a new production now and then like an author? Or has the glowworm been exalted into the fire-fly by the greater heat of the modern Italian soil, which appears indisputable? The supposition is, I believe, that the fire-fly was brought into Europe from the New World.'-Vol. iii. p. 140, et seq.

As the fire-fly is mentioned in Dante, who died long before the discovery of the New World, the supposition that it was brought from America of course falls to the ground. There is no explaining the silence of the ancients, if they really were silent on the subject-but they may have celebrated it in a thousand works that have not come down to us, though it is no doubt very extraordinary it should not be mentioned in the extant fragments of classical literature.

On his return to England, Mr. Hunt applied himself vigourously to composition, and produced rapidly one after another a great number of works. Of that in which he attacked the memory of Byron we shall not speak, as he himself now disapproves of it, and in the present Autobiography has endeavoured to make amends for what he wrote there. The very attempt is creditable to him, though none can fail to feel that he does not yet entertain for Byron any of that respect which his genius would have commanded, had no blighting circumstances interfered. For such things, however, there is no accounting. It is far more easy to comprehend how Byron and Leigh Hunt should have separated with mutual dislike after having known each other, than that they should ever have conceived it possible they could live together. Their minds had no one quality in common. The love of poetry which would seem to have been possessed by both was essentially different in each, as we may infer from Mr. Hunt's speaking of Coleridge's poetry as superior to that of all his contemporaries. That it is more analogous to Mr. Hunt's mind we can very well understand; but that the mere strength of the critical faculty, which is very powerful in him, should not have revealed the truth, that in poetry one Byron would make a dozen Coleridges, we can only explain to ourselves through the philosophy of antipathies :

'I do not like thee Dr. Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell;

But this I know, and know full well,

I do not like thee Dr. Fell.'

Still Mr. Hunt is not what is called a good hater. Properly speaking he cannot find it in his heart to hate anybody or anything, which is the reason, we suppose, why he attempts to reconcile the world with monarchy. We are not angry, how

ever, with him for saying pretty things about it; but when he endeavours to persuade his readers that there is something less elevated and refined in democracy, our anger would be kindled did we not call to mind, that there is a Gothic twist in his idiosycrasies which disables him from perceiving the distinction between true and false refinement. The little republic of Athens was the parent of more taste and beauty than all the courts of the world put together. In fact, it would not be too much to say that one Athenian statue was worth all the art of monarchical times. But all Mr. Hunt's leanings are unclassical. He loves the romance of the middle ages, when knights, courts, and kings, had all the world to themselves, and never experiences one touch of genuine enthusiasm at the contemplation of anything bequeathed to us by the great democracy of antiquity. The same mental peculiarity explains his aversion for the United States, which he could fain persuade himself he dislikes, because it is a money-getting community. But Mr. Hunt himself is not averse from spending money, and should remember that people must get it before they spend it. His ideas on this subject, however, have arisen naturally enough from the course of his studies. He is exclusively a literary man, who, with a certain political bias, which has never been very intelligible or decided, has never bestowed any time on political investigations, and may therefore be said, without any disparagement, to know nothing whatever of politics.

In poetry he has produced very fine things in the form of small pieces. His larger poems are less to our taste. The fault of the whole is the display of an obvious desire to inculcate opinions rather than to awaken emotions, to school the world into particular theories, rather than by a broad and well-directed current of passion to float it irresistibly into the right way. It is as a writer of prose that Mr. Hunt will be chiefly remembered. His style is light, sparkling, and full of interest. You feel you are in the company of a pleasant person, who may shock you sometimes perhaps by his notions, but who being very tolerant himself deserves to be tolerated in his turn.

ART. III.-Omoo: A Narrative of Adventures in the South Seas. By Herman Melville. London: Routledge. 1850.

FALSEHOOD is a thing of almost invincible courage; overthrow it to-day, and with freshened vigour it will return to the lists tomorrow. 'Omoo' illustrates this fact. We were under the illusion that the abettors of infidelity and the partisans of popery had been put to shame by the repeated refutation and exposure of their slanders against the Protestant missions' in Polynesia; but Mr. Melville's production proves that shame is a virtue with which these gentry are totally unacquainted, and that they are resharpening their missiles for another onset.

In noticing Mr. Melville's book, our object is to show that his statements respecting the Protestant Mission in Tahiti are perversions of the truth-that he is guilty of deliberate and elaborate misrepresentation, and-admitting the accuracy of the account which he gives of himself, and taking his own showing with regard to the opportunities he had to form a correct opinion on the subject that he is a prejudiced, incompetent, and truthless witness. This is our object; and we intend that Mr. Melville himself shall establish the chief counts in our indictment. The conclusion is obvious: if we thus sustain our charges against him on so serious and grave a topic, it, of course, follows that his South-Sea narratives-instead of being esteemed, as some of our leading contemporaries have pronounced them to be, faithful pictures of Polynesian life-should at once take their place beside the equally veracious pages of Baron Munchausen ! In the Preface to Omoo,' Mr. Melville says:

In every statement connected with missionary operations a strict adherence to facts has of course been scrupulously observed; and in some instances, it has even been deemed advisable to quote previous voyagers in corroboration of what is offered as the fruit of the author's own observations. Nothing but an earnest desire for truth and good has led him to touch upon this subject at all. And if he refrains from offering hints as to the best mode of remedying the evils which are pointed out, it is only because he thinks that after being made acquainted with the facts, others are better qualified to do so.'

