cussing the second edition of the Folio, which had then been out of the press not much above twelve months." "Here," as Oliver Goldsmith writes in his characteristic "Reverie" at this very tavern, "by a pleasant fire, in the very room where old Sir John Falstaff cracked his jokes, in the very chair which was sometimes honoured by Prince Henry, and sometimes polluted by his immoral merry companions, I sat and ruminated on the follies of youth; wished to be young again, but was resolved to make the best of life while it lasted, and now and then compared past and present times together." Another Will, with a sweeter name, a Will Mead, kept the "Mermaid," in Bread Street, which was a house of great repute among the gentlefolk, and also another historical and literary focus of attraction. Here "rare Ben Jonson" met his friends Shakespeare, Beaumont, and Fletcher; and Beaumont reminds us of the wit and humour which flowed there, when he says,

"What things have we seen

Done at the 'Mermaid'! heard words that have
been

So nimble and so full of subtle fire,
As if that every one from whom they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life."

able if we were governed by the space it ocсиpies in the volume before us; but Mr. Tuckerman has treated the subject with such genuine and hearty appreciation of the historical and literary associations of our ancient hostelries, and in such a thoroughly English tone, that we imagine it will be found the most attractive and readable paper of the collection.

The inner life of a man of genius, his likes and dislikes, his quips and quibbles, his pains and pleasures, have always exercised a strange fascination over the Essayist. The elder Disraeli in his Quarrels of Authors,' and Calamities of Authors,' has left behind a mine of anecdote on the subject; and Mr. Tuckerman might have made his Essay on "Authors" more complete by the judicious use of a few anecdotes from those valuable works. The prevailing faults in this Essay arise from the Author's fancy of just mentioning the name of each writer, in combination with his traditionary belongings. Thus we have a whole page written in this style: - "Milton - his head like that of a saint encircled with rays - seated at the organ, Landor standing in the ilex path of a Tuscan villa, Dryden seated in oracular dignity in his coffee-house armchair," and Camoens breasting the waves with the Lusiad between his teeth." These and many others Mr. Tuckerman characterises as the visions of his student life, which was "little else than a boundless panorama that displayed scenes in the lives of his favourite authors." Too much of the earlier portion of this paper is occupied by mere names and epithets and fine writing, instead of good, wholesome criticism or valuable historical matter: indeed, some parts of the Essay read almost like the catalogue of a picture gallery. The author is more pleasing and natural in his account of his meeting and conversation with Sismondi and Silvio Pellico. He sees them in Italy:

Boswell records Dr. Johnson's hearty praise of the solid comforts and unrestrained conviviality of a tavern. There in a cosy corner, with a blazing fire and well-cooked food, the learned sage who "could abstain, but could not be moderate," was at liberty to make those "inarticulate animal noises over his food," which seemed to yield him so much gratification. Mr. Tuckerman remarks that a man so organised might not inappropriately "call a tavern-chair the throne of human felicity," and might repeat "Shenstone's praise of inns with rapture: " Beneath this jovial appreciation, however, the former there lurks a sad inference; it argues a homeless

lot, for lonely or ungenial must be the residence, looked like a temperate country gentleman, or contrast with which renders an inn so attract- unambitious and well-to-do citizen. He thon

ive; and we must bear in mind that the winsome aspect they wear in English literature is based on their casual and femporary enjoyment; it is as recreative, not abiding places, that they are usually introduced; and, in an imaginative my country, and exhibiting entire familiarity

point of view, our sense of the appropriate is gratified by these landmarks of our precarious destiny, for we are but " pilgrims and sojourners on the earth." Jeremy Taylor compared human life to an inn, and Archbishop Leighton used to say he would prefer to die in one.

spoke of the changes he observed upon cach successive visit to Italy, of the climate of Switzerland, and the society of Geneva; then he referred to America, divining at once that it was with all that had been accomplished there in litHe betrayed a keen sense of enjoyment, recognised a genial influence in the scene before us, and gradually infected me with that agreeable feeling only to be derived from what poor Cowper used to call "comfortable people." I led him to speak of his own method of life,

erature.

