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Art. 29. Courts of Justice.--The Report of the Select Committee apa

pointed by the House of Commons, tó enquire into the Establishment of the Courts of Justice in Westminster Hall, the Courts of As. size ; the Civil Law Courts; and the different subordinate Offices attached to each Court, with the Fees, Duties, Appointments, and Duration of Interest of each Officer belonging to them. Agreeable to the Returns made by themselves to the Committee. 8vo. pp. 150. 25. 6d.

Clarke and Son. 1799. It is merely necessary for us to state that the present pamphlet is aportion of a larger work which we noticed in our 26th vol. N. S. P: 351, entitled The State of the Nation, &c. &c. and that this publication confines itself to the consideration of Courts of justice. S.R. Art. 30. Two Bögraphical Tracts : 1. Observations)on Mr. Hol.

liday's Life of William late Earl of Mansfield: 2. Thoughts on the
Judicial and Political Life and Character of the said Lord Chief
Justice of the Court of King's Bench, illustrated with a Variety of
Notes and References. By an Ancient Member of the Inner
Temple. To be comprised in Two Volumes, and published in
Four Parts. · Vol. I. Part I. 8vo. Pp. 224. 49. Murray and
Highley.

Though the present performance does not appear, strictly speak. ing, to belong to the class of law, yet as it is so intimately connected with law characters, and professes to discuss legal subjects, we haye introduced it into that department of our catalogue : but it might with equal propriety have appeared in almost any other, its contents being of so strange and heterogeneous a nature. We allow the truth of the author's observation, when he complains of the dul. ness, prolixity, and egotism to be found in Mr. Holliday's work: but we think that the remark comes with an ill grace from a writer jo whom the same faults, in an equal degree, are discoverable, and connected with others of a less pardonable description; for, in the present publication, we perceive strong marks of an uncharitable and inalignant spirit.

Pope's advice has been entirely overlooked by the author of this tract:

those
“ Let me te tcach others who themselves excel,

And censure freely who have written well.” In every page of the pamphlet before us, we sce numerous proof of free and unbridled censure : but in poné have we been fortunate enough to discera even a solitary instance of good writing. S.R.

POETIC and DRAMATIC.
Art. 31. The Force of Calumny, a Play, in Five Acts: by Augustus

Von Kotzebue. Translated from the German by Aune Plumptre.
8vo. pp, 108. 25. 6d. Phillips, &c. 1799.

The muse of Kotzebue continues to pour forth her inexhaustible stores,

Like twenty river gods, with all their urns ;” and Miss Plumptre proceeds, like the gardener in Dionysius, (the critic,) to fertilize our barren dramatic soil, by carefully leading the streams over its surface. We shall not attempt to follow all its

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meanders :

meanders: but, as a specimen of the composition before us, we shall select the subsequent scene; aware that ladies, as they are allowed to be the best judges, ought also to be the best interpreters, in love affairs. SCENE IV.-Morland's house. Jenny is discovered at work ;

SMITH standing and leaning over the back of a chair at a little distance, with his éges fixed upon her. They remain silent, some minutes.

Fenny. My brother is very late!- he keeps the dinner waiting a long time. i Smith. It must be my fault, if the time appear so very

tedious. Jenny. How so? • Smith. I do not understand how to talk. Jenny. On the contrary, I have often, at table, admired your talents for conversation. Smith. I ought rather to be silent there, and talk here.

Jenny. The reverse is the most natural ; since in the company of a woman only, the subjects for conversation are so much more confined, • Smith. But what they lose in variety, they gain in interest.

Fenny. You have, I perceive, been so far initiated into the mysteries of the fashionable world, that you are an adept at making compliments.

Smith. I never make compliments,- I always speak truth.

" Jenny. (Confused, after a puuse) Is it long, since you left England? Smith. Many months.

Jenny. And have you never, like a Swiss, experienced the mal du pays ??

i Smith. Sometimes. Jenny, Why, then, do you not return!--A man of your talents might find employment any where.

* Smith. Do you wish to get rid of me?.

« Jenny. Heaven forbid ! ; . Smith. ' I cannot return, alone, to my native country.

Fenny. Then, why not marry? • Smith. "Tis my ardent wish!

Fenny. Not that it is a step I would recommend.

