"Who can define to man the boundaries of nature, and the world of spirits? Call it enchantment, conjuration, curse, fate, the word is equal; but in life there

are terrible moments of torment that raise miraculously the power of man, and bind with words the invisible world."-" Shew me a people, among whom preserved in old traditions, solemnized, and consecrated by the muse, the terrible belief does not exist, that mortal man cannot escape the dark constraint of magic."-" Poetry and history, sight, experience, are only various shadows of the self-same thing by different lights. Truth is unity. In the heart, not in the head, is nature known."

So that the prejudices of ignorance, according to Mr Müllner, are of more value than the evidence of inquiry and of knowledge. He mistakes the fact, however, if he supposes this terrible belief now exists in such a degree, as to warrant the poet adopting

it as the basis of his fable. On this

subject we are glad to have some observations of Mr Thomas Campbell to oppose to the arguments and example of Müllner, and they appear to us so excellent, that we shall quote them at length.

Although we may enjoy a superstitious mythology without believing it, yet we like it better when it comes down to us from a superstitious age, than when it is got up to the imagination like a phantasmagoria at noonday, by the poet of enlightened times which have survived such credulities. Should an epic author, at the present day, attempt to revive the machinery of the Iliad, he would not probably find its gods and goddesses produce a very lively illusion. Whereas, when a poet transmits superstitions coeval with him, he gives us a picture of past existence fresh with sincerity, and fraught with authentic character, like the

Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind

Believed the magic wonders which he sung."

"It may be doubted if the enlightened imagination of man may always be expected to dwell with the same complacency on poetical resources borrowed from ignorance and credulity. And one can scarcely help suspecting, that in proportion as the general religion of society becomes purified from superstition, (an event which no friend to religion will regard as visionary,) the gradual oblivion into which old traditions and mythologies must ne

cessarily fall, will probably affect the character of poetry with regard to the speciosa miracula of her fiction. But supposing the human fancy ceased to converse with exploded mythologies, still the active principle of imagination must remain alive, and it will only change the object of its visionary enjoyment. The arts may rise and fall, but the powers of the mind from which they spring cannot be extinguished in the constitution of man, without a metamorphosis of his nature, or rather a disease that would paralyse one half of his moral fabric. And can this be expected from civilization? No. There is an indestructible love of ideal happiness in the human heart. Whilst there is a star in heaven, man will look to it with a day-dream of brighter worlds. long as a mortal and imperfect state fails to accommodate the shew of things to the desires of the mind, the optimism of our hearts will fly from the accidents and imperfections, to the ideal beauty and harmony of nature, and this is but another word for poetry." Mr Müllner does not deal with the ideal harmony of nature, but with exploded superstitions, invented by ignorance and credulity.

As

The sum of all poetical justice is to punish crimes, which is probably also the course of nature. The tragic poet should therefore record her decrees as they are, fulfil them in her own way, rather than make others, or represent her as unjust. Basil's first crime is his marriage contrary to law, and his second a murder to strengthen himself against his first injustice. The natural consequences of such actions would be to weaken his authority; his subjects would cease to respect him, and he knowing that, would dread them. Mutual jealousies and quarrels would ensue, his right to the crown would be more than ever questioned; the succession would be insecure, and he would be constantly apprehensive of a fate si milar to Camastro. In the Albaneserin, no such events as these occur. Basil reigns secure; and instead of his crimes, the brilliant and opposite virtues of his offspring are punished. The care he bestows on the education of his children would with nature be

• New Monthly Magazine for February 1821.

a redeeming virtue; but the poet misrepresenting her, makes it the immediate cause of his misery. This is as inconsequent and false, as if he united qualities which cannot possibly co-exist in the same mind. All the consequences of an action, as far as the individual is concerned, are states of mind following in a regular and ordered succession, though different ac cording to the situation, habits, and opinions of the individual. True poetical justice consists in accurately tracing these states of mind. Fate, or destiny, or demons in the poet's work, are interposed between man and the decrees of nature, which they violate as much by representing the succession of events, or states of mind different from what it is, as if they were to sketch, as true, centaurs or any other monsters, though it may require a larger share of knowledge in one case to detect the violation than in the other. As long as the poet shares the popular belief, we cannot censure him for using such imaginary beings; but, in this case, Mr Müllner neither be lieves in them himself, nor do the majority of his countrymen. They do not heighten the interest, therefore; on the contrary, they destroy it, by making men act from motives which we cannot comprehend. We have, perhaps, extended our observations on this subject too far; our rea son for doing so, however, and which may probably justify us to our readers, is, that we observe even some of the most reasonable critics in Germany, who are fully aware of the absurdity of imitating the ancients in some other points, have rather a leaning to their use of Fate as a poetical agent. Tragedies on this mysterious principle are somewhat on the increase in Germany; even in our own country, some persons are yet attached to them; and, therefore, as far as our warning voice may be of service, we have thought it right, on this occasion, to put forth such observations as occurred to us on the subject.

