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From The Saturday Review.
PAUL AND VIRGINIA.*

regular education, with a passion for animals, and a power like that which made the infancy THE author of Paul and Virginia was a of Hartley Coleridge so remarkable, of living man with a fixed idea. From boyhood to in a world, visionary and yet methodical, of old age he dreamt of founding a colony where his own. The great event of his early life nature was to be all beauty, and man was to was reading Robinson Crusoe. His imagine be all virtue. Strongly influenced by the tion was stimulated, and he soon invented an Utopian sentimentalism of the last century, island; but not content with the solitary existand avowing his belief, even under the Reign ence of his model, he peopled it with the sort of Terror, that the age of iron was past and of persons that he thought he should like to the age of gold coming-dissatisfied with a live with. Already in this boyish fancy we state of society in which his want of birth and see the germ of Paul and Virginia, where fortune, and his own impracticable temper the enchanted island that presents the scenery barred the way to advancement, and im- of the Isle of France is tenanted by persons pressed with a deep and lively sense of the who are lifelike but impossible. After attain wonders and the loveliness of the external ing some proficiency in mathematics, St. world-he spent his youth in purposeless Pierre was admitted as a pupil at the School wanderings and schemes beyond his strength, of the Ponts et Chaussées, and subsequently and his later manhood in creating. on paper entered the Corps of Engineers. He served what fact denied him. The idyl which has one campaign in Hesse, in 1760, but quar made him famous is but "a happy accident," relled with his superior officers; and, leaving among a number of works which are like it the French army, he went to offer his services in kind, though not in success. This slight to Catherine of Russia, and subsequently to tale owes its principal charm to the manner the King of Poland. He was vain and irasci in which it invests an Arcadian pastoral with ble, and nothing that he could obtain would the reality and interest of definite and un-content him; and as soon as he was appointed familiar scenery. It also charms us because to a post, he threw it up as unworthy of him. the melancholy, the love of solitude, and the In 1766 he returned to France, and after feeling of a bitter contrast between man and spending some time in soliciting and worrying nature that pervade it seem to come from a different Ministers, he was appointed Chief source deeper than sentimentalism, and ex- Engineer of the Isle of France. It is worth press at once the opinions vaguely held by observing that his first and most genuine imthe generation to which the writer belonged, pressions of that island had nothing in them and the intensity with which those opinions of that warmth of admiration which runs were held by the writer himself. On such a through the idealized picture he afterwards tale as Paul and Virginia criticism cannot gave to the world. In a series of letters say much. It pleases because it pleases. sent, or supposed to be sent, to a friend, he But still in this, as in every other work, we describes the scenery of the Isle of France; may find an interest-which may be called and these letters are full of regrets for the an interest of the second reading-in ex-flowers and fruits of Europe, and for the amining the relation it bears to the mind of

the writer and the literature of the time. The tale itself absorbs us when we read it for the first time, but on reperusing it we have leisure to inquire how it came to be written. To do this it is necessary to have before us the outline of the writer's life.

tranquil delights of rural France. "These livened by the singing of birds or by the loves savage scenes," he writes, "are never enof any peaceful animals. The ear is wounded with the croaking of paroquets, and the shrill cries of monkeys." In Paul and Virginia the birds have learnt to sing, the animals Bernardin de St. Pierre was born at Havre, make the tenderest love, and the monkeys in 1737, of a family which originally came are the fantastic and light-hearted children of from Lorraine, but which made pretensions, an abundant nature. In 1771, St. Pierre renot very precise nor very well founded, to turned to France, and began to form some descend from Eustache de St. Pierre of Calais. The anecdotes of his boyhood that have been handed down represent him as a child of little *Paul et Virginie. Par Bernardin de St. Pierre.

Paris. 1858.

