From the Spectator. progress it might be doubted whether oriental polygamy or savageism itself were not a preferable state to that where a large portion of society seems offered up as victims to the rest. This topic is handled by the author with kindliness and sense, and illustrated by Elverton's story, to which we have already alluded. There are in the essays upon it a good many apt and some useful suggestions; but the author hardly goes to the root of the matter-partly, perhaps, because the subject scarcely admits of it in a book that aims at being popular and elegant; partly, we think, because the writer, with all his keenness, his scholarship, his reflective powers, and his knowledge of life, has hardly acumen to pierce to the marrow of complicated questions, or comprehensiveness to seize a whole, although his training and his style make an appearance of approaching this highest reach of philosophy.

tion to err.

One of the papers is on the art of rising. It is set in a sort of story that facilitates the introduction of subordinate matters, as is this writer's wont, and contains a good many remarks which, like the advice in Mr. Taylor's Statesman, hang between pure worldliness and worldly philosophy. This is

*

*

I do not know a meaner and sadder portion of a man's existence, or one more likely to be full of impatient sorrow, than that which he spends in waiting at the offices of lawyers.

*

No man can imagine, not Swift himself, things more shameful, absurd, and grotesque, than the things which do take place daily in the law. Satire becomes merely narrative. A modern novelist depicts a man ruined by a legacy of a thousand pounds, and sleeping under a four-legged table because it reminded him of the days when he used to sleep in a four-post bed. This last touch about the bed is humorous, but the substance of the story is dry narrative only.

From the Examiner.

the truth that is in me. And I wish that many chief-justiceships for me. I have only pretended to amongst us Protestants, who would, I doubt not, wel- be this slave in order that you should not say that I come the duty, could, without pledging ourselves to am an untried and unpractical man-that I do not all manner of doctrines, but merely by a genial use of understand your mysteries." those common relations of life which bring us in daily contact with the poor, fulfil much of what is genuinely good in the functions of a confessor, and thus become brothers of mercy and brothers of charity to the poor. Meanwhile, it is past melancholy, and verges on despair, to reflect what is going on amongst ministers of religion, who are often but too intent upon the fopperies of religion to have heart and time for the substantial work intrusted to them-immersed in heartbreaking trash from which no sect is free; for here are fopperies of discipline, there fopperies of doctrine (still more dangerous as it seems to me). And yet there are these words resounding in their ears, "Pure religion and undefiled is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world." And the word " world," as Coleridge has well explained, is this order of things, MR. THACKERAY'S SECOND LECTURE. the order of things you are in. Clerical niceness and In this instance, as in that of the first lecture, we over-sanctity, for instance, and making more and longer sermons than there is any occasion for, and in- select from the reports of the morning papers that sisting upon needless points of doctrine, and making which appears to be most characteristic of the acChristianity a stumbling-block to many-that, excel-tual expressions of the lecturer. The manner of lent clergymen, (for there are numbers who deserve | Mr. Thackeray's delivery was equally admirable the name,) that is your world, there lies your tempta- as on the first occasion, and he did greater justice to it by making himself perfectly audible throughout, and in all parts of the room. Any estimate of the matter of the discourse must of course be subject to the very various tastes which men of independent judgment will apply for themselves to the questions brought under discussion; but that Mr. Thackeray's views are original, and stated in a highly interesting way, few will be disposed to doubt. That he violently underrated Congreve, and as violently overrated Addison, we must for ourselves be permitted to say-protesting at the same time against the doctrine, urged in defence of Addison's coldness to his contemporaries, that a writer is justified first in setting up for his own use a certain high estimate of his own genius, and next in supposing the rest of the genius of his time to be so far beneath those imaginary and self-satisfactory altitudes as to hold him excused from any fair or kindly recognition of it. We do not think that really great writers are apt to feel in this way; and we are sure at any rate that as little by Addison's own extraordinary greatness, as by the extraordinary minuteness of Pope and others of his contemporaries, may the plea be considered a good one in the particular case. Mr. Thackeray closed his account of Congreve with the remark that there was not a lovable or natural passage in his writings, and that a single flash of Swift's genius, a piece of Steele's tender wit, or a beam of the mild radiance of Addison, was worth them all. Yet for one of the most natural and charming papers in the Tatler we are indebted to Congreve; and it contains the sentence which has been so often quoted and justly praised as a very quintessence of feeling and tenderness-where he says of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings that "to love her was a liberal edu

one.

