beheld the sacred office of judge offered to a man whose very name is pollution;-may well feel concerned in the following quicksighted observations of one who lived before a door was opened for the entrance of the Romanists into those political privileges, of which too many have shewn themselves so utterly unworthy. Peace, Sir Edward Pellew thought, could never be procured by means of concessions obtained by violence; and as to the securities by which it is sought to hinder the agitators from following up yet further their work of change, the noble Eng bring him, as a prisoner, on board of the Indefatigable. He wished to know to whom he had struck his colours; and upon being told that it was to Sir Edward Pellew: "Oh,' said he, "that is the most fortunate man that ever lived! He takes every thing, and now he has taken the finest frigate in France." Bergeret was for some time the guest of Sir Edward and his family, and was afterwards offered in exchange for Sir Sydney Smith, then a prisoner; but this matter was not arranged; and two years later, when Sir Sydney Smith escaped, the British government most honourably set Bergeret at liberty also.lish sailor would bluntly say, "Securities! Such noble and generous actions, whether it is all nonsense! I never yet could see performed by our own countrymen or our them, and I never shall." He expected-and enemies, deserve always to be mentioned with time has shewn how justly he expected-that respect, and dwelt upon with delight. War so long as any thing remained for noise and is bad enough at the very best; but what violence to obtain, the more that was given would it be, were there no lofty feelings of them, so much the more still would be dehonour, no tender efforts of humanity, no manded. No thoughtful Englishman can Christian love of our fellow-creatures, min- refuse attention to the following solemn warngled with it, to throw a gleam of light acrossing: "The times are awful, when the choice the darkness of its general aspect, and soften the harshness of its cruel character? The next service in which Sir Edward was employed, was to protect from invasion the coasts of an important part of the British dominions. In Ireland discontent prevailed among the papists very extensively; and, in fact, things were ripening towards the great rebellion of 1798, in which hundreds of Protestants were basely murdered by their misguided neighbours and fellow-countrymen. France, taking advantage of the state of Ireland, had resolved upon sending a large fleet to land an army in that country, hoping for the assistance of multitudes of the people, and looking forward to the prospect of gaining a valuable province, as well as of causing terror and confusion among the English_nation. It was in checking and opposing these endeavours that Pellew was employed in the latter part of 1796. This is not the place to enter into the grievances of Ireland, or the best methods of removing them; but since, with regard to Ireland, and almost every other matter of political difference, the fashion latterly has been for one party to keep on agitating," ," and the other to keep on "conceding," until the very foundations of society seem in danger of being torn up, it may be well to bring forward the plain straight-forward opinions of Sir Edward Pellew on this subject. The state of Ireland naturally drew his thoughts to the policy of conceding what were called "the Roman Catholic claims;" and we, who have lived to see the whole power of the British empire in the hands of forty nameless Irish papists-the balancing majority in the House of Commons; we, who have seen British ministers declaring him to be a traitor one year, whom the next year they have owned for their master; we, who have of two evils only is left-a threatened rebellion, or the surrender of our constitution by the admission of (Roman) Catholics into parliament and all offices. I think even this will not satisfy Ireland;—ascendancy is their object. You may postpone, and, by loss of character, parry the evil for a short space; but not long, depend upon it. You and I may not see it; but our children will, and be obliged to meet the struggle man to man, which we may now shirk. By God alone can we be saved from such consequences: may he shed his power and grace upon us as a nation!" To one thus sensible of the Providence by which nations are governed and directed, the events of the intended invasion of Ireland must have been very striking and improving. Sir Edward was stationed off Brest to watch the French fleet; but, though closely watched, it contrived to escape all hinderance, and to make its way successfully to the shores of Ireland, where, instead of landing the troops, and taking possession of the country, the weather was so bad, that some of the ships were lost, and the rest, unable to cast anchor or to land the soldiers, were forced to return again, having met with every kind of disappointment at the very time when certainty of success appeared to be beginning to smile upon them. This is not the first time that God has preserved our coasts from a foreign enemy, without allowing man's arm to be employed in bringing about the deliverance. In 1588 the great fleet, which was to have but who can forget the declaration taken by every mem6 In support of this view many proofs might be brought; ber of the House of Commons belonging to the Church of Rome, that he will not attempt any injury to the esta blished Church-the Church of England? What security has that declaration afforded? How could the Irish papists have been busier than we have lately seen them in trying to overthrow the very Church which they have solemnly declared they would not injure? 