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valuable literary friendships, and again to solicit the patronage of Ministers. With Condorcet and Rousseau especially he was on terms of intimacy; and feeling that literature

was his true vocation, he began to apply him- there is that great fundamental accuracy of self to a severe task, and, in 1784, published description, the success of which consists in his Studies of Nature. Poor and unknown as he was before this work was published, he "woke one morning" and found himself famous and provided for. The Studies suited the taste of the generation. Their gentle and vague piety, their true sensibility, even their faults, recommended them to the Court of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, to the numbers who believed themselves on the eve of a poetical change, and to the literary critics of that generation. In 1788, he published the fourth volume of the Studies, containing Paul and Virgiuia; and the beauty and delicacy of the tale made themselves felt at once. In spite of the Revolution, the rest of his life was prosperous. He was appointed intendants of the Jardin-du-roi; and in the year 3 of the Republic was installed as Professor of Morals in the Ecole Normale. He had also the domestic felicity of marrying in his old age two charming young wives, the more recent of whom subsequently married his idolizing biographer, Aimé Martin; so that he had even a posthumous good fortune. He died in 1814, his last work, the Harmonies, being published a few months after his death.

leaving on the mind of the reader a correct general impression of tropical nature, both in its terrific and in its calmer aspect. Of the solitary vastness of scenery where every thing is on so prodigal a scale, of a great force both as measured by time and by space acting everywhere, he has given us a representation which we feel to be true even before the testimony of travellers like Humboldt has assured us of its truth. This general truth of representation defies analysis. It is derived only from poetical genius, and we cannot say why it is there. But when we descend to particular pieces of description, we can then ask how far the degree of accuracy and of abundance of details is satisfactory or not. The poetical novelists of more recent times have certainly erred by the richness of detail which they have heaped on their descriptive passages. In Indiana, for example, where the same scenery is painted as in Paul and Virginia, we are fatigued and overcome by the lavish extravagance of descriptive language. In the English novels of the present day, we are apt to find, on the other hand, too large a measure of technical and prosaic accuracy. We have fatiguing lists of wildflowers with corHis taste for landscape beauty was indis-rect computations of their stamens and pistils, putably genuine, and his skill in choosing the and heaps of stones indexed according to characteristic features of scenery is manifestly their geological eras. St. Pierre goes as far based on the vividness of his own observa- in this minor kind of accuracy as it is safe to tions. Baron Humboldt says that Paul and Virginia was his constant companion in his tropical wanderings, and that he was repeatedly struck with the admirable truth of St. Pierre's representations. He especially mentions that a hundred times when the guides informed him that midnight was passed by looking at the position of the Southern Cross, he has called to mind the passage where the last interview of Paul and Virginia is broken up by the warning that the Southern Cross is beginning to near the horizon. St. Pierre belonged to that class of observers who find their own power of observation sufficient, and who reject as alien to their feelings any thing like minute and scientific analysis. Baron Humboldt stands almost alone as a man who has combined both the power of scientific inquiry and the poetical comprehension of nature as a whole. St. Pierre felt that for the purposes of poetry the observation of nature may be too minute. In Paul and Virginia

go. Sometimes, indeed, he exceeds it. When Virginia, for example, has a little money sent her, she buys all the different sorts of handkerchiefs, scarfs, shawls, and coarse cloths made in the Isle of France and the adjacent countries. There is something of an encyclopaedic fulness in this, but it is rare, and generally we have to admire both the moderation which limits the information given and the neatness with which the information is conveyed.

But it is not scenery alone that reigns su preme in Paul and Virginia—it is scenery as viewed with the eyes of a sentimentalist. Nature is regarded in connexion with the thoughts of man, and as deriving life and meaning from the tie. So far all poetical interpretation of nature must agree. But sentimental poetry narrows the range of feelings. aud thoughts which it sees reflected in, or illustrated by, the natural world. It takes cognizance only of the affections and of the

