taste, without the intervention of dealers, or the dictum of self-constituted judges. In considering and rewarding the claims of high Art, and of every new candidate in historical painting, let them judge by the general talent evinced, rather than by the minute performance. All artists have their weak points for the vampires of criticism to riot upon; let the judgment embrace the whole, let it be generous and just. If there be unquestionable excellence in several parts, with defects which in a rising school there cannot fail to be, let them be balanced, and if the first preponderate ever so little, there can be no mistake as to talent in the artist, which must not be sacrificed to fastidious nicety, but encouraged and rewarded. Otherwise, we may have a succession of martyrs to historical Art, but we shall never have a school in that great national line of painting. Raphael's early works exhibit little more than the germs of his future excellence. It should be the object of the Institution to nurse such germs to maturity, because the public does not cherish them, from not being sufficiently advanced in the knowledge of this species of Art, which the directors of the Institution are, or rather were presumed to be. Excuses of want of room to exhibit large pictures are ridiculous, yet such shuffling pleas have been urged in defence of the Institution. Such pictures might be first exhibited, and then purchased for churches or halls, by the Institution, and in some cases, perhaps, be sold on its recommendation to public bodies. By this means the public taste would be improved, and a demand be gradually created for them. If the British Institution persevere in turning aside from the object of its formation, it will do mischief to Art. It will justly incur the censure of the country for raising funds to misapply them, and for a perversion of object derogatory to the character of its members. We recommend that it look to itself, for the eyes of all are upon it. We trust to see it return to the right track, and confer some little of that benefit upon high Art of which it set out with fair promises; and lastly, that it spurn from the management of its concerns any or all who substitute connoisseur-ship quackery for sound knowledge, and mingle the craft of money-making and jobbing with the serious duties annexed to every thing belonging tosuch an Institution. WRITTEN ON THE PLAINS OF CANNE. I CAME upon thee, as a common field, And the oft vanquish'd made the conqueror yield- Now sits that Queen of Empires, thence to build When her young eaglet knows his destiny, W. THE CLARENDON CORRESPONDENCE.* GENERALLY, as history is inevitably written, the amount of what we learn by it is rather the order than the concatenation of events. Of the ruling motives of the agents-of the immediate and conclusive causes which prompt them to action-of the numerous constituents which make up the integrity of what really brings about an event, we are, and must be content to be, mainly ignorant. The original actors are out of our reach, and were they within it, we could not look into their hearts, and they themselves seldom bare them to our gaze. The consequence is, that history, in spite of the diligence and even the dexterity of the artist, is full of obscurities—of unsatisfactory statements; every where we find causes assigned, which our common sense decides are incompetent or incompatible; and persons are perpetually appearing and disappearing, we know not how or why-exerting an influence at one time, the ground or extent of which we are not enabled to measure, and at another, and where perhaps we most expected to meet with them, apparently inactive, and the inactivity equally unaccounted for, -so that for the most part, and precisely at the most interesting points, we are thrown upon our own resources, our acquaintance with the common course of human motives, and the known results of their general complexities. The historian, for the probabilities he presents, must depend more on his own sagacity than the weight of his authorities; though, such is the essential uniformity of nature, that were he himself free from the bias of interest or prejudice, his narrative, pursued under her steady guidance, would perhaps seldom very widely deviate from the realities. Yet the difficulty of getting at exact circumstances is next to insurmountable, from the difficulty of getting correctly at the facts themselves. For how know we aught of the causes of events which are occurring in our own times? Mainly by the guesses of observers, who, perhaps, nine times out of ten get upon a wrong scent, and the farther they go the wider they stray; sometimes by the statements of immediate actors, who as often have a direct interest in misleading, and generally an indirect one in not fairly and fully communicating,-or by colleagues, who have their own views to serve, and are usually disposed to claim more than they have a right to,-or by confidants, or dependents, who must magnify their chief, and, in overshooting their mark, fortunately often defeat their unworthy object. Then how are we placed with respect to facts not resting at all upon contemporary evidence? Dependent entirely upon tradition, and tradition will, of course, carry nothing but the grosser