profanation and pollution into private families, and into the hearts of individuals.

His Lordship has thought it not unbecoming in him to call me a scribbler of all work. Let the word scribbler pass; it is not an appellation which will stick, like that of the Satanic School. But, if a scribbler, how am I one of all work? I will tell Lord Byron what I have not scribbled what kind of work I have not done. I have never published libels upon my friends and acquaintance, expressed my sorrow for those libels, and called them in during a mood of better mind-and then re-issued them, when the evil spirit, which for a time has been cast out, had returned and taken possession, with seven others, more wicked than himself. I have never abused the power, of which every author is in some degree possessed, to wound the character of a man, or the heart of a woman. I have never sent into the world a book to which I did not dare affix my name; or which I feared to claim in a court of justice, if it were pirated by a knavish bookseller. I have never manufactured furniture for the brothel. None of these things have I done; none of the foul work by which literature is perverted

Of the work which I have done, it be comes me not here to speak, save only as relates to the Satanic School, and its Coryphous, the author of Don Juan. I have held up that school to public detestation, as enemies to the religion, the institutions, and the domestic morals of the country. I have given them a designation to which their founder and leader answers. I have sent a stone from my sling which has smitten their Goliah in the forehead. I have fastened his name upon the gibbet, for reproach and ignominy, as long as it shall endure. Take it down who can !

One word of advice to Lord Byron before I conclude. When he attacks me again, let it be in rhyme. For one who has so little command of himself, it will be a great advantage that his temper should be obliged to keep tune. And while he may still indulge in the same rankness and virulence of insult, the metre will, in some degree, seem to lessen its vulgarity. ROBERT SOUTHEY. Keswick, January 5, 1822.

THE novel of Valerius, is the story of a sojourn in Rome, during a portion of the reign of Trajan. The present popularity of novels, was probably the author's inducement to exert, on a fictitious tale, the powers and the literature which might have distinguished him as the historian of a period among the most eventful, interesting, and magnificent of all history. Yet, with a great example before him, he has not followed it implicitly; he may have been a worshipper, he is not a slave. The multitude have trod with feeble frequency in the very track levelled by the triumph of the Scottish Novellist. The writer of Valerius has trod fresh ground, and turned away from the common illustration of life, within his own shores, to the remote and stately record of manners among the imperial people of the Old World. This he has done with force and with fidelity; and the reader of Valerius will find himself led on through the public and private habits of Rome, with the elegance of romance, and the vigour of history. Works of this kind have been not unusual in Germany, but they have either wandered into extravagant fiction, or oppressed the fancy by laborious prolixity. Translations and imitations have occasionally appeared in English literature, but they had no internal strength, they appealed to none of the feelings that give life and

living honour to fiction, and they went down to the common oblivion of useless industry.

Valerius is the son of a Roman officer, settled in the Roman colony in Britain, near, what is now, Winchester. His father had died, and, left him to the tutelage of his mother, who exercises her trust as becomes a Roman matron. But a lawsuit for a rich inheritance, compels the young Briton to leave "his woodland, through which the enormous deer stalked undisturbed, except by the adder of the grass, or the obscene fly of the thicket, its little patches of corn and meadow laboriously rescued from the domain of the wild beast, and the scattered hamlets of his own valley," for the crowd, the vices, and the gorgeousness of Rome. He bids farewell to his mother with filial tenderness, and with something like an anticipation, on her part, of its being a last farewell. With his spirits confused between the ardour of novelty and the melancholy of parting, he looks back on his paternal roof, embarks, and reaches the mouth of the Tiber.The voyage is briefly told. The author was capable of giving it a higher interest, but probably was reluctant to retard the more important narrative, to be created on the soil of Italy. Yet the first voyage of an accomplished and and vivid mind, over the strange and

When the heat of the sun was greatest, we pushed our bark into a little creek, where the boatmen rested themselves for a space from their labours; and we, along with the master, made an end of the provisions we had brought along with us. Having halted as long as we deemed expedient, we resumed our seats on the vessel; but the fervour of the atmosphere being much diminished, our canopy was no longer upheld. By degrees the shades of evening began to spread themselves over the east; but we did not see the sun for a long time previous to his setting, by reason of the hugeness of the trees, and their impervious foliage. Trees, and temples, and gardens, and meadows, and towns and villages, were, ere long, lost in one uniform sobriety of twilight; and it was already quite dark, when the Centurion, pointing to the left bank, said, Behold these gigantic willows, which dip their long boughs down into the water—these are the Gardens of Cæsar beyond, is the Portian Gate, and the street of the Rural Lares. In a few moments we shall see the lights of the Sublician Bridge, and be in the city.'

