this beautiful resolution had taken root in my mind, the moon had taken it into her head to draw her curtains, and through my dazzled eyes she wafted on one of her silvery rays the white parallelograin which lay upon my table;-my brain reeled; in a moment I was upon my feet, and, naked and cold, I flew to the casement, and threw it open. It is said the moon cares not for seeing lunatics; be that as it may, the moment I opened the window she disappear ed; and in consequence (I suppose) of some emissary chambermaid to Stromboli, I received such a gust of cold winter wind in my naked breast, that supplied me with phlegm for a month's expectoration. This was too much to speak upon,-it was even too much for a hum of a tune,-it required the high consideration of an oath; so, just when I was upon the point of doing this little piece of duty, I recollected that it was a west wind which had used me so ill, and that, though it just now prevented me from reading the let ter, besides giving me a cold, it had wafted that same letter into my hands for to-morrow's perusal; so I went to bed again, resolving to do all in my power to sleep, and thereby to be awake. Many methods are recommended as inducive of sleep; but I am not very apt to adopt a common method, if there is any other to be found in the many crannies in my pericranium. Accordingly I hate such methods as the chicking of watches, the dropping of waters, the counting of numbers, and the humming of tunes; I go about the business in this ratiocinative way,-ex. gr., first, I endeavour to find out the cause of my vigil: suppose it is an excitement occasioned by a letter from America, telling me of a father's life or death -the state of a maiden's heart, about whom I am ready to die at a moment's warning; then I say to myself, these awful alternatives cannot be solved to-night, because the moon is unwilling to give her light, they must then be solved to-morrow by the light of the sun; what then shall I do in the mean time?-why, sleep, to be sure. I confess my own plan would not do in this case-sed exceptio firmat regulam-and therefore I must recommend it the more. I still lay awake, with my eyes upon the letter; I turned about, that I might not see it, but it stuck in my mind's eye, like Cupid's arrow, pointed with gold, in the heart of a fortune-hunter. I turned from side to side, lay on my face and back per vices,-drew and undrew my physical blinds; - all would not do. What philosopher is it who says that the imagination is like a dried fish, and shines brightest in the dark? Descartes, I know, found this to be the case, when he shut the windows of his chamber, and said, Aridus piscis lucet ergo est-cogito ergo sum. (He must have been a dry fish.) For my part, my imagination shone to little purpose, for it reflected nothing definite except a white letter; the other lights were an enlightened chaos of all colours, from white to black; loves, and deaths, and joy, and sorrow, and hope, and fear, and vague curiosity. I heard the watchman call Four, and at this moment a very ingenious idea sprung up in my mind:-the watchman, thinks I, has a lantborn: I was up in the twinkling of a miser's eye, dressed in that of a lover's, and down stairs with the letter in my hand, before a jealous husband would have missed his wife in a masquerade. "I will thank you, my dear fellow," says I," to let me read this letter with the light of your lanthorn.” He held it up. Reader, I read these words: MI DEER CHARLS, Mi mistres will be owt on Sabwill see you waking out at the winbath-com exackly at 11 o'clock-i dow among the tres-and give you the sin to come into me, by the holl you no off-Betty goes of poor cratur with her flunkie-mi mistres i giv you a wholl sheet becas you ar says she is diluded or diluted by Jon All that is borned most di. a gentelman, leetel Jeems is ded Yours till deth I cannot give HENRETTI CHARLET. [We are not sure whether the following jeu d'esprit has hitherto appeared in print; but we have no doubt that it will amuse all our legal, and perhaps some of our general readers. It is the production of a distinguished Scotch lawyer.] SPECIMEN OF A TOUR TO THE LAKES, BY ESQ. ADVOCATE. Competition KESWICK . ULLSWATER, 27th August, IN a competition amongst the Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland, after the preferable claim of Winandermere had been sustained, it came to be disputed whether Keswick ought to be ranked secundo loco, or brought in pari passu, with Ullswater. Pleaded for Keswick,-1mo. This piece of water is circular, and retains the form of a lake in every point of view; on the contrary, Ullswater is narrow and winding, and it deceives the spectator by assuming the appearance of a river. Its claim to beauty ought therefore to be repelled, as founded on a simulate right; and although a broad expanse of water is sometimes less interesting than a contracted stream, yet this is not the case where there is evidently a dolus dans causam contractui. Secundo et separatim. From the top of Skiddaw, the first object that arrests the attention is Keswick, with its surrounding vale; but ar restments are preferable, according to their dates. Erskine, B. III, T. 4. $18. 