the name of God, what or who it was;" the bird presently answered, "I am the soul of one that is damned, and am engaged to sing thus till the last day of the great judgment;" which said, with a terrible shriek, which amazed them all, she flew away, and soon vanished. The event was, "that all that heard those sirenical notes, recently fell into grievous distress, and soon after died.' Of waterspirits, the following is a tolerable specimen In a lake in Poland, it was shrewdly suspected a spirit had taken up his residence; and the fishermen casting their nets, drew " up a fish with a goat's head and horns, and the eyes flaming and sparkling like fire, with whose aspect and filthy stench that it brought with it, being terrified, they fled; and the monster making a fearful noise, like the howling of a wolf, and troubling the water, vanished."

The argument of the 9th book, Tractat, runs thus:"To spirits called Lucifugi (From shunning light) I next apply. My sore tried pen, &c.

or

Of Rol in Good-fellow and of Fairies,
With many other strange vagaries
Done by Hob-goblins. I next write
Of a Noon-devile and a Buttry-sprite," &c.

This "Tractat" is even more desultory than the preceding-and the paragraphs hold time and place in derision. Our author treats at considerable length of treasures kept in the earth, and guarded by spirits. He recites a story from Stumpsius, of a heroic butcher, who entered into a hideous cave near Basil, and came at last to a noble palace in the middle of a "fresh fragrant garden," where he beheld a beautiful lady seated on a magnificent throne. An enormous chest of treasure, guarded by a black fierce ban-dog, was placed on each side of the throne. The lady informed him, that she was a princess, held enthralled by a stepdame's spell, and to be released only by three kisses from a young man, immaculate from his childhood. The butcher attempts to kiss her, but is repelled by her features, that wax hideous and horrid, and more especially by a mouth furnished with formidable grinders. On another occasion he returns to the cave, but is no more heard of; and,

"Not many years ensuing this, another Of the same town, a kinsman or a brother,

Hoping thereby a desperate state to raise
By his direction, had made oft essays,
This strange inchanted palace to discover,
And to that Queen to be a constant lover.
At length he entered, but there nothing
Save bones, and skulls, and corses, under
found,
ground;

But was withal so far distract in sense,
Hedied some three days after parting thence."

The following passage, descriptive of the Lucifugi, is not unpoetical. "These in obscurest vaults themselves invest, And, above all things, light and day detest, Called Kottri and Kibaldi-such as we Pugs and Hob-goblins call. Their dwellings be In corners of old houses least frequented, Or beneath stacks of wood: and these con

vented,

Make fearful noise in Buttries and in Dairies. Robin Goodfellows some, some call them

fairies.

They will make dance about the shelves and settles,

As if about the kitchen tost and cast,
Yet in the morning nothing found displast.
Others such houses to their use have fitted,
In which base murders have been once com-
mitted.

Some have their fearful habitations taken,
In desolate houses, ruined and forsaken."

دو

The poet then starts off to a story reported by Fincelius, which does not seem to fall under any general head; but it is well told. "A mighty rich man and a belly-god had died.' "After whose death (his soul gone heaven knows whither) Not one night failed, for many months together,

But all the rooms with lighted tapers shone,
As if the darkness had been chased and gone,
And day then only for his pleasure staid.
In the great chamber, where before were

made

His riotous feasts (the casements standing wide)

Clearly thro' that transparence is espied
This Glutton, whom they by his habit knew
At the boards' end, feasting a frolic crew
Of lusty stomachs that about him sate,
Served in with many a costly delicate,
Course after course, and every charger full:
Neat servitors attended, not one dull,
But ready to shift trenchers, and fill wine
In guilded bowls; for all with plate do
shine:

And among them you could not spy a guest
But seemed some one he in his life did feast;

At this high rate they seemed to spend the night,

But all were vanished still before day-light." But the story which old Heywood tells, with the most manifest delight, is hat of the "Buttry-sprite," and a very good story it is. A certain man, in holy orders, pays a visit to a near relation, a crafty cook," whom he finds in a very bad way. world is not his friend, nor the world's law;" and to a question from his reverend uncle, he confesses with great simplicity.

"This

O, Uncle, I have sought my state to raise By every indirect and lawless mean.

I buy stale meat, and, at the cheapest rate; Then, if my guests complain, I cog and prate, Out-facing it for good. Sometimes I buy Beeves (have been told me) of the murrain

die.

What course have I not took to compass

riches?

your face," Saith the Cook," that way, you may view the place,

That casement shews it."

"Well done,"

saith the Priest, "Now look with me, and tell me what thou seest."