Smith. Why not?. ..Jenny. Because, if you suppose all married people to be as happ? as my brother and sister, you mistake. Smith. I shall not easily be brought to think so.

Fenny. Most matches are unhappy. Smith. Of that I very much doubt. ! Jenny. I can plead frequent observation of the fact, in support of my assertion. Two young people fall desperately in love with-each other, and think they never can exist asuinder ;-a head-strong father, or a cross guardian, interposes, and thwarts their wishes :--the young people sign and pine, and pine and sigh,- till at length the old people's hearts are melted. Then the lovers fancy they stand upon the highest pinnacle of fortune's temple, and clasped in each other's arms, look down with indifference on every object, in the busy world

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around them;--they rush forward into wedlock, as the night-walker to the lowest edge of the sloping roof, when suddenly some one calls, they start, they wake, and down they fall.

Smith. A very ingenious simile, but the position on which it is founded, is not fact,

Jenny. And there lie the poor souls, stretched in the mire of ennui, exchanging looks of discontent with each other. If, indeed, they be at bottom, people of sense and worth ; powerful habit, after a while, will come to their assistance ; till at length, they will learn to endure each other's foibles with patience; and each will jog .cn contentedly along the paved foot path, to which his steps must be confined ; thankful if no thorns spring up to obstruct and wound him as he proceeds.

Smith. But if esteem be the mother of love ?--
Jenny. She is, at best, no more than a step-mother.

Smith. Those who can reason upon love, have indeed never Loved.

Jenny. And are to be envied. « Smith. To be pitied.

Jenny. An unknown happiness can have no charms. Smith. A false axiom. Do you suppose that miners, condemned to grovel at an immense depth under ground, never long to behold the sun. * Jenny. You have high ideas of love.

Smith. And still higher of wedlock. (He pushes the chair on which he leans, somewhat nearer to Jenny, but without altering his position) Love ties two beings together ;-wedlock makes them only one. Love di inks down large draughts from the cup of joy ;-wedlock sips, up the sweets, a drop at a time; nor finishes them till arrived at the very brink of the grave. Love is a caterpillar, devouring dainties ;-wedlock, the same caterpillar, transformed into a butterfly, when it feeds only upon the purer nourishment of the fragrance exhaled by flowers. Years roll on; but a good wife never becomes old ;-winter succeeds to summer ; but wedded happiness never chills. The kiss of a chaste wifc, is the stamp with which nature seals her choicese, blessings;-storms roar above; lightning flashes around ; but where domestic love dwells, every trouble, every sorrow, is but half felt every joy, every pleasure, is doubled.

Penny. You grow animated. Smith. (Sitting down and drawing the chair nearer to her) Woe to that man who could remain cold and insensible, while descanting on female beauty and virtue !-who would drink out of the same cup with him ?-Woe to the man who pays no more respect to a good wife, than to his night-gown, but, because she admiuisters daily, nay hourly, to his comfort, receives her attentions without one grateful fecling; and only learns to prize domestic happiness, when lost for ever! -Let thy crowns, O Chance! be scattered about like flakes of snow; I would not catch at one ; - I only ask thee to bestow upon me; the simple garland of love! (He draws his chair still nearer) Should I at length find what I have, so many years, sought,-find my hojes, my wishes, realized then farewell; ye petty tyrants of the

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your heart.

mind, ambition, thirst of fame, ardour to obtain the palm of wit !
my heart shall have no room for any guest but love. The sweet calm
of domestic peace, firm union of souls, a taste for the joys of nature,
love, for the unempoisoned air of the country, for rural pastimes, for
the pleasures of retirement, where we may live remote from envy and
calumny-from-

Fenny. (Working very eagerly, and perpetually breaking her thread)
Our finest dreams are seldom realized.

Smith. (Drawing his chair, by degrees, quite close to ber) That I love, is no dream;--but that I Hatter myself with my love being returned, in equal portion, may perhaps be the mere effect of a presumptuous vision. For the first time in my life, I feel my happiness dependant upon the favour of others; and, for the first time in my life, I tremble. Words are but poor interpreters of our thoughts; let this tremor vouch the truth of my feclings!

Jenny. Smith, whence these emotions?

