SHELLEY'S POSTHUMOUS PROSE.

THE time has been when a literary executor examined the papers of the dead with some degree of critical care, to prevent the publi- cation of any thing inconsistent with the reputation of the de. ceased, or that respect which is due to the public taste, at least from third parties. But circumstances have changed all that ; and now the chief consideration with any one possessing manuscripts seems to be whether the author's name is enough to sell them.

This remark applies to a good part of the volumes before us, except in so far as it may be modified by Mrs. SHELLEY'S relation

to the writer, and the circumstance of her taste harmonizing with

the weakest and most defective parts of his mind. The whole of the first volume consists either of translations from PLATO, or of essays, sometimes incomplete, or of fragments of tales, too visionary to inspire interest had they been* completed, but not intelligible in their (Wee/a mentbra, and which their author appears to have hope- lessly abandoned.

The principal Essays are a Defence of Poetry ; an unfinished essay on the Athenians ; some remarks on the Punishment

of Death, on Life, and on a Future State. Of these, that on the Athenians is the best ; displaying in a high degree SHELLEY'S

thorough appreciation of Greek literature and his lefty estimation of Grecian art,—though his admiration, a feeling unfavourable to

judgment, has somewhat biassed his conclusions here and else- where. The Defence of Poetry appears to have been written in the heyday of the Utilitarians and Political Economists, but is scarcely needed now. The basis of its argument is sound—the su- periority of the poetical faculty, or rather of its perfect exercise, to all other intellectual human qualities. Some of its positions and critical decisions are just, others questionable. The style fre- quently possesses clearness and easy strength ; at other times it is remarkable for puerility and feeble prettiness. The following passage is an example of the better kind ; and it exhibits, moreover, the scope of SHELLEY'S views.

" The production and assurance of pleasure in this highest sense is true utility. Those who produce and preserve this pleasure are poets or poetical ph ilo,ophers.

" The exertions of Locke, Mune, Gibbon, Voltaire, Rousseau, and their disciples, in favour of oppressed find deluded humanity, are entitled to the gra- titude of mankind. Yet it is easy to calculate the degree of moral and intel- lectual improvement which the world would have exhibited bad they never lived. A little more nonsense wmild. have been talked for a centAy or tics; .ammil perhaps a few more men, women, anmi children hi ent as heretics. We might not at this moment have hem congratulating. each other on the abolition of the Inquisition in Spain. But it ex.yeds al! imagination to conceive what. would have been the moral condition of the world if neither Dante, Petrarcb, Boreacio, Chaucer, Shakspere, Calderon, Lord Bacon, nor Milton, had ever existed ; if Raphael and Michael An4elo had never b.atit born ; if the llebrew poetry had never been translated; if a revival of the study of Greek liters, ture haul never taken place ; if no monuments of ancient sculpture had been handad dowo, to its ; and if the poetry of time religion of the ancient world had been extinguished together with its belief. The human mind could never, ex- cept by the intervention of these excitements, have been awakened to the invention of the grosser SCICIICCE, and that application of analytical reasoning to the aberrations of society, which it is now attempted to exalt over the direct expression of the inventive and creative theulty The second volume, though containing some things of little or no interest, is much superior to the first in the weight and charac- ter of its matter; being more solid, more real, and having valuable biographical points. It opens with a naïve journal, kept by Mrs. Sine.ree-, of a Continental tour made in 1814 by her husband, herself, and a female friend, with the idea of settling in Switzer- land or Italy. The young enthusiasts proposed to travel on foot from Paris, with an ass to carry the baggage and one of the ladies, turn and turn about. The ass was found to be lazy and useless : mule was then bought, but turned out little better ; and SHELLEY sprained his ankle. They then engaged a \ that carried

them to Switzerland. A consultation shortly became necessary on the ways and means; which were finind to amount to twenty-eight pounds sterling,—a sum too little to keep them where they were, or to carry them back by the way they came; so they floated down tributary streams till they reached the Rhine, which they descended

in a passage-boat, or diligence par eau—lbr steamers had not then appeared upon any European waters. And, says Mrs. Sueerrie

writing at the time, "nothing could be more horribly disgusting

than the lower order of smoking, drinking Germans who travelled with us ; they swaggered, and talked, and got tipsy, and, what was hideous to English eyes, kissed one another." There is nothing striking in the account of the tour itself; but it has an odd sort of interest, as showing the effect which foreign scenes and manners, and the devastations of war, (NAPOLEON had just abdicated,) pro-

duced orm minds which were contemplating. human perfectibility, after the' fashion of Queen Mab..