Get, if you can, into one or other of the main grooves of human affairs. It is all the difference of going by railway, and walking over a ploughed field, whether you adopt common courses, or set up one for yourself. You will see, if your times are anything like ours, most inferior persons highly placed in the army, in the church, in office, at the bar. They have somehow got upon the line, and have moved on well with very little original motive power of their own. Do not let this make you talk as if merit were utterly neglected in these or any professions: only that getting well into the groove will frequently do instead of any great

excellence.

There is no getting well into these grooves, we fancy, without great luck or "good connexions;" but this perhaps the author may intend to intimate in another place, where he talks of friends, all the while meaning "connexions."

As valuable a paper as any of the miscellaneous essays is that on law. Specific modes of remedy are not there, but the author broadly and boldly indicates the direction in which they may be found; and points out the evils with a calm but unsparing finger.

Law, for example, what a loss is there-of time, of heart, of love, of leisure! There are good men whose minds are set upon improving the law; but I doubt whether any of them are prepared to go far enough. Here again we must hope most from general improvement of the people. Perhaps, though, some one great genius will do something for us. I have often fancied that a man might play the part of Brutus in the law. He might simulate madness in order to insure freedom. He might make himself a great lawyer, rise to eminence in the profession, and then turn round and say, "I am not going to enjoy this high seat and dignity; but intend henceforward to be an advocate for the people of this country against the myriad oppressions and vexations of the law. No chancellorships or

cation."

Still greater numbers of the world of literature and fashion crowded to Mr. Thackeray's second lecture on Thursday. The subjects chosen were Congreve and Addison. The former was a character almost made for the pencil of the author of " Vanity Fair." Congreve was a disciple of foppery and fun, dissipation and art, a fine gentleman, with fine parts; and, to crown all, passing worthless. The opening was quite in the old characteristic style. We were reminded how, just before the Reform Bill, the young gentle

From the Spectator.

