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that which is of earth for bearing some colour of its original ? Long, long will I remember your features, and bless God that I leave my noble deliverer united with ". She stopped shorther
eyes filled with tears. She hastily wiped them, and answered to the anxious inquiries of Rowena_ I am well, Lady-well. But my heart swells when I think of Torquilstone and the lists of Templestowe.-- Farewell. One, the most trifling part of my duty, remains undischarged. Accept this casket-startle not at its contents. Rowena opened the small silver chased casket, and perceived a carcanet, or necklace, with ear-jewels, of diamonds, which were visibly of immense value." It is impossible," she said, tendering back the casket. " I dare not accept a gift of such consequence.
“ Yet keep it, lady,” returned Rebecca.--" You have power, rank, command, influence; we have wealth, the source both of our strength and weakness; the value of these toys, ten times multiplied, would not influence half so much as your slightest wish. To you, therefore, the gift is of little value--and to me, what I part with is of much less. Let me not think you deem so wretchedly ill of my nation as your commons believe. Think ye that I prize these sparkling fragments of stone above my liberty ? or that my father values them in comparison to the honour of his only child ? Accept them, lady - to me they are valueless. I will never wear jewels more."--" You are then unhappy,” said Rowena, struck with the manner in which Rebecca uttered the last words. • O, remain with us -the counsel of holy men will wean you from your unhappy law, and I will be a sister to you."-" No, lady," answered Rebecca, the same calm melancholy reigning in her soft voice and beautiful features that may not be. I may not change the faith of my fathers like a garinent unsuited to the climate in which I seek to dwell; and unhappy, lady, I will not be. He, to whom I dedicate my future life, will be my comforter, if I do His will.
“ Have you
then convents, to one of which you mean to retire?" asked Rowena." No, lady,” said the Jewess; “ but arnong our people, since the time of Abraham downward, have been women who have devoted their thoughts to Heaven, and their actions to works of kindness to men, tending the sick, feeding the hungry, and relieving the distressed. Among these will Rebecca be numbered. Say this to thy lord, should be inquire after the fate of her whose life he saved." There was an involuniary tremor in Rebecca's voice, and a tenderness of accent, which perhaps betrayed more than she would willingly have expressed. She hastered to bid Rowena adieu. • Farewell,” she said, “ may He, who made both Jew and Christian, shower down on you his choicest blessings.
"She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena surprised as if a vision had passed before her. The fair Saxon related the singular conference to her husband, on whose mind it made a deep impression. He lived long and happily with Rowena, for they were attached to each other by the bonds of early affection, and they loved each other
the more, from recollection of the obstacles which had impeded their union. Yet it would be inquiring too curiously to ask, whether the recollection of Rebecca's beauty and magnanimity did not recur to his mind more frequently than the fair descendant of Alfred might altogether have approved.' III. 363-370.
When we look back on the space we have already occupied, we are afraid to add any more; and, when we glance at the extracts with which it is nearly filled, we feel that it is unnecessary. The work before us shows at least as much genius as any of those with which it must now be mumbered—and excites perhaps, at least on the first perusal, as strong an interest: But it does not delight so deeply-and we rather think it will not please so long. Rebecca is almost the only lovely being in the story—and she is evidently a creature of the fancy--a mere poe, tical personification. Next to her-for Isaac is but a milder Shylock, and by no means more natural than his original—the heartiest interest is excited by the outlaws and their merry chief --because the tone and manners ascribed to them are more akin to those that prevailed
ycomanry of later days, than those of the Knights, Priors and Princes, are to any thing with which this age has been acquainted.–Cedric the Saxon, and Bois-Guilbert the Templar, are to us but theoretical or mythological persons. We know nothing about them--and never feel assured that we fully comprehend their drift, or enter rightly into their feelings. The same genius which now busies us with their concerns, might have excited an equal interest for the adventures of Oberon and Pigwiggin—or for any imaginary community of Giants, Amazons, or Cynocephali. The interest we do take is in the situations—and the extremes of perid, heroism, and atrocity, in which the great latitude of the fiction enables the author to indulge. Even with this advantage, we soon feel, not only that the characters he brings before us are contrary to our experience, but that they are actually impossible. There could in fact have been no such state of society as that of which the story before us professes to give us but samples and ordinary results. In a country beset with such worthics as Front-deBauf, Malvoisin, and the rest, Isaac the Jew could neither have grown rich, nor lived to old age; and no Rebecca could either have acquired her delicacy, or preserved her honour. Neither could a plump Prior Aymer have followed venery in woods swarming with the merry men of Robin Hood.-Rotherwood must have been burned to the ground two or three times every year--and all the knights and thanes of the land been killed off nearly as often.--The thing, in short, when calmly conisidered, cannot be imagined to be a reality; and, after gazing
for a while on the splendid pageant which it presents, and admiring the exaggerated beings who counterfeit, in their grand style, the passions and feelings of our poor human nature, we soon find that we must turn again to our Waverleys and Antiquaries and Old Mortalities, and become acquainted with our neighbours and ourselves, and our duties and dangers and true felicities, in the exquisite pictures which our author there exhia bits of the follies we daily witness or display, and of the prejudices, habits and affections, by which we are hourly obstructed, governed, or cheered.
