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Review of New Publicatious. a bold scepiicism, and a complete defi- ceit, and that there never was, nor ance of lorg established public opinion, ever can be, pure and disinterefted they have brcught forth accounts of conduct. Such opinions tend to lowthe conduct and pictures of the cha- er the dignity of our nature, and, by racters of the most illustrious of our depreciating our esteem of ourselves ancestors, extremely different from as well as of others, to weaken every those of the most impartial and best generous effort, to damp every noble informed cotemporary writers, and exertiog. have endeavoured to unfix the histori- If we examine the nature of the cal belief of mankind with regard to evidence on which the authors to points on which it had long been set- whom we allude have built their opided.

nions, we shall, I think, be inclined to This, except to a few persons of a doubt their folidity, as much as we particular turn of mind, is always un- deprecate their effects. This evidence pleafant. But it is particularly dif. confills of three kinds : ift, Anecagreeable when such authors deny or detes or memoirs supposed to have derogate from the merit of personages been written about the time the perwhom we have, from our earliest days, sons treated of lived ; 2d, Letters of been taught to esteem or admire. thofe persons ; 3d, Oral tradition. We That wile and benevolent structure of may be allowed some general observaour minds which disposes them to tions on each of those ipecies of evifeel pleasure in the encomiam of vir- dence. tue in the abstract, gives them the sen- With regard to the first, that of timent of reverence and gratitude to memoirs or anecdotes supposed to those persons whose actions have been have been written at the time, it may held to merit that encomium. Our be observed, that if they are the prohearts rise within us at the bare men- ductions of persons who are themselves tion of their names, and we regard engaged in public transactions, or conthem as we do our patrons and our nected with any of the parties or facfriends. To be deprived of this sen- tions then sublisting, there is a fufpitiment, to be told that we have been cion against their testimony, which it deceived, to be informed that such per- requires a conviction not only of the funages, instead of being the objects candour but of the strength of their of cur best affections, of our love and minds to remove. Let us judge the severence, ought to excite in us only café from the analogy of our own the feelings of hatred and contempt, times ; let us anticipate the researches mift neceffarily communicate a very of future historians, and suppose their disagreeable sensation.

'Tis to ex- judgment of the character of the change feelings the most pleafant for present time, to be drawn from the others the must painful; 'uis like lof. parıy-writings of this day, and, I think, ing our beft friends, and having them it will be easy to pronounce on the in. converted in:o our bittereft ene nies. justice of their representations.

Nor is this all. Such a change of The next fpecies of evidence, that sentiment is apt to make us doute of of letters or paffages of letters alledged the truth and certainty of all human to have been written by those persons virtue. Nothing can have a stronger whose characters are attacked, or attendency to lead the mind, for the mo- tempted to be depreciated, though ofment at least, to adopt the disagrec- ten brought forth with an air of triumable and ill founded opinions of cer- phant discovery, appears to be of a kind táin philosophers, who have taken pains extremely uncertain and inconclusive. to convince the world, that all the pre. Let any one, who in the private walks tensioc.s to virtue are founded on dę, of life has liad an extendive and vari

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pus correlpondence, consider what it To this bistory of the latter part of would be to have his character judged Queen Anne's reign, the preceeding of, not by his actions or conduct, not remarks are applicable in the strongest by the train of his correspondence degree: Not only is the evidence, wy compared with his conduct, not even which its narrative is supported, of by the whole series of his letters com- those uncertain fpecies we have enupared with one another, but by differ- merated, but their authority is less subent detached pasiages of these letters, ftantiated than is common in works written at different periods and to dif- that rest on the same fort of ferent persons, without any knowledge Manuscript anecdotes are quoted of the circumstances in which they without its being mentioned by whom were written or of the persons to they were written, and ihey are very whom they were addressed, and he will seldom, if at all

