others?" Bolingbroke, it is certain, as it had before rallied round him. was fully convinced that the renuncia- And of this he seems to have been tion was worth no more than the fully aware. For many years the paper on which it was written, and de- | favourite hope of his heart was that he manded it only for the purpose of might ascend the throne of his grandblinding the English Parliament and father; but he seems never to have people. thought it possible that he could reign at once in the country of his adoption and in the country of his birth.

Yet, though it was at one time probable that the posterity of the Duke of Burgundy would become extinct, and though it is almost certain that, if the posterity of the Duke of Burgundy had become extinct, Philip would have successfully preferred his claim to the crown of France, we still defend the principle of the Treaty of Utrecht. In the first place, Charles had, soon after the battle of Villa-Viciosa, inherited, by the death of his elder brother, all the dominions of the House of Austria. Surely, if to these dominions he had added the whole monarchy of Spain, the balance of power would have been seriously endangered. The union of the Austrian dominions and Spain would not, it is true, have been so alarming an event as the union of France and Spain. But Charles was actually Emperor. Philip was not, and never might be, King of France. The certainty of the less evil might well be set against the chance of the greater evil.

But, in fact, we do not believe that Spain would long have remained under the government either of an Emperor or of a King of France. The character of the Spanish people was a better security to the nations of Europe than any will, any instrument of renunciation, or any treaty. The same energy which the people of Castile had put forth when Madrid was occupied by the Allied armies, they would have again put forth as soon as it appeared that their country was about to become a French province. Though they were no longer masters abroad, they were by no means disposed to see foreigners set over them at home. If Philip had attempted to govern Spain by mandates from Versailles, a second Grand Alliance would easily have effected what the first had failed to accomplish. The Spanish nation would have rallied against him as zealously

These were the dangers of the peace; and they seem to us to be of no very formidable kind. Against these dangers are to be set off the evils of war and the risk of failure. The evils of the war, the waste of life, the suspension of trade, the expenditure of wealth, the accumulation of debt, require no illustration. The chances of failure it is difficult at this distance of time to calculate with accuracy. But we think that an estimate approximating to the truth may, without much difficulty, be formed.

The Allies had been victorious in Germany, Italy, and Flanders. It was by no means improbable that they might fight their way into the very heart of France. But at no time since the commencement of the war had their prospects been so dark in that country which was the very object of the struggle. In Spain they held only a few square leagues. The temper of the great majority of the nation was decidedly hostile to them. If they had persisted, if they had obtained success equal to their highest expectations, if they had gained a series of victories as splendid as those of Blenheim and Ramilies, if Paris had fallen, if Lewis had been a prisoner, we still doubt whether they would have accomplished their object. They would still have had to carry on interminable hostilities against the whole population of a country which affords peculiar facilities to irregular warfare, and in which invading armies suffer more from famine than from the sword.

We are, therefore, for the peace of Utrecht. We are indeed no admirers of the statesmen who concluded that peace. Harley, we believe, was a solemn trifler, St. John a brilliant knave. The great body of their followers consisted of the country clergy and the country gentry; two classes of men

