The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 395, October 24, 1829

The Selector; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

A PORTRAIT, BY MISS LANDON

FROM "THE VENETIAN BRACELET, AND OTHER POEMS," (JUST PUBLISHED)

 
"O No, sweet Lady, not to thee
That set and chilling tone,
By which the feelings on themselves
So utterly are thrown,
For mine has sprung upon my lips,
Impatient to express
The haunting charm of thy sweet voice
And gentlest loveliness.
A very fairy queen thou art,
Whose only spells are on the heart.
 
 
The garden it has many a flower,
But only one for thee—
The early graced of Grecian song,
The fragant myrtle tree;
For it doth speak of happy love,
The delicate, the true.
If its pearl buds are fair like thee,
They seem as fragile too;
Likeness, not omens; for love's power
Will watch his own most precious flower.
 
 
Thou art not of that wilder race
Upon the mountain side,
Able alike the summer sun
And winter blast to bide;
But thou art of that gentle growth
Which asks some loving eye
To keep it in sweet guardianship,
Or it must droop and die;
Requiring equal love and care,
Even more delicate than fair.
 
 
I cannot paint to thee the charm
Which thou hast wrought on me;
Thy laugh, so like the wild bird's song
In the first bloom-touch'd tree.
You spoke of lovely Italy,
And of its thousand flowers;
Your lips had caught the music breath
Amid its summer bow'rs.
And can it be a form like thine
Has braved the stormy Apennine?
 
 
I'm standing now with one white rose
Where silver waters glide
I've flung that white rose on the stream—
How light it breasts the tide!
The clear waves seem as if they loved
So beautiful a thing;
And fondly to the scented leaves
The laughing sunbeams cling.
A summer voyage—fairy freight;—
And such, sweet Lady, be thy fate!"
 

WATERLOO

Three volumes of tales and sketches of considerable graphic interest, have lately been published under the title of "Stories of Waterloo." The first inquiry will naturally be whether they throw any new lights on the ever-memorable struggle. The details of the day are vividly sketched, and as they must be familiar to all our readers, the following excellent general observations will be appreciated:—

"No situation could be more trying to the unyielding courage of the British army than their disposition in square at Waterloo. There is an excited feeling in an attacking body that stimulates the coldest, and blunts the thought of danger. The tumultuous enthusiasm of the assault spreads from man to man, and duller spirits catch a gallant frenzy from the brave around them. But the enduring and devoted courage which pervaded the British squares, when, hour after hour, mowed down by a murderous artillery, and wearied by furious and frequent onsets of lancers and cuirassiers; when the constant order—'Close up!—close up!' marked the quick succession of slaughter that thinned their diminished ranks; and when the day wore later, when the remnants of two, and even three regiments were necessary to complete the square which one of them had formed in the morning—to support this with firmness, and 'feed death,' inactive and unmoved, exhibited that calm and desperate bravery which elicited the admiration of Napoleon himself.

"There was a terrible sameness in the battle of the 18th of June, which distinguishes it in the history of modern slaughter. Although designated by Napoleon 'a day of false manoeuvres,' in reality there was less display of military tactics at Waterloo than in any general action we have on record. Buonaparte's favourite plan was perseveringly followed. To turn a wing, or separate a position, was his customary system. Both were tried at Hougomont to turn the right, and at La Haye Sainte to break through the left centre. Hence the French operations were confined to fierce and incessant onsets with masses of cavalry and infantry, generally supported by a numerous and destructive artillery.

"Knowing that to repel these desperate and sustained attacks a tremendous sacrifice of human life must occur, Napoleon, in defiance of their acknowledged bravery, calculated on wearying the British into defeat. But when he saw his columns driven back in confusion—when his cavalry receded from the squares they could not penetrate—when battalions were reduced to companies by the fire of his cannon, and still that 'feeble few' showed a perfect front, and held the ground they had originally taken, no wonder his admiration was expressed to Soult—'How beautifully these English fight!—but they must give way!'"