This journal is followed by some letters descriptive of SHELLEY'S first residence at Geneva, and of a tour he made amongst the Alps in company with Lord BYRON ; and contain several passages of powerful landscape-painting. To these succeed a record of ghost- stories told him by Monk LEWIS, prefaced by a remark which reads oddly from the Atheist SHELLEY, and shows what a singular mixture his theological or philosphical system was—the denial ofa creative power, with a belief in a future state and the immortality of the soul.

" See Apollo's Sexton, who tells us many mysteries of his trade. We talk of ghosts. Neither Lord Byron nor M. G. L. seem to believe in them and they both agree, ht the very face of reason, that none could believe in ghosts without believing in God. I do not think that all the persons who profess to discredit these visitations, really discredit them ; or, if they do in the daylight, are not admonished by the approach of loneliness and midnight, to think more respectfully of the world of shadows."

The remainder of the second volume, and by far the most valu- able part of the whole collection, consists of Letters front Italy, addressed by SHELLEY to a few friends. The subjects of theta are, like all unsophisticated correspondence, of a very various kind. Sometimes they relate to personal feelings or pursuits, or to the incidents of daily life ; sometimes they describe the features of the country, and the character of the Italians ; snore frequently they contain very powerful descriptive criticisms on modern and ancient art • or narrate the effect which the remains of the classical and mile ages produced upon SHELLEY'S mind. A few of them indi- cate the mode of life and nature of Bynox, and show him to have been at One period more disgustingly profligate in his habits than even Mr. Moons,. let him describe himself, and always an untrust- worthy, if not a treacherous person. here is the account of his companions, and of the sources of his misanthropy.

" Deeember 22, 1518.

" My dear P.—I have received a letter from you here, dated November 1st ; yon see the reciprocation of letters from the term of our travels is more slow. I entirely agree ith what youssay about Childe Harold.' Phe spirit in which it is written is, it' insane, the most wicked and mischievous insaeity that ever was given finth. It is a kind of obstinate and self-willed folly, in which he hardens himself. I remonstrated with him hi vain on the tone of mind from which such a view of things alone arises. For its real root is very dill rent from its apparent one. Nothing can be less sublime than the true raurce of these expressions of contempt and desperation. The fact is, that first, the Italian women with w horn he associates, are perhaps the most contemptible of all who exist under the moon—the most ignorant, the most disgusting, the most bigoted; * * * * an ordinary Englishman cannot ap- proach them. Well, L. B. is familiar with the lowest sort of these women, the people his gondolieei pick up in the streets. He associates with wretches who seem almost to hese list the gait and physiognomy of man, and who do not scruple to avow prim ices which are not only not named, but I believe seldom even conceived in England. He says he disapproves, but he endures. He is heartily and deeply discontented with himself; and contemplating in the dis- torted mirror °flue own thoughts the nature and the destiny of man, what can he behold but objects of contempt and despair? But that he is a great poet, I think the Address to Ocean proves. And he has a certain degree of candour while You talk to him ; but unfortunately it does not outlast your departure. No, I ao not doubt, and, for his sake, 1 ought to hope, that his present career

must cud soon in some violent circumstance."

After he had focused his connexion with the Griceiom, Bynox led a much more regular life : but SHELLEY had discernment to perceive, when he looked closer, that it was rather an external than for he thus writes to a friend—

awaits him impesiestly, is a very pretty, sentimental, has sacrificed an immense fortune for the sake of

