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vindicating herself, promises to be close a resemblance to each other, had faithful.
they both been originals. Here is in fact a strong resemblance ci Entens ma voix gémissante, to the scene where Polonius, behind the Habitant de ces vallons ! arras, falls by Hamlet's sword, and the Guide me marche tremblante queen meets the taunts and upbraidings Qui se perd dans les buissons : of her son. Indeed'certain parts of the N'est il pas quelque chaumière, language have a resemblance.
Dans le fond de ce reduit; “Approach me not with thine adulterous Où je vois une lumière,
Perce l'ombre de la nuit. For very shame bend down the eyes that “ L'amour est plus vain encore, fired
C'est un eclât emprunté ; The accursed Noron's lust_lascivious Un nom faux dont se décore
L'ambitieuse beauté :
On ne voit l'amour fidelle
S'il daigne quitter les cieux : “O shame! where is thy blush? Re- Qu'en aide de la tourterelle, bellious heat,
Qu'il echauffe de ses focux. If thou can’st mutiny in a matron's
Angeline est dans l'ivresse,
Sa transport coupe sa voix :
Est ce toi que je revois ?
Vivons, mourons, l'un pour l'autre, “ For heaven's sake, cease! ah, what I Il ne faut plus nous quitter; must not hear ?
Qu'un seul trépas soit le notre,
Qu'aurons nous à rejetter !"
But the enticing cup of plagiarism, of “ Hamlet ! speak no more,
which the Muses have often deeply Thou turn'st my eyes into my very drank till they became quite maudlin, soul."
wanted yet its last drops to be filled to The catastrophe of this Dutch piece is the brim, which were poured into it by certainly different from that of Hamlet. William Dimond, Esq., when he brought Torquatus triumphs by means of Juliana, out a play entitled “The Royal Oak,” who being dishonoured by Noron, like to which
was unblushingly Lucretia, destroys herself. Still these affixed. We believe it is far from being two tragedies have a wonderful simi. generally known that this piece is almost, larity; but as Shakspeare died ten if not altogether, an exact copy, verbatim years before Brandt was born, our im- literatim et punctuatim, of a play in mortal bard must be exonerated from five acts, called “Charles the Second.” all charge of plagiarism; and what It is to be found in a work of two vorenders this more surprising is, that lumes, entitled “ Friend of Youth,” by according to Van Kamper, who is a Berquin, published at Edinburgh in judge in this matter, the works of 1788. Shakspeare were not known on the But to return to Lord Byron.-It is Continent till long after Brandt wrote our opinion, notwithstanding his talent, the tragedy of Torquatus ; for it appears which was indeed of the highest order, that even Huygens, who understood that had he been a poor obscure comand translated several English poets of moner, his works would never have mediocrity, does not even name the obtained that celebrity which they have matchless author of Hamlet.
enjoyed during his lifetime; that, conAn equally astonishing coincidence of sequently, he never would have written thought might be found in Goldsmith's half those productions with which he “Edwin and Angelina,” and the ballad has deluged the world, or received from of “ Raimond and Angeline,” could it them the hundredth part of those vast be believed that he had never seen the sums paid by his publisher; nor then old, and now scarce, French novel, bear- would the public have shown that folly, ing the title of “ Les deux Habitans de ignorance, and weakness in lauding to Lozanne,” in which that ballad is to be the very heavens on the one hand, and found. We can only find room for three condemning to eternal destruction on or four stanzas, which will be sufficient, the other, those strangely-mingled effuwe imagine, to prove that these pieces sions of his prolific muse. It is not could not by any chance have borne so censure and condemnation loud and vo
ciferous, but silence and neglect, that now grossly reviled him, and heaped sink an author's works into oblivion. execrations on his head when laid low in Those reviewers, therefore, who were the dust. Alas! his vast remains most hostile to his sentiments and per- wherein the purest gold will ever shine verted genius, by continually attempting refulgent amid the rubbish of corroding to decry and degravate him with reiter- iron and vile clay-lie extended on the ated obloquy, only became the ministers flowery plains of poetry and romance, to his lofty pride, filling with augmented a colossëan monument of wonder and blasts the trumpet of his immortal fame. disgust-of admiration and contempt !
