become more and more painful, fhe tore herfelf from the pot which had fo forcibly prefented them, Fanchette ftill following her, and importuning to be fed. She walked flowly towards the park gate, and faw Cathcart, who began to be uneafy at her ftay, coming to meet her. He understood the nature of her fenfations too well to make any inquiries: but offering her his arm, in filence led her towards the chaife. Before the afcended the fteps of the ftile, fhe turned once more to look at the horfe; kiffed the fenfible animal as it licked her hands; and pronouncing a half flified and tremulou's adieu! Fanchette! fhe got as haftily as fhe could into the chaife, and defired Cathcart to order the poftilion on quickly.

Celeftina, as her thoughts went back to paft pleasures, and as her heart felt all the bitterness of difappointed hope, indulged herfelf without reftraint in the fad luxury of forrow.Tears fell flowly down her cheeks, while diftreffing images prefented themfelves to her fancy; and infenfibly the tender adieu fhe had taken of the place, the tender wishes the had formed for the lamented friend and lover to whom it belonged, arranged themselves into verfe, and produced the following

'SONNET.

Farewel ye lawns! by fond remembrance bleft,
As witneffes of gay unclouded hours,

Where to maternal friendship's bofom prefs'd,
My happy childhood pafs'd amid your bow'rs.
Ye wood-walks wild! where leaves and fairy flow'rs
By Spring's luxuriant hand are trewn anew;
Rocks, whence with fhadowy grace rude nature lours
O'er glens and haunted ftreams!-a long adieu!
-And you!-oh! promis'd Happiness! whofe voice
Deluded fancy heard in every grove,

Bidding this tender trufting heart rejoice
In the bright profpect of unfailing love:
Tho' loft to me-ftill may thy fmile ferene

Blefs the dear Lord of this regretted fcene.'

This extract, added to the accounts which we have given of her former works, will give the reader no unfavourable idea of Mrs. Smith's talents, both for profe compofition, and for poetry.

ART. XII. A Critical Analyfis and Review of all Mr. Voltaire's Works; with occafional Difquifitions on Epic Poetry, the Drama, Romance, &c. By Mr. Linguet. Tranflated from the French by James Boardman. 8vo. pp. 269. 4s. Boards. Johnson. 1790. o review the works of fo voluminous and various a writer as Voltaire, is a vast undertaking. To review his reviewer, with a diftinct inquiry into the ground of his canons. of criticism, and into the propriety of his various strictures, would be a work fcarcely lefs laborious. As it lies far beyond the limits of a mifcellaneous journal, we muft fatisfy ourselves with reporting to our readers the contents of this volume.

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M. Lin

M. Linguet, after a few flight obfervations on the life and character of Voltaire, proceeds to examine, first his poetical, and then his profe writings.

As an epic poet, the critic is difpofed to allow Voltaire a very small share of merit. Comparing the Henriade with the Iliad, the Æneid, the Jerufalem Delivered, and the Orlando, he concludes it to be, in many refpects, inferior to each of them. He complains of the inaction, and of the confequent coldness, which prevail through this poem: It abounds (fays be,) with beautiful defcriptions, but has hardly a fingle animated Being: they are highly-finished medallions, adapted to the decoration of a gallery; not living characters, crowding into it.' In fhort, all the merit which he allows to this poem, is that of containing many very fine verfes, and fome portraits, admirably drawn; collecting, in the text, and in the notes annexed to it, the principal events of an epocha ever memorable to the French nation, and furnishing, to thofe among them who have the charge of educating youth, fome details, which they may compare in their language with the fine defcriptions taken from the poets of antiquity.

In the drama, M. Linguet gives Voltaire higher praife, but pronounces him inferior to Racine in the juff, delicate, and pathetic developement of the human heart; and to Corneille in force of genius, in depth of thought, and in fubtlety of difcrimination. His chief excellencies he judges to be, abundance and variety of character, and a kind of philofophy at once dignified and pathetic. He applauds his tafte, in excluding from his tragedies all abfolutely deteftable characters. On this point, M. Linguet remarks as follows:

This is a point on which I prefume to think almost all our authors have been mistaken, who have difplayed their talents in this fpecies of compofition. It is neceffary, fay they, to avail ourfelves of the feelings of the audience: but at the fame time they have forgotten that there fhould be a proportion between the fhock, and the organs which are to fuftain it.

