was struck by the freedom of my speech, and asked me to explain myself. I said to him, I must have time for a work of this nature, in which I propose to include great things in a small space. On your part, labour to deserve that your name should appear at the head of my book. For this end, it is not enough that you wear a crown and a grand title; your virtues and great actions must place you among the great men whose portraits I have delineated. Live in such a manner, that after reading the lives of your illustrious predecessors, you may feel assured that your own life shall deserve to be read by posterity.' * I should never end if I were to relate to you all the conversations which I held with this Prince. He desired me one day to relate the history of my life to him. I declined to do so at first; but he would take no refusal, and I obeyed him. He heard me with attention, and then asked me what were my projects for the future, and my plaus for the rest of life. I wish to know what is the kind of life that would most decidedly please you? A secluded life,' I replied to him without hesitation. The Emperor differed from me totally as to the benefits of a solitary life. I told him that I had composed a treatise on the subject. I know that,' said the Emperor, with vivacity; and if ever I find your book, I shall throw it into the fire.' 'And,' I replied, I shall take care that it never falls into your hands."' The famed commerce of the Venetian Republic in the time of Petrarch (that of our Edward III.) dwindles into something like insignificance when we peruse the following view of it : "The procurators of the church of St. Mark assigned to Petrarch, for his own residence, a large palace called The Two Towers, formerly belong ing to the family of Molina. The mansion was very lofty, and commanded a prospect of the harbour. Our poet took a great pleasure in this view, and describes it with vivid interest. From this port,' he says, I see vessels departing which are as large as the house I inhabit, and which have masts taller than its towers. These ships resemble a mountain floating on the sea; they go to all parts of the world amidst a thousand dangers; they carry our wines to the English; our honey to the Scythians; our saffron, our oils, and our liner. to the Syrians, Armenians, Persians, and Arabians; and, wonderful to say, convey our wood to the Greeks and Egyptians. From all these countries they bring back in return articles of merchandise, which they diffuse over all Europe. They go even as far as the Tanais. The navigation of our seas does not extend farther north; but when they have arrived there they quit their vessels, and travel on to trade with India and China; and, after passing the Caucasus and the Ganges, they proceed as far as the eastern ocean.' Of the friendships formed by Petrarch, Mr. Campbell remarks "It must be recollected that his friendships lay not among the rich and the powerful; on the contrary, his Socrates, his Lelius, his Simonides, and his Boccaccio, were men as poor as himself. Burns's words will apply to him, that Well he knew the social glow, and softer flame.' * In judging of a human character we must take a broad and collective view of its physiognomy, and not decide minute differences from its general expression. Petrach's moral physiognomy, in the main, was generous and independent. It is unfair, by dwelling on partial exceptions, to convert them into general characteristics. He was not a sycophant to Kings and Emperors. He spoke out his mind distinctly to them; and they put up with freedoms from him which they would not have endured from one another. Nevertheless, as he owns to us himself, he agreed too easily to live at the Court of John Visconti, the would-be tyrant of Italy. John Visconti was a great man, not certainly equal to Napoleon in genius, but still the greatest of his times. Judging by myself, who am no idolator of Bonaparte, I would ask who among us would have grudged a long day's journey during his life to have seen him? Nay, who, on a pressing invitation, would not have stopped some days to share his conversation? Yet we are all pretty well agreed that Napoleon had the fault of caring little for human life when it interfered with his ambition. John Visconti had his virtues as well as the mighty Corsican. He was the Bonaparte of the fourteenth century, and fascinated Petrarch. I have said that our poet's personal character had a general and redeeming vir tue of benevolence. It is too much an error of biographers who wish to be perfectly candid in their estimate of a man, to draw up, as it were, a balancesheet of his good qualities and defects, placing them like so many pounds sterling in a debtor and creditor account, as if the same qualities in every one man had a positive and equal value, with the same qualities in every other man, without relation to the rest of their character. But, in point of fact, the faults and virtues of humanity are not the same in different individuals, but become different according to their mixture and