66 ever destroyed the power and the Church of England, was in like manner dispersed and scattered by the winds and the waves; and now, the Spanish armada, which might have been our ruin, is thought of only with feelings of joy and thankfulness. Upon the return of the French fleet from Ireland, Sir Edward's ship had an engagement with a vessel belonging to the enemy; and though no victory was gained, and both ships were much disabled, yet the English succeeded in saving theirs, while the French vessel became a mere wreck, and most of those on board perished miserably. The next year brought with it a far greater trial for the English nation than the attempted invasion of Ireland; for the danger that threatened them was not only upon their shores, but from their own people,-from the very men to whom they looked for defence. In 1797 the mutiny of the fleet at the mouth of the Thames, called the Mutiny at the Nore, took place; and, at such a time of peril, the abilities and power of a man like Pellew were sure to make themselves conspicuous. He could combine firmness and kindness, prudence and courage, in no common way; and, besides this, his quickness was astonishing. Nothing like doubtfulness was seen in him. "His first order," said an officer who long served with him, was always his last," and he has often said of himself, that he never had a second thought worth sixpence. In the mouths of most men this would be an absurd boast; but it is an important declaration from one whose whole life was a course of success without failure. While the mutiny was raging at the Nore, the French were getting ready still larger forces for the attack upon Ireland; but this scheme gave their enemies little trouble-for those that had planned it being displaced from power, their successors thought that nothing was better than to overturn what they found prepared; so the sailors were discharged, the fleet dismantled, nay, some of the ships were sold; and the mighty affair ended in nothing. During this one year Sir Edward's squadron took no fewer than fifteen cruising-vessels, on board of one of which they found twenty-five priests, who had been condemned for their principles by the French revolutionary government to perish in the unhealthy colony of Cayenne. Sir Edward restored these poor men to liberty and comfort, setting them on shore in England, and giving them a supply for their present wants. Among the other prisoners were the wife and family of a banished gentleman (Monsieur Rovère), who had been allowed to join him, and were going out with all they had, amounting to 30007.; the whole of which Sir Edward restored to the lady, paying from his own purse that part of it which was the prize of his crew. About this time Captain Pellew exchanged the Indefatigable, which he had so long commanded, for another vessel; and going on board of his new ship for the first time, he was met by the boatswain, who said, "I am very glad, sir, that you are come to us; for you are just the captain we want. You have the finest ship in the navy, and a crew of smart sailors; but a set of the greatest scoundrels that ever went to sea." He checked him on the spot; and afterwards sent for him to the cabin, wishing to know what he meant by thus addressing him. The boatswain had served under him before, and pleaded old recollections in excuse; but after receiving the reproof which Sir Edward thought it needful publicly to give him, he informed his captain that the crew were all but in a state of mutiny, and that for months past he had slept with pistols under his head. A spirit of mutiny was at this time extremely common; and government seemed more inclined to dally with it than to put it boldly down, and then make a fair and searching inquiry into any grievances stated to exist. This would have been the wisest mode of proceeding, and it was this that Sir Edward advised. His plan was, that a ship should be manned with officers and with sailors that could be fully trusted-which should be ready to attack the next vessel that mutinied, and, if necessary, sink her in the face of the fleet. The mere display of such a resolution would most likely have spared the necessity of firing a single shot; for lives are commonly sacrificed only when a mistaken humanity shrinks from duty till the proper time for action has gone by. Twice did Sir Edward, by his prompt and firm conduct, stop the spirit of mutiny on board of his own ships. He was informed of the intention of his men in the Indefatigable to rebel; and when he saw them inclined to act upon this intention, he instantly drew his sword, ordering his officers to follow his example: "You can never die so well," he said, "as on your own deck, quelling a mutiny; and now, if a man hesitate to obey you, cut him down without a word." The crew soon returned to their duty. And afterwards, the words of the honest boatswain turned out to be too true; and that vessel was chosen to take the lead in a proposed mutiny. Sir Edward was in his cabin dressing, before he went out to dinner, when the bad spirit broke forth; and, coming on deck in his dressing-gown, he found between two and three hundred unruly fellows there. They wanted a boat to send a letter to the admiral, complaining of tyranny and hard usage: in vain was it that the captain offered to send it, or take it himself; they all cried out, "No, no; a boat of our own!" Finding that he could not pacify them, and hearing some of them declare with oaths that they would have a boat, and would take one, he quietly replied, "You will, will you?"