sages as the following, in which the Queen is endeavouring to assuage the angry Moor:

Looke smoothly on me!Chime out your softest strains of harmony, And on delicious musick's silken wings Send ravishing delight to my loue's ears, That he may be inamour'd of your tunes.

The "Edward II." of the same author in no respect differs from some of the historical plays attributed to Shakespeare, excepting in its superiority, both in conduct and poetry. It has been already said, that the Richard II. of the latter has been drawn upon the model of Marlow's unhappy monarch, whose vacillating character is quite as finely contrasted with that of the rash and blustering Mortimer, as the disposition and conduct of Richard is with the hot aspiring Bolingbroke. I had purposed to go into some detail on the peculiar merits of this play, but to do so with any success would demand an article of itself, and it is the less necessary as the historical tragedy is inserted in Dodsley's Collection. Your readers will also, perhaps, be of opinion that I have already dwelt long enough upon Marlow. J. P. C.

London, July 1820.

1.

is from the confession of this holy man, made on his death-bed, and after the poor victim of his apostacy was already in her grave.

"I was the second son of the Duke Manfredi, by his second wife, in right of whom I bore the name and enjoyed the fortune of the family of Guastalla; but at an early age I discovered a distaste for the things of this world, and a passion for retirement and theological studies, which seemed to prove me called by a voice from Heaven to devote myself to the service or the church." Vol. I. p. 218.

What follows is powerfully given.

"At the age of sixteen I began my noviciate in a convent of Benedictines at Rome. With what delight did my ears and distinguished piety! How was my drink in the praises bestowed on my early extraordinary self-denial and penance the pride gratified when I found my acts of theme of admiration, and that 1 was held up as a model to the other novices in the convent! Infatuated being! not to feel that the heart which was elated by human praise for homage to its God was actuated by an earthly ambition, not by the irresistible impulses of heavenly zeal

"But I thought myself the holiest of the holy, and I took the vows at the age of seventeen. Yes, the youthful Count Manfredi di Guastalla laid down his worldly honours, to be known no more but as the Father Francisco. Still the ambition of my soul prompted me, in spite of my re

OF THE HEART.

THIS lady does not improve in her manufacture of tales as she proceeds, -her great staple was her pathos, and that she seems, pretty nearly, to have exhausted, nor has she much talent for incident or character to make up for it. Yet there are striking situations, occurring every now and then, in her later writings, which remind us of their better promise-and which come upon the heart, with an impression that cannot easily be thrown off. There is one of these in her first tale in this collection,-a singular story of a Roman Catholic priest who fell in love with a beautiful nun, and in consequence, not only broke his vows, but abandoned character, reputation, and all the most darling idols of his ambition, to attain the object of his unfortunate passion. The passage, which we shall lay before our readers,

4 Vols. London, 1820.

name of Father Francisco by eloquence and learning; ad in idea the sacred tiara already glittered on my brow. With this view, though I redoubled my austerities, I at the same time also redoubled my attention to my studies; and my fame as a preacher, when once I had been permitted to ascend the chair, spread from Rome through every town in the Pontificate, till, by the time that I was one-and-twenty,

crowds collected wherever I was, to see me

pass along, and kiss the hem of my garment; and the proudest beauties of Italy humbled themselves in the overwhelming consciousness of sin before the holy eloquence of the youthful Benedictine. But did not he who thus admonished others require admonition himself? Was he who called sinners to repentance free himself from the consciousness of sin? Alas! undetected, the damning sin of pride clave unto my secret soul, and terrible was the humiliation preparing for me.

"By this time I was known personally, as a theologian, a saint, and an orator, to some of the first men of the age; to Cardinal de Retz, and other distinguished men who visited Rome; and I was invited to go

to Paris, to preach before the Grand Monarque: nor would my vanity have denied itself this gratification, had I not been certainly stopped in my career by a power whose influence I despised, and against which, puffed up with self-righteousness, I had never thought of arming myself by humble reliance on my God."

Vol. I. pp. 219-221.

A young lady of a noble family, nearly related to Francisco, but whom he had never seen, was likewise strongly impelled to dedicate her life to heaven. An intercourse of letters took place between them, in which he warmly approved of her resolution.

