The Sun.
London, England, 1847-05-03 00:00:00

LONDON, MONDAY MORNLNG, MAT 8, 1.8479

—.-
crevices of the basement paving . A scaly crumbling
vegetation sprouted round the windowsills. Fragments
of mortar lost their hold upon the insides of the unused
chimneys, and came dropping down. The two trees
with the smoky trunks were bliAted high up, and the
withered brae ches domineered above the leaves.
Through the whole building, white had turned yellow,
yellow nearly black ; and since the time when the poor
lady died, it had slowly become a dark gap in the long

monotonous street.
" But Florence bloc:fled there, like the king's fair
daughter in the story. Her books, her music, and her
daily teachers, were her only rota companions, Susan
Nipper af:d Diogenese excepted : of whom the former,
in her attendance on the studies of her young mistress.
began to grow quite learned herself, while the latter,
softened possibly by the same influences, would lay his
head upon the window-ledge, and
placidly open and
shut his eyes upon the street, all through a summer
morning ; sometimes pricking up his hand to look with
great significance after some noisy dog in a cart, whin
was harking his way a;ong, and sometimes, with an ex-
asperated and unaccountable recoil, coon of his ,uppo4ed
enemy in the neighly 'turnood, rushine• to the door,
whence ,Ster a deafening dtsturbanee,he would come
joving b .ck w4li it ritlienlous complacency that be-
longed to Jim, and hty his jaw upon the window-ledge
the air of a dog who had done a public

service.
So Florence lived in her wilderness of a home.
within the circle r innocent pursuits and thoughts,
awl nothing harmed her. See could go down to her
father's rot ,ms now, and think of him. and suffer her
loving besrt humbly to approrich Itlen without fear of re-
pulse. She could look upon 'he objects that had sur-
rounded him in his sorrow, and could nestle near his
chair, and nut dreed the glance that she so well remem-
bered. She could render him such little tokens of her
duty and service, as putting everything in order for him
with her own hands, binding little nosegay
for his table,
changieg three as one by one they withered and he did
not come back, preparing something for him ever='!
day, and leaving some timid mark of he
was
pre-ence near his usual seat. Today, it
a little painted stand for his watch ;
to-morrow,
she would be afraid to leave it, and would substitute
some other trifle of her making not so likely to attract
his eye. Waking in the night, perhaps, she would,
tremble at the thought of his coming home and angrily;
rejecting it, and would hurry down with slippered feet
and quickly beating heart, and bring it away. At
another time, she would only lay her face upon his desk,
and leave a kiss there, and a tear.
" Still no one knew of this. Unless the household
found it out when she was not there—and they all held.
Mr. Dombey's rooms in awe—it was as deep a secret in
her breast as what had gone before it. Florence stole
into those rooms at twilight, early in the morning, and
at times when mewls were served down stairs. And ale
'7 though they cr.. iu every nook the better and thel
brighter for her care, she entered and passed out se'
quietly as any sunbeam, excepting that she left her light
behind.
" Shadowy company attended Florence up and down
the echoing house, and-sat with her in the dismantled
rooms. As if her life were an enchanted vision, there
arose out of her solitude ministering thoughts, that made•
it fanciful and unreal. She imagined so often what her
life would have been if her father could have loved her,
and she had been a favourite child, that sometimes, for
the moment, she almost believed it was so, and, borni'
on by the current of that pensive fiction, seemed to re!,
mem her hew they bad watched her brother in his graip
together; how they had freely shared his heart between
them; how they were united in the dear remembrance
of him; how they often spoke about him yet; and her
kind father, looking at her gently, told her of their com-
mon hope and trust in God. At other times she pic-
tured to herself her mother yet alive. And, oh! the
happiness of falling on her neck, and clinging to her with
the love and confidence of all her soul! And, oh, the
desolation of the solitary house again, with evening corn.
in, on, and no one there!
" But there was one thought. scarcely shaped out to
herself, yet fervent and strong within her, that upheld
Florence when she strove and filled her true young
heart, so sorely tried, with constancy of purpose. Into
her mind, as into all others contending with the great afflic-
tion of our mortal nature, there had stolen solemn wan-
derings and hopes, arising in the dim world beyond the
present life, and murmuring, like faint music, of recog-
nition in the far off land between her brother and her
mother: of some present consciousness in both of her:
some love and commiseration for her: and some know-
ledge of her as she went her way upon the earth. It was
a soothing consolation to Florence to give shelter to these
thoughts, until one day—it was soon after she had last
seen her father in his own room, late at night—the fancy
came upon her, that, in weeping for his alienated heart,
she might stir the spirits of the dead against him. Wild,
weak, childish, as it may have been to think so, and
.to
tremble at the half-formed thought, it was the impulse of
her loving nature; and from that hour Florence strove
against the cruel wound in her breast, and tried to think
of him whose hand had made it, only with hope.