materials-the finer subtilities, the nicer points, the shades, the sub-agencies, the collaterals are dropped in the passage-most men are bad carriers, too careless to bear any thing but the more bulky and adhesive commodities. With these, then, the historian must grapple; on these he must piece and patch; and how far the result is likely to correspond with the original texture of the stuff, is sufficiently obvious: that which is put in to fill up taketh from the garment, and the rent is made worse. But the sources of corruption lie not merely in the first materials, but mainly, we had almost said, in the principles and purposes of the historian, whether of nations or of individuals. The public historian has usually his own particular bias-his theory on the origin and even object of government and its institutions; and facts thus inevitably, for a strong bias operates insensibly, get twisted, or suppressed, or magnified, to establish a favourite hypothesis. Every party, and now-a-days more than ever, has its own historian-Southey for the Church of England, and Lingard for that of Rome -see how they force the same facts to their respective views; for, obviously The Correspondence of Henry Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, and of his Brother, Laurence Hyde, Earl of Rochester; with the Diary of Lord Clarendon from 1687 to 1690, containing minute particulars of the events attending the Revolution: and the Diary of Lord Rochester during his Embassy to Poland in 1676. Edited from the Original Manuscripts, with Notes, by Samuel Weller Singer, F.S.A. 2 vols. 4to. they set out with views, and instead of placing themselves under the control of the story, are themselves the controllers of it. The biographer, too, is generally the friend or admirer of his hero, and often avowedly withholds what will not tell in his favour, and justifies the withholding on the foolish maxim of "Nil nisi bonum de mortuis." If the party be essentially historical, the private life-the principles which appear to guide his every day concerns are kept out of sight, as if these were really not the very best sources of instruction that could be presented to us. We are thus basely deprived of the clues to the true character both of actions and agents. Establish fully and clearly one set of facts, and another may with some safety be deduced: if we knew more of individuals, we should oftener come to juster conclusions on public matters. As it is, by painting characters all good, or all bad, we break up the fences of morals, and the love of truth is sacrificed to blind admiration on the one hand, or treacherous enmity on the other. The best sources-by which we mean, the most untainted with suspicion— of intelligence relative to matters of public interest. are private papers, where the writer evidently writes not for display, but for record, and this is the case in some diaries; or where he corresponds in two quarters-officially and familiarly-with a minister, and a friend, and where both series are completely preserved. The only slippery ground then lies in the frailty and feebleness of the writer's judgment-for his veracity we have a guarantee. The Diary and Correspondence to which we are about to direct the reader's attention are of this character precisely. They refer, chiefly, to one of the most interesting periods of our history-the reign of James the Second-laying open his system of government, as exemplified in the management of Ireland, and recording the circumstances which preceded and attended the memorable invasion of William. The advantage of this? Take the Revolution: how stands that event in the general judgment? James is eager for the pre-eminence of Catholicism-he encroaches-the ecclesiastics get alarmed, and communicate their alarm-the very courtiers shrink-they join the opposition, and appeal to William for aid, and William accordingly comes professedly to assist with the weight of his influence and his arms in placing our religion and liberties on a basis of security. The King flies-the throne appears vacant-and William steps into it. Now, the experience, which the old-age of the world furnishes, convinces us that none, high or low, incur risk or labour, to any considerable extent, without a view to their own advantage: the fair inference, of course, is, that William came originally with the design of seizing the throne. But, probable as this is, we like to know the fact on positive evidence, if we can get it; and this can only be done from the agents themselves, directly or indirectly. Generally, the executors of great undertakings are themselves so full of their object-and such is the infirmity of most men-that they cannot wholly suppress some expression of them; or if, as was the case with William, they are endowed with any unusual degree of continence, one or other of their immediate agents and confidants and nothing can be executed without them-will be sure to slip out what plainly, or by implication, betrays the purpose; and these slippings and droppings will be caught up by some, and by some will be recorded. This Clarendon has done, and his Diary furnishes irresistible evidence of William's magnanimous views. But we must be somewhat more particular; and some account of the papers, and the authors, is