"In the mean while, I was advancing in reputation, and was the delighted idol of kneeling crowds; and engravings of me, taken from the picture which you will find in the box I shall give you, were spread over the Continent. Scarcely, perhaps, will you believe that I ever resembled that picture, which exhibits a man glowing with the bloom of youth, and in unblighted pride. The print, however, which is colourless, resembles me still; and little did Father Vincent think, when he looked on the mysterious stranger with so suspicious an eye at Delmayne, that a portrait of me was hanging up in his apartment, as the holy Father Francisco. This print was given by one of our mutual relatives to Rosmunda, who sent me in return, with a letter full of humble veneration, a minia ture of herself, painted by a pensioner in her nun's dress, soon after she had taken the vows, and when the austerities of her religious duties had begun to injure the roses of her cheek. But, though I knew it not, in spite of its languid eye and faded bloom, that face, when I first beheld it, even in painting, called forth in me emotions never known before. I fancied them the result of admiration for that zeal, which could resolve to bury such beauty in a convent: but, though my proud heart disdained to believe that aught of human passion mingled with my adoration, certain it is, that I have often turned from the image of the Virgin to gaze on Sister Angela, (as Rosmunda was now called ;) and that, having done so, I have penned letters to her glowing with all the fervour of earthly and forbidden ardour. She, poor innocent! believed as I did; and we were far gone in a correspondence, which, though it treated wholly of religion, was written with the pen of passion, when we both of us fell ill,-I from the fatigues and austerities of my religious profession, which threatened me with consumption, and she from her too rigorous observance of fasts and penances. We were both ordered by our physician to the baths of Baia, near which

VOL. VII.

our mutual relative, the young Marquis di Romano, had lately purchased a villa. Our noble relatives were excessively devoted to holy books and holy beings; and the idea of having two such youthful saints near them was most gratifying to their enthusiastic minds. Nor was it long before they formed to themselves the delightful prospect of prevailing on us to take up our abode under their roof. And what should

prevent it? No danger could accrue to two such sanctified beings from a familiar intercourse; and there was no doubt but that their whole family would be edified and hallowed by our presence.

"Alas!

our own betraying wishes agreed but too well with theirs; and I veiled my real motives from my view, by believing that I wished to converse on doc trinal points with my correspondent face to face, because I had reason, as I fancied, to apprehend that she was a litte tinctured with Jansenism; as she had been deeply impressed with the high reputation and talents of Sister Angelica of Port-Royal, where heresy was suspected to flourish under the countenance of the celebrated Arnauds.

To be brief: We consented to stay at the villa of the Marquis, and still more eagerly consented to meet there. O day of fate! a day big with inconceivable misery, when I first gazed upon that form of breathing loveliness, and viewed that face where the woman's impassioned tenderness, and the saint's holy zeal, shed indescribable fascination over the features of a Grecian Venus! Never shall I forget my emotion, when she bent her knee with modest reverence before me, and, crossing her beautiful hands on her bosom, besought my blessing.

"Those hands, so often lifted with confidence to call down blessings upon others, now trembled, as if palsied by conscious forebodings, while raised to Heaven for her; and the voice faltered, which uttered the now inarticulate prayer.

"When she rose, with a glistening eye and blushing cheek, and gazed upon me with a look of flattering regard and reverence, the tender impulse which made me wish to clasp her to my heart, ought to have convinced me, that, though I proudly thought myself a teacher and an example, my breast was about to glow with a consuming fire, and one which other love than that of Heaven had kindled. But I was self-confiding; and I thought that for me, the gifted one, to fall from grace, was impossible, and I hurried blindly on to my destruction. Alas! I hurried not on alone.

"We had met, and we were left daily together; for we feared not for ourselves, and who should presume to fear for us? When not alone, we witnessed the wedded happiness of the Marquis and his Paulina,

U

and we judged by their parental transports, as they beheld the gambols of their children, how sweet it was to be a parent. Once, too, the inconsiderate Marquis said, as he held one of his babes up in his arms to be kissed by Angela,

"See, my dear cousin, what a cherub this girl is! And such a blessing might have been yours, had not you been called upon to resign all worldly ties, and even the lawful indulgence of the purest affections, for the still higher joys of the self devoted vestal.':*

"Aye, and you too, holy father,' cried his innocent wife, 6 you too gave up a great deal to gain the height at which you now stand. What a beautiful couple would you and sister Angela have been! Your children would have been little angels !'

"It is strange, though true, that, till this moment, the veil had never been re moved from the eyes of either of us; but it now fell, never to be replaced!

"I felt a mist come over my sight, and should have fallen to the ground had not a scream from the Marchioness restored me to myself; for Angela, conscious like myself, too late, of the sacrifice we had made through the delusions of a heated fancy, had sunk nearly insensible at her feet. However, my support she determinedly avoided, while to the arm of the Marquis she clung with conscious preference. But she had not an equal power over her eyes; for when she unclosed them again they in voluntarily sought mine; and that look, given and returned, discovered by a single glance the heart of the one to the other.

