The names of Laura and Petrarca have been inseparably associated with the theory of what is falsely called Platonic love. Nothing can be more unwarrantable so far as Petrarch is concerned. There is nothing in his sonnets that for a moment can authorize such an idea. On the contrary, they literally vibrate with passion. It has been said that Petrarch only clothes with the name of Laura the vague ideals of a poet, and that the madonna in these sonnets is no more than the muse in other poems. We think that any one who has ever really loved, or ever been near it, will recognize in Petrarch's verse the outcry of true passion; and all those tender extravagances which seem so cold and silly to the indifferent reader, are, indeed, no more than the natural language of the lover, who finds pleasure even in playing with the name of his mistress, and loves the laurel for the sake of Laura. it clings, and the soul from which it proceeds, which defies definition, and rises above criticism. A vicious passion, however violent, may be judged by its transitory impulse; and of love, as of truth, the best is in endurance. The uplifted hymn of a whole lifetime to its solitary ideal can have in it nothing that is degrading. The love-song becomes a psalm; and the pure in heart of every age cannot fail to respond to it. With the fountains of Vaucluse yet murmuring upon our ear -- with the name of Laura still lingering about our heart-we bid good-bye to Petrarch. Virtue will never droop so long as the world shall retain men capable of a love like this poet's, or women as worthy of it as the mistress of his tender and beautiful fancies. But already, if not too much, we have said enough. Our interest in, and reverence for, the great society we have ventured to approach, has led us to gossip rather than to philosophize. Our subject is too large for the limits we are permitted to devote to it. Many great No; if between these two characters names remain which we would gladly speak there existed aught of what is called Platon- of. We might pause to inquire how it hap ism in love, it was on the side of Laura, and pened that a La Rochefoucauld, who lived not that of her lover. We do not, however, amidst all that can render life delightful, forget that Petrarch was the father of an and surrounded by the adulation of his conillegitimate child by another woman-a son temporaries, bequeathed to mankind so severe who surely might have claimed a little of a satire on its weaknesses ?—or how, while that tenderness of which the poet was else- we find his work in every library, many where so lavish. Neither does his interest others, less fortunate, who, amidst penury in Laura seem to have extended to any of and hardship, have dreamed the angel ladher numerous children. But whether he reder back to earth, and prophesied of human garded these with bitterness or indifference perfection, were suffered when living to perno one can now presume to judge. He ish from neglect, and are thrust from memonever speaks of them. Love delights to up-ry when dead, while their works lie dusty on raise and dignify its objects; but how far in our bookshelves. the celebrity which he gave to Laura, Petrarch sought or valued the magnified reflection of his own identity, we do not like to inquire. Indeed, throughout the whole career of Francesco Petrarca there are sufficient evidences of a gentle vanity and amiable egotism, which we readily pardon, and gladly seek to forget, in the thought of how few have ever united to such costly gifts of culture, so much sweetness of disposition, so many graces of mind, such even purity of aspiration, or such noble and generous enthu-haps, the only serviceable moral to be drawn siasm for whatever is lofty and commanding. It is worthy of remark here, that although the sonnets which commemorate the fame of the Madonna are passionate love-poems addressed to the wife of another man, yet the chastest of our wives will not scruple to read them, and the purest of our daughters may do so with an untainted pleasure and preciation. The reason of this at once presents itself. There is a purity in all constancy which ennobles alike the object to which ap We are told by his brother,* that in their early rambles through the rocks of Corsica, the young Napoleon used frequently to exclaim with enthusiasm, "I desire to be my own posterity!"-"Je voulais être ma postérite!" This is the right feeling; and, per from the history of all great laborers and aspirants. Every hero should contain his posterity within himself. Who does this will neither be disheartened by the injustice of prejudice, nor laid asleep by the flattery of fools. *See that very interesting addition to our biographical literature "Memoires et Correspondannotés, et mis en ordre par A. de Casse, A. D. C. ence Politique et Militaire du Roi Joseph; publiés, de S. A. le Prince Jérome Napoléon.” From the Eclectic Review JAMES MONTGOMERY.* THESE volumes acquaint the public with the history of the late James Montgomery (often designated, par excellence, as the Christian Poet) during the first forty-one years of his life. The editors have attained in one respect-though in one only-the perfection of this species of literature. They have made their work a simple glass through which the reader sees Montgomery living and acting before them, without being conscious of the medium through which he is making his observations. The biographer is invisible and inaudible, and so he ought to be; as much so as the scene-shifter and the prompter in the acting of a drama. James Montgomery was born in Irvine in Ayrshire, in November, 1771. His parents appear to have been most worthy persons; his father having been a pastor in the noiseless ranks of the Moravian Brethren, and having emigrated with his partner during the childhood of the poet as a missionary to the West Indies, leaving James, with his two younger brothers, Robert