3tio. The islands in this lake are more numerous and varied, and some of them are clothed with fine wood; not a silva cœdua, like that on the island of Ullswater, but grown timber, which could not be cut by a liferenter, even if infeft, cum silvis, though perhaps he might use it to keep the houses in a habitable condition.-8th December, 1737, Ferguson contra Ferguson. Lastly. The distant mountains are more magnificent, and they disclose in the backgrounds more pic turesque and romantic scenery, particularly in the pass of Borrowdale, towards the Blacklead or Wadmines, all of which are to be held part and pertinent of Keswick, according to the maxim, accessorium sequitur principale. In support of this argument, va rious authorities may be referred to. Gray's letter, p. 18., Gilpin's Tour, p. 39; and so it was decided by Mr Adison, organist of Durham, 30th June 1772, who pronounced the following judgment: "This is Beau ty lying in the lap of Horror.". Answered for Ullswater. Imo. Nothing can be more stiff and formal than Keswick, the figure of which is almost an exact circle, while this lake resembles the letter S, and is the true line of beauty. Nor can it be mistaken for a river, because it does not flow, et rivus est locus, quo agua decurrit, 1. 1. § 2. ff de rivis. Besides, in point of size, it equals or exceeds Keswick, and the quantity of water in the one may be set off against that in the other, which it will not be disputed is a compensatio de liquido in liqui dum. 2. As to Keswick's arresting the attention, whoever went to the top of Skiddaw, merely to compare the two lakes, was using nimious dili gence, and, at any rate, it is an argument in apicibus. 3tio. The solitude that reigns alongst the bold and precipitous shore of Ullswater is peculiarly romantic and pleasing; for, amidst a scene of broken banks, there ought always to be sequestration; but the sides of Keswick are covered with houses; and if two lovers had an assignation there, it would soon be intimated all over the country. Indeed, a decent couple cannot take a walk without exciting attention, 1. 1. § 3. ffunde vir et uxor. 4to. As to the islands, Vicar's island spoils the effect of the rest, for it is covered with corn fields, which are extremely out of place there, corn being parsonage, and not. vicarage. Forbes on Teinds, p. 39. Not to mention that its banks are quite deformed by Mr Pocklington's fortifications, l. 1. § 6. de ripa munienda. Lastly. It is impossible to enter Borrowdale with personal security from the suspension of loose rocks, fragments of which are constantly tumbling down; and few travellers have orderly proceeded to the top of it, whatever diligence they may have used. As for the wad mines, they are in lease, and therefore form a proper wadset, which has nothing to do with the lake. It will be observed, with regard to the authorities cited, that the organist Adison was an inferior judge, and not competent to decide the question; and at that time he was in the special service of the Bishop of Durham, and proceeding to Carlisle in a retour. Replied for Keswick,-The fer tility of Vicar's island is in its favour, and the beauty of the scene CHAUCER, AND HIS TESTAMENT OF LOVE. I AM not going to write a life of Chaucer, to analyse his poetry, or fully describe his genius. For this purpose, much greater space would be required than can be allotted to these cursory remarks, on a topic not interesting to us all. And the less speculative portion, at least,' of the task-that relating to the few and uncertain incidents of his life with which we are acquainted, and the antiquarian information derivable from his writings-has been abundantly accomplished by several his torians of English poetry,-by all the editors of his works, and by one well-known author, some sixteen or twenty years ago, in whose voluminous and extraordinary production the poet is entombed beneath an undigested mass of historical research of the most multifarious character. Yet the name only of Chaucer is known to the great majority even of poetical students in this country. His genius is admitted by every one intimate with his works. None can deny his title to be recognised the father of our poetry. But the praise he receives is altogether general; and many, professing to revere him, are ignorant of his innumerable and striking excellencies. Every admirer must wish that his compositions were more generally studied; but, unless he be quite