secret retirements of nature. She comes, in all her simplicity, and all her solitary majesty, unaccompanied by the adventitious splendours of fancy, the grotesque chimeras of astonishment, and the terrific forms of superstition. When we understand nature, what becomes of apparitions, of witchery, of prophecy, and the inspiration of genius? Genius may now be divided into an enthusiasm caught from nature, and an enthusiasm received from art. The enthusiasm from nature is distinguished by its facility, celerity, and vividness; sufficient to form an ardent effusion in the early periods of society. Such are the relics of all ancient poetry. But as the sphere of poetical invention must then be very circumscribed, there is, in such compositions, a recurrence of the same objects and ideas. Man creates by imitation; but he creates little in the infancy of society, because he has scarcely any thing to imitate. When we examine the effusions of the bards, the wild poetry of the Indians, and even Ossian, who received many modern embellishments, we perceive that paucity of ideas natural at this period of society. A diversity of genius becomes more distinguishable as taste becomes more exquisite. One kind is peculiar to this age; the genius of several can now be made to produce an original one. A student, to borrow an expression from chemistry, amalgamates the characteristics of preceding masters. The history of the orders in architecture is the history of genius. We have first the rude Tuscan, then the chaste Doric, the elegant Ionic, the light Corinthian; till at length appears the Composite, uniting these varieties. Models are now proposed by critics, for art is now suspended on a point; if by our dexterity we preserve not the equilibrium, if we pass or decline from the point, we slide into barbarism. In vain some daring spirits scorn the mandates of taste; time is the avenger of neglected criticism. At this period some, enamoured of the illusive idea of original powers, pretend to draw merely from the fountains of nature. Úneducated artists occasionally appear among the lower occupations of life, who are immediately received as original geniuses. But it is at length perceived, that the genuine requisites of poetry, at this period of refinement, are not only beyond their reach, but often beyond their comprehension. These inspired geniuses have never survived the transient season of popular wonder, and generally derive their mediocrity from the facility of consulting the finished compositions of true genius. I know of no exception to this observation. Nor must we conceive that that vein of imitation, which runs through the works of great artists, is a mechanical process. By an intense study of preceding masters, they are taught the enchantments of art; marvellous and exquisite strokes which only glimmer in nature. A fine copy of nature affects their organs more than a real scene. On examination, it will be found, that the most capital productions of our first artists are really composed in this manner. Raphael borrowed as freely from other painters as Milton from other poets. It may now be inquired, that, since we acknowledge there are causes which may disable a genuine student from acquiring genius, what is gained by this new system? We reply, a useful knowledge of truth, and a contempt for that popular prejudice, which ever echoes the pernicious notion, that an artist must be born with a peculiar genius or intellec tual construction. An ardent youth is soon dismayed at the first difficulties of art, be cause he easily imagines that a maxim which has been so long received as incontestable is therefore incontrovertible. I believe that the success of an artist oftener depends on good luck than on organization Aristotle has said, that to become eminent in any profession three things are requisite; nature, study, and practice. How often does it be come necessary to erase the word nature, and supply its place by good fortune! We often lose much when we inform a young artist, that he must have been born a poet, or a painter; since it is impossible to decide whether he is born such unless he practises the arts; and it is certain that no excellence in art can be acquired without long and unwearied industry. Artists who have evinced nothing of this birthright in their early attempts, have sometimes concluded by being great artists. In dustry, whether it consist in an incessant exercise of the faculties, by meditating on the labours of others, or in observations on what passes around us, is the surest path of fame; but such intervening obstacles as may oppose our progress are in the power, not of philosophy, but of fortune. For the Literary Magazine. MILITARY CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. BY those who are so much prejudiced against Bonaparte as to deny him talents, because he is without virtue, the success of his last campaign in Italy has been ascribed merely to an oversight of his opponent; for they say, that had not general Melas too much despised his strength, and even disbelieved his having entered Italy at the time he did, he would have opposed him much earlier, and prevented his concentering his forces so as to meet the Austrians on the fatal day of Marengo; but they who talk thus allow him to have performed things incredible; that he assembled, and brought over the Alps, an army which it was thought could have hardly been formed; they allow him to have exceeded all that could be supposed of him, even by those who were able to estimate his talents. The honour of the battle of Marengo has been also wrested from him, and attributed wholly to Dessaix; but even supposing Bonaparte to have committed a fault by suffering Dessaix's division to have been so far behind, a circumstance he could not avoid, as the Austrians attacked him so early; yet is it not the highest proof of talents to retrieve an error, once committed, and to take