The closing scene is then described with great animation:—

"The irremediable disorder consequent on this decisive repulse, and the confusion in the French rear, where Bulow had fiercely attacked them, did not escape the eagle glance of Wellington. 'The hour is come!' he is said to have exclaimed; and closing his telescope, commanded the whole line to advance. The order was exultingly obeyed: forming four deep, on came the British:—wounds, and fatigue, and hunger, were all forgotten! With their customary steadiness they crossed the ridge; but when they saw the French, and began to move down the hill, a cheer that seemed to rend the heavens pealed from their proud array, and with levelled bayonets they pressed on to meet the enemy.

"But, panicstruck and disorganized, the French resistance was short and feeble. The Prussian cannon thundered in their rear; the British bayonet was flashing in their front; and, unable to stand the terror of the charge, they broke and fled. A dreadful and indiscriminate carnage ensued. The great road was choked with the equipage, and cumbered with the dead and dying; while the fields, as far as the eye could reach, were covered with a host of helpless fugitives. Courage and discipline were forgotten, and Napoleon's army of yesterday was now a splendid wreck—a terror-stricken multitude. His own words best describe it—'It was a total rout!'

"But although the French army had ceased to exist as such, and now (to use the phrase of a Prussian officer) exhibited rather the flight of a scattered horde of barbarians, than the retreat of a disciplined body—never had it, in the proudest days of its glory, shown greater devotion to its leader, or displayed more desperate and unyielding bravery, than during the long and sanguine battle of the 18th. The plan of Buonaparte's attack was worthy of his martial renown: it was unsuccessful; but let this be ascribed to the true cause—the heroic and enduring courage of the troops, and the man to whom he was opposed. Wellington without that army, or, that army without Wellington, must have fallen beneath the splendid efforts of Napoleon.

"While a mean attempt has been often made to lower the military character of that great warrior, who is now no more, those who would libel Napoleon rob Wellington of half his glory. It may be the proud boast of England's hero, that the subjugator of Europe fell before him, not in the wane of his genius, but in the full possession of those martial talents which placed him foremost in the list of conquerors—leading that very army which had overthrown every power that had hitherto opposed it, now perfect in its discipline, flushed with recent success, and confident of approaching victory."

ANNUALS FOR 1830

1. The Juvenile Forget-me-not. Edited by Mrs. S.C. Hall.

2. The Amulet. By Mr. S.C. Hall.

The tone and temper of these two works—to us the first fruits of "the Annuals" are excellent, as their literary execution is admirable. The first has innumerable attractions for the young; its pleasantness consists in simplicity and truth, whilst its narratives of the playful incidents of childhood are interspersed with "good seed," and precept and pretty illustration spring up in every page. The second work, the Amulet, is calculated for maturer age, and its literary pretensions are consequently of a more advanced order: but of these we shall speak more at length on a future occasion. Our intention in coupling the works at the head of this slight notice is to express our high esteem of the taste which has dictated the scholar and the gentleman in the production of the Amulet, and his ingenious lady in the "delightful task" of writing and catering for those of tender growth, in the Juvenile Forget-me-not. The association is indeed delightful, and has all the interest of a family picture: it beams with affection and parental love, truth, and nature; and happy, thrice happy, must be the union that is crowned with so amiable an intercommunity of mind.

