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things that pleased me most in the I shall not soon forget the looks of whole exhibition, and it did not please cordial love which seemed to beam me the less because I had not been from the pastor to his people, and prepared to expect any such thing by back again from their eyes to their the reports I had heard of him in E- pastor in the Tron Church of Glas. dinburgh. He goes to that critical gow. city now and then to preach a charity sermon or the like ; and I can easily understand how it may have happen- EXPLANATION OF A PASSAGE IN ST ed that the impression produced by
PAUL. him there on such occasions may have,
MR EDITOR, in general, been very different from that which I witnessed here in his In your Number for last October own church. I can easily suppose, I remarked an explanation, rather that, on these occasions, he may put awkwardly introduced at the close of himself forward far more exclusively some verbal criticisms on Shakespeare, in the capacity of a combative reason of a passage in St Paul which has er that then every look and gesture puzzled all commentators, but which may speak too plainly his knowledge I think the writer of the essay alludthat he has hostile opinions all about ed to has cleared up, by the simple aid him to grapple with. In fact, such a of a parenthesis, in such a manner man must know, that, when he preaches that there can be no longer any doubt any where out of his own church, his as to the Apostle's meaning. The congregation is of a very mixed de- passage I mean is that in which St scription, comprising persons who en- Paul says, “ Neither was the man tertain every variety of opinion in re- created for the woman, but the woman gard to matters of religion. In Edin- for the man. For this cause onght burgh, in particular, he must be well the woman to have power on her head, aware the field on which he is sent to because of the angels.” This paslabour has its tares as well as its wheat sage, as it stands, is utterly unintelin abundance. The beadle at the ligible ; but I refer your readers to the door, who, by a long succession of six- explanation of your verbal critic, which pences, has had his mind expanded I believe they will find perfectly satisinto principles of universal tolerance, factory ; yet, coming as it does, at the admits with equal kindness birds of close of a set of remarks on Shakeevery different kind of plumage--he speare, it probably has never been so shoves the sanctified hosier into the much as noticed. If he has any more same pew with the disciple of David criticisms on the much-tortured text Hume, learned in the law. Having of that great poet, by all means let us such dissimilar auditors to deal with, have them, because he seems to have a preacher like Dr Chalmers may very hit upon some right readings, in the naturally be led to make use only of passages on which he has commented, argumentation addressed to those rea- in a very simple and happy way ; but soning faculties, wherewith all his au- he will do well hereafter to separate ditors profess themselves to be more his biblical from his dramatic critior less endowed. There is no doubt cisms. argument is the staple of his preach- I am at present tempted to suggest ing even here-and so, in this age of an explanation, of another very obscure, doubt and argument, it ought to be and, apparently, unmeaning passage in but here, at least, he contrives to a- St Paul, which is quite according to the dorn his argument with abundance of cautious principles of your correspongentler accompaniments, which per- dent. By altering the punctuation, haps his modesty, among other things, without venturing the slightest change may contribute to render him more upon a word, I think I can throw a slow in using elsewhere. For my- very clear light upon the passage in self, I have described him as I saw question. It is in the eleventh chaphim in the midst of his daily au- ter of the second epistle to the Corindience
thians, in which the apostle is conIn his allotted home a genuine Priest,
trasting his own conduct with that of The Shepherd of his Flock; or as a King some false teachers, who, he affirms, Is styled, when most affectionately praised, were misleading his disciples at CoThe Father of his people.