In common life, in spite of our invincible propensity to intereft ourfelves in favor of every being who feems to fuffer, if his cries are continual, if they degenerate into fereams, if his wounds are hideous and openly difplayed, we are prefently impressed with horror, rather than pity. We fly from a fpectacle which operates as a punishment, and become indifferent from excefs of fenfibility; it is the string of the violin which lofes its sweetness from being too much stretched.

This principle is univerfally true, equally on the theatre as elsewhere. There the organs fhould not be wounded, from a too great defire of affecting them; which must happen, even in comedy, when the humour is too grofs, or the vices too odious; and

in tragedy, when the misfortunes, and, for a stronger reason, when the guilt of the heroes, is extended to a degree of atrociousness.

Has not Moliere fomewhat violated this fitnefs in his Tartuffe? This piece poffeffes fome moft excellent strokes of humor, and fome mafterly traits of character: but the outlines of the picture appear to me neither juft nor pleafing: his impoftor is at the fame time too bafe, too knavish, and too grofs; the real Tartuffes would be much lefs to be dreaded, if they were not more skilful: thofe among them who are capable of equal guilt, use very different means to conceal it.

1

Further, an abuse of religion, pushed to fuch an excess, becomes more properly an object of juftice than comedy. We do not laugh at a fcene of horror; and the character of the Tartuffe is fo criminal, that the poet had no way left of difpofing of him but by fending him to prifon, by an immediate and irregular act of power, by a lettre de cachet, which affuredly is neither inftructive nor hu

morous.

The rule is the fame, and even fill more effential to tragedy. Its object is to imprefs and affect the heart: true, but in order that the tears may be gentle, it must be gentle fenfations that produce them, not painful ones, which force them from us.

Even in catastrophes, which the audience has forefeen, thofe which they appear to have fought, but, in order to partake as it were, in the horror attending them, fuch as public executions, (thefe, as we know, are tragedies of the vulgar) in those scenes of terror to which the fpectators are attracted by the hope and the expectation of being affected, the fentiment mult proceed from one of thefe two fources; either the guilt is of fuch a nature as abfolutely to extinguish all compaffion, in which cafe the fufferings of the victims excite no pity, or their remorse, when compared with their crimes, obtain their pardon; the audience then becomes interested in their fate, and every fpectator awaits the fatal moment with painful anxiety.

Both reason and experience then feem to concur, in admonishing the poet not to carry the theatrical emotion to that excess by which it becomes annihilated, or changed into fixed grief; which, I repeat, can never fail to happen, when the characters are too criminal, or too unfortunate.'

In the comedies of Voltaire, M. Linguet finds little wit or pleasantry; and he condemns the ftale pedantry, the grofs equivoques, and the contemptible ribaldry, which the poet admits into thofe pieces in which he profeffes to introduce humorous characters.

Voltaire's tales, epiftles, fatires, and treatifes in verfe, have obtained this critic's warm admiration. In these cafual fallies of genius, he is of opinion, that the name of the author will ever be ranked among the most celebrated, and will often be regarded as the firft. In these pieces he continually prefents us with ingenious fimilies and allufions at once poignant and inftructive: we discover in them the delicacy and lightness of

X 3

the

the man of the world, united with the dignity and ease of the philofopher.'

M. Linguet opens his critique on the profe works of Voltaire with this general encomium:

This is the field in which Mr. Voltaire might be truly faid to triumph; at least, the applaufe he gains or forces from his readers, when addreffing them in a language divefted of the pomp, the pretenfions, we may even fay the embarraffiments of poetry, is then much less liable to exception. A purity of elocution, a juftness of epithet, a profufion of ideas, perfpicuity and energy of expreffion, neatness of style, and harmony of period, gaiety, dignity, all are here found, united with an eafe, a facility, and an art of familiarizing every fubject, in a manner before him unparalleled.'