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associations which attach themselves to the mutual hatred of Europeans." Sometimes tenderer and softer side of life. Sentimental- the author even sinks into platitudes so absoism, therefore, when it is genuine and free lutely commonplace as the suggestion that from affectation, has a sphere in which it is the spirits of Paul and Virginia love to wanlegitimate, and it is only when it attempts to der over the "roofs of straw where industri bring the whole human life into its domain ous virtue dwells." But the great blot of the that it is faulty. The innocence of early book, if we wish to assign its place in idyllic years, the purity of young affection, the literature, is, that it is all out of the region of peaceful current of obscure happiness, may the possible, and that its reality is entirely find their counterparts and congenial acces- derived from the accuracy of the scenery. sories in the external world, as well as any These good and perfect inhabitants of the other portions or qualities of human exist- Happy Valley are not real human beings ence. It is the merit of Paul and Virginia They are not more like possible people tha that it elaborates this harmony ingeniously, Arcadian shepherdesses are like living keepers. evenly, and quietly. The cocoa-nuts which of flocks. The whole tale is colored by the mark the ages of the children, and the rapid theory, so prevalent in France when it was growth of the tree of which Virginia has written, that men would be perfectly good sown the seed just before her departure, and if left to the unperverted teaching of nature. which, by the suddenness of its gigantic Paul has attained a marriageable age when development seems to magnify the term of he asks his old friend what is virtue, and is her absence, are remarkable instances of the told, "My son, you who sustain your parents felicity with which St. Pierre binds the by your labor need not have it defined." scenery he loved to remember with the ideal Paul, it is implied, had been virtuous from persons whom he loved to create. And the his cradle upwards. The true idyl should life of the young couple, bound up so inti- always rest on a basis of real life. In the mately as it is with the grandeur and peace- most perfect idyllic composition of modern fulness of one dear secluded spot, is inspired times, the Mare au Diable, the characters with a morality that evidently gave it meaning are as real as the scenery. Every thing is in and reality to the mind of the author. That "the goodness of God endureth yet daily," and that doing good is a luxury, were two thoughts that lay deep in the heart of St. Pierre and shine through Paul and Virginia. The tale is full of weaknesses, and even puerilities. The death of Virginia, who is drowned because she is afraid lest a sailor should see her half-dressed, and who is accordingly praised for her angelic modesty, crosses the line which separates the sublime from the ridiculous. The old man who tells the story goes off into anathemas of French society which are evidently dictated by the personal disappointment of St. Pierre, and stigmatizes all writing of books as profitless, because "the Gospel, the best of books, has served for centuries only as a pretext for the

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keeping, and it is because the harmony is so perfect, while the theme is so simple, that we call the tale idyllic; but if it had been less well and artistically written, it would still have been a pleasing story of rural life. It is not the fruit of any theory about humanity. Paul and Virginia is ideal, not because common things are idealized in it, but because the sphere in which it is placed is imaginary. To understand this sphere we must go back to the time in which it was written, and to the life of the author; and great and many as are its merits, and abundantly as it has deserved its place in popular estimation, it must still be pronounced subject to consider able drawbacks when criticism attempts to appreciate its relative value as compared with that of the masterpieces of idyllic writ ing.

A DRUNKEN ELEPHANT.-Our men seemed to fraternise most with the Rifles, at least I judge so from the following:-Private Blank is brought in much bruised. "Well, Pat, how have you been hurt?" "Why, a drunken beast of an elephant knocked me down, and then dunched me with his head." "Ah! that is singular. Are you quite sure that you

were not drunk yourself?" "Certain; but the two Rifles with me were in an awful state." "I dare say, but I never heard of an intoxicated elephant before." "At any rate, your honor, the driver, who ought to know, said that the beast had been drinking." Inquiry here ceased. Paddy was quite too strong in mother-witBlackwood's Magazine.

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From The Athenæum.

Salmon-Casts and Stray Shots, being FlyLeaves from the Note-Book of John Colquhoun. (Blackwood & Sons.)

