ference to a well-established ascendancy, had long been the only circumstances which gave to the minister a potent voice in the councils of the King." (II. 391.) The King's deference to Clarendon, whilst it seemed to cement his power, served to make the minister "too little mindful that they no longer stood on the ancient footing of pupil and of master, and that the Restoration, though it also added to his own importance, had destroyed for ever that proximity which youth and broken fortunes had produced." (II. 391.) Clarendon was apt to be somewhat too open in his reproof of Charles's inattention and immorality, "too peremptory in his demands upon his time." "Circumstances like these afforded a handle for those intriguers who sought to lessen the influence of Clarendon, and who artfully wrought upon that feeling so common among weak men-the fear of seeming to be governed. If the King,' said Clarendon, would go such a journey, or do such a trivial thing to-morrow, somebody would lay a wager that he would not do it; and when he was asked why, it was answered, that the Chancellor would not let him.' . . . . . . The aid of ridicule was also summoned to undermine an influence of which the King was thus made jealous and ashamed. The wits of the Court (and foremost among them, Buckingham and Killigrew, the former of whom was a political rival) made the absent Chancellor a frequent subject of their mirth in the King's presence. Mimicry was successfully employed; and they ventured, for the amusement of Charles and Lady Castlemaine, upon the broad buffoonery of exhibiting the mimic Chancellor with bellows and fire-shovel carried before him, like the purse and mace; a jest which was perhaps heightened by some ostentation on the part of Clarendon. . . . . These attacks had weakened the influence of the Chancellor and made his sway seem irksome to the King; when his suspected opposition to Charles's pleasures," in effecting a marriage between Miss Stewart and the Duke of Richmond, with a view to prevent Charles from procuring a divorce and marrying that lady himself, "filled full the measure of royal resentment." (II. 393.) "Clarendon had also a powerful enemy in the King's implacable and imperious mistress. Lady Castlemaine knew that he had systematically endeavoured to counteract her influence-that he had opposed her admission to the post of Lady of the Bedchamber to the Queen, and the elevation of her husband to the Earldom of Castlemaine. He had stopped grants made to her by the King; and, though her father was among the oldest friends of Clarendon, and the first cousin of his first wife, he would show her no courtesy but such as was unavoidable, and would not allow his wife to visit her. He had avowed and justified this conduct in an interview with the King, in which he told him, that as it would reflect upon his Majesty himself if his Chancellor was known or thought to be of dissolute and debauched manners, which would make him as incapable as unworthy to do him service; so it would be a blemish and taint upon him to give any countenance, or to pay more than ordinary courtesy and unavoidable civilities, to persons infamous for any vice, for which by the laws of God and man they ought to be odious, and to be exposed to the judgment of the church and state; and that he would not for his own sake and for his own dignity, to how low a condition soever he might be reduced, stoop to such a condescension as to have the least commerce or to make the application of a visit to any such person, for any benefit or advantage that it might bring to him. He did beseech his Majesty not to believe GENT. MAG. VOL. X. R that he hath a prerogative to declare vice virtue, or to qualify any person who lives in a sin and avows it, against which God himself hath pronounced damnation, for the company and conversation of innocent and worthy persons; and that whatever low obedience, which was in truth gross flattery, some people might pay to what they believed would be grateful to his Majesty, they had in their hearts a perfect detestation of the persons they made address to; and that for his part he was long resolved that his wife should not be one of those courtiers, and that he would himself much less like her company, if she put herself into theirs who had not the same innocence.' (II. 394-6.) Whilst Clarendon stood thus surrounded by enemies, and, moreover, whilst he was visited with a most profound affliction in the sudden death of his second wife-the mother of all his children-the King, incited by Lady Castlemaine and Buckingham, took the first step towards his degradation. He sent to inform him that he had had secret information that the Parliament intended to impeach him at their next meeting, and he recommended that he should appease their wrath by an immediate surrender of the Great Seal. Clarendon expressed confidence in his innocence and