and Ignatius, in charge of the Moravian Brethren at their establishment at Fulneck in Yorkshire. As "the child is father of the man," there is no doubt that the determining causes of Montgomery's ultimate character and tendencies are to be found during this period. They would seem to have been that constitutional taint which shaded with gloom the temperament of Dr. Johnson, a defect of vision which debarred him from many of the amusements of his companions, and the solemn and almost ascetic devotional observances of the sect among whom his lot had been cast. The psalmody of the Moravians, the only aesthetic element in their system, naturally affected and perhaps determined the intellectual tastes of this pensive youth; and the occasion of hearing Blair's "Grave" *Memoirs of the Life and Writings of James Montgomery, including Selections from his Correspondence, Remains in Prose and Verse, and Conversations on Various Subjects. By John Holland and James Everett. Volumes I. and II. London: Longman & Co. 1854. read by one of the masters to a school-boy audience, all of whom, except Montgomery, were fast asleep, seems to have determined him to the cultivation of sacred poetry. "At school," as he wrote in 1794, "even when I was driven like a coal ass through the Latin and Greek grammars, I was distinguished for nothing but indolence and melancholy, brought upon me by a raging and lingering fever, with which I was suddenly seized one fine summer day, as I lay under a hedge with my companions, listening to our master whilst he read us some animated passages from Blair's poem on the 'Grave.' My happier schoolfellows, born under milder planets, all fell asleep during the rehearsal; but I, who am always asleep when I ought to be waking, never dreamed of closing an eye, but eagerly caught the contagious malady; and from that ecstatic moment till the present, Heaven knows, I have never enjoyed one cheerful, one peaceful night."--Vol. i. p. 39. Montgomery's boyhood was "smit with the love of sacred song." His schoolboy productions were hymns after the model of the Moravian psalmody; and on hearing Blair's "Grave," he declared that if he should ever be a poet he would write such a poem as that. Indeed, while at school he entered on venturesome speculations of this description. One of these was entitled "The World," and was intended to comprise an epitome of moral, religious, and civil history. "I meant," he said in after life, "to begin at the beginning, or rather earlier still; for my plan contemplated a representation of the Almighty, happy and alone in the solitudes of eternity. I then conceived that the thought (to speak humanly) should arise in the Divine mind, that he would create other beings to participate in his glory, and that immediately on the exercise of infinite volition, angels were to come into being. I meant to describe the battle between Michael and his angels and Satan and his legions; and at last to engage these hierarchies themselves in single combat to decide the issue of the strife,” and so forth.--Ib. p. 63. The next subject which he undertook was scarcely less ambitious. It was an epic, the subject of which was Alfred the Great, which, in bold violation of all the laws and precedents of that description of poem, was to consist of a series of Pindaric odes, extending to twenty books, two of which he actually wrote. Here, again, we find the tendency to which we have already referred. The biographer informs us that it commenced while Alfred was in the Isle of Athelney, disguised as a peasant; and the first ode opened with a description of the Almighty seated upon his throne, looking down and commiserating the ruins of England, when a host of the spirits of Englishmen, who had just perished in a battle with the Danes, appeared in his presence to receive their eternal doom. These spirits described the state of the country, and implored the Sovereign of the universe to interpose and deliver it from despotism. Such was the opening of the juvenile epic. It is amusing, though not, perhaps, surprising, to find that the youthful aspirant while toiling at the accomplishment of these Herculean designs, was, as he expressed it, "turned out" from Fulneck on the charge of indolence! At about seventeen years of age he commenced a poem, the subject of which was the "Castle of Ignorance." This he attempted in English hexameters, of which he wrote about a hundred and fifty lines, the second of which, if correctly given by the editor, indicates incapacity enough fully to account for the abandonment of the design. It is in these words was at home, and might often be met riding through his domains, our young adventurer, with a fluttering heart in his bosom, and a fairly transcribed copy of his poem in his pocket, proceeded tune to meet his lordship. Amidst the confusion to Wentworth Park, where he had the good for and agitation which it may be conceived he felt at this delicate crisis, he did present the verses to Earl Fitzwilliam, who, with characteristic condescension, read them on the spot, and immediately presented the gratified author a golden guinea. tronage, which Montgomery's poetry ever proThis was the first profit, as well as the first pacured." Ib. p. 78. Accident now threw the truant youth into the employment of a Mr. Hunt, a general shopkeeper at Wath, where he culti vated the intimacy of a bookseller and stationer, by whom he was introduced to Mr. Harrison, the bookseller of Paternosterrow, and Montgomery made his debut in London. Here he continued to cultivate poetry. We find written about this time an "Ode to Solitude," a mock heroic poem in imitation of Homer's "Battle of the Frogs and Mice," and some other fugitive pieces which did not gain, nor indeed deserve, the honor of publication. Disappointed in this last respect, the young poet quitted London and returned to Mr. Hunt's shop at Wath. When