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most eloquent music." But to be serious,-while it is impossible not to laugh at the folly of this declaration, it is equally impossible for a well regulated mind not to shudder at its impiety.


While the disciples of Mr. Logier have extolled him almost as much as he has extolled himself, some of them, in predicting the glorious results of his labours, have, if possible, exceeded him. A Mr. Donaldson, a teacher of music in Glasgow, published a prospectus, in which he informed his friends, that "having complied with the necessary arrangements," (i. c. having paid Mr. Logier one hundred guineas,) he "has made himself completely master of the system. This gentleman was very sanguine indeed in his expectations. He observed, that one great excellence of "the System" consists in its "facilitating the acquirement of musical knowledge by infants!" The principles of harmony form a delightful study for infants. But farther, Mr. Donaldson assured the good people of Glasgow, that, by the aid of "the System," pupils of ordinary capacity and ordinary industry. may find themselves capable of emulating Corelli, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, and such men." Our readers will scarcely give us credit for fidelity in this quotation; but we beg to assure them that it is correct to the very letter. "The System" seems actually to have turned the brains of all who had any thing to do with it. Mr. Logier himself denominated his house Chiroplast Hall. He moreover founded a Chiroplast Club, the members of which wore a Chiroplast uniform, bearing Chiroplast buttons! Could it have been supposed that such freaks were indulged by any man whose friends suffered him to walk the earth without a keeper?

In investigating the merits of "the System," we have been struck by the resemblance between the conduct of its founder and friends, and that of the inhabitants of Laputa and Balnibarbi, as described by the renowned Lemuel Gulliver. Mr. Logier's club wore buttons ornamented with musical characters, and the "outward garments of the Laputans were adorned with the figures of fiddles, flutes, harps, trumpets, guitars, harpsichords, &c." In some instances, the natives of the flying island seem to have exceeded Mr. Logier himself in this propensity for making every thing musical. At the dinner prepared for Gulliver, the second course consisted of "two ducks trussed up into the form of fiddles; sausages and puddings resembling flutes and hautboys; and a breast of veal in the shape of a harp.' Here was a dinner worthy even of the Chiroplast Club. If it be still in existence, we would recommend the adoption of the Laputan system of cookery as admirably corresponding with the uniform and the buttons. But, among

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other things, Gulliver informs us, that the Laputans "are very bad reasoners, and vehemently given to opposition, unless when they happen to be of the right opinion, which is very seldom their case." Again, it will be recollected, that at Lagado, the capital of Balnibarbi, was a celebrated "academy," and that one of the professors therein had a project "for improving speculative knowledge by practical and mechanical operations." This artist, after lamenting the labour necessary to acquire information in the usual way, observed to Gulliver, that by his contrivance the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a little bodily labour, may write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, law, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study." Who would not think that the first part of this sentence was extracted from a Logierian advertisement, and that it was to terminate with the productions of Corellis, Handels, Haydns, and Mozarts, in the persons of" pupils of ordinary capacity and ordinary industry.” But farther, the professor, having given this explanation, conducted Gulliver" to the frame about the sides whereof all his pupils stood in ranks." After describing the machine, Gulliver continues," The professor then desired me to ob ́serve, for he was going to set his engine at work. The pupils, at his command, took each of them hold of an iron handle, whereof there were forty fixed round the edge of the frame; and giving them a sudden turn, the whole disposition of the words was entirely changed. He then commanded six-andthirty of the lads to read the several lines softly as they appeared upon the frame; and, when they found three or four words together that might make part of a sentence, they dictated to the four remaining boys, who were scribes. This work was repeated three or four times; and at every turn the engine was so contrived, that the words shifted into new places as the square bits of wood moved upside down." What a picture of a Logierian exhibition! How is it possible to forbear thinking of the chiroplasts; the slates, and the slidingboards; of mechanically harmonizing the scale; of the ten piano-fortes and the thirty performers? The college contained another professor, whom we must beg to be allowed to 'mention. "There was a man born blind, who had several apprentices in his own condition. Their employment was to -mix colours for painters." Gulliver adds, "It was indeed my misfortune to find them at that time not very perfect in their lessons, and the professor himself happened to be generally mistaken." We make no application.

We have now done with Mr. Logier and his System. In the year 1818, he made the following declaration :-" All opposition shall but add vigour to my exertions; for I know



that I stand upon the firm ground of truth, and that the time is fast approaching when my enemies will shrink with shame at having opposed the progress of that knowledge which it should be the pride of every liberal professor and lover of his art to propagate by every means which his power affords." Such was once the language of Mr. Logier; but, alas! vain are the hopes and the expectations of man. The lapse of six years has worked a dreadful change in the once-flattering prospects of the inventor. Since the time when the above boast was made, the system has been constantly going down. Some of its teachers have abandoned it altogether, to avoid being abandoned altogether by their pupils; and others, who retain it, do so only partially, having recourse to it on two or three days in the week to save appearances, but teaching on the other days according to the old exploded system. The instrument,the great instrument for changing the whole system of musical instruction, is out of tune; "the times are out of joint;" the Logierians are out of spirits; the Corellis, Handels, Haydns, and Mozarts, are not yet manufactured; the academies are deserted; the chiroplasts are untenanted, and their companions unread; the scale is no longer harmonised; the stage tricks are suspended; the slates are broken; the chalk pots are destroyed; the one thousand and one pianofortes are silent; even the intelligent looks of the pupils have failed to uphold the cause; and we should not be surprised at hearing that Mr. Logier had quitted Europe to propagate his system in BALNIBARBI and the FLYING ISLAND.