We end, therefore, as we began—by preferring the home scenes, and the copies of originals which we know-but admiring, in the highest degree, the fancy and judgment and feeling by which this more distant and ideal prospect is enriched. It is a splendid Poem-and contains matter enough for six good Tragedies. As it is, it will make a glorious melodrame for the end of the season. Perhaps the author does better-for us and for himself—by writing mere novels; but we have an earnest wish that he would try his hand in the bow of Shakespeare-venture fairly within his enchanted circle--and reassert the Dramatic Sovereignty of England, by putting forth a genuine Tragedy of passion, fancy, and incident. He has all the qualifications to ensure success *--except perhaps the art of compression :-for we suspect it would cost him something to confine his story, and the development of his characters, to some fifty or sixty small pages. But the attempt is worth making; and he may be certain, that he cannot fail without glory. It would be a relief to us, and to our readers too, if he would make his scenes rather shorter ;--for it is at least as much the feeling that we cannot do justice to his delineations in a scanty extract, as the fascination of the matter we are extracting, that leads us to such copious and redundant citations as we have now been making.
* We take it for granted, that the charming extracts from Old Plays,' that are occasionally given as mottoes to the chapters of this and some of his other works, are original compositions of the author whose prose they garnish :—and they show that he is not less a master of the most beautiful style of Dramatic versification, than of all the higher and more inward secrets of that forgotten, art.
Art. II. 1. Reports from the Select Committee on Finance,
ordered to be printed by the House of Commons in the Sessions of 1817, 1818, and 1819.
2. Resolutions on the Retrenchment of the Public Expenditure,
ordered to be printed July 1st, 1819. W E sometimes fatigue our readers, we fear, with our details
of Finance, and dissertations on Political Economy :But at present we mean to be very clear, concise, and elementary. Our affairs have come at last to a crisis which makes it necessary that every man in the country should be aware of their true situation ;-and as merchants call a general meeting of their creditors when any great embarrassment compels them to solicit their aid or forbearance, so the hazard in which we now seem to be placed, of an actual insolvency in the Treasury, makes it indispensable that every one should know the true state of the danger, and consider of the sacrifices which should be made to avert so great a calamity. We do not propose, therefore, on this occasion, to go into any controversial or disputable matters; but to confine ourselves almost entirely to a plain and simple exposition of our actual condition, and a short and dispassionate survey of the steps by which we have been led into it. In a subsequent article of this Number, we shall probably take a more extended view of the history and consequences of our present system of taxation ; but in this we mean only to lay before our readers its plain and undeniable results; and to suggest, without arguing upon them, the alternatives to which it
appears to have reduced us. For this purpose, we shall first take å slight review of the various financial contrivances by which it has been successively pretended, since the commencement of the late war, that the mischief of loans and taxes would be
prevented-then shortly consider the state into which our reliance on them has actually brought us—and finally suggest what it yet remains for us to do, to restore or preserve what is left of our financial resources.
The first great war measure, then, by which we were to be protected from the evils of the war expenditure, was the new settling of the Sinking Fund in the year 1793: And when we say, that the whole plan, from the beginning to the end, has proved a mere deception, we mean to impute no improper motives to its authors, but only to state the fact as it ought to be stated,--and may
be shown in a single sentence that it must be stated, in order to express the truth; For it is a fact equally decisive and notorious, that this sinking fund has been formed ever since the year 1793, wholly out of the loans which have beeñ annually borrowed. In no year since that period, has there been a surplus of revenue beyond the expenditure. But such a surplus alone could have made this fund in any way operative towards
įts avowed object of liquidating debt; and, therefore, though we have been amused with fine statements, showing how many millions have been paid off, the upshot of the whole is, that a new debt has been created, to the exact amount of the debt which has been paid off. This result indeed will be self-evident to any one who will take the trouble of reflecting on the neces sary consequences of the revenue falling uniformly short of the expenditure. When this is the case, it is plain, that the loan to be borrowed must amount to the difference between the revenue and the expenditure. But if a sinking fund is to be provided, it makes an additional item in the expenditure; and the loan must. just be so much larger. By the oflicial trick of charging the sinking fund against the taxes which form the incoine of the consolidated fund, its actual effect in increasing the debt is kept for a moment out of sight; but the slightest reflection must show, that if the whole sinking fund be annually borrowed, it cannot possibly produce any annual diminution of the debt. The only service it has performed, has been that of enabling ministers to make loans with greater facility, and to persuade the public to bear taxation with more good humour, *vhile it has encouraged a most profuse expenditure, and actually cost the public, for the expenses of the commissioners and office, the sum of 187,0001. *
In the year 1798, when it was found difficult to obtain a loan for the expenses of the war, Mr Pitt proposed his plan for Equalizing the Income and Expenditure. He assured the public, that if they would consent to such a scale of taxation as he then proposed to them, the war might be carried on without any great increase of the debt, or any ultimate injury to the financial resources of the country. The arguments and eloquence of that eminent person, had tneir usual success; and the Income tax was the first result of this new system. The successors of Mr Pitt, under the sanction of his authority, easily persuaded the public, at subsequent periods, to pay the Property-tax, and other taxes, called 'the Customs and Excise War Taxes, for the same declared object of equalizing the income, and expenditure. In this way a revenue of 22 millions a year was obtained over and above the ordinary revenue of the country; and although the total amount received from these taxes, during the war, was nearly 300 millions. † The debt went on increasing from 397 millions, which was its amount at that period, to 800
* Parliamentary Papers, Sess. 1819, No. 68. p. 10. † Mr Vansitiart states 200 millions to have been paid up to 1813. See Outlines of a Plan ot Finance, p. 5.