consent of the Authoress, and made presents of them to his friends. Mathias, in common with my father, and I may add also Sir Egerton Brydges, thought that poetry had stopped with Gray and Mason, several of whose poems Mathias translated into Italian, and printed for private circulation, having, it appears, the same bibliomania as the aforenamed Sir Egerton, who printed numberless volumes abroad and at home, where he had a private printing-press-a strange mania! and to him a very expensive one. A friend of mine, who knew Mathias well, says he greatly depreciated Byron, and laughed heartily at the following. Begins to grizzle the dark locks of night." Although generally considered the author of the "Pursuits of Literature," he all his life strenuously and almost with anger denied having any participation in that pedantic and Jesuitical work, now almost forgotten. No one who was acquainted intimately with him, would have suspected Mathias of its authorship. Whatever hand he might have had in the text, the notes he certainly did not write, for he was no Greek scholar. Dr. Parr, whom we met at Holkham, and who was, at that time, tutor to the then heir apparent of Mr. Coke, wished on the contrary to be thought the author of "Junius," and would often say, with his thick manner of speaking, as if his tongue were too large for his mouth, and looking significantly at his wife, Mitthith Parr and I know who wrote 'Thunnius.""" One day at dinner, he said to a lady next to him, whilst he was inhaling some favorite dish, "Mith B., we breathe here the pure air of phatriotism." Perhaps he was at that moment eating a dish of green fat, to which he had no objection, being a great gourmand, and punning on the word. This pupil of his used to play him many practical jokes, one of which occasioned a great laugh by his heavy fall, the chair having been drawn from under him. ** oozed patiently but heavily on ;" but adds, He did not perhaps observe a ridiculous occurrence, which accidentally assisted in the condemnation of the piece. In one of the most tragic scenes, a current of air, not altogether unknown behind the scenes, puffed up the white satin dress of the heroine, threatening, like a balloon, to carry her off the stage: a gentle hum, a murmur of suppressed risibility first disturbed the stillness around. In vain a "hush! hush!" echoed from all sides-puff came the wind again. The gallery sent down a confused tumult into the pit, and soon the theatre resounded with merriment, mixed up with faint and gradually louder hisses, which frustrated the vain endeavors of the applauding party. Upon so mere a trifle sometimes does success in the more important stage of life often depend, and by as mere an incident is it often overturned. A tragedy is of all compositions the most difficult, and often, when it may read well, a totally different effect, or none at all, may be produced on the stage. Byron says that few women can write a tragedy, but adds, that he can conceive the possibility of Semiramis and Catharine the Great doing so. Lady But to return to Lady Dacre, at the time Dacre's amiable qualities are well known to Mrs. Wilmot, I was present at the first and those who have the privilege of her aclast representation of her tragedy, in which quaintance: her modelling of horses surmy father took great interest. She herself passes anything ever seen in relievo, and was seated with a large party of her friends her talent for writing, both in prose and in one of the side boxes. Lord Byron verse, her works can testify. Few persons speaks, in Moore's Life, of also witnessing have had an opportunity of forming a right the performance. He says, "The three judgment on this tragedy, as her works, first acts, with transient gushes of applause, though printed, have never been published, with the exception of the Canzones before mentioned. exaggerated rhodomontade, and did not believe it possible that schools or universities could flourish in that land (although he had, indeed, heard of Göttingen), that land of printing and of reading, where, so great is the march of intellect, that the commonest servant during her few leisure hours will feast upon the translated works of Bulwer and Marryat, and the mere usher of an inferior school possesses his wellstored libraries of choice books. At the annual meetings of the Bible Society at Norwich, my father was ever present, and I believe sometimes spoke, if he did not take the chair; and this circumstance cemented his friendship with many distinguished persons who came from far and near to be present on the occasion, all anxious promoters of the cause. Among Thus having spoken of the Prelate's favorite Italian, I must observe that he was conversant with the literature of the French tongue, the chosen recreation, as I have said, of the old earl, during the time that he was his companion, particularly of the authors of the much vaunted Siècle de Louis Quatorze here, too, he thought, with many of the bigoted admirers of the so called classic age, that writing ought to have stopped. The names of Victor Hugo, George Sand, De Lamartine, Balzac, Eugene Sue, and a host of these contemporaries, were unknown to him. Like also to many of the lovers of Racine, he clung to the hallowed recollections of his earlier days, and thought that in French, cramped and feeble as must ever be, comparatively the foremost, and above all in zeal, was speaking, their poetry, the force of nature Mr. Wilberforce, whose eloquence somecould go no further than in the "Songe times so