We have given a longer notice of this "Es- which was one of the most philosophical order. say on Inns" than is perhaps strictly justifi-He considered occasional travel and prudent habits the best hygiene for a man of sedentary pur- | ing expression when I told him of the deep sym

manner of Silvio Pellico. No one who has ever read the chronicle of his imprisonments can forget the gentle and aspiring nature just blooming into poetic development, which, by the relentless fiat of Austrian tyranny, was cut off in a moment from home, intelligent companionship, and graceful activity, and subjected to the loneliness, privation, and torments of long and solitary confinement; nor is the spirit in which he met thors. Those surviving he set down as the bitter reverse less memorable than its tragic 3,000, and they had written in the year predetail-recorded with so much simplicity, and borne with such loving faith. When I arrived ceding 7,000 abortive works: 3,000 born in Turin he was still an object of espionage, and dead, and not a single one that out-lived the it was needful to seek him with caution. Agree year itself. "Three hundred and twenty ably to instructions previously received, I went perished of sudden death, and a few thou

billows of sound roll forth to awe and enchantment has mostly great influence, where the the world.

In our own country Milton made but "slow way," not merely with the general but with the educated public. Dryden supposed he wrote Paradise Lost' in blank verse because he was unable to do it in rhyme! Johnson depreciated him by asserting that if he could cut a colossus out of the rock he could not carve heads upon cherry-stones; as if Milton's briefer poems and sonnets were unworthy of the author of the great epic! Hannah More united with Johnson, not only in thinking these briefer poems bad, but in critically examining why they were so! But there is no end to the vagaries of authors when judging of other writers.

umns

commonplace wish to keep the peace and to maintain property on which the Empire at first rested, and to which it has appealed so often, is stronger than any other political idea. What is the cause of this and what are to be its effects ?

The most common accusation against the Empire is that it is a "failure." M. Theirs says- "There is no new blunder left for it to commit; it has already committed all which are possible," - and though this is the rhetorical exaggeration of a professional assailant, yet in fairness it must be owned that looked at with the eyes of a Frenchman the success of the Empire is not so plain it was only a year or two A ago. Frenchman cares much, unreasonably much,

as

We should like to transfer to our colmuch more of Dr. Doran's pleasant gossip on "Authors " and other subjects treated in the volume before us. Mr. Tuckerman's Essay on "Doctors," where he jokes and tells us anecdotes of the medical profession from Hippocrates down to Hahnemann; that on Lawyers, where he is icy of the Emperor, though successful, has both grave and gay, and the papers on Hol

probably, about foreign policy - about upholding the power and the dignity of his country among other nations. But the pol

not been successful for France; though idays, Actors, Newspapers, and Preachers, wise, it has not been wise for France. He must all be read to be appreciated. We introduced into practical diplomacy the can recommend the volume to our readers principle of nationalities; he first made a

as an amusing and instructive contribution

to the light literature of England, by an author who, while he is not forgetful of the poets and authors of his native country, shows a large acquaintance with our old English writers, and a genuine love of the great works they have bequeathed to the Anglo-Saxon race.

term of use and authority out of what was before a vague and fanatical expression; he said "It is well that great nations with common speech, and similar character, and strong sympathies, should have a common Government; the ancient boundaries which separate such nations are but inherited difficulties; they keep apart those whom nature has made similar and whom God has joined." But in consequence Italy has been made, and Germany is being made. France, instead of being the one compact nation on the Continent, is becoming only one of several compact nations. The creation of Germany is the creation of a counterweight; and the rise of Italy is the rise of an opponent. In history, France prospered because she was more prosperous and more equal than these two competing countries which are conterminous with her, but now they will soon be as compact as she is. And this is the plain result of Louis Napoleon's characteristic policy. It is the best thing he has done for Europe; it is that by which in after ages he will be remembered for good if by anything. But it has been already, and manifestly in future must be,

THE most important recent change in politics is that the French Empire is becoming unpopular. There is a "light in the eyes "of its opponents which there never was before; they feel not only that they are men who are right, but that they are men who may succeed; they begin to think not only that their cause may prosper, but that it may prosper in their time. The newspapers discuss whether the present form of Government is the best or not, somewhat as in 1852, before the Empire, they discussed whether a Republic was the best or not. Prosecutions against the press are disadvantageous to France, and therefore

the French do not like it.

incessant; elections are carried against the Government not only in large cities where anti-Imperialists were always strong, and In domestic policy, again, Frenchmen where Liberal ideas are always to be found say "No doubt the Emperor is successif anywhere, but in remote country districts ful, but then we have to pay for his success, like the Jura where Liberalism does not He makes great improvements; he alters abound, where a Government as Govern-our towns; he makes a nineteenth century

habits the best hygiene for a man of sedentary pur-
suits; and the great secret both of health and
successful industry the absolute yielding up of
one's consciousness to the business and the di-
version of the hour -never permitting the one
to infringe in the least degree upon the other.
I felt an instinctive respect toward him, but at
the same time entirely at home in his company;
the gentleman and the scholar appeared to me
admirably fused in, without overlaying, the
man. Presently the friend we mutually expected
came in, and introduced me to Sismondi,
fresh from his Italian Republics' and Litera-
ture of the South of Europe,' and he realised my

ideal of a humane and earnest historian.

