for the same reason; he wishes to be deceived, and all around him are ready to gratify him, by preventing the hateful truth from penetrating to his ears. Thus slumbers the monarch softly upon the collected materials of the political explosion; as the inhabitants of Vesuvius do, while the eruption is about to sweep them away. But his sleep is less pardonable than theirs, both because he always has repeated warnings, and because he is placed by Providence as a sentinel to watch over the safety of his people."

Perhaps we could not adduce a better proof of the writer's misrepresentations than thus by citing a paragraph in which a mere comparison, according to the flowers of speech, is made to beguile and mislead the mind, where a plainer and less ardent authority would have hesitated and felt that the interests at stake were too mighty and solemn to be the subject of oratorial flourish. Our last remark is, that we think the writer's vituperation, in a measure neutralizes its proposed intent, but that it will be productive of some good in a way not contemplated by him.

NOTICES.

ART. XII.-History of England, from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. By Lord MAHON. Vol. III. London: Murray.

1838.

THIS is the last volume of a satisfactory work. The author may be a Tory; but, at least in this part of the performance, nothing has met our notice. that the most liberal regard to truth and generous construction can find fault with. The noble author has evidently studied accuracy throughout rather than a display of extreme opinions or elaborately fine writing. And yet as a specimen of literary composition, while familiar and simple, it is neat even to elegance; or, perhaps we shall explain ourselves better by saying that it bears the stamp of a mind whose riches and accomplishments are so abundant and prevailing as to require nothing like effort or a Sunday dress to set them off. In regard to the higher objects of history, Lord Mahon's work will hereafter be consulted as by far the fullest and the least servile production that the era comprised by him has ever suggested or secured.

This third and concluding volume extends over about ten years; viz., from 1738 to 1748. Of course there is abundant matter for detail and criticism in reference to domestic intrigue and political insincerity. The Walpole ministry and Queen Caroline are not unfertile themes. But the great feature of the period, in the estimation of ordinary readers will be the fortunes of Prince Charlie and the rebellion of forty-five, which the noble author has illustrated with remarkable success,-the "Stuart Papers" affording him novel and valuable materials. It will be best to confine our extracts to this romantic subject, not merely for the sake of interesting our readers, but for the proper purpose of testing the writer's talents and taste. Accordingly we alight upon the young adventurer and copy his portrait belonging to that fresh era of manhood-the twenty

fourth year. Who can wonder after examining this picture that the prince should have commanded the strongest and the dearest sympathies of Scotchmen and romance-lovers?

"Charles Edward Stuart is one of those characters that cannot be portrayed at a single sketch, but have so greatly altered, as to require a new delineation at different periods. View him in his later years, and we behold the ruins of intemperance-as wasted, but not as venerable as those of time; we find him in his anticipated age a besotted drunkard, a peevish husband, a tyrannical master,-his understanding debased, and his temper soured. But not such was the Charles Stuart of 1745! Not such was the gallant prince full of youth, of hope, of courage, who, landing with seven men in the wilds of Moidart, could rally a kingdom round his banner, and scatter his foes before him at Preston and at Falkirk! Not such was the gay and courtly host of Holyrood! Not such was he, whose endurance of fatigue and eagerness for battle shone pre-eminent, even amongst Highland chiefs; while fairer critics proclaimed him the most winning in conversation, the most graceful in the dance! Can we think lowly of one who could acquire such unbounded popularity in so few months, and over so noble a nation as the Scots; who could so deeply stamp his image on their hearts that, even thirty or forty years after his departure, his name, as we are told, always awakened the most ardent praises from all who had known him, the most rugged hearts were seen to melt at his remembrance,—and tears to steal down the furrowed cheeks of the veteran? Let us, then, without denying the faults of his character, or extenuating the degradation of his age, do justice to the lustre of his manhood. The person of Charles -(I begin with this, for the sake of female readers) was tall and wellformed; his limbs athletic and active. He excelled in all manly exercises, and was inured to every kind of toil, especially long marches on foot, having applied himself to field sports in Italy, and become an excellent walker. His face was strikingly handsome, of a perfect oval and a fair complexion; his eyes light blue; his features high and noble. Contrary to the custom of the time, which prescribed perukes, his own fair hair usually fell in long ringlets on his neck. This goodly person was enhanced by his graceful manners; frequently condescending to the most familiar kindness, yet always shielded by a regal dignity, he had a peculiar talent to please and to persuade, and never failed to adapt his conversation to the taste or to the station of those whom he addressed. Yet he owed nothing to his education: it had been intrusted to Sir Thomas Sheridan, an Irish Roman Catholic, who has not escaped the suspicion of being in the pay of the British government, and at their instigation betraying his duty as a teacher. I am bound to say that I have found no corroboration of so foul a charge. Sheridan appears to me to have lived and died a man of honour; but history can only acquit him of base perfidy by accusing him of gross neglect. He had certainly left his pupil uninstructed in the most common elements of knowledge. Charles's letters, which I have seen amongst the Stuart Papers, are written in a large, rude, rambling hand, like a schoolboy's. In spelling, they are still more deficient. With him humour,' for example, becomes umer; the weapon he knew so well how to wield, is a sord; and, even his own father's name appears under the alias of Gems. Nor are these errors confined to a single language: who--to give another instance from his French-would recognise a hunting-knife in cooto de chas? I can,