advantage of the errors committed by others? which was the case when Bonaparte availed himself of Melas's mistake, in extending his wings, and thus weakening his main force. The fact is not less singular than true, that the Austrians would not believe that he was in Italy; they said, that some fellow resembling him had taken his name and collected together a parcel of brigands; but that it was impossible he could have passed the Alps with an army, when he was only a few days before in France; and even Melas himself, in an intercepted letter written to his mistress at Pavia, observes, "They say, in Lombardy, that a French army has entered Italy; but don't be afraid; and on no account leave Pavia." In twelve hours after, the French were in that very city. For the Literary Magazine. CONSUMPTION IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA, WITH CAUTIONS RESPECTING IT. THE ravages committed by consumption have been of late displayed to the public eye in the most alarming colours; yet the picture is not overcharged, and there is even reason to suspect that the evil is daily increasing: for the disease is perpetually invading new families, while it is never found to cease in the old ones, unless by rendering them extinct. This inference is deducible from the work of Dr. Heberden, on the increase and decline of diseases; since he found, by tak ing the average of periods of ten years in the beginning, middle, and end of the last century, that the number of deaths from consumption increased in a regular and rapid progression. Medical experience in America teaches the same melancholy lesson. The lessons of wisdom on this point, which every parent should learn, are these. 1. If either side have been consumptive, use the earliest precautions, and do not relax, under peril of attending your daughter in her shroud, instead of her wedding gar ments. 2. Should she escape, see if she owe not her preservation to some other standing disorder. 3. Your son's chance will be better, by how much he is more robust, and the less he is exposed to hardships without the most gradual seasoning. 4. Though consumption have not been on either side, the chance, without an anti-phthisical regimen, is still bad. Two or three colds upon colds in winter, or a cutting blast in spring will do the business; and in the mean time, there shall be wretched health almost to a certainty. 5. Set not your heart upon accomplishments, elegant or literary. Book-learning should be the least concern of the delicately constituted. Living instruction turns out its pupils not only stouter but abler. 6. When a Son or daughter droops between fourteen and thirtyfour, suspect that a secret enemy is sapping the lungs. 7. When those, who must be ignorant of the essential difference between a common cold and consumption, boast of their cures, hear but heed them not. Ask this question of your common sense-what experience can instruct such pretenders? 8. A little cough may be the sign of a great disease. Beware then how you play the doctor's part. Would you consent to be turned blindfold into an apothecary's shop, and give your child the first drug you may lay your hands on? 9. It is wise to check a bad cold the first week; but much wiser the first four and twenty hours. 10. After the small-pox, hoopingcough, scarlet-fever, and measles, watch your young convalescent close. If he bark but once, fear lest there be a murderer within. 11. Though dislodged, expect him again; he now knows the way. 12. You think perhaps a single course of medicine ought to be effectual, and that once cured is cured for good. But nature, be assured, will not be regulated by your fantasies; you have probably been acting in defiance of her for years, and then you may think yourself happy to compound with her on her own terms. 13. The less consumptive any one is rendered in the rearing, the greater chance of recovery if he be comes so. 14. When consumption is hanging about a girl, the distance between the marriage bed and the grave is usually short with her. The husband, if he do not become a widower soon after the birth of the first child, may reckon upon a perpetually ailing wife. For the Literary Magazine. RUSSIAN BAPTISM. ON the eighth day, the child is carried to the church to receive its name; the name of the saint that day in the kalendar should, according to the rules of the church, be given to the child, and such, for the most part, is the practice; though sometimes, in compliance with families desirous of keeping up their name, the priest gives another. The church does not teach that the infant is put under the protection of his name-sake saint, yet it is the notion of the common people. The number of sponsors is not li mited, and they uniformly practise the trine immersion to denote the mystery of Christ's three days burial. By the infant's being thrice lifted out of the water, the resurrection on the third day is signified. The baptism is followed by the chrism, or sacred unction; and the priest, at the request of the parents, usually hangs a little cross of gold or silver round the infant's neck, which some, especially of the lower class, hold in great veneration. For the Literary Magazine. RUSSIAN MARRIAGE. AS soon as the liturgy is ended, the priest, standing within the sanctuary, the couple to be married stand before the holy door, the man on the right, the woman on the left; their two rings are placed on the right hand side of the holy table, near each other: then the priest signs the couple on the head thrice, gives them lighted tapers, and incenses them cross-wise. After the benediction prayers, the priest gives one ring to the man, and the other to the woman, and saith to the man: The servant of God is betrothed to the handmaid of God, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, now and for ever, even unto ages of ages, amen. And to the woman: The handmaid of God is betrothed to the servant