such characters on a private theatre has not made many "a gay Lothario," and many "a Fair Penitent," in sad and sober reality.

You may think, Gentlemen, that I write with useless vehemence, and dwell upon the subject at an unnecessary length. But it is a subject of which my heart is full; and I write from the recollection of a circumstance, which I have myself seen, and felt, and deplored. I allude to a very unfortunate occurrence, which took place in a family of some distinction in this kingdom. The real facts of the case are fresh upon my mind; but I can only mention them, somewhat adumbrated and disguised, in the hope that the general moral may be conveyed without injury to individual feelings.

The following narration relates to a young lady of the most respectable, and even high, connexions. She had a considerable share both of personal beauty and of natural genius and sensibility:-gifts, which are a blessing or a curse to the possessor, according to the force of circumstances; and which are, perhaps, most frequently the latter in the present system of society. Her education was such as female education in this country usually is; but from some cause or other, her mind was early inoculated and imbued with notions of devoted love, unquenchable ardour, and romantic constancy. She had indulged, from infancy, and without restraint, her taste for poetry in general, and more particularly for the dramatic authors. It happened, too, that one of her relations had fitted up a kind of private theatre in his house, in which he was fond of representing such plays, as I have mentioned,-sentimental tragi-comedies, or tragedies, where the main-spring of the interest was compassion rather than terror. On all such occasions she was the heroine of the scene. Her friends were proud-justly but fatally proud, of her histrionic powers-they were proud of the grace of her person-the elegance of her attitudes-the harmony of her voice-the chastened dignity of her step and gestures-the excellence of her judgment— and the spirit and perfection with which she identified herself with every character which she assumed. Nor was she young indeed and beautiful, how should she be ?-insensible

to the homage of compliment and adulation which was paid her-nor to the gratification which she naturally derived from the display of her undoubted abilities, and her complete command over the feelings and affections of her audience. In all tender and pathetic characters she appeared to me an actress almost inimitable; and was certainly the best Juliet I ever saw. But here was the mischief. The part of the lover or the husband was generally performed by a young officer of taste, talents, and inclinations similar to her own ;-but with the usual difference which is observable in polished life, between men and women ;-and which arises from the former being exposed to more temptations, gaining a larger experience with the worst kinds of existence, and having more allowance made for their faults. She was warm and susceptible, but innocent and unsuspicious; his passions were too powerful for his principles; and from the necessity of strong excitement, and the strength of depraved habits, he was ready to abandon himself to the pursuit of any object, which held out the promise of present enjoyment, without paying much regard either to its moral character, or its worldly consequences.. The sequel is at once so melancholy, and in my opinion so. exactly what might have been expected, that I shall hurry to the conclusion. From being lovers in the play they became lovers in earnest; he made but too successful use of the facilities, opportunities, and indulgences, which. were permitted by his various characters; and moreover, stored his memory with scraps, and sentences from her favourite writers, who talked in extravagant raptures of love, cemented only by reciprocity of affection,

By holier ties

Than the church links withal :

and enabled him to insinuate to her, that a chain of roses must be still a chain; and that it must be always irksome to bear what it is impossible to break. The result may be imagined. She became, indirectly at least, the victim of her fondness for dramatic representations. It only remains to be stated in addition, that the man, to whom she sacrificed her honour, refused to marry her whom he had seduced; and fell dead upon the spot in a duel with her brother;

thus leaving two families, which were connected with each other by some degree of affinity, miserable and degraded, plunged in the full bitterness of unavailing anguish and unprofitable remorse.

Whether, Gentlemen, the circumstances which I have related present an extreme and singular case, or whether more instances of the same kind might be easily adduced, I shall not take upon myself to determine. But with the knowledge which I possess, it would be impossible for me to feel otherwise than I have felt, or to write otherwise than I have written. You will, I trust, either find space for these remarks; or yourselves pronounce your disapprobation of a species of amusement, which can hardly be attended with any advantage, and may be followed by such fatal results. You may not be inclined to go so far; but it is my settled conviction that no parent, who has a due regard for the virtue and happiness of a daughter, will allow her to perform any part, in any play, unless she is obliged to earn her subsistence by her own exertions.-I am, Gentlemen, with sincere respect for your efforts to advance the public good, Your very obedient servant,

"THE LIBERAL; VERSE And prose froM THE SOUTH.” Postscript to Lord Byron.

