy the fame of its most proporary fate of authors at his will. His quali- found and imaginative author. The mode of ties are all singularly adapted to his office. criticism adopted on this occasion might, it is Without deep feeling, which few can understand, he has a quick sensibility with which

* See Ed. Rev., No. 43, p. 68.

obvious, be used with equal success, to give | tions on the state of the poor have been often to the purest and loftiest of works a ludicrous replete with thoughts "informed by nobleness," air. But the mightiest offence of the Edin- and rich in examples of lowly virtue, which burgh Review is the wilful injustice which it have had power to make the heart glow with has done to Wordsworth, or rather to the mul- a genial warmth which Reviews can rarely titude whom it has debarred from the noblest inspire. stock of intellectual delights to be found in Its attack on Lady Morgan, whatever were modern poetry, by the misrepresentation and the merits of her work, was one of the coarsest the scorn which it has poured on his effusions. insults ever offered in print by man to woman. It would require a far longer essay than this to But perhaps its worst piece of injustice was expose all the arts (for arts they have been) its laborious attempt to torture and ruin Mr. which the Review has employed to depreciate Keats, a poet, then of extreme youth, whose this holiest of living bards. To effect this work was wholly unobjectionable in its tenmalignant design, Wordsworth, Coleridge, and dencies, and whose sole offence was a friendSouthey, have been constantly represented as ship for one of the objects of the Reviewer's forming one perverse school or band of inno- hatred, and his courage to avow it. We can vators-though there are perhaps no poets form but a faint idea of what the heart of a whose whole style and train of thought more young poet is, when he first begins to exercise essentially differ. To the same end, a few his celestial faculties-how eager and tremupeculiar expressions-a few attempts at sim- lous are his hopes-how strange and tumultuplicity of expression on simple themes-a few ous are his joys-how arduous is his difficulty extreme instances of naked language, which of imbodying his rich imaginings in mortal the fashionable gaudiness of poetry had incited language-how sensibly alive are all his feel-were dwelt on as exhibiting the poet's intel- ings to the touches of this rough world! Yet lectual character, while passages of the purest we can guess enough of these to estimate, in and most majestic beauty, of the deepest pathos, some degree, the enormity of a cool attack on and of the noblest music, were regarded as a soul so delicately strung-with such aspiraunworthy even to mitigate the critic's scorn. tions and such fears-in the beginning of its To this end, Southey-who, with all his rich high career. Mr. Keats-who now happily and varied accomplishments, has comparative- has attained the vantage-ground whence he ly but a small portion of Wordsworth's genius may defy criticism-was cruelly or wantonly -and whose "wild and wondrous lays" are held up to ridicule in the Quarterly Reviewthe very antithesis to Wordsworth's intense to his transitory pain, we fear, but to the lasting musings on humanity, and new consecrations disgrace of his traducer. Shelley has less of familiar things-was represented as redeem- ground of complaining-for he who attacks ing the school which his mightier friend de- established institutions with a martyr's spirit, graded. To this end, even Wilson-one who must not be surprised if he is visited with a had delighted to sit humbly at the feet of martyr's doom. All ridicule of Keats was unWordsworth, and who derived his choicest in- provoked insult and injury—an attack on Shelspirations from him—was praised as shedding|ley was open and honest warfare, in which unwonted lustre over the barrenness of his master. But why multiply examples? Why attempt minutely to expose critics, who in "thoughts which do often lie too deep for tears" can find matter only for jesting-who speak of the high, imaginative conclusion of the White Doe of Rylston as a fine compliment of which they do not know the meaning-and who begin a long and laborious article on the noblest philosophical poem in the world with-" This will never do?"

there is nothing to censure but the mode in which it was conducted. To deprecate his principles-to confute his reasonings-to expose his inconsistencies-to picture forth vividly all that his critics believed respecting the tendencies of his works-was just and lawful; but to give currency to slanderous stories respecting his character, and above all, darkly to insinuate guilt which they forebore to develope, was unmanly, and could only serve to injure an honourable cause. Scarcely less disgraceful to the Review is the late elaborate piece of abuse against that great national work, the new edition of Stephens's Greek Thesaurus. It must, however, be confessed, that several articles in recent numbers of the Review have displayed very profound knowledge of the subjects treated, and a deep and gentle spirit of

The Quarterly Review, inferior to the Edinburgh in its mode of treating matters of mere reason and destitute of that glittering eloquence of which Mr. Jeffrey has been so lavish -is far superior to it in its tone of sentiment, taste, and morals. It has often given intimations of a sense that there are "more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of incriticism. the philosophy" of the Northern Reviewers. It has not regarded the wealth of nations as every thing, and the happiness of nations as nothing-it has not rested all the foundations of good on the shifting expediences of timeit has not treated human nature as a mere problem for critics to analyze and explain. Its articles on travels have been richly tinged with a spirit of the romantic. Its views of religious sectarianism-unlike the flippant impieties of its rival-have been full of real kindliness and honest sympathy Its disquisi

The British Review is, both in evil and good, far below the two great Quarterly Journals. It is, however, very far from wanting ability, and as it lacks the gall of its contemporaries, and speaks in the tone of real conviction, though we do not subscribe to all its opinions, we offer it our best wishes.