" Her father did not know—she held to it from that
time—how much she loved him. She was very young,
and had no mother, and hid never learned,by some fault
or miserrtune, how to express to him that she loved him.
She would be patient, and would try to gain that art
in time, and win him to a better knowledge of his only
child.
" This became the purpose of her life. The morn-
ing sun shone down upon the faded house, and found the
reselutien bright and fresh within the bosom of its soli-
tary
i
tary mistress. Through all the duties of the day, t
animated her ; for Florence hoped that tke more shs
knew, and the more accomplished she became, the more
glad he would be when he came to know and like her.
Sometimes she wondered, with a swelling heart, and
rising tear, whether she was proficient enough in any-
thing to surprise him when they should become com-
panions Sometime* she tried to think if there were any
kind of kn iwledge that would bespeak his interest more
readily than another. Always :at her books, her music,
and her work: in her morning walks, and in her nightly
prayers : she had hr engrossing aim in view. Strange
study ;or a child, to learn the road to s hard parent's
heart I
There were many careless loungers through the
street, as the summer evening deepened into night, who
glanced across the road at the sombre house, and saw
the youthful figure at the window, such a contrast to it,
looking upward at the stars as they began to shine, who
would have slept the Worse if they had known on what
design she mused so steadfastly. The reputation of the
mansion as a haunted house, would not have been the
sgayertruc k withby
itsso nae
external gloom humble
doeollleirbs elsewhere, who were
passing and rejetssing
on their, daily avocations, and so named it, if they
could have read its story in the darkening face. But
Florence held her sacred purpose, unsuspected and un-
aided: and studied only how to tiring her father to the
understanding that she loved him, and made no appeal
against him in any wandering thought-
Thus Florence lived alone in the deserted house, and
day succeeded day, and still she lived nine, and the
monotonous walls looked down upon her with a stare, as
if they had a Gorgon-like intent to stare her youth and
beauty into stone."
The repetition of the last sentence is a clever con-
trivance, and it is the more effective as the sentence
has a sort of rhythm about it that is bewitching.
The description of the lonely dwelling is a companion
picture to the " Haunted House," by Thomas Hood
—both delineations singular for their exactitude and
naturalness.

THL PLOUGH.
This useful periodical contains, as usual, a consider-
able quantity of useful information to the class to
which it is especially directed. There is a good en-
graving of a Scotch Galloway and another
of " the Kent two rest plough The natural history
of the potato is given with details respecting the ap-
pearances observed in the progress of the mysterious
disease that has occasioned such fearful destitution
and misery in the sister kingdom. "Cabbage cul-
ture" gives some valuable hints for the cultivation of
this useful vegetable. In "domestic fires" the appli-
cability of chalk to the purpose of combustion is Ad-
vocated, and its economy explained, there are ;the
usual accounts of agricultural meetings in various
parts of the country. •

LITERATURE.
r MEMOIRS OF THE REION OF GEORGE 11.
By Horace Walpole. Edited by the late Lord Holland.
3 Vcls.
As well from his position in society as from his natural
temperament, Horace Walpole possessed many peculiar
facilities for obtaining a clear insight into the political
transactions of his contemporaries. The sou of a
twenty years' Prime Minister, the companion, if not the
friend, of many of the chief politicians of his time, he
was naturally familiar with all the mysteries of political
intrigue; to him the secrets of the prison-house were
revealed. He mingled in public lite more as a spectator
than as an actor, but it was as a spectator behind the
scenes; near enough to understand all the secret work-
ings of the machinery, without himself bearing a part in
the play. While the public, further removed, looked on
with wonder and admiration, believing all they heard,
deeming all that glittered gold, he, from his more proxi-
mate position. disenchani,ed and undeceived, ri,cognised
the illusion and understood the cheat; and yet, also, from
that very cause, he was the better enabled to admire
some piece of clever acting (knowing it to be such). or
to appreciate the cunning of some marvellous deceit.