combination. The compassion of a fool may be as essentially compassion as that of a wise man; but it is not the same virtue when compounded with folly, as when it meets and mixes with wisdom. There is a moral chemistry in the combining materials of our spiritual nature which is not to be judged of mechanically, according to the disunited qualities of those materials." Of the far-famed Troubadors, or wandering poets of that age, Petrarch thus somewhat irreverently speaks " They are a class who have little wit, but a great deal of memory, and still more impudence. Having nothing of their own to recite, they snatch at what they can get from others, and go about to the Courts of Princes to declaim verses in the vulgar tongue, which they have got by heart. At these Courts they insinuate themselves into the favour of the great, and get subsistence and presents. They seek their means of livelihood-that is, the verses they recite-among the best authors, from whom they obtain, by dint of solicitation, and even by bribes of money, compositions for their rehearsal. I have often repelled their importunities, but sometimes, touched by their entreaties, I have spent hours in composing productions for them. I have seen them leave me in rags and poverty, and return, some time afterwards, clothed in silks, and with purses well furnished, to thank me for having relieved them." Altogether this life of Petrarch is the best and most complete of any that has yet appeared, and a most valuable addition to every well selected library. SUMMER AND WINTER IN THE PYRENEES.Mrs. Ellis has presented the world with a very agreeable work. Pau appears to have been the centre of this lady's excursions, and she gives us some pleasant historical gossip that serves to while away the time without our perceiving the rapidity of its flight. Pau was formerly the residence and capital city of the kings of Navarre; Gaston Pheebus, whose name and doings are recorded in the pages of Froissart, lived here. Jeanne D'Albret | here renounced the Roman Catholic for the Protestant form of worship, and founded an asylum for the converts to the new faith. Her son, Henry the Fourth, passed his younger days at the chateau of Pau; and lastly, among its great and its celebrated ones, comes Bernadotte, the present King of Sweden, who was born here. Pau has also a modern celebrity to boast of, being the resort of a great number of English dandies, who are reproved almost too gently by Mrs. Ellis for disfiguring their countenances by the cultivation of the moustache. The following is a brief but fine description of the scenery around Pau : "Perhaps one of the most imposing aspects under which the Pyrenees are seen from Pau, is when the state of the atmosphere and the light is such, that we see in, as it were, amongst them, and are able to trace the different valleys by which they are divided, beginning with some of the lower hills which rise from the woody plain on the banks of the Gave, and following them up to their snowy summits, until lost in the distance, or intercepted by some other range. It is then that we are able to form some idea of the real extent and magnitude of these snowy mountains; the eye then wanders on, from one lofty pinnacle to another, tracing out the blue and silvery outline of the sublimest heights; or, returning by some lower chain, it takes a downward course, and penetrates into those deep, mysterious hollows, where the purple shadows fall obliquely, so that here and there a bold and broken rock stands forth and catches a sort of golden light. It is scarcely possible, however, where the sunshine is so brilliant, and the atmosphere so clear as in the climate of the Pyrenees, to say under what aspect they are the most beautiful; nor have we ever been able to decide whether they appear to the greatest advantage in the morning or the evening, for at mid-day there is, in the brightest weather, a sort of silvery haze which always renders them more or less obscure. Perhaps the appearance they present in the morning is the most brilliant; but the evening is the time when associations are the strong; est, and consequently there is more to think of and to feel, if not actually to admire, in connexion with their grandeur and beauty, at the close, than at the commencement of the day." Her account of her excursion to the Lac Bleu is well written, and highly interesting: she travels through the valley of L'Esponne. "The valley, as we advanced, became wider, the cottages less frequent, and cultivation more sparing, though the same beautiful stream still flowed beside our path. It seemed as if we were drawing near the end of the world-all was so still, and so shut in from human fellowship. At last no houses were to be seen, only those huts or kraals built half in the ground, with low sloping roofs, for the shelter of the cattle-but still the same stream, and a noble amphitheatre of mountains, among which we could not discover the least appearance of a passage. Our guide, however, conducted us across the stream, when we all