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articles, including anecdotes of extraordinary persons, useful projects and inventions, &c. &c.; the fourth, biographical memoirs, literary anecdotes and characters; and the whole is com→ pleted by the insertion of a few topographical notices.

The first volume opens with a very interesting abstract of the ' debate between the Committee of the House of Commons in 1657, and O. Cromwell, upon the humble petition and advice of the Parliament, by which he was desired to assume the title of King. The report, first published in 1660, is described as so awkwardly drawn up, as to be scarcely intelligible, and the substance is here extracted, and translated into modern language. This is done with ability, but we should still much prefer the old ragged original to the polished and suspicious copy. The venerable ancient, no doubt, gave a far more correct transcript of the rough style and reasoning of his own day, than the spruce modern with all his glibness and refinement. The transaction itself is represented as nothing more than a state comedy, which was designed to end, after a proper display of grimace and coquetry, in a coronation; and that the denouement was altered, to Cromwell's excessive mortification, by the clumsy misapprehension of the parliamentary performers. If, however, the business is fairly represented in the tract before us, it was very honestly transacted, and most anxiously debated on both sides; the stern republicans arguing strenuously in behalf of royalty with all its appendages; and the every thing but titular Oliver the first, gravely pleading, in Johnsonian periods, the cause of liberty. The Commons, after a brief exordium, enter upon their subject as follows:

Your highness may demand why, having already made you Chief Justice Protector, invested you with the office of chief maGlynne. gistrate, and intrusted you with the care of our liberties, our commerce, and our honour, we are now grown weary of our institution, and desire to restore a title, which a long series of wicked administration had made it proper to abrogate ? To this we can easily answer, that our request is the request of the people, the people whose interest is chiefly to be considered, and to Sir Charles whom it is your highest honour to be a faithful servant. Wolesley. That they have a right to judge for themselves, to promote their own happiness by their own measures, and to distinguish their servants by what name or titles they shall judge most proper, cannot be denied. Monarchy has always been thought by this nation, the most eligible form of government, and the title of King has been always considered by them as essential to it. Wolesley. The office has never been complained of, nor the title Ch. Justice changed, even by those parliaments that have made the strictest inquiries into the defects of our constitution, and Glynne. have had power to reform whatever they disliked. The office in general was always regarded as useful and necessary, and

Sir Charles

the title was reverenced, when the conduct of him that held it was condemned. It is never prudent to make needless alterations, because we are already acquainted with all the consequences of known establishments and ancient forms; but new methods of administration

may produce evils which the most prudent cannot foreWhitlocke. see, nor the most diligent rectify. But least of all are such changes to be made as draw after them the necessity of endless alterations, and extend their effects through the whole frame of government.' Vol. I. pp. 2, 3.

Cromwell, in the course of his reply, gives a masterly receipt for manufacturing a victorious army.

At the beginning," he states, of the late war between the King. and parliament, I observed that in all encounters the royalists prevailed, and our men, though superior in number, or other advantages, were shamefully routed, dispersed, and slaughtered; and discoursing upon this subject with my worthy friend Mr. John Hampden, a name remembered by most of you with reverence, I told him that this calamity, formidable as it was, admitted, in my opinion, of a remedy, and that by a proper choice of soldiers the state of the war must soon be changed. You are, said I, in comparing our forces with those of the enenty, to regard, in the first place, the difference be. tween their education and habitual sentiments. Our followers are, for the most part, the gleanings of the lowest rank of the people, serving men discarded, and mechanics without employments, men used to insults and servility from their cradles, without any principles of honour, or incitements to overbalance the sense of immediate danger. Their army is crowded with men whose profession is courage, who have been by their education fortified against cowardice, and have been esteemed throughout their lives in proportion to their bravery. All their officers are men of quality, and their soldiers the sons of gentlemen, men animated by a sense of reputation, who had rather die than support the ignominy of having turned their backs, Can it be supposed that education has no force, and that principles exert no influence upon actions? Can men that fight only for pay, without any sense of honour from conquest, or disgrace from being overcome, withstand the charge of gentlemen, of men that act upon principles of honour, and confirm themselves and each other in their resolutions by reason and reflection? To motives such as these, what can be opposed by our men that may exalt them to the same degree of gallantry, and animate them with the same contempt of danger and of death? Zeal for religion is the only motive more active and powerful than these, and that it is in our power to inculcate. Let us choose men warm with regard for their religion, men who shall think it a high degree of impiety to fly before the wicked and profane, to forsake the cause of heaven, and prefer safety to truth, and our enemies will quickly be subdued.