The Pamphleteer is a work of very meritorious design. Its execution, depending less on the voluntary power of its editor than that of any other periodical work, is necessarily unequal. On the whole, it has imbodied a great number

changed, or have grown wiser. Their Reviews
of poetry have been, perhaps, on the whole, in
the purest and the gentlest spirit of any which
have been written in this age of criticism.
Without resigning their doctrines, they have
softened and humanized those who profess
them, and have made their system of religion
look smilingly, while they have striven to pre-
serve it unspotted from the world. If occa-
sionally they introduce their pious feelings
where we regard them as misplaced, we may
smile, but not in scorn. Their zeal is better
than heartless indifference-their honest de-
nunciations are not like the sneers of envy or
the heartless jests which a mere desire of ap-
plause inspires. It is something to have real
principle in times like these—a sense of things
beyond our frail nature-even where the feeling
of the eternal is saddened by too harsh and
exclusive views of God, and of his children:
for, as observed by one of our old poets,
"Unless above himself he can

a murder, or an authentic description of a birth-day dress, or the nice development of a family receipt, communicated, in their pages, to maiden ladies of a certain age an incalculable pleasure-and when the learned deciphering of an inscription on some rusty coin sufficed to give them a venerableness in the eyes of the old. If they, then, ever aspired to criticism, it was in mere kindness-to give a friendly greeting to the young adventurer, and afford him a taste of unmingled pleasure at the entrance of his perilous journey. Now they are full of wit, satire, and pungent remark touching familiarly on the profoundest questions of philosophy as on the lightest varieties of manners-sometimes overthrowing a system with a joke, and destroying a reputation in the best humour in the world. One magazinethe Gentleman's-almost alone retains "the homely beauty of the good old cause," in pristine simplicity of style. This periodical work is worthy of its title. Its very dulness is agreeable to us. It is as destitute of sprightliThe British Critic is a highly respectable tiquarian disquisitions are very pleasant, giving ness and of gall as in the first of its years. Its anwork, which does not require our praise, or us the feeling of sentiment without seeming to offer any marks for our censure. It is, in a obtrude it on us, or to be designed for a disgreat measure, devoted to the interests of the play of the peculiar sensibility of their authors. church and of her ministers. It has sometimes We would not on any account lose the veteran shown a little sourness in its controversial Mr. Urban-though he will not, of course, sufdiscussions but this is very different, indeed, fice as a substitute for his juvenile competitors from using cold sneers against unopposing but we heartily wish that he may go flourishauthors. Its articles of criticism on poetrying on in his green old age and honest selfif not adorned by any singular felicity of ex- complacency, to tell old stories, and remind us pression-have often been, of late, at once of old times, undisturbed by his gamesome clear-sighted and gentle. and ambitious progeny!

Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!"†

The Edinburgh Monthly Review is, on the whole, one of the ablest and fairest of the

Few literary changes within the late change ful years have been more remarkable than the alteration in the style and spirit of the magazines. Time was when their modest ambition reached only to the reputation of being the "abstracts and brief chronicles" of passing events-when they were well pleased to afford vent to the sighs of a poetical lover, or to give light fluttering for a month to an epigram on a lady's fan-when a circumstantial account of names, we cannot but shudder at the state of those who have opened fountains of impurity at which fashion leads its successive generations greedily to drink."-Merciful Heaven! * We will give an instance of this-with a view to exhibit the peculiarities into which exclusive feelings lead; for observation, not for derision. In a very beautiful article on Wordsworth's Excursion, the critic notices a stanza, among several, on the death of Fox, where the poet-evidently not referring to the questions of immortality and judgment, but to the deprivations sustained by the world in the loss of the objects of its admiration-exclaims,

Yet we must turn from his gentle work to Monthly Reviews, though somewhat dispro-and ever-varying Northern Light-Blackwood's gaze on the bright Aurora Borealis, the new portionably filled with disquisitions on matters Magazine. We remember no work of which of state policy. so much might be truly said, both in censure and in eulogy-no work, at some times so profound, and at others so trifling-one moment so instinct with noble indignation, the next so pitifully falling into the errors it had denounced-in one page breathing the deepest and the kindliest spirit of criticism, in another condescending to give currency to the lowest calumnies. The air of young life-the exuberance both of talent and of animal spirits— which this work indicates, will excuse much of that wantonness which evidently arises from the fresh spirit of hope and of joy. But there are some of its excesses which nothing can palliate, which can be attributed to nothing but malignant passions, or to the baser desire of extending its sale. Less censurable, but scarcely less productive of unpleasant results, is its practice of dragging the peculiarities, the conversation, and domestic habits of distinguished individuals into public view, to gratify a diseased curiosity at the expense of men by whom its authors have been trusted. Such a course, if largely followed, would destroy all that is private and social in life, and leave us nothing but our public existence. How must the joyous intercourses of society be chilled, and the free unbosoming of the soul be checked, by the feeling that some one is present who will put down every look, and word, and tone, in a note-book, and exhibit them to the com

"A power is passing from the earth
To breathless nature's vast abyss;
But when the mighty pass away,
What is it more than this,
That man, who is from God sent forth,
Doth yet to God return?

Such ebb and flow will ever be,

Then wherefore shall we mourn ?" On which the Reviewer observes; "The question in the last two lines needs no answer: to that in the four preceding ones we must reply distinctly, 'It is appointed to men once to die, but after this the JUDGMENT."--Heb.

X. v. 27.

↑ Daniel.