The first few pages of the Juvenile Forget-me-not are very appropriately occupied by a playful paper by the late Mrs. Barbauld, the sincerity and tenderness of whose Lessons and Hymns we have never forgotten even amidst all the cares and crosses of after life. How often and how fondly too have we lingered over their delightful pages; and it may be questioned whether any works ever produced a better or more lasting impression on the infantine mind—than these unassuming little volumes. Mrs. Barbauld's present article is entitled "the Misses, addressed to a careless girl"—as the Misses Chief, Management, Lay, Place, Understanding, Representation, Trust, Rule, Hap, Chance, Take, and Miss Fortune; the "latter, though she has it not in her power to be an agreeable acquaintance, has sometimes proved a valuable friend. The wisest philosophers have not scrupled to acknowledge themselves the better for her company, &c." Then follow some pleasing lines to "My Son, My Son," by Allan Cunningham, glorifying the bounty of Providence, "A Tale of a Triangle," by Mary Howitt, is a pretty school sketch. Next are some lines by James Montgomery, on Birds—as the Swallow, Skylark, &c. in all, numbering forty-five. "The Muscle," by Dr. Walsh, consists of half-a-dozen conversational pages, illustrating its natural history in a very pleasing style, which is really worth the attention of many who attempt to simplify science. Next Miss Mitford has a true story of "Two Dolls," and the author of Selwyn a pretty little story, entitled "Prison Roses;" Miss Jewsbury, "Aunt Kate and the Review;" and Mr. S.C. Hall a sketch of a "Blind Sailor"—both of which are very pleasing. "A Child's Prayer," by the Ettrick Shepherd, is a sweet and simple hymn of praise. "The Royal Sufferer," by Mrs. Hofland, follows, and gives the misfortunes of Prince Arthur in an interesting historiette.—We have only room to enumerate "The Birth-day," a sketch from Nature, by Mrs. Opie; an extremely well-drawn Irish sketch, by Mrs. S.C. Hall; and "The Shipwrecked Boy," a tale, by the author of Letters from the East.

The Engravings, twelve in number, are, for the most part, excellent. The Frontispiece—two lovely children—is exquisitely engraved by J. Thomson, as is also "Heart's Ease," by the same artist: the last, especially, is of great delicacy. "Holiday Time," from Richter, is well chosen for this delightful little work.

Altogether, we congratulate the fair Editoress on the very pleasing, attractive, and useful character of her volume for the coming season; and as that for the previous year did not reach us early enough for special notice at the time of publication, we are happy to make the amende, by placing the Juvenile Forget-me-not first on our list of Annuals for 1830.

BURMESE BOAT-RACES

As the waters of the Irawadi begin to fall, a yearly festival of three days is held, consisting chiefly of boat-racing. It is called the Water-festival, of which we have the following account in Crawfurd's Embassy to Ava:—

"According to promise, a gilt boat and six common war-boats were sent to convey us to the place where these races were exhibited, which was on the Irawadi, before the palace. We reached it at eleven o'clock. The Kyi-wun, accompanied by a palace secretary, received us in a large and commodious covered boat, anchored, to accommodate us, in the middle of the river. The escort and our servants were very comfortably provided for in other covered boats. The king and queen had already arrived, and were in a large barge at the east bank of the river. This vessel, the form of which represented two huge fishes, was extremely splendid; every part of it was richly gilt; and a spire of at least thirty feet high, resembling in miniature that of the palace, rose in the middle. The king and queen sat under a green canopy at the bow of the vessel, which, according to Burman notions, is the place of honour; indeed, the only part ever occupied by persons of rank. The situation of their majesties could be distinguished by the white umbrellas, which are the appropriate marks of royalty. The king, whose habits are volatile and restless, often walked up and down, and was easily known from the crowd of his courtiers by his being the only person in an erect position; the multitude sitting, crouching, or crawling all round him. Near the king's barge were a number of gold boats; and the side of the river, in this quarter, was lined with those of the nobility, decked with gay banners, each having its little band of music, and some dancers exhibiting occasionally on their benches. Shortly after our arrival, nine gilt, war-boats were ordered to manoeuvre before us. The Burmans nowhere appear to so much advantage as in their boats, the management of which is evidently a favourite occupation. The boats themselves are extremely neat, and the rowers expert, cheerful, and animated. In rowing, they almost always sing; and their airs are not destitute of melody. The burthen of the song, upon the present occasion, was literally translated by Dr. Price, and was as follows:—"The golden glory shines forth like the round sun; the royal kingdom, the country and its affairs, are the most pleasant." If this verse be in unison with the feelings of the people, (and I have no doubt it is,) they are, at least, satisfied with their own condition, whatever it may appear to others."