rested on the green bank at the foot of a dark beech wood, through which we had to pass, and thus to make our way into another opening amongst the bills. The party persisted in mounting again, and trying the skill of their horses in threading the mazes of this thicket, which grew amongst large masses of slippery rock; but the ascent soon becoming alarmingly steep, and the rocks more pre cipitous, we thought it best to abandon our horses, and proceed the rest of the way on foot. "For some time after this our path was very pleasant. We entered upon a wide, hollow valley, strewn with rocks which had fallen from the sur rounding heights. The sun was shining without a cloud, though not without some of those insidious mists which already began to creep after us along the sides of the hills; but thus far they only seemed to add to the height and the sublimity of the craggy peaks above. Within the silent valley along which we trod, it seemed as if no human foot had ever been before; yet even here was a single shepherd's hut, most bleak and solitary, for there was no tree in this vast wilderness, only shrouds of rhododendron and beautiful wild flowers. "On our left there rose almost precipitously from the plain, and towering at a far height into the sky, vast ranges of those rocky piles so frequent in the Pyrenees, and which constitute perhaps the most striking feature in their scenery. They consist of abrupt and broken crags, towering up in peaky summits, often so cleft and shattered as to leave narrow gullies or ravines of enormous depth between them. They are composed of slaty rock and marble, sometimes of the richest purple, tinged with streaks of red and yellow. The most beautiful aspect they present is when the brilliant sun-light gleams in and amongst them, as it did this day, glowing through their peaks and pillars, down the sides of the mountain, where the grass lay, even at that far height, like the richest velvet, where dark pines were growing, and where flocks of sheep and goats were browsing in peace, looking rather as if suspended against the side, than resting on the mountain. "To the right of the valley were the same lofty peaks, with a less precipitous ascent extending to them, yet still so steep and rugged as to look, to my inexperienced eye, almost as inaccessible as the moon; and before a little to the right, the view was bounded by a torrent, which fell from an amazing height, and dashed its way through the hollow or basin below, down to the valley of Lesponne. us, "Immediately to the left of this cascade, the scene was lost in vapour; and for some time I was too much occupied to look up, with a violent throbbing in my head and temples, which on such occasions, while exposed to the blazing sunshine, was often very troublesome: when suddenly a shout from my companions aroused my attention, and I looked, and the mist had disappeared; and a mountain, the most sublime I ever beheld or imagined, appeared before us, apparently bending over our heads. It was probably the blending of the mist and the sunshine, which increased the extraordinary effect produced; for it appeared to be close upon us, yet reaching to the sky; and so clear and vivid was the blaze of light which fell upon its almost perpendicular surface, that every rock and cave, with all the blue slate and yellow marble, and green herbage on its vast extent of surface, looked as distinct as if reflected in a glass held up immediately before our eyes. "It was now time to commence our ascent to the right, and well it was that we all scrambled on in perfect ignorance of the distance or the difficulties of our way. All our past fatigues amongst the mountains had been mere pastime compared with this. I thought more than once, that I should have been obliged to give the matter up, and remain amongst the rhododendrons and coarse slippery grass; and had it not appeared still more difficult to get down again than to get up, I might never have seen the Lac Bleu. The ascent was so steep, the grass so slippery, and the stones so loose and de ceitful, that my only chance of safety seemed to be when I found the bed of some torrent, where the rocks were too large to give way. "In this manner we toiled on until four hours had elapsed from the time of leaving our horses; when joyful shouts from the foremost of our party, announced that they had reached the lake; and, encouraged by their success, we soon found ourselves upon its banks. It is a basin, or tarn, in a hollow at the top of a mountain, and surrounded by bare craggy peaks of the most curious formation, within whose declivities the snow always remains. The lake itself is an oval about two miles in length. It is a solitary spot, with no house or tree, or living thing to be seen in its vicinity, a stillness almost death-like reigning around. It might be dreary, but for the rich warm colouring of the rocks, the depth and stillness of the water, and its intense blue, from whence it takes its name. The surface is like an emerald sea; and there is neither ripple nor oar, nor