fish are now to be found. But this desertion of the rivers, by the salmon, has been occasioned by causes totally different from the success of the fisheries in the friths below; in short, by their being impregnated with deleterious substances pernicious to the fish, and which it therefore avoids. This is the reason why such rivers as the Thames and Clyde are deserted; and, for the very same reason, other rivers will be deserted in their turn, whenever their banks are covered with manufactories, and they become the recipients of the deleterious matter discharged from them. In corroboration of this statement, the author mentions a striking fact, which he gives " on the authority of a highly-respectable and intelligent fisher." The produce of the Salmonfishery on the Coquet, a small river in England, was at one time very considerable; but all at once the fish deserted it. This at first naturally excited surprise; but it was soon discovered that the desertion had been occasioned by the adulteration of the water, in consequence of the ingredients discharged into it from a tin manufactory on the upper part of the river. The water had, in consequence, become impregnated with noxious matter, and not a salmon would enter it. It is therefore evident that any diminution in the produce of certain rivers, or even their entire desertion by the salmon, is to be ascribed to causes very different indeed from a decrease in the number of the fish. But there is another consideration, which must convince every unprejudiced mind, that the idea of the ultimate extinction of the salmon species, by any improvements in the mode of capture, is wholly visionary and ridiculous. It has been ascertained, by a very simple process, that the roe of an ordinary salmon contains from 1700 to 2000 ova. But even supposing that the number of fish brought into life from each spawner was much smaller, how few spawningfish would be sufficient for the production of all that man could consume! The average produce of the Tay-fisheries is supposed to be about 30,000. Suppose, however, that, by permitting the use of stake-nets, the produce of the river and frith, and adjacent coast, were to be in creased to ten times, the number, or 300,000; how small is the proportion of breeding-fish necessary for rearing this number, when compared with the number of fish which actually spawn in the Tay and its tributary streams! The extent of propagation being thus altogether unlimited, it is utterly impossible that even the most successful fishery could in any degree affect the existence of the species, were the close-time properly regulated, every obstacle in the way of the breeders to the spawning-ground removed, the spawn suffered to remain undisturbed after it has been deposited, and, finally, the fry protected in their descent to their natural element, the ocean. Having thus conclusively demonstrated the fallacy of all the objections to the method of fishing by stake-nets, and clearly established the expediency of an immediate revision and alteration of the existing law, the author concludes, by pointing out a few of the public advantages which would be derived from an extension of the Salmon-fishery. (1.) In the first place, it would break down, in favour of the public, that unjust monopoly, which has already too long subsisted in favour of a single class of proprietors. It would give to every heritor along the coast that natural use and enjoyment of his property, from which he ought never to have been excluded. It would open the general market of the country to a wide and extensive competition. And by securing an inexhaustible supply, it would, at a moderate and comparatively steady price, place within the reach of all classes of the population, as an ordinary article of rich and wholesome food, what is at present to be found only as a luxury at the tables of the opulent. The (2.) Nor would the resulting benefit be confined to this. The quality of the salmon caught would be as much improved, as its quantity would be increased. salmon of the ocean is well known to be infinitely superior to the salmon which is taken in the fresh-water. From the moment it seeks the rivers, it loses its strength, diminishes even in weight, and gradually sickens, and becomes emaciated and diseased. The firmness and richness of the sea-fish is by this time gone; and the salmon now grows comparatively soft and insipid,—at certain seasons absolutely unwholesome. (3.) Besides, even in a national point of view, the extension of the salmon-fish ery is an object of no small importance. The general prosperity of the country is mainly dependent on the prosperity of all the various classes of individuals composing its population. Here, then, is a vast additional source of