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human nature cannot conquer impossibilities. Great allowance, then, must be made for the bulk of the profession, on the score of their prejudices and narrowness of feeling. The bright examples which it has offered in walks out of the profession, were purchased at a sacrifice of legal knowledge. While, therefore, great palliation for the lawyer is to be found in the nature of his calling, he should admit his deficiency in matters foreign to it, and not presumptuously interfere beyond "his last." He must not think himself qualified for a legislator, only because he carries the written laws into effect. To perform what is prescribed, requires far less liberal and elevated talent than those necessary in delivering the prescript. Still the ambition of the profession is proverbial, and the effort of the lawyer to rise in the world often costs sacrifices which would be too dear for men of different habits to pay; but he has no scruples where others hesitate, and verily he has his reward! I.

TROUBADOUR SONGS.
1.
The warrior cross'd the ocean's foam,

For the stormy fields of war;
The maid was left in a smiling home,
And a sunny land afar.

His voice was heard where javelin-showers

Pour'd on the steel-clad line; fler-step was midst the summer-flowers.

Her seat beneath the vine.

His shield was cleft, his lance was riven.

And the red blood stain'd his crest;
While she—the gentlest wind of Heaven

Might scarcely fan her breast.

Yet a thousand arrows pass'd him by,

And again he cross'd the seas;
But she had died, as roses die,

That perish with a breeze!

As roses die, when the blast is come,

For all things bright and fair ;—
There was Death within the smiling home,

How had Death found her there?

2.
They rear'd no trophy o'er his grave,

They bade no requiem flow;
What left they there, to tell the brave

That a warrior sleeps below i

A shiverM spear, a cloven shield,

A helm with its white plume torn,
And a blood-stain'd turf on the fatal field,

Where a chief to his rest was borne!

He lies not where his fathers sleep,

But who hath a tomb more proud?
For the Syrian wilds his record keep,

And a banner is his shroud! F. II

LIFE AND REMAINS OF THE REvEREND EDWARD DANIEL CLARKE, LL.D.*

If it be true that "history, written as it may, is sure to please," biography has still higher claims on the human heart. To a greater dramatic unity, there is added, in this species of composition, the charm of a closer display of individuality and idiosyncrasy—of feelings to participate, and of affections to share. In history, the events are the chief causes of attraction; in biography it is the man which attaches; and, as we pursue the tale, from the cradle to the grave, we so identify ourselves with the hero, that, unless he be among the most worthless and corrupt of his species, we enter into all his views, delight in his successes, are mortified at his disappointments, and part with him at the last page, as with one to whom we had actually been bound through life by the tie3 of friendship. Contemporary biography has even a still stronger hold upon our sensibilities. It is impossible to have lived long in the world without having known something of the man who is eminent enough to have become the subject of a memoir, or of the persons and things with which he has been in relation. Such reading, therefore, is always, in some degree, reminiscence; the associations of" auld lang syne" revive as we proceed, deceased friendships are renewed, forgotten adventures are recalled, old habits and feelings are renovated, and a melancholy and tender interest steals over the mind, quite unconnected with the intrinsic merits of the narration, or the qualities of its hero. During the perusal of tho volume now under consideration, we have been, in some measure, the willing victims of this species of enchantment, but we trust that we are under no undue influence, when we pronounce the work in question to be in no common degree amusing and instructive. Through the whole course of our own academical career, the name of Clarke was " familiar to us as household words;" and two coincidences of time, connecting our academical honours with his, supply the place of immediate acquaintance in giving a personal interest to his history: still, however, we repeat it, Cambridge men, and Cambridge anecdotes, and the still greater tie of some congeniality of pursuits in subsequent life, have but a small share in the pleasure we have received from the perusal of these memoirs.