who were then inferior in intelligence | Lord Dover performed his part dilito decent shopkeepers or farmers of gently, judiciously, and without the our time. Parson Barnabas, Parson slightest ostentation. He had two Trulliber, Sir Wilful Witwould, Sir merits which are rarely found together Francis Wronghead, Squire Western, in a commentator. He was content to Squire Sullen, such were the people be merely a commentator, to keep in who composed the main strength of the background, and to leave the forethe Tory party during the sixty years ground to the author whom he had which followed the Revolution. It is undertaken to illustrate. Yet, though true that the means by which the willing to be an attendant, he was by Tories came into power in 1710 were no means a slave; nor did he consider most disreputable. It is true that the it as part of his duty to see no faults manner in which they used their power in the writer to whom he faithfully was often unjust and cruel. It is true and assiduously rendered the humblest that, in order to bring about their literary offices. favourite project of peace, they resorted The faults of Horace Walpole's head to slander and deception, without the and heart are indeed sufficiently glarslightest scruple. It is true that they ing. His writings, it is true, rank as passed off on the British nation a re-high among the delicacies of intellecnunciation which they knew to be in- tual epicures as the Strasburg pies valid. It is true that they gave up the among the dishes described in the Catalans to the vengeance of Philip, in Almanach des Gourmands. But as the a manner inconsistent with humanity pâté-de-foie-gras owes its excellence to and national honour. But on the great the diseases of the wretched animal question of Peace or War, we cannot which furnishes it, and would be good but think that, though their motives for nothing if it were not made of may have been selfish and malevolent, livers preternaturally swollen, so none their decision was beneficial to the but an unhealthy and disorganised mind could have produced such literary luxuries as the works of Walpole. He was,

state.

But we have already exceeded our limits. It remains only for us to bid Lord Mahon heartily farewell, and to assure him that, whatever dislike we may feel for his political opinions, we shall always meet him with pleasure on the neutral ground of literature.

unless we have formed a very erroneous judgment of his character, the most eccentric, the most artificial, the most fastidious, the most capricious of men. His mind was a

bundle of inconsistent whims and affectations. His features were covered by mask within mask. When the outer disguise of obvious affectation was removed, you were still as far as ever from seeing the real man. He played innumerable parts, and over-acted them all. When he talked misanthropy, he out-Timoned Timon. When he talked philanthropy, he left Howard at an immeasurable distance. He scoffed at courts, and kept a chronicle of their most trifling scandal; at society, and was blown about by its slightest veerings of opinion; at literary fame, and left fair copies of his private letters, with copious notes, to be published after his decease; at rank, and never for a moment forgot that he was an Honourable; at the practice of entail, and tasked the ingenuity of conveyancers

to tie up his villa in the strictest settle- | glass, and from setting up memorials

ment.

The conformation of his mind was such that whatever was little seemed to him great, and whatever was great seemed to him little. Serious business was a trifle to him, and trifles were his serious business. To chat with blue stockings, to write little copies of complimentary verses on little occasions, to superintend a private press, to preserve from natural decay the perishable topics of Ranelagh and White's, to record divorces and bets, Miss Chudleigh's absurdities and George Selwyn's good sayings, to decorate a grotesque house with pie-crust battlements, to procure rare engravings and antique chimneyboards, to match odd gauntlets, to lay out a maze of walks within five acres of ground, these were the grave employments of his long life. From these he turned to politics as to an amusement. After the labours of the printshop and the auction-room, he unbent his mind in the House of Commons. And, having indulged in the recreation of making laws and voting millions, he returned to more important pursuits, to researches after Queen Mary's comb, Wolsey's red hat, the pipe which Van Tromp smoked during his last sea-fight, and the spur which King William struck into the flank of Sorrel.

of departed cats and dogs. While he was fetching and carrying the gossip of Kensington Palace and Carlton House, he fancied that he was engaged in politics, and when he recorded that gossip, he fancied that he was writing history.

He

He was, as he has himself told us, fond of faction as an amusement. loved mischief: but he loved quiet; and he was constantly on the watch for opportunities of gratifying both his tastes at once. He sometimes contrived, without showing himself, to disturb the course of ministerial negotiations, and to spread confusion through the political circles. He does not himself pretend that, on these occasions, he was actuated by public spirit; nor does he appear to have had any private advantage in view. He thought it a good practical joke to set public men together by the ears; and he enjoyed their perplexities, their accusations, and their recriminations, as a malicious boy enjoys the embarrassment of a misdirected traveller.

