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triumph, followed by the blessings and admiring acclamations of the crowd, was Narenor now led in infamy, pursued by the curses and taunts of the fickle populace-many of whom were asking of one another the offence of their ci-devant idol. The place of destination was (as the reader may have supposed) a court of justice, where Narenor was somewhat surprised to find himself confronted with his little fat friend, Peter Breslau. "So Mynheer Breslau, (said the worshipful the Judge) you are ready to swear that you received this counterfeit money from the prisoner at the bar."-" Yes, your Worship."-"For what service on your part did you receive the money?" ?""For drawing up a genealogy, please your Worship." "And the prisoner assured you that he was of the noble family of De Senliz ?" "Undoubtedly, my Lord-your Worship!" "A most fraudulent fellow, indeed! (exclaimed the serene Judge.) And, pray, did any one see his Baronship give you the purse?" "My son, here!" (replied Peter, pushing forward a little Peter," the soften'd image of his fubsy sire.")" My good lad, (said the Judge) can you swear that you saw that gentleman, or person, at the bar, give this money to your father?" "Yes, (replied the young Peter,' manfully,) I'll swear I did!" "A clear case, indeed! (pursued the learned Judge.) And pray, Mr. Baron, what have you to say in your defence?" "Nothing! (exclaimed Narenor, proudly and indignantly) Nothing!" "That's good!—And pray, have you any reason to give why the law should not pronounce, and execute her just sentence upon you?". "None! (cried Narenor, still more impatiently.) But if I am to be hanged—at least string up that Peter Breslau, by the side of me; for a greater knave never existed.” "Hold your profane tongue, wretch! (replied the very reverend the Judge.) Dare not to asperse an honest citizen of this honourable town, who is above reproach. Your doom is fixed!Officers, carry him away! See that he is safely lodged in the Blue Tower, for to-night. To-morrow, the law pronounces, that he be hanged by his neck, like a common malefactor!"

Left alone, in chains, and in a solitary dungeon, Narenor gave way to all the bitterness of despair. The cup of happiness had been dashed from his lips at the very moment when he was about to quaff it mantling to the brim. He cursed his destiny, himself, the old man, and his fatal gift, of which the dishonourable use that he had been tempted to make had reduced him to his present situation. He now, too late, remembered the words of the old sage of the forest, who had warned

him that whenever he should employ to base purposes the transmuted gold, it should return to its original metal. "Fool that I was (he exclaimed, as he clanked his heavy fetters along the dully-echoing cell.) Oh, that I had been content with my native deformity and obscurity! And thou, vile old man!— why didst thou pamper my diseased appetites ?-Oh that thou wert less of a shade, and that I had thee here to tear thee limb from limb!" "Narenor! you are unjust! (said the sage, who at that moment appeared) I gave you fair warning! Remember that it was only in compliance with your own earnest wish that I bestowed on you those wondrous endowments, of which you have made so bad a use. However, for once the conditions attached to my gifts will be of use to you. The fit of rage in which you have just indulged has caused your person to resume its natural conformation, and when the guards appear with to-morrow's dawn, to lead you forth to execution, they will take you for another; only be careful not to speak, nor even to seem to understand what is spoken; imitate the gestures and behaviour of one born deaf and dumb, and assume the unconscious gaze of harmless idiotcy. To-morrow, long ere this hour you will be free. Farewell! Though you are so much out of humour with me at present, I think that it will not be long ere you again require my services." 66 Never, never!" exclaimed Narenor, as the old man vanished into the depths of the dungeon's darkness ! "Welcome this mis-shapen form, the mask of security-the herald of unambitious tranquillity! Welcome, my native poverty-the only true state of happiness!-the only part on the great theatre of life which is not all delusion and bitter mockery!"

END OF PART FIRST.

[To be concluded in the next Number.]

287

THE BROAD STONE OF HONOUR*.

THIS is in all respects an extraordinary work; in matter, manner, and purpose, strongly contrasted with the generality of modern publications. Its object is to delineate at full the character of a gentleman, or man of honour, as it was understood in the ages to which it owes its origin, and as it has been defined by the best authorities; to obviate the prevailing objections against the chivalrous system; and by precepts, statements, and examples adapted to the purpose, to re-animate, as far as lies in the author, the almost extinct spirit of ancient chivalry. The opinions, again, which are here maintained on a great variety of subjects, are such as, though not altogether obsolete, are held by very few at this day to the extent they are here promulgated. Nor is the manner in which these doctrines are enforced less alien to modern ideas. There is no air of method, no laborious chains of reasoning, no sarcasm, no rhetorical paragraphs, or brilliant sentences; none of those passages which the critic finds so convenient for quotation; but which, when detached from the main work, are calculated to mislead the reader as to its general character. In place of these we have earnest and impassioned exhortations, simple enunciations of truth, appeals to authority, dogmatical assertions of general maxims, resting for their truth on an appeal to the heart and moral sense of the reader, and backed by an infinity of quotations from writers of all descriptions, many of which must at first sight appear equally novel in themselves and in their application. Finally, the style, in this age of exaggeration, is plain, unassuming, and even careless, so as to appear occasionally deficient in common connexion; and the language is interwoven with obsolete words and phrases, so as to give a partially antique cast to the whole composition.