At these words I started up, and gazing forward, could already penetrate through the mists of evening into the busy glare of a thousand streets and lanes, opening upon the river. The old city wall, on the left side, was visible; where, after having swept round the region towards the Vatican and Janicular Hills, it brings the last of its turrets close down to the Tiber, over against the great dock-yards by the field of Brutus.

Its shadow lay in frowning darkness, far out upon the stream, and we glided for some minutes in silence beneath the influence of the venerable rampart. Through a forest of triremes, galleys, and all sorts of craft, we then shot on to the bridge-be

neath the centre arch of which, our steersman conducted us. Beyond, such was the hum of people on the quays, and such the starlike prófusion of lights reflected in the water, that we doubted not we had already reached the chief seat of the bustle of Rome. the huge bulk of the theatre of Marcellus On, however, we still held our course, till rose like a mountain on our right. It was there that we ran our bark into the shore, not far from the little bridge the third as you ascend the river-which conducts to the Island and the Temple of Esculapius. While our friend was settling matters with the master, and the boatmen were bringing out our baggage, I stood for a little space by myself, in silence, on the elevated quay. Below me lay the bark, in which Boto and the Centurion were still engaged. Here am I alone, I might almost say to myself, in the greatest city of the world-not one of whose inhabitants I have ever, so far as I know, conversed with. Up and down, whereever my eye fell, it rested on some bright spot in the river, answering to some light in bark, or edifice, kindled by hands, and for purposes, to which I was equally a stranger. Here a long tier of reflected radiance bespoke, it may be, the vicinity of some splendid portico of palace, or temple, or bath, or theatre; there a broad and steady blaze of burning red, indicated the abode of artizans, resolved, as it seemed, on carrying their toil into the bosom of the night. Between--some small single speck of tinier lustre, betrayed, perhaps, the lamp of the solitary student, or the sober social hour of some peaceful family, assembled around the hearth of their own modest lares. Behold me, then, said I, in the capital of the globe. Alas! were I to be swallowed up this moment in the waves of Tiber, not one of all these lights would be dimmed by reason of my calamity."

After this striking night-glance at the glories of the Imperial City, we are introduced to one of its living characters, Licinius, the pleader, to whom the conduct of the lawsuit had been entrusted. The description of this eloquent and ambitious personage is admirably graphic.

"I found him in a small upper chamber, lighted by a single silver lamp, suspended from the roof, enjoying, as it appeared, repose and relaxation after the exertions which he had been making during the anterior part of the day. He was reclining at table when I entered; and although supper was long over, some fruits and other trifling things still remained on the board. At table with him there was no one present, excepting a certain rhetorician or philosopher, whom he introduced to me as the superintendant of his son's education, and the young Sextus himself, a modest and ingenuous youth, who sat at the lower extremity of his father's couch. He was indeed a very mild and amiable young man,

fabric of arcades, high over all the remains of that forest of elms and sycamores, by which Nero had once dared to replace the unhoused tenants of the Palatine. Behind me, the Flavian Amphitheatre, the newest E and the most majestic of all Roman edi*fices, detained the eye for a space from all that lay beyond it the whole splendid mass, namely, of the Esquiline-and those innumerable aqueducts which lie stretched out, arch after arch, and pillar after pillar, quite over the peopled champaign to the very ridge of the mountains. But why should I vainly essay to give to you, by cold words of description, any idea of the peerless prospect that every where sur rounded me! Lost amidst the pomp of this unimagined human greatness, I was glad to rest my sight, ever and anon, upon the cool waters of old Tiber, in whose face nothing of all this was truly depicted, except the serene and cloudless beauty of that Italian sky; temple and tower, and every monument of art, being mellowed down into a softer and more tolerable grandeur." There is a love story even in this early part of the novel, and Valerius is made the confidant of young Sextus, whom he accompanies to the Forum. The pleadings in this celebrated place have strong attraction for the new curiosity of the stranger. Licinius displays all his powers; is impassioned, touching, sarcastic; and Valerius receives, for the first time, the full conviction of the supremacy of eloquence. His feelings suggest some striking observations on the means and objects of this noble accomplishment. But his companion has a deeper interest at stake than is to be found in the periods of the orator, and he draws Valerius away to the Suburban Villa, where "smiles his lady and his love."