shelving shore where boat could be stranded, except in one particular spot, where we seated ourselves, and where the torrent which had formed a sort of landmark to us through the valley, pours down from the lake. "I never can forget the strangeness and the stillness of this place. We had time to give one delighted survey of its beauties, and only one; when a thin misty cloud, which had pursued us up the mountain, overspread the whole; and though it sometimes passed for a moment, so that we could distinctly see a part, it grew thicker and thicker, until we lost all the grand outlines of the scene. Some of our party succeeded in reaching a point from whence another lake can be seen, as well as this, called the Green Lake; but this can only be in fine weather. On the day of our luckless exploit, we could see nothing but each other, and that rather indistinctly." In closing our remarks of this very interesting work, we most seriously recommend it to the perusal of our readers. writes in a true Christian spirit, the doctrines that a Christian pastor ought to inculcate. He does but would make people happy as well as good by not desire to invest religion with a mantle of gloom, amusing the mind. We would most strongly recommend this very sensible work to all our readers. THE PRIEST OF THE NILE. By Mrs. C. Tinsley.-The authoress of this work is certainly a clever, deeply-read lady; but as a novelist she retrogrades, and carries us back not only to the sixtieth year of the reign of Rameses, but to the style of the ouce celebrated Minerva press, of some few years' later date. The reign of the marvellous is over, and we now prefer the rational to the improbable. If Mrs. Tinsley continue to write, we would advise her to choose subjects that are better and more generally understood; and we beg at the same time to state, that in our disapprobation of the entire work, we give her due credit for her style of writing, and acknowledge that she has talent. DISCOVERIES IN LYCIA. By C. Fellows.-To classical readers this work will afford a great treat, but to the world in general it will not prove so interesting. The antiquity and civilization of Lycia, and also its political power, are alluded to in Homer, and Mr. Fellows has thrown a ray of brightness upon the remnants of antiquity that still remain in the country. Of the tombs sculptured in the rocks near Magri, he speaks highly, and describes their architectural detail as being similar to the style that was the fashion in this country in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. The scenery in and about Lycia is sublime and beautiful; mountains broken into sections, with peaks many thousand feet high, torrents of water dashing through the ravines, forests of pines, and snow-topped hills contrasting with the clear, deep blue cloudless sky, must indeed be magnificent. It is a work full of valuable information. · AMERICA; HISTORICAL, STATISTICAL, AND DESCRIPTIVE. By S. Buckingham, Esq.-That there is nothing new under the sun, this work by Mr. In these volumes Miss Catharine Taylor has colLETTERS FROM ITALY TO A YOUNGER SISTER.— Buckingham affords ample proof; but by reading lected considerable pleasing information, without and revising, condensing, amplifying, and add-giving us any thing like novelty. We were much ing thereunto his own actual observations, he has amused at the following description of the thriftiproduced a very valuable standard work. The boasted universal independence of the Americans Marie delle Grazie :ness of the priests attached to the church of Santa would seem to be a theory, as yet untried in practice; for at Washington, the head quarters of all the states, the coloured portion of the population are not even admitted to sit in the same part of a theatre as the whites. So high was the spirit of blanc et noir, that many of the aristocrats of New York were prevented from attending Mr. Buckingham's lectures, because coloured persons were admitted. This is a sad exposé of the principles of the land of liberty, and from Mr. Buckingham, too, is the unkindest cut of all! The work is instructive, and well worth reading, although rather dry in some of its sections. THE EXPEDIENCY OF PREACHING AGAINST THE AMUSEMENTS OF THE WORLD.-This publication, by the Rev. H. Woodward, deserves well of the public. Like Fenelon, he would have all classes of society enjoy themselves. He would not deny the dance to the young, the play to the middle aged, nor a sober game of whist to the aged; and is the famous fresco of the Last Supper, (il cenacolo) One little angel, projecting from the wall, was overwhelmed with the weight of gowns, petticoats, coats, and trousers; and on a long rines, belts and buckles, gloves, ribbons, cravats, row of pegs, I saw handsome lace and muslin pelestockings, &c. When I asked of what use these time they are sold, and the money is applied to the were to the Madonna, I was told that from time to purchase of oil for the lamps suspended before the picture." This is laudable economy truly. These volumes will be very useful to the youthful class of readers, for whose instruction they were written. of flowers and sweet herbs in the corner of his garden, and led us even to his bed, spread upon a mat on the floor, which partook of much of the slovenliness and dirt of its owner. Within arm's reach of the pillow was the plainest, and, indeed, the only proof of our Friar's lingering attachment to the Church, in the mouth of a London porter bottle, wherein was stuck, until by constant guttering it had glued and buttressed itself to the neck, a stout fragment of one of the solid wax tapers from a neigh A MANUAL OF THE HISTORY OF THE MIDDLE AGES.