men to enquiry on some of the most important subjects that can occupy the human mind, and awakening among the writers of his times a freer spirit of reasoning, and a bolder tone of philosophising, than had before existed in the country. "All these (writers)," says Burnet, "and those that were formed under them, studied to examine farther into the nature of things than had been done formerly. They declared against superstition on the one hand, and enthusiasm on the other. They loved the constitution of the church, and the liturgy, and could well live under them; but they did not think it unlawful to live under another form. They wished that things might have been carried with more moderation: and they continued to keep a good correspondence with those who differed from them in opinion, and allowed a great freedom both in philosophy and divinity, from whence they were called men of latitude; and upon this, men of narrower thoughts, and fiercer tempers, fastened upon them the name of latitudinarians."* This was in the year 1661. * Burnet's Hist. own Times, v. i. p. 188, fol. edit.

We must allow, also, that certain anachronisms occur in the novel of Kenilworth, which had been better avoided; because, as they regard a period of our history, the consecutive events of which are well known, they necessarily detract much from that air of probability, which forms the principal interest of such compositions. Few modern readers are ignorant, for instance, that Amy Robsart's marriage with Dudley took place when both parties were very young; long before those prospects had opened upon him, which were the great incitement to his future atrocities: and that, as soon as the chance of his allying himself either to Elizabeth or Mary appeared, he freed himself from the conjugal fetters by the destruction of his wedded wife. Nor is it less notorious, that Elizabeth's visit to Kenilworth took place many years after Amy's death; and that, long subsequently to this visit, Leicester formed that matrimonial connexion with the widow of Essex; the Queen's discovery of which occasioned the sudden paroxysm of rage, and transient resolves vengeance upon Leicester, which are so

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admirably described, but so egregiously misplaced in the volumes before us. But all these, and other minor defects, are mere spots in the sun, lost in the blaze of splendour which bursts out from every page of this extraordinary work. The genius of the times of which the novelist wrote, seems to have identified itself with his own fancy; and as he mingled with manners and imagery peculiarly congenial to his taste, he has transfused into their description a degree of vigour and brilliancy quite unmatched, not only in the works of any other novelist, but not to be paralleled even in his own, with, perhaps, the solitary exception of Ivanhoe. The genius of chivalry, indeed, had, long before the reign of Elizabeth, been scared from England, by the tedious and cruel contest between the houses of York and Lancaster; which had quenched, in selfish, unsocial, and ferocious feelings, the romantic courtesy and high-minded generosity of the age of knighthood. But the peculiar taste and egregious vanity of the English queen had recalled to her court the shadow of the departed institution; and substituted in

the room of the reality, a semblance of it, approximating, as nearly as possible, in form and fashion, to the gorgeous original. The quaint gallantry and formal devotion to the softer sex were revived; the splendid chivalric shews of past ages were imitated; the exhibitions of the tilt-yard supplied the place of the ancient tournament; and certain offices, connected with knighthood, were once more conferred, which had, in the "olden time," given real dignity and political importance to those who held them.

In consequence of this restored taste for the striking peculiarities of chivalry, the court of Elizabeth exhibited a whimsical scene of clumsy magnificence, real brilliancy, and affected gallantry, admirably adapted to impress the imagination of a writer, so sensitive and spirited as the author of Kenilworth; and, it cannot be denied, that he has displayed its characteristic phases, with marvellous vividness and truth. Elizabeth herself was the chief performer on this fantastic theatre. She is, therefore, very properly, made to occupy the place of the prima donna, in the author's

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drama: nor do we think, that any one of his high-bred females, in any one of his novels, is represented with so much nature and power as this extraordinary woman. But her character was exactly suited to his conceptions; full of strong, bold, and anti-feminine points; and diluted with nothing soft or delicate; a "lion-hearted queen," 99 as Hollinshed denominates her; and a violent, capricious, and malignant woman, as her personal history demonstrates her to have been; whose life was a careless exhibition of paroxysms of passion, or contemptible weaknesses, except when controlled by policy, or concealed by a crafty attention to her interests. The situations in which the author has presented this moral anomaly to the reader, are skilfully selected from the records of history, to display, with the best possible effect, all her violent and varied feelings; and whether she scolds or flatters, rages or relents, her anger and her love, her pride and her vanity, her jealousy and duplicity, are so forcibly depicted, that an irresistible conviction rushes upon the mind, of the copy being a very fac simile of the