1

"A sharp walk of about an hour and a half brought us within sight of the Suburban of Capitol. A lofty wall protected the fields of this retirement from the intrusive eyes of passengers on the public road, over whose summit nothing could be discovered but the tall green boughs of planes and sycamores waving to and fro in the gentle agitation of the western breeze. We entered by a small side-door, and immediately found ourselves, as if by some magical delusion, transported from the glare of a Roman highway, and the hum of men, into the depth and silence of some primeval forest. No nicely trimmed path conducted our feet through the mazes of this venerable place. Every thing had at least the appearance of being left as nature had formed it. The tall fern rustled beneath us as we moved; the untaught ivy was seen spreading its careless tresses from tree to tree overhead; the fawn bounded from the thicket, and the scared owl screamed on the pine top. By degrees,

however, the gloom lessened around us as we approached the mansion itself, till at length, over an open space of lawn, we perceived the simple but elegant porch of entrance, and the line of colonnade that extended all along that front of the building. We passed under the porch, and across a paved court, in which a fountain was playing, into the great hall, the windows of which commanded all the other side of the place-a most noble prospect of elaborate gardens gradually rising into shady hills, and lost in a distance of impenetrable wood. Here a freedman attended us, who informed us that Capito had retired from the house into a sequestrated part of the grounds with some friends from the city; but that if we chose we could easily join him there. We asserted, and, following his guidance, ere long traversed no narrow space of luxuriant cultivation. From one perfumed terrace we descended to another; till, having at last reached a certain green and mossy walk, darkened all its length by a natural arching of vines and mulberries, the freedman pointed to a statue at the further end of it, and told us it stood over against the entrance

When we

reached the statue, however, we could not of his master's summer-house. at first perceive any traces of a summerhouse. The shaded avenue terminated in face of a precipitous rock, from which there fell a small stream that was received beneath in a massive basin, where its waters foamed into spray without transgressing the margin. A thousand delicious plants and farsought flowers clustered around the base of the rock and the brink of the fountain, and the humming of innumerable bees mingled with the whispers of the stream. We stood

for a moment uncertain whether we should move on or retire, when we heard some one calling to us from the centre of the rock; and presently, passing to the other side of the basin, descried, between the rock and the falling water, a low entrance into what seemed to be a natural cave or grotto. We stooped, and passing its threshold found ourselves within one of the most luxurious retirements that was ever haunted by the foot of Dryad. A sparry roof hung like a canopy of gems and crystals over a group of sculptured Nymphs and Fawns, which were placed on a rustic pedestal within a circular bath, shaped out of the living stone. Around the edge of the waveless waters that slumbered in this green recess, were spread carpets rich with the dyes of Tyrian art, whereon Capito was reposing with his friends. He received Sextus with the warmest kindness, and me with distinguished politeness, intro-, ducing us both to his companions, who were three in number-all of them, like himself, advanced in years, and two of them wearing long beards, though their demeanour was destitute of any thing like the affected stateliness of our friend Xerophrastes. These two, as our host informed us, were Greeks and Rhetoricians-the third, a Pa

trician of the house of Pontii, devoted, like himself, to the pursuits of philosophy, and the pleasures of a literary retirement." The young Briton here first sees the arbiter of his fate.

