English Lands Letters and Kings

serene, with a capacity for large and enduring friendships; yet with not much beguiling warmth in him; leavin

ther John, for some reasons of property-which he counted larger than the historian's large repute-changed his name to Home; so that there is not now in Scotland any representative of the immediate family of this Scotch metaphysician, who bears his name. I spoke of Shenstone and gave some specimens of his rhythmic and tender graces; but he never struck deeply into the poetic mine, whether of passion or of mystery. William Collins, howev

st survivor of all those whose lives and works we have thus far made subject of comment in the present volume. And the life and works

Georg

rge

astir in it, and within the limits of whose rule the American Revolution began, and ended in the establishment of a new nationality; whi

-but a grandson-of George II. His father, Prince Frederic, who lived to mature years, who wrote some poor poetry-who was generous, wayward, incompetent, always at issue with father and mother both-was a man n

lies

alive an

been hi

much r

been hi

uld have

e 'tis o

alive an

o more to

tte, who came over to him from Germany; and alone of all the quartette of Georges, made a devoted and constant husband as long as he reigned. But if he did not give his queen heart-aches in the usual Georgian fashion, I have no doubt that he gave her many a heart-ache of other sorts; for he was bigoted, unyielding, austere, and, like most men, selfish. He had his notions about meal-times and prayer-time, and getting-up time, and about what meals should be eaten and what not eaten; under this discipline wife and children grew up-until the boys made their escape, which they did actively. Yet this old gentlema

etter point-blank talk, fired with interrogation points and interjections. Mme. d'Arblay, whose acquaintance we made, makes us a party to som

, Strand-says of the king: "I can scarcely conceive a man of better disposition, of more exemplary virtues, or more truly

h the chilly corridors to morning prayers; with early dinners, no suppers, no gambling, no painted women coming between them. Yet the king, as he grew

d the brass; and what both cost. Like all such meddling, fussy masters of households, he believed himself always right; prayed himself into accessions of that belief: and on that belief went on pounding and pumelling the American branch of his fami

it. "What, what? not done? sums not done!" and then the old red ruler, and the hand put out, and a spat, and another spat. This was George III. "Those colonists no

and making cuts with it over seas. But the time came when he couldn't reach his rebels; and then the l

ioned; but he made what seemed an entire recovery from the early stroke of 1788; and was king, in all his headstrong and kingly ways, once more. It was in

arch again-this time with a surer grip; his speech, his sight, his hearing, all lost their fineness of quality and went down in the general wreck; in 1810, that mad-cap, that posture-master, that over-fine gentleman-so far as dress and carriage and polite ac

Orat

s Jame

own now in literary ways only by the fragment of British History which he wrote, but known in his own times as the most brilliant of debaters, most liberal in his politics, and always an ardent friend of America. This was Charles James Fox, who could trace back his descent-if he had chosen-through a Duchess of G

e occasion at least-of four times as much in a night. It is a wonder he ever became the man in Parliament that he was, after such dandling as befell him in the lap of luxury. Yet he was an accomplished Greek scholar; loving the finesse of the language, and loving more the exquisite tenderness of such lamentations as that of Alcestis; his sympathies all alive indeed, in youth and manhood, to humane instincts-the pains and pleasures of the race touching his heart-strings, as winds touch an Eolian harp. Study of exact sciences put him to sleep; he loved the game of Probabilities better than the certainties of mathematics-gambling away great estates, and p

tic sympathies, that warmed him into outbursts of generous passion, his fearlessness, his bearding of the king, his earnestness whenever afoot, his very shortcomings too, and the crowding disabilities that grew out of his trust-his simplicities-his lack of forethought, his want of moneyed prudence, his free-handedness, his little, unfailing, every-day kindnesses-these all backed his speeches and put a tender under-tone, and a glow, and a dr

iam

holarship-within a somewhat limited range-and an insatiate ambition. He was tall, spare, pale-faced, haughty, with a contempt for sentiment, and a contempt for money; and of intellect-all compact. At an age when many are still

ring as he could accomplish, without any surrender, or mal-presentment of the leading thoughts. Nor do I know any class-room exercise, nowadays, which would so test and amplify a young student's vocabulary, or teach him better the easy and forcible use of his own language. But, to have its full disciplinary power,