The fact is, that a great portion of And that proud monument shall exist the reading world, seldom judging for when the stupendous fragments of giganitself, but pinning its faith on the pro- tic Thebes have crumbled into dust,fessional critic's sleeve, to use a simple when the last column of the Acropolis, but expressive metaphor, in all matters that long shall echo to the Grecian lyre that appertain to literature, set up a with his praise, lies broken on the gigantic idol of gold, and iron, and clay, ground, and overgrown with moss; and to be worshipped with reverence and the pyramids themselves are a desolate admiration on the flowery plains of Par- and hideous wreck, while the pilgrim
It was universally believed bard of ages and climes remote, shall that this lofty and magnificent image was visit his remains with a purer veneration, animated and inspired with immortal and a nobler respect, than the most fire, brought by Apollo from Heaven; zealous worshipper possessed who bowed and his worshippers were ready to cast before the shrine of this British Apollo any one into the midst of a burning fur- when he proudly stood on high in the nace, heated seven times, who would not splendour of his exaltation, in the glory fall down at the sound of their fame- of his early renown! spreading sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and harp, and pay implicit homage and Rogvald Cottage, adoration to the idol which they had April 20, 1836.
J. F. PENNIE.
But it came to pass, when a certain QUEEN MARY'S (of scots) PORTRAIT. period had elapsed, that the fire which The picture in posession of the Hamilton animated this god of poesy was disco- family is perhaps the only original now vered to be fearfully mingled with those extant, of Mary when she was the wife lurid flames that issue from beneath the of Francis the Second. It is finely Satanic throne, * in the dismal halls of painted, but seems never to have been eternal darkness. And it was also per. retouched, and had been set with diaceived that certain bards who, refusing monds when presented to the duke of to fall down and offer incense, were cast Chatelerault. into the seven-times heated furnace of The idea of the head is so different from malignant satire, which was kept burning that called Queen Mary at Chiswick, before the image by pride and revenge that it renders the genuineness of the -into which flattery Aung the richest latter very questionable; though some perfumes and spices, gathered in the pictures of the same princess during her Aonian groves, that these bards came imprisonment in England, after she forth unhurt from the devouring flames, turned fat and unwieldy, and her eyes like the three Hebrews of old, and shone sunk, are undoubted originals. As to with increasing lustre in the day of their the head in black velvet tipped with
ermine, the real story of it is as follows. At length the fire which animated A life of Mary being to be published in the idol became extinguished, and ex- French, the author applied to a Scotchpired in thick smoke amid the tempest gentleman at Paris (the Chevalier Ramwhich the insulted genii of Christianity say we believe), to write to Scotland for awoke. The giant deity was hurled a drawing of Queen Mary. None of from its lofty pedestal—it fell—and was the Duke of Hamilton's family being on shivered into fragments, while far and the spot, the ḥousekeeper did not think wide its worshippers were scattered by he was at liberty to suffer the picture to the storm. Many of those whose, tongues be copied; and the painter to whom the had been clamorous in his praise, and commission was sent (given ?) rather had sung the loudest songs of adulation than disappoint either himself, or his to the sackbut, dulcimer, and harp–O correspondent, took the drawing for the glorious stability of popular applaụse !- plate from a jolly, black girl, a baker's * Vide Southey.
daughter in the neighbourhood.
LONDON: Publisheil by Effingham Wilson, Junior, 16, King William Street, London Brilge,
Where communications for the Editor (post paid) will be received.
[Printed by Manning and Smithson, Ivy Lnne.]
OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE,
THE ABBEY OF MAUBUISSON. graceful fragments in air, marking the
chapel's locality; the lower part of the FROM THE FRENCH OF ETIENNE BEQUET. cloisters here and there sustained by a
single pillar the foundations of the ab(For the Parterre.)
bey and the vaults wherein these poor
religieuses were deposited on passing from A short distance ere the traveller from one death to another ;-such are the sole Paris reaches the steep and winding town remains of that ancient and sacred ediof Pontoise, he perceives on his right fice. One exception however, I have hand the ruins of the once rich and cele. forgotten to make, in gentle hospitality. brated Abbey of Maubuisson, founded I was at Maubuisson in the autumn of in 1246, by the Queen Blanche, mother last year, and one morning being present of Louis the Saint, whose desire it was at the breakfast of the labourers, I hapto be interred therein.