When presently appears to them a ghost, Swoln-cheekt, gor-bellied, plumper than mine host,

His legs with dropsy swelled, gouty his thighs,
And able scarce to look out of his eyes,-
Feeding with greediness on every dish,
For nothing could escape him, flesh or fish.
Then with empty jugs he seemed to quarrel,
And sets his mouth to the bung-hole of a
barrel,-

(Less compass than his belly,) at one draught, He seemed to quaff half off, then smiled and laught;

When jogging it he found it somewhat shal

low,

So parted thence, as full as he could wallow."

The Cook, crafty as he was, had not been at all aware of this boarder and lodger, and is told by his good uncle, that the only way to get the better of the Buttry-sprite, is to lead an honest life. He accordingly changes his system altogether; and in a few years, not only becomes a burgher, but is invested with city-honours, and bids fair to become Lord Provost. On his second visit, the Priest finds his nephew in excellent case, and tells him once more to look towards the Buttry. "Then he spies

The self-same sp'rit, with wan cheeks, and dark eyes,

His aspect meagre, his lips thin and pale,
(As if his legs would at that instant fail,)
Leaning upon a staff, quite clung his belly,
And all his flesh as it were turned to jelly.
Upon the shelves too, and the meat all good,
Full platters round about the dresser stood,
At which he snatcht and catcht, but nought
prevailed,

Still as he reacht his arm forth, his strength failed;

And, though his greedy appetite was much, There was no dish that he had power to touch. He crawls then to a barrel, one would think, That, wanting meat, he had a will to drink; The vessels furnished and full-gaged he saw, But had not strength the spigot forth to draw;

He lifts at jugs, and pots, and cans, but they Had been so well filled that he unnethes may Advance them (tho' now empty) half so high As to his head, to gain one snuff thereby. Thus he, that on ill-gotten goods presumed, Parts hunger-starved, and more than halfconsumed."

This instructive story is followed by a number of very judicious directions how to discriminate bad from good spirits. These must no doubt have been highly useful in our author's days, when so many occasions occurred of reducing them to practice; but in a spiritless age like ours, such knowledge must be purely theoretical.

In the prose illustrations of this Tractat," we meet with a large assortment of miscellaneous superstitions, some of which are told with We read of a Silesian great effect. nobleman, who, enraged that some expected guests had not come to an entertainment he had prepared for them, wished "that so many devils of hell would feast with him, and eat the victuals, and so up church." During sermon, a servant comes in haste to inform him that "a great troop of horsemen, very black, and of extraordinary aspect and stature," had paid him a visit. All the

went to

domestics had filed from the palace, leaving behind them the nobleman's son, now encircled by a legion of devils, who "looked through the casement, one with the head of a bear, another a wolf, another a cat, a fourth a tiger, &c. They held the child over the window, threatening to destroy it, -when an intrepid servant rushed among them, and, in the name of God, rescued his young master from the infernal crew, who, after carousing for a few days, went off, and "the lord entered into his ancient possession."

Several stories of "Sylvans" are then recorded. Alexander de Alexandro writes of a friend of his, who, with a companion, "fell into desert and uninhabited places, insomuch that the very solitude bred no small feare. The sun being set, and darkness growing upon them, they imagine they hear men talking; and fix their eyes upon three strange human shapes, of a fearful and unmeasurable stature, in long loose gowns, and habited after the manner of mourners, with black and grisly hair hanging over their shoulders, but of countenance most terrible to behold." The father of Adolisius, Lord of Immola, shortly after his decease, appeared to his secretary in the shape of a sylvan spirit on horseback, attired like a huntsman, with an hawk upon his fist, and gave warning to his son of a fatal event that afterwards befell him, namely, the capture of himself and city by Philip Duke of Mediolanum. Another of these sylvan spirits appeared to a poor cottager, who had been ordered by his lord to fell and bring him a huge oak, under penalty of ruin; and, throwing it over his shoulder, flung it down before the gate of the castle, so that the lord, on his return home, had to break a new door into the wall, for the huge tree thus deposited resisted both steel and fire. Then follows a little pleasing anecdote of a familiar spirit, one of the Paredrii, who, falling in love with a young girl, upon a time pretended to be extremely angry with her, catched her by the gown, and tore it from head to heel; which she seeming to take ill from his hands, he in an instant sewed it up so workmanlike, that it was not possible to discern in what place he had torn it." This amiable spirit is strongly contrasted with one who took the shape of Policrates, Prince of Eto VOL. IV.

66

lia, and married a Locrensian lady, whom he left pregnant. She was delivered of a monster; and while the senators were deliberating what to do with it, Policrates appeared among them in a long black garment, snatched the creature from the arms of its nurse, ate it up all save the head, and instantly vanished. The senators resolved to consult the oracle about the meaning of this, when " suddenly the infant's head, in the market-place, began to move and speake, and in a grave solid speech predicted a great slaughter to ensue; the which hap pened not long after, in a great war continued betwixt the Etolians and Acarnenses."