twenty-one years of age, his attention was attracted to an advertisement in the "Sheffield Register," by replying to which, he obtained a situation in the house of Mr. Gales, the publisher of that paper, an event which decided the course of his life. The Sheffield Register" was a leading provin cial advocate of political freedom and justice, "Vanquished the mighty hosts of wild supersti- when such an advocacy was rendered any tion and ignorance.' His removal from Fulneck destroyed all probability of his ever realizing the wishes of his parents and tutors, by becoming a Moravian minister. He was next placed, with a view to apprenticeship, in a small retail business at Mirfield, but the unsuitableness of this situation to his tastes becoming utterly intolerable, and, not having been bound by indentures, he ran away from his employer, and not knowing whither he went, found himself at Rotherham, where an adventure occurred, which is thus recorded : of thing but safe, owing to the heated passions excited by the French war, and the despotic and unscrupulous character of the Govern ment. The commencement of 1794 found political societies springing into existence in all parts of the kingdom, and with one these existing at Sheffield, under the title of the Constitutional Society, Mr. Gales was connected. Its chief object was the promotion of peace and parliamentary reform. In April of this year, a great open air meeting was held in Sheffield to address the king on behalf of the political convicts, Palmer, Muir, &c., and to petition for the total abolition of slavery. From the part which Gales took "Aware of his proximity to Wentworth House, in this meeting, as well as from the general and probably having heard something of the affa- tenor of the "Register," suspicion fell upon ble and generous character of its noble owner-him in connection with a letter found in the the late Earl Fitzwilliam--he conceived a truly poetical project, which was no other than the presentation of a copy of verses to his lordship in person! Having ascertained that the noble earl possession of Thomas Hardy when he was taken into custody, referring to the possibility of furnishing the patriots with arms. A government messenger in consequence unexpectedly visited the house of Mr. Gales with a warrant for his arrest. He was, however, fortunately from home, and as, notwithstand ing his entire innocence of the charge, there was the highest probability of his conviction, he fled from this country, to which he never returned, and the "Sheffield Register" ceased the same week. During two years Montgomery had been more or less connected with the editorial part of the paper, and having been joined by a moneyed partner of the name of Naylor, he purchased the presses, types, &c., of the defunct journal, in the last number of which appeared an announcement of his intention to publish, in the following week, a new periodical under the title of "The Sheffield Iris." Thus Montgomery entered upon that career of public usefulness only second, in the fame with which it crowned him, to his future distinction as a poet. It has been frequently asserted by critics, that our great poets have been as eminent in prose composition as in their more peculiar department of literature; and not a few great names will occur to the mind of the reader in corroboration of the remark. We are of opinion that that of Mr. Montgomery may be added to the list. The commencement of his career as a public journalist in his opening address to his readers (he being then only twenty-three years of age), gives promise of his future success as a political writer, and we question if we are disparaging the rank to which alone he is fairly entitled among the bards of his country, if we assign to his prose an excellence fully equal to that which distinguishes the best poetical productions of his pen. The principles upon which the "Iris" was to be conducted are thus enunciated: cobin, and every advocate for peace as an enemy to his king and country. They pity those persons, whatever their principles may be, who, in endeavoring to defend them, have recourse to the mean acts of vilifying and abusing their opponents! and they proclaim their own firm purpose to avoid descending to the littleness of personal controversy, or to recriminations unworthy alike of Britons, of Christians, or of men."-Ib. p. 177. Still Montgomery labored under two capital disadvantages in his new vocation, a disinclination to politics, and an absolute aversion to business. At a later period of his life, he said to one of his biographers: "In early life I sometimes dipped into political controversy, but politics become more and more disagreeable to me; I enter no further into them than my duty as editor of a newspaper compels me to; frequently do I wish I had nothing to do with them; and if it were not for breaking up the concern, in which others are interested as well as myself, I would abandon the whole at once." On another occasion he exclaimed: "I hate politics, and I would as soon meet a bear as à ledger." Notwithstanding this, however, all the editorial comments on current events were invariably written by his own pen. "They profess themselves desirous to avoid, in this publication, the influence of party spirit. Like other men, they have their own political opinions and their own political attachments; and they have no scruple to declare themselves friends to the cause of peace and reform, however such a declaration may be likely to expose them in the present times of alarm to obnoxious epithets and unjust and ungenerous approaches. But while they acknowledge themselves unconvinced of the necessity or expediency of the present war, and fully persuaded that a melioration of the state of the representative body is intimately connected with the true interests of the nation, they declare their firm attachment to the constitution of