pened to inquire what was the day of The revolution has with its hands of the month. violence thrown down the antique and “ We are at the thirteenth of Octoholy house, and scattered to the wind the ber," replied one of them. ashes of the pious queen who erected it. "Is it the thirteenth ?" anxiously For the last forty years all around has rejoined the gardener ;—" then we shall worn a widely changed aspect in those soon see the lady with the louis d'or." secluded retreats, that during five centu. What do you mean by the lady with ries, time had ever found the same. To the louis d'or ?" said I to him. the silent tranquillity of the convent, the “ Ah! Monsieur, she is now very old. noise and activity of an unceasing in. Every year, upon this day, she comes to dustry have succeeded; the park, with this spot with all her. equipage ; she its sad and sombre trees, has become a walks among the ruins, afterwards resmiling vineyard; a ruined aroli and quests me to bring her a light, and then shaft still suspend their tottering but goes down into the correction, where she
remains for a considerable length of time. is one that I like not to relate. But you On taking her departure, she always have shewn such solicitude for me-an gives us a louis d'or. But if she were old woman !-a very great kindness on not to come this year, it would not sur- your part; therefore since you wish it, prise me, for when we last saw her she listen. had the appearance of being exceedingly “I was born at Beauvais, in 1770. My ill. Francois was obliged to help the mother died in giving me birth ; my domestic to almost carry her through the father, a wealthy country gentleman, ruins, and when she returned from the married again within a very short period correction she was well nigh senseless." after her death. My mother-in-law oc
The correction is a little vault of some cupied herself a good deal at first with three feet square, and a little deeper than the care of me; but after a while, when the ordinary stature of a woman, Dug she had children of her own, bestowed at ten feet beneath the foundations of the the whole of her time upon them and abbey, neither light nor air could have her amusements. penetrated therein. You formerly de- I was eight years old when my father scended to it from the apartment of the was appointed guardian to one of his Abbess, by a narrow fight of steps, nephews who in the space of a few months some vestiges of which may still be seen. had experienced the loss of both father It was there that the religieuses sub- and mother. My cousin became an inmitted to her all-powerful authority, mate of our house. The similarity of were sent to expiate the fault of having our tastes, a species of melancholy which spoken in the refectory, of not having was common to us, the confused instinct risen at the first toll of the bell, and for of our isolated position in the world, many other crimes unpardonable in the had soon united us in that lively friend. eyes of Heaven, and more especially of ship peculiar to childhood. We passed Saint Bernard, whose rule they followed. together every hour unoccupied by our
I had paid little attention to the words education, otherwise very much negof the gardener ; but when I returned lected. That innocent attachment gave from my customary walk, a splendid no uneasiness whatever to my parents, carriage with richly emblazoned panels even at an age when it might have been stood in the court-yard. I proceeded to likely to change itself into another senthe garden, and passed before the wicket timent. It had been agreed between through which now the descent to the them that we should soon be separated correction is effected. When upon the and for ever. sill of the first flight, I perceived a lady “ My cousin consequently had hardly. dressed in deep mourning garments. entered upon his eighteenth year, when She was of tall stature, noble features, my father one day summoned him to his with a countenance far less deteriorated presence for the purpose of announcing in its beauty from age, than by the ex- that he was engaged as a volunteer, in a pression of lively and recent grief. As regiment on the point of embarking for she walked very unsteadily and with the Indies, and that he must hold himgreat difficulty, I offered her my arm; self in readiness to set out on the followa moment afterwards she fainted. and I ing day. My cousin ran immediately to had much trouble in carrying her back acquaint me with this fatal news. After to the house. When she had recovered we had long and bitterly wept in seeking her senses, I insisted that she should to console one another, he embraced me pass the rest of the day and the night at and made me swear upon my prayer. Maubuisson ; to which she ultimately book, that I would not espouse another, consented.
at least until his return. I swore it to The next day, walking with her in the him, and the next day he took his devineyard :
:-“ Monsieur," said she to me, parture. “I have to thank you for your great at. “My turn soon arrived.