And or only was he in this trisneer enabled to eureue
such investigations, but he took a pleasure it, so doing,
though Cis judgment , acid his heart alike condo
much of what he was a daily witness of. yet, as be tells
us himself, he had " a love of faction;" he felt an in-
terest in the, progress o!' the game, though conscious of
the worthlessness of the combatants end the athletes
who were struggling for the stake. The results of his
continued and scrutinising observations—the various ad
ventures and anecdotes with which he became acquainted '
—the secret causes of many a public trensaction, end his
own shrewd guesses and suggestions thereupon, formed
the topics of his numerous epistles to his familiar cor-
respondents, and also censtituted the theme of many
volumes of manuscript, which we may elmest regard asa
continuation of his letters addressed to posterity. Of these
are the •• Memoir's" row before us, which, with many
others of a similar kind, were, after his death, in accord-
ance with his strict injunctions, kept sacredly sealed up
in a wainscoat chest until a given period had arrived.
At the appointed time this chest being examined, was
found to contain many manuscripts, and among others
memoirs of the reigns of George 11. and George III.;
the latter of which was published about two years back.
and the former is now before us. Thus after fifty years
have passed over his grave, and nearly a hundred have
elapsed since the events of which lie relates, we are
startled by the appearance of a new work by Horace
Walpole. And very welcome is it—it comes to us like
the communication of some familiar friend, as in ouch a
, light we are accustomed to consider its author ; for in
our sentiments with regard to authors whom we know
only from their works, it is the same as in our relations
to the individuals whom we meet with in every-day life.
There are some, there are perhaps many, with whom,
though well acquainted, we can never become intimate ;
while, with others, on the contrary, owing to some
peculiar affability of temperament we can be friends
from the first introduction. To this latter class belongs
Horace Walpole, a friendly, nay a familiar, relation
seems to subsist between him and his readers ; an almost
colloquial freedom characterises his writings, partly
attributable, perhaps. to his great epistolary practice. So
easy and agreeable is his style, so happy are his descrip-
tions, so interesting and entertaining the various anec-
dotes and reminiscences scattered through his pages,
but, above all, so natural and communicative is his
manner, that while perusing his works we seem as it
were to be listening to the passing conversation of some
intimate companion. These Memoirs of George IL are,
however (comparatively speaking), somewhat deficient
in this agreeable characteristic, and on this account they
are hardly so entertaining as were the delightful
volumes relating to George 111., which strangely enough
preceded them. Though disavowing all claim to the
title of historian, yet, in inditing memoirs illustrative of
history, Walpi de evidently felt it advisable to assume a
certain degree of decorum and dignity: he could not
introduce so insignificant a person as himself into such a
work, or at least, if occasionally necessary, it must he in
the third person. This little circumstance, in a certain
degree, destroys his ordinary familiarity of style; and on
this account, and also because diversified with fewer
anecdotes, the volumes relating to George 11. are, to
our thinking, less entertaining than those concerning his
successor ; for in the latter, as if' the unwonted formality
were irksome to him, he again assumed his natural
egotism, shall we call it?—he again indulges us with the
ego et rev mews style.
Before attempting to analyse the contents of these
volumes, we cannot do better than give the author's own
account of his intention, together with the comments of
his distinguished editor. " I am no historian," says
Horace Walpole, speaking of this work—" I write
casual memoirs ; I draw characters ; I preserve anec-
dotes, which my superiors, the historians of Britain, may
enchase into their weighty annals, or pass over at their
pleasure ;" and in another place he speaks of " having
never proposed to write a regular history, but to throw
together some anecdotes and characters which might
cast a light on the times in which I have lived, and
might lead some future and more assiduous historian to
an intimate knowledge of the men whose counsels or
actions he shall record." " Here are no assassins, no
poisoners, no Neros, Borgias, Catilines, Richards of
York ! Here are the foibles of an age, no very bad one;
treacherous Ministers, mock Patriots, complaisant Par-
liaments, Callable Princes. So far from being desirous
of writing op to the severe dignity of Roman historians,
I am glad I have an opportunity of saying no worse ;
yet, it I had, I should have used it." Lord Ilolland's
preface is likely to be of advantage to the reader of the
memoirs; it may serve as a correction to some of the
errors of the author. After awarding him due praise,
the nnble editor judiciously draws attention to seme of
his faults, especially to the variable nature of his judg-
ments ; in his delineation of character, it appears, that
he was influenced more "by the conduct ut the per-
sons he describes in the last occurrence that brought
them before his eyes, than by a steely and
comprehensive view of their merits and defects." Hence,
excepting the very few individuals to whom he was con-
stant iu his attachments or dislikes, there is scarcely any
strong expression of commendation or censure which in
some subsequent passage he does not quality, sot ten, or
correct. It is a proof, however, of his fairness, at least
of his desire to give his readers the impression he formed
at the time of the persouagee and transactions he de-
scribes, that even when he changed his opinions, he
allowed his original account to remain, leaving it to be
effaced in the minds of others, as it was not unfree
quently in his own, by subsequent reflections and events.
