HOLCROFT.] ENGLISH LITERATURE. rated by the existing institutions of society. There are some good sketches, and many eloquent and just observations, in the work, and those who have read it in youth will remember the vivid impression The political doctrines that some parts are calculated to convey. inculcated by the author are captivating to young minds, and were enforced by Holcroft in the form of well-contrasted characters, lively dialogue, and pointed satire. He was himseif a true believer in the practicability of such an Utopian or ideal state of society. The song of Gaffer Gray,' in Hugh Trevor,' which glances ironically at the inhumanity of the rich, has a forcible simplicity and truth in par ticular cases, which made it a favourite with the public. Gafer Gray. Ho! why dost thon shiver and shake, And why does thy nose look so blue? Then line thy worn doublet with ale, And warm thy old heart with a glass. Hie away to the house on the brow, And knock at the jolly priest's door. But ne'er gives a mite to the poor, The lawyer lives under the hill, Warmly fenced both in back and in front And will threaten the stocks, Should he ever more find me in want, The squire has fat beeves and brown ale, And the season will welcome you there. And his merry new year, Are all for the flush and the fair, My keg is but low, I confess, What then? While it lasts, man, we'll live, When he hears the poor moan, Of his morsel a morsel will give, Well-u-day! Holcroft wrote another novel, 'Bryan Perdue,' but it is greatly inferior to his former productions. His whole works, indeed, were eclipsed by those of Godwin, and have now fallen out of notice. ROBERT BAGE. Another novelist of a similar stamp was ROBERT BAGE, a Quaker, who, like Holcraft, imbibed the principles of the French Revolution, and inculcated them in various works of fiction. Bage was born at Darley, in Derbyshire, on the 29th of February 1728. His father was a paper-maker, and his son continued in the same occupation through life. His manufactory was at Elford, near Tamworth, where he realised a decent competence. During the last eight years of his life, Bage resided at Tamworth, where he died on the 1st of September 1801. The works of this author are- Mount Kenneth,' 1781; 'Barham Downs,' 1784; The Fair Syrian,' 1787; James Wallace,' 1788; Man as He is,' 1792; Hermsprong, or Mán as He is Not,' 1796. Bage's novels are decidedly inferior to those of Holcraft, and it is surprising that Sir Walter Scott should have admitted them into his British Novelists,' and at the same time excluded so many superior works. Barham Downs' and Hermsprong' are the most interesting of the series, and contain some good satirical portraits, though the plots of both are crude and defective. SOPHIA AND HARRIET LEO. These ladies, authoresses of The Canterbury Tales,' a series of striking and romantic fictions, were the daughters of Mr. Lee, a gentleman who had been articled to a solicitor, but who adopted the stage as a profession. Sophia was born in London in 1750. She was the elder of the sisters, and the early death of her mother devolved upon her the cares of the household. She secretly cultivated, however, a strong attachment to literature. Sophia's first appearance as an author was not made till her thirtieth year, when she produced her comedy, The Chapter of Accidents,' which was brought out at the Haymarket Theatre by the elder Colman, and received with great applause. The profits of this piece were devoted by Miss Lee towards establishing a Seminary for young ladies at Bath, which was rendered the more necessary by the death of her father in 1781. Thither, accordingly, the sisters repaired, and their talents and prudence were rewarded by rapid and permanent success. In 1784, Sophia published the first volume of The Recess, or a Tale of other Times;' which was soon followed by the remainder of the tale, the work having instantly become popular. The time selected by Miss Lee as the subject of her story was that of Queen Elizabeth, and her production may be considered one of the earliest of our historical romances. 'The Recess' is tinged with a melancholy and contemplative spirit; and the same feeling is displayed in her next work, a tragedy entitled Almeyda, Queen of Grenada,' produced in 1793. In the succeeding year, Harriet Lee published the first volume of The Canterbury Tales,' which ultimately extended to five volumes. Two only of the stories were written by Sophia Lee-namely, 'The Young Lady's Tale, or the Two Emily's,' and The Clergyman's Tale.' They are characterised by great tenderness and feeling. But the more striking features of 'The Canterbury Tales,' and the great merit of the collection, belong to Harriet Lee. Kruitzner, or the German's Tale,' fell into the hands of Byron when he was about fourteen. It made a deep impression upon me,' he says, and may indeed be said to contain the germ of much that I have since written.' While residing at Pisa in 1821, Byron dramatised Miss Lee's romantic story, and published his version of it under the title of Werner, or the Inheritance.' The incidents, and much of the language of the play, are directly copied from the novel, and the public were unanimous in considering Harriet Lee as more interesting, passionate, and even more poetical, LEE.] ENGLISH LITERATURE. 