About politics, in the high sense of the word, he knew nothing, and cared nothing. He called himself a Whig. His father's son could scarcely assume any other name. It pleased him also to affect a foolish dislike of kings as kings, and a foolish love and admi

In every thing in which Walpole busied himself, in the fine arts, in lite-ration of rebels as rebels; and perhaps, rature, in public affairs, he was drawn while kings were not in danger, and by some strange attraction from the while rebels were not in being, he really great to the little, and from the useful believed that he held the doctrines to the odd. The politics in which he which he professed. To go no further took the keenest interests, were politics than the letters now before us, he is scarcely deserving of the name. The perpetually boasting to his friend Mann growlings of George the Second, the of his aversion to royalty and to royal flirtations of Princess Emily with the persons. He calls the crime of Damien Duke of Grafton, the amours of Prince" that least bad of murders, the murder Frederic and Lady Middlesex, the of a king." He hung up in his villa squabbles between Gold Stick in wait- an engraving of the death-warrant of ing and the Master of the Buckhounds, Charles, with the inscription "Major the disagreements between the tutors Charta." Yet the most superficial of Prince George, these matters en- knowledge of history might have taught gaged almost all the attention which him that the Restoration, and the Walpole could spare from matters more crimes and follies of the twenty-eight important still, from bidding for Zinckes years which followed the Restoration, and Petitots, from cheapening frag-were the effects of this Greater Charter. ments of tapestry and handles of old Nor was there much in the means by lances, from joining bits of painted which that instrument was obtained

that could gratify a judicious lover of had acquired the language of these liberty. A man must hate kings very men, and he repeated it by rote, though bitterly, before he can think it desirable it was at variance with all his tastes that the representatives of the people and feelings; just as some old Jacobite should be turned out of doors by dra- families persisted in praying for the goons, in order to get at a king's head. Pretender, and in passing their glasses Walpole's Whiggism, however, was of over the water decanter when they a very harmless kind. He kept it, as drank the King's health, long after he kept the old spears and helmets at they had become loyal supporters of Strawberry Hill, merely for show. He the government of George the Third. would just as soon have thought of He was a Whig by the accident of hetaking down the arms of the ancient reditary connection; but he was essenTemplars and Hospitallers from the tially a courtier; and not the less a walls of his hall, and setting off on a courtier because he pretended to sneer crusade to the Holy Land, as of acting at the objects which excited his admiin the spirit of those daring warriors ration and envy. His real tastes perand statesmen, great even in their petually show themselves through the errors, whose names and seals were thin disguise. While professing all affixed to the warrant which he prized the contempt of Bradshaw or Ludlow so highly. He liked revolution and for crowned heads, he took the trouble regicide only when they were a hundred to write a book concerning Royal Auyears old. His republicanism, like the thors. He pryed with the utmost anxcourage of a bully, or the love of a iety into the most minute particulars fribble, was strong and ardent when relating to the Royal family. When there was no occasion for it, and sub- he was a child, he was haunted with a sided when he had an opportunity of longing to see George the First, and bringing it to the proof. As soon as gave his mother no peace till she had the revolutionary spirit really began to found a way of gratifying his curiosity. stir in Europe, as soon as the hatred of The same feeling, covered with a thoukings became something more than a sand disguises, attended him to the sonorous phrase, he was frightened into grave. No observation that dropped a fanatical royalist, and became one of from the lips of Majesty seemed to the most extravagant alarmists of those him too trifling to be recorded. The wretched times. In truth, his talk French songs of Prince Frederic, comabout liberty, whether he knew it or positions certainly not deserving of not, was from the beginning a mere preservation on account of their incant, the remains of a phraseology trinsic merit, have been carefully prewhich had meant something in the served for us by this contemner of mouths of those from whom he had royalty. In truth, every page of Wallearned it, but which, in his mouth, pole's works bewrays him. This Diomeant about as much as the oath by genes, who would be thought to prefer which the Knights of some modern his tub to a palace, and who has nothing orders bind themselves to redress the to ask of the masters of Windsor and wrongs of all injured ladies. He had Versailles but that they will stand out been fed in his boyhood with Whig of his light, is a gentleman-usher at speculations on government. He must heart. often have seen, at Houghton or in Downing Street, men who had been Whigs when it was as dangerous to be a Whig as to be a highwayman, men who had voted for the Exclusion Bill, who had been concealed in garrets and cellars after the battle of Sedgemoor, and who had set their names to the declaration that they would live and die with the Prince of Orange. He