integrity, and defied any such an attack. He sought an interview with the King, and demanded what fault he had committed? The King disclaimed having any thing to object to him, but advised him to appease the Parliament by resignation, which the King said would enable him to preserve him, and to provide for the passage of his own business and the obtaining all he desired. Clarendon replied, that he would by no means suffer it to be believed that he was willing to deliver up the seal, that he had no fear of the justice of Parliament, and that he relied for preservation upon his own innocence rather than upon the protection of his Majesty. The interview pleased neither party, and was rendered especially unpropitious at its close by some uncourtierlike allusions made by Clarendon to Lady Castlemaine. Both parties separated in ill humour; a strong endeavour to bring about a reconciliation was afterwards made by some of Clarendon's friends, and "the business seemed to cool," until Castlemaine nearly hectored the King out of his wits," and induced him to send a warrant for the seal on the 30th August 1667. 66 This was the opening of the tragedy. On the 10th October the Parliament met, and in the King's speech credit was taken for the recent change in the administration, and a hope expressed that it would be a foundation for a greater confidence between the King and the Parliament. The hint was eagerly received by the Commons; thanks were returned for the dismissal, and the King, in his reply, pledged himself never to employ Clarendon again. The next step was to impeach him; a committee of inquiry reported seventeen heads of accusation, but the taking the proofs was negatived, and no treason could be discovered in any of the alleged charges. Ultimately, Lord Vaughan moved an addition to the sixteenth article, which was then declared to amount to the desired offence; and a general impeachment of treason, in conformity with the cases of Strafford and Laud, and without specifying particulars, was preferred against him. The Lords were then requested to commit him to custody, but declined to do so, without first being satisfied as to the nature of the particular charge. The Commons took this determination in high dudgeon. They voted the conduct of the Lords " an obstruction to public justice," and a serious contest between the Houses seemed pending, at a time when the business of the nation called especially for unanimity and expedition. To put a stop to this state of things, Clarendon was most reluctantly in duced by messages from the King to withdraw from the country, an undertaking being given him that he should not afterwards be prosecuted, or suffer during his absence in honour or in fortune. He left behind him a written vindication or reply to the pretended charges against him, addressed to the Lords, which was treated with the utmost contempt, voted to be a libel, and ordered to be burned by the hangman-" a childish substitute for refutation not uncommon in that century." The Parliament further signified their unjust aversion to him by passing an act by which, without even a shadow of proof of his guilt, he was banished for life, and rendered incapable of pardon without the concurrence of Parliament. Persecuted; deprived, for a long time, by the mandate of Charles, of the society of his children; by the same maudate driven from place to place; in sickness, and in any thing but wealth, Clarendon passed seven years of exile in the most persevering literary industry; and, after completing his masterly vindication of the ungrateful Stuarts, died, at Rouen, on the 9th December 1674, in the 65th year of his age. He rests in Westminster Abbey without a monument, and even without an inscription to mark the place of his interment. Mr. Lister deserves great commendation for the mode in which he has treated this noble subject. He has delineated the character, judged the conduct, and estimated the works of Clarendon freely, and, in the main, fairly. We verily believe he has endeavoured to write impartially, and we think that, with some few exceptions, he has succeeded. The work is deficient in bibliographical information respecting the writings of Clarendon, and there are some repetitions and passages not intimately connected with the main subject, the omission of which would have much improved it; but these are comparatively trifling drawbacks, and scarcely detract perceptibly from the value of what we consider a most acceptable addition to our historical and biographical literature. We should like to have seen the character of Clarendon in the hands of some one who would have laid greater stress upon his affection for the Church of England; but Mr. Lister writes respectfully, although not warmly, upon that subject-he rather touches than enters upon it. Without directly mentioning the ungenerous attack upon Clarendon's character