when the kiss was imprinted, but breaks out into an exclamation which, while it deprecates our knowledge of the reality, implies the impossibility of description. As for the mother's feelings, 'tis merely her heart was woe;" not the seat of woe, nor distracted by a thousand woes. It is these bursts of nature, these unlaboured starts of genuine sentiment, that constitute the attractions of the simple elegy.

In

Elegance, neatness, delicacy, are all terms appropriated to express what we mean by the last feature which we have marked out. order to view the subject of elegance in the light it deserves it will be necessary to refer to those points which constitute its principles. It is that which, perhaps, most of the three ingredients of poetry, admits of deliberate attempts at its acquisition, and may either present it self in some persons as natural and inborn, or in others as the effect of attention and study. On this account its principles are less obvious or discernible than in the other cases, though not placed beyond the reach of a discriminating mind. They seem chiefly to centre in the following maxims; that there should not be too much nor too little, that propriety and decorum should be sacredly observed, and that harmony should be called in to assist the disposition of words, in themselves pleasing and fluent. The first in consequence among its elements is, that the poet should have a habit of thinking concisely, and of painting his thoughts in words not too numerous nor too scanty for the occasion. This wears a better aspect as a natural gift than in the forms which result from study directed to the subject.

The sentence should also be terse and

compact, its members should be well joined, and the whole easily pervaded by the line of sense which is to run from the commencement to the end. No disjointed apothegm, after the sense is complete, should be allowed to be tacked to the sentence like a rider to a bill in parliament, and drag along its unnecessary length to the violation of all proportion. Redundancies are to be removed by the pen as vigorously as a tumour by the penknife, and even Eur. Mag. June, 1823.

where the sense and matter are too strong and full, it were good to withdraw some of the effective words, and relieve the weight of the verse by substituting a few harmonious epithets. Wherever many parts enter into the composition of a verse the rules of just symmetry are to be observed; and if different members are required to succeed one another in three or more clauses, they should rise on each other to the end with increasing length, aud produce a well sounding climax at the close of the period.

Of the poets in the English language, Mr. Thomas Moore, the most illustrates this head; one whom writers were never more happy than in comparing to the "learned Catullus." But our concern is not with the ancients, or we might draw unnumbered illustrations from them: it is to our own poets only that we must be understood throughout this writing to confine ourselves. Waller, and Otway and Rowe, poets of a receding age, put in their pretensions, but they have not always the lovely naïvete which Mr. Moore's lines display, and we will not countenance the existence of the one of these without the other. Wordsworth is sometimes elegant, and his elegance is the more commendable as it is the elegance of truth, and feeling. The following extract from his works is a testimony of the elegant, both in sentiment and expres

sion:

"Dear native regions, I foretel
From what I feel at this farewell,
That wheresoe'er my steps shall tend,
And whensoe'er my course may end,
My soul shall cast the backward view,
The longing look alone on you.

Thus, when the sun, prepar'd for rest,
Has gain'd the precincts of the West;
Though his departing radiance fail
Tilluminate the hollow vale,
A lingering light be fondly throws
On the dear hills where first he rose."

Mr. Montgomery deserves the tribute of admiration: "Notes of sorrow," indeed, he sings, and notes of melancholy; but notes conceived in delicacy, and with delicacy expressed.

These then are the three great springs (to use Longinus's words)

of that which so much captivates mankind. We think that they com prehend all features which enter into the frame of verse, and that there are none which may not, on consi deration, be found referable to them. There is a species of poetical write ing, which is not directly regarded in this essay, which is best desigs nated the ingenious; but of this we shall observe, that it exists more in wit than genius; light and distin guished by no mark, like an exha lation escaping from the upper story of the brain, and not from the no bler apartments. This has no other recommendation than the mere chi canery of art, and holds the same rank among the orders of writing that a petifogging attorney does among the characters of the world.

Much of this nature is the parody which we only spare in consideration to the feelings of those higher cha racters who have occasionally fallen into its use, but have doubtless since We, in our humble regretted it. judgment, consider it unworthy a wise man's pusuit, and we confess that it is occasion of sorrow to us when we see the beacons of human intellect engaged in the prosecution of it. It implies no su periority of genius, but only an exuberant imagination; and the time spent on these light conceits would be well given to some connected work of a higher order, which may wear a character of res pectability as well as originality, and lay claim to the serious exami nation of posterity.

U. U.

E. P.

MY DEAR DE Vermont,

Paris.