"Terrible was the night I passed. She, I conclude, had slept as little; and we appeared the next day with such altered looks, that our kind-hearted relations, who had rejoiced in our renovated bloom during our stay at Baia, now grieved to think they should restore us to our cells with the same pallid cheeks we wore at our arrival. Restore us to our cells! As well might they have hoped to restore the Neapolitan to his dwelling which had been covered with a burning tide of lava.

We had indeed recovered our health during our fatal visit, for we were happy in the unconscious gratification of the dearest feelings of our nature. We loved, and we were near each other; no pang of remorse clouded over our pleasure; and when we retired at night, we knew that we should meet and converse the next day, and nearly all the day, with each other. But now, what was to be done? I felt that we must separate; at least I thought this in my cooler moments: but sometimes, as I was sure my passion was returned, I had serious thoughts of conjuring Angela to fly with me from the unnatural fetters in which the frantic dreams of our youth had bound us, and vow at another altar to pass our

lives together. Next moment, shocked at my own delinquency, I shrunk not from the less criminal resolve,--as I considered it, of self-destruction: for how could I bear to live, and live without Angela ?

Weak, deluded being! Now was the time to prove the reality of that holy vocation, in whose imagined security I had so presumptuously gloried, proudly supposing myself raised above the frailties and temptations of human nature, because I had never been exposed to their assault. Now was the time to show my faith, by conquering my weakness: hitherto I had claimed the honours of a triumph, before I had fought, or even beheld a battle.

"What was passing in the mind and heart of Angela was, as I afterwards found, a transcript of mine; but, more capable of self-command than I was, she continued to avoid me, and for two days, under pre tence of indisposition, she kept her chamber. This conduct, instead of exciting my respect and my emulation, piqued my pride; for I began to fear I had deceived myself in thinking that she loved me, and that her avoidance of me proceeded from a desire to repress the daring hope which my looks had displayed. Not from principle, therefore, but from pique, I resolved to avoid her. I did so; and I had soon the cruel satisfaction of seeing that she was wounded by my averted eyes, and that her resolution of avoiding my presence was fast failing her. But where, you will say, was the penetration of the marquis and marchioness? Did they not guess the cause of your altered conduct ?-No; there are some persons, and such were they, who, when they have once conceived an opinion, never can be led to change it. They bad believed, that for a monk, though he was only a monk of one-and-twenty, to feel the power of beauty and the force of passion was impossible; and that a man, though only a girl of nineteen, could not be sus! ceptible of any love but that of her Saviours Therefore, they interfered not to save us: from each other and from ourselves, and we were too faithless to our best interests to implore with sincerity of heart the aid of a higher being.

"At this critical moment, Angela's sister, who had just been united to the man of her heart, came to pass the first days of her marriage at the baths of Baia; as she longed to make the sister whom she loved the witness of her felicity. Little did she think, that the nun whom she had seen absorbed in her religious exercises had now learnt to hold the cloister in abhorrence.

"They came; and we, whose bosoms burned with as warm a flame, were doomed to witness the happy love which we were forbidden to know.

"At length my resolution was taken!! I would return to my cell; I would re

sume my labours; the dreams of ambition should replace those of love, and by fast ing and penance I would drive Angela from my thoughts. Yet, I was resolved to grant my passion one indulgence, would own it to its object; I would wring from her a confession of a mutual attach ment, and then resign her for ever. I did not long watch in vain for an oppor

tunity..

And

"One day, as the shade of twilight stole over the lovely gardens filled with a thousand odours, and gently tinged with the beams of the setting sun, the two pairs of married lovers left us alone together. Conscious of the weakness of her own heart, and suspecting that of mine, Angela rose, and would have followed them; but I'forcibly detained her, and, grasping her trembling arm, pointed to the objects of our united envy, and exclaimed, See, Angela! see those happy husbands! and think what tortures I endure, who love as tenderly as they do, and never must hope to be as happy!-Speak, thou whose beauty has undone me! Say, have you no pity for a wreteh whom you have made? me, Angela, do I suffer alone?'

Tell

As I spoke with passionate violence, but in a voice subdued even to woman's

gentleness, I pressed her to my heart; and as her head fell upon my shoulder, she murmured out, Yes, you must go; but know that my sufferings and my love are as great as yours." 97

-100 Then why should we part?' cried I. The scene, the hour, the sight of the wedded happiness before us, and my impassioned tenderness, laid the voice of conscience to rest; nor was it long before she bore to hear me talk of the means of cur elopement." Vol. I. pp. 225-239.