made by the late Lord Dover-an attack quite as unworthy of the talents as of the taste of that lamented nobleman Mr. Lister has made his book a most triumphant refutation of it. All the slanders of gossips and newsmongers vanish into air upon the approach of the daylight which flows from historical investigation when fairly conducted. The third volume of Mr. Lister's work consists of original papers, previously, with one or two exceptions, inedited. They are principally derived from the Clarendon papers in the Bodleian (the history of which Mr. Lister should have given), and the greater number of them relate to the transactions between Holland and Great Britain subsequent to the Restoration. In these it appears how averse Clarendon was from the unfortunate Dutch war, and how he sought to curb the indiscreet violence of Downing, the English ambassador at the Hague. There are also some important letters relating to the King's marriage, and one (which however has been published before) respecting the appointment of Lady Castlemaine to the Queen's Bedchamber, the writing of which is one of the greatest blemishes upon the conduct of Charles. There is only one way of accounting for a letter so directly in opposition to Charles's ordinary character. Upon the whole, the book has our heartiest commendation. THE LATE MR. COLERIDGE, THE POET. AT one time I drove Coleridge in an open carriage to Cambridge. We slept at Buntingford, and something brought to his mind his enlisting into the army. He said nothing of his difficulty in riding, nor do I suppose he was a bad horseman, as he at another time told me of a visit he made to, I think, Mr. Pollen, in Essex, who mounted him on a handsome horse and rode out with him. Mr. Pollen, a man of fortune and a familiar friend, remarked on Coleridge's shabby dress, and jokingly said, his character would suffer by having a visitor with such a sorry wardrobe. "Oh," said Coleridge, "never mind me; say I am your servant.' "Servant!" replied Mr. Pollen-“To keep a servant dressed as you are would totally ruin my character;-my servant must always be better dressed than I am." The only complaint Coleridge made of his embarrassment in the light-horse, was the difficulty he found in pulling the hairs out of his horse's heels that he never could accomplish; and some of his fellow soldiers, whose kindness to him he spoke of with much feeling, did it for him. A small Greek book he was reading was discovered in the holsters of his saddle, and that led to a disclosure of who he was. Steps were then taken for his discharge; and now he did no duty; but the men seemed pleased, and treated him with great respect; till the fame of his situation spreading, and he was noticed by persons in the neighbourhood, particularly by Mr. Clagget, whose daughter, a handsome girl, walked about arm in arm with him, when he thought the soldiers eyed him with some degree of envy. At Cambridge he felt much pleasure in going about and recognising old acquaintance among the townspeople. He told me many occurrences, most of which I now forget; for I never attempted to draw from him gossipy stories. He described to me the scrape he got into by applauding Mr. Frend when making his defence in the grand trial before the heads of houses. I recollect the noise Mr. Frend's pamphlet made; and especially a particular phrase, "That the poor were sconced of their allowance." The pamphlet was censured as being against the Church, and seditious. At some passage of Mr. Frend's speech in his defence in the public Hall, Coleridge applauded, by clapping his hands; there was an instant cry to bring the offender before the tribunal; the proper officer inquired, searched, and seized a wrong person, though Coleridge said he well knew the right one, took the person before the judges, when it appeared he had lost one hand and had an iron hook in its stead. The discovery of this raised such a laugh, that the affair passed off. But I suppose this and other such occurrences led to Coleridge's retirement from the University, and the ruin of his prospects; events which should teach young men at college not to be rashly vain of making discoveries when they have penetrated only skin deep. Throughout the remainder of his life, Coleridge seemed to struggle in justi. fication of himself against his Cambridge fate. He was frequently reading theological works and German metaphysics, and was often lost in abstract reasoning about religion. He perused such books in all languages, and possessed a prodigious power of reading rapidly, and becoming permanently master of what he read. Such things as the Morning Post and money never settled upon his mind. Mr. Gillman in his book has described the circumstances attending Coleridge's enlisting into the lighthorse. At that time in London, alone, penniless, he sent a poem of a few lines to Mr. Perry of the Morning Chronicle, soliciting