-This is a very good compendium of that period, commencing at the fall of the Roman Empire and concluding with the Pontificate of the far-famed Leo the Tenth. This work will be found an excellent assistant to history; and those who are going through a course of historical read-bouring altar." ing will find it a useful companion. 'Priests, in scanty black petticoats, with pea green umbrellas and three-cornered hats; scarlet capped boatmen, ragged beggars, clamorous fruitsellers, and noisy water-carriers; a shabby carriage coeval with the islands, a showy horse and showy rider with moustachios and brass spurs; English captains, in new tailed coats; a British tar buying oranges and stumbling over hogs; hogs in great force, larger, longer-legged, and more wiry-haired beasts than with us; asses in abundance, carrying men, and women, and children, and every other kind of burden; hogsheads, deal planks, boxes, panniers filled with stone, manure, and vegetables; countrymen with their horned caps, nondescripts in bad hats and boots, and large cloth cloaks, fitted for a cold climate; women in dark blue cloaks, with boods entirely concealing the face, slowly, stiffly, and sedately moving along" Des manteaux qui marchent voila tout," now and then, though rarely, the modern innovation of a lady shawled, and bonneted, and parasoled, like our own countrywomen, arm-in arm with her husband." In another portion of the work we meet with the following description of a Friar: "In our walk, yesterday, we were accosted by a slip-shod Friar. His dress did not indicate his order. He wore a dingy linen jacket, reddish brown fustian trousers, the extremities of which were tucked into the tops of old Wellington boots, with a hat of high antiquity, now napless and rusty; and his mouldy-looking beard, joined with a moist oystery eye and a nose of intemperate tendency to red, called to mind the Spanish proverb, that "There's many an old cloak that covers a good drinker." In bis sitting-room were a few books-a well-used Breviary, in four volumes; one or two Latin prayer-books, an almanack, and a Portuguese work on Christian morals. On some of the volumes was an ancient crop of green mould, that had flourished for a length of time in perfect peace. A snuff-coloured cloak hung in flabby folds, from the same peg with his hat and pea-green umbrella; and below it a gallon flask of wine stood on the floor, with a goodly tumbler to drink it from. It had been made by his own hand from the grapes raised in his own garden, and was the best island wine I had tasted in St. Michael's. He frothed it out from the flagon with a liberal hand, and with the expression of one who loved good wine,-"Comme fait tout homme de bien." He showed us everything in his house, from his bacon and wine-casks to the plot The piety of another priest partakes of the ludicrous: "We found him (the Priest) kneeling at bis evening prayers. The sun was going down in amber light behind the dusky island of Flores, and shone directly upon the grave old man. He noticed us as we came to the door, by a slight motion of the head and hand; stopped for one moment to point to a chair, and then went on with his prayers in a low tone of voice, and with much cheerfulness of mandow, to whom he gave some order, and then conner. Before he had finished a boy passed the win tinued his devotions; until at last he came to the close, shut the book, and turned round to welcome us." In the Azores it would appear funerals are conducted somewhat indecently according to our own received opinions :-- "Four priests, with tufted cylindrical caps of black silk, in addition to a dress like the servitors', marched in file on each side of the street, chanting in hoarse sounds the service for the dead; and behind them, in the centre of the road, the bearers swayed from side to side under the weight of the corpse. The priests clatted, took snuff, and blew their noses, with the natural unconcern of undertakers; the bearers talked loudly and asthmatically to one another, under the pressure of the heavy bier; children ran among the priests and bearers blowing reed-pipes and screaming; and a laden ass trotted through the procession without hinderance or observation. There were no mourners; neither was there composure, nor quiet, nor the hush of decency, nor even the outward show of grief; no single object, in fact, but the white hands of the corpse, to remind