, given at full length, at once fee the hardship of such a mode or, in the words of the anonymous of procedure. If this holds in private author from whom they are taken. life, how much more must be the in. Neither are the letters, but with few juffice of such a mode of forming our exceptions, copied at large; and somejudgment of men concerned in the times when they are mentioned to various great and difficult transactions have been in the posseflion of the auof states and kingdoms ; in those trans- thor's father, no account is given of actions, where, from their very nature, the manner in which he became pofthe weak muft so often be flattered, sessed of them. Most of the anecdotes the violent conciliated, the interested derived from oral tradition, confessedallured, the subtle counterplotted, and ly flowed through the channel of the where State secrecy makes conceal- couri of St Germains, to whose zeal ment and disguise but parts of the vir- for its unfortunate master we can eatue of fidelity

fily pardon that pliant belief, those vioThe third sort of evidence we men. lent prejudices which are to decorate tioned, that of stories or anecdotes the characters of his friends,' aod to handed down by oral tradition, it is depreciare those of his enemies. scarce necessary to comment further Exclusive of the errors, to which, on, than to suggest that it is clearly from the above mentioned circumliable, and indeed, in a much stronger stances, this narrative is liable, it may degree, to every objection that has be further observed, that, from the been made against the first. Its ori- very fingular account which the auginal imperfections are as great as thor gives of himself in his preface, he those of written memoirs or anecdotes, can hardly be supposed to be altoge. and it is liable, besides, to that increas- ther dispallionate or unprejudiced on ed uncertainty, which succeeding igno- the subject of his history. We mean rance or prejudice may occasion. not by this to infinuate, in the most

We have been induced to make distant degree, that the author (who those general remarks, not only as they we have heard is a most upright and apply to the work before us, but, as benevolent nian) would intentionally we think they may not improperly be misrepresent or fallify any particulars ; kept in view in perusing some other but it is requisite only to read a few modern narratives of former transac- passages of his book, to be satisfied that tions and other modern portraits of he is too much heated, and under too former statesmen, which contradict the much irritation, to be a cool and imgeneral opinion, and frike at the ve- partial historian of the period he has neration which the public have long chosen. What but this heat, this inbeen accustomed to pay to some of its temperate zeal, could have led him illustrious ancestors.

gravely to retail the ridiculous story, 428


Rrview of New Publications. that the set of dissipated and thought- rupters, of our poet's text; and great less young men, recorded by the Spec- corrupters indeed, be proves them tator under the title of Níohacks, were both, in the course of the work, 10 men hired by Prince Eugene to com- hare been. mit riots in the streets, and dip their Mr Malone appears to have been hands in blood, that they might be at great pains in collating the several hardened to the atrocity of political copies, and by means of an indes, or massacres ?

table formed for the purpose, to have The vehemence and zeal of this detected every variation in every copy; author have not only prejudiced his by which means many innovations, belief, but also degraded his language transpositions, &c. have been detected, below the dignity of historical, or the many hundred emer:dations made ; and decorum of improved expression. To I truft (fays he, with that modely call the Duke of Marlborough, whole which is displayed through the whole) fhining talents and military exploits a genuine text has been forined.”. have ranked him with the ablert fiatel- Among the introductory matters conmen and most consummare generals, a tained in the first part of the first vo. fiend, a dastardly veteran, is to use a lume, the prefaces of Theobald, Hanfreedom with history and with his mer, and Warburton (on the latter of readers, which we are persuaded the whom Mr M. is pretty sevére,) are author, upon culm review, will thank not admitted--not appearing to the us for having pointed out to his cor- editor to throw any light on the au. rection. [Edinburgh Herald.] thor or his works.

Dr Johnson's preface, Mr Steeren's Advertisement, Catalogue of ancient

Translations from Clasic Authors, The Plays and Poems of William Mr Pope's Preface, the Players de

Shakespeare, collated verbatim with dication and preface to the third folio, the most authentic Copies, and revif. Rowe's life of Shakespeare (with maed; with the corrections and Illus- ny notes by Mr Malone, and, what is trations of various Commentatori; better, a promise, at a future period, to which are added Notes by Edmond of a comp!cat life,) bis will and a Malone. 11 vols cr. 8vo.

mortgage, Poems on Shakespeare, Lift

of the ancient and modern editions of IT appears the principal aim of Mr the plays and poems, and Mr MaloMalone, in this edition, to ascer- 'ne's effay on the chronological order tain the genuine text of Shakespeare, of the plays considerably enlarged, from the earliest editions. This, as form a volume which is called the he very justly observes, ought 'ever to fișst part of the first volume. be the first duty of an editor'; his The second part of the first volume next aim is to explain and illustrate ; 'begins with Mr Malone's history of and in this latter he has shown great the English Stage, now of itself neardiligence, attention, and extent of ly fufficient to form a moderate book reading of contemporary writers. (and to such a book we wish much to

The editor of the second folio, and fee it extended ;) and then proceeds Mr Pope (observes Mr Malone in to the plays, of which the tempeft "his preface,) were the two great cor- ranks the first..