The contents of these memoirs may be divided
into three classes, namely, a sort of epitome
of the principal political events of the years
to which they relate ; a series of portraits of the
politicians who were then chiefly conspicuous ; and,
thirdly, a very excellent summary of the debate in both
Houses of Parliament, including outlines of some of the
principal harangues. Walpole's industry was here most
usefully employed, for be it remembered, that in those
days there were no newspaper reporters with their rapid
succession of "five minute turns, to jot down word for
word as it fell from the speakers, neither was the infal-
lible referee, Hansard, then in existence.
" The account of Parliamentary debates in these Me-
moirs," observes Lord Holland in the preface, " would alone
be a valuable addition to our history. No one is ignorant
that from the fall of Sir Robert Walpole to the American
war, our reports of the proceedings in Parliament are more
barren and unsatisfactory than at any period since the reign
of James the First. For the last ten years of George the
Second, Mr. Walpole has supplied that deficiency in a manner
equally entertaining and instructive. His method was, to
make notes of each speaker's argument during the debate,
and frequently to take down his expressions. He afterwards '
wrote out the speeches at greater length, and described the
impression they made on the House. •
Some of these debates are very interesting, and the
speeches are given very effectively; but there are, per-
haps, almost too many details of ordinary affairs; too
many pages that read like the summaries of our daily
papers, nevertheless they are interesting to a certain
extent; and great praise is certainly due to Walpole for
preserving them. Some of Mr. Pitt's (the elder Pitt's)
orations are detailed with great force and apparent
fidelity, and their effect is described with a degree of
enthusiasm. The second volume contains some very
excellent remarks upon the orators and oratory of the
day. The various peculiarities of the various speakers
are admirably demonstrated by contrast them one with
the other, as for example:—
di Mr. Conway soothed and persuaded ; Lord George Sack-
------ - -
FALMOUTII, APISIL- 28.—The weather here forithe rimgewinfoitmedou seanvedrecotnovinzila!dC arias Townshend astonished •
e,h and too bold to convince.'
last two days has been extremely boisterous, at times chilly, Conwaasy seemed to speakl only because he thought his opinion
cold, and otherwise unseasonable. Yesterday it blew a corn- might be of service; Lord George because he knew that
plete gale at west, with occasional showers ; and to-de): it others misled, or were misled ; Charles Townshend, neither
has veered to south-west, still blowing a smart withgate,
has caring whether himself or others were in the right, only
little or no rain ; sunshine more frequent. This morningspoke to show how well he could adorn a bad cause, or demo-
put in, from:stress of weather, the French frigate Bavonnaise, lish a good one. It was frequent with him, as soon as he
of 28 guns, Captain De lie Griviere, from Cherbourg; and had done speaking, to run to the opposite side of the house;
and laugh with those he had attacked, at those who had de-
outside the port has anchored her Majesty's frigate Thetis,
Captain Codrington, from Portsmouth. Both these vessels fended. One loved the first, one feared the second, one ad-
are bound to Lisbon, and have find it impracticable tab get I mired the last without the least mixture of esteem. Mr.
out of the Channel. They worked down from the Dotiman Conway had a cold reserve, which seemed only to veil good-
this morning together; but a marked difference was owbietirceh-, t ness: Lord George, with a frankness in his speech, had a
able in their qualities, favouralale to the latter ship,
is of larger tonnage. Some 1
grain vessels are again arriving from the southward, and 1
it, must be admitted, however,. mystery in his conduct, which was far from inviting.
Charles Townshend had such openness in all his behaviour,
many are expected.
