'loved much.' His conduct both to Shelley and Coleridge was harsh. Possessed himself of a credo, he could not sympathize with the frantic, but sincere, struggles of one unhappily destitute of it. Enjoying perfect self-control, he had not sufficient allowance to make for one in whose nature it had been omitted, and who could as soon have acquired a new sense. His hinting to Cottle that he knew the whole of Shelley's early history (which he got from himself, communicated in the impetuous fulness of a nature which knew no disguise), and which he pronounces execrable,' was itself a piece of execrable meanness. His tone, too, in his Correspondence,' in reference to poor Coleridge, is stern, cold, and haughty, A little envy, we fear, too, is blended with his feelings both toward them and toward Lord Byron. He must have felt mortified to see Byron's brilliant pamphlets racing on through instant popularity to eternal fame before his eyes, while his own excellent, but bulky works, were so slowly gaining their way to a disputed immortality.

Finally, Southey was virtuous, but, perhaps, it had been better if his virtues had hung about him in softer and easier folds; if they had not been gathered in around him with such austere and Roman precision; and if they had rendered him more tolerant of the failings of others. His was a virtue the type of which we cannot say we have much desire to see perpetuated. Like his genius, it was sufficient for himself, but has had few followers. We want, now, not a man to fold his arms, to go apart from the crowd, to say, 'Stand by, I am holier than thou;' to stoop, when stoop he does, like a fancied god rather than an exalted man; we want one who shall willingly merge the Demi-god in the Brother, and seek rather to circulate than simply to preserve his character. We want not a sanctimonious Southey-but a sanctified, a Christian Shelley.

To lead a life is difficult; to write it well is not much easier. There are two great vices in biography-the one is the telling too much, and the other is the telling too little. Often, indeed, both are adroitly combined, and we find in one volume too much told that is non-characteristic, and too little told which stamps and marks the man. Give us, we cry, characteristic faults, rather than vague ascriptions of excellence, which wander round about the individual, but do not cling to him. Hence biographies are in general the falsest of books. Hence we would hail a whole library of Boswell's Lives,' when compared to the dead rattling leaves which, under the abused title of Biography, pour from the press. Had we time we might write an essay on the Art of Autobiography. That art lies not so much in the perfection of memory, nor in the depth of conscientiousness, nor in sincerity-although all these are valuable qualities-as in know

(0)

ledge of what are really our peculiar points, what is really strange, idiosyncratic, and worth recording about ourselves. Lives written on this principle would resemble museums; they the trivial and the common, and conserve

would, avoiding the raren 970AW JE 949 foi 97 cm of

only the valuable

Many autobiographers write as if, because they were confessedly extraordinary men, everything about them were deserving of record. Now, although very violent hero-worshippers might hereafter pick up their nail parings, it is not very seemly to do this themselves. Egotism of this kind is as disgusting in a great as in a small man. What matters it how a hero sneezes, unless it be on some preternatural scale; how he eats, unless his eating be, as in Johnson, a striking index of character; how he drinks, 'unless his drink be water, or unless, on the other hand, he can, like James Hogg, consume thirty tumblers of whisky punch at a sitting; at what games he played when a child, unless he had either invented them himself, or showed some of his aftergenius in their management. From how much vapid stuff would attention to this plain principle have delivered us unfortunate readers! if bra16 boring mood to 1 bed godt tr; eblog

1

Indeed, the truest autobiography is that which is unconsciously written, in familiar letters, synchronizing with the interesting passages of our lives. These are the works in which an author's life is best written, and is best read anim

"

Southey's fragmentary life of himself is far from being free from this common and crying sin. With many characteristic traits, it has much that, even as connected with such a man, has little or no interest. We are regaled, for instance, in page 55, with the following morceau: One very odd amusement was greatly in vogue at this school. It was performed with snail shells by placing them against each other, point to point, and pressing till the one was broken in or sometimes both. This was called conquering, and the shell which remained unhurt acquired esteem and value in proportion to the number over which it had triumphed, an accurate account being kept !

We give the following abstract of Southey's Life," so far as this volume extends, and shall then close by a remark on him as an autobiographer and correspondent.

Robert Southey was born in Bristol, on the 12th of August, 1774. His mother said afterwards, God forgive me! when I saw what a great red creature it was, covered with rolls of fat, I thought I should never be able to love him.' We have then a circumstantial account of his first" going to school; of the birth of his brothers and sisters, and of his cousin, Miss Tyler. He

1

#opi al es A very disgusting species of capacity we admit.

was inoculated under her care, and by her first introduced to the theatre. He was next sent as a day-scholar to several schools in Bristol, and then to one nine miles from it, at Corston. From this, where he spent a year, he passed to Bedminster, where he first began to love botany and entomology. He was next placed in a school in Bristol, and he recounts many interesting anecdotes about his experiences there, including some early poetical efforts. From thence he was removed to Westminster School, and with its recollections his autobiography closes. The chapters by his son detail his leaving Westminster; the wreck of his father's affairs, and his death, his admittance into Baliol College, Oxford, his philosophical speculations, the commencement of Joan of Arc,' his return to Bristol, his acquaintance with Mr. Coleridge, the formation of the grand scheme of Pantisocracy, the purchase by Mr. Cottle of his Joan of Arc,' his historical lectures, his misunderstanding with Coleridge, his marriage with Edith Fricker, his journey to Lisbon in search of health, his return to England, his going to London to study law, his residing again in the neigh bourhood of Bristol; and there the first volume leaves him. 1

