Tweed, while visiting the Lions of London, of course, desired and endeavoured to obtain a peep at the King; and accordingly repaired to St. James's Palace, at an early hour of the morning, when, as he was informed, he had a good chance of espying the personage in question nor was he disappointed. The king, however, was as much on the alert as the north-countryman, and no sooner perceived him, than he bawled out, "Who are you? Who are you? What's your name ? Where from?" "Please your Majesty," answered the unsophisticated Scotchman," I am from Edinburgh, and my name is John Ogle." "John Ogle, John Ogle! What a queer name is John Ogle!" was the gracious rejoinder. To illustrate how retentive his Majesty's memory was, as well as to show his manner of being amused by outlandish or unfamiliar appellations, it may be added, that the said John Ogle, some years afterwards, had occasion to revisit the metropolis; and again quite unexpectedly encountered George the Third, we believe, in a celebrated mechanist's manufactory. The moment the parties came in contact, the King, quite funnily, exclaimed-" John Ogle! John Ogle again! a queer name John Ogle!"

But it is Mr. Bucke's memory, not our own, that must be drawn upon; and here is something more about men, "Who are alike only in one thing."

"The dog, the wolf, the jackall, and the corsac, are all modifications of the same species; their resemblances, therefore, are multitudinous.

"Certain blues and greens by candle-light are frequently taken for each other. The one is blue, the other green, nevertheless.

"Sir William Wadd, to whom we owe Rider's Dictionary,' Hooker's Polity,' and Gruter's Inscriptions,' and who was removed from the governorship of the Tower to make way for Sir Gervase Elways, who murdered Sir Thomas Overbury in the reign of James I., kept a friend to admonish him whenever he saw anything amiss in his conduct. This associates him with Philip of Macedon.

Sargon resembles Cardinal de Retz and Madame de Beverweert; he never sleeps so well as when under affliction. If Cardinal de Carbonne resembled Catherine de Medicis in having an antipathy to the odour of roses, though partial to all other flowers, few women resemble Marshal Suwarrow, in having a strong dislike to looking-glasses.

"Cosmo de Medici and Johu de Medici, also, resembled each other in one thing. Though they could play, as it were, on many instruments, they took care to play only on one at a time. Marcilius Ficinus asserts of the former, that neither Midas nor Crassus were more avaricious. The latter was above all disguise; and, therefore, made no secret of the maxim, that a people are enriched by being compelled to pay additional taxes.

"Some resemble in character the styles of various architects and painters. This is distinguished by boldness, strength, manliness, and majesty, like Julio Romano; some by delicacy, ease, and elegance, like Correggio; and others by symmetry, and the blending of ornament with beauty, like Palladio. Some converse with great apparent depth; and yet, when

analyzed, are found to prove nothing; thereby reminding us of 'Warburton's Divine Legation of Moses,' a work pregnant with ingenuity, labour, and learning; yet illuminated by scarcely one solitary demonstration.

“Some men resemble each other in certain points and arguments, and then separate, as it were, to such a distance, as to baffle all attempts to associate them. We may instance Newton and Des Cartes. Two attempts, nevertheless, have been made to reconcile the opposing tenets of these philosophers: the one by Luzac of Leyden; the other by Father Paulian, Professor of Physic in the College of Avignon. It was vain, however, for the latter to entitle his Essay a 'Traité de Paix entre Descartes et Newton.' Their systems never can be reconciled.

"Charles V. and Donne (the poet) resembled each other, also, in one point. Charles, as every one knows, had his obsequies performed previous to his death. Donne, after a similar manner, caused himself to be wrapped in a sheet, like a shroud, up to the head, closed his eyes, and desired an artist to take his portrait in that posture, in order to remind him perpetually of death. Thus the gladiator exhausts

-His mighty heart in one last sigh;

And rallies all life's energies to die.—Chinnery.

There is something sweet and winning in the following reflections; and yet there is something more to be made of the combinations than our book-worm has done. The text is, "Who take appropriate Distances," &c.

"There are many beautiful spots in the vicinity of London; near Hampstead, for instance, Highgate, Dulwich, Sydenham, and Shooter's Hill; but he who should celebrate them would almost render himself ridiculous; so indifferent are men to what they continually behold or hear of. It is thus, perhaps, at Paris and Vienna. But at Edinburgh, at Florence, at Rome, and at Naples, it is otherwise.