'Dee number of sailing vessels built 'and registered
1 that he seamed to think duplicity the simplest conduct: he
made the innocence of others look like art. But what supe-
and the number of st .
in 1846 ;n the ports of the United Kiegdoro, sus 132 1 riority does integrity contract, when even uniformity of
9 acting could exalt so many men abovarthe most conspicuous
measuring 109,394 tuns;
measuring 15,956 Ms. eatnera 77, talents that appeared in so rhetorical an age! Mr. Towns-
Ftsx.—Hatchin held was perhaps the only man who had ever genius enough
HATCHING g eggs artificial heat to preserve reason and argument in a torrent of epigrams,
is well known and extensively practised in China; is is satire, and antithesis 1"
many, and
al=o the hatching of. fish. The sale of spawn fort
gelatinous this Of the delineations of character and individual por-
pose f, ,rms enipo important branch Of trade in, China, traits, of which these memoirs contain very
pur
matters that contain
The fishermen collectth with care, on the margin andlue- to all appearance excellently well drawn) by far the
face of water. allmost effective and the most interesting are the sketches
whiche
spawn of fish,
__ is then placed in an egg.ehell, I of Lord Bolinbroke and of Sir Robert Walpole (the
which has been fresh emptied, through a small b oleo. father of the author). The character of Sir Robert is
which is then stopped, and the shell is placed undera contrasted with that of Mr. Pelham, his successor in
sitting fowl. In- a few days the Chinese break the shell office ; and, notwithstanding that the one was the
in warm water (warmed by the sun). The young fish father of the author, the other that father's
are then kept in water until they are large goon rival and supplanter, there is apparently a de-
mi. Thisplan, in some measure,
to be
de-
placed in ago . . some rnea,ure, counter- gree of impel tislity in his delineations of their
acts the great destruction of respective characters. Horace makes no secret of
spawn by troll-nets, which
have caused the extinction of many fish • ity • , Sir Robert's
•infamous habit of buying support ;
fisheries.—?.Kin's Om s
China. i for example.
" In the knowledge of the revenue, he (Mr.
GIBRALTAR, APRIL 18.---0, A A
the' 15th instant the Pelham) and all other men must yield to Sir R. ;Walpole,
crews of two of the Queen of Portugal's cruisers at anchor in though he and all other men make the same use of that
our bay (the cutter Conde de Thotnar and mistico eeree do I knowledge, which is to find new friends for the nem-
Filar), that had taken refuge here on the appearance of the sides of the Government,
and for the occasions of the
Junta of Oporto 's steamers oft the cease of Algarve, attempted Administration; by those occasions, I mean corruption, in
to declare themselves in favour of the Oporto-Junta, but the which I believe Mr. Pelham would never have wet his
commanders, saving discovered their intention, applied to , finger, if Sir Robert TValpale had not dipped up to his
our Governor for protection, in consequence of which the ' elbow ; but as he did dip, and as Mr. Pelham was per-
commander of her
_Majesty's steamer Virago received orders i suaded that it was as necessary for him to be minister as ,
to send his boats to.t.heir assistance, and they towed her : it was for Sir Robert Walpole, he plunged as deep." The
Most Faithful Majeste's cruisers to the anchorage. e the ;
a ,eitraftute 031101.4.0 be ,
New Mole, along` de of her Majeiey's steamer Virago, which ; P-
has them in surveillance under our batteries. These veOsels, " The 12th died Lord. tlol.ing ,
broke a man who '
. will not be
which were sent by the Queen's Government to Wesel:Ade the '
seen in
less extraordinary lights by posterity than he was by
though for very
coast of Algarve and impede the commercial intercourse be- his contemporaries, .