I was

ing expression when I told him of the deep sympathy his book had excited in America, and he grasped my hand with momentary ardour; but the man too plainly reflected the martyr.

66

Dr. Doran's introductory notes to this Essay are full of suggestions condensed into a few pages, and will be preferred by many of our readers to the Essay itself. He remarks on the fact of Congreve being ashamed of acknowledging that he was an it. When Voltaire called to see him, “the author, although he had so little cause for French writer expressly stated that the comQuite in contrast with this tranquil and ro- pliment was addressed to the author, and bust votary of letters was the appearance and not merely to Mr. Congreve. The latter manner of Silvio Pellico. No one who has ever remarked that he was a gentleman and not read the chronicle of his imprisonments can for- an author. The rejoinder of the witty get the gentle and aspiring nature just blooming Frenchman was that if Congreve had been into poetic development, which, by the relentless only a gentleman, he, the French author, fiat of Austrian tyranny, was cut off in a mo- would never have thought of calling upon ment from home, intelligent companionship, and him at all." Upwards of a century since, graceful activity, and subjected to the loneliness, a satirical writer in the privation, and torments of long and solitary Urban" gave some statistics of English aupages of Sylvanus confinement; nor is the spirit in which he met thors. Those surviving he set down as the bitter reverse less memorable than its tragic 3,000, and they had written in the year predetail-recorded with so much simplicity, and borne with such loving faith. When I arrived ceding 7,000 abortive works: 3,000 born in Turin he was still an object of espionage, and dead, and not a single one that out-lived the Three hundred and twenty it was needful to seek him with caution. Agree- year itself. ably to instructions previously received, I went perished of sudden death, and a few thouto a cafe near the Strada Alfieri, just at night- sands went to line trunks, make sky-rocket fall, and watched for the arrival of an abbé re- cases, hold pills, or were consumed by markable for his manly beauty. I handed him worms." Of the authors themselves, a thouthe card of a mutual friend, and made known sand died of lunacy, a larger number were my wishes. The next day he conducted me starved, "seventeen were hanged, fifteen through several arcades, and by many a group committed suicide, five pastoral poets died of noble-looking Piedmontese soldiers, to a gate- of fistula, others in various ways." way, thence up a long flight of steps to a door, at Doran speaks, too, of Milton and his alleged which he gave a significant knock. In a few moments it was quietly opened. He whispered Use and Imitation of the Moderns," and of plagiarism; of Landor's Essay on “ to the old serva, and we tarried in an ante-cham- the Frenchman's charge that his epic was ber until a diminutive figure in black appeared, taken from an old Italian mystery, the Adwho received me with a pensive kindliness that, to one acquainted with Le Mie Prigioni,' was amo' by Andréivi. Cædmon, the Anglofraught with pathos. I beheld in the pallor of Saxon poet, and St. Avitus both wrote on that mild face and expanded brow, and the pur- the Creation of man and the Fall, at a peblind eyes, the blight of a dungeon. His man- riod long anterior to Milton: ner was subdued and nervous, and his very tones melancholy. I was unprepared to find, after years of liberty, the effects of his experience so visible, and felt almost guilty of profane curiosity in having thus intruded upon his cherished seclusion. I had known other victims of the same infernal tyranny; but they were men of sterner mould, who had resisted their cruel fate by the force of will rather than the patience of resignation. Pellico's very delicacy of organisation barbed the arrows of persecution; and when at length he was released, loneliness, hope deferred, and mental torture had crushed the energy of his nature. The sweetness of his autobiography was but the fragrance of the trampled flower too unelastic ever again to rise up in its early beauty. A smile lighted up his brood

Dr.

• Milton's

But, as another French author, M. Guizot, has remarked, "It is of little importance to Miltou's glory whether he was acquainted with them or not. He was one of those who imitate when they please, for they invent when they choose, and they invent even while imitating." True authorship could not be more happily defined than under those words; and they may be applied in reference to another attempt to question Milton's originality, in the statement that he founded his epic on the old drama Adomo Coduto by Salandra. Moreover, there is nothing more in common between Milton and his predecessors than that he selected a subject which they had sung before. Their tune is on an oaten reed; but Milton sits down to the organ, and