aristocratic atmosphere of Christ Church, Oxford. At college, Canning formed many new friendships of an intimate character, all of which, like those of Eton, were materially calculated to influence, if not to decide the subsequent direction of his life. This was the era of poetical epistles, scrap-book contributions, and vers de société, of which the following is an example:

"Mr. Canning, then about eighteen or nineteen years of age, was walking in the grounds with Mrs. Crewe, who had just lost her favourite dog, Quon, and wanted an epitaph for him. The dog was buried close at hand, near the dairy-house. Mr. Canning protested he could not make epitaphs; but the lady was not to be denied, and so he revenged himself with the following:

EPITAPH ON MRS. CREWE'S DOG.

Poor Quon lies buried near this dairy,
And is not this a sad quondary ?*"

And Mr. Bell has industriously collected sufficient specimens of these lighter illustrations of the student's fancy and accomplishments to satisfy the reader without adding much lustre to the posthumous fame of his hero.

The conversion of Čanning to Toryism is told in bolder and more picturesque language than generally belongs to Mr. Bell's easy and refined style. The interview with William Godwin is dramatically conceived,

"A small, fresh-coloured man, with intelligent eyes, a strong expression of obstinacy in his face, and pressing ardour of manner, makes his appearance the next morning at breakfast. The host is collected, as a man should be who holds himself prepared for a revelation. The guest, unreserved and impatient of delay, hastens to unfold his mission. Amongst the speculators who are thrown up to the surface, in great political emergencies, there are generally some who are misled by the grandeur of their conceptions; and who, in the purity and integrity of their own hearts, cannot see the evil or the danger that lies before them. This was a man of that order. He enters into an animated description of the state of the country, traces the inquietude of the people to its source in the corruption and tyranny of the government, declares that they are resolved to endure oppression no longer, that they are already organised for action, that the auspicious time has arrived to put out their strength, and ends by the astounding announcement, that they have selected him -this youth who has made such a stir amongst them-as the fittest person to be placed at the head of the movement. Miracle upon miracle ! The astonishment of the youth who receives this communication may well suspend his judgment: he requires an interval to collect himself, and decide; and then, dismissing his strange visiter, shuts himself up to think. In that interval he takes a step which commits him for life. It is but a step from Lincoln's-inn to Downing-street. His faith in the people is shaken. He sees in this theory of regeneration nothing but folly and bloodshed. His reason revolts from all participation in it. And the

* This will recall Sheridan's well-known epigram on Lady Payne's monkeythe pretty and ill-used Lady Payne.

66

Alas! poor Ned,

My monkey's dead,
I had rather by half
It had been Sir Ralph."

next chamber to which we follow him, is the closet of the Minister, to whom he makes his new confession of faith, and gives in his final adherence.

"Reader, the violent little man was William Godwin, the author of the Political Justice,' and the convert was George Canning."

The origin of clubs and the influence of the French Revolution on parties in this country is also briefly but skilfully depicted in a tone of natural and healthy vigour. Who indeed can tell, with the increase of the modern clubs which have grown out of those of the end of the eighteenth century, and with the wealth and intellect that is thrown into them, what may be the amount of their future development, and the influence which they may ultimately have in the social and political destinies of this country?

From the period of his conversion, the life of Canning became the life of a public man. There are few persons of so distinguished a reputation whose private life was less chequered by incident or variety. The boy at Eton was truly father to the man, and his calm, studious, steady habits carried him onwards through life, like a deep powerful current, little vexed by obstacles, and seldom ruffled by storms, to the highest honours in the realm. The love of letters had more time to break forth in the early career of the statesman than in after life, and his biographer, who is strongly opposed to Mr. Pitt's measures against what he deems to have been an imaginary spread of revolutionary doctrines in this country, says, "While Pitt and Grenville were carrying on the war with remorseless energy abroad, Canning was employing a much more effective instrument than the sword, in combating the progress of revolutionary principles at home. That instrument was ridicule; and if the ministry had been content to leave French principles to its tender mercies they would have witnessed their extirpation by a surer process than riot acts and state trials. The Anti-Jacobin' was a much more formidable prosecutor than the attorney-general."