as
the ditlerent reasons. His
tween this and that part of Portugal, from
which this garri. i own age regarded him eithere greatest statesman, op-
son receives supplies of provisions, are cousequently put hors , pressed by faction, and greatest genius persecuted ley
. ,• • or as the most consummate villain,
de combat, and our cotenaulcation continue:. tree. envy , preserved by
Dispatches were sent off on Saturday evening from , acme , , ncv awl the most treacherous
h)m be had
the Colonial-office, for the Goveruvre of the West India i all parties w(. successively betrayed. Posterity
vriU- look on him as the
colonies. greatest philesophir from Popes

" Sir Robert Walpole and Lord Bolingbroke had set out
rivals at school, lived a life of competition, and died much
in the same manner, provoked at being killed by empirics;
but with the same difference in their manner of dying as bad
appeared in the temper of their lives: the first with a calm-
ness that was habitual philosophy, the other with a rage
that his affected philosophy could not disguise. The one had
seen his early ambition dashed with imprisonment, from
which he had shot into the sphere of his rival, who was
exiled, sentenced, recalled ; while 'Walpole rose gradually to
the height of temperate power, maintained it by the force of
his single talents against Bolingbroke, assisted by all the
considerable geniuses of England; and when driven from it
at last, resigned it without a stain or a censure, and retired
to a private life without an attempt to re-establish himself,—
almost without a regret for what he had lost. The other,
unquiet, unsteady, shucked to owe his return to his enemy,
more shocked to find his return was not to power, incapable
of tasting the retirement which he made delightful to all who
partook it, died at last with the mortification of owing his
greatest reputation to the studies he bad cultivated to dis-
tress his antagonist. Both were beloved in private life; Sir
Robert from the humanity and frankness of his nature
Bolingbroke from his politeness of turn and elegance of un-
derstanding. Both were fond of women ; Walpole with little
delicacy, Bolingbroke to enjoy the delicacy of pleasure. Both
were extravagant; and the Patriot who accused, and the
Minister who had been accused of rapine, died poor or in
debt. Walpole was more amiable in his virtues, Bolingbroke
more agreeable in his vices."
As regards their third qualification, (namely, that of
historical summary), these volumes are certainly not
deficient in interest ; in this respect they are chiefly
valuable for the lights they throw-on the causes of cer
tarn events. " 'Tie trifles make the sum of human
things," and it is often to circumstances apparently most
insignificant that events of great importance may be
attributed. In ordinary histories we are too often
obliged to take things for granted ; to receive certain
transactions as faits accomplis, without being able to
find out how they were accomplished. With
Walpole it is quite otherwise • his memoirs might
appear to any habitual reader of brief histories
somewhat similar to, an introduction to the cele-
brated manufacture of Gobelins tapestry, where,
as is well-known, unlike similar manufactures, all the
work is performed on the wrong side: so that to any
looker-on instead of a beautiful grouping of flowers and
figures it presents only an assemblage of joins and knots.
Of a somewhat similar appearance are these memoirs:
we have a continued succession of petty intrigues,
jealousies, quarrels and raccommendemens, and the
perusal is somewhat interesting it, as we have already
observed, we only regard it as we might look upon the
playing of some game of skill, then we may be perhaps
amused, perhaps interested—though it is sad child's
play at the best—" much ado about nothing " But if
we come to look upon the whole as a history, if we think
that these men were our, ministers, and that these mat-
ters concerned the welfare of millions, then, indeed, we
cannot peruse many of these pages without a sensation of
contempt almost of loathing. To judge from Walpole's per-
haps rather severe picture of his contemporaries, the grand
and, indeed, almost the chief object of all the great men
of his day, was the possession, not so much of power
las of place. This desire was the source of all their
jealousies, animosities, and heart-burnings—the cause of
their apparently noblest actions, and the instigator of
their many, we may almost call them criminal, practices.
These marvellous plots acid counter-plots, cunning de-
ceptions, and petty reprisals—these " joetlings, by dark
intrigue, fur place"—which IValpole here unfolds to us,
are not, perhaps, without some interest ; they would
almost, indeed, appear ridiculous, were there not some-
thing 113011 ntul in their very contemplation. Mournful,
indeed, for in all the varied combinations of phblio affairs,
what can there be more execrable, or more deserving
of unive, sal reprt hension. than the unhappily nut very
uncommon practice of making the welfare of a nation,
and the happiness of countless thousands, subservient to
the paltry pride or ambition of a few? All the heroes
of Walpole's memoirs are not, however, of this un-
hapy character ; conspicuous among, and above all, is
the illustrious name of Pitt—the great Pitt. Although
Horace Walpole was not at all times very favourably
disposed towards him, yet even in his perhaps partial
records, amid the mass of intrigue and petty ambition
and selfishness, Pitt stands forth pure and immaculate—
" the noblest Roman of them all." One of the most
interesting portions of this work is Walpole's account of
the trial and (as we may surely term it) judicial murder
of Admiral Byng. All the particulars of this extraor-
dinary affair are detailed in a most interesting manner—
and naturally so, for Horace Walpole was personally
concerned in them—it was mainly through him that the
execution was delayed for a fortnight, and the matter
brought before Parliament. In this affair Walpole him-
self appears in a more than usually honourable and
noble character—his conduct here as Lord Holland
observes, "does credit to his feelings and humanity."