enthusiastic and unreasonable, he will feel the vanity of that desire, by reflecting on the many illustrious individuals who have eulogized their beauty and power, and the little effect these exertions have produced. In truth, the period, not of Chaucer's fame, but of his influence, has long since gone by. He shall always be considered as an old excellent poet-a master in his art, though in times dark and unpolished-the Sir John Chandos of his contemporary bards; but never shall he reign again in the bosoms of living men. It would not be difficult to assign the causes that have diminished or destroyed his popularity. An ancient, and, to many, an obscure dialect,-some rudeness, and other faults more considerable—the faults of his age, from which even his genius could not emancipate him, his indelicacy,-and, in a few instances, the very subjects upon which he wrote, have proved nearly sufficient to counterbalance his exquisite descriptions, flowing from a profound feeling of the softer charms of external nature. But it cannot be that he is regarded with so little interest, that his laurels have faded so completely, as to render any one who writes of him liable to the charge of engrossing himself, and tormenting others, with criticisms on an author who has obtained some reputation indeed, but a reputation better served by keeping its possessor in the back-ground, than by introducing him to public attention. Such an opinion cannot be held, though some are undoubt edly more interested than others in contemplating the works of ancient genius. But advantage will always be derived from the study of the remains of men who have lived for ages; and, notwithstanding the inferiority of our curiosity, the profit is surely greater than what, in most cases, we derive from the perusal of the compositions of a day, though that day be our own. I trust, therefore, I do not approach a totally unattractive subject when I treat of some of the merits of Chaucer's poetry, and of his Testament of Love-by far the best of his prose works. The Testament of Love is an allegorical document, throwing light on a short period of the poet's life, and affording many brilliant exemplifications of the workings of a powerful intellect. The causes which led to its composition sprung from an attachment to the doctrines of Wickliff, and a consequent aversion to the Romish Church. It contains expressions which, though no other proofs had existed, would have evinced an inclination in its author, at one time, to the Wicklevites; while there are indications in it of a change of opinion, or of a temporizing spirit, which lessen our estimation of Chaucer's magnanimity and fortitude. We are concerned, however, with minute circumstances in the lives of men of genius in remote times, chiefly as they are connected with the specimens of their intellectual energy they have bequeathed to posterity. And as the events which induced Chaucer to compose the Testament are allied to the uninstructive story of a city tumult--reflecting little light on those of his habits of which we should be most anxious to be informed, and as the work itself is valuable, principally for the examples it supplies of the reach of his poetical powers, it will be best to interweave, as much as possible, the observations on it, the narrative of facts, and the criticisms on the features of the poet's mind. The doctrines of the reforming sects, in the middle ages, spread gradually throughout Europe; and in England, in the time of Chaucer, from the circumstances of the na tion, the exertions of Wickliff, and the protection given him by the Duke of Lancaster, had been disseminated widely among the people. It has even been said, that onehalf of the nation was infected with the desire of revolution in ecclesiastical government. Chaucer, in one passage, employs language which renders such a statement not at all improbable *. Yet even this circumstance, and the countenance of the Duke of Lancaster, could not screen the Wicklevites at all times from the persecutions of the Clergy. Numbers of the people suspected the Duke of entertaining designs against King Richard, his nephew; and the adherents of the Church were much inflamed against him. Suspicions had gone abroad of his having entertained the new opinions from ambition. But these suspicions do not appear to have been better founded than the assertion of one author of the life of Chaucer, that a similar motive had induced him to extend his patronage to that poet. Yet the two parties-the friends of the Church and its enemies, were so nearly balanced in the capital, that Many instances of this disaffection to the Church of Rome are recorded. Thus in Parl. 50 and 51, Ed. III., petitions were presented against it. Note, Parl. 50, 51, Ed. III. Carte's Hist. Vol. II. p. 536. The same Historian notices that these petitions probably were the occasion of a cession of some claims by the Pope at that time; which is noticed by Rhymer, Vol. VII. pp. 83, 136. But nothing, perhaps, proves more clearly the existence of a reforming spirit than the fact, that an act passed in 1381, 5 Richd. II. against the heretics, had to be surreptitiously obtained, without consent of the Commons (Cotton's Abridgt. p. 285. Hume 3. 