softened the hearts of the most obd'Athalie," or the tiresome, long, and durate, those who had attended the meetsing-song speeches in Corneille's tragedies, ing with the full resolution of not being exceedingly beautiful though they may be. subdued, and purposely had left behind The male and female rhymes marching side them the means of contributing to the fund; by side, and the division ef every verse into that such persons had been known to detwo equal parts, were rendered anything but posit at the door watches, rings, and other musical to the ear of taste, even by Talma's articles of value, as pledges. He was an finest declamation; and I have heard my extraordinary man, and his faults, if he had father say that great actor experienced but them, were the faults of a great mind, and one regret, that he had not been destined ought to be buried in the grave; while his to revel in the freedom of English blank verse, enthusiasm, his benevolence, and his virand in the unfettered eloquence of a tues, leaving behind them as they did lastShakspeare. ing memorials, must live for ever. His oratory was impressive and riveting; and every sentiment, coming as it did from the bottom of his soul, struck with electric force into the bosom of his hearers. He might, such was his eloquence, have pleaded any cause, and made (had he been willing) even the worse appear the better. What wonder, then, that he should succeed in that great cause so near and so dear to his heart-the Bible? He diversified his harangues with interesting anecdotes of the value and success of this society, and of the providence of God blessing it. Among the rest, he told a story of a young sailor who had received from the society a Bible, which he laid next his heart, and during an action a bullet struck him and There are many of the old school, who even raise their voices against the romanticism of the present style of French literature the coinage of new words and the revival of old ones imparting a power to their prose, and almost to their poetry, before unknown; and perhaps in part attributable to a growing taste for English, and a familiarity with our modern writers, who have given an additional strength to our own language by similar innovations. The study of German has also not been without its effect. Of that language and its literature my father of course knew nothing. I believe in his time there were scarcely in England a dozen good German scholars. We had then, too, no translations from the German; which, after all, were poor compensations for the originals, sometimes even impossible ones, as in the instance of Göthe's "Faust." He had also formed the idea with many others, on the faith of the Anti-Jacobin and other works of the day, that the literature of Germany was an * A beautiful statue, in a sitting posture, of this great man was executed by Joseph, an artist who was peculiarly happy in the intellectual and speaking expression of his likenesses, of which this is a striking proof. A small model of this statue, shortly sion forwarded him for his inspection. He was before my father's death, was by Joseph's permismuch pleased with it. 1 lodged in the book, thus protecting his life. | sisted of various sects and religions, though Among others who were distinguished for allied together, nevertheless, in unceasing their oratory and ardor in the cause, were harmony, she had been one of the mourners the Rev. Mr. Marsh,* of Colchester; Sir at the funeral of the eldest of the family, Fowell, at that time Mr. Buxton; and the who, young himself, and in every way gifttwo Rev. Messrs. Cunningham, brothers, ed, followed his yet younger bride with one of whom was the author of a celebrated rapid strides to the grave. little work, entitled "The Velvet Cushion." These three latter were connected by marriage with a native of Norwich, one of the warmest promoters of the Society, Joseph John Gurney;t who delivered with that plain and simple character appropriated to his sect, and with that modesty for which he was so eminently distinguished, in true simpleness of heart, his pure and Christian sentiments. There were few persons whom my father loved and esteemed more than Mr. Gurney. They resembled each other in simplicity of character and in singleness of heart, and in the wish not to live in vain. It was to the hospitable mansion of Mr. Gurney, near Norwich, that the whole party resorted after the labors of the day to partake of a repast. No person who had ever been present at these happy meetings, or who had joined the society of these individuals, so distinguished for their devout fervor, would agree in a too commonly accepted opinion, that religion brings with it gloom and misanthropy, for no persons are so cheerful as the really religious. The life of the party was Wilberforce; he spoke well on all subjects, and his cheerfulness imparted itself to all around him. Two ladies equally distinguished in different ways were present. Mrs. Fry, the sister of the host, and now, alas! no more, and Mrs. Opie, who had then first embraced the opinions of the Society of Friends, and was warmly allied in friendship with the family of the host, whose intellectual qualities and many virtues rendered them the delight of a numerous circle. Amelia Opie, one of the well-known and then more rare female authors, was a native of Norwich, and was also the esteemed friend of my father, of whom she had some twenty years ago written in the "Gentleman's Magazine" a slight memoir. Not long before the above-mentioned meeting of friends