It was this long-debated question of war for principles-a war that bequeathed to England its national debt-which called forth the first magnificent displays of Canning's eloquence. Mr. Tierney had made a motion that the state of the country rendered it imperative upon us to leave Europe to herself. Mr. Canning rose to reply on the ministerial side, and delivered a speech which for compass of reason and masterly elocution drew expressions of admiration even from Mr. Pitt. Mr. Canning's speeches which soon followed this, upon the question of union with Ireland, suggest some sensible and judicious observations from his biographer upon the past and present policy of England towards that unhappy and ever-distracted country. We only disagree widely with Mr. Bell when he would trace all the evils that afflict that country to the injustice done to it, and none to the character of the people themselves. Upon the "Oregon question," which has lately assumed so formidable an importance, and which Mr. Rush had instructions to re-open in the time of Canning's final sickness, Mr. Bell remarks, that the claims of the United States by right of discovery and by right of treaty are fatal one to the other, and cannot co-exist. Spain could not confer upon America that which America herself already possessed. "Such a union of titles," says Mr. Rush, "imparting validity (perhaps he means invalidity) to each other, does not often exist;"-"an observation," says

Mr. Bell," which might be safely carried a little further, by saying that such an union never existed before."

The great features in Canning's life were the part he took in arresting the current of revolutionary feelings in this country and upholding the continental war: the two sanguinary dramas that wrapped the close of the eighteenth century in gloom and sadness. The union with Ireland and the dissolution of the Pitt ministry were stepping-stones to his maturer fame. This was also the epoch of his marriage. The Addington administration and the short-lived Grenville ministry led the way to Canning's appointment to office as secretary of state for foreign affairs in the Perceval ministry. This was unfortunately the epoch of his duel with Lord Castlereagh. Parliamentary Reform, Catholic Emancipation, the Test Act, a comprehensive and most judicious system of foreign policy, and some domestic difficulties, more especially the ques tion of Queen Caroline, were among the most important subjects which occupied the palmiest days of this gifted patriot and statesman. Amidst all, Canning's passion for literature, Mr. Bell remarks truly, coloured his whole life. Every moment of leisure was given up to books. His eloquence was wonderful. In descriptive power, and in the higher uses of imagination, Canning certainly excelled all his contemporaries except Burke. He died, as is well known, in the same villa and the same room to which Fox, under circumstances painfully similar-that of an unanswered aspersion from a rising opposition-and by a further strange coincidence, at the same age, had also removed-to die. But Canning carried with him a more profound and universal respect. His public and private life were alike revered by all parties, and, in the words of his able biographer, "all jealousies and animosities were extinguished in the com. mon grief; and Faction herself wept upon his grave."

THE TRAVELS AND OPINIONS OF MR. JOLLY GREEN.

CHAP. VIII.

MONTMORENCY, as most travellers are aware, is a delightful village about twelve miles from Paris. It is equally the resort of the votaries of pleasure and of religion: the former go there to eat cherries and ride on donkeys, the latter to worship at the shrine of a celebrated saint and martyr named John James Rousseau, who dwelt there in a hermitage somewhere about the middle of the last century. He was one of the foremost of that race of pious men who devoted their energies to the religious education of their countrymen, the fruits of which were so conspicuous in the French Revolution. His "Confessions" are curious, and show to what an extent the devotional fervour of the recluse may impel him to self-torture; for I find in his works (written in French) that he was in the habit of sitting in a state of ecstacy-like a wild duck-in the water amidst the bushes ("au milieu des bois et des eaux"); and that it was his delight to write in windy weather, half-buried in the snow, with no other fire than he carried under his waistcoat, and weeping like a water-spout the whole time. It was under these circumstances, that in the course of three weeks he composed his well-known philosophical treatise on the use of spectacles, which he dedicated to a brother saint named D'Alembert. I am certain of this fact, for the original runs as follows:-"Dans ce lieu, sans abri contre le vent et la neige, sans autre feu que celui qui bruloit dessous mon gilet, je composai dans l'espace de trois semaines, ma lettre à D'Alembert sur les spectacles.-J'en versai de delicieuses larmes." This is a touching picture, and worthy of the great man who has portrayed it.