rinth. In the course of this compa
rison, he gets into a vein which he also." I translate " xala alias" calls boasting. “I say again, let no " with respect to contumelious conman think me a fool; if otherwise, duct," of which the actions before Fet as a fool receive me, that I may mentioned are instances. Perhaps, boast myself a little. That which I however, these words may be better speak, I speak it not after the Lord, joined with the preceding clause, thus, but as it were foolishly, in this confi- Eo 715 vuas EIS TROOWTON degsi xala anie dence of boasting. Seeing that many way, and then the meaning will be, glory after the flesh, I will glory also. « If any one bring you into bondage, For’ye suffer fools gladly, seeing ye &c., if any one insultingly smite you yourselves are wise." So far is plain
on the face, I say thus, that we are enough, but what follows seems to
weak," as to such actions namely; have no meaning. “ For ye suffer, it
“but in whatever respect,” &c. There a man bring you into bondage, if a ;
is no great matter which of these man devour you, it' a man take of you, to
you, forms of reading be adopted the last if a man exalt himself, if a man smite
may be the more simple ; but I have you on the face.” How is this an il
no doubt whatever that I have found lustration, as it seems to be intended,
the true key to this passage, and that of the foregoing assertion, “ Ye suffer
I have restored to the apostle not only fools gladly, seeing ye yourselves are
good sense, but his own fine and pens wise?" That is a general remark, that
culiar eloquence. If this is “ speake people who are wise themselves can
ing foolishly,” the folly of a commenbear with temper the absurdities of the
tator likewise, “ in this confidence of others, such as boasting and vain boasting.” may shelter itself, perhaps. glory, but is it an instance of this, under St Paul's authority.--I am, &c. that the Corinthians suffered tamely
A WORD-CATCHER WHO LIVES the indignities which are here affirm
ON SYLLABLES. ed to have been put upon them? The next sentence adds tenfold darkness to the whole. I speak as concern
REMARKS ON DRAMATIC SCENES AND ing reproach, as though we had been
OTHER POEMS, BY BARRY CORNweak. Howbeit, whereinsoever any is bold, (I speak foolishly,) I am bold
WALL. LONDON, 1819. also." Whai does this mean?-In or
Op We begin to hate the name of simder to explain the difficulty, I shall
plicity, which of late years has unfor
plicit first quote the original words, with
tunately been only another name for
una the punctuation which I think the
affectation. This small but agreeable true one, and shall then translate them volume has not served to overcome into the sense which they bear, when our objections : its only fault is its so regulated. EWS yag avexeo.Je lw simplicity. To write as our ancestors (LZgva, opouillon ovles avezeohe yag. did, or are supposed to have done, two alig vas zalamounos, el 705 zuleo-Sisi, hundred years ago, is not to write as 9115 hp avel, en nog steigerc, xi Tis they would have written, had they 0225 els ago WToy degel, xala alisov,
now been living now: besides, their moa
dern imitators do not write as they heyw as, őt ipsis nomenoajevo sv ý
mau did, but as their own contemporaries
a i av Tis 107.2ą (Ev apgoouuri nyw) 102. do not. The secret of this sort of comlew zeyw. According to this punc- position is nothing but a love of sintuation, the apostle says, “For ye gularity and the spirit of contradice, suffer fools gladly, because, being tion. Real simplicity of style is the yourselves wise, ye suffer them.” He not aiming at distinction, by using then goes on to make the contrast be- any but the most common and obvious tween bimself, and the false apostles modes of expression, which never die above mentioned, still more pointed. vert the attention from the matter to " If any one bring you into bondage, the manner: modern simplicity cona if any one devour you, &c., I say sists in a constant attempt at distincthus, that, as to doing things disho- tion, by breaking in upon the prenourable to you, we are weak: [it is vailing usages of language and prenot of such exploits that I boast; 7 but scribed rules of versification, in order in whatever respect any one is justly to show how much wiser you are than bold, (I speak foolishly,) I am bold the common run of authors, and to TOL. V
throw a stumbling-block of odd ed with the beauty as well as novelty phrases and unscanned metres in the of his imagery; he evinces great truth, way of the reader. Harmony of delicacy, and sometimes profundity of sound has certainly been carried to a feeling; in his imitations of Boccacio, degree of unmeaning smoothness and in particular, he has not “ overstepmonotony; and, therefore, our adepts ped the modesty of Nature," doing cut a verse in two, and leave us to neither too little nor too much, prejump or hobble over it (like a broken serving the real simplicity of the senbridge) as well or as ill as we can. timent, and yet working it out into In like manner, it is true that our ar- ingenious and natural dialogue :-it tificial poetic diction has too often ta- is only when out of what we believe ken systematic leave of the natural to be a false modesty he affects the idiom and humbler resources of the quaintness and idle peculiarities of a language of prose : and therefore the modern school of poetry that we quarsame ingenious theorists set them- rel with him, and are determined to selves to pick out the most trivial do so, till he “ reforms and writes phrases and the most creeping parts of cleanly." To give a few examples to speech to catch attention and signa- justify the impatient severity of these lize the force of their genius. This, remarks. We will take the following we conceive, is a great piece of imper- lines from the first sketch, “The "tinence; and the worst effect of it is, Two Dreams," which, in spite of all that it operates as a continual inter- such blemishes, is a beautiful and inruption to the chain of ideas which teresting fragment. Why, then, need the author is about to convey, entan- it be wantonly defaced ? gles the imagination in a questionable sets