TORY OF THE PEACE.*

He

men of the "Union," at Cambridge, were of opinion | nightingales. These nightingales were intended to that great noblemen who owned boroughs always had warble in the ear of Lord Warwick's mamma. their eye on the club as a place to get politicians from; married the countess, and died in Holland House how Jones, of John's, &c., supported our sacred in- three years after that splendid but uncomfortable stitutions, or denounced priestcraft, with that idea union. The lecturer next characterized Addison as a always present to them. This introduced the mention" man's man," and as one of the most determined of the large crop of places given to literary men in "club men" of his day. Women he judged of superAddison and Congreve's time; how a neat copy of ficially, and knew little of them. One only he knew Latin verses, or a happy "ode" on a public event, well, and her he did not think very much of. The made the young collegian's fortune. Congreve was concluding part of the lecture dealt more particularly then formally introduced as an example of extreme with the great man's literary character. He deliterary prosperity; how everything went well with scribed him as the gentlest of satirists; one who him; how he was beau, wit, and lover-ambrosial, pointed out to you in a delightful manner the foibles irresistible, magnificent. He was described as a de- of your neighbor, and, turning his head over his lightful rascal; as a gay disciple of the "eat-and-shoulder, whispered to him good. At this point of drink-for-tomorrow-we-die" school. As for his com- the disquisition Mr. Thackeray read very effectively edy, that Mr. Thackeray characterized as essentially some choice specimens of the Addisonian humor, and pagan or heathen. He illustrated the effect produced concluded in a high and serious strain, after reading by an examination of it, now-a-days, by a singularly one of his most famous poems, by a warm description happy metaphor-it was like visiting Pompeii, and of his susceptibility to religious impressions. Nothing seeing Sallust's house, there, in the ruins. The cake could have been more satisfactory altogether than the and wine in the jars. The jester's laughing skull-reception of the lecture by the crowded audience, and the breast of a dancing girl. The charred banquet indeed it was, perhaps even more than the last one, a table. He pointed out with a sad ridicule its immor- delightful specimen of the author's power. ality-the father treated as a dotard-the husband as a victim. He exposed in a style at once mournful and quizzical the hollowness of a gayety that had no love in it, and produced the happiest effect by interspers- MISS MARTINEAU'S INTRODuction to the HISing earnest reprobation of the system with laughter at what was superficially absurd in it; for instance, when making out our comic writer something very like a scoundrel, he jested at his conceit, and did not even spare his wig. Hence this part of his discourse was like a sermon where you saw the sinner-not only as sinner but as the individual of every-day life. And you were reminded at last that Congreve left his money, not to Mrs. Bracegirdle, who did want it, but to the great lady who did not want it at all. Addison is obviously one of Mr. Thackeray's greatest favorites. Compared with recent historical productions, He sketched his life throughout, dwelling on its nota- where even secondary events are treated in ample ble incidents with a pleasant commentary, the charm detail, Miss Martineau's work is rather a commentof which consisted in this-that it was always social ary than a history. Events are narrated, but for the and familiar, treating Addison as Addison himself most part rapidly and succinctly; sometimes they treats Sir Roger de Coverley, with a philosophical familiarity. He was noways bigoted in doing this are "doubled up." In all cases Miss Martineau task of biography, for he took to pieces the famous aims at extracting their essential qualities, rather figure of the angel in his "Campaign," and plainly than entering into their minutiæ; so that it is as treated the poem as containing a great deal of mere much her opinion of the period as the period itself stuff. Apropos of the said angel, he showed that it which is presented to the reader. This, indeed, is was the foundation of the writer's fortune, and got really the case in all histories; they exhibit not the him his first great step in the world. "Ah!" ex- things themselves, but the historian's idea of them; claimed he playfully at this point, "these sort of the predominance of fact over commentary being angels' visits are few and far between to men of let-merely a difference in composition. As much of ters. It is not often that angels' wings flutter at judgment may be insinuated in a narrative as is dissecond-floor windows." Addison, he said, was un-played in an open discussion, and perhaps more doubtedly one of the greatest geniuses, and this made it natural that he should not have been much given to

THIS volume is nominally an introduction to the History of the Peace, which was commenced by Mr. Charles Knight and completed by Miss Martineau. It is in fact a summary of our history from 1800 to 1815, prefaced by a rapid introduction to the latter history of the eighteenth century, from the outbreak of the French revolution to the union with Ireland, Pitt's retirement, and Addington's accession.

mischievously, the reader being less upon his guard. Be it story, be it opinion, this Introduction is an praising too much. He seldom praised any but the interesting and a meritorious work. The military very highest men, but he bowed down with delight to and political events have an inherent interest that the imperial genius of Milton. However, Mr. Thackeray did not seem to think that he liked to praise well condensed them into a moderate compass, so seems never to satiate; and Miss Martineau has young Mr. Pope, the great satirist, very much. He would not have dispraised him, perhaps, but-if Mr. that the reader can grasp the whole without weariAddison's men had done so, he did n't think Mr. Ad-ness or strain. In warlike affairs, she seems to dison would have taken his pipe out of his mouth to have been content with what may be called popular tell them to stop. Addison was indubitably a good- authorities; the Wellington Despatches being about hearted, kind man, a benevolent, pure-minded man the limit of her recondite researches. In civil towards his fellow-creatures; if he had no very start-matters, she has very closely read the valuable ling virtues, he surely had no vices-scarcely a fault, except one which he was known to be rather addicted to-his fondness for wine. Without this he would have been, the lecturer announced, (very characteristically,) a more perfect man-and without it we should not have loved him so much." There was, we observed, a sort of particular expectancy, as Mr. Thackeray came to the part where he spoke of Addison's marriage. He narrated agreeably how he wrote to young Lord Warwick, describing the warbling of the

66

memoirs that have been published within these last ten or twelve years-the Malmesbury Papers, the Lives of Eldon, Sidmouth, and Plumer Ward, the Nelson Correspondence, Brougham's Historical Characters, and other similar productions; and she has extracted their most dramatic points and their

* Introduction to the History of the Peace, from 1800 to 1815. By Harriet Martineau. Published by Charles Knight.