WE have already had occasion, in our present number, to remark the strange abuse and misapplication of terms. The instances, which then presented themselves to us, were the words "consistency," " moderation," "constitutionalist," in addition to which a thousand others, which it is unnecessary to mention, passed across our minds. We were still conversing upon the subject, when the first number of "The Liberal" a new periodical publication, notoriously, and almost avowedly, the joint composition of Lord Byron and Mr. Leigh

Hunt, was placed upon our council-table. The title itself, in the first instance, and still more the contents of the book upon examination, recalled to us our previous conviction, that the word "liberality" might be subjoined to the catalogue of those, which have suffered much by a frequent and wanton perversion of their meaning. We were really grieved at this confirmation of our fears. We may be told, perhaps, that the sense, which is affixed to any particular number and collocation of letters, must be a matter of little consequence. But we beg leave to observe in answer, that to attach a wrong meaning to such a word as "liberality," is an affair of very serious importance; because either the notions of honest but unreflecting men may be altogether darkened and confounded by such perversion of language; or the abuse of the name may lead to a disrelish of the thing.

We have a great regard for liberality ourselves, in the true and genuine acceptation of the term. We profess to be "Liberals." But we must claim the indulgence of explaining what we understand by liberality; and separating our own definition of it from the sense in which it is usually applied.

We imagine liberality to consist in exercising a perfect freedom of thought and opinion ourselves, and in allowing an equal freedom to other men. We e imagine liberality to consist in putting the most favourable interpretation upon their actions, and the most charitable construction upon their motives.

But it is stated, in a note to the fourth canto of Childe Harold. "We have ourselves outlived the old meaning of 'liberality,' which is now another word for treason in one country, and for infatuation in all." Is it so indeed? what has been the cause of this lamentable mistake? The fault, we humbly conceive, must rest with the men, who have assumed in various parts of Europe the title of Liberals.

The modern Liberals have many points of resemblance with the Free-Thinkers of preceding centuries. The selfstyled Free-Thinkers have been invariably most merciless in their attacks upon all freedom of thought, which has

conducted others to conclusions different from their own. The self-styled Liberals are now too often the most illiberal in their judgment upon the rest of the world.

It is, however, requisite to keep in remembrance, that the wildest doctrines are not, of necessity, the most liberal. We must farther recollect, that it is no proof of liberality, per se, to abuse the government and religion of the country; but, on the contrary, it is a proof of any thing but liberality to make assaults upon them in the gross; or in a manner which can lead to no practical result, no actual and permanent benefit to the state or to its members. Again, a spirit of positiveness and dogmatism is no mark of liberality; a love of paradoxes is no mark of liberality; the ridicule of things generally esteemed honourable or sacred, is no mark of liberality; neither flippancy nor scurrility is a mark of liberality: it is no mark of liberality to claim a monopoly of reason, or to suppose, when a difference of sentiment occurs, that the opposite party cannot by possibility have truth and justice on their side.

At least, if such things constitute liberality, we are not Liberals. Yet we repeat, that it is our wish to bear and to deserve the appellation; and that, to a certain degree, we are friends to the great cause, in which the "Liberals" of Europe are engaged. But of this hereafter. We desire, for their own sakes, and for the sake of humanity, that they would exhibit something more of the true spirit of liberality among themselves; and not afford a triumph to their enemies by plunging headlong into the very faults and follies, which they would hold up to execration and scorn.

After these preliminary remarks, which, we conceive, are hardly liable to refutation or cavil, we shall proceed to the particular work, which has given occasion to their introduction. It comes naturally under our notice, as the supervisors and censors of the periodical press; and if Lord Byron descends into the arena, he must consent to be treated, to use Johnson's phrase, like any other of the "intellectual gladiators." He has somewhere said of himself, that he is "like an Irishman in a row-anybody's customer." His name, too, and the circulation which his name is likely to give it, attach an importance to this publication, which, if