private revenue opened up. An extensive line of coast, which yields no return whatever, holds out a promise of riches at present incapable of calculation. Nor is it the mere proprietors of the coast, and those directly em ployed at the fishery, who will be bene fited. Employment, and, of course, a correspondent remuneration in the shape of wages, will spread on all sides. A new impetus to exertion will be given, in districts where, at present, all is inactivity and silence. Villages will rise up along the shores, still further to disseminate the progress of amelioration. And what, in a maritime state such as this, may perhaps, to the eye of the statesman, appear still more important, the new mode of fishing will add both to the resources and strength of the country, by rearing a race of hardy and indefatigable seamen, and giving employment to a very great additional tonnage of shipping, which would otherwise never have existed. By the preceding copious analysis, we have endeavoured to put our readers in possession of the novel and valuable information contained in this Pamphlet ; and, as far as lies in our power, to contribute to the attainment of one great object contemplated by the author, namely, exciting public attention to a subject of national importance. This of itself cannot fail to be productive of much good. Were the light thrown upon the subject by this masterly Pamphlet to be widely and generally diffused, (and this is now inevitable,) the absurd monopoly of the "upper heritors," founded upon acts passed in a rude and barbarous age, could not exist a single day. Indeed these sagacious persons appear to have had a sort of "fatal presentiment" that the hollow-grounds upon which they have rested their pretensions would soon give way under them, unless fortified and upheld by some fresh supports. Accordingly, they have smuggled into the House of Commons a Bill, "for regulating and improving the Salmon-fisheries in the river Tay, and the rivers or streams running into or communicating with the same," which has already been hurried through several of its stages with the utmost precipitation. The preamble to this bill sets forth, that it is intended for the public advantage, as well as for that of the owners of fisheries on the river Tay. The patrons and promoters of this bill have an odd sort of notion of the public advantage; seeing that the principal clause in the bill is obviously, though insidiously, calculated to reach and put down the stake-nets which have been erected in the ocean, near the embouchure of the Tay. It runs thus, "And be it enacted, that, if any person or persons shall place ANY THING in, over, across, or NEAR the said river Tay, or the rivers or streams running into the same, so as to prevent the fish from ENTERING, or going up or down the said river or streams, then," &c. &c. Now, under the expressions here cunningly and artfully employed, it is clear, that, if this bill pass into a law, it will be equivalent to a prohibition of all modes of fishing, except those presently in use,—will effectually prevent all future improvement, and will secure and perpetuate the injurious monopoly at present enjoyed by the fresh-water proprietors. Those persons, therefore, who possess èstates on the shores of estuaries, or near the embouchures of rivers, should instantly bestir themselves; for, most assuredly, should this TayBill be carried into a law, the principle of it will be speedily extended to the other fishing rivers in Scotland; and all future improvement, in this important branch of national industry, receive the coup-de-grace. The public, too, and, above all, the press, should make common cause with the ci-devant proprietors of stakenets; in which case, truth, and reason, and expediency, and justice, must prove more than a match for the clubbed and combined cunning, trickery, and selfishness, of a junto of country lairds, conspiring together to steal a march on the supineness of their opponents, and bolster up an odious monopoly, to the manifest injury and detriment of the kingdom The present Session of Parliament affords an instructive instance of the absurdity and inconsistency of permitting private legislation in matters of vital importance to THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED; A DRAMA. BY LORD BYRON. If there is any spectacle more peculiarly melancholy than another, it is the sight of a noble mind overthrown, and of genius sinking into a premature decay; the view of a mighty intellect wasting its energies on ribaldry and absurdity,-conscious of declining popularity, yet struggling with fretful impatience to Inaintain its hold on the public mind, by flattering its worst passions, in the cheapest and most accessible form; or endeavouring