MISS MARTINEAU'S INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY OF THE PEACE. 137

most conclusive information. Whether the con- The fertile parts of Limerick, Cork, and Kerry, and clusions may always be deemed correct, will in a elsewhere, were separated by vast wildernesses, where measure depend upon the preconceptions of the no roads existed, and scarcely here and there a path. reader. Critically speaking, she has extracted the Swarms of people lived in these wilds, like rabbits in very pith of her authorities, according to her view; a warren. Not a plough or a cart was to be seen for and this view is truer than many might expect. of the inhabitants could scarcely have been discerned many miles together; and the weed-grown mud hovels Miss Martineau has read the past with the lights of the present; allowing for the circumstances of by the stranger, though a hundred might be within reach of his eye. the time as motives of action in individuals, form- The soldiery and police could make no way; and they But few strangers ventured there. ing a philosophical estimate of the times them-knew that every man's mind and hand were against selves, and correcting or modifying her judgment them. Such districts were always the hiding-places by facts which have since seen the light, or by the of smugglers, thieves, and men in danger from socisoftened opinion of the present day. She is liberal ety; and now, those who had outlawed themselves by in her opinions; but it is not old whig liberalism, their share in the rebellion of 1798 were harbored or the modern cant of liberalism, but a philosophical among the wilds. There was little commerce between liberalism, even if it be a philosophy of her own. the towns and the rural districts, to bind them to Napoleon is judged sternly, but truly; Pitt with gether, and create mutual interests. The only produce kindliness and allowance; the amplest justice is of county Kerry was butter; and that was carried done to Wellington; and while doubts are thrown to Cork on horseback. The proportion of inhabitants upon the necessity of the early revolutionary wars, employed upon the land was more than double that so it is admitted that the Napoleonic wars could not from the rest of the world was much greater; so that employed in England; while the isolation of the class have been avoided, owing to the character of the French ruler. To pronounce too harsh a judgment tude, were irremovable; and the temptation to rule wrong ideas, once introduced among the rural multion the shallow, narrow-minded, but obstinate men them as slaves or banditti was as strong to the landwho ruled this country from the death of Fox and owners and the government, as it was to hot-blooded the expulsion of "All the Talents" till the con- and sanguine patriots to make them tools. Nothing clusion of the period of which the historian treats, had been done to remove from the minds of this poris almost impossible. We think Miss Martineau tion of the population the discontents which had exunderrates the abilities of George the Third; at ploded in rebellion two years before; and they did least she does not appreciate his thorough mastery not know that they had anything to do with England of representative government as he understood it, his but to hate her. knowledge of current public opinion, and the manner in which he contrived through these means to have his own way, in spite of the great whig families at one time, of Pitt, Canning, and Dundas, at another, and of All the Talents" on a third occasion. She also unduly depreciates Castlereagh. An orator or philosophical statesman he certainly was not but he was a man of clear views and of great firm-jects. ness; he could impress his views upon the House of Commons in a roundabout way, distinctly if not effectively; and he must have had considerable powers of managing a public assembly, otherwise he could not have led the House of Commons so long. To reëcho, as Miss Martineau does in this instance, the old whig talk of thirty years ago, is to lower the whigs themselves: if Castlereagh was so very poor a creature, what must be thought of the opponents, who never could even shake him in his seat?

As a contrast to this picture the battle of Waterloo may be taken. There is of course nothing new in the facts, nay, there are no particular facts, and objections might be made to the perfect accuracy of the representation; but it may be instanced as a specimen of Miss Martineau's power of drawing out the essential elements of her military sub

There

from Quatre Bras; and, by the afternoon of the 17th,
Blücher's retreat compelled Wellington to retire
he and his army had fallen back to Waterloo.
the great captain drew out his forces, across two high
roads, with a ravine at his right extremity, and a
height above a hamlet as his extreme post on the left,
whence he could communicate with Blücher, who had
promised to come to his aid if he should be attacked.
In front of the right centre was a farm-house; in
front of the left centre was another. All the night of
the 17th, the French were taking up their position on
a range of heights in front.