of God, &c, &c. Having said this to each of them thrice, he signs them on the forehead with the rings, and then puts them on the forefinger of the right hand of each; then follows the second ceremony, which is properly the marriage, and is called the of fice of matrimonial coronation. This is done in token of the triumph of continence. Formerly these crowns were garlands of flowers; but now they have in all churches crowns of silver, or other metals, kept for that purpose. These crowns are held by some of the assistants over their heads, while the priest takes them by the hand, and turns them about in a circle three times, while he repeats the troparions. The third ceremony is that of dissolving the crowns on the eighth day; after which the bride is conducted to the bridegroom's house, immediately to enter on the care of his family. For the Literary Magazine. LES POESIES LEGERES. THE poesies legeres are not, as their title would appear to import, merely compositions of a light and gay turn, but are equally employed as a vehicle for tender and pathetic sentiments. They are never long, for they are consecrated to the amusement and delight of society. Their subjects are innumerable; but is required, that since the author is allowed to sport in small extent, and on a variety of topics, that the indescribable power of originality give a value to the little production. The author should appear to have composed them for his pleasure, not for his glory; and he should charm his readers, while he seems careless of their approbation. The versification cannot be too refined, melodious, and glowing; it should display all the graces of poetry. Every delicacy of sentiment must find a corresponding delicacy of style, and every tenderness of thought must be softened by the tenderest tones. Nothing trite or trivial, either in the expression or the thought, must unfeeble and chill the imagination; nor must the ear be denied its gratification by a rough or careless verse. In these works nothing is pardoned; a word may disturb, a line may destroy the charm. The passions of the poet may form the subjects of his verse. In these writings he delineates himself; he deposites here his tastes, his desires, his humours, his amours, and even his defects. In other poems the poet disappears under a feigned character; here alone he speaks, here he acts. He makes a confident of the reader, interests him in his hopes and in his sorrows; we admire the poet, and conclude with esteeming the man. In these effusions the lover may not unsuccessfully urge his complaints. They may form a compliment for a patron, or a congratulation for an ar tist; a vow of friendship, or a hymn of gratitude. These poems have often with great success displayed pictures of manners; domestic descriptions are ever pleasing, and it is here that the poet colours his scenes with all the hues of life and the variations of nature. Reflections must, however, be artfully interwoven in a compressed and rapid manner. Moral instruction must not be a mplified; these are pieces devoted to the fancy; and while reflection is indulged, the imagination feels itself defrauded; a scene may be painted throughout the poem; a sentiment must be conveyed in a verse. In the Grongar-Hill of Dyer we discover some strokes which may serve to exemplify this criticism. The poet, contemplating the distant landscape observes, A step methinks may pass the stream, Moral reflections, which are usually obvious and tedious, if thus rapidly struck off contrast with great beauty the lighter and more airy parts. It must not be supposed that because these productions are concise they have, therefore, the more facility; we must not consider the genius of a poet diminutive because his pieces are so; nor must we call them, as a fine sonnet has been called, a laborious trifle. A circle may be very small, and yet as beautiful and mathematically perfect as a larger one. To such compositions we may apply the observation of an ancient critic, that though a little thing gives perfection, yet perfection is not a little thing. The poet, to succeed in these hazardous undertakings, must be an amiable voluptuary; alike polished by an intercourse with the world as by the studies of taste; to whom labour is negligence, refinement a science, and art a nature. Genius will not be sufficient to impart that grace of amenity, which seems peculiar to those who are accustomed to elegant society. Many of the French nobility who cultivated poetry have, therefore, oftener excelled in these poetical amusements than more professed poets. France once delighted in the amiable and ennobled names of Nivernois, Boufflers, and St. Aignan; they have not been considered as unworthy rivals of Chaulieu and Bernard, of Voltaire and Gresset. But these productions are more the effusions of taste than genius; and it is not sufficient that the poet is inspired by the muse, but he must also suffer his concise page to be polished by the hand of the graces. All the minor odes of Horace and all Anacreon are compositions of this kind; effusions of the heart or pictures of the fancy, produced in the convivial, the amatory, and the pensive hour. The English nation has not always been successful in these performances; they have not been kindred to it's genius. With Charles II, something of a gayer and more airy taste was communicated to poetry; but it was desultory, incorrect, and wild. Waller, both by his habits and his genius, was well adapted to excel in this lighter poetry; and he has often attained the perfection which the state of the language then permitted. Prior has a variety of sallies; but his humour is sometimes gross, and his versification is sometimes embarrassed. He knew the value of these charming pieces; and he had drank of this burgundy in the vineyard itself. He has some translations and some plagiarisms; but some of his verses to Chloe are eminently airy and pleasing. A di |