From the above description it may appear at first sight that the author is not entitled to any higher designation than that of a well-meaning, though somewhat wrong-headed, humoristsuch as are to be found in all ages and situations, and whose eccentricities are calculated rather to gratify curiosity, than to awaken any more enduring kind of interest; and that his book deserves notice, if at all, only as a phenomenon-a singular anomaly in modern literature-an embodied anachronism. Such an impression, however, would be far indeed from the

* The Broad Stone of Honour; or, Rules for the Gentlemen of Eng land. 2d. Edit. Rivington.

truth. Decision and self-consistence, in whatever cause, will command attention. There is something so congenial to the human mind in the assured possession of truth, that even the appearance of it in others excites interest, be the opinions what they may; and he who speaks from a deep and full conviction, necessarily possesses a hold on the sympathies of his hearers, even in cases where the obnoxious nature of the communication renders this exertion of sympathy painful and revolting. Nor are the doctrines here delivered at all so extravagant and indefensible as the words may seem to imply. Chivalry, with the author, is not a thing of time, place, class, or circumstance, though it is affected in some degree or other by all these; but one to which all may attain, and in which all are therefore interested. His idea of a gentleman, moreover, includes much more than is meant by the popular acceptation of that term. It is not, as the author of Table-Talk, with his usual mixture of acuteness and prejudice, of striking truth and wilful error, has defined it, a compound of certain vices and certain (so called) virtues, overlaid with a peculiar undefinable manner, forming a character of imperfect symmetry, founded upon no stable principles of reason, and originating in a certain state of society; still less is he inclined to accede to the degrading definition of Paley: with him it is a perfect whole, comprehending in it all the various elements of excellence all that is just in conduct, pleasing in manner, graceful in sentiment, or sublime in principle. Assuming the innate sense of honour for his basis, he deduces from thence a scheme of heart and conduct conformable in all points to its origin ; this he presents to us as the theory of honour, such as it was professed, and to a great extent acted upon, in the ages of chivalry; and this he contrasts with the very opposite models laid down by those later moralists, upon whose dogmas the faith and manners of the modern world are either wholly or in part founded. A subject of such importance, touching the very springs of our duties, our feelings and our enjoyments, cannot be other than interesting, if treated with tolerable ability. The work before us is recommended likewise by its tone of morality, which is high and uncompromising, yet far removed from stoicism or vulgar prudery; for the united copiousness and beauty of its quotations, in which it has no rival among modern publications; for its sublime and pathetic incidents, and its living pictures of ancient manners. But its principal, or at least its distinguishing charm, is the view which it affords us of the author's own mind. It would be difficult to point out a work bearing so deeply the impress of benevolence and singleness of heart; a work undertaken from motives so pure, so free from ambition, interest, vanity, or

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the spirit of partisanship. It is indeed a striking example of the importance of being fully possessed by a great purpose. He is far from insensible to the ridicule with which opinions like his are accustomed to be received by the world in general; he is fully awake to it, and yet it never shakes the tranquillity of his persuasion, or induces him to suppress or soften any the smallest article in his system. He has thus achieved the most difficult of all triumphs; a triumph which the consciousness of a good cause is not sufficient to effect, unless when united with a deep and earnest zeal for its promotion. Nor is he less proof against the influence of talent, and the fascination of a name, when opposed to his own ideas of right; and there is something even sublime in the contempt with which he regards mere intellect, even though indefinitely superior to his own, when dissociated from honour and religion. The same fixedness of purpose is visible throughout. Solicitous only about grand principles,-anxious for the sympathy of the reader, and not for a triumph over his understanding,-he is at no pains to establish unimportant points, or obviate petty inconsistencies. No one was ever less a stickler for minutiæ; no one was ever more averse to the controversial spirit, or more free from cant, pettiness, and egotism of all kinds. He is too full of his subject to think of himself. In this latter respect he stands remarkably contrasted with another writer, among the first of his age in point of intellect, if not the very first; and the scope of whose writings is in some important respects the same, whose perpetual hesitations, qualifications, fears of giving offence, deprecations of calumny, and complaints of personal neglect, together with the eagerness with which he stoops to pick up every scrap of praise from writers far inferior to himself, harmonize but ill with the grandeur of his philosophy, the generosity of his sentiments, the magnificence of his conceptions, and the life-breathing beauty of his illustrations.

The above eulogy may perhaps appear a little exaggerated, owing to the difficulty which writers sometimes experience of expressing their whole meaning, without expressing more than they mean. Nor do we deny that our praise is subject to some considerable deductions, of which this is not the time to speak, as we are not now giving a character of the performance, but our reasons for considering it worthy of comment in a work necessarily so select in its choice of subjects for critical notice. For criticism, indeed, in the ordinary sense of the term, it is not well adapted. It speaks too much to the heart, and too little to the head; it contains too few of those things on which criticism loves to expatiate, and of

VOL II. PART II.

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