its government, as administered by KINGS, LORDS, and COMMONS; and they scorn the imputations which would represent every reformer as a Ja In October, 1794, Thomas Hardy was put upon his trial at the Old Bailey, on the charge of high treason; and on what Dr. Parr* used to call, "the ever memorable and ever honored" fifth of November, he was acquitted. Upon this occasion Montgomery wrote a hymn, which was sung at a dinner of "The Friends of Reform," in Sheffield, but which, like most of his similar productions up to this period, is distinguished more by liberal and reverential feeling than by poetic originality and power. The young editor was now to feel some of the perils of his position in that unquiet age. A poor hawker of songs one day came into his office and inquired at what price he would print a certain quantity of the trifles that he held in his hand. Montgomery declined the business. On this the man informed him that the type was standing in his office, * In allusion to the suspension of the Habeas Corpus act the doctor used to give the following characteristic toast, Qui suspenderunt suspendantur. This reminds us of Dr. Parr's refusal to drink the toast "Church and king," at a political dinner at Warwick shortly after the Birmingham riots. On being strongly pressed, however, he drank it with the following comment: "Then, gentlemen, I give you Church and king, formerly the watchword of Jacobites, and now the toast of incendiaries. means a Church without the Gospel, and a king above the law.” It which, on inquiry, was found to be true, the "Europe's fate on the contest's decision depends; ends, If she triumphs, the world will be free.” The trial issued in a conviction, and Montgomery was sentenced to be imprisoned in York Castle for three months, and to pay a fine of twenty pounds. During his imprisonment an address was transmitted to him from "The Society of the Friends of Literature," in Sheffield, of which he was a member. This concluded with the following paragraph: "Be assured, sir, that we esteem you as a brother, torn from us for awhile by the strong hand of the law, and we anxiously look forward to the time when you shall emerge from your cell, and return to the bosom of your friends. Though that time be but comparatively short, we are well aware that the moments are cheerless and lan guid which are passed within the dreary contines of a prison. Yet as an anchor to rest upon, we wish you to keep in mind that it is better to be sentenced for a supposed crime and be innocent, than to be acquitted of a real one and be guilty. GOD, TRUTH, and CONSCIENCE, are for you; who, then, can be against you? Your sentence is an eulogy; your prison is a palace."—Ib. p. 219. out with great dignity and power, and the closing paragraph, for the nobility of feeling which it indicates, deserves to be recorded here. "I am not conscious," he writes, "of being influenced by any of those violent principles which have been imputed to me; on the other hand I de test the spirit of party wherever it appears; and, whilst I hope I can make reasonable allowances for the prejudices of others, I am determined never to sacrifice to those prejudices, on any side of any question, the independence of my own mind. Whatever some persons may say or think of me, no man is a firmer.friend either to his king or his country than myself. But I look upon loyalty and patriotism to be best evinced by supporting such measures and such only as have a tendency to rectify abuses, and to establish the true honor and happiness of Britain on the solid basis of JUSTICE, PEACE, and LIBERTY. . . . . All private resent ment and animosity against those who have hither to been my enemies and persecutors I have left behind in my prison, and may they never escape thence! If I cannot obtain I will at least endeavor to deserve the public favor. If I fail of that there has been a time when I not only served success I shall still console myself with the idea but suffered for my country."—Ib. p. 225. But the sufferings of our journalist were not yet ended. In the "Iris," of August 7th, 1795, appeared a paragraph, describing a fatal disturbance at Sheffield, which issued in the death of two of the townsmen by the bullets of a corps of volunteers, beside several other serious casualties. The editor's narrative of the event contains the following passage:-"R. A. Athorpe, Esq., Colonel of the Volunteers, who had been previously or dered to hold themselves in readiness, now appeared at their head, and in a peremptory tone commanded the people instantly to dis perse, which not being immediately complied with, a person who shall be nameless plunged with his horse among the unarmed, defenceless people, and wounded with his sword men, women, and children, promiscuously." Upon this was founded a charge, on which a bill was found by the Grand Jury at Barnsley Sessions, for a "false, scandalous, and malicious libel on the character of R. A. Additional interest is given to this docu- Athorpe, Esq., a military magistrate." The ment by the signature affixed to it-John trial came on at Doncaster Sessions, on the Pye Smith, then president of the above so- 21st of January, 1796, and issued in the fol ciety, and afterwards the possessor of a world-lowing sentence:"That James Montgomery wide reputation for learning, excellence, and be imprisoned for the term of six months in usefulness, as Dr. Pye Smith. On the 16th the Castle of York; that he pay a fine of of April, 1795, Montgomery was released thirty pounds to the king, and that he give from his captivity, and in the following week security for his good behavior for two years, published in the "Iris " an address to his himself in a bond of two hundred pounds, readers on the events which had so unex- and two sureties in fifty pounds each." His pectedly befallen him. It is written through-introduction to his second incarceration was |