she

"We advanced to meet the young ladies, who were walking slowly down the avenue, and their uncles having tenderly saluted them, soon presented us to their notice. Sextus blushed deeply when he found himself introduced to Sempronia, while, in her smile, although she looked at him, as if to say had never seen him before, I thought I could detect a certain half-suppressed expression of half-disdainful archness-the colour in her cheeks at the same time being not entirely unmoved. She was, indeed, a very lovely girl, and in looking on her light dancing play of beautiful features, I could easily sympathize with the young raptures of my friend. Her dress was such as to set off her charms to the utmost advantage, for the bright green of her Byssine robe, although it would have been a severe trial to any ordinary complexion, served only to heighten the delicious brillancy of hers. A veil, of the same substance and colour, was richly embroidered all over with flowers of silver tissue, and fell in flowing drapery well nigh down to her knees. Her hair was almost entirely concealed by this part of her dress, but a single braid of the brighest nut-brown was visible low down on her polished forehead. Her eyes were black as jet, and full, as I have already hinted, of a nymph-like or Arcadian vivacity-altogether, indeed, she was such a creature as the Tempe of the poets need not have been ashamed to shelter beneath the most luxurious of its bowers.

"The other young lady—it is Athanasia of whom I speak-she was not a dazzling beauty like Sempronia, but beautiful in such a manner as I shall never be able to describe. Taller than her cousin, and darker haired than she, but with eyes rather light than otherwise, of a clear, soft, somewhat melancholy grey and with a complexion for the most part paler than is usual in Italy, and with a demeanour hovering between cheerfulness and innocent gravity, and attired with a vestal simplicity in the old Roman tunic, and cloak of white cloth-it is possible that most men might have regarded her less than the other; butfor my part, I found her aspect the more engaging the longer I surveyed it. A single broad star of diamonds, planted high up among her black hair, was the only ornament of jewelry she wore, and it shone there in solitary brightness, like the planet of evening. Alas! I smile at my self that I should take notice of such trifles, in describing the first time I ever gazed on Athanasia."

With this stately beauty, Valerius falls in love. A brilliant contrast to her beauty, gravity, and dignity of heart, is given in the portrait of a Ro

man widow, with whom Valerius and his friends sup.

On his return from the luxurious supper of this handsome and opulent entertainer, his Prætorian companion, Sabinus, visits the prison of an old Christian convert, who is to be exposed next day in the bloody sports of the Amphitheatre. Valerius attends him to the dungeon, and is overwhelmed with surprise at the discovery that Athanasia has visited the old man, and prayed with him. This clears up the mystery of that embarrassed sadness, which had made all her movements so inexplicable to the lover's eye. She is a concealed Christian. Her zeal, her feminine fear, and her divine courage, impress her countenance with perplexing and powerful emotion. He recognizes her at the dungeon-gate, and excited by the resistless feeling which he cannot define, visits the old mar¬ tyr. He finds him resigned and reso¬ lute, prepared to die, and rejoicing that his death is for Christianity. Oppressed by awe, pity, and wonder, Vaferius returns, and sees that the night has passed away in the cell

"I had a pretty accurate notion of the way from that grand edifice to the house of Licinius, and therefore moved to wards it immediately, intending to pass straight down from thence into the Sacred" Way. But when I came close to the Amphitheatre, I found that, surrounded on all sides by a city of sleep and silence, that region was already filled with all manner of noise and tumult, in consequence of the preparations which had began to be made for the spectacles of the succeeding day. The east was just beginning to be streaked with the first faint blushes of morning; but the torches and innumerable lanterns, in the hands of the different workmen and artificers employed there, threw more light than was sufficient to give me an idea of all that was going forwards. On one side, the whole way was blocked up with a countless throng of waggons; the conductors of which, almost all of them Ethiopians and Numidians, were lashing each other's horses, and exchanging, in their barbarous tongues, violent outcries of, I doubt not, more barbarous wrath and execration. The fearful bellowings that resounded from any of the waggons, which happened to be set in motion amidst the choaking throng, intimated that savage beasts were confined within them; and when I had discovered this, and then regarded the prodigious mul- horror came over me at thinking what cruel titude of the waggons, I cannot say what sights, and how lavish in cruelty, were become the favourite pastimes of the most refined or peoples. I recognized the well