The Sun.
London, England, 1840-12-24 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

QUARTERLY REVIEW, No. CXXXIII.
Murray, London, 1840.
The character of the late Earl of Dudley, which
Lord Brougham has portrayed with such spirit in
a recent Number of the Edinburgh Review, forms
the subject of one of the most delightful essays in
the present Quarterly. We call the essay de-
lightful, first, because it is lively, piquant, and con-
versational in its tone ; and, secondly, because it
abounds in anecdotes and personal reminiscences,
which give us a clearer insight into the very peculiar
idiosyncrasy of the Noble Earl than whole pages
of mere reflection could do, even were they enforced
by the weighty wisdom of a Johnson. We do
not, however, agree with the Reviewer,,in his esti-
mate of Lord Dudley's powers of mind, but arc of
opinion that he considerably overrates him, when he
asserts that his intellect " was of the highest order."
That he was a well read man, and a sound classical
scholar, we admit ; his " Letters to the Bishop of
LlandafF" prove this ; but they prove also that his
mind was wanting in all the essential elements of
greatness, possessing neither force, originality, com-
prehensiveness, nor elevation of character. It
was just the mind of an accomplished Eng-
lish aristocrat—nothing more. In vain do
we seek in his published Letters for any indica-
tions
of that profound or subtle thought which
stamps the strongly marked intellect ; the
reflections have nothing suggestive about them ;
they take no hold on the attention ; they never
soar aloft on the wings of fancy or philosophy ; but
jou steadily along the tame flat level of mediocrity..
Hsd his Lordship's correspondence never been
printed, the world might still have imagined he was
the great man that his friendly biographers would
fain insist that he was ; but the dream is now dis-
pelled—the charm is broken—and the precious
porcelain turns out to be a very ordinary piece of
pottery. In a few years, when-his admirers shall
all have passed from the stage of existence, society
will forget that such .a man as Lord Dudley ever
existed—for his Letters will certainly confer no im-
mortality on his name ; but such is not the destiny
that awaits a master-mind, which, long after it has
sunk below the master-mind,
leaves a brilliant trail of
nbi.4. t....L.:....i. t 1.....4 n,,,11,,y," ,„,„,,, ,h. 1 _
viewer, " was a Reformer abroad, a Conservative
at home. He was frightened at his own noise,
when the hollow echo rebounded across the narrow
Channel." In other words, this man of "an in-

tellect of the highest order," abandoned his
political convictions the instant there was a
chance of their producing a practical effect
on the country. lie was a Reformer just so
long as Reform was a mere word—an empty
sound ; but when it became a thing_a substance—
a real active principle—then, from sheer fright, he
turned Conservative I What sad imbecillity is
this I Bu the plain truth is, his Lordship was a
mere waverer in politics. He was wholly destitute
of that earnestness and energy which spring from a
deep, settled conviction of the truth. He was not a
Whig, neither could he be said to be a Tory; but
he combined the most valueless qualities of both
parties—the te►nporizing habits of the one, with
the unworthy distrusts ar.d prejudices of the other.
That we ►nay not, however, be supposed to be un-
duly disparaging a man who had many good pro-
perties of fend and heart—who was a sincere
friend, an able scholar, generous in an eminent de-
gree, of moral habits, and a zealous, unaffected
Christian, we quote the Reviewer's sketch of his
character : .