'The story,' says one of the critics to than her illustrious imitator. whom Byron's play recalled the merits of Harriet Lee, is one of the most powerfully conceived, one of the most picturesque, and at the same time instructive stories, that we are acquainted with. Indeed, thus led as we are to name Harriet Lee, we cannot allow the opportunity to pass without saying that we have always considered her works as standing upon the verge of the very first rank of excellence; that is to say, as inferior to no English novels whatever, excepting those of Fielding, Sterne, Smollett, Richardson, Defoe, RadWaverley." It would cliffe, Godwin, Edgeworth, and the author of The Canterbury Tales" not, perhaps, be going too far to say, that exhibit more of that species of invention, which, as we have already remarked, was never common in English literature, than any of the works even of those first-rate novelists we have named, with the single exception of Fielding. "Kruitzner, or the German's Tale," possesses mystery, and yet clearness, as to its structure, strength of characters, and, above all, the most lively interest, blended with, and subservient to, the most affecting of moral lessons. The main idea which lies at the root of it is the horror of an erring father, who, having been detected in vice by his son, has dared to defend his own sin, and so to perplex the son's notions of moral rectitude, on finding that the son in his turn has pushed the false principles thus instilled to the last and worst extreme-on hearing his own sophistries flung in his face by a murderer.'* The short and spirited style of these tale, and the frequent dialogues they contain, impart to them something of a dramatic force and interest, and prevent their tiring the patience of the reader, like too many of the three-volume novels. In 1803, Miss Sophia Lee retired from the duties of her scholastic establishment, having earned an independent provision for the remainder of her life. Shortly afterwards she published 'The Life of a Lover,' a tale which she had written early in life, and which is marked by juvenility of thought and expression, though with her usual warmth and richness of description. In 1807, a comedy from her pen, called 'The Assignation,' was performed at Drury Lane; but played only once, the audience conceiving that some of the satirical portraits were aimed at popular individuals. Miss Harriet Lee, besides 'The Canterbury Tales,' wrote two dramas, The New Peerage,' and 'The Three Strangers.' The plot of the latter is chiefly taken from her German tale. The play was brought out at Covent Garden Theatre in December 1835, but was barely tolerated for one night. A tablet is erected to the memory of these accomplished sisters in Her Clifton Church-where they are buried-from which it appears that Sophia Lee was born in May 1750, and died March 13, 1824. • Blackwood's Magazine, vol. xii. sister, Harriet Lee-who long resided in the neighbourhood of Bristol, a valued and respected lady-was born April 11, 1766, and died August 1, 1851. Introduction to The Canterbury Tales."' There are people in the world who think their lives well employed in collecting shells; there are others not less satisfied to spend theirs in classing butterflies For my own part, I always preferred animate to inanimate nature; and would rather post to the a tipoces to mark a new character, or develop a singular incident, than become a Fellow of the Royal Society by enriching museums with nondescripts. From this account you, my gentle reader, may, without any extraordinary penetration, have discovered that I am among the eccentric part of mankind. by the courtesy of each other, and themselves, ycleped poets-a title which, however mean or contemptible it may sound to those not honoured with it, never yet was rejected by a single mortal on whom the suffrage of mankind conferred it: no though the laurelleaf of Apollo, barren in its nature, was twined by the frozen fingers of Poverty, and shed upon the brow it crowned her chilling influence. But when did it so? Too often destined to deprive its graced owner of every real good by an enchantment which we know not how to define, it compr. hends in itself such a variety of pleasures and possessions, that well may one of us cry Thy lavish charter, Taste, appropriates all we see! Happily, too, we are not like virtuosi in general, encumbered with the treasures gathered in our peregrmations. Compact in their nature, they lie all in the small cavities of our brain, which are, indeed, often so small, as to render it doubtful whether we have any at all. The few discoveries I have made in that richest of mines, the human soul. I have not been churl enough to keep to myself; nor. to : y truth, unless I can find out some other means of supporting my corporeal existence than arimal food, do I think I shall ever be able to afford that sullen affectation of superiority. Travelling. I have already said is my taste; and. to make my journeys pay for themselves, my object. Much against ny good liking, some troublesome fellows, a few months ago, took the liberty of making a little home of mine their own; nor, till I had coined a small portion of my brain in the mint of my worthy friend George Robinson, could I induce them to deport. I gave a proof of my politeness. however, in leaving my house to them, and retired to the coast of Kent, where I fell to work very busily. Gay with the hope of shutting my door on these unwelcome visitants. I walked in a severe frost froin D al to Dover, to secure a seat in the stagecoach to London One only was vacant; and having engaged it. maugre the freezing of the bitter sky 'I wandered forth to note the memorabilia of Dover, and was soon lost in one of my fits of exquisite abstraction. With reverence I looked up to the cliff which our immortal hard has, with more faney then truth, described; with toil mounted by an almost end'ess staircase, to the top of a castle, which added nothing to my poor stock of idens but the length of our Virgin Queen's pocket-pistol--that truly Dutch present: cold and weary, I was preing towards the inn, when a sharp-visaged barber popped his head over his shopdoor to re onnoitre the inquisitive stranger. A brisk fire, which I suddenly cast my ey on. invited my frozen bands and feet to its precincts. A civil question to the hon st man produced on his part a civil invitation; and having placed me in a snug seat, he readi y gave me the benefit of all his oral tradition. 