"When I contemplate the calm and innocent delight that is derived from acts of benevolence, I am led to wonder that men should not be led to devote half their fortunes to benevolent purposes. But when I remember the general ingratitude of mankind, I almost wonder they should contribute a single sou. Happy are those who have power to see and to feel, that ingratitude in some ought never to be used as a shield against the misfortunes of others. We may learn something, too, from the circumstance, that the perfumes of flowers are sweeter, when wafted by the air, than when close under our windows. Madame de Maintenon frequently exclaimed, I have seen things too near.' In respect to distance, well is it for those whose views of men and things open by little and little. For if many things are invisible to us from ignorance, others become equally so by the extent of our knowledge. Thus Uranus is but little known, because of its remoteness from the sun; and Mercury still less, because of its proximity.

"The apple-blossom is very beautiful when near, but at a distance it loses most of its variety and richness. Many cities, on the contrary, especially in Asia, Africa, and South America, seem beautiful at a distance, but then it is only at a distance. On approaching them closely, everything presents an appearance of ruin, filth, poverty, and wretchedness. Friends

and enemies, in the same manner, stand too near our monuments to measure their proportions. Enemies sketch a lion or a serpent: friends draw portraits of friends as they do of their mistresses. There is truth or justice in neither.

"Princes should be contemplated nearly. Seen from a distance, even bad ones excite an imposing veneration; but, examined closely, they but too often present materials, like those of a modern ruin, in which there is neither beauty nor strength, utility nor magnificence."

Mr. Bucke remarks, that "men of talent, especially artists, are but too often loose and vicious, not only in their manners but in their morals; he adds that "those who cultivate their minds largely, however, are seldom so." Now, upon such a discovery as this, which shows how shrewdly the writer can mark and distinguish, especially when we find him also affirming that "mere talent is but an equivocal possession, after all," might there not have been some generalized results or doctrines deduced that would have served to mark and define one section of mankind, one feature in "Human Character." But no! all this is left for others to do.

Let us see how unjustly poets have been appreciated!—

Virgil would have been esteemed a necromancer, had our ancestors had no opportunity of correcting the folly of the darker ages. Some insist that Virgil has not one attribute of a poet, but a pure and exquisite style: Lucan's beauties, in the opinion of some, are reduced to his love of liberty, generous sentiments, contempt of death, and his sublime personification of Jupiter. Virgil, according to some, moves like a prelate; Lucan, like a bold, victorious general; and as to Terence, he has no character, no plot, no incident, no wit. Style is his only merit; and his dramas were written only for mathematicians !

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Shall we turn to our own country? Some rank Pope no higher than the class of ingenious men; and as to Shakespeare, Hume appreciated him in a manner disgraceful only to himself. Napoleon, too, estimated him (and Milton) so entirely after the manner of a Frenchman in the reign of Louis XIV., that it is rather amusing than displeasing. I have read Shakespeare,' said he; there is nothing that approaches Corneille and Racine. There is no possibility of reading one of his pieces through. They excite pity. As to Milton, there is nothing but his invocation to the sun, and two or three other passages. The rest is a mere rhapsody.' Byron had little admiration of Shakespeare; and Pope almost as little of Milton. The opinion of Salmasius is that of an enemy; hence he could never be induced to regard Milton's Latin poems as worthy any one but a schoolboy. In Germany, previous to 1764, the Paradise Lost' was so little known, and still more so little appreciated, that one of the most influential critics of that country presumed to speak of it in the following manner : 'Paradise Lost' had long mouldered in the bookseller's warehouse, so as scarce to be any longer remembered, when two persons, not more distinguished for their rank than literature, undertook to convince their countrymen of the excellence of that poem: and this they did so effectually, that England, for a long time, was brought to believe, or at least to say, that