He had, it is plain, an uneasy consciousness of the frivolity of his favourite pursuits; and this consciousness produced one of the most diverting of his ten thousand affectations. His busy idleness, his indifference to matters which the world generally regards as important, his passion for trifles, he thought fit to dignify with the name of philosophy. He spoke of himself as of

a man whose equanimity was proof to | faisait apporter chez lui, et en donnait ambitious hopes and fears, who had à ses amis pour de l'argent." There learned to rate power, wealth, and are several amusing instances of Walfame at their true value, and whom the pole's feeling on this subject in the conflict of parties, the rise and fall of letters now before us. Mann had statesmen, the ebb and flow of public complimented him on the learning opinion, moved only to a smile of which appeared in the "Catalogue of mingled compassion and disdain. It Royal and Noble Authors;" and it is was owing to the peculiar elevation of curious to see how impatiently Walpole his character that he cared about a bore the imputation of having attended pinnacle of lath and plaster more than to any thing so unfashionable as the about the Middlesex election, and about improvement of his mind. "I know a miniature of Grammont more than nothing. How should I? I who have about the American Revolution. Pitt always lived in the big busy world; and Murray might talk themselves who lie a-bed all the morning, calling hoarse about trifles. But questions of it morning as long as you please; who government and war were too insig-sup in company; who have played at faro nificant to detain a mind which was occupied in recording the scandal of club-rooms and the whispers of the back-stairs, and which was even capable of selecting and disposing chairs of ebony and shields of rhinocerosskin.

half my life, and now at loo till two and three in the morning; who have always loved pleasure; haunted auctions..... How I have laughed when some of the Magazines have called me the learned gentleman. Pray don't be like the Magazines." This folly might be pardoned in a boy. But a man between forty and fifty years old, as Walpole then was, ought to be quite as much ashamed of playing at loo till three every morning as of being that vulgar thing, a learned gentleman.

One of his innumerable whims was an extreme unwillingness to be considered a man of letters. Not that he was indifferent to literary fame. Far from it. Scarcely any writer has ever troubled himself so much about the appearance which his works were to The literary character has undoubtedmake before posterity. But he had ly its full share of faults, and of very seset his heart on incompatible objects.rious and offensive faults. If Walpole He wished to be a celebrated author, had avoided those faults, we could and yet to be a mere idle gentleman, have pardoned the fastidiousness with one of those Epicurean gods of the which he declined all fellowship with earth who do nothing at all, and who men of learning. But from those faults pass their existence in the contempla- | Walpole was not one jot more free tion of their own perfections. He did than the garreteers from whose connot like to have any thing in common tact he shrank. Of literary meanwith the wretches who lodged in the nesses and literary vices, his life and little courts behind St. Martin's Church, his works contain as many instances and stole out on Sundays to dine with as the life and the works of any memtheir bookseller. He avoided the so-ber of Johnson's club. The fact is, ciety of authors. He spoke with lordly contempt of the most distinguished among them. He tried to find out some way of writing books, as M. Jourdain's father sold cloth, without derogating from his character of Gentilhomme. "Lui, marchand? C'est pure médisance: il ne l'a jamais été. Tout ce qu'il faisait, c'est qu'il était fort obligeant, fort officieux; et comme il se connaissait fort bien en étoffes, il en allait choisir de tous les côtés, les

that Walpole had the faults of Grub Street, with a large addition from St. James's Street, the vanity, the jealousy, the irritability of a man of letters, the affected superciliousness and apathy of a man of ton.

His judgment of literature, of contemporary literature especially, was altogether perverted by his aristocratical feelings. No writer surely was ever guilty of so much false and absurd criticism. He almost invariably