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culties were ill rewarded."-" To this spirit of avarice may be added his insolent manner of treating his immediate dependants, very unbecoming a great prince, and a sure prognostic of what might be expected from him if ever he acquired sovereign power."

But there is one part of his character, which I must particularly insist on, since it occasioned the defection of the most powerful of his friends and adherents in England, and by some concurring accidents totally blasted all his hopes and pretensions. When he was in Scotland, he had a mistress, whose name is Walkenshaw, and whose sister was at that time, and is still, housekeeper at Leicester House. Some years after he was released from his prison, and conducted out of France, he sent for this girl, who soon acquired such a dominion over him, that she was acquainted with all his schemes, and trusted with his most secret correspondence. As soon as this was known in England, all those persons of distinction, who were attached to him, were greatly alarmed; they imagined that this wench had been placed in his family by the English ministers; and, considering her sister's situation, they seemed to have some ground for their suspicion; wherefore they dispatched a gentle man to Paris, where the Prince then was,

who had instructions to insist that Mrs Walkenshaw should be removed to a convent for a certain term; but her gallant absolutely refused to comply with this demand; and although Mr M'Namara, the gentleman who was sent to him, who has a natural eloquence, and an excellent understanding, urged the most cogent reasons, and used all the arts of persuasion to induce him to part with his mistress, and even proceeded so far as to assure him, according to his instructions, that an immediate interruption of all correspondence with his most powerful friends in England, and in short, that the ruin of his interest, which was now daily increasing, would be the infallible consequence of his refusal; yet he continued inflexible, and all M'Namara's intreaties and remonstrances were ineffectual. M'Namara staid in Paris some days beyond the time prescribed him, endea vourring to reason the Prince into a better temper but finding him obstinately per severe in his first answer, he took his leave with concern and indignation, saying, as he passed out, what has your family done, Sir, thus to draw down the vengeance of Heaven 'un every branch of it through so many ages? It is worthy of remark, that, in all the conferences which 'Namara had

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with the Prince on this occasion, the lat ter declared, that it was not a violent passion or indeed, any particular regård,

believe he spoke truth when he declared he had no esteem for his northern

VOL. IV.

which attached him to Mrs Walkenshaw, and that he could see her removed from

him without any concern; but he would not receive directions in respect to his pri vate conduct from any man alive. When M Namara returned to London, and reported the Prince's answer to the gentle men who had employed him, they were astonished and confounded. However, they soon resolved on the measures which they were to pursue for the future, and determined no longer to serve a man who could not be persuaded to serve himself, and chose rather to endanger the lives of his best and most faithful friends, than part with an harlot. whom, as he often declared, he neither loved nor esteemed. if ever that old adage, Quos Jupiter mult perdere, &c. could be properly applied to any person, whom could it so well fit as the gentleman of whom I have been speaking? for it is difficult by any other means to account for such a sudden infatuation. He was, indeed, soon afterwards made sensible of his misconduct, when it was too late to repair it: for from this era may truly be dated the ruin of his cause."

There are some other anecdotes and reflections concerning royalty, which show, that this adherent to the party who supported the divine right of kings, did not think their personal characters so sacred as their office. Charles II. with only two attendants, one morning met the Duke of York escorted by a party of the guards, and upon the Duke's expressing some sur prise at the danger to which his Ma jesty thus exposed himself, "No kind of danger, James," said his brother, "for I am sure no man in Eng. land will take away my life, to make you king." There is a dream too about Divus Augustus Gondibertus Se cundus, and an epitaph, in which the Nil de mortuis is sadly violated. But we must not breathe any longer in this elevated atmosphere.

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We need not wonder, after this, that poets and lords are treated with little ceremony. Pope hastened his death by high seasoned dishes and dram drinking; Swift, it is insinuated,

mistress, although she has been his com panion for so many years. She had no elegance of manners and as they had both contracted an odious habit of drinking, so they exposed themselves very frequently, not only to their own family but to all their neighbours. They often quarrelled and sometimes fought they were some of these drunken scenics which, probably, occa, sioned the report of his madness."

