with his characteristic industry, he instructed and qualified himself as he advanced. "It was late in life," says the late Mr. Butler, in his Reminiscences, "that Lord Hardwicke took up the study of polite literature, but he pursued it with "earnestness." As a speaker in Parliament, he appears never to have divested himself of the cautious and petty pleader. He was eminently great, only as a judicial magistrate. Wilkes, Burke, and Lord Mansfield, high authorities, seldom coinciding, were agreed that, "when he spoke, wisdom herself "might be supposed to put forth her oracles."

Lord Camden's eloquence was characterised by a noble simplicity-a total absence of art and effort. He wanted the fervour and imagination of Chatham, but had his generous impulses and enlightened views. The value of what he said, consisted in his thoughts. But he had, still, a very peculiar mastery of language-using familiar expressions with a newness of application which gave them point and dignity, and adopting the vocabulary of common life without meanness.

There are more data remaining for judging the eloquence of Lord Mansfield. His arts and talents appear to have been those which constitute an accomplished public speaker, not a great orator. We have funereal characters of him by political partisans and personal friends, professed authors and literary amateurs; but such likenesses, snatched from the tomb, are little else than occasions for flattery and fine writing. They are as those monuments of ancient sculpture, representing the apotheosis of a hero, in which the most expert connoisseur finds it difficult to recognise the mortal. Lord Mansfield, doubtless, must not be judged by the imperfect records of his speeches; in the first place, because they are imperfect; in the second place, because they are disenchanted of his personal delivery. His cotemporaries, without exception, have borne testimony to the magic, as it has been called, of his declamation. He was, in short, a great actor; and great acting can not only exalt what is noble, but throw a factitious glory over commonplace. Without trying him, however, by the standard of his reported speeches (and his judgments have so much the tone and trick of advocacy, that they may be ranged under that denomination), there is still enough to determine the traits of his oratory. The sublime of Lord Mans

145

ARTICLE VI.

Pencillings by the Way. By N. P. WILLIS, Esq. London:

1835.

THAT this book is, in many respects, a very silly one, we readily grant; and that the author has shown himself to be ignorant on some points and presuming on others, we are not disposed to deny. But we deprecate any sneering insinuations being directed against the talent or manners of America, from the character or writings of any individual American. It would be extremely unpleasant to have our English ladies estimated by the standard of Mrs. Trollope; and, at least, we are bound to render to the Americans the same measure of justice as we claim for ourselves; and not to form our opinion of what our trans-Atlantic brethren may be, in delicacy and information, from the specimen which they have sent over to us, in the person of Mr. N. P. Willis. In spite of all that he has shown himself, we still can believe that in America are to be found gentlemen and scholars, with minds as cultivated, and manners as refined, as are to be met with amongst ourselves. But in fact, when we examine into the circumstances of the case, we shall find that the causes of this author's failure are personal to himself; and would most probably have produced the same effect, to whatever country he had belonged.

In the first place, cockneyism is of no country; it may flourish as vigorously "on Susquehanna's side," as in Fleetstreet; and Mr. N. P. Willis-is a cockney. By cockney, we mean that unfortunate class of animals which can see only one object at a time, and that-the object nearest to them; which are deprived of the power of comparison, and believe the little cockle-boat, in which they themselves are embarked, to be larger, and taller, and grander in every way, than the Britannia at a little distance. Το them the ancient σχολαστικός, who showed a single brick as a specimen of a building, appears a very sensible fellow-they CAN only see one brick at a time; but then, to compensate for that imperfection, the brick appears

to them as large as a whole temple-nay, seems a whole temple in itself.

We ought not, therefore, to be much surprised if the observations of a gentleman, of this description, are a little unusual, or, indeed, absurd. The only wonder is that he has not fallen into still greater mistakes. But there is another disqualification, for the task he has assumed, under which Mr. N. P. Willis labours; and which, like the cockneyism we have mentioned, has nothing whatever to do with his being either a United-States-American, or an indigenous Cherokee. In fact, it is his NOT being an American in his opinions, or even a Cherokee, of which we complain. Nothing would give us greater pleasure than to hear the sentiments of a plain, out-spoken, clear-thinking, genuine American, of us and all our doings. Both countries might derive benefit from the observations of a person who was thoroughly acquainted with the institutions of his own land, and had abilities enough to make himself familiar with those of the other. But, whilst he has no feeling of ill-will to the country he is visiting-no blind antipathy against what appears new, nor obstinate prejudice in favour of what is old-he must still, in all he says or does, retain his nationality. We do not want an American's opinion of the Americans-nor even the opinion of any Englishman, whose heart and feelings are wholly Americanised; nor, on the other hand, do we want John Bull's opinion of himself-nor, least of all, the sentiments of an Anglified "Yankee," who forgets the nationality of which he ought to be proud, and degenerates, on reaching the Thames, into the petit maîtreism of a provincial coxcomb, or the pseudoaristocracy of a country attorney's clerk.