Ir grieves me to observe, that, in spite of all which this country has suffered from the tyranny of a military government, the taste of the people is unaltered, and that dreams of warlike glory still haunt their imaginations. Apathy and indifference prevail universally on all other topics; but whenever, either in public or in private, the smallest allusion is made to the heroic days of victorious France, the right chord is touched, joy sparkles in every countenance, party distinctions are forgotten and the enthusiasm becomes general. Scarcely a day has passed away since my arrival at Paris, without affording me some fresh proof of this characteristic trait. The old noblesse, though indignant if a foreigner speaks with the smallest respect of the genius of Buonaparte, or the talents of his Marshals, will yet condescend, when boasting of the valour of their country, to mention the achievements of both, as demonstrating that under every change of government the French soldier is invincible. If one venture to hint that the battle of Waterloo, to which the present King owes his restoration, contradicts the assertion, they contend that the, misfortunes of the hard-fought day were all occasioned by the rashness of the Commander, and the overwhelming force opposed to him.

The most inveterate enemy of the Bourbon dynasty is equally careful not to omit the names of the Chevalier Bayard, Henry IV., or Marshal Turenne, in counting up the heroes of his beloved country; and their glories are no less considered as national, than those of Pichegru, Damourier, Ney, or Napoleon.

Among various other instances of the unabated passion for military fame which I have remarked, I shall

mention what occurred a few evenings since, at the opening of M. Le Compte's new Theatre, in the Rue Mont Thabor, when I happened to

be present. The entertainment con sisted of dramatic scenes represented by machinery, affording what you call des Tableaux Parlants. While the inventor confined himself to exhibitions of his skill, however inge nious, which had no allusion to France or military fame, his efforts to amuse the spectators were received with chilling indifference, but when at last he brought before them Les François au Champ de Mars, every eye was fixed in mute attention, and every hand was raised to greet with loud applause a scene so flattering to the vanity of the nation. They availed themselves of the first opportunity which occurred of testifying their approbation, and it was one which showed how much all considerations, including even a respect for religion, are undervalued when put in opposition to" desert in arms."

A French soldier, fully accoutred, approaches the cave of a magician, and begs to borrow a candle, which is brought by the devil himself in propria persona, and le brave militaire, unawed by the sudden appearance of his Satanic Majesty, lights his pipe, with becoming sang-froid, at the offered taper, while thunders of enthusiastic applause burst from the well-pleased crowds assembled on the occasion.

Figures of various heroes, beginning with Henri IV., were then brought forward. They were next individually put in motion, and made to march by the delighted audience in military array. All of these received in turn some loud testimony of approbation; but when at length the soldier, who so fearlessly had lighted his pipe at the candle of the devil, exclaimed, le souvenir de la gloire passée, est la promesse de la gloire à venir, no language can describe the ardour with which a sentiment, so calculated to raise the drooping spirits of the French, was received.

From this scene, and from many similar ones which I have witnessed during my stay in this capital, I am

disposed to conclude that nothing is still so dear to the heart of a Frenchman as military fame. Nor does this ruling passion seem at all subdued, either by the iron despotism of Buonaparte, the domestic miseries which the Law of Conscription so generally diffused, the tremendous and wide-spread havoc of the fatal retreat from Moscow, or by the mortifications and sufferings which ended with the last occupa tion of Paris by the forces of the allied Sovereigns. Indeed, I am assured that one great cause of the uniform success, which so long crowned the arms of France, was the prevalence of this feeling in the breast of all those who joined the warlike bands, and which neither party prejudices, nor private suffer ings, were strong enough to eradicate or even to diminish. A lady of the ultra-royalist school tells me, that when a favourite servant of her's was compelled to change her service for that of his country, he was at first very violent, and swore that, though he might be forced to carry a musket, no human power should compel him to level it against those who were engaged in what he and his employers called la bonne cause. It happened, however, that he no sooner put on his uniform than he forgot all these angry professions, and behaved himself with peculiar

valour in the field.

When he returned in triumph to his native village, his former mistress asked how he could reconcile his behaviour with his principles. “Ah! Madame," exclaimed he, "il faut me pardonner, le François est toujour François, et quand il se trouve devant l'ennemi il n'a qu'un parti à prendre-vaincre ou mourir."

