THE

LITERARY MAGNET

OF THE BELLES LETTRES, SCIENCE, AND THE FINE ARTS.

Consisting of

1. ORIGINAL SATIRICAL ESSAYS OF PERMANENT

INTEREST;

2. SKETCHES OF SOCIETY, HUMOUROUS AND SENTIMENTAL; 3. ORIGINAL POETRY.-4. MISCELLANEOUS MATTERS;

Forming a Body of

ORIGINAL AND ELEGANT LITERATURE.

What though no marble breathes-no canvas glows,

From every point a ray of genius flows!

Be our's to bless the more mechanic skill,

That stamps, renews, and multiplies at will;

And cheaply circulates through distant climes

The fairest relic of the purest times.

ROGERS.

ORIGINAL PAPERS.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE CHARACTER AND STYLE OF BEPPO.

THIS poem has been regarded with a more favourable eye than, perhaps, its intrinsic merit is deserving of, from the circumstance of its being the first attempt of the author in that playful and satirical style he afterwards shone so pre-eminently in. Although the story is, most likely, familiar to the minds of many of our readers, yet, for the sake of the accompanying embellishment, we will refresh their memories with its chief incident. Giuseppe, or, for the sake of brevity, Beppo, a Venetian mariner, has a very handsome wife, whom he leaves to herself upon going a voyage, which his calling imposes upon him. He remains, however, so long abroad, that the lady, fearful, as we suppose, of forgetting her matrimonial duties, consoles herself with a substitute for her spouse, or, in the poet's term, 66 a vicehusband." While the happy couple are enjoying the carnival at Venice, the real "Simon Pure," Beppo, who, since his departure, had been in slavery, makes his appearance, and claims the lady as his lawful property. The parties, however, "are too good friends to separate," and agree upon a compromise, the lady enjoying both husbands, and the husbands her charms individually.

It

Slight as the materials are of which it is composed, the noble author. has managed to produce a very pleasant and entertaining trifle. displays a lively imagination, and, in many passages, a considerable portion of his acknowledged satirical powers. The flexibility of the versification, and the happy knack of finding the most remote rhymes, will always render Beppo a favourite.

It will be difficult to meet with a passage that is written with more apparent gaiety and playfulness of fancy than the following stanzas, VOL. II.29.

--

B

SECOND SHEET OF No. 29.

with which the poem opens. They possess, indeed, some violation of prosody, and bear evident proof of the carelessness of the author's mind; but these faults are rendered excusable by the happy turn of the periods, and its general fluency of language.

"Tis known, at least it should be, that throughout

All countries of the Catholic persuasion,
Some weeks before Shrove Tuesday comes about,
The people take their fill of recreation,
And buy repentance, ere they grow devout,

However high their rank, or low their station,
With fiddling, feasting, dancing, drinking, masquing,
And other things which may be had for asking.

"The moment night with dusky mantle covers

The skies, (and the more duskily the better),
The time less liked by husbands than by lovers
Begins, and prudery flings aside her fetter;
And gaiety on restless tiptoe hovers,

Giggling with all the gallants who beset her;
And there are songs and quavers, roaring, humming,
Guitars, and every other sort of strumming.

“And there are dresses splendid, but fantastical,
Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews,
And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical,
Greeks, Romans, Yankee-doodles, and Hindoos;
All kinds of dress, except the ecclesiastical,

All people, as their fancies hit, may choose,
But no one in these parts may quiz the clergy;
Therefore take heed, ye Freethinkers! I charge ye.
"You'd better walk about begirt with briars,
Instead of coat and small-clothes, than put on
A single stitch reflecting upon friars,

Although you swore it only was in fun :
They'd haul you o'er the coals, and stir the fires
Of Phlegethon with every mother's son ;

Nor say one mass to cool the cauldron's bubble

That boil'd your bones, unless you paid them double.”

Laura and the

The following extract is from whence the subject of the plate is taken, and with it we shall conclude our remarks. Count, her protector, are at the carnival; and while she

"thus was seen and seeing, smiling,
Talking, she knew not why, and cared not what,
So that her female friends, with envy broiling,
Beheld her airs and triumph, and all that;
And well-drest males still kept before her filing,
And passing bow'd and mingled with her chat;
More than the rest one person seem'd to stare
With pertinacity that's rather rare.

"He was a Turk, the colour of mahogany;
And Laura saw him, and at first was glad,
Because the Turks so much admire philogyny,
Although their usage of their wives is sad.
Tis said they use no better than a dog any

Poor woman, whom they purchase like a pad ;
They have a number, though they ne'er exhibit 'em,
Four wives by law, and concubines ad libitum.'"'

QURIKA. Paris. Chez l'ADVOCAT. 1824.