This paragraph plainly manifests that Mr. Melville was perfectly aware of the nature of the task in which he engaged when he attacked the Polynesian missionary operations.' Whatever else he may be guilty of, none can accuse him of want of deliberation. He is not unconscious of the importance of his statements. He intimates that he has carefully weighed

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every word he has penned. The passage also marks his fear, lest, in the multitude of jocularities with which his book abounds, the reader should lose sight of the 'facts' to which he here alludes. Like a dexterous master of fence,' he adroitly anticipates any imputation of foul play, by assuring us that he has scrupulously observed' the truth. He quietly insinuates that he is not the only one who has noted the same deplorable condition of things, and therefore he deems it advisable to quote previous voyagers' in support of what he has written. Finally, he reveals his motive for bringing the subject thus prominently before the public. Do not err, good reader! He is no emissary of the Propaganda, no elève of Father Roothan, no good hater' of Protestantism, but, on the contrary—if we take his own word for it—he is an earnest lover of the truth; and, if he were not, nothing could lead him to touch on this subject at all!' Thus our author, with no common skill, throws the reader off his guard, and prepares him to receive, without doubt, what follows.

It is, however, worthy of notice, that he refrains from suggesting any remedy for the 'evils' he describes. He knew he could consistently recommend but one, and that would be the complete abandonment of our missions in the South Seas, and the entire withdrawal of all confidence and support from the London Missionary Society. This Mr. Melville does not propose. But why does he not? The reason is as visible as light at noonday it would uncover the cloven foot, and betray the real object for which Omoo' was written! He is evidently too deeply versed in the science of human nature not to feel confident that, in whatever quarter his assertions were credited, a single penny would never be obtained to aid South Sea, or any other, 'missionary operations; and that there, likewise, the London Missionary Society would be denounced as an organized hypocrisy.'

So much for the Preface. Now for the facts' of which it is the herald.

We begin with Mr. Melville's account of the rise and establishment of Christianity in Tahiti ; and if it does not prove to be 'a new thing' to most well-informed persons, we are strangely mistaken. The gospel, he tells us, overthrew idolatry neither by its enlightenment of the judgment, nor by its influence on the consciences, of the natives. It obtained the mastery, not by the force of persuasion, but by the persuasion of force! Here is the narrative:

Every reader of "Cook's Voyages" must remember Otoo, who in that navigator's time was king of the peninsula of Tahiti. Subsequently, assisted by the muskets of the Bounty's men, he extended

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his rule over the entire island. This Otoo before his death had his name changed into Pomaree, which has ever since been the royal patronymic. He was succeeded by his son Pomaree II., the most famous prince in the annals of Tahiti. Though a sad debauchee and drunkard, and even charged with unnatural crimes' (mark the vile insinuation), he was a great friend of the missionaries, and one of the very first of their proselytes. During the religious wars into which he was hurried by his zeal for the new faith, he was defeated and expelled from the island. After a short exile, he returned from Imeeo, with an army of eight hundred warriors, and in the battle of Naru routed the rebellious pagans with great slaughter, and re-established himself upon the throne. Thus,' exclaims Mr. Melville, by force of arms was Christianity finally triumphant in Tahiti.-P. 230.

We supposed that it became 'finally triumphant' through the influence of the law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus.' 'Nothing more erroneous,' says Mr. Melville-it was by the club-law of the drunken and debauched friend of the missionaries, Pomaree II.! This is a fair specimen of our author's mode of dealing with the Protestant missions in the South Seas. It exhibits his historic fidelity and honesty of purpose. It is impossible to mistake the animus that dictated this passage-a passage that is justly entitled to take precedence in the annals of mendacity.

In the forty-eighth and forty-ninth chapters, headed 'Tahiti as it is,' Mr. Melville propounds, at length, his opinion of the character and value of the labours of the agents of the London Missionary Society in Tahiti. He commences by saying, that it is his desire not to leave so important a subject in a state calculated to convey erroneous impressions:' and wishes it to be distinctly understood' that he has no inclination to damage the missionaries nor their cause,' but simply seeks to set forth things as they actually exist.' More effectually to make out a case against the utility of 'missionary operations,' he reminds us that the experiment of Christianizing the Tahitians has been fully triedthat the present generation have grown up under the auspices of their religious instructors-and that, although it may be urged that the labours of the missionaries have at times been more or less obstructed by unprincipled foreigners, still this in no wise renders Tahiti any less a fair illustration.' He proceeds to show, that the Tahitian mission has not failed owing to want of time sufficient for the results of the efforts of the missionaries to become apparent that it has been in existence nearly sixty years-that it has received the unceasing prayers and contributions of its friends,' and that no enterprise of the kind has called forth more devotion on the part of those engaged in it. Still, in his estimation, it has failed, and the missionaries knew

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