Cherries were out of season, but piety always flourishes in Paris, and donkeys abound everywhere; no better place than Montmorency could, therefore, have been hit on for the development of the national character, and it was with sensations of the liveliest pleasure, not unaccompanied, however, by some of those "horribles battemens de cœur," which Saint John James speaks of, that I descended to the salon where the party were to assemble for the excursion.

Madame de Vaudet and Angelique were already there, and both welcomed me very cordially. I was charmed with the grace and finish of their costume, and they were pleased to express their admiration at the calm simplicity of mine; for, thinking that I should probably have to ride through the forest, I had put on a scarlet hunting coat with leathers and tops-the same that I always wear when I turn out at home to see the East Surrey staghounds throw off near the Croydon station. The amiable mother and daughter were attired in Napoleon-blue Pompadours, with skirts à la Mousquetaire, fichus à la Genevoise, and chapeaux à la Gondy, a style of dress at once sylvan and striking.

We were soon joined by four more ladies, to whom I was formally presented. They were Madame de Pretantaine, a stylish, dashing person, with a very high colour and very black eyes; the Marchioness de Maquignon, a middle-aged lady whose lofty bearing and courtly air betrayed the Palais Royal in every movement, and her two daughters, Julie

and Estelle, fine girls, certainly, but not at all to be compared with Mademoiselle de Vaudet. The gentlemen of the party were the Viscount de Vieux Rusé, the Chevalier de l'Escroc, Don Juan de Picaro y Bribon, the Baron von Spitzbube, the Marquis de Maquignon, and the English baronet, Sir Henry Jones, who, in addition to the estimable qualities with which nature had endowed him, superadded the most salient characteristics of the distinguished foreigners above enumerated. Thus he was a match at billiards for the chevalier, readily pitted himself against the viscount at écarté, related adventures as wondrous as those of the Spaniard, smoked and drank as freely as the baron, and knew quite as much about a horse as the marquis, who, in the course of his life, had had a great deal to do with large studs, and took a pleasure in breeding expensive cattle. The personal appearance of Sir Henry Jones was highly distingué; he was tall and stout, with curly hair, blue eyes, a fine bulbous Saxon nose, an expansive countenance and a cheerful smile that welcomed every new acquaintance, and put them immediately at their ease. Sir Henry's pronunciation was somewhat rapid and indistinct, and amongst his predilections was a decided penchant for brandy-and-water. He had one or two amiable weaknesses, the most prominent of which were an unwillingness to hurt people's feelings by blurting out the truth on all occasions, and a fondness for bestowing the patronage of his custom on tradespeople of every description, without strictly scrutinising the accounts when sent in, or even heeding much about their settlement. So brilliant were his ideas of expenditure, that he made a point of never inquiring the price of any thing, and so liberal were his notions that, in the old days of stagecoaches, he had often contrived to run up a bill in a town where he was not known, during the brief interval of changing horses. It was partly owing to the indulgence of this rare generosity of disposition that he had been induced to leave his native country for a time, and fix his abode at one or other of the large cities on the continent, where, however, he never remained long enough to experience the ennui which too frequently arises from a protracted residence amongst the importunate classes of society. From these slight traits, it will at once be inferred, that he was highly popular; indeed, I believe, few persons have ever been so much sought for or inquired after. His name, too, was widely spread, even in places where his sojourn had been brief, for his property consisted chiefly in a species of assignats, a well-known valuable stock admirably adapted for a circulating medium, to which he constantly affixed the guarantee of his own signature. Some of this stock, not yet converted into cash, is at present in my own possession.

It

Such was our party, and as we mustered so strong, it was necessary that the carriage to convey us should be of rather large dimensions. was procured by the viscount from a celebrated establishment at the corner of the Place du Carrousel, and was called a gondole, a description of vehicle exactly corresponding with the Venetian gondola, with this difference only, that it went upon wheels, and was drawn by horses, whereas, if I am rightly informed, the other resembles a boat. The gondole is, in fact, a kind of daily omnibus (called in French an "omnibus à jour), with curtains which may be lowered at pleasure, and in which the passengers are seated on cross benches, holding three each.

Into this carriage we all got, and established ourselves in little parties quarrées, of six each, sitting opposite each other in threes. I had the