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Ito be unsuitable to their habits. Sir John's plan was excellent, had it only succeeded. He employed London bird-fanciers to procure nightingale eggs, and Caithness shepherds to find the nests of the equally soft-billed robinthe Caithness ones, and robin carefully hatched redbreast. The London eggs soon displaced and reared the embryo melodists. In summer, numbers of young nightingales were seen about the bushes, but at the autumn migration they disappeared, never to return."

From salmon and nightingales turn we to "Men," not men generally, but to the terrible dignitaries so-called, who in the northern parts of Scotland constitute themselves the judges of their ministers, and who, with as small an amount of general knowledge as they have of divinity, presume to set their baneful mark on any clergyman" whom they disapprove, with the sure conviction that, after such a branding, the people will refuse to attend that

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HERE is another pleasant brother of the rod and gun occupying his leisure hours, as he has previously done in "The Moor and the Loch," by narrating his experiences, angling for public favor, and successfully hitting the object at which he aims. In all books like the one before us, there is a similarity of matter and manner, varied only by the larger or less amount of incident and by the difference of skill displayed in the narration. In most cases the halieutical literature is one of considerable pleasantness. The self-complacency of the authors, who take their calling for one which is above all other vocations or amusements of mankind, the grave conviction of each sportsman that whatever is to be done way of doing it is the best, the unaltera-minister's service. Oh, restive and earnest, ble good-humor, the healthiness of tone, eager and uneasy young curates, whose mild the moderate and salubrious jollity, and the anger is awakened when bishops gently hint anecdotes, more or less colored, of flood and at faults and almost pray for your amendfield, all these matters combined go well to ment,-think, young gentlemen, what you the making up of a book over which sports- would be, and how sorely your meekness men may spend a useful, and general readers would have been tried, if, in place of signing an agreeable, hour. Mr. Colquhoun discourses the Thirty-nine Articles and submitting to as much to pleasant purpose as the pleasant- episcopal ordination, you had subscribed to est and most skilful of his brethren,-in proof the Westminster Confession, received the of which assertion we cannot do better than Larger and Shorter Catechisms, and had cite a few passages from many that illustrate known of no other church government and his salmon-casts, and his stray shots. Mr. Colquhoun is not sanguine as to the success of those who are attempting to artificially breed salmon in Scottish rivers hitherto unfrequented by that king among fish. In connexion with this he has an amusing trait in allusion to an endeavor to supplant the wellknown breed of "Scotch Nightingales":

"Salmon anglers are regarding with much interest the artificial propagation of salmon in the Tay and other rivers where the experiment is being tried; but whether the increase will ever reward the trouble of raising them, has yet to be proved. Should the plan fully succeed, it will no doubt be adopted in all our first-class salmon rivers. To stock a stream originally destitute of this fish, would be a signal triumph; and some people are even sanguine enough to attempt it. I rather think they are expecting too much, and that-like the effort of my late patriotic grandfather, Sir John Sinclair, to enliven the Caithness muirs with nightingale music-after the first migration the fish will come back no more to a stream which their previous neglect showed

discipline but those connected with elders, kirk sessions, presbyteries, provincial synods, and general assemblies! Here is a Friday's scene, at which Mr. Colquhoun was present, for a certain keeper would not attend him to the Lochs till the "Men's Service" was concluded:

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"The tent was pitched in a secluded spot, beside a little brook among the hills. A large primitive congregation surrounded the young Highland minister, who, with violent gesture and defiant tone, was fiercely shouting a Gaelic exhortation. Before him sat the Men,' in full camlet canonicals. Only two had the cotton hood; the rest wore red or brown scratch-wigs, which so enhanced their natural or assumed gravity, as to be perfectly grotesque. They were considerably above middle age, though not very old. The most prominent was the best specimen. He concluded with a prayer in a low tone, and was really a prepossessing old man. His neighbor on the right was a truculent fellow, whose red swollen face too plainly intimated that neat whisky was the spirit that oftenest moved

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such a dirty state. Me dirty! What if ye saw hir!'"