" If cold, my love was warm; if stormy, I epithet, or makes it hitch in an im
Wrapped my cloak round, and smiled, for practicable line, sets you at cross
you were safe : purposes with the poet, and looks very And when the piping winds of winter blev much as if it were intended as an ex- Sleet and the drenching rain against me, cuse for him, in case you do not admire his writings, to throw the blame On high the fighting elements cast out,' &c. on your want of taste and proper re- " I had a silly trouble on me : you lish for the uncorrupted beauties of a Will laugh when I shall tell you of't. (l pure and delicate style. “ An adınirable evasion” of some of our candi. You will laugh.) I have had a dream ; "dates for fame to lay the fault of their sit closer, “ metre-ballad-mongering” on Na. And press your palm 'gainst mine that's ture, to pass muster as belonging to
well ; but you an obnoxious school, and to claim pe- Have quite forgot your usual kiss," &c. culiar exemptions and privileges from Now this is a constant practice with the unpopularity of their style, when, the author, (and we think it a pracin fact, let them have chosen what tice not worthy of him,) to put some style or school they would, nobody word or monosyllable at the end of a would have read them, and they have line, which has no meaning or effect only obtained distinction by becoming but' as it is connected with the next voluntary martyrs to critical damna- lin
damna- line. Is not this purely capricious ? tion! Such persons, when they have There are occasions when this may be wriggled themselves into notoriety, done naturally and properly, as, for and become proverbial for insipidity, instance, in the lines, which their admirers call taste, may exclaim with Lucy in the Rivals, “ Last night, 'tis said, (the only night, “ Well done, little Simplicity !".
when I, · Simplicity is a Siren that has seduc- Since our sweet marriage, have been barred ed many a young author, and it has
from you.") tried its deceitful arts (not altogether But to do it constantly, and regularly in vain) on Mr Cornwall. In his violate a rule, is a trick, and an in* motto he disclaims any great merit different one, which any body can
for his “ matter," but bespeaks it for imitate. Again, the following lines his “ method," which he calls “an contain examples of an irregularity in honest method.” We think his the metre, without any motive or obthoughts sterling, and their garb only ject that we can see, but to occasion meretricious. We are often delighta a difficulty to the reader, so that you
are forced to repeat them twice over, THE BROKEN HEART. in order to master them, like trying a
[This sketch is founded upon a tale of note upon an instrument that is out
Boccacio. The story is this. Jeronymo of tune.
was sent from Italy to Paris, in order to 6 At last
complete his studies. He was detained There rose a shadowy thing from out your there two years, his mother being fearful body,
lest he should marry a poor and beautiful And stood in silence by you. It was not girl, (Sylvestra,) with whom he had been Flesh, no, nor vapour : but it seem'd to be brought up from his infancy. During his A dismal compound of the elements, absence his mother contrived to have SylHuddled by chance together, ere the form vestra married. He returned, and, after Of man was fashioned into beauty, and wandering about her dwelling, succeeded in Like a most loathsome and unfinished thing getting into her chambers, conversed with Flung aside for ever.”
her, (her husband being aslcep,) and, at
last, died on the bed before her.] One other objection of this sort, and we have done with remonstrance. Scene II.--Sylvestra's Chamber. . Gabriello says,
JERONYMO, SYLVESTRA. 66 Why then about my dream ;
Jeron. So: all is hush'd at last. ,,Hist! For I've dreamt too, and 'twas a tenible
There she lies, dream
Who should have been my own : SylvesYet I am here to laugh at 't.
tra !No; Andrcana. When did 't happen?" &c. She sleeps; and from her parted lips there As the former lines were difficult to a
A fragrance, such as April mornings draw read, the combination of words or let
· From the awakening Aowers.
There lies ters here is impossible to pronounce.
her arm, But no more of that. We proceed to Stretch'd out like marble on the quilted lid, the more welcome part of our task, And motionless. What if she lives not ? which is to give specimens of the ge
Oh! peral style and merit of the work, and How beautiful she is ! How far beyond for this purpose we shall give the se- Those bright creations, which the fabling cond scene from “ The Broken Heart," Greeks
That assuring our readers that the other Placed on their white Olympus. pieces in the volume breathe the same great queen, spirit, and are inlaid (if we may use
Before whose eye Jove's starry armies
shrank the phrase) with the same beauties
To darkness, and the wide and billowy seas of thought and diction. We would Grew tranquil, was a spotted leper to her ; extend the saine general praise, with And never in such pure divinity. the same minute, and, perhaps, cap- Could sway the wanton blood as she did. tious exceptions, to the miscellaneous Hark! poems which follow the Dramatic She murmurs like a cradled child. How
Sylv. Ha! who's there? • The author introduces some very ele. Jeron. 'Tis 1. gant and lofty stanzas on Lord Byron and Sulv. Who is 't ? a friend, with this quaint half-line.