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The Chevalier Bayard and Madame de Randan. A Tale of the fiftienth century. M houten Alicanda, became a witow ng

ADAME de Randan, of the illustrious gem, I am convinced he is enterprir. at twenty years of age, and wis incon. After these fort reflections the two foleable. Whatgrief was ever like hers, knights fat for some time fiient ; strange and whose eyes, fo young and to charm- thoughts were palling in thcir minds, ing, ever shed so many tears for a dead for th:v were both in love. It was the husband! The whole taik atcourt was of first instant of their patlion, and that inthe mourning of the young widow. She Itani is certainly lonactimis very embarno longer consulted hur mirror ; the des- railing. " It wouill be a dieritorious piled the decorations of dress, and vowed act, iaid Palice, to touch the heart of 10 io the shade of her husband that the fair and accomplished a la y.” “ Cerwould never more use them: the muffled tainly, taid Bayard, and highly honoura herself up in a hood like a nun, and yet, able :” and they relapied again in:o fie in that disadvantageous artire, Madame lence. They looked at each other, and de Randan was the lovelicit of ali the wo- perceived that they were rivals.

• Let men of her time.

there, however, be no difference between The Chevalier Bayard, at the age of us, said Palice. Let us swear hy Si De:dthirty, had already aitained the appeila- nis, that whosoever fall be ine unluca tion of Bayard the dauntless and irre. Cetsful lover, mall immediately yie d proachable. Palice was proud of ha- without complaiut; and that is a chiul ving been named with universal applause thali enter the lifts the duwarded candito the command of the army at Ravenna. dare fall aslift the other, and be his com. These two preux chevaliers, who acted a panion in arms.. Let us propise, on the conspicuous part in the field, were hard- faith of true knights, to relate our fucly known at court, and they resigned to cels without reserve.” " I swear,” said the gentle Bonnivet and many others, Bayard. They embraced and te paraied. the intire poffesfion of court favour, con.

The one took the road on the right tent themselves with military fame. Bon- hand, the other that on the left, but nivel, however, sometimes courted the both directed their steps to the horel of conversation of Palice and Bayard; his the fair widow. Bayarui had already frigid soul came to warm itself at the fire set his foot ui hin the thre hold of her which animated them when they talked gate, when he law Palice coming. The of honour, and loyalty, and deeds of had all his life been above fufpicion or arms. Bonnivet repayed them with reproach. * Emer, my Friend, isid he tales of galantry, with the news and « to Palice, you are my fenior; goud anecdotes of the court. The fair wi- • night and luccels to you; I will redow had her turn. « What think you,” “ turn to-morrow. At the woni's he faid he one day to the knights, of Ma- retired, and Palice was announced to the dame de Randan ?. “ By this hand,” widow. faid Bayard, “ I never saw so fair a How fall I describe Ma'lume de Ran.

daine." ~ Befhrew, me, added Palice, dan. She wore a grey robe: her iluir “ but it is too much to weep so long for was unpowdered, and concealed bencin “ the dead." “ Dont you know, replied an immense hord which covered her rice. 6. Bonnivet, that I have undertaken to A small machine for weaving filk !ace "! put a speedy termination to her wi- ftood before her, and a young boril, wło

dowhood ? yes, indeed, the fair wi. was reading certain select cages from s dow, let me tell you in confidence, the stury of Godfrey of Boulogne, was « will not be displeased when I attempttó often interrupted by the midwiiin « dry her tears." “ Thou art a vain many a figli. This was the Hindur • créature, said Palice." 6 lie. is a whom theie two brave Chevaliers were “ braggart,” rejoined Bayard. 6. Very about to contend. She ackoowledydd well, gentlemen, said Bonnivet, obleive the honour of the Captain's visit, but it the end,” and he took his leave.

made her neither inore talkative nor What a strange man, faid Palice, is more at eale.