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brought on that distemper which at last totally deprived him of understanding, by his custom of drinking a pint of claret after dinner. There are several amusing stories of the poverty of the rich, and the ignorance of the learned. Marlborough, when he was in the last stage of life, and very infirm, would walk from the public rooms in Bath, to his lodgings, in a cold dark night, to save sixpence in chair hire, and left a million and a half to his enemy's grandson. Sir James Lowther, who had about L. 40,000 per annum, and was at a loss whom to appoint his heir, after changing a piece of silver at a coffee-house, and paying twopence for his dish of coffee, was helped into his chariot, (for he was then very lame and infirm,) and went home; but some time after returned with a bad halfpenny he had got, and demanded another. A third worthy, who left L. 200,000, lost his life to save a bottle of wine; and a fourth, the author's own grandfather, cheated an oculist out of two-thirds of his fee, by falsely pretending that the operation had not completely succeeded. Then as to learning, "for a century and a half we have had only two High Chancellors who could be called learned men; and in our days the man who enjoyed this great office for twenty years, did not learn Latin, as I am well assured, until after he was made Lord Chancellor." Sir Robert Walpole, Sir William Wyndham, and Mr Pitt, had none of them much learning to boast of, unless it was some little acquaintance with the classics; and many of the principal speakers in both houses would have been greatly puzzled with one of Tully's Orations. But natural talent makes amends for all defects.

"It is indeed the peculiar happiness of this country, that all who have any share in the administration of public affairs are equally fit for all employment. His Grace of N. was first Chamberlain, then Secretary of State, and is now First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of Cambridge; and all these high employments he hath executed with equal capacity and judgment, without being indebted to age or experience for the least improvement; and if he had been pleased to accept the Archbishopric of Canterbury, when it was lately vacant, he would have proved himself as great an orator in the pulpit as he is in the semate, and as able a divine as he is a poli

tician. As often as I hear this noblémát named, he puts me in mind of a certain Irish baronet, a man of some interest in his country, who, when the Duke of Ormonde was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in the beginning of Queen Anne's reign, desired his Grace to give him a bishopric, or a regiment of horse, or to make him Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench."

But to come down a little lower,the custom of giving money to servants is very justly complained of, and happily ridiculed. We do not know if the passage be of any use now, fashions change so much in half a century.

"I remember a Lord Poor, a Roman Catholic Peer of Ireland, who lived upon a small pension which Q. Anne had granted him he was a man of honour, and well esteemed; and had formerly been an officer of some distinction in the service of France. The Duke of Ormonde had often invited him to dinner, and he as often excusAt last the Duke kindly ex

ed himself.

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postulated with him, and would know the reason why he so constantly refused to be one of his guests. My Lord Poor then honestly confessed, that he could not afford it: but,' says he, if your Grace will put a guinea into my hands as often as you are pleased to invite me to dine, I will not decline the honour of waiting on you.' This was done; and my Lord was afterwards a frequent guest in St James's Square."-" Upon the whole, if this custom, which is certainly a disgrace to our country, is to continue in force, I think it may at least be practised in a better mangold letters over the door of every man of Suppose there were written in large rank: The fees for dining here are three half crowns [or ten shillings] to be paid to the porter on entering the house: peers or peeresses to pay what more they think proper.' By this regulation two inconveniences would be avoided: first, the difficulty of distinguishing, amongst a great number, the quality of the servants. I, who am near-sighted, have sometimes given the footman what I designed for the butler, and the butler has had only the footman's fee for which the butler treated me with no small contempt, until an opportunity offered of correcting my error. But, secondly, this method would prevent the shame which every master of a family cannot help feeling whilst he sees his guests giving about their shillings and half-crowns to his servants. He may then conduct them boldly to his door, and take his leave with a good grace. My Lord Taaffe of Ireland, a general officer in the Austrian service, came into England a few years ago on account of his private affairs. When

his friends, who had dined with him, were going away, he always attended them to the door; and if they offered any money to the servant who opened it, (for he never suffered but one servant to appear,) he always prevented them, saying, in his manner of speaking English, If you do give, give it to me, for it was I that did buy the dinner.""

But we must pass over several anecdotes which we should be glad to transcribe, that we may find room for one that strikes us as more singular than any thing we have read out of tales of fiction. In the very native soil of humour and eccentricity, the story, as it is told by Dr King, with out motive or purpose being ascribed to the principal character, is probably without a parallel.

"About the year 1706, I knew one Mr Howe, a sensible well-natured man, possessed of an estate of L. 700 or L. 800 per annum: he married a young lady of a good family in the west of England; her maiden name was Mallet; she was agreeable in her person and manners, and proved a very good wife. Seven or eight years after they had been married, he rose one morning very early, and told his wife he was obliged to go to the Tower to transact some particular business: the same day, at noon, his wife received a note from him, in which he informed her that he was un

der a necessity of going to Holland, and should probably be absent three weeks or a month. He was absent from her seven

teen years, during which time she neither heard from him or of him. The evening before he returned, whilst she was at supper, and with some of her friends and relations, particularly one Dr Rose, a physician, who had married her sister, a billet, without any name subscribed, was deliver ed to her, in which the writer requested the favour of her to give him a meeting the next evening in the Bird-cage Walk, in St