The Legend of St. Loy; with other Poems. By John Abraham Heraud. 8vo. pp. 223. Second Edition.London, Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy.

Ir is our intention to avail ourselves occasionally of the appearance of second editions of works of merit, to introduce their authors to our readers. We could wish, that the space we have to devote to criticism would allow us to do this upon a larger scale, and more extended plan; then we would endea vour to supply the defalcation of some other critical journals, and remove, as far as lies in our power, the effects of the partiality of reviewers, of which many authors have just reason to complain. We are not ignorant, that it is impossible for any periodical to duly notice all the works, which, in this publishing age, issue from the press; still, we do conceive that it is very

possible to bestow that favour upon nearly all those which deserve it. But, while such long and elaborate critiques are written upon some works, which, either from the celebrity of heir authors, do not stand in need of such recommendation; or, from their own intrinsic merits, do not deserve it; the pled of wanting space can hardly be admitted. It is known, to all acquainted with modern literature, that a writer, particularly a new one, who possesses no influence with the periodical press, has but little chance, whatever may be his merits, of being introduced to public notice through this medium. How far these dispensers of fame injure the cause of literature by this exclusive system, is for the candid to determine. We shall not adopt a similar course; every production which meets our eye, and is found to be deserving of such assistance as we can give it, shall not be thrown by in unmerited neglect. We do not wish to be understood as here throwing down the gauntlet. We merely state this as the course we mean to pursue; and, we do hope that the honourable feelings which should ever actuate the minds of literary men, will induce them to remedy this just complaint, as far as they can. Authors have now no easy task to gain even their due reward: they slumber not on beds of roses; and, surely, it is not generous to lay more stumbling blocks in their path to publicity, and to scatter additional thorns on their pillows.

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From these preliminary remarks it will be gathered, that we consider the work before us deserving of public notice we do so; and we congratulate the author on the occasion which has brought him before us. The poem is founded on a legendary tale of the good old poetic time, a time, when the stern test of truth was not applied to estimate the merit of works of imagi nation. Poetry, though it may be sterling metal, should not always be tried by the test that jewellers apply to gold. The superscription of Apollo may enable that to pass current which has not been found at the bottom of a well. The age of superstition was, in many respects, the age of poetry: Fiction is the wild and lovely sister of Poesy; and never, perhaps, does the latter lead us into regions so beautiful and so bewitching, as when she allows the former to conduct her into the romantic regions of her own creation. In these matter-of-fact days, these times of mathematical demonstration, we have too much limited the perambulations of the muses. We have no objection to see the bard wheeling his backward flight into the shadowy times of romance: let him go with the heroes of Ossian to the land of spectres, and bring back to us "the tales of the times of old, the deeds of days of other years,"-let the forms of his creation pass in dim and awful obscurity before us,-let us tread the desolate halls of our feudal fathers,-silent, gloomy

and spirit-stirring;-we feel no inclination to meet the flights of fancy by a solemn enquiry into the truth of apparitions. With all his appliances and means to boot," he will not disable us from sleeping without a light: not one of his phantoms will be a ghost of Mrs. Veal.

Our author has consulted the bent of his genius, by choosing a subject like the above. His mind is imbued with the spirit of poetry and romance, and he expatiates amidst the wonderful and the wild con amore. He carries us back to the olden time, where we seem as in another world, and amidst beings that are not of the earth, and yet are on it; and, if he luxuriates in his feelings a little too much, it is a fault easily to be pardoned in a young poet; and, as evincing an abundance of sensibility and imagination, is at least a good fault. We hate paucity-it is no mark of a poet. Time and judgment will teach to curtail, but no effort will clothe with abundance a barren soil. We would rather at all times meet with a few lines too many, than too few ideas, albeit conciseness and condensation are both excellencies. We had intended to analyse the story which forms the subject of the poem; but, upon fur ther consideration, we think it would only tend to diminish the interest of the reader; and we doubt not, but many authors have been very much disobliged by their reviewers giving the sum and substance of their fictions to the reader before-hand: it may; indeed, have made the review more interesting; but, in many cases, it has undeniably diminished the desire of perusing the work reviewed. The author has gone far enough back to leave his imagination fully at liberty: "The story is placed in or about the days of Edward the Martyr, because the antiquity and obscurity of the age were favourable to legendary fiction; and the Dane is introduced, not only because these times retained some remnant of his hated and untamed race, but also that the mythology of the north was inviting to dramatic fable, and appealed, in a distinguished manner, with manifold, and most powerful claims, to the imagination and the fancy.”Pref. xi.

The introduction is written in Spenserian verse; and, from this short specimen, the author appears capable of boldly grappling with this difficult measure. To write this stanza well, is no child's play: and, if the most difficult, it is surely the noblest form of versification in our language. The three first stanzas will shew the capabilities of our young poet.

"Away! ye Cares of th' ever-toiling World,
Toiling for gain, and reaping but dismay;
Still on the rack of Disappointment burled,
Alike the wise, the busy, and the gay,

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