Such was the usual mode of reasoning among all classes of this warlike people, not only in the lowest but also in the highest ranks of society; and the names of many young men have been mentioned to me of your most illustrious houses, who are now officiers à demi-solde, and still firmly attached to the cause of Buonaparte; they were at first,

like the poor valet de chambre whom I just mentioned, torn from their homes by the tyrannical law, which obliged every man to become a soldier in his turn at a particular age. Drawn perhaps in chains to the army, and forced to join the ranks of their countrymen, they by degrees contracted military habits and military sentiments. From privates, becoming subalterns; and from subalterns, officers of distinguished rank; by and bye they lost all their early predilections, and ended in being completely identified with the fame and fortunes of the once mighty Emperor.

To conquer this military spirit seems to be not the least of the difficult tasks which Louis XVIII. has to perform. Though nothing would make his Majesty so popular among his subjects in general as a declaration of war, he knows very well, that if he attempted to gratify this wish of mortified national vanity, it would probably end, not only in his own ruin, but in the dismemberment of his still extensive empire.

Were he to change his course, one of two things seems inevitable :either the allied Sovereigns, marching for the third time to Paris, would lay waste this beautiful capital, and divide amongst them this unhappy country, or the general whom he employed, crowned with victory and supplanting him in the affections of his people, would soon become another Napoleon; France would be again exposed to military despotism, and the rest of the earth run the risk of sharing a similar fate. From either of these evils, both as an Englishman and a citizen of the world, I must say, " the Lord defend us."

Though I reluctantly introduce the subject of politics in our correspondence, I could not help mentioning a circumstance which constitutes so striking a feature in the character of your countrymen. I will not, however, allow even la gloire Françoise to tempt me to lengthen this letter, so adieu,

And believe me ever yours,
CHARLES DARNLEY.

MY DEAR DARNLEY,

London.

YES, you are quite right— military glory is the prevailing pas, sion of every Frenchman's breast; but though this passion may occasionally lead us into unpardonable excesses, and may have been the principal cause of all our late public calamities, recollect that we owe to it also many of the best traits in our national character. Not to speak of the achievements of our illustrious countrymen, which fill so proud a page in the annals of Europe, the urbanity of manner which pervades all classes of our people; the high spirit which they have displayed on every occason, and a certain generosity of sentiment which is seldom separated from real valour, may all be traced to this predominating impulse. The jealousy of a standing army, which the particular principles of your constitution and the general love of freedom alike inspire, has prevented the English from being actuated by a similar feeling. But if the desire of military fame ani, mates but a small portion of the inhabitants of Britain, the love of country supplies its place in the breast of all: whenever the honour of the united empire is really, (or imagined to be) concerned, every purse is opened, and every hand is raised in its defence. Indeed, so very warmly and so unanimously do you think on these subjects, that it is extremely easy for any minister, by a pretended tale of asserted insult, to rouse you into foreign hostility, however unwise, unnecessary, or contrary to your real interests such a step may be.

Though, towards their conclusion, both the first American, and the two last French wars, became unpopular, it is quite certain, that in the commencement of each, the people fully concurred in the course taken by the government; and, in spite of all the declamation against the corruption of Parliament, had your representatives been the freest in the world, I suspect the minister would have equally received their support; for

the feelings of the nation had been excited, and once excited you become no less enthusiastic than ourselves; and in this enthusiasm the commonest English peasant bears his share no less than the proudest peer. Indeed, nothing delights me more than to witness the anxiety with which the daily newspaper (the welcome visitor of John Bull's breakfast-table,) is expected by all the inhabitants of this overgrown city; from the Duke in Grosvenor-square, to the Cobler in St. Giles's..

By the interest with which I find every particle of news is discussed, even at a time of profound peace, I easily conjecture with what trembling anxiety political intelligence must have been looked for when you and we were struggling for the empire of the world. Are we not then disputing about words? The Frenchman is always ready to draw his sword, when he sees, or fancies that he sees, an opportunity of encreasing the military renown of his beloved country; and the Briton is no less zealous to revenge the supposed wrongs, or supposed insults, of that England, whose interests and credit seem as dear to its inhabitants as their own private ones. So strongly indeed do all classes identify themselves with the public, that I am persuaded no veteran of Buonaparte's body-guard ever boasted more vainly of the victories of Jena, Marengo, Fleurus, or Austerlitz, to which he personally contributed, than does the London tradesman at this moment, who never carried a firelock in his life, of the battle of Waterloo. In every district of London I find Waterloo-street, Waterloo - hotels, Waterloo academies, Waterloo pot-houses, Waterloo eating-houses, and Waterloo shops of all orders and descriptions; while your ladies still wear Waterloo bonnets, and your gentlemen Wellington boots, and I am assured that in the most distant parts of England these favourite names are repeated again and again in every city, town, and village; nay, even your stage coaches borrow a military name from this