James's Park. When she had read her

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billet, she tossed it to Dr Rose, and laughing, You see, brother,' said she, as old as I am, I have got a gallant.' Rose, who perused the note with more attention, declared it to be Mr Howe's hand-writing this surprised all the company, and so much affected Mrs Howe, that she fainted away; however, she soon recovered, when it was agreed that Dr Rose and his wife, with the other gentlemen and ladies who were then at supper, should attend Mrs Howe the next evening to the Bird cage Walk: they

"I was very well acquainted with Dr Rose; he was of a French family. I often met him at King's Coffee-house, near Golden-square, and he frequently entertained me with this remarkable story."

had not been there more than five or six minutes, when Mr Howe came to them, and after saluting his friends, and embracing his wife, walked home with her, and they lived together in great harmony from that time to the day of his death. But the most curious part of my tale remains to be related. When Howe left his wife, they lived in a house in Jermyn-street, near St James's church; he went no farther than to a little street in Westminster, where he shillings a week, and changing his name, took a room, for which he paid five or six and disguising himself by wearing a black wig, (for he was a fair man,) he remained in this habitation during the whole time of his absence. He had had two children by his wife when he departed from her, who were both living at that time: but they both died young in a few years aiter. However, during their lives, the second or Mrs Howe was obliged to apply for an act third year after their father disappeared, of parliament to procure a proper settle ment of her husband's estate, and a provi sion for herself out of it during his absence, as it was uncertain whether he was alive or dead: this act he suffered to be solicited and passed, and enjoyed the plea sure of reading the progress of it in the votes, in a little coffee-house near his lodging, which he frequented. Mrs Howe, after the death of her children, thought proper to lessen her family of servants, and the expences of her housekeepin Jermyn-street to a little house in Brewering; and therefore removed from her house street, near Golden-square. Just over a corn-chanagainst her lived one Salt, About ten years after Howe's abdication, he contrived to make an acquaintance with Salt, and was at length in such a degree of intimacy with him, that he usually dined with Salt once or twice a week. From the room in which they eat, it was not difficult to look into Mrs Howe's dining-room, where she generally sate and received her company; and Salt, who be lieved Howe to be a bachelor, f.equently recommended his own wife to him as a suitable match. During the last seven years of this gentleman's absence, he went every Sunday to St James's church, and used to sit in Mir Salt's seat, where he had a view of his wife, but could not easily be seen by her. After he returned home, he never would confess, even to his most intimate friends, what was the real cause of

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such a singular conduct: apparently there was none; but whatever it was, he was certainly ashamed to own it."

"I knew Salt, whom I often met at a coffee-house called King's Colee-house, near Golden-square. He related to me the particulars which I have here mentioned, and many others, which have escaped my memory."

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those that, on a superficial survey, appear the most obvious. But

Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,

we must not venture at present upon any such intricate investigations. We have placed these novels before us for the purpose merely of giving our country readers a slight and cursory notice of each, since our limits do not permit us to enter upon any separate

4. Coquetry. 3 vols. Edinburgh, Con- analysis or regular critique of them. stable and Co. 1818.

THAT an important change has taken place within these few years in the general taste and literature of Scotland, is a fact so evident, that it would be wasting time to demonstrate it. No clearer evidence need, in truth, be required than the periodical announcements of our booksellers, nor any illustration more pointed than the titles of the works which we have prefixed to this article, and which, moreover, form but one half of the novels that have issued from the Edinburgh press during the last twelvemonths. It might, indeed, be a very curious and instructive task to trace the causes of this sudden and surprising change ;-to inquire how it has happened that the grave and metaphysical propensities of our countrymen have been in great measure superseded by this rage for works of fancy, so that the usual progress of the human mind would appear to have been in our case reversed, and, after being so long distinguished for our successful and somewhat exclusive cultivation of philosophical studies, we have all at once returned to the more light and youthful pursuits of, poetry and romance. The brilliant success of one distinguished Author has, we know, been sometimes adduced as the primum mobile, or talismanic mover of this mighty revulsion. But, with all our admiration of the power and originality of that writer, we are inclined to think he has rather followed than impelled the public propensity in this direction; though, in saying this, we by no means intend to deny that his genius has had a most palpable and prominent influence upon the literature of his age, and the taste of his contemporaries. We apprehend, in short, that this change must be traced to more remote and general causes than

They are worthy, however, of more ford; for though none of them can particular attention than we can af◄ lay claim to the higher honours of this species of composition, yet they have all, in different modes and degrees, very considerable merit; and readers, in a few words, some notion of we shall now endeavour to give our their respective characteristics.