The vicious principle which we have here opposed is the more dangerous when acted on by Mr Müllner, because he recommends it by the vigour of his conceptions and the graces of his style. Since the days of Schiller, we know no German author so masculine in his turn of thinking as Müllner. He has not yet attained all the

grace, flexibility, and lightness of his great progenitor; the beauties of his works, indeed, appear far sought, and, at times, much laboured. The bright est conceptions are delivered by Schiller with an ease which makes them appear quite natural, though it is known that all his latter productions were the result of much reading and study. In Müllner the thoughts appear cold, his imagination is not vivid, and all his best passages are laboured into grandeur. He did not begin to write till rather late in life, which accounts for his wanting that apparent fluency which even scribblers attain who begin to scribble early. He is, however, quite conscious of his strength, and does not fear to descend from his lofty height, and dip his wing in the waters of playfulness. Though he does not sink gracefully, he always rises again with vigour; and he can stoop even to vulgarity, because he is sure that it will neither detain nor contaminate him. His unnatural plots, the forced situation of his characters, and the far-fetched distresses, with all of which nobody can sympathize, together with the vigour of his conceptions and the power of his language, remind us, when we read his works, of the novels of Mr Godwin. In all this gentleman's writings, however, there is a visible sincerity and earnestness. Mr Müllner, on the contrary, has a decided taste for satire and biting caus➡ tic wit. We trace in his works, particularly in his prefaces and annotations, a sort of contempt for other people, and even for his own labours, so that, when his book is read to the end, we lay it down with the unplea sant feeling that he has been fooling

us.

High as he at present stands, there is little hope of his ever attaining the first place in German literature. He is already somewhat advanced in life, and he is so constantly engaged in petty literary squabbles, that he cannot command that equanimity of spirit which, in all the fine arts, is so necessary to enable any person to reach perfection.

Our remarks have extended so far, that we have no room to give, as we intended, any other specimens than those already quoted of our author's manner of writing.

From the Schuld and Yngurd being already before the public, as far

as they are concerned we do not reThe Albaneserin is more gret this. artificially constructed, and fuller of metaphysical remarks, than either of the other pieces. There is, at times, a play on words, which displeases. A prodigious number of passages are put in italics, as if almost every one was to be emphatic. Directions to the performers are also multiplied more, probably, than there is any occasion for; though, should actresses appear on the German theatre, of which, however, we never recollect an example, as we have seen them on the Edinburgh stage, travelling in flowing white satin robe, and silk shoes, through a mountainous country, it may be necessary to remind them to suit their costume to the occasion.

When this article was ready for the press, we observed a short biography of Müllner in a very respectable contemporary Journal. The notices of his life are, we believe, correct; but they are terminated by a quotation from some French work which, in our opinion, does Müllner's tragedy of Yngurd much injustice. We are persuaded that neither the English nor the French author has understood Yngurd, perhaps has never read it, or the one could not have written such absurd remarks, nor the other have so blunderingly copied them. We counsel our countryman to take no French criticisms of German works on trust; they are never correct; and if he desires the original, to study the lofty mind, and the deep occasional pathos of Müllner, amidst much nonsense, we have a copy of Yngurd, which is quite at his service.

REMARKS ON FOSTER'S ESSAY ON

POPULAR IGNORANCE.