they believed, what, without such powerful recommendations, they would never have thought of.' This would seem to be a curious species of impertinence, could we forget, that some even of our own country have overlooked all Milton's beauties for the purpose of enlarging on his digressions, his allusions to heathen fables, his occasional pedantry, his Hebraisms, Grecisms, and Latinisms; his perpetual employment of technical terms; his episode of Sin and Death (the finest allegory in all poetry); the imperfections of his fable; his employment of old words; his elisions; the length of his periods and his idiomatic expressions; the occasional violence of his metaphors; and his obligations to Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and Italian poets. Not only his poetical character has been assailed, but his private one; and by whom? Warburton, bishop of Gloucester. It thus stands recorded in the Sloane Collection of MSS. (No 4320), where I have myself seen it, and whence I extracted it:-The character of Milton was certainly the most corrupt of any man of his age; I do not say so on account of his either being a presbyterian, an independent, a republican, for the government of one (for many honest men were in every one of these ways); but because he was all these in their turn, without (from any thing that appears to the contrary) a struggle or a blush. Imagine to yourself a thorough timeserver, and you could not put him upon any task more completely conformable to that character than what Milton voluntarily underwent. It is true, he was steady enough in one thing-namely, in his aversion to the court and royal family; but this, I suspect, was because he was not received amongst the wits there favourably. Thus we find men, eminent ones too, instead of calmly estimating the merits and demerits of others, employing the language of senseless encomium, or of extravagant censure; raising them to heaven, as it were, or thrusting them to hades; not from sound morals, but prejudice; not from reason, but passion."

The manner in which warriors and politicians level their revenge and hatred is somewhat different, though analogous.

"How many unworthy expedients have warriors and politicians resorted to! Tamerlane engaged the garrison of Haili to capitulate upon condition that no blood should be spilt. He kept his word. He buried them alive.'

Mahomet II., at the taking of Negropont, promised a man to spare his head. He did spare his head; but he caused him to be severed through the middle of his body.' Cromwell served Charles I. much in the same manner. He promised him, that not a hair of his head' should be hurt; nor was it hurt."

Mr. Bucke gives a long list of such perfidious instances. In conclusion, we must remark, in congruity with our preliminary observations, that twenty volumes of such facts and cullings as fill the two now before us, would not embrace an enlarged or definite sketch of "Human Character," either as respects its principles or its varieties, and therefore the title is a misnomer. As to the style of writing which pervades the work, nothing but praise can be bestowed. It is singularly neat and accurate.

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ART. V.-The Duchess de la Vallière. A Play in Five Acts. By the Author of "Eugene Aram," "The Last Days of Pompeii,"

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Rienzi," &c. London: Otley. 1836.

THERE has been a good deal of speculation abroad for some time, regarding the advent and the merits of this play. The author himself informs his readers that it was written in 1835-that it was submitted to no other opinion than that of Mr. Macready, who was anxious for its performance at Drury-lane, but that the manager of that theatre, by insisting upon having a sight of the manuscript before he hazarded concluding a bargain with the author, prevented all farther arrangements between them from taking place; for, says Mr. Bulwer, the condition required was such as no author of moderate reputation concedes to a publisher, and therefore was not to be granted to a manager. It is not for us to question such high authority as to the etiquette which should be observed between the celebrated literary characters and the bibliopoles who traffic with them for their works, but certainly it must appear to plain persons by no means an unfair condition, that he who has to pay for such goods should previously have a sight of them, or in other words, that there should not only be two parties, but that they should have equal rights, whenever a bargain is to be struck. We also know that there have been authors whose fame has been as deservedly great as ever Mr. Bulwer's is likely to become, who have submitted to the supposed humiliating condition in treating with managers as well as with publishers. The independence of spirit which eminent authors are entitled to cherish, however, is a matter of very little concern to the public, and we need only refer to the high bearing of Mr. Bulwer, as affording an instance where an author's self-conceit may be ridiculous, and where his opinion of the merits of his own performance may be very different or in direct opposition to what is entertained by the public.

The main question therefore occurs-does "The Duchess de la Vallèire" prove to have warranted all the hauteur and higgling which have preceded its appearance upon the stage, and can we congratulate the manager of Covent-garden on "the very prompt and liberal accedence," which has characterised his conduct in submitting to the uncompromising demands of the author? Before we venture to offer an answer, or seek for the opinion of our readers, in reference to this natural inquiry, it will be proper to go through the play, and liberally extract from it.

The story upon which the present drama is built, and which it embodies, is sufficiently well known. Many of our readers also may be familiar with the romance of The Duchess de la Vallière, by Madam de Genlis, in which that accomplished writer has