or kindly interests. A nod of the obstinate old king would have counted for more than a tragedy of Irene. All his classicism was but a weapon to smite with, or from which to forge the links of those shining parentheses by which he strangled an opponent. Nothing beyond or below the cool, considerate humanities of the cultured, self-poised gentleman (unless we except some rare outbreak of petulance) belongs to this great orator, who could thrust one through with a rapier held by the best rules of fence; and who

r and Pl

rid

arrow, and afterward with his father, made a runaway match with a beautiful Miss Linley; and he continued doing runaway things all his life. A duel which his sharp marriage provoked, gave him material for his early play of The Rivals,-a play which has come to renewed popularity in our day, and country, under the pleasant

f her when he went to the clubs, or the green-room, or the tavern-as he did very often, and stayed very late. Indeed "staying late," was the ruin of him. But this language into which I have fallen-not without warrant-should not convey the idea that this man was a commonplace, dissolute spendthrift; far from it. His spendings were sublim

race, and her syren voice-seemed altogether a fit portion and adornment of the oriental profusion he always coveted and always owed for. His longings and ambitions were pitched upon a high key-a key to which his social aptitudes were charming

l the hands of Garrick had drawn out a great fortune, and from which Richard Sheridan was to draw, often-more than was fairly in it. Meantime he had inspired, and, in connection with his father-in-law

could any

t would not

nd so sof

ess it to

may wince and creditors too; but who shall gainsay or doubt the imperial genius who is winged with victory? Garrick, whose days of conquest are nearly over-is his friend; so is Burke, won by

under the indoctrination and the coaching of Burke, he made such appeal for the far-off, down-trodden princesses of India as electrified the nation. "Whatever the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the Senate, or the morality of the pulpit could furnish [in eloquence] had not been equal to it." This was the verdict of so good a judge as Burke. Yet, reading this speech-or so much of it as the records show-or those others which followed,[7] when the

and his flasks), passes away. It is a shock that does not rally his forces, but rather disperses them. He is lié in these times with the Pri

r of goo

a conte

ce, judge,

a cheerf

good hum

re deep t

er drain

the hate

bed when he

ends.[8] There was a great rally of coronets at his funeral, and a pompous procession of those who went to bury him at Westminster. You will f

y Chat

tte

their court to Dr. Johnson; but we have our eye specially upon a pale, handsome-faced, long-haired lad, not beyond the schooling age, who knows nothing of courts or clubs, who has stolen away from the thraldom of a small attorney's office in Bristol, in the West of England, to come up to London and face t

ine; shall engage to write a History of England, or other pieces, which will more than double that

few weeks late

ce pretty deeply into the bookselling branches. I shall have lodging and boarding, genteel and elegant, gratis. I shall have likewise no inconsiderable premium. I will send you two silks this summer, and expect, in answer t

ns of so many-what silks-what houses-what gold-what fame! Yet this stripling not yet eighteen could write. I wi

loweret blushe

sprinkled with

ntles is the

cowslip bende

eafed, into h

do blow, to whistl

mes and brings

lkin sheenet

stake minstrels

d the door-pos

the grass; y

, there lacketh so

rent order, this-from

unto my

briny tea

more at

unning r

ve is

his de

r the wi

acorn cu

hearte's

ll its goo

ight or fe

ve is

his de

the will

ch I set before you-so gleeful, with promise of silks and of brilliant essays, was written on the last day of the month of May, 1770; and on the 24th of August-n

adventurer in London; fewer yet, knew what poems-brimmin

said, had an air of great antiquity. And Horace Walpole being also present-he never omitted being present at a Royal Society dinner, when it was possible for him to go-overhearing the talk and the name, said (we may fancy), "Bless me, young Chatterton, to be sure!-I had some correspondence with the young man; nice poems-but apocryph

in the brain of this wonderful boy. The ancient Dictionaries and old copies of Chaucer supplied the language; the antique parchments gave local allusions and the nomenclature; and for inspiration and motive-the winds that blew from over Chepstow and Tintern Abbey, and Caerleon, and whistled round the buttresses of St. Mary's Redcliffe-supplied more than enough. So began the modern antique poems of Thomas Rowley; not a new device in the literary world; for Macpherson, whom we shall encounter presently, only a few years before had launched some of the "Ossian" poems, to the great wonderment and p