ambitiously to revive some trace of the spirit of other days, and yet only suggesting, by the comparison, the impotence of its present efforts. Were it not for the evident self-complacency and satisfaction with which Lord Byron has given to the world the late Cantos of his Don Juan, and this, his latest performance, we should have considered these publications as a series of experiments on the patience of the public, of which this last was to be considered the ne plus ultra; but the tone in which his Lordship speaks of his efforts, leaves us no room to doubt, that, whatever may be the opinion of the public, he himself entertains a very comfortable conviction of their excellence, and that the supposition of his declining popularity being in any way owing to his declining powers, will be positively the last solution of the difficulty to which his Lordship will be likely to have recourse. We confess we have yielded reluctantly to the conviction that such is the case; because we are hardly disposed to consider such capricci as Don Juan (the mere de lassmens of a great mind) as affording any fair index of the rise or fall of his poetical powers; but the present publication, we think, has brought the question fairly to issue, and of the result we think no human being can entertain a doubt. In short, it seems as if his career was destined to end as it began; and that the short-lived brilliancy, which succeeded the lowering morning of his poetical day, is likely to terminate in the gloom and silence of neglect. We are inclined to consider the present work as peculiarly calculated to bring the point fairly to trial, because the subject, however objectionable in its tendencies, is obviously one that is particularly congenial to the feelings of the author ;-eminently calculated to call forth that melancholy and sarcastic eloquence that bound the public mind with its resistless spells, so long and so willingly-and that strange succession and contrast, of contempt and insensibility to the virtues and the sufferings of mankind, with occasional relentings, and involuntary abandonment to gentler themes and softer feelings. In the present Drama, he has adopted the idea of Goëthe ; and the Cæsar of the play, a reproduction of Mephistophilis, accompanies the hero through the varied scenes of hu man life, sneering at mankind, laughing down all generous and noble emotions, dissolving fair illusions, and exposing the weaknesses that alloy the purest displays of human virtue; while the hero himself, yet in the first flush of youthful feeling, yields slowly and reluctantly to the deadening vices of his infernal instructor. To attempt such a delineation after the State. At the very time that this Tay-Bill is making the grand tour of Parlia ment, another Bill has been introduced for amending and improving the Act of 1804, in relation to the fishings on the Solway, which are exempted from the operation of the Gothic Acts that affect the other Salmon-fisheries of Scotland, and in which stakenets are not only not prohibited, but in full operation. These Bills are diametrically opposed to each other, in principle and in object; and should both be carried into laws, Parliament will be placed in the strange predicament of declaring one and the same thing, at one and the same time, to be lawful and unlawful. "Is it possible," asks our author, "to deny, that there is urgent necessity for FULL INQUIRY into the state of that law under which such things can occur ?" Y Y VOL. XIV. Goëthe, was a dangerous task; but, perhaps, of all men, Lord Byron was the one apparently most calculated to surmount the difficulty; and yet we say with confidence, that a more worthless and miserable performance, a work more utterly devoid of poetry, (we say nothing of principle,) we have never had the misfortune to peruse. But our readers shall judge for themselves. The plot, or at least the commencement, is taken from a very wild and original romance, which we remember to have read many years ago, entitled the Three Brothers. The scene, however, which Lord Byron has selected, is certainly not a favourable specimen. It is this: Arnold, a deformed youth, wearied with the persecution of his mother, Bertha, is about to commit suicide, when suddenly a cloud comes over a neighbouring fountain; and from the mist a tall, dark figure comes forward, who after sneering (not very successfully) at his hump, informs him that it is in his power to bestow upon him a more attractive form. Arnold readily embraces the offer, and the shadows of Julius Cæsar, Alcibiades, Socrates, Anthony, Demetrius Poliorcetes, and Achilles, successfully pass before him. Arnold chuses the shape of the last. The following chorus describes the process by which the change is effected, and