The

AT Paris, "Ourika" is a kind of talisman, that excites both the high and low, and rich and poor. You hear of nothing but "Ourika bonnets," and "Ourika dresses." In short, all Paris is "Ourika" mad, so great an interest has this little story excited. Mr. Irving's popularity here was nothing to it. We have examined its merits minutely, and really are not able to discern any thing that could interest our neighbours the other side of the water so warmly. Its principal character is simplicity, quite different, as we all know, from the usual French taste; and, therefore, its success is more surprising. story is founded in the times of the French Revolution. The heroine, Ourika, is a negress, who has been brought up in the family of the Chevalier de B. She tells her story herself, in the intervals of disease, to her medical attendants, and represents herself as being considered the personification of a union of the Muses and Graces. In short, if it was not for her unfortunate complexion, she would be nothing less than a divinity. This affords her a constant source of disquietude: the reflections that are caused on her first becoming acquainted with her unfortunate drawback are worth quoting :

"Oh, how I felt my whole existence changed! How lost I was when the illusions I had so constantly dwelt in vanished! They resembled the light of day, and when they fled, utter darkness succeeded.So great was the confusion of my mind under the new thoughts that assailed it, that not one of my usual ideas ever occurred to me. I was struck with terror. To be an object of pity to the world! not to be fit for the rank I lived in! perhaps to meet with a man, who, for the sake of money, would consent to have negro children! These thoughts kept rising successively over my mind, pursuing me like phantoms. But the bitterest of all, was the certainty of belonging to no one in the world. To be alone! ever and for ever alone! Madame de B. had owned it, and I repeated the words over and over. What cared I to be alone but a few minutes before? I knew it not, I felt it not; I had need of the beings that I loved, but I was unconscious of their not wanting me. Now my eyes were opened, and with misfortune came mistrust into my soul.

"When I returned to Madame de B.'s apartment, every body was struck with the change in my appearance. I pretended to be ill, and was believed. Madame de B. sent for her physician, Barthez, who felt my pulse, questioned me carefully, and then abruptly declared that nothing ailed me. This quieted the uneasiness of my benefactress

about my health; but she sought every means of diverting my mind. I dare not own how little gratitude I felt for her care. My heart seemed withered in itself. As long as it had received favours with pleasure, it gladly acknowledged the benefit; but now, filled with the bitterest feelings, it had no power to expand. My days were spent in the same thoughts, differently combined and under various forms, but still the blackest my imagination could invent. Often were my nights passed in weeping. I exhausted my whole pity upon myself; my face was becoming odious to me; I no longer dared to look in a glass, and my black hands struck me with horror. They appeared to me like a monkey's. I dwelt upon the idea of my ugliness, and my colour appeared to me the sign of my reprobation: it was that alone which separated me from the rest of my fellow-creatures, and condemned me to live alone, and never to be beloved. That a man should, perhaps, consent for the sake of money to have,negro children! My blood rose with indignation at the idea. I thought for a moment of entreating Madame de B. to send me back to my own country; but even there I should have felt isolated. Who would have understood me? Who would have sympathized with my feelings? Alas! I belonged to no

one-1 was estranged from the whole world !"

In the midst of all her afflictions, she, however, contrives to fall in love; the object of her affection is Charles, the grandson of her protector. His fortunes, he being of the Royalist cause, are much injured by the events of the tragic epoch the story is founded in; and, for the sake of bettering them, listens with avidity to a proposal of marriage with a young lady of splendid fortune. The distress of poor Ourika, when she discovers that her attachment is hopeless, is, perhaps, among the best passages of the tale.

66

Days and months passed on thus. I took no share in conversation. My talents were neglected. The only books I could endure were those in which a feeble picture of my own sufferings was traced. I fed upon these poisons-I feasted on my tears, and remained shut up in my room whole hours, giving way to them.

"The birth of a son completed the measure of Charles's happiness. He came, his heart overflowing with joy, to give me the news, and I recognised in the expression of his delight some of the accents of his former confidence. It was the voice of the friend that I had lost, and brought painful remembrances back with it. The child of Anais was as beautiful as herself. Every body felt moved at the sight of this tender young mother and her sweet infant. I alone beheld them with bitter envy. What had I done that I should have been brought to this land of exile? Why was I not left to follow my destiny? Well, if I had been the negro slave of some rich planter, sold to cultivate his land, and exposed all day to the burning heat of the sun, still, when evening toils were over, I should have found repose in my humble came, and my cottage; I should have a sharer in them, a companion through life, and children of my own colour to call me mother! They would have pressed their infant lips upon my cheek without disgust, and lain their little heads to sleep upon my bosom. Why am I never to experience the only affection my heart was made for? Oh, my God! take me, I beseech thee, from this world-1 cannot, cannot endure life any longer!"