MR FOSTER is undoubtedly one of the most eloquent and original writers of the present day. He is evidently possessed of great vigour, and uncommon ardour of mind. The novelty of the views he presents to us, and still more, perhaps, the energy and determination that are indicated in the adoption of them, and in the man

Baldwin's London Magazine for April.

ner in which they are brought out, -the force of character, so to speak, which is so strongly impressed on all his works, joined to an extraordinary copiousness and occasional splendour of illustration, justly entitle him to be considered as a very striking and interesting writer. But, independently of his own celebrity, his present essay claims our notice from the intimate relation it bears to a subject that is of paramount importance, and one, too, which, fortunately, at present occupies a large share of public attention. The view he takes of it is one of great interest, and cannot fail deeply to affect every serious and reflecting mind; and his mode of treating it is distinguished by his usual strength of intellect, and profusion of imagery. We are not prepared at present to enter into any general discussion about the education of the lower orders, but propose to give a rapid analysis of Mr F.'s Essay, interspersed with a few remarks, both on the style in which the work is executed, and the general subjects it brings under our review.

It is a very common, but nevertheless a very true and important remark, that there is no good thing but what is liable to be abused. The material elements with which we are surrounded, intended as they are to be the means of our comfort and preservation, may be converted into the instruments of our misery and destruction. And the powers and faculties of our minds, bestowed on us for the best and noblest uses, may be rendered subservient to purposes, the most degrading and pernicious. It is one law of our nature, that present and sensible objects take a stronger hold of the mind, and produce a more powerful influence on the passions, than those that are distant, and whose existence is realized solely by an ef fort of intellect. It is another law of our nature, that events and circumstances calculated to make a powerful impression on our feelings, lose their influence by frequent repetition, and at length become incapable of produ cing any deep or almost perceptible emotion. Both these laws are productive of the highest benefits, when acting within their proper sphere, and under the control of the understanding. The former enables us to obtain a ready knowledge, and retain a per

fect recollection of those objects, about which we are of necessity chiefly conversant. The latter, again, is indispensable, to enable us to submit to those repeated pains and vexations, to which, in the ceaseless fluctuations of this changing scene, we are constantly subjected. But both these laws are liable to great perversion. By allowing the first to operate beyond its natural limits, and without due restraint, we become incapable of yielding a proper attention to remote and intellectual objects, however much these may preponderate over present ones in magnitude and importance. As an abuse of the latter, again, we may mention that hard and unfeeling disregard, which is apt to be induced by the frequent contemplation of distress, of those circumstances in the lot of others which at first awaken, and justly awaken, our acutest sympathy.

Now, we apprehend, that it is by the perverted operation of these two laws of human nature, that we are to explain the listless apathy with which we regard the intellectual state of a large proportion of mankind, a state, by virtue of which, it may justly be said of them in the emphatic words of Scripture, which Mr F. has chosen as the motto of his book, that the "people perish for lack of knowledge." The evils which result from the lack of knowledge are chiefly, though not solely, of a moral and spiritual nature. They are, likewise, so general, and of such constant occurrence, that they call forth no effort of attention, and leave no trace in the memory, and exert little or no influence on the feelings. And thus the undue extension of two laws of our constitution, adapted for very different purposes, becomes the source of a most impenetrable and lethargic insensibility, to subjects the most interesting and important that can be suggested for our consideration. Though the statements of Scripture are strong and reiterated, though the debasing effects of the people's lack of knowledge are obtruded on our notice in the most palpable form, through the whole period of their "long sad history," the warning language of inspiration sounds in our ears, like words of an unknown tongue, that strike, indeed, upon the outward sense, but speedily die away, without conveying an idea to the mind, and the

exemplifications which we behold of the fact in the world around us, are looked on with as little emotion, as are the features of a landscape through which we travel, while all its varied scenery is wrapt in the darkness and the silence of night; there is, in fact, no very distinct understanding of the terms of the statement, and no deliberate and rooted conviction of its truth; no conviction, at least, that leads to deep and permanent feelings of compassion, or to active and zealous benevolent exertion. This is pretty nearly the state of mind of the careless and unreflecting, and against a tendency to such a state, the good and the conscientious will find it necessary continually to struggle.