London; he will win his way; he will smite the Philistines hip and thigh. And-as I have told you-he did go; did work; did struggle. But it is a great self-seeking world he has to face, full throughout of thwarting circumstance. Yet courage and pride hold him up-hold him up for months against terrific odds; at least he will tell nothing of his griefs. Thus his last pennies, which shou

ve is

his de

r the wi

pride; and although Chatterton's range in all rhythmic art was far below that of Poe, and although he did not carry so bold and venturous a step as the American into the region of diableries, he had perhaps more varied fancies and more homely tendernesses. The antique gloss which he put upon his work was unworthy his genius; helping no way sa

nce S

timen

y a few doors off; and Garrick was a guest at his table; so was David Hume, the historian; half through the dinner, the host told his footman to go over and ask after the sick man; and this is the report the footman gave to outsiders: "I went to the gentleman's lodgings, and the mistress opened the door. Says I-'How is Mr. Sterne to-day?' She told me to go up to the nurse; so I went, and

nce S

s drift about in books of miscellany which you are very likely to know and to admire; for some of them are surely of most exquisite quality

let me know that in about ten minutes he would be glad if I would step upstairs. 'I believe,' said the landlord, 'he is going

t you gentlemen of the army, Mr. Tr

; and when he is fighting for his king and for his own life, and for his hon

of thee, Trim!'

s marches-detached here-countermanded there; benumbed in his joints;-perhaps without straw in his tent to kneel on, he must say his prayers how and when he can.' 'I believe', said I, for I was piqued, q

is not. At the great and general review of us all, Corporal, at the day of judgment (and not till then) it will

e shall,'

my uncle Toby, 'and I will

satin small-clothes, has vile and grovelling tastes that overflow in double-meanings of lewdness: even Goldsmith, who was not squeamish, calls him "the blackguard parson." It is not probable that Goldsmith ever encountered him; nor did Dr. Johnson. Beauclerk, Garrick, and Walpole would have been more in his line; for he loved the glint, and the capital letters, and the showy tag-rags of fashion. And on the strength of his literary reputation, which had sudden and brilliant burst, and of his good family-since a not far-off ancestor had been Archbishop of York-he conquered and enjoyed, for his little day, all that London fashion had to offe

as away; and I am very sure they missed him a good deal, whenever he was-nominally-there: painting, fiddling, shooting, and dining-out, took very much of his parochial time; and Tristram Shandy and its success, literary and pecuniary, introduced him to a career in London, a

and conspicuously by his stealings; he stole from Rabelais; he stole from Shakespeare; he stole from Fuller;[15] he stole from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy; not a stealing of ideas only, but of words and sentences and half-pages together, without a sign of obligation; and yet he did so wrap about these thefts with the strings and lappets of his own abound

gars crowd; who can put no such pathos into his cumbrous sentences indeed; but the presence of that old, blind, petulant woman in his house-who had waited on his lost wife-is itself a bit of pathos that I think will outlast the story of Maria-and that should do so forty times over. I wish I could blot out the silk stockings, the rustling

ther was the Duchess of Portsmouth; and the Lord Holland so well known for his entertainments at Hol

question of making peace with Napoleon-just the

unger son of the Earl of Chatham. He e

ce in the speech, where he deprecates new alliance betwe

?vo l?ta n

then pounding on the table,

roba

sine dol

cross his lips-to recover breath only. Certainly he was grandly clear of anything like a

article in Edinburgh

phy, interesting but not authoritative. Mrs. Oliphant's sketch

achment trial in Westminster Hall, in June, 1788. Others followed of less interest toward the close of the trial in 1794. The best reports are o

er Papers (1884), chap. x. It is embodied in what purports to be a literal transcript of

umphry Ward

hitt's edition, "Poems supposed to have been w

Goldsmith, vol

upon a thief of archaisms, whose robberies and arr

him high among the pioneers of the "New Romantic" movement in Engl

. Life, by H. D. Traill; a fu

entlemanly instincts at bottom; and under the scori? of a

t acknowledgment, from one of Richard Bentley's sermons, preached at Cambridge against Popery, on November 5th-shortly after the fi