Traces of a similar feeling are shown upon the Irish rebellion in connection with the American French made the attack. All day, they strove for the At ten o'clock on the morning of the 18th, the war, though rather affecting the scale of the nar-farm-house in front of the British right centre; and rative than the conclusion. As much space is given to one individual case of oppression as to the whole Russian campaign.

Military and civil affairs or political economy are not the only topics of Miss Martineau. She opens her work with a large and temperate view of the old principle of the balance of power, and traces the successes of the revolution to the manner in which statesmen had overlooked the people, and the incapacity even of the best and greatest of them to deal with the new power as suddenly as it rose: indeed, it may be doubted whether it was dealt with really and truly in this country till Peel's last administration, while abroad it has never been dealt with at all. The social condition of the nation, and the spirit of the middle classes and the populace, are not overlooked, if the matters connected with them are somewhat exaggerated. Neither is the outward condition of the country forgotten. This was Ireland at the beginning of the century.

all day it was held against them.
other farm-house-the German Legion within it hav-
They won the
ing expended their ammunition, and being, at the
moment, cut off from supply. A heavy cannonading
along the whole line accompanied and sustained these
assaults; and, during the whole day, the British in
their lines sustained the fierce charges, in constant
succession, now of cavalry, now of infantry, now of
cavalry and infantry together. There is nothing in
the history of battles more sublime than the general-
ship which could order, and the patient valor that
could sustain, such a method of fighting as this. It
foiled Napoleon in his strongest point.
always hitherto broken through the enemy's line, by
if he could find it); but here he tried after it the
bringing his force to bear upon one part (a weak one,
whole day without succeeding. He had now "to
measure himself with this Wellington ;" and he had
met his match. He gathered his artillery en masse,
and made dreadful havoc on certain points;-the
vacant space was instantly filled up again. He ar-

He had

ranged his bodies of cavalry so as to support each other, and sent them to make desperate efforts to pierce the British line of infantry. In a moment, the line became squares, and the ground was maintained. At six in the evening not a point was gained by the French. Any advantage which had been yielded in the shock of a moment, had been immediately resumed. In the quiet words of Wellington, "these attacks were uniformly unsuccessful." It was impossible, after these eight hours of slaughter, to say where the victory would rest. The most doubtful moment for the allies was soon after this-about seven o'clock. By this time Bülow's corps had come up; and Blücher himself was on the heights on the British left, ready to take charge of the French right. Napoleon was now about to make a final desperate effort to rout the allies, by an attack of a vast force upon the British left centre. Wellington saw it, and ordered every disposable man to the spot. Presently, the continued roar of cannon and musketry was "the most dinning" ever heard by those on the field. Presently again there was a sudden, complete, brief pause; and then again a tremendous outburst of mingled sounds. The French had been checked, cast in heaps of dead and wounded; the remainder turned, fled, and were in an instant pursued by the whole British line. When Napoleon saw that the British had broken in upon his Old Guard, he turned pale as death, and said, in a tone of dismay, "They are all mixed!" Wellington's word to his Guards in a ditch, "Up, Guards, and at them!" had been potent. They were all mixed, as the British bore down the best reserve and last hope of Napoleon.

Every man, woman, and child who came near him was heroic; and in himself were mingled emotions which rarely meet in the same soul. Few would have the courage to entertain at once, as he did, guilt and piety, remorse and confidence, paroxysms of weakness and inspirations of strength. Except as his native vigor wrought as discipline, he was undisciplined. He was as vehement in his modes of expression as in his feelings; and he appears to have made no effort whatever to preserve his domestic virtue and withstand the guilty passion which poisoned his life and that of his innocent wife, and which mingles pity and disgust with the admiration and gratitude of an idolizing nation. His piety was not only warm, but most presumptuous in the midst of his helpless guilt. He prayed glowingly and confidently; but then, it was not like the prayer of any one else. It was petition as to a Superior Power enlisted against the French, which, on such an occasion, would not deal with him about Lady Hamilton. This view, unconsciously held, was no doubt natural, for it was that of the people generally. No one wanted to deal with him, as others are dealt with by society, for his domestic guilt, while he was to the popular eye like an angel with a flaming sword, God-sent to deliver the country. To the people, he was now the champion and the sailor; and he was adored as he, in that view, deserved to be. The disclosures of after years, and the ethical judgment which, sooner or later, follows upon a passionate idolatry, have made the name and image of Nelson now very different from what they were on the day of his funeral; but still he is truly regarded as the greatest of naval captains; as worthy of all