This advice was not otherwise disapproved than as difficult to be put in execution: this difficulty I imagined myself in some degree able to surmount, and applied all my industry to levy such men as were animated with a zeal of religion, and to inflame their fervour

nor did the effect deceive my expectation, for when these men were led to the field, no veterans could stand before them, no obstructions could retard, or danger affright them; and to these men are to be attributed the victories that we have gained, and the peace that we enjoy.' Vol. I. pp. 12, 13.

The discussion terminates with the final refusal of Oliver, in these decisive words:

Upon the calmest reflection, I am convinced that I cannot without a crime, comply with their demand; and therefore as I am far from believing that those who sit for no other end than to preserve the liberty of the nation, can design any infraction of mine, I declare that I cannot undertake the administration of the government, under the title of King.'

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Soon after this, we find a paper of uncommon interest, but wholly unauthenticated, purporting to be an account of the escape of Charles Edward Stuart, con monly called the young Chevalier, after the battle of Culloden.' As far as we are able to judge, without any acquaintance with the local of the events, it seems intitled to credit: but it was clearly the business of the editor to have given us some statement of the history, and some information respecting the writer, of this particular and authentic account.' It is, as might be expected, full of almost miraculous escapes, and of instances of romantic and disinterested attachment, but we now and then detect what has the appearance of exaggeration for instance, when the Pretender was chased by a man of war, and escaping in his little skiff by means of a calm, it seems an odd circumstance that the Captain of the King's ship should never think of hoisting out his boat. It was not however merely from the pursuit of his enemies that the Chevalier was in danger. In the wild and unfrequented country through which his perilous journey lay, he was exposed to all the fury of the elements, and to all the difficulties and hazards of the mountain passes. On one occasion,

At a little distance from these tents they were obliged to pass over a mountain, and a small rivulet that issued from the precipice, which in gliding downward spread over its side, and rendered the steep and pathless route which they took to descend it extremely slippery, it being a mixture of grass and heath. The night was now shut in, and the guide going foremost, his charge came next, and Glenaladale crept along at some distance behind. In this situation it happened that the adventurer's foot slipped, and rolling down the declivity, he would inevitably have been dashed to pieces, if Cameron, who was a little before him, had not catched hold of his arm with one hand, and with the other laid fast hold of the heath. In this situation, however, he found it impossible to continue long, for he that fell not being able to recover his legs, and he that held him, being unable long to sustain his weight, he would soon have been obliged either to quit his hold of the heath, and fall with him, or to Vol. X. N

let him fall by himself. Glenaladale was still behind, and knew nothing of what had happened; and Cameron feared, that, if he called out, his voice might be heard by some who were in search after him. In this dilemma, however, he at last resolved to call, as their only chance; and Glenaladale, alarmed by the cry, ran to their assistance, just in time to preserve them: he laid hold of the adventurer's other arm, and with great difficulty drew him up, and set him upon his feet.' Vol. I. pp. 69, 70.