The history of a literary man is soon told; and even if that literary man has been a traveller, the "personal narrative" of his voyage through life will not occupy many sheets. Of the 670 pages which constitute the volume before us, by far the greater portion is occupied with extracts from Dr. Clarke's manuscript journals and from his letters to his friends, written during his several absences on the continent. These extracts, exhibiting the fir si impressions of the author, and being stamped with the impress of that freshness and that sincerity which so often evaporate in the process of more studied composition, are marked by a vivacity of thought, and a rapidity of narrative, which leave no pause for ennui; and the ideas, being forcibly conceived, are presented to the reader with all the reality and distinctness of sensitive impres

* Life and Remains of the Rev. Edward Daniel Clarke, LL.D. Professor of Mineralogy in the University of Cambridge. 4to. pp.670. vOL. XI. NO. XI.II1. G

sions. The gay good-humour of a constitutionally happy man, whose temperament concentrates all his powers upon the present, and whose constant occupations admit little leisure for fretful retrospects, or for feverish anxieties for the future, i.lumincs all he writes: and though his reflections are far from being uniformly just, his remarks accurate, or his conclusions logical, when he leaves his own peculiar sphere of inquiry to embark in moral or political speculations, yet these excursions are far from frequent or obtrusive; and his observations are for the most part those of a man who sees clearly, and has his heart in all he examines and all he describes.

Dr. Clarke was descended from a line of churchmen and literati. William Wotton was his great grandfather. His grandfather, a fellow of St. John's, was distinguished and dignified by the appellation of mild William Clarke, from his preeminent possession of that quality, at all times too little appreciated, but doubly valuable in a churchman. His father likewise followed the clerical career; and it is not very reputable to the spirit which governs our church and state establishments, that three generations of men, no less gifted with intellectual endowments than remarkable for their virtues, and who were likewise not wholly unbacked by powerful friends, should have had so small a share of church dignities, and should have been unable to accumulate a permanent income for their descendant. At the death of his father, Dr. Clarke was left an undergraduate of Cambridge, with the smallest possible means of pursuing his academic studies; and he was indebted to the friendship of Dr. Beadon, the master of his college, and to the forbearance of the tutors in pecuniary matters, for the means of obtaining a degree. So strongly, however, had nature implanted in him those propensities which have marked his course through life, and laid the basis of his reputation, that under all this pressure, with warm affections to those dear and near relations, who, in some degree, were dependent upon his exertions, and a conscientious regard for his duties, he was unable to tie himself down to the dull and unprofitable routine of collegiate studies; and we find him occupied in amusing the university with a balloon, at the precise moment when, in common prudence, he ought to have been qualifying himself for " an honour." From his earliest youth he had exhibited strong and striking traits of a taste for experimental science: but with a mind restless and incessantly active, he acquired at school the reputition of a dull boy, and passed through college unnoticed, save for his gentle and kindly affections: so unfavourably do bygone institutions, and studies no longer in harmony with the wants of the age, operate' on the best dispositions and the brightest intellects. The remarks of the biographer on this topic merit quotation.

"In this irregular and careless manner, undistinguished as an academic in his own College, and altogether unknown as such to the University at large, was formed and educated almost to the age of twenty-one, a man, who in his maturer years was numbered both at home and abroad amongst the most celebrated of its members; who in various ways contributed not less to its embellishment, than to its reputation; who was honoured and distinguished by it while living, and followed by its regrets when dead.

• • • • •

"It was his misfortune that his education was almost entirely his own, the result of accident rather than of system, and only begun in earnest at that period of life when most others, with equal inconsistency, conceive that they nave finished theirs. The precious years of boyhood and of youth, which are usually dedicated to the acquisition of fundamental truths, and to the establishment of order and method in the mind, were by him wasted in unseasonable pursuits; and though it may be difficult to conjecture what might have been the effect of a different training upon such a mmd, yet certain it is, that the defects most remarkable in his character were precisely those which might be computed from such a cause, viz. a want of due balance and proportion amongst the different faculties of his mind; some having been cultivated at the expense of others; and, by a strange but natural perversity, those having received the most encouragement, which required the. least; and a defective knowledge of principles—an error afterwards singularly aggravated by the analytical process he usually adopted in all his acquisitions, both in language and science, joined to the circumstance of his being thrown into the world, and constituted a guide to others, at too early a period.