The following is Walpole'e opinion of the opposite sty*
of Pitt and Fox, or perhaps we should say Lords Chat-
ham and Holland:—
" Pitt was undoubtedly one of the greatest masters of or.
namental eloquence. His lanE.,uage was amazingly fine and
flowing; his voice admirable; his action most expressive;
his figure genteel and commanding. Bitter satire was his
forte : when he attempted ridicule, which was very seldom,
he succeeded happily; when he attempted to reason, poorly.
But where he chiefly shone, was in exposing his own con.
duet : having waded through the most notorious apostasy
in politics, he treated it with an impudent confidence, that
made all reflections upon him poor and spiritless, when
worded by any other man. Out of the House of Commons
he was far from being this shining character. His conver-
sation was affected and unnatural, his manner not engaging,
nor his talents adapted to a country where Ministers must
court, if they would be courted. -
" Fox,
of
a great hesitation in his elocution, and a bar-
renness a expression, had conquered these impediments and
the prejudices they bad raised against his speaking, by a
vehemence of reasoning, and closeness of argument, that
beat all the orators of the time. His spirit, his steadiness,
and humanity procured him strong attachments, which the
more jealous he grew of Pitt, the more he cultivated. box
always spoke to the question, Pitt to the pas--ions: Fox, to
carry the question: Pitt to raise himself: Fox pointed out,
Pitt lashed the errors of his antagonists: Pitt's talents were
likely to make him soonest, Fux's to keep him first Minister
the longest."
Thesexolumes are embellished with portraits of George
IL, Chatham of Newcastle, and some others of the chief
personages mentioned in them. Lord Holland has care-
fully revised the whole of the letter-press, and added to
the notes and appendix of the author. Having said thus
much of this work, we will now, after commending it to
the attention of those too prone to look upon the surface;
and be led astray by appearance and captivated by great
names, dismiss it with the authors own portrait of himself.
" Walpole had kwarm conception, vehement attachments,
strong aversions; with any apparent contradiction in his
temper—for be had numerous caprices, and invincible perse-
verance. His principles tended to republicanism, but without
any of its austerity; his love of faction was unmixed with
any aspiring. He had great sense of honour, but not great
enough, for he had too much weakness to resist doing wrong,
though too much sensibility not to feel it in others. He had
a great measure of pride, equally apt to resent neglect, and
scorning to stoop to any meanness or flattery. A boundless
friend; a bitter, but a placable enemy. His humour was
satiric, though accompanied with a most compassionate
heart. Indiscreet and abandoned to his passions, it seemed_
as if he dispised or could bear no restraint; yet this want of
government of himself was the more blameable, as nobody
had greater command of resolution whenever hemade a
point of it. This appeared in his person naturally very
delicate, and educated with a too fond tenderness, by unre-
laxed temperance, and braving all inclemency of
_weathers,
he formed and enjoyed the finest and unabated health, One
virtue he possessed in a singular degree—disinterestedness
and contempt of money—if one may call that a virtue, which
really was a passion. In short, such was his promptness to
dislike superiors, such his humanity to inferiors, that, con-
sidering how few men are of so firm a texhteumreaays
bneoatlitoowbede
a
influenced by their situation, he thinks, if
to judge of himself, that had either extreme of for
een
his lot, he should have made a good prince, but nottun e b
very
honest slave."

. 1
. ________
ONE HUNDRED SOiVGS OF BERANGER,
with Translations. By William Young.
Great is the lame of a true poet, but immeasurably
the greatest is the fame of a national poet. It is the na-
tionality of the verses of Bryant that renders them so
conspicuous in the poetical literature of America. The
nationality of the lyrical writings of Burns and Moore. is the
secret of their supreme glory in the poetical literatures of
Scotland and Ireland. But Pierre-Jean de Beranger is
a national poet more strictly speaking than eitherhs
Bryam., Burns, or Moore. Beranger has vivifyed
Chansons with the very quintessence of the Frenchnce cha-
racter. His rhymes breathe the voice of
.Fr:of France,
the manners of France, pourtray the
reveal the partialities and prejudices
are instinct with a sentiment peculiarly
coloured with mannerisms exclasiTelY Mu
passions of
They
_Fre_ncehh., and are