Mr. N. P. Willis, in all that portion of his volumes which relates to this country, has placed himself in a false position; and has further disqualified himself to give any opinion of the aristocratic and literary circles to which he was admitted, by the unfortunate fancy which has seized him, that he himself belongs, as of right, to both. Stranger idea than this never entered into any person's head. The circumstance of this gentleman having received so much notice, amongst the higher classes of society, is one which we hope will show to the Americans that the prejudice against them is entirely worn off. So entirely, indeed, is it abolished, that a strong re-action has taken place

in their favour; and nothing, we can assure them, but the very fact of Mr. N. P. Willis being an American, could have proeured him the attentions he was favoured with, while here. All classes (except a very small section of politicians, who fancy they can best prove their love to their own country by undervaluing every other) are anxious to treat the Americans with that kindness which ought to exist between near relations. Blood, as Bailie Nicol Jarvie says, is thicker than water; and a feeling, we are happy to believe, is springing up, that of all quarrels, family quarrels are the most annoying. It is now enough for a man to be transatlantic to procure him a good reception wherever he presents himself, between Cornwall and the Orkneys; and, in order to secure a continuance of this kindly feeling, we are desirous of showing that the indiscretions—to call them by no worse name-which Mr. N. P. Willis has committed (than which nothing would be more likely to interrupt this kindliness of feeling toward our far-away kindred), are to be attributed solely to the individual, and are not to be considered as by any means characteristic of his nation.

When we sit down to a book of travels,-before we can come to any decision on the degree of value attached to it, we must, as far as possible, make ourselves acquainted with the objects with which it is written. If we see pervading it a zealous desire of ascertaining and communicating truth, we forgive any mistake which may be made, and consider that it arises from haste or inadvertence-from any thing, in short, but design. But when we meet with volumes purporting to be reports of actual occurrences, but which serve principally as vehicles to bring the author himself before us, we look upon them with very different eyes. We suspect that the naked reality is dressed up according to the author's taste-that occurrences, if not altogether invented, are at least marvellously changed in the telling; and, in short, we scarcely know whether we are reading "a novel founded on facts," or the plain bonâ fide facts themselves. We fear Mr. N. P. Willis has a great facility in bestowing the cockit-hat and gold-headed cane," with which Sir Walter Scott was accused of ornamenting his vivâ voce stories. But the misfortune, with him, is, that the cane and the cockit-hat are encumbrances instead of embellishments. The cane is put in the wrong hand-the hat on the wrong head.

We find no fault with these sketches, that they were written as a means of support-or that they are the regularly purchased contributions to a periodical paper. Money cannot be more honourably acquired than by the exercise of talents; and the time is, we hope, not far distant, when literature will be recognised as a distinct and honourable profession. But this we may be allowed to object to-that Mr. N. P. Willis concealed the object with which he sought admittance into society, and introductions to celebrated men. He met them in the unsuspecting freedom of social life ;-heard them say silly, or stupid, or ill-natured things (for Apollo is not always bending his bow, nor are philosophers always wise)—and that very night, before thinking of closing his eyes, he writes down all (or sometimes a little more than all) he has seen and heard, with names and dates at full length-and sends them over to our American countrymen as specimens of the conversation of our wits, and orators, and poets. He should, at least, have given people fair warning of his intention; and then they would have spoken their best, and regulated their behaviour" in a concatenation "accordingly." But upon this point he himself appears to have felt some qualms of conscience, and makes a defence which, with the book of three volumes in our hands, strikes us as being as poor an attempt at extenuation as has ever fallen in our way." It is quite a different thing," he says,

" from

publishing such. letters in London." He has had the ingenuity to do away with the difference, and with his apology at the same time.

"There is one remark I may as well make here, with regard to the personal descriptions and anecdotes with which my letters from England will of course be filled. It is quite a different thing from publishing such letters in London. America is much farther off from England than England from America. You in New York read the periodicals of this country, and know every thing that is done or written here, as if you lived within the sound of Bow-bell. The English, however, just know of our existence; and if they get a general idea twice a year of our progress in politics, they are comparatively well informed. Our periodical literature is never even heard of. Of course, there can be no offence to the individuals themselves in any thing which a visitor could write, calculated to convey an idea of the person or manners of distinguished people to the American public. I mention it, lest, at first thought, I might seem to have abused the hospitality or frankness of those on whom letters of introduction have given me claims for civility."-(Vol. III., p. 83.)

But there are other points, on which we object to the tone and spirit of this book, besides the breach of trust implied in