A question is then started by Heywood, Whether spirits can take away a man's sense of feeling, or have the power to cast men into long sleeps, which is answered in the affirmative. These effects are produced by oil extracted from opium, nightshade, &c.; and, in many cases, by applications made of the small bones, the ashes, or fat of infants, or of men slain or executed; or by swallowing a king of the bees, who is prime ruler of the hive, and bigger than the rest, &c.

The treatise concludes with a summary account of the violent deaths of many great magicians. Simon Magus, "after all his cheating, juggling, and præstigion," flying in the air, at the prayers of St Peter his spells failed, so that, falling precipitate from on high, "he brake all his bones to shivers." The magician Gilbertus, contending in power with his master Catillus, the latter threw a short staff on the ground, which the scholar taking up, presently became stiff and hard; and being conveyed into an island belonging to the Ostrogoths, was confined there for evermore in a cavern. In a contest of power between other two magicians, the one put his head out of the window, at the other's desire, when so huge a pair of horns grew on it, that he could not pull it in again. When the cornute was released, he drew the picture of a man on the wall, and ordered his rival to enter and hide himself within that effigies. "But he, seeing before his eyes the terror of imminent death, began to quake and tremble, and beseech him on his knees to spare his life. But the other, inexorable, enjoyned him to enter there, as he had commanded; which he with great un

Z

willingness being enforced to do, the wall was seen to open and give way to his entrance, and shut again, but never returned his body back, dead or alive." Zedechias the Jew delighted in "more gentle ludifications." He tossed a man into the air, and dismembered him piecemeal, limb from limb, and after gathering them together, rejointed him, and made him whole and sound, as at the first. He seemed also to devour and eat up at once a cart full of hay, the carter and horses that drew it, with their team-traces and all. But in the end, for poisoning Charles the Bald, he was drawn to pieces by four wild horses. But there would be no end of this obituary; so, for the present, we take our leave of Thomas Heywood.

THE pleasure of communicating to others what fills our own breast, impels youth to write. The dawning of thoughts and feelings, in the spirit of youth, seems to have all the beauty and all the glowing life of genius. To those who behold it, it is beautiful. What wonder that it should deceive him who feels it, into the belief that something stirs within him of the power which gives birth to new creations. The power of conception-the mind's own delight-may well exist without the faculty that can make them available for the general benefit. Why then should the Censors of Literature cry out upon those who have too rashly trusted to their own impulses, and have stepped out from their obscurity to offer to the public the productions of their teeming minds? There seems to be no necessity calling on these functionaries to administer chastisement upon those whose sole error has been to listen too fondly to the suggestion of their hearts, and to believe that they could render some service, or impart some pleasure, to mankind. To defend either the constituted or the innate laws of man against assailants, able or unable, is an act that speaks its own vindication; but to protect, with the same severity

of warfare, the time and patience of the public, against the foolish, ignorant, and dull, is an avocation not so self-evidently meritorious. Neglect and oblivion are sufficient punishment for such offences-for, after all, the trespass on every man's time and patience is of his own making. Pain, thoughtfully inflicted with bitterness and scorn, might well be reserved, one would think, for offenders against the well-being of society. It seems difficult to justify, or in any way account, for such retributions on the self-injuring weaknesses of men innocently self-deceived.

How far the existence of self-erected literary tribunals is, in any way, serviceable to the cause of literature, still remains to be made out. The arena of literature is open to all: and if any writer throw down his gauntlet to challenge the opinions, the belief, the laws that are recognised in the country, it is open for the champion to take it up, and meet the challenger in the lists. But a self-incorporated body of champions, to come forth on every deficiency, seems something monstrous in literary chivalry. Are they judges, accusers, or pleaders? They are one and all. They have in truth no definite character-no consistent purpose. Or have they been simply so good as to undertake the instruction of the public upon all subjects which the occurrences of the times, or the course of literature itself, may happen to bring before them?

The literature of a country is an important object, no doubt--but its excellency does not depend on tribunals of criticism: it depends on the spirit of the people. It is the state of the mind of the whole nation that must determine the character of its literature. If that be sound, strong, aspiring, and enlightened, there will need no such small helps as these to keep its literature from weakness, taint, or degradation. The strength of a nation's mind cannot depend upon the ephemeral instructions of works that start up and float away with the current of the times, but upon mens serious studies-upon studies pursued, with toilsome application, by men whose choice or whose avocations have given up their life to high sources of intellectual labour. It depends too, in a less degree, upon the studies of more ordinary minds, who are led by