Well that was unclean sincerity at all find miserable shams amid the divine magnif events. What surprises us, however, is to

him; while he on the left, with a fiery red wig and sharp-cut features, had that sinister expression of sly cunning, so especially repulsive, and most frequently found among the lower orders. They appeared to sit in judgment on the preacher; and you could almost read in their critical faces that they thought cence of nature, and intelligent men stamp him ' a fine lad, if he had exparience.' The ing them with approval. Here is an inwomen were most dressed in cloak, hood, and stance: coif, which added to the simple effect of the "Hearing from our dinner company that whole; and when the nasal Gaelic psalm rose there was a real live hermit in the neighbor from the heathery brae, it was, barring the ing grounds of Sir James Matheson, we had Men,' almost sublime. After the congregation the curiosity to visit his cell. He was a more broke up and the three ministers descended favorable specimen than his better-known from the tent, they, like good school-boys, brother anchorite of the Holy Loch. At the sheepishly shook hands with their masters, cave among the rocks, a short distance from "the Men,' in turn. None of the ministers his house, with his sheep-dog' Lassie' at his under 'the Men's' surveillance wear either foot, the gentle old man was seated. His gown or bands. Popish vestiges themselves, white beard and contented expression har they call the gown and bands Popish in a monized exactly with the stillness around. minister, and are jealous, I suppose, of this in- His only trouble appeared to be the mous fringement on the prerogative of camlet and tache, which annoyed him when supping his scratch-wig! A northern presentee to a church kale. Looking earnestly at mine, he inquired took his revenge on going South, by mounting if his would grow out the same way when bands as a flag of triumph, and never doffing they were lang. Upon my saying there them till he reached the end of his journey at was a kind of pomatum would set them right, Dunkeld. Another less fortunate aspirant he was eager to find out whether the doctors for bands supplied their place at the trial' sold it. sermon, by pinning his Crimean medal outside of Gaelic books, and a draught out of his We had a sight of his little library his gown, to enlist the sympathy of his audi-spring well. On returning to the town, Sir ence. That the bands have some mysterious James's ferryman civilly offered to row us power, a late Free Church professor fully across the river, and when we told him the proved, and fairly owned. For, when preach- hermit's trouble He gets three shillings a ing in the Isle of May, seeing the lighthouse week for that beard o' his; he keeper's wife completely overcome, he asked the sauve for his mistachies.' That hermit is weel buy what part of the discourse had touched her an excellent idea; he is such a perfect finish feelings. It's the baands, sir-it's the baands; to the rocky scene, and a peep at his quiet I hae na seen them sin' I was a lassie.' Pub- life might calm for a moment the most turbu lish it not in the North-tell it not to the lent votary of this noisy world."

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With all the vigilance of these extremely offensive and inevitable "Men," the people are not more clean in spirit or in body than folks ecclesiastically cared-for after another fashion.

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-Which we beg leave to doubt. The ferrysuch a mountebank amid the everlasting hills man better understood the worthlessness of than Mr. Colquhoun. Fancy a used-up roue The guid boddies at Stornaway seem to be finding even temporary peace of mind from contemplating a mock hermit perplexed with preeminently dirty: the growth of his "mistachies," and only "The whole fishing-village-to borrow a submiting to these impediments to the sup phrase from one of themselves-seemed ' 'indulging in dirt.' The herring-fishers bad ping of his kale, for the consideration of enough; the women curers worst, if possible. three shillings a week! They brought to my mind the predicament of an Edinburgh clergyman (always particularly neat and trim in his own attire), when an applicant for marriage presented himself in the most disgusting figure that ever darkened his study door. When is it to take place? Directly, sir.You mean after you have cleaned yourself?'-(Looking down at himself with evident satisfaction). Och, I'm weel enough. You could'nt be married in

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Mr. Colquhoun has much to say about his dexterity and success in the excellent sport of shooting foxes! There are few sportsmen more to the south who will read this portion of his attractive volume without feelings of angry impatience; for however necessary may be to get rid of foxes among the mountains, the idea of shooting them outright, when they might be preserved and sent

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