and orators, in a family which con * This zealous minister bore a striking likeness to the most celebrated pictures of our blessed Lord. Author of the Practical View of Christianity, and many other works. The Society of Friends. Mrs. Opie was one of the few lady writers on whom my father bestowed the meed of praise, for he was not fond of display in our sex, and I believe gentlemen are generally of the same opinion; perhaps in the comparatively weak minds of women there is often little or much vanity mixed up with their sometimes feeble efforts, and the fear of ridicule may deter many who could please from making the attempt. After Mrs. Opie and Lady Dacre, my father held in high esteem the acquaintance of his earlier day, Charlotte Smith, whose simple manners and retiring character left upon his mind a more pleasing impression than even her talents. With Hannah More he was slightly acquainted, but had more than once declined meeting Madame de Staël at one of those coteries which above all things he disliked, where literary subjects are studied in the morning for the purpose of being discussed and making a display in the evening. Among those ladies whose saciety most pleased him, may be numbered not many, perhaps none, who shone conspicuous in the world of fashion, but many more who were distinguished for their amiability and attainments; among these may be mentioned Miss Millbank, who created at one time some interest in consequence of her having married, and afterwards separated herself from Lord Byron ;-a union equally unsuitable on both sides, and the fatal consequences of which made an exile from his country of one of its greatest poets. My father had known Lady Byron from her childhood; the two families having been neighbors in the county of Durham. He considered her a superior person. Her attainments were highly rated, and probably with justice; and being an heiress and without pretensions, such attainments were the more readily admitted. I remember the Bishop being particularly struck with the Greek characters, from some old author, with which she headed a copy circulated about town of the lines in manuscript written upon the Prince (then Regent), standing between the tombs of Charles I. and Henry VIII. The translation of the motto was "blood mixed with dirt." I know not whether the Greek was transcribed by herself or Lord | honored with the confidence of many disByron. Lady Byron had the character of tinguished ladies; among others the soibeing a good Greek scholar, which Lord Byron never was. This was before the marriage. I was a young girl, but had my imagination raised to the highest pitch by the perusal of the works of my adored poet, when I accompanied my mother to pay a congratulatory visit to the bride elect, whom I found with her mother engaged in that then fashionable employment of making shoes. The operators were at the moment of our entrance in great confusion from the upsetting of the bowl of water containing the cobbler's wax-an employment though economical far from poetic, and which, when we returned to the carriage, occasioned my mother to burst into an almost inextinguishable fit of laughter. Lady Byron was an only child, perhaps a spoilt one; she was just the kind of character the poet was unlikely to admire or to estimate. She had plain good sense, a cold and calculating judgment. She was simple and plain in her manners, plain in dress, though not absolutely plain in her person, plain in sentiment, plain in her wishes and desires, and above all plain in her understanding of others. That she mistook for insanity the fine phrensy of a poet, or that she could expect or wish anything else in the first poet of the then day (for Shelley has since far eclipsed him), was a very plain proof of the extent of her judgment. Lord Byron was unfortunate, for he had never met with a woman who suited him; he sought in vain, and none had chanced to cross his path. He was remarkable for his kindness and tenderness to the sex, and had never wounded the feelings of any woman whatsoever. Pity that during the very few months his wife gave him the trial, a time hardly sufficient to try any one, even a domestic, she alone should have found him otherwise! My father, in the amiability of his heart, always sided with the weaker sex, and his ear was ever open to their grievances. I have heard him often and often bewail the lot of woman, and the cruel laws which weigh in our land, at least, so heavily upon her. No wonder that he was a favorite with the ladies, and consulted by them upon every occasion, and of course they could easily persuade him; thus doubtless he was the strong partisan of the above named young friend, and these remarks are less his than my own. The prelate was disant Duchess of Sussex, who applied to him with unwearied zeal to exercise his influence with the Duke, his friend, to restore her to her would be honors, and to acknowledge her to the world as his lawful wife, &c.; although the matter had been before arranged, by her own consent, and she had accepted a title of Countess and the terms offered to her. She still maintained all the dignity of royalty. I remember, when with my mother, meeting her at Dumerg's in Piccadilly; she was standing at the window, and called our attention to some person who she imagined was drowning in the pond, though it was only a child's toy being set afloat. She was a painted, affected creature, and to our great surprise (for we knew not at the time who she was) was continually entreating us, in the most