Many passages of interest on a variety of sub- honor for bravery, humanity, professional disinterjects crowd upon us. Perhaps Miss Martineau's estedness, and devoted zeal, and as commanding even sketches of character in explanation of conduct best ties on behalf of his country and his comrades. His a deeper admiration by the delicacy of his sensibilidisplay her ability and her mode of treatment. The passions and weaknesses were so clearly the misery pictures of Pitt, the King, and Addington, in refer- of his life, that to point them out as being so is perence to Pitt's resignation of office and Addington's haps a sufficient reprobation. In the ecstasy of their accession, exhibit great skill and judgment. Upon gratitude the nation mourned that they could do noththe whole, however, her account of Nelson is the ing but heap honors on the memory of their hero, and best instance of Miss Martineau's merit as a portrait-on all whom he had left to whom they could do honor painter. It contains in the smallest compass the completest example of the various traits of her composition, especially her criticism and her kindliness of mind.

His brother without shaming him and themselves. was made an earl, with an income of 60001. a year; his sisters were presented with 10,0907. each; and 100,000l. were voted for the purchase of an estate. All this would not have satisfied him; for in the last paper he wrote, on the day of his death, the paper which made the nation his executor, he thrust his relations into a sort of postscript. It was Emma Hamilton whom he bequeathed to the nation's care, with a curious mingling of claims of her own public services, and of her being his Emma. The one claim neutralized the other. If it was the principle and method of society in England to reward public service wherever found, without a glance at private moral deserts, Lady Hamilton might and would have been pensioned and raised far above the destitution in which she died abroad. But such is not, and was even less at that time, the view of English society; and Lady Hamilton could expect nothing from the nation while she was commended to them as Nelson's legacy; known, as she was, to have estranged him from a wife to whose goodness he bore the most emphatic testimony. It is a relief to turn from the spectacle of Nelson writing that paper in his cabin to that of his funeral in St. Paul's, when the sailors seized his flag as it was about to be lowered into his grave, and rent it in pieces, that each might wear a fragment next his heart. The leaden coffin in which he was brought

It was while Mr. Pitt was in the midst of the struggle of feeling which has been described as succeeding the news of the capitulation of Ulm-only on the Thursday after that Sunday when he carried the Dutch newspaper to his friend in Spring Gardens that the tidings of the battle of Trafalgar reached him. He was called up in the night to receive them, in the form of a packet of despatches from Admiral Collingwood. He said afterwards, that, for once in his life, he could not sleep after the interruption. Many times, in his career as minister, he had been called up in the night to receive news, good or bad; and he had always before been able to lay down his head and sleep immediately; but on this occasion he was so restless that he rose at three o'clock. The naval power of France and Spain was destroyed. We had nothing more to fear at sea; that part of our warfare might be considered closed; but Nelson was gone; and no one from Pitt down to the humblest man born on British ground knew whether most to rejoice or to mourn. Their peculiar hero was lost, the greatest naval commander that the world had produced; and nothing could be a compensation for his loss. Peculiar indeed Nelson was; peculiarly Brit-home was cut up and spread abroad in like manner. ish among other things While full fraught with the genius which belongs to no country, he had the qualities, almost in excess, which Britons are apt to call British. His whole frame of body and mind seems to have overflowed with an electric sensibility, by which his own life was made one series of emotions, and his own being seemed to communicate itself to others.

Statues and other monuments were voted in profusion; and for many years afterwards, children by the firesides of England looked up when their ear was struck by the tone in which Nelson's name was spoken, and wondered at the tears which they saw in their parents' eyes. Never was man more mourned by a nation.