My steptention to me; in what way that may mother entered my chamber one morning, be agreeable to you can I return the which she scarcely ever did; she disobligation ?"
coursed long and eloquently to me upon “I have only, Madame, an indiscreet the limited fortune of my father, of the question to ask you, and yet I fear numerous expenses of his household; to do so.
and added, that not having a dowry to “ An indiscreet question, Monsieur? bestow upon me, the profession of a reli
The motive which brings me gieuse was the sole one befitting my birth; here? ... It is a history that my chil- that she was acquainted with the Abbess dren alone are acquainted with; and it of Maubuisson, by whom I should be
well received, that in fine such were the been bequeathed him by his maternal orders of my father. To this argument uncle; that on arriving at Beauvais he it was vain for me to make reply, and had learned the destiny they were preeight days after I was at the Abbey of paring for me, and which threw him into Maubuisson.
the utmost despair. At the same time “ It was the custom then in every con- he bade me remember my oaths, and vent, when a girl presented herself with conjured me not to abandon him. Every the intention of taking the veil, to at thing was provided for. By the influtach another religieuse to her on some ence of money he had gained over several sort of capacity during her noviciate. persons belonging to the convent. If I She was a friend and a companion inces- so willed it, on the following Thursday, santly at her side, charged with the task I had only to station myself in that turof painting in glowing colours to her the ret you see there still standing to the peace and happiness of a conventual life, north, and he would manage the rest ; of which at the same time she was care- we would then quit France together. If ful to dissimulate the wearing austerities. I came not, he would blow out his The associate, the friend they appointed brains. to fulfil this office for me, was named en “ Such a menace must be ever terrifyreligion sister Rose dela Miséricorde. No ing to a young female; it was doubly so one better than herself, and that withto me, who knew too well the character out willing it, could have been fitted for of my cousin. Never did man, under a this species of seduction. With her, calm and reflecting exterior, conceal more every practice of the conventual rules violent passions. Irresolute in trilling seemed easy, so agreeably did she accom- circumstances, he possessed an inflexible plish them. Charming girl, for whom determination in great ones. Had he my heart will never cease to cherish the ever decided upon killing himself, he tenderest affection so long as it beats ! would have arranged the details apperBorn of an illustrious family, poverty taining to his death as any other affair had induced her to the vocation which of daily occurrence; and death, at the my father's will had devoted me. But appointed hour, would have found him that docility of character soon familiarised exact to his appointment. itself to the duties imposed.
" That letter threw me into a state of gelic features, her lovely blue eyes, the mental agitation impossible to be conrepose of manner, all, even to the melody ceived. I passed a most horrible night, of her voice, were in keeping with her a strong fever consuming me. At the gentle and ingenuous mind.
same time the state of my heart fully reever so much detested the cloister, that vealed itself. It was no longer the affecin which one dwelt with her could not tion of a sister that I entertained for him; fail to have its peculiar charms.
it was love, and love the most ardent. “ She speedily engrossed my entire I equally execrated the cloister and the affection and confidence, and in return barbarity of my father. I could have bestowed upon me the sincerest friend- willingly dashed out my brains against ship. We were scarcely ever apart. the bars of my window. When separated from her I thought of “The next day Rose readily perceived my cousin; but what had become of my trouble; she inquired the cause. I him? Should I ever see him again ? shewed her my cousin's letter, which she Then the will of my father came to tore, that it might not compromise any interpose itself between us both as an one; then she opposed me with the preinsurmountable obstacle. So that I con- cepts of religion, the grief of my father, templated the arrival, not certainly the dangers I should run in following without regret, but with little terror, of abroad a man who was not my husband. the day upon which I was to pronounce To all of which I replied, that I would my vow. This I did three months after never be a nun, that they wished to my domiciliation.
sacrifice me, that I loved my cousin, that "One evening, in the month of June, he would destroy himself, and then I on entering my cell, I found a letter on should become mad myself, or more promy bed. Í hesitated at first whether I bably die of grief. Then we said our should not carry it to the superior ; but prayers together, and wept long in each on examining the address, I no longer other's arms. hesitated. ' ì recognised the hand writing " In this manner we passed three days; of my cousin. He informed me that he upon the fourth Rose came to me with a had returned to France in order to claim more tranquil air.—My poor friend,' a very considerable property that had said she to me, I see that the commands