Jeron. Must I then speak, and tell my .And there I saw two men.”
name to you?
Sylvestra, fair Sylvestra ! know me now: If he had seen two cameleons, the phrase Not now and is my very voice so changed would have been “ German to the matter.” By wretchedness, that you you know me We catinot refrain from adding the very
not ? beautiful and philosophic description of one Alas! of the great living masters of song, which follows.
From their dark grave-the heart. But “ Upon his beautiful forehead scorn was quickly these, sitting,
Like clouds of rain in summer, passed by; And weariness and woe: and o'er his eye And then he wantoned with the mountain Shadows of dim tumultuous thought were
And with the soft mysterious music of the And passions, which are buried ere they • trees, - die,
Held frequent talk, like some familiar Exorcised by the enchantress, memory, · spirit.”
Sylv. Begone, I'll wake my husband, if How we were wont, on autumn nights, to You tread a step : begone.
stray, a Jeron. Jeronymo !
Counting the clouds that passed across the Sylo. Ha! speak.
moon Jeron. Jeronymo.
Jeron. Go on. Sylv. Oh!
Sylv. And figuring many a shape groJeron. Hide your eyes ;
tesque, Aye, hide them, married woman ; lest you Camels and caravans, and mighty beasts,
Hot prancing steeds, and warriors plum'd The wreck of him that loved you.
and helmed, Sylv. Not me.
All in the blue sky floating. Jeron. Yes
Jeron. What is this? Loved you like life ; like heaven and hap- Sylv. I thought you lik’d to hear of it. piness,
Jeron. I do. Jov'd you and kept your name against his Sylt. Then wherefore look so sadly?
Jeron. Fair Sylvestra ! (Il boding amulet) till death.
Can I do aught to comfort you ? Sylv. Alas!
Sylv. Away, Jeron. And now I come to bring your You do forget yourself. wandering thoughts
Jcron. Not so. Can I Back to their innocent home. Thus, as Do aught to serve you ? Speak! my time 'tis said,
is short, Do spirits quit their leaden urns, to tempt For death has touch'd me. Wretches from sin. Some have been seen Sylv. Now you're jesting. o' nights
Jeron. Girl! To stand, and point their rattling finger at Now, I am-dying. Oh! I feel my The red moon as it rose ; (perhaps to turn
blood Man's thoughts on high.) Some their lean Ebb slowly, and before the morning sun arms have stretch'd
Visits your chamber through those trailing 'Tween murderers and their victims. Some vines, have laugh'd
I shall lie here, (here in your chamber,) Ghastly upon-the bed of wantonness,
dead. And touch'd the limbs with death.
Dead, dead, dead, dead : Nay, shrink not. Sylv. You will not harm me?
Sylv. Pr’ythee go, Jeron. Why should I not ? No, no, You fright me. poor girl! I come not
Jeron. Yet I'd not do so Sylvestra: To mar your delicate limbs with outrage, l I wili but tell you, you have used me Have lov'd too well for that. Had you harshly, but lov'd
(That is not much,) and—die: nay, fear Sylv. I did, I did!
me not. Jeron. Away-My brain is well: I would not chill with this decaging (Though late 'twas hot.) You lov'd! a touch, way, away,
That bosom where the blue veins wander This to a dying man ?
round, Sylv. Oh! you will live
As if enamoured and loth to leave their Long, aye, and happily : will wed per
homes . haps.
Of beauty : nor should this thy white cheek Jeron. Nay, pr’ythee cease, Sylvestra ! you and I
From fear at me, a poor heart-broken Were children here some few short springs wretch : ago,
Look at me. Why, the winds sing through And lov'd like children: I the elder ; you my bones, The loveliest girl that ever tied her hair And children jeer me, and the boughs Across a sunny brow of Italy.
that ware I still remember how your delicate foot And whisper loosely in the summer air, Tripped on the lawn, at vintage time, and Shake their green leaves in mockery, as to how,
say, When others ask'd you, you would only “ These are the longer livers." give
Sylv. How is this? Your hand to me,
Jeron. I've numbered eighteen sumSylv. Alas ! Jeronymo.
mers. Much may lie Jeron. Aye, that's the name; you had in that short compass; but my days have forgot.
been Sylv. Oh! no.
Not happy. Death was busy with our Can I forget the many hours we've spent, When care had scarce began to trouble Early, and nipped the comforts of my