And so, of course, elope they did, andoa pretty kettle of fish follows. But we have quoted the only part of the story which is finely done, and we give it as a fair specimen of the best parts of these new Tales.

mating details of plots, conspiracie and politics, to feel any great concern about those famous subjects of dispute which once agitated whole kingdoms, and in which even monarchs sometimes condescended to take a share. The Nominalist and Realist the feelings of men are no longer so now sleep together in equal oblivion; extremely combustible on metaphysical controversies; and one may, there fore, pretend to give a theory even of Impersonal Verbs, without the appalling anathema above-mentioned being cast in one's teeth.

In that very learned and ingenious book, Ted Trigold, or Diversions of Purley, the author, by a process of decomposition, the most rigid and demonstrative, has shown that what has been commonly denominated the faculty of Abstraction is a mere nonentity, and is in fact a name which we have borrowed from the schoolmen, without ever having inquired whether it has any precise and definite meaning. In language, every word, when traced to its source, is significant, and expresses a simple idea. In the progress of improvement, however, that idea, or, what comes to the same thing, the sign of: that idea, is placed in juxtaposition with another idea or its sign, and, by the simultaneous presentation of both to the mind, we obtain a complex idea. Complex ideas, Mr Locke has reduced to three heads, viz. Modes, Substances, and Relations. In the reception of simple ideas, the mind is purely passive, but in the composition of complex ideas, it exerts acts of voluntary power, as it must be ap parent that nothing but an act of the will can account for the juxtaposition i of the ideas, man and horse, (assuming these as simple,) which create the complex idea of a centaur. Now, in the formation of complex ideas, under the three heads of modes, substances, and relations, I apprehend we discover the existence of no new faculty, such as that denominated Abstraction, (which indeed is a synonym with an act of voluntary attention,) but are to refer the whole process of generation to the conjoint operations of the fac culties of Memory and Association : of Memory, which retains ideas of simple impressions, and presents them to the mind's eye; and of Association, which, depending on some original

affections, or relations, subsisting among our ideas, or which the mind imagines to subsist among them, groups them together according to these fundamental laws of our intellectual frame, in total independence of any act of volition on our part. To put this doctrine in a clearer light, let us take an example. The substantive tree, when enunciated, in this unqualified and unrestricted form, conveys, to the mind, no tangible or distinct meaning; at least, as far as I am able to perceive. In the same manner, the word angle, or any other word put in a general form, is, per se, equally non-significant. Men become acquainted with every object in nature by its properties or attributes. What are the properties of the words tree and angle, put in the abstract form, without any limitary adjunct? What idea can we possibly have of tree, which is neither an apple-tree, a pear-tree, a fig-tree, nor in short any tree, which is still tree, and yet has none of the possible properties of any tree? The same thing may be said of the word angle. The archetypes of simple ideas exist in nature: general terms have nothing to which they correspond: they are, therefore, mere non-entities, about which men may busy themselves till the crack of doom, without knowing more of the subject than we do now, or making one step of advancement in real science.

plished in a very easy and satisfactory manner, by doing nothing more than removing the idea of restriction, limitation, or individuality. For the convenience of illustration, let us suppose the words an apple-tree to express a simple idea, and, of course, an individual of a species. Remove the words an apple, and there remains the word tree, totally unlimited, within a certain range, and the application of which will consequently receive a corresponding latitude. But although it neither has, nor, indeed, can have any archetype in nature; although we cannot tell what the word tree really means, except that we may use it in certain relations, and within certain limits, we can nevertheless, with perfect accuracy, describe what it is not,-how far such a word can be applied, without absurdity,-and when its application ceases to be recognized by the mind in an intelligible form; in other words, we can perceive, as already hinted at, that the word stands in certain relations to other terms and ideas, the limits of which relations are perfectly precise and definite. Thus, were we ranging an immense forest, replenished with the most diversified forms of trees, we could instinctively recognize that the application of the term tree was limited only by the extent of the class of objects before and around us, and beyond them, would become inconceivable and absurd.

In short, a, the unknown quantity, on the left side of an algebraic equation, is the only illustration of this extremely nice and ticklish matter, which I am able, at present, to call up. As soon as the equation is constituted, we discover, at once, how z is limited, and the relation which it bears to other ideas that are known : And having this point fixed, we can reason, with mathematical certainty, of a, narrowing, more and more, the limits of its relations, till, at last, it turns out a relation of equality to one thing known from the commencement of the operation, being part of the data necessary to the solution. But it must be obvious that, until we arrive at the last step in the process, we continue in total ignorance of x, and can no more tell what it is, than we can define the word angle, without employing the words right, obtuse, acute, isosceles, or scalene.

Having made these preliminary ob