therefore, readily believe that, as Dr. King assures us, he knew very little of the history or constitution of England. But the letters of Charles, while they prove his want of education, no less clearly display his natural powers, great energy of character, and great warmth of heart. Writing confidentially, just before he sailed for Scotland, he says, I made my devotions on Pentecost Day, recommending myself particularly to the Almighty on this occasion to guide and direct me, and to continue to me always the saine sentiments, which are, rather to suffer any thing than fail in any of my duties.' His young brother, Henry of York, is mentioned with the utmost tenderness; and, though on his return from Scotland he conceived that he had reason to complain of Henry's coldness and reserve, the fault is lightly touched upon, and Charles observes that, whatever may be his brother's want of kindness, it shall never diminish his own. To his father, his tone is both affectionate and dutiful: he frequently acknowledges his goodness; and when, at the outset of his great enterprise in 1745, he entreats a blessing from the pope, surely, the sternest Romanist might forgive him for adding, that he shall think a blessing from his parent more precious and more holy still."

Now for the other side of the picture :

་

"In his youth, Charles, as we have seen, had formed the resolution of marrying only a Protestant princess; however, he remained single during the greater part of his career, and when, in 1754, he was urged by his father to take a wife, he replied, The unworthy behaviour of certain ministers, the 10th of December, 1748, has put it out of my power to settle any where without honour or interest being at stake; and were it even possible for me to find a place of abode, I think our family have had sufferings enough, which will always hinder me to marry, so long as in misfortune, for that would only conduce to increase misery, or subject any of the family that should have the spirit of their father to be tied neck and heels, rather than yield to a vile ministry.' Nevertheless, in 1772, at the age of fifty-two, Charles espoused a Roman Catholic, and a girl of twenty, Princess Louisa of Stolberg. This union proved as unhappy as it was ill assorted. Charles treated his young wife with very little kindness. He appears, in fact, to have contracted a disparaging opinion of her sex in general; and I have found in a paper of his writing about that period. As for men, I have studied them closely; and were I to live till fourscore, I could scarcely know them better than now; but as for women, I have thought it useless, they being so much more wicked and impenetrable.' Ungenerous and ungrateful words! Surely as he wrote them, the image of Flora Macdonald should have risen in his heart and restrained his pen. The Count and Countess of Albany (such was the title they bore) lived together during several years at Florence, a harsh husband and an intriguing wife; until at length, weary of constraint, she eloped with her lover Alfieri. Thus left alone in his old age,Charles called to his house his daughter by Miss Walkinshaw and created her Duchess of Albany, through the last exercise of an expiring prerogative. She was born about 1753, and survived her father only one year. Another consolation of his dotage was a silly regard, and a frequent reference, to the prophecies of Nostradamus, several of which I have found among his papers. Charles afterwards returned to Rome with his daughter. His health had long been declining, and his life more than once despaired of;

but in January 1788 he was seized with a paralytic stroke, which deprived him of the use of one half of the body, and he expired on the 30th of the same month. His funeral rites were performed by his brother, the cardinal, at Frascati. In the vault of that church lie mouldering the remains of what was once a brave and gallant heart; and beneath St. Peter's dome, a stately monument, from the chisel of Canova, has since arisen to the memory of James the Third, Charles the Third, and Henry the Ninth, kings of England-names which an Englishman can scarcely read without a smile or a sigh !"

ART. XIII.-Historical Tales of the Southern Counties. 2 vols. London Saunders and Otley. 1838.