-ordered the marines out, and sprang to his cabin for his sword. Returning instantly, he resolved to put to death one or more of the ring-leaders on the spot; but their evident wavering spared him the painful duty; and the mutiny was soon quelled, its chief leaders being secured, and their whole scheme brought to nothing. The same stern regard for duty-the same strict enforcement of obedience-were shewn in several other acts of Sir Edward at this trying time; and the success of his conduct shews that his principle was a correct one; that timely firmness will quell almost any disturbance. All these outbreakings of mischief resemble the evil power from which they proceed;-give way to them, and they will soon conquer you; whereas if you resist them," they will" flee from you." 66 (To be concluded in next No.) The Library. No. IV. ON THE INTENT AND USE OF POETRY. "Poetry in its highest kinds is the result not merely of a talent or an art, nor even only of these combined with a capacious mind and an ardent imagination, but also of a life led in the love of truth; and if not in action, as the word is ordinarily used, yet certainly in giving practical effect to right feelings and just judgments, and in communicating, by conscientiousness in conduct, an habitual conscientious justness to the operations of the reason and the understanding."Quarterly Review. THE word poetry means creation. It is an art (or in some sense rather a gift or inspiration), by which the mind creates an ideal world out of that which is not. Hence it stands at the head of all human accomplishments; for in it man most nearly resembles the Deity, and overcomes the limits of time and space, by which his actions are ordinarily confined. The object or end of poetry is pleasure. From this account we shall be able to discover the rules on which it should be framed; as well as to detect those false principles which have led in recent times to the debasement of so noble an art. On the ground of its being concerned with an imaginary or ideal world, poets have run into every extravagance of invention, and have seemed to fancy that the further their creations were removed from truth and reality, the more they had of merit in them. Never was there a greater mistake.. The essence of poetry consists in its truthfulness and faithful adherence to nature. When poets launch into the extravagant, portraying men and women with demoniac passions, -we conclude that both they are wanting in invention, and are persons of corrupt tastes. And in proportion, of course, to the importance of the subject-matter of which poetry treats, must we deprecate any departure from sober truth. Religious poetry has suffered most grievously in this respect. During the last century it was characterised by a sickly, sentimental tone, which has been the fruitful parent of all sorts of heresies. Religion has been represented to consist in feelings; feelings have been described which have no existence in reality; and when the cheat is discovered, the blame, which ought to rest on the untruthful poet, is often transferred to that sacred object which he has presumed to misrepresent. There are no books which a discreet parent will more rigorously exclude from the use of his children than modern collections of religious poetry. Again: much evil has arisen from an ill-directed endeavour among poets to please. What is pleasure? The answer, of course, will differ according to persons' varying tastes and principles. Some consider it to reside in excitement; some in sensual pleasures. And hence we have had poets-the Byrons and Moores of the last generation-whose heroes were invariably villains and voluptuaries, and whose standard of morality was of the lowest grade. In direct opposition to these writers, we shall not err in stating, that the legitimate end of poetry is to calm, and not to excite the feelings --to improve and exalt the mind, not to debase it. The great poet will always be a person of a pure, and elevated, and religious mind. So it has been in every nation and every age: as witness Homer and Eschylus, Ariosto and Spenser, among ancients, and Wordsworth and his followers in our own day. Aristotle, the great critic of antiquity, and master of all knowledge, has well defined poetry to be "the purgation of the passions;" and a poet of our own (Bishop Ken) has given us this excellent || description : "Prophets and poets were of old A poet should have heat and light; The Polyolbion of Drayton. We now propose to introduce our readers to some passages in an early English poem, which in the present day is scarcely to be met with, but which, along with no mean poetical talent, illustrates very beautifully the true province of the art. In seeking an ideal world, the poet need not travel out of the regions of experience. Indeed, his