condescending manner, to sit down. Among other oppressed, or self-supposed oppressed ladies, Queen Caroline had been introduced one evening at the British Gallery; I remember her well, and both her manner and conversation left an unfavorable impression. To return again to my father, it might not perhaps be said that he was a man of extraordinary talents; but his intellects, which were fine and clear, were highly cultivated; he possessed a finely framed imagination, lively, pure, and delicate, which displayed itself in a conversation ever delightful, and it was his greatest charm that he was always amiable. Sir Bulwer Lytton commences a chapter in his "Pilgrims of the Rhine" with this elegant compliment to my father, "Once upon a time, the virtues, weary of living for ever with the Bishop of Norwich," &c. It is to be regretted that he left behind him, neither in poetry nor in prose, any work that might serve as a lasting memorial. His speeches in the House, and one or more sermons, are nearly the only printed memorials extant. He wrote a beautiful letter upon all subjects; simple, clear, elegant, and touching, from the tone of tenderness, affection, and deep interest with which he addressed all those dear to him. Could his letters be collected, and properly selected, they would, perhaps, form as beautiful a volume as could be presented to the public; at the same time serving far better than weak description to paint the real loveliness of that mind which was written upon the page; that spirit, which, con scious of innate rectitude, walked straight-| almost unexpectedly extinct; often gleamforward in the path of life, plucking the ing like a flickering flame again and again, flowers on every side, and enduring with until we believed that it could never absouncomplaining cheerfulness, its thorns and lutely be extinguished; so great was its viroughs. Self, being ever forgotten, he tality-so difficult was it to reconcile death passed on loving all, and hating not even with one who was to become his victim. his enemy. His great longevity may be attributed in part to his habits of temperance through life, temperance of mind, and temperance of body; he was a man of the most simple tastes, simple and innocent feelings-so innocent, that he could scarcely believe in the guilt of others, or conceive the power of those evil passions that led to it. He was seldom or ever excited to anger, or made use of an unkind word to any individual, and could endure patiently every provocation. Long and daily had he held converse with death, as with a kind and familiar friend. He would often say to me, "I am quite prepared, whether it comes one day or another, or whenever the hour may arrive;" and at last he welcomed it with joy. Ninety-three years had nearly wearied him of life. Many of his contemporaries were gone before him, and those whom he left were sunk in age and infirmity. His remains were, by his own particular request, conveyed to the Abbey Church at Great Malvern, where they repose by those The bright light which had cheered and of his beloved partner in life, one monuilluminated so many around it, at last ex-ment serving for both, in that spot so dear pired, glimmering fainter and fainter, like to each. a dying lamp; till it became suddenly and From the Dublin University Magazine. GUIZOT. nius, to entitle them to take the helm of the state, or to give them the faintest hope of a majority in the country or the Chamber. The names of Thiers and Guizot stand, therefore, before the world, in juxta-position, as the political chiefs of the French Parliament. Having lately presented the readers of this journal with a rapid sketch of the career and character of M. Thiers, a similar attempt to portray his illustrious rival and opponent, will not, probably, be unacceptable. THE French elective Chamber differs from which are opposed to both; but none of the House of Commons, in being split into these have number, coherence, or, above a much greater number of parties, between all, parliamentary and administrative gewhom there exist political differences, which to themselves seem irreconcilable, although they are scarcely perceptible to a dispassionate looker-on, and especially to a foreigner. But genius is not as multifarious as party. This is fortunate, at least, for France. For if each of the numerous sections of the Chamber of Deputies was led by a statesman and orator of high pretensions, it is difficult to see how the country could go on at all, drawn in so many different directions, by equal antagonistic forces. Among the notabilities of the M. Guizot is now in his sixtieth year, French parliament, two are, by common having been born on the 4th October, 1787. consent, predominant-MM. Guizot and He is therefore just ten years senior to his Thiers. They are the Peel and Russell of rival and opponent, M. Thiers. His birthFrance. In the present position of the place was Nismes, where his father pracChambers, no administration could stand tised, with some reputation, at the bar. a chance of holding power a single month, The detestable laws which prevailed at that to which both these two deputies would be time in France, denied to his parents the opposed, nor could any administration be legality of marriage, and the legitimacy of formed out of their respective sections of offspring, in consequence of their religious the Chamber, of which they must not have faith. They were of a Protestant family. the lead. Sections of the house there are, In a few years afterwards, the Revolution |