THESE Tales of the Southern Counties, not Countries as the title reads, owing to a typographical error in the last number of our journal, are the production of a young man, we presume, as well as of an aspirant for public favour who has never before attempted a work upon a plau so extensive and difficult to execute. If such be the case we congratulate him, the performance being full of promise and positive beauty. It appears to us that the author has not merely made himself intimately acquainted with the periods and the local traditions he seeks to illustrate, but that he possesses the art and the taste to fuse such materials into effective stories. style is remarkable for its grace, while his imagination is keenly alive to the picturesque.

His

The Tales are three in number, viz, "The Sea Kings," being a story of the times of Alfred the Great, "Sir Walter Tyrrel," a Norman story, and "William of Normandy." We cannot of course, undertake to mangle any of the three by an oultine of the plot, nor shall we mar any of the best scenes by fragments which would be doing injustice to a nicely connected narrative. It will not, however, be acting unfairly either to author or reader if we extract two or three paragraphs from the very beginning of the first story.

"On the southern coast of Sussex, near its western extremity, bordering on Hampshire, a huge shapeless cliff of chalk-down, called Bow-hill, raises itself, eight or nine miles inland, overlooking the tract of level and fertile country which spreads from the foot of the declivity down to the sea-shore, like a gigantic sentinel detached from the main body of the South Downs, and forming an advanced guard. The eastern and southeastern sides of this elevation are scooped out into several deep and abrupt dells, the largest of which is clothed with thickets of holly, ash, and juniper, and distinguished by a grove of yew trees, of such an age and enormous size as are seldom or never to be met with elsewhere, except single in some of our country church-yards, forming altogether a secluded scene of extraordinary and picturesque beauty. A few scattered trees of the same sort are also to be found on the summit of the hill, but stunted and distorted in their growth by the effects of the south-western blasts, which sweep keenly over the waste, impregnated with salt spray from the channel and the great Atlantic ocean. Short furze and heather clothe the ground between them, varied here and there with dwarfish blackthorns, whose branches are twisted into a thousand fantastic and capricious shapes, and variegated

with the black and white mosses and lickens, which thrive in abundance on every stick and stone.

"But a very different scene is presented to the eye on descending into the low country, and entering on the rich fertile district lying south of the city of Chichester, called anciently the Manwode. There the land is intersected by broad ditches, whose sides are waving with tall rushes, and the banks decorated with large and luxurious ferns, among which the broad shining green leaves of the hart's-tongue or spleenwort bear witness to the dampness of the alluvial soil. Heavy crops of all kinds of grain everywhere meet the eye, and large herds of kine are seen lazily chewing the cud under the elms and among the grey willows. About the end of the seventh century, this territory or barony was granted by King Edilwalch, monarch of the South Saxons, to St. Wilfred, formerly Archbishop of York, who landed on the coast, and converted the inhabitants to Christianity. It is recorded that two hundred and fifty of the natives were baptized by the St., who, at the same time enfranchised them of all bodily servitude and bondage, (as expressed by an old writer,) whom he made free both in bodie and soul,' they having been given to him as slaves attached to the soil, in the same manner as other cattle. Nearly two hundred years had now elapsed since the first Christian church was raised, and the inhabitants had lived in content and tranquillity, under the peaceful rule of Wilfred's successors in the episcopal office, employing themselves in agriculture and fishing. Their houses were, it is true, only clay huts, thatched with rushes; but there was an air of order and cheerfulness about the inhabitants that showed they had felt the benefit of the glad message preached to them.' of peace on earth, good will towards men.'

"Several small churches diversified the landscape with their low wooden spires, and though of no more imposing materials than a modern barn, yet the interior of these rural sanctuaries exhibited a neatness and cleanliness that would put to shame the mouldy and damp mildewed walls of many of those edifices which have been reared in their places.

Near one of these stood a cottage of scarcely more pretensions as to size than those which surrounded it

We like to see the characteristic features of any province or locality of Old England framed as a picture by such neat and elegant hands, as the above sketch evinces. It is hardly necessary to state that whoever can at starting do so well, will when he warms and approaches the active scenes of the story rise with his subject, and throw off with ease, freedom, and skill, whatever his fancy has outlined and whatever his delicate taste wishes to grace. We have derived much pleasure, and, we think, some instruction from these modest volumes,-modesty and talent being usually combined, as these qualities undoubtedly are, in the present instance.

ART. XIV.- The Comic Almanack, for 1839. By RIGDUM FUNNIDOS, GENT. London: Tilt.

GEORGE CRUIKSHANK by his "righte merrie" Cuts pertaining to the months of 1839, proves himself to be inexhaustible. Who "Rigdum Funnidos" may be we do not know; but we must also bestow upon that humourous personage unlimited praise for what he has contributed to this "Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, containing all things, fitting for such a