This story is succeeded by a wearisome account of the 'grand reception of Queen Elizabeth at Cambridge,' in which there seems to have been an universal and generous rivalry in dulness and stupidity. The long and slow processions, prosing orations, and interminable disputations, would have made a decent figure among the games of the Dunciad. Farther on is the often repeated story of the illegitimate son of Richard the Third, with some elucidatory observations by Dr. Pegge. Without intending to give any opinion respecting the authenticity of the account, we observe that one part of Dr. P.'s intended confirmation is at variance with the original tale. He quotes Drake for the fact that Richard had a son who was knighted by him at York this circumstance is not mentioned in the narrative, nor is it at all consistent with it.


The following extract from a paper by Dr. Pegge, on the use and introduction of tobacco, exhibits a man in a singularly awkward state of continual surveillance. We may imagine the unfortunate legatee, with his prying relatives, perpetually on the scent, holding him in unwearied chace, nose and eyes ever on the alert, and offering a heavy premium for the detection of shag and pigtail.

Peter Campbell, a Derbyshire gentleman, made his will 20 Oct. 1616, and therein has the following very extraordinary clause, "Now for all such houshold goods at Darley, whereof John Hoson hath an inventory, my will is, that my son Roger shall have them all toward houskeepinge, on this condition, that yf at any time hereafter, any of his brothers or sisters* shall fynd him takeing of tobacco, that then he or she so fynding him, and making just proofe thereof to my executors, shall have the said goods, or the full valewe thereof, according as they shall be praysed, which said goods shall presently after my death be valewed and praysed by my executors for that purpose." Vol. I. p. 265.

An anonymous correspondent communicates, in the following quotation, a very satisfactory account of the origin of the word Lady. In all ages, and in all countries, we believe that females have been honourably distinguished by their superior benevolence, and their title, unlike some others that we could name, has been the meed of genuine desert.

*There were five brothers and three sisters, so that he would havę had many eyes upon him.'

'As I have studied more what appertains to the ladies than to the gentlemen, I will satisfy you how it came to pass that women of fortune were called ladies, even before their husbands had any title to convey that mark of distinction to them. You must know, then, that heretofore it was the fashion for those families whom God had blessed with affluence, to live constantly at their mansionhouses in the country, and that once a week, or oftener, the lady of the manor distributed to her poor neighbours, with her own hands, a certain quantity of bread, and she was called by them the Leff-day, i. e. in Saxon, the bread-giver. These two words were in time corrupted, and the meaning is now as little known as the practice which gave rise to it; yet it is from that hospitable custom, that, to this day, the ladies in this kingdom alone, serve the meat at their own tables.' Vol. I. p. 295.

In a critical letter signed R. O. P. (Vol. II. p. 351.), we meet with some ingenious, though objectionable criticism. The writer betrays a good deal of that captious and refining spirit, which, if carried to its utmost extent, would sweep away a large portion of the most genuine beauties of our best writers; for instance, he objects to the following line.

"In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble, Joy."

"Folly's cup," he says, "taken by itself, is poetical;" "laughs the bubble," in allusion to the common expression sparkling wine, is also poetical. But what means "the bubble Joy laughs in Folly's cup?" "Joy is there made a person or passion, and a bubble at the same time.".

Independently of the absurdity of the last observation, we will venture to say that there is scarcely a line of English poetry that would stand against such word-catching as this. Again he is offended at,

"As one whose DROUTH

Yet scarce allay'd still eyes the current stream."

The application of eyes to drouth,' says this gentleman, 'is improper.' Perhaps so---but the editor of the selection is perfectly right when he asks in a note, does not the verb eyes refer to one instead of drouth?' The following censure of a very happy phrase, is as perfect a specimen of hypercriticism as we almost recollect to have met with.

"The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing,

Prescribed her heights, and pruned her tender wing."

The PRUNING of a wing is a term inapplicable, and introduces an idea foreign to the purpose'---true, if the poet, like the critic, borrowed his simile from the kitchen-gardener, but if he went to the Falconry for it, we can neither discern its incorrectness nor its irrelevancy*.

*To Prune, as the Hawk prunes, i. e. picks her wings."-Bailey's Dictionary.

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