Southey as an autobiographer is neither the most nor the least garrulous of his class. He tells his story here, as elsewhere, in an easy and animated style, sprinkled with an allowable quantity of anecdote and gossip. His correspondence, delectable in general, has ever and anon a slight touch of affectation and over-statement. Godwin," he says, as a man is very contemptible. Surely this is too strong. We know that he did not extemporize such works as Caleb Williams, that his conversation generally was beneath his other powers, and that, at one brief period of his life, he was rather clated by success; but a much acuter person than Southey, William Hazlitt, while criticising severely, never treats Godwin, as a private person, with contempt. In fact, Southey, as an unsuccessful candidate for the affections of Mary Wolstonceraft, was not a fair judge. I

Such errors and platitudes abound in his letters. But, on the whole, they are very readable and amusing. We wait their sequel with much interest. And, although the general tone of our remarks on Southey may scem severe, it does not interrupt our reverence for all the virtues he possessed, our love for his many pleasant and amiable qualities, and our admiration for a genius, which may be said to burn the brightest in the second story of the Temple of Fame. Der norbozubio e'divadl

ART. UI-1. A Synopsis of Criticisms upon those Passages of the Old Testament, in which modern Commentators have differed from the Authorized Version; together with an Explanation of various Diffi"culties in the Hebrew and English Texts. By the Rev. Richard Barrett, M.A., Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. Vol. II. Parts I. and II. Vol. III. Part I. London: Longman and Co. 2. Scholia Hellenistica in Novum Testamentum. Londini: Gulielmus Pickering 1848... * ་,,་་

We place both publications at the head of this article, as they are similar in design. We welcome every book which throws light on Scripture; and even when the pious intention has failed in effect, we are inclined to pardon the miscarriage for the sake of the motive. Not that we are disposed to be the patrons of mere pretension, lisping sciolism, or pious imbecility; but we have sympathy with all who bring to the illustration of the Bible, hearty labour, and modest erudition, united to soundness of judgment, and honesty of purpose. Their possession of an average amount of such qualifications has invited our attention to the books which Messrs. Barrett, and Grinfield, have given to the churches.

" ་ ་

The Bible resembles Him whom it exhibits to a fallen world as its Saviour. As Jesus was the GOD-MAN, SO Scripture has combined in its composition divinity and humanity. Heaven and earth meet in it-God's purposes are expressed in man's language. Majesty clothes itself in tenderness and love. Both these elements of the sacred books must be clearly understood and acknowledged. Each should enjoy its own prominence, What is divine, is to be adored and believed; what is of the earth, is to be studied and analyzed. In order to reach the truths which are of God, the diction in which they are clothed is to be carefully and minutely examined. The words are, indeed, from the Holy Ghost, but they have been framed in accordance with ordinary language. They are a correct and glowing vehicle of heavenly information. If, however, we neglect this proof of Jehovah's condescension, and looking only upon the divinity of Scripture, forget that its words obey the understood laws of grammatical flexion, we are apt to mistake its meaning, and be seduced by the senseless reveries of a hazy mysticism. Such opinions of Scripture, leading to correspondent methods of interpretation, may create a morbid pietism, but will not nurse a

'

genuine and healthful piety. When we are interdicted from dealing honestly with the words of Scripture because the thoughts are divine, we are victims of folly, under the name of veneration, and suffer from a fanaticism which at once mistakes the benignity of God and robs humanity of a precious blessing! Are we not to open the casket, to gaze upon that jewel of ethereal beauty that lies within it? A religious spirit, it is true, is indispensable to a correct knowledge of the words; but, in order to its efficiency, it must be associated with right reason, and vigorous judgment.With all reverence for the mind of God, the word of God must be treated according to the principles which regulate human speech. Holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, but they spake from such supernatural prompting in the dialects of earth. Words the ordinary vocables of common intercourse, were charged with conveying their awful communications. And amidst all this laborious industry upon the nouns, verbs, and particles of Scripture, our minds must be imbued with solemnity of feeling, and be blessed with a conscious superiority to prejudice and cherished opinions, else the process of interpretation may be vitiated and disturbed by the intermingling of foreign and unworthy elements.

But while the language of Scripture is of human use and adaptation, the divine truth expressed by it is to be received on God's authority. If there be an error in looking exclusively to the heavenly source of inspiration, and disregarding its earthly medium, it is no less deleterious and sinful to be so occupied on the human side and aspect of God's oracles as to forget that it is Jehovah who speaks. Shall the tones of his voice, so soft and sympathetic, only amuse us with such melancholy result that we are not sensible to the dignity and glory of the speaker? Then we are in danger of losing the pure idea of revelation, and of confounding it with the outpourings of luminous wisdom and exalted genius. Our criticism has exiled our faith-the authority of the oracle is undermined, and homage to its royal right degenerates into admiration of its logical precision, or rhetorical grandeur, or becomes a cold and formal review of its grammatical purity and historical accuracy. Belief is sublimated into æsthetics, or chilled into inanition by an icy philology. Critics acquire the habit of speaking of the historian's veracity, and the conclusivement of the apostle's argument, without any reference to the divine truthfulness which warrants the one and sustains the other. The predictions of the seer are lessened into the gorgeous imagination of the bard, and recorded miracles are branded as exaggerated prodigies. It is all the while forgotten that fall scripture is given by inspiration of Godthat the Bible declares itself to be a genuine embodiment of the Divine will and counsels,