The tale of the Bishop's early pupil was that of an
eastern fable, where the good fairy showers over the cradle
of the new-born infant blessings without stint, which arc
converted into curses, through the annexation of cne fatal
condition by some malevolent genius. He was born to
rank, title, and unbounded affluence : his person and man-
ner were agreeable; his intellect of the highest order.
was coupled with an industry, a thirst for knowledge,
which might have shamed the poor student whose bread
must be earned by the sweat of his brew, lie united to
the blood of the racer, the sure perseverance of the tor-
toise. His taste was refined to fastidiousness; his me-
mory was wax to receive, and marble to retain ; his powers
of illustration have seldom been rivalled ; the results of
his deep reading were parcelled out in such nice order that
everything was forthcoming, without effort or ostentation,
at the exact moment when it was must wanted. Fulfilling
Lord Bacon's grand recipe—his reading made him full ;
his habits of society, ready ; his writing exact. His wit
was prompt, sparkling, and epigrammatic ; it was playful
I 4.Agent, not, however, from weakness: it was the
4,1:; Which could afford to be generous. To
giant's streo,. r the head, were superadded a gentle
twalities o. _ • - a freedom from pride or
and aifeCtialfia4 'es; in a word, all the
vanity, a sithplielty o'ffiritiiiifowdm.._, • a real E„R•
sterling fcatarea of that tif@f4Y410...., -- ask for
lish Whitt tore dorrld a hind in9tb..
an only child; yet the,t*i tkd ;Yid& these, lift._
lavished on poor Lord Dudley ; fel; fo'6'i li3" we, h happi-
ness, though rich in all the elements vrbiei appitteAlly
would the most conduce to its perfection. The gifts of
fortune and intellect were counterbalanced by an organic
malformation of the brain, which, rivetted by the system of
his education, increased with his years, and, having em-
bittered his whole existence, buried these brightest pros-
pects in the darkness and solitude of insanity.
In the terse, biographical memoirs of "American
Orators and Statesmen," every pes3ible justice is
done to the energetib patriotism of those crriloent
speakers in Congress, who firm rye that mighty
national impulse which for ever septitOted the
United States from the mother-country. Forel-1;0.1
among these sturdy democrats stood Patrick Henry,
whose iinpassioned eloquence is stated to have pro-
duced quite an electrical effect on all who heard
him. He was a wholly uneducated man, his
person coarse, his manners awkward, his dress
slovenly, and his conversation rude ;'' but when he
came to enter into the active business of life, he
found the necessity of hard reading ; and accord-
i,igiy, we arc told, in the midst of his inisfortune6
aq en agriculturist, " he was deep in a translation
of Livy, whose eloquent harangues particularly
attracted him." In 1774 he was elected a mem-
• ' "at Congress, and in the ensuing year
her of the
e--,,,,lutions for arming
oe IJIVU,6II, ?rIVVci a series o,
occa-
the Colonie.a. The speech he 11;:.(le ""'
• slob Was a meitiofabk ott,2. and from the eCtraL...
given by time lievie;,vei-; eve ti easily belie !tilt
it carried all 'refute it, The eloquebee is fat: iliar,
and senteittiOttS, and of h blast Ppitit-gtirtibm order,
blending the simple energy of Chatham with the
epigrammatic point and frequent felicitous meta-
phor of Grattan. There is not a sentence—not
even a word thrown away. The very imagery rises
strictly out of the subject, as when the orator says,
"Our chains arc forged. Their clanking may be
heard on the plains of Boston ! Gentlemen may
cry, peace, peace,
ce but I there is 110 peace.
Wilf is aEtriall‘,- be" : next
sweeps from the north, will bring to our car
the clash of resounding arms." If Wash-

ington achieved America's independence, by
his sword, there is no eitie!tion that the fountrii:o:l
of it" liberty was laid by the eloquence of Patrick
Henry. " Zionty.Anism in helarnJ,” is an article
whose chief blemish ig, i‘.hat it is too much of an
alarmist character. The toc'siin is rung, and for
what? To tell us " that some vower of a mys-
terious and alarming nature is now, Lind has been
for years, working in the heart of Ireland 1" Sound-
ing words these, but there is far more sound than
sense in them. The " mysterious power" of 1
which the Reviewer insists with such emphasis,
is so far from being a mystery, that it is as palpa-
ble as Mr. Tooke's desire to sacrifice everything to
a seat in Parliament, and quite as evident as the
fact that he ilill never obtain that distinction. The
" poorer" at work in Ireland, is neither more nor
less than that of discontent, occasioned, naturally
enough, by the constant indisposition of the Lords
to do adequate justice to that aggrieved country.
" Foreign Policy," though we disapprove some of
its sentiments, in which party prejudice peeps out,
is on the whole a sensible, and we may even add, a
1 dispassionately reasoned article. The comments on
M. "Biers' late rash war-clamour are penned in
the justest spirit ; nor can anything be more strictly
correct than the statement that " the com-
motion he excited in France was a mixture of
personal pique at his own failure, and of
party tactics to cover his retreat." The text
of the paper on the " Affairs of the Church of
Scotland," is furnished by Lord Aberdeen's Bill,
of which the Reviewer says that " it preserves the
6.61 rights of the patron, but subjects it to limita-
tions alto recognised by law, and necessary to pre-
vent its abuse:" From these few significant words
utIT readers will gather a pretty accurate idea of the
sort of spirit that pervades the article in question.
" Infant Labour" is an essay very much to our
taste, for it adopts the humane view of the queg-
Lion, which is always the rational, and, eventually,
i the successful one.