Smith (Taking her hand, eagerly) When a man feels to his inmost soul,--feels so that he can scarcely speak ;-when his voice faulters-through the tears---that would force a passage--to his eyes -Oh, can his sincerity be doubted !

Jenny. Smith!- for heaven's sake!

Smith. This moment decides the happiness or misery of my fu. ture life !-an honest man solicits your hand-an ardent lover solicits

Jenny. The agitation I witness, speaks in a language that cannot
be inistaken-but-
Smith. My birth indeed is humble.

Jenny. That was not what I was going to observe.
Smith. My possessions are small, but sufficient to satisfy mode-
ratę wishes.

Jenny. I do not intend to sell my heart.
Smith. Be it then the reward of honourable love!
Jenny. Allow me time for consideration, dear Smith !

Smith. I thank you sincerely ! ( Kisses her hand with transport)
What can be more grateful to an honest heart, than the assurance that
It shall be proved?"

If the reader wishes to see more dialogue of this kind, he will
meet with many scenes in the play which are not inferior in
merit.

Fer Art. 32. The Unsex'd Females : a Poem, addressed to the Author of

the Pursuits of Literature. Small 8vo. 25, 6d. Boards. Cadell jun. and Davies.

There are laughing and there are crying philosophers: but the satirist blends the

properties of both, without belonging altogether to the class of either. He employs no dull and blunced weapon in attacking vice; and he dissects folly with the sharpest edge of wit. Before him, therefore, those often tremble who are unmoved by grave and formal admonition. In an age of pride, luxury, affectation, and yicious taste, there is no want of employment for the satiric muse; nor have the ladies been desirous of escaping its lash. Of old, they

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have overstepped that modest and delicate line of conduct which Rana ture prescribes to them:

« MÆVIA Tuscum
Figat aprum, et nudá tencat venabula mamma.Juv. Sat. 1.
Here Juvenal gives us a true Unsex'd Female of his day: but we
do not read that this Mævia, or any of the manified Roinan ladies,
undertook to maintain that the rights of women were exactly those
of men, and claimed the privilege of presiding in serates, and of com-
manding armies. They went far enough: but our modern ladies have
surpassed them. They have discovered their equality; and, if our
young men be not on the alert, they may get the upper band, and
assert the superiority* of the female sex. Such old fellows as we are
need not disturb our brains much about it: but we may be allowed to
say that it was not so- in our dancing days; and we cannot see what
advantage is likely to accrue from indulging the ladies in these cu-
lottic imaginations. Would it not be as well for them, and for the
world, if they would rest contented with being women, aud submit to
be corsidered as the weaker, that is to say, the more delicate vessel ?
Perhaps, however, a verse-man may have a better chance with them
than we dull prose-men ; and we therefore refer them to the inge.
nious poem before us; in which the advocates for Unsex'd Females are
Father sharply attacked. The author bids the reader

• Survey with him, what ne'er our fathers saw,
A female band despising Nature's law,
As“ proud defiance” Hashes from their arms,

And vengeance smothers all their softer charms.'
Miss Wollstonecraft's Rights of Woman, with her Posthumous
Works, and the Memoirs of her hy ber Husband, afford abundant
matter for keen animadversion; and Dr. Darwin's Loves of the
Plants, so descriptive of botanic fornication and adultery, do not
escape the playful sallies of sarcastic wit. Many notes are subjoined,
after the manner of the Author of the Pursuits' of. Literature'; . who
is complimented at the beginning of the poem, as are several ladies at
the end. The list of Female Worthies concludes with Mrs. H.
More: but the compliment to her, though meant to be sublime, is
obscure.
Art. 33. A Crilique on the Tragedy of Pizarro, as represented at

Drury-Lane Theatre with such uncommon Applause. To which is added, a new Prologue, that has not yet been spoken. 8vo. 15. Miller.

This author seems very much dissatisfied with the popularity of Mr. Sheridan's tragedy; and he is certainly an industrious collector of er. rors, for he has criticised even the performance of the thunder-storm, What deductions of pathos and sublimity ought to be made on account of the inaccuracies of the thunder-grinders behind the scenes, we shall leave our readers to determine : for our own part, we do not

* Which was done, we well remember, in a notable pamphlet about half a century ago.

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