you of the dead. The only solemn figure in the procession was a white-headed and bare-footed old man, much bent with years, who followed close behind the corpse, carrying his well-worn crucifix and beads, and who seemed as if he might have attended there rather to mourn his own near approach to the grave than the death of another man.' The power of the priesthood over the people is thus stated:: "An anchor belonging to a wrecked vessel had been missing. No one, of course, knew anything about it; and, after every search had in vain been made for it, application was then made to the Priest. On the following Sunday, after mass bad been said, be bade his congregation stop, as he had something serious to say to them; and, turning round from the altar to the people, he concluded some such words as these, with the following strong metaphor :-'I have heard,' said he, with much sorrow, that an anchor, from the vessel that was wrecked upon our coast, has been stolen from the shore by some of my parishioners. I am informed that search has everywhere been made for that anchor, and that hitherto it has not been found. There are, among the people who now hear me, those who well knew both the persons who have stolen it, and the place where this anchor is concealed. I do not wish them to come forward now and openly confess their guilt; for that there is no necessity; but I charg them, by the holy office which I bold, to return that anchor to the place from which it has been taken before seven days have gone by; and I here announce to those deluded men who shall persevere in obstinate disobedience to my commands, that, in the last great day, that anchor shall drag down their souls deeper and still deeper into hell." The next morning it was returned." Works like this will always be read with interest, and the authors deserve praise for the pleasant manner in which they have communicated their observations. A VISION OF PENGWERNE, AND OTHER POEMS, Though he slumbers within the cold ground, And the warrior shall weep e'er his grave; His name more to pleasure shall call, By those whom the young hero loved, And the willow cast forth her dim shade, Where remembrance her haunt now has made, May the torques' that he won long remain, Emblazoning the archives of fame, And the rowels he wore on the plain, With the trophies that crown'd when he came Then, fill up the 'herlas' again, Let the sparkling metheglin pass round; For sweet is the young hero's rest, Though he slumbers within the cold ground, We perfectly agree in the opinion of the writer, as * Vol. I. Shrewsbury. Published for the author. the sapient judge elected by the committee, declared none were worthy of so valuable a badge of honour as a silver-gilt medal, value thirty shillings. However bad, one should have been selected for the prize. What became of the medal was never known. Probably Mr. Southey's grandchildren had it for a plaything. TEXAS. By William Kennedy.-We are inclined to think that Mr. Kennedy saw Texas through a pair of couleur de rose spectacles. He makes it a perfect Paradise; but somehow or other, these Elysiums, so beautiful in description, are generally very different on inspection. We do not, however, think Mr. Kennedy is inclined to misrepresent things; but his opinion of Texas is more favourable than our own. He is sometimes tedious, but generally pleasing in his descriptions. ELEVEN CHAPTERS ON NERVOUS AND MENTAL COMPLAINTS, AND ON TWO GREAT DISCOVERIES, &c. By William Willis Mosely, A.M., L.L.D., &c., &c. Third Edition.-The author of this work, originally a clergyman, having devoted his attention to medical science, has at length employed his time exclusively in the practice of it, especially in the cure of mental diseases. The numerous cases he cites seem to attest the efficacy of his plans. The connexion between physics and metaphysics, which forms the basis of the subject, but of which so little is known, has some small degree of light thrown upon it in the book, but more from examples of successful treatment than from elucidation of principle. ENGLISH MELODIES, AND OTHER POEMS; by Thomas John Ouseley.* This is a very elegantly got-up volume, and contains some very sweet poems, many of them of a local interest to the natives of Shropshire. It is dedicated by the author to his father, Major-General Sir Ralph Ouseley. Where all are pleasing, we have a difficulty in selecting; so we take a specimen from the first page at which we have opened the volume-and quote the following. "The blush on thy cheek the young heart has betrayed, Though thy lips may not whisper the innocent shame; And that life-breathing smile, like life creeping o'er shade, Is a halo of glory round passion's pure flame; Whilst thine eyes-twin spring violets-floating in dew, Betoken that sorrow hath home in thy breast; Yet the sun-setting clouds are the brightest to view, Though tinctured by twilight, as day sinks to rest. Check not those fond tears;-they may dim for awhile descries; The soul-stirring lustre that beams in thine eyes; 1 Vol. Bentley. |