let those who recollect the choruses in Manfred, say what they think of this: [The Stranger takes some earth, and moulds it along the turf, and then addresses the Phantom of Achilles. Beautiful shadow Of Thetis's boy! Who sleeps in the meadow, Whose grass grows o'er Troy : From the red earth, like Adam, Thy likeness I shape, As the Being who made him, Whose actions I ape. Thou clay, be all glowing, Till the rose in his cheek Be as fair as, when blowing, It wears its first streak! Ye violets! I scatter, Now turn into eyes! And thou sunshiny water, Of blood take the guise! Let these hyacinth boughs Be his long, flowing hair. And wave o'er his brows, As thou wavest in air! Let his heart be this marble I tear from the rock! But his voice as the warble Of birds on yon oak! Let his flesh be the purest Of mould, in which grew The lily-root surest, And drank the best dew! Let his limbs be the lightest Which clay can compound! Be mingled and stirred, And leap to my word! This earth's animation! His stand in creation! The stranger then assumes the cast-off body of Arnold, with this magnificent address : Clay! not dead, but soul-less! Though no man would choose thee, An immortal no less Deigns not to refuse thee. Clay thou art; and unto spirit All clay is of equal merit. Fire! without which nought can live; Save the fabled Salamander, Praying what doth not forgive, Burning in a quenchless lot: Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm, Save the worm which dieth not, Can preserve a moment's form, But must with thyself be blent : Fire! man's safeguard and his slaughter: Fire! Creation's first-born daughter, And Destruction's threatened son, When Heaven with the world hath done: After this metamorphosis, Arnold and his infernal companion set off to seek pleasure and excitement in their favourite haunts. Their first visit is to Rome, then besieged by the Constable of Bourbon, under whose banners Arnold enlists himself and his companion. The following is part of a conversation between these friends under the walls: Arnold. The sun goes down as calm and the hump-backed satirest ob ly, and perhaps More beautifully, than he did on Rome Casar. Yes, sir. You forget I am or was Spirit, till 1 took up with your cast shape And a worse name. I'm Cæsar and a hunch-back Now. Well! the first of Cæsars was a bald-head, And loved his laurels better as a wig (So history says) than as a glory. Thus The world runs on, but we'll be merry still. I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same womb, Because he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be ;) and Rome's earliest cement Was brother's blood; and if its native blood Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red slaughter For ages. Arnold.-No. [Remounts the ladder. Caesar.-A rare blood-hound, when his own is heated! And 'tis no boy's play. Now he strikes them down! His hand is on the battlement-he grasps As though it were an altar; now his foot The first bird of the covey! The Wounded Man.-A drop of water! Nearer than Tiber. Wounded Man. I have died for Rome. [Dies. Casar. And so did Bourbon, in ano ther sense. Oh these immortal men! and their great motives! But I must after my young charge. He is Arnold. But what have these done, By this time i' the forum. Charge! their far Remote descendants, who have lived in peace, The peace of heaven, and in her sunshine of Piety? charge! [Cæsar mounts the ladder; the scene closes. Several scenes of blood and outrage follow within the city. Arnold fights with Benvenuto Cellini and is wound Casar. And what had they done, ed-enters St. Peter's just as Olim whom the old Romans o'erswept ?-Hark! Arnold. They are soldiers singing A reckless roundelay, upon the eve Of many deaths, it may be of their own. Caesar. And why should they not sing as well as swans ? They are black ones, to be sure. And these are the sarcasms that are to render goodness a'name," and happiness a dream!" These are the effusions which this rival of Goëthe pours forth under the inspiration of Faust and the Three Brothers! The attack on the city is prefaced by another chorus, in which an admirable opportunity of introducing a splendid ode is totally lost; and in its stead, we are presented with one of the dullest rhapsodies we ever recollect to have perused. Bourbon falls, pia is about to be sacrificed to the brutality of his soldiers-and endeavours in vain to persuade her to place herself under his protection. She rejects his offer with indignation, and dashes herself from the altar on the pavement. Arnold exclaims :— Arnold.-Eternal God! I feel thee now! Help! help! She's gone. Arnold.-Oh! she is lifeless! She be so, I have nought to do with that: Arnold.-Slave! Casar. Aye, slave or master, 'tis all one methinks |