skill consists in composing a picture which, while it is true to nature, softens the roughness of naked realities, and presents all things in their most favourable aspect. The ordinary face of nature, and the incidents of daily life, are inexhaustible stores in the hands of the true poet, and from them he will extract beauties which by the superficial observer were passed over. Antiquity is always a delightful field for the poet. The subject of the Polyolbion is stated in these introductory lines : "Of Albion's glorious isle the wonders I do write, The sundry varying soils; the pleasures infinite; * Go, thou, before me still thy circling shores about, And in this wandering maze help to conduct me out : Direct my course so right, as with thy hand to shew, Which way thy forests range, which way thy rivers flow,Wise genius, by thy help, that so may I descry How thy fair mountains stand, and how thy valleys lie." The poem is, in fact, thoroughly national. In thirty books the author describes, always with the best feeling, as well the natural scenery, as the historical associations, and the ancient monuments of all the English and Welch counties. The following description of the union of the Isis and Thame, which together make the Thames, affords a pleasing instance of the poet's skill: "Ye daughters of the hills, come down from every side, Ye both so lovely are, that knowledge scarce can tell, The Scheld, the goodly Meuse, the rich and viny Rhine, Gaul, Of him shall stand in awe, his tributaries all. Set out with all this pomp, when this imperial stream Him with the like desire the forest doth embrace, No forest of them all so fit as she doth stand, When princes for their sports her pleasures will command: No wood-nymph as herself such troops hath ever seen, 1 So brave assemblies viewed, nor took so rich assays. We shall give one more instance of the poetic and pious mind finding cause of thankfulness in every one of nature's varieties. Many poets have sung of hills and rivers, but we know not where "the goodly plain" has been more pleasingly celebrated. "The deadly screech-owl sits in gloomy covert hid, Whereas the smooth-brow'd plain as liberally doth bid The gentle shepherds here survey the gentle sheep; To these most noble sports his mind who doth apply, Resorts unto the plains. And not a foughten field, Where kingdoms' rights have lain upon the spear and shield, But plains have been the place; and all those trophies high That ancient times have reared to noble memory: We have said that the poet must be essentially a good man, one wlio delights to represent the best feature in every thing. Accordingly, one whole book of the Polyolbion is devoted to celebrating the names of our early British and Saxon saints and worthies. Hear, in Cornwall, how charitably the poet speaks of the failings of good men : "Before thou further pass, and leave this setting shore, Were rear'd, and justly called by their peculiar names, And again: "I sing of saints, and yet my song shall not be fraught The passage which follows is conceived in the same spirit of enlarged wisdom : "Here then I cannot choose but bitterly exclaim Against those fools that all antiquity defame, Because they have found out some credulous ages laid Slight fictions with the truth, whilst truth où rumour staid. And that one forward time, perceiving the neglect Though naked yet and bare, not having to content In dirt, and never saw the wonders of the deep." Over the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, the foundation of which was popularly ascribed to Joseph of Arimathea, the poet thus touchingly moralises : "O three-times famous isle, where is that place that might Then present to assist, at that foundation laid; On whom for this sad waste should justice lay the crime? Nor was he blind to the sins of luxury and self-indulgence, which were growing up in his own day. "Our gold goes out so fast, for foolish foreign things, The tobacco-plant had lately been introduced from America. "Oh, noble Kent, quoth he, this praise doth thee belong, The hard'st to be controll'd, th' impatientest of wrong; Who, when the Norman first with pride and horror sway'd, Threw off the servile yoke upon the English laid; Not suff'ring foreign laws1 should thy free customs bind, We hope that our readers will take as much delight as we have done in these extracts from old Michael Drayton. They are replete with good old English sentiment; and they seem to us to exemplify several of the primary uses of poetry. Drayton lived in the reign of Elizabeth and James I. He was the author of various other poems, chiefly illustrative of the national history. The one from which we have quoted, however, is decidedly his best performance, and deserves far more attention than it has received. The title Polyolbion signifies "much happy;" in allusion to the manifold blessings enjoyed by our native land. DEBT; ITS PERIL, PAINS, AND WITH regard to permanent and continued debts, 1 Several special customs still prevail in Kent to the superseding of the statute-law of the realm. Of this nature is gavelkind, by which all the males in a family inherit equally. 2 The title of a little two-penny book just put forth by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. It is well suited to these days of showy extravagance, and should be widely distributed. |