'Sir,' he said.it is mighty lucky you came across me. The vulgar people of this town have no genius. sir-no taste; they never shew the greatest curiosity in the place Sir, we have here the tomb of a poet ! The tomb of a poet !' cried I. with a spring that electrified my informant no less than myself. What poet Ees here ? and where is he buried ?" Ay, that is the curiosity, returned he exultingly. I smiled; his distinction was go 1ke a barber. While he had been sp aking, I recollected he must allude to the grave of Churchill-that vigorous gufus who, well calculated to stand forth the champion of freedom, has recorded himself the slave of party and the victim of spleen! So. however, thought not the barber, who considered him as the first of human beings. "This great man, sir.' continued he, who lived and died in the cause of liberty, is interred in a very remarkable spot sir; if you were not so co'd and so tired, sir, I could show it you in a moment Curiosity is an excellent greatcoat; I forgot I h... 10 other, and strode after the barber to a spot surrounded by ruined walis, in the mast of which stood the white marble tablet marked with Churchill's name-to appearance its only distinction. Cast your eyes on the walls,' said the important barber; they once inclosed a church as you may see!' O inspecting the crumbling ruins more narrowly, I did indeed discern the traces of Gothic architecture. Yes, sir.' cried my friend the barber. with the conscious pride of an Englishman, throwing out a gaunt leg and arm. Churchill, the champion of liberty, is interred here! Here, sir, in the very ground where King John did homage tor the crown he disgraced.' The idea was grand. In the eye of fancy, the slender pillars again lifted high the vaulted roof that rang with solemn chantings. I saw the insolent legate seated in scarlet pride; I saw the sneers of many a mitred abbot; I saw, bareheaded, the man, the prostrate king: I saw, in short, everything but the barber, whom, in my flight and swell of soul. I had ontwalked and lost. Some more curious traveller may aga n pick him up. perhaps and learn more minutely the fact. Waking from my reverie. I found myself on the pier. The pale beams of a powerless sun gilt the fluctuating waves and the distant spires of Calais, which I now clearly surveved What a new train of images here sprung up in my mind, borne away by succeeding impressions with no less rapidity! From the Monk of Sterne I travelled up in five minutes to the inflexible Edward III. sentencing the noble burghers; and having seen them saved by the eloquence of Philippa I wanted no better sasoning for my matton-chop, and pitied the empty-head d peer who was stamping over my little parlour in fury at the co k for having over-roasted his pheasant, The coa han now showed his ruby face at the door, and I jumped into the stage, where were already seated two passengers of my own sex, and one of-would I could say the fa rer! But, though truth may not b spoken at all times, even upon paper, one now and then may do her justice" if a glance discovered that the good lady opposite to me had never been hand-om, and now added the injuries of time to the severity of nature. Civil but cold compliments having pissed. I closed my eyes to expand my soul; and, while fabricating a brief po tical history of England, to help short memories, was something astoni-hed to find myself tugged violently by the sleve; and not less so to see the coach empty, and hear an obstinate waiter insist upon it that we were at Canterbury, and the supper ready to be put on the table. It had snowed I found, for some time; in consideration of which mine host had prudently suffered the fire nearly to go out. A.dim candle was on the table, without snuffers, and a bell-string hanging over it, at which we pulled, but it had long ceased to operate on that noisy convenience Alas, poor Shenstone! how often, during these excursions, do I think of thee. Cold, indeed, must have been thy acceptation in society, if thou couldst seriously say: Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Had the gentle bard told us that, in this sad substitute for home, despite of all our impatience to be gone, we must stay not only till wind and weather, but landlords. postillions and hosters choose to permit, I should have thought he knew more of Travelling; aud stirring the fire, shuffing the candles, reconnoitering the company, and modifying my own humour, should at once have tried to n ake the best of my situation. After all he is a wise man who does at first what he must do at last; and I was just breaking the ice on finding that I had nursed the fire to the general satisfaction, when the coach from London added thre to our party; and common civility obliged those who came first to make way for the yet more frozen travellers. We supped tog ther; and I was something surprised to find our two coachmen allowed us, such ample time to enjoy our little bowl of punch; when lo! with dolorous countenances, they came to give us notice that the snow was so heavy, and already |