"SAINT PATRICK" is a tale of ro history of Ireland, at the time of its mance, engrafted upon the legendary conversion to Christianity; and the plot hinges upon the struggle betwixt the new religion and the expiring fa naticism of the Druids. Yet the celebrated Irish Apostle is rather the nominal than the real hero of the story. The heir-apparent to the throne of Ireland, and the beautiful daughter of the Arch-Druid, are the interest depends. Ethne, the fair personages upon whose fate the chief Druidess, is, indeed, the gem of the work, and there is undoubtedly something very attractive and poetical in her appearance and adventures. In other respects we do not think the narrative extremely well managed, nor the interest equally sustained. There is a great deal too much of marching and counter-marching, and plotting and skirmishing, with little result. The author himself appears too much in jest about it. He gives us also too much of low humour, and of modern Scotch and Irish brogue, (strangely out of place, certainly, in the Fifth Century!)-too much of unbecoming buffoonery about churchbuilding, and a great deal too oppressive a display of learning. spite, however, of these and other indications of immature taste and want of tact in the author, we have no he sitation in ranking St Patrick much above the level of ordinary novels. There is a liveliness of fancy, and, occasionally, a poetic exuberance in the

In

description of wild and savage scenery, that display both strength and fertility of imagination, and which, if the author be a young man, (as we should suspect from internal evidence,) may lead to something much higher than he has here given us. The description of the Druidical fortress at Clogharnbrec, the situation of St Patrick on the jut ting cliff at the Giant's Causeway, and other passages of a like description, are strikingly and powerfully executed. Should the author again employ his talents in this way, we would earnestly request from him somewhat more of the air and spirit of serious romance, in which, we think, he is qualified to excel, with fewer outrages against the costume and character of ancient times,-less of the tone of levity and burlesque, and less of politics and polemics, civil or ecclesiastical. His present work proves that he is a man of lively fancy and multifarious re search. We hope his next will convince us that he also possesses an improved taste and vigorous judg

ment.

"CAMPBELL; or, the SCOTTISH PROBATIONER," is a work differing in almost every characteristic particular from the preceding. It has neither the same striking beauties nor defects; and, with the exception of a few scattered passages, is remarkably free from all offences against good taste and right feeling. The style is plain and unambitious, and, though not unrelieved with humour, its tone is, throughout, strikingly earnest and serious. Indeed, the general effect is rather too impressive, if that can be urged as a fault. It is so like the tone of reality, that, while reading, we ean scarcely shake off the conviction that it is not a fictitious, but a real and living personage who is addressing us. The author displays also a just and extensive knowledge of human nature, and has brought out, in this tale, a very considerable variety of character. He has not, perhaps, always managed his dramatis persona with perfect address, nor grouped them so as to produce the most brilliant display, but this does not appear to have been much his object; and after all, we are not sure that the general effect of the narrative is not rather increased than diminished by this simplicity and apparent want of dexterity. The Scottish dialect, which

is occasionally introduced, is genuine and natural, but sometimes rather homely, and too much interlarded with provincial barbarisms. The sentiments are always liberal and candid, and the moral highly instructive and affecting. The work is diversified with several pieces of poetry, which, though written rather in a diffuse style, indicate much gentle and genuine feeling, and considerable powers of fancy.

MARRIAGE" has been longer in the hands of the public than any of the works now before us, and the pub lic have, we believe, in great measure anticipated our opinion. It is evi dently the production of a female hand, and of a person also of very considerable talent and observation. The author's forte lies in the depicting of character,-chiefly of female cha racter; and in this line she certainly displays great knowledge of the hu man heart, and a very extensive acquaintance with life and manners. So strong, indeed, is her propensity towards portraiture and caricature, that she has fairly overloaded her book with it, and made a much less interesting story than she might have done with half her ability. Like the two preceding authors, she also gives us too much of broad Scotch. This is an evil which has sprung from the successful use which rs Hamilton and the author of Waverley have made of our Doric dialect; and all Scottish novel writers, now-a-days, seem to think that a large proportion of Scottish jargon is an indispensable requisite. We conceive they are quite wrong, however; and, much as we love our native tongue in the mouths of our simple and sagacious peasantry, and not less in the classical and characteristic pages of Burns and Walter Scott, we could most heartily wish to see it dispensed with almost every where else. In truth, it now requires a degree of taste and genius to manage it properly, which, after these admirable writers, we never hope to see again,—and its exquisite effect, in their hands, renders the mangling of it by less skilful and gifted authors altogether intolerable." Marriage, however, with all its defects, is well deserving of a perusal.

"COQUETRY" is, in general, better written, and, in point of plot, much better managed, than any of the pre

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