Thofe departments of profe-writing, which depend on ima, gination, Voltaire is allowed by his critic to have traverfed with great fuccefs: but he refts his fame chiefly on his historical works. His Charles XII. is written with wifdom, dignity, and elegance; and his Age of Louis XIV. places him fuperior to all hiftorians modern or ancient.'

Voltaire's writings on the fubject of religion are, in M. Linguet's judgment, highly cenfurable, on account of their immoral tendency. He acknowleges, indeed, that, in the character of a philofopher, Voltaire has been a great benefactor to mankind.

Being of all men who have written, the most univerfally read, who even to the highest point of perfection poffeffed the art of expreffing his ideas with perfpicuity, and of infinuating them with art, he has made an infinite number of profelytes, and he ought to have his due tribute of thanks, when his notions have been found to conduce to the public welfare and the general benefit of fociety. Of thefe he poffeffes many, on literature, education, government, legiflation, and even on jurisprudence.

< Though he did not immediately work a reformation, because he did not poffefs the requifite power, he kindled that general fpirit, which in time produces it, and therein effected a real change. Manners are become more polished, if not more pure, and the eyes of men are more open to what may do them harm. Decrees, which thirty years earlier would not have excited the leaft alarm, have been annulled by the voice of the people, which has compelled their governors to yield to the claims of reafon and juftice. Debates, partly political and partly religious, which at the commencement of the prefent century, and perhaps ftill later, would have led to violence and perfecution, have excited no intereft whatever. The general indifference has rendered them lefs acute, and their effects lefs tedious and mischievous; and perhaps,. in the end, may in time wholly prevent them, and thus fpare our children from a fcourge which has afflicted and difgraced their ancestors.

Justice obliges us to acknowledge, that it is in a great measure to Mr. Voltaire we are indebted for thefe benefits. So far he is

entitled

entitled to claim the gratitude of his contemporaries and of pofterity. I will even go further-had he confined himfelf, in treating on religion, to fhew how far, under pretence of enforcing its privileges, the fpirit of its founder has been departed from-to what a degree paffion has fometimes prevailed over morality-if, in a mafterly defcription of the crimes produced by fanaticifm, the fcandals of fuperftition, the mean nefs of avarice-veiled under a venerable form, addreffing mankind he had faid, "Thefe horrors are no lefs oppofite to true religion than to reafon ;" an idea fo well expreffed in Alzira,

"Our God is their's, my fon, but they infult him."

If even he had fometimes embellifhed thefe ferious truths by the graces of his ftyle, and made ufe of his powers of ridicule to expofe the oppofite errors, he had ftill merited the title of a benefactor of mankind,'

Thus much the author concedes in favour of Voltaire's phi lofophy: but he condemns his numerous and violent attacks on Revelation, as injudicious and cruel attempts to deprive the world of a fyftem the beft calculated to encourage the weak, to confole the wretched, to curb the wicked, and to ferve as a fign of union to all men.' If we agree with the critic in this cenfure, it must be on ground very different from that which he has chofen. He leaves to divines the care of juftifying the Revelation, and of eftablishing its truth; and he grants that when all men are become Philofophers and Deifts, it will no longer be neceffary for them to be Chriftians:' but, in the mean time, he thinks Chriftianity neceflary as the cement of fociety. His advice to kings is, Suffer not the principles of your faith to be difcuffed; they are fixed: permit them not to be defended any more than attacked.' He even afferts, that toleration ought not to extend fo far as to permit any one to endeavour at deftroying or altering the public faith *. What is all this, but afferting, in other words, that the established belief is, at all events, to be maintained, whether it be true or falfe? For our part, convinced as we are that error must always be injurious to mankind, we difclaim all alliance with that oppreffive and abfurd fyftem of policy, which would lay violent reftraints on freedom of research, and which attempts to govern men by deception and impofture; and we profefs ourfelves friends of Christianity, only on the supposition of its truth.

* The author, we fuppofe, would not have written in this reptile strain in a Proteftant country. Such fentiments feem only calculated for thofe climates, in which the religion is just what the Pontiff or the Mufti have prefcribed.