COMIC MISCELLANIES. 2 You'.
Co!burn, London, 1840.
We are not surprised at these volumes having
rebelled a second clition, for they are just the sort
of things to please, ccir.sisting, for the most part,
of light, airy, prose essays ; poems sparkling with
lively fancies, and polished wi:lt evident care ;
epigarris full of point, and remind:9g the reader
of the wits of Queen Anne's days; aad songs,:
penned originally for Mathews' "At Honieb,
and stuffed with such racy humorous conceits 1s
would have delighted O'Keefe, who was the very
prince of farcical song writers. To add to the at-
tractions of these " Comic Miscellanies," a brief
Memoir of their author, James Smith, is prefixed.
from the pen of his brother Horace, which places
him before us in a truly amiable light, as a cheer-
ful, unaffected, man of wit, without a particle of
spleen or malice in his nature, a warm-hearted
friend, a►nd an intelligent and highly-accomplished
gentleman. Such a person is sure to be a general
favourite in society, and accordingly James Smith
could boast of " troops of friends," at whose
houses he was ever a welcome guest. His famous
" Rejected Addresses," which first brought him
into repute, kept him alive as a lion—a rare cir-
cumstance in light literature—to the latest hour of
his existence; a►►d but a short time before his death,
he had the satisfaction of learning that this cele-
brated jeu d'esprit was passing through its nine-
teenth edition—an unparalleled popularity for a
trifling volume intended only for the passing mo-
ment ! Its success appears ever after to hare acted
as a sort of night-mare on his energies; he was pre-
vented henceforth from attempting any work of
consequence by the fear of diminishing the splendor
of his reputation ; and " inflexibly adhered," says
his biographer, " to his favourite position, that
when once a man has made a good hit, he should
rest upon it, and leave off a winner." There is
good sense in this remark, but it is not the sort of
sense that would have influenced the mind of a man
conscious of the possession of high genius. His
first successful effort would have stimulated him to
future ones, and given him courage, instead of fill-
ing him with apprehensions. Sir Walter Scott
and Lord Byron were not deterred from persevering
in their literary career by the success of their Wa-
verleys and Childe Harolds. They knew that the
good stuff was in them, and wisely and boldly re-
solved that it should find vent. But the truth
is, James Smith rested satisfied with the fame
he had acquired by his " Rejected Addresses,"
because he knew well that he had done all he was.
ever likely to do. He had made one lucky hit,
and ❑either by his powers of wit or fancy—both of
which were of a limited, second-rate order—did he
feel himself justified in attempting a second. His
Comic Miscellanies are admirable of their
kind, but such is their shallow and evanescent dia.
ratter, that we forget them almost the instant after
we have laid down the volumes.

EVENING ED ITIOv.
PRINCE LOUIS NAPOLEON.