the loan of a guinea for a distressed author. Perry, who was generous with his money, sent it, and Coleridge often mentioned this, when the Morning Chronicle was alluded to, with expressions of a deep gratitude proportioned to the severe distress which that small sum at the moment relieved. I have taxed my memory to discover on what grounds it could be that Coleridge misled himself on certain points, or was misunderstood by those who have been since writing about him. In his letter of June 1811, he speaks of the new Society of the Friends of the People. I knew nothing of that society, and had forgotten it ever existed. It could not be with reference to it I was supposed to communicate any thing to Mr. Fox, who died in 1806. The "Friends of the People," associated for Parliamentary Reform, of which Mr. (now Earl) Grey was the chief, adjourned in the spring of 1795, upon an understanding that it would not meet again, and it never did again meet. I had very likely told Coleridge that the numbers of the other societies, whose co-operation it solicited, were much exaggerated. Several books with a printed declaration in favour of Parliamentary Reform, and with many blank leaves annexed, I, by desire of the Society, gave to Thomas Hardy, the Secretary to the London Corresponding Society, then keeping a shoemaker's shop at the east end of Piccadilly, that he might circulate them through his divisions to obtain signatures in favour of Parliamentary Reform. He did so; but very few signatures were procured. The Friends of the People consisted of some peers, many members of the House of Commons, and about 130 other gentlemen of equal station. The London Corresponding Society consisted of mechanics, labourers, porters, coal-heavers, and persons of that class, divided into clubs in various parts of the town, and corresponding with other such clubs in various parts of Britain. I have heard Joseph Gerald, the accomplished scholar, the favourite pupil of Doctor Parr, describe his visits and harangues to those clubs in 1793. Hardy, in a letter to the Statesman newspaper, about twenty years ago, describes the rise of those clubs in the end of the year 1791, about the time of the appearance of Paine's "Rights of Man." At that time the society began with only seventeen members; but they boasted of, and their principles gave credit to their assertion, that they amounted to scores of thousands all over the kingdom. Some members of Parliament of the Whig party were alarmed, and thought they could guide this popular commotion from errors and mischievous courses. Hence arose the Society of the Friends of the People associated for Parliamentary Reform, of which Earl Grey was the chief, The present Duke of Bedford, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Tierney, Mr. Erskine, Mr. Whitbread, &c. &c. were members; but Mr. Fox, and his friends, Fitzpatrick, St. John, Hare, the then Duke of Bedford, Earl of Derby, &c. &c. never joined the Society. Mr. Fox disapproved of it, as playing into Pitt's hands favourably for him with the Alarmists, the Duke of Portland, Earls Spencer and Fitzwilliam, Messrs. Burke, Windham, &c. The Whigs divided into three parties; the Parliamentary Reformers, the Alarmists, and the Middlemen the Foxites-who, as Mr. Fox said in debate, stood in the gap. But the London Corresponding Society, while it accepted the countenance and protection of the Friends of the People, never intended to be guided by them. It was with them, as Horne Tooke said: "I have no objection to travel in the same stagecoach with one going only to Brentford, though I may be going to Windsor. After the acquittal of Hardy, Horne Tooke, &c. of high treason, I met in the Strand the secretary of a political society at Coventry, with which the Friends of the People were in correspondence. He exclaimed,"How fortunate it was that Mrs. Hardy made away with the drawer under her husband's cutting-board in his shop window, when the police officers arrested him, and immediately conducted him into the back parlour!" In that drawer were letters and papers that would have ruined all among others, a letter from this secretary, asserting that 200 in Coventry were already enrolled and pledged to take up arms speedily for the recovery of the people's long-lost rights. In fact, the Friends of the People did not guide or control those corresponding societies, though they laboured to do so, and thought they did. Of these things I talked at various times with Coleridge, shewing how few of the Corresponding Society joined the Friends of the People; and out of these conversations, I suppose, arose the assertion that Mr. Stuart, a knowing person, told Fox of the lies of the Friends of the People about their numbers. : Again-During three years at the time of the overthrow of Buonaparte, the Courier, by Street's able management, sold steadily upwards of 8000 |