« You see before you, this Admiral Bonnivet! When I con- said Palice, a true knight who has just lider, replied Bayard, his behaviour to devoted himfelf wholly to your servier.” a iady of high rank, into whose cham- “How fay you ! fuid mhic, with fure ber lic introduced himself by a frata- prizu." " Ti is true, fair lady: my land, VoL, XII. No.72.


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The Chevalier Bayard and Madame de Randan. A Tale. my heart, I lay at your feet.” At this ed me ; hut a brave fellow, who had ale the widow wept and was silent. Palice ways defended himself from my strokes was affected and had almost th d tears. surrounded me with his party and took The girl by a fign, brought forward theme prisoner. Ludovic had seen my be. picture of M. de Randan, and the widow, haviour from his window and feni for as her only answer, pointed with her fine me. " What brought you hitber, Cheger to this infcription, I love him Hill. valier ?" said he. “ The defire of victory, Palice interpreteil this dumb refusal, I answered. And did you expect to and took his leave for that time by de- take Milan alone ?" No, my Lord, claring that he would never cease implor. but I thought I had been followed by my ing God to dispose ber heart to forget comrades.”- “ Though you had, you the dead, and to have pity on the living. could not have succeeded."-" They

Bayard waited his return with a de- were wiser than I; they are free and I gree of impatience, “ Alas! said Palice, am a prisoner."-"What is the strength fe was all in tears, she thewed me the of the French Army ?"- " We never portrait of her husband, and I have been reckon by numbers ; but I can affure obliged to retire without hope !" Bayard you the soldiers are all chosen, men before knew the worth of Palice and did not whom your's will never stand."'--"That flatter himself. " I will go however time will determine ; a battle will to-morrow, said he, and you mall know prove their valoar."— Would to God the event."

it were to-morrow,and that I were free." The mterview between our Chevalier _“You are free; I like your freedorn,and and the widow was not altogether the your courage ; if you have any thing fame. Bayard was younger than Palice further to ask of me it shall be granted." and his famie was greater. The beautcous I fell at his feet and befought him to widow went; he mewed the portrait, but pardon the rudeness of my replies. I the listened to Bayard ; and when he begged my horse and my arms and took said to her, Madam,. I will return---the leave. Thus ended my adventure at replied in a low voice," you will do me Milan. It was easy for Ludovic to give me a great kindness."

back my liberty; but that which I have The Chevalier related to Palice the loft with you it is impoffible to recover." conversation faithfully. You will be Palice was informed of this long con" the happy man, faid the captain; the versation ; for Bayard faithful to his oath “ did not speak half so much to me."Pa• concealed nothing from him. The next lice made another attempt. The widow visit he paid the widow he thought to was stili in tears, the picture was again make his court by detailing the circumpresenied. Baya.d returned ; and while stances of the batiles he had fought from Palice was always treated in the same Marignan to Ravenna ; but his labour way, the Chevalier was making advances was loft ; what interested the fair widow daily. The fair widow begon to turn when told by Bayard, was ir Gpid when her eyes now and then to her mirror. related by Palice. This at lait be perThere was however no change of drels, ceived. « The honour of this conquest, no kind looks; but he wept no more, said he, is yours, Chevalier ; I yield and and always prolonged the converíation retire. If a third rival appears, behold by questions that demanded long an- me your companion in arms." fwers, which the Chevalier never gave T'he fair widow grew insensibly enawith fufficient precision. " Tell me, moured of Bayard; and his conversa“ faid the, one day, the story of your tion, which at first was only a pleasure “ being made prisoner in Milan by Lu- became at last a neceffity. She had quit“ dovic." "I was, laid B:yard, at the scd her grey attire, and had gradually reBread of a party of French; we were sumed her' former drefs. One would met by a party of I:alians who attack. have said that the certainty of being beloved us vigorously: both sides were fo ed inspired her with the wish to please. She animated that the one did not know they took a fancy to re-appear at court, with were retreating nor the other that they a view of observing whether she did not were advancing, till we were at the gates still retain the pre-eminence over all the of Milan where the cry of turn, turn, beauties there. Bayard was the only was repeatedlyardeagerly uttered. I, who man who forgave the widow her return was intent upon victory, was deaf to the to the world, and she was accordingly cry and thoughtlessly pursued into the always called at Court the Lady of the heart of the city. Immediately foldiers Chevalier. and citizens and the very women attack- Spain having at that time renewed as


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