if I is now any thing of my ;lima, of her, and of human have plenty of lcisitre mid opportunity to l'Op(11t her hoivever; quite cured of his grO:i as her as ruts on which they were formed arc not yet eradicated." an inward change ; "l.a G ttieeioti. who innocent 1 xylv Lord 11 von, it wino nature, will hereafter rashness. Lord Byno habits; the perverse id In reference to tile much-talked of Liberal, and Linen Hewes unlucky expedition to Italy, he writes to his wife- " I have speken to him of Hunt, but not with a direct view of demanding a contribution ; and though I am sure that if asked it would not be refused, yet there is something in me that makes it impossible. Lord Byron and I are excellent friends ; and were I reduced to poverty, or were I a writer who had no claims to a higher station than I possese, or did I possess a higher than I deserve, we should appear in all things as such, and I would freely ask him any favour. Such is not the case. The (Lemon of mistrust and pride lurks between two persons in our situation, poisoning the freedom of our intercourse. This is a tax, and a henry mu, which we must lay for being human. I think the fault is not on my side ; nor is it likely, I heiug the weaker. I hope that in the next world these things will be better managed. What is passing in the heart 01 another, rarely escapes the observation of one who is a strict anatomist of his own."

Again, in writing to IIext• himself-

" I did not musk Lord Byron to assist me in sending a remittance for your journey, because there are men, however excellent, from whom we would never receive an obligation, in the worldly sense of the word ; and I am as jealous for my friend as for myself; but I suppose that I shall at last make up an im- pudent face, and ask I lorace Smith to add to the many obligations he has con- ferred on me. I know I need only ask." As time passed, he began to have ids doubts of the prudence of the step. " Between ourselves," he writes, " I greatly fear that this alliance will not succeed ; for I, who could never have been regarded as more than the link of the two thunderbolts, cannot now consent to be even that." When HuNy arrived, this was the way in which BYRON behaved in a business matter, where regu- larity and definite conduct is one of the main essentials of success- " I have as yet made no inquiries about 'houses near Pugnano : I have no mo- ment of time to spare from Hunt's affairs; I am detained unwillingly here, and you will probably see Williams in the boat before me, but that will be decided to-morrow.

" Things arc in the worst possible situation with respect to poor Hunt. I find Marianne in a desperate state of health, and on our arrival at Pisa sent for Vocal. He decides that her case is hopeless, and that although it will be lin- gering, must inevitably end fatally. This decision he thought proper to com- municate to Hunt, indicating at the same time, with great judgment and pre-

cision, the treatment necessary to be observed for availing himself of the eXance of his being deceived. This intelligence has extinguished the last spark of poor Hunt's spirits, low enough before. The children are well and much im- proved.

"Lord Byron is at this moment on the point of leaving Tuscany. The Combas have been exiled, aud he declares his intention of following their for- tunes. His first idea was to sail to America, which was changed to Switzer- land, then to Genoa, and last to Lucca. Every-body is in despair, and every thing hi confusion. Trelawny was on the point of sailing to Genoa, for the pur- pose of transporting the Bolivar overland to the lake of Geneva, and had already whispered in my car his desire that I should not influence Lord Byron against this terrestrial navigation. He next received orders to weigh anchor and set sail for Lerici. Ile is now without instructions, moody fuel disap- pointed. But it is the worst for poor Hunt, unless the present storm should blow over. He places his whole dependence upon the scheme of a journal, for which every arrangement has been made. Lord Byron must, of course, furnish the necessary funds at present, as I cannot ; but he seems inclined to depart without the necessary explanations and arrangements due to such a situation as Hunt's. These, in spite of delicacy, I must procure."

Turning from this subject, let us take some miscellaneous spe- cimens.

AN ITALIAN num:It-norm NEAR TERRARA.

The country is flat, but intersected by lines of wood trellised with vines, whose broad leaves are now stamped wills the redness of their decay. Every here and there one sees people employeil in agricultural labours, and the plough, the harrow, or the cart, drawn by long teams of milk-white or dove-coloured oxen of immense size and exquisite beauty. This indeed might be the country of Pasiphaes. In one farm-yard I was shown sixty-three ot these lovely oxen, tied to their stalls, in excellent condition. A farm-yard in this part of Italy is somewhat diGrent li.osn one in England. First, the house, which is large and high, with strange looking unpainted window-shutters, generally closed, and dreary beyond conception. The farm-yard and out-buildings, imwever, are usually in the neatest order. The threshing-floor is not undercover; but, like that deseribed in the Georgics, usually flattened by a broken column, and neither the mole nor the toad nor the ant can find on its area a crevice for their dwellings Around it, at this seasmi, are piled the stacks of the leaves and stalks of Indian corn which has lately been thrsshed and dried upon its surface. At a little distance are vast heaps of many-coloured zucchi or pump- kins, some of enormous size, piled fl3 winter food for the hogs. There are turkies. too, and fowls wandering about, and two or three dogs, who bark with a sharp hylactism. 'The people who are occupied with the care of these things seem neither ill clothed nor and the blunt incivility of their manners has an English air with it Vt.'1'S discouraging to those who are accustomed to the impudent and polished lying of the inhabitants of the cities.