55. Coke's Inst. 3. C. 5.) The Commons, on that ground, insisted, in the subsequent Session, on the nullity of the statute. Besides, by that act, banishment was the highest punishment attached to heresy. 4 P VOL. XVIII. the citizens sometimes lent their aid to one party,-sometimes to the other. On one occasion, in the year 1384, their dispositions being favourable, the Reformers, if we may bestow the appellation, exerted themselves successfully to procure the election of Comberton to the mayoralty-a man imbued with the principles of Wickliff. In their intrigues Chaucer was deeply involved, being led into them, as he tells us, through deceit, "by excitation of other manyes opinion," and not considering all the consequences with which success would be attended. The Londoners, whose design "was fully to have apeched the mighty senatours, whiche hadden heavy hertes for the misgovernaunce that they seen," fell in violently with the reforming party. But the triumph of Chaucer and his associates was not of long duration. The partizans of Holy Church were yet too powerful to bear tamely such a defeat-to have an enemy of their creed chief magistrate of the capital. Though Chaucer nowhere exactly informs us, we know it was through the influence of the Clergy that the tumult was excited which called for the Royal interference procured the imprisonment of the Mayor-and compelled the poet and some of his friends to leave the kingdom. He has not entered into minute detail; but he has recorded, in an extremely beautiful and pathetic passage, his own flight and misfortunes, his dangers and exile, in a foreign land. The comparisons, in the Testament of Love, of his poverty with his former wealth, and his somewhat unmanly lamentations on this change of circumstances, are favourable to the supposition that, during this unfortunate crisis, he was deprived of the situation which the Royal bounty had conferred upon him. It is true, that, at other times, he seems disposed to acquiesce in his calamities, recognising the temptations to which, in better days, he had been subject. But he indulges in that sort of reflections, not so much for the sake of betokening content ment, as to contrast them with the base ingratitude he had received from his friends. Indeed his conduct towards them, in their exile, was as honourable to him as their demeanour, after returning to their native country, was disgraceful to them. In Zealand, where they had taken refuge, he defrayed their expenses, and rejected reasonable prospects of pardon, that he might keep his faith to his party. Yet they nevertheless defrauded him; and, after their return, so far from exerting themselves to procure for him forgiveness, actually endeavoured to render his banishment perpetual. But he revisited England, and was imprisoned in the Tower. The requital he had experienced for kindness and friendship misapplied, might be one inducement to disclose, during that imprisonment, the accomplices of his errors, and all the secrets of the party with which he was intrusted. We have not the means of discerning-the notices which he himself conveys are scanty and unsatisfactory-the extent of his weakness, in making these disclosures, or of deciding whether he were not, in a great measure, exculpated by the manner in which he had been treated. It must, however, be confessed, that he justifies himself on different grounds. Feeling and acknowledging his former misconduct, he thought it incumbent on him to retrieve, to the utmost of his power, the injury it had done the State. He therefore made a full confession. This is the substance of his excuse, one, the justice of which can never be admitted, except in a full knowledge of the situation of the informer, and of the purity and patriotism of the motives by which he was actuated. But, after all, firmness is not a characteristic of poets; and it may be, that Chaucer acted then somewhat the same part as Waller, in an after period, though on the event of a less justifiable conspiracy. However this may be, and on such a topic it is needless to indulge in vague conjecture, Chaucer regained his liberty, and incurred universal indignation and contempt: a fact this, forming, in some degree, a presumption against his innocency. Labouring under an oppressive load of contumely, the poet challenged to single combat any one who denied the truth of his evidence. The gauntlet thrown down was not |