"From these defects arose most of the disadvantages which affected the success and happiness of his life. For many years they threw an air of unsteadiness over the whole circle of his pursuits; and, what is worse, they were the cause, that the very finest of his qualities, his imagination and feeling, which were always on the side of genius and humanity, sometimes served to no other purpose thau to lead him astray; inducing strong, but rapid and partial, views of things, and occasionally rash and erroneous conclusions. To these, it may be attributed, that he had many a weary footpath in science to retrace, and many an irremediable error in life to regret; for, although the most candid man alive, he was also amongst the most hasty; and had often advanced too far in the false, but alluring light of his own eyes, before the beams of truth broke in upon him from another quarter. Nor was it till the latter end of his life, when incessant labour had enabled him to go more nearly to the bottom of things, and the duties of his station had induced a greater steadiness in his pursuits, that these original errors of his education had any prospect of a remedy. But had this been otherwise,—had the distinguished qualifications which he afterward displayed, his fine genius and imagination, hi* extraordinary memory, his singular power of patient labour and attention, his ardent love of knowledge, and, above all, his lofty spirit and enthusiasm, in which he was surpassed by none,—had these been employed upon a better foundation and directed by a better judgment; and had the strength of his constitution supported to a more advanced period the exertions of his mind; it may be presumed that they would have borne him, not only to a much greater height of eminence than he actually attained; but, unless the partiality of a friend deceive him, would have given him a name and a place in the estimation of posterity, inferior to few of whom the present age can boast."

In these observations, which are otherwise generally just, the biographer, writing under the full influence of the esprit du corps, attributes too much to university pursuits, and most strangely considers a tendency to analytical inquiry as unfavourable to sound principle. The fact is, that Dr. Clarke's reputation arose entirely out of this inquisitive habit of mind; and had he been trained by university discipline to take established principles for granted, and to reason from generals to particulars, he never would have been heard of beyond the walls of Jesus College. It was the total want of all training, the idle, desultory, and undirected research, of a mind eager to learn, but placed in an atmosphere uncongenial to its energies, which Dr. Clarke had reason to deplore, in his retrospect to the portion of his existence now under consideration. Had he been systematically put forward in the analytical pursuit of the natural sciences, his mind would doubtless have been as well disciplined to the logical deduction of consequences, as if he had employed the best years of his life on Greek metres, or in getttng up sophisms, for a ".first opponency."

Of the several careers which the University holds forth to its poorer sons, private tuition is the most immediately lucrative; and this peculiarity forced it upon Dr. Clarke, as being a paramount consideration. Private tuition led to a tour, and a tour to the publication of a journal, of which the author ultimately repented, as a hasty and ill-judged act of presumption. His first engagement with the Hon. Henry Tufton, in which he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of all parties, was followed by a second, to travel with Lord Berwick through Italy. Of this tour a MS. journal remains; and from it and from his private letters, a series of amusing and curious extracts are given.

In visiting Italy during the explosion of the first revolutionary war, Dr. Clarke is frequently betrayed into a warm expression of opinion. On no occasion perhaps did he ever feel by halves; and on this, the . hereditary and acquired prejudices of a churchman descended from churchmen, broak out in sallies against the French. On this account his remarks upon Neapolitan justice, at p. 107, are valuable as coming from an unwilling witness. The unfortunate termination of the Italian revolution has made it fashionable to decry that movement, and to insult the disappointed victims of, perhaps, a rash enterprise; and the injustices and violence described by Dr. Clarke, with many others of a still more atrocious description, which were practised, and at this day are practised throughout all Italy, are studiously kept out of sight. It is good, therefore, that the facts should be fully and frequently before the public, till Englishmen learn to blush for their alliance with such deeds, and till opinion operates to impress upon English politics a more manly, liberal, and Christian direction, than upholding the slavish institutes of popish and military tyrannies.

Of the energy and cleverness of Dr. Clarke some notion may be formed from the fact, that during his tour in Italy he was enabled not only to pay his college debts, and assist his struggling family, but also to collect pictures, books, prints, and minerals, to an amount which imposed upon them a duty of two hundred and fifty-eight pounds in passing the Custom-house. To ordinary dispositions this tax upon civilization would alone have been an insuperable difficulty; and it is high time that the imports of scientific travellers should be released from such a burden. Whatever tends to the spread of illumination or the amelioration of taste, whatever humanizes manners and raises us above the brute condition of uneducated nature, should be welcomed to our shores, not repelled by avaricious extortion, nor scared away by the injury and destruction of a Custom-house search.

The vocation of Dr. Clarke to travelling and scientific research was now complete; and the foundation was laid of those habits and of that reputation, which produced his engagement with Mr. Cripps and the undertaking the great Continental tour, the narration of which forms the most important labour of his literary life. This journey occupied a period of three years and a half, and was concluded at the end of 1802. Near two hundred pages of extracts are given in the work before us from his letters during his absence, which form a valuable and interesting supplement to the published tour. These letters are marked by all the characteristics of the author's mind: pleasing adventure is

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