The Prinev Louis Napoleon has forwarded to some et
.;s friends in Paris the following invocation to the manes
of the Emperor :
" Citadelle do Ham, 15 Dkembre, 1840.
". Sire—Vous revenez dans votre capitate, et Ic peupla
en route salue votre retour ; mais moi du fond demon es-
chot je ne puis aperccvoir qu'un rayon du solei( qui eclair°
vos ftinerailles
" N'en voulcz pas a votre famille de ce qu'elle n'est pas
is pour vous recevoir. Votre exit et vous malheurs ont
cease avec votre vie ; mais les mitres durent toujours
Voui etes most sur un rocher loin de la pstrie et loin
dos wires.. La main d'un fils n'a point fermi! vos yells ;
aujeork..
'hut encore aucun parent ne conduira votre &nil!
m'on:holon, lui que vous amies le plus parmi vos
devoues
it eat pagnons vous a rendu tessoins d'un fils ;
rest 6 6..hfle a votre pensee, a vos dernieres volontesit ;
m's rapport. orbs dernieres paroles. Aujourd'hui it est
en prison comme
" lin vaisseau Fra ncais conduit par un noble jeune
homme est elle re.dan,er 'Jos cendres, mais c'est envain que
vous cherchiez sur lo quelqu'un des viitres. Votre
famille n'y etait pas
" En abordant au sol Francsn, un chic Cectrique s'est
fait sentir. Vous vous etes s Malt 1/6 dans wove cercueil„
vos yeux se sont ouvcrts un moment. La drapcau tricolore
flottait sur le rivage, mais votre n'y etait pas I
Le people se presse comme autrefutb sur votre passage'
it vous salue de ses acclamations con'tge si vous clot
vivant; mais les grands du jour tout en vols rendant horn-
mege discnt tout bas. Dieu! ne l'eveillez I)"
airn •f"
" Vous avez enfin revu ces Francais que yous l
tans ; 70US etes revenu dans cettc France que vous aviez
rendue si grande; mais l'etranger y a laisse des ti'sices que
les pompes scules de votre retour n'effaceront pas I
Voycz cette jeune armec, cc sont les fits de vos t Irave.it s;
vous vetierent car vous etes la gloire, mais on feu"' dlt
croisez vos bras I
4' Sire, le peuple c'est la bonne etoffe qui couvre
beau pay's, mais ces hommes que vous avez fait si gralsks
et qui etaient si petits. Ah, Sire, ne les regrettez es! i
..s ont rcnie votre &and°, vos ideas, votre glow,
votre sang. Quand je leur ai parte de votrc cause
tL
m'ont dit—Nous ne la comprenons pas
" Laissez les dire, laissez les faire ; qu'irnporte au ch
qui route !es grains de sable qui se jettent sous les% 3-01ar
.CS•
Its ont beau !lire quo vous fetes un me.eare que no. talsr
OS
point de traces, its ont beau nicr votre gloire
civil
ne nous deal eriterons pas
" Sire, le quinze Delembre est un grand jour pour le
France, et pour moi, Du milieu de votre somptuetlo,
cortege, dedagnant car taint hommages vous avez un
in-
stautjetc vos regards su: ma sombre demeure, et vont'
souvenant des caresses que v7us prodiguiez a mon enfancer
veils m'avez dit—Tu souifres pour moi, awl ; je suss
con-
tent de Lei! "

A FREE TRANSLA rioN.
Fortress of Haw, Dec. 15, 1840.
Sire,—You return to your capital, and the people to
crowds welcome you back ; but. I, alas ! from the deptwhich of
my dungeon can only catch a glimpse of that ray
illumines your funeral. not present
ceased
Take it not ill of your family, that they arc
w receive you; your exile and your misfortunes
a veur life, but ours still endure.
\'-:,u expired on a rock, far from your country and yo
ad
friends. The hand of a son closed not your eyes ;
even now oot one of your race is present to conduct ycoa
you loved the
to the tomb.
Montholon, he, wt.
performed
of all your devoted companions
your will was his, het,:itL'fully obeyed your last wisbcs ;12
convent°
he told me your last words; .
A French vessel, commended ,by
but he is now my
erformed the last duties of a son;
in prison.
Prince, was •.. ben, to convey back yaw but you looked
ashes, .
.our
in vain there for even one member Pf •your house , )
family were all absent. • i, like that
ock r
On approaching the soil of France a a,
an illustrious young
from lightning was felt ; you raised yours.lif TheiY°.o
tut
shroud, you opened your eyes for a moment. as "t
coloured flag floated on the coast, but your eagle n.
there !
The people, as in bygone days, thronged the processiork;
they welcomed you with acclamations( as they were woe
when you lived; but the rulers of the day. while they ren-
dered you all due homage, whispered to each other, " In
1 God's name 1 le: us not disturb his repose 1"
You have again beheld Frenchmen whom you loved so
well ; you have returned to that France which you Ten-
dered so IlusiZions; but foreigners have there left traces of
their footsteps, which this pompous display slope can
never efface.
You behold that younj army, the children of your bra"
warriors; they worship y,:u as the god of their glory, but
the word of command to the is—Be still.
Sire, the people that inhabit our beautiful country ard
still men of the same stamp, but for those whom yots
made so great, for those whom jott found so little, baa's
They have renounced your faith, par ideas, ylory,
no regrets. our g
your very blood. When I addressed them in behalf of
your cause,. they replied-4. Wu understaad you not." e
Heed not what they say nor what they do ; the rains '3'
sand o'er which the wheels of the chariot roll affect it not.
These men may say you were a meteor that left no traces
behind, but they vainly attempt to deny your glory. They
can never disinherit you.
Sire, the Fifteenth of December is a great day for
France and for me. From the midst of the pornFous.
procession, and treating with contempt this show of
homage, you have turned to my dismal abode, and calling
to mind the caresses you heaped upon me in infancy,
you have thus said, " Friend, thou sufferest for my sake;
thy conduct I approve."