TASSO AND ARIOSTO.

There is 'here (at Ferrara) a mimuscript of the entire " Gernsalemme Libe. rata," written by Toso's own hand ; a manuscript of sonic poems, written in prison, to the Duke Alfonso ; and the Satires of Ariosto, written also by his own hand ; and the " Pastor Edo" of Guarini. The Gerusidemme, though it had evidently been copied and recopied, is interlined, particularly towards the end, with numerous corrections. The handwriting of striosto is a small, firm, and poluted character, expressing, as I should say, a strong and keen but cir- cumscribed energy of mind; that of Tasso is large, free, and flowing, except that there is a checked expression in the midst of its flow, which brings the letters into a smaller compass than one expected from the beginning of the word. It is the symbol of an intense and earnest mind, exceeding at times its own depth, and admonished to return by the chillness of the waters of oblivion striking upon its adventurous feet. You know I always seek in what I see the manifestation of something beyond the present and tangible object; and as we do not agree in physiognomy, so we may not agree now. But my business is to relate my own sensations, and not to attempt to inspire others with them. Some of the MSS. of Tam were sonnets to his persecutor, svhich contain a great deal of what is called flattery. if Alfonso 's ghost were asked how he felt those prai-es now, I wonder what he would say. But to me there is much more to pity tlian to e sidemn in these entreaties and praises of Tasso. It is as a bigot prays to and praiees his god, whom he knows to be the most remorseless, capricious, and index tole of tyrants, but whom he knows also to be omnipotent. situation was O idely different from that of any persecuted being of the present day ; for, from the depth of dungeons, public opinion might now at halgth be awakened to an echo that would startle the oppressor. But then there wa.f no hope. TI: etc is something irresistibly pathetic to me in the sight of Taeso S OW11 il!111■1;; riling, moulding exprea sums or adulation and entreaty to a deaf and stupid tyrant, it an age when the most heroic virtmoe. would have exposed its posessor tm hops.leee persecution, and—such is the alliance between virtue and tMli,is—IV1111.11 11110:1C uding genius could not escape. We went afterwards to set: his prison in the hospital of Sane Anna; and I enclose you a piece of die wood of the very door which for seven years and three months divided tins glorious being from the air amid the light which had nourished in him those influences svhich he has communicated, through his poetry, to thoneande. The dimgeon is low and dark, and when I say that it is really a very decent dungeon, I speak as one who has seen the prisons in the Doge's palace of Venice. But it is a horrible abode for the coursest anul meanest thing that ever wore the shape of man, much more for one of delicate suscepti- bilities and elevated fanciee. It is low, and has a grated window, and being sunk some feet below the level of the earth, is full of unwholesome damps. In the darkest corner is a mark in the wall where the chains were riveted, which bound him hand and foot. After sonic time, at the instance of some Cardinal, his friend the Duke allowed his victim a fire-place; the mark where it was waned up yet remains.

The reader will have perceived in the remarks upon Briton., evi- dence of a clearer common sense in SHELLEY, than he may have ex- pected from the timciful character of his poems or time ideality of his moral and political speculations. But there is much stronger evidence of it in many other letters; as well as of a practical prudence, and very great consideration for the interests and feelings of others. His tastes appear to have been exceedingly simple, his disposition very affectionate, and his life regular and exact in all the domestic and social relations, forming a striking contrast to the mysterious tales hinted at in the reviews of the time. A know- ledge of his Let tors is indeed essential to a due understanding of SHELLEY'S character ; and it is to be regretted that his wife did not exercise a better judgment in her selections for publication. One half of the work would form a necessary and very agreeable supplement to the Poems.