By way of preface to our review, we have pursued a train of thought somewhat similar to that with which Mr Foster introduces his essay, and we have followed it rather diffusely, because, while we acknowledge that many of his remarks are striking and pertinent, there is a vagueness about some of them, particularly such as relate to the nature and origin of the feeling he so strongly reprobates, (a feeling, we think, neither novel nor anomalous,) which, in our view, is unfavourable to the attainment of precise views of its real evil. We can scarcely afford time to attend him in the glance he takes at the state of the old world, and the aspect of Christendom previous to the Reformation, before he enters on the chief part of the work. Indeed, of this portion of the volume, especially the first part of it, we must say we do not think highly; it bears unquestionably the marks of the author's very peculiar and masculine genius,— there is vivid description, there is appalling denunciation, there is occasionally profound and original reflection, but there is a want of coherence in the train of thought that runs through it, and though the subjects noticed in it have some relation to the object of the work, we do not see that the relation was either very close or very important to be traced. Mr Foster's object avowedly is to promote the success of the benevolent exertions of the societies for educating the Eng

• Mr Foster refers every such feeling to original sin, which is to him what the Deus ex machina was in the Greek theatre.

lish poor. Now, we do not see how a didactic work intended for such a purpose required a historical disquisition, such as this, by way of introduction to it; at least if it be not quite superfluous, it is certainly considerably too long. Besides, there is little definitiveness or accuracy in it. Some things are illustrated with undue prominence, and others equally necessary to be considered in order to obtain a complete view of the subject, are omitted or only incidentally noticed.

There is a great deal about the Hea then nations, yet we cannot see that their want of a divine revelation can be charged to them as culpable ignorance. The feelings with which we contemplate these nations of antiquity are of an intense and rather melancholy interest; but we cannot think it necessary either for the sake of exalting the benefits we derive from Christianity, or of proving any of its peculiar doctrines, to represent them, and even their very virtues, as has been done by certain writers, (among whom, however, we do not mean to include our author,) as objects of almost unmingled loathing and disgust. When we contemplate the numerous instances with which history abounds, of unshaken fortitude, of devoted pa triotism, and ardent friendship, viewed in connection with the darkness in which the most important subjects were involved, the instances which we observe of men panting, after truth, anxious and restless amidst the errors that encompassed them, and yet not knowing how to extricate themselves; instead of bitter and acrimonious censure, we think the wiser and the juster feeling, the feeling that is more accordant with the mild and gently judging charity which our religion inculcates, is pity for their wandering, and humble gratitude for the better knowledge which we enjoy; and it might not be altogether an unsuitable exercise for some of the stern denouncers of heathen virtue among us to reflect, if they, amid all the obscurity that enveloped them, from the few faint gleams of light that penetrated the darkness of their moral atmosphere, could exhibit in certain aspects of their character, so much of the grace and the majesty of virtue, what ought we ourselves to be in the full blaze of that illumination which shines around us? There

is, however, undoubtedly a feeling of illusive admiration which is apt to be generated in the mind by dwelling on the splendid achievements and characters detailed in ancient history, and this Mr Foster very ably and justly exposes.

We must pass over all that he says of the corruptions of the Romish church, and shall rather come down to what appears to us both newer and more important, his view of the state of the population of England since the Reformation. The manner in which he dispels that feeling of illusory complacency, (in so far as relates to our own history,) which we have noticed as operating in the case of Greece and Rome, though somewhat unceremonious, is most masterly and powerful. We shall quote a passage which relates to what is certainly one of the brightest and proudest ages of our literary glory.

"And here we cannot help remarking what a deception we suffer to pass on us from history. It celebrates some period in a nation's career as pre-eminently illus trious for magnanimity, lofty enterprise, literature, and original genius. There was perhaps a learned and vigorous monarch, and there were Cecils, and Walsinghams, and Shakespeares, and Spencers, and Sidneys, and Raleighs, with many other powerproudest age of our national glory. And ful thinkers and actors, to render it the we thoughtlessly admit on our imagination this splendid exhibition, as representing, in some indistinct manner, the collective state of the people in that age! The ethereal summits of a tract of the moral world are conspicuous and fair in the lustre of Heaven, and we take no thought of the immensely greater proportion of it which is sunk in gloom, and covered with fogs. The general mass of the population, whose fidelity to the interests of the country, were physical vigour, indeed, and courage, and of such admirable avail to the purposes, and under the direction of the mighty spirits that wielded their rough agency, this great mass was sunk in such mental barbarism, as to be placed at about the same distance from their illustrious intellectual chiefs, as the hordes of Scythia from the most elevated minds of Athens. It was nothing to this great debased mul titude spread over the country, existing in the coarsest habits, destitute in the pro tion, and still to a considerable extent enportion of ten thousand to one of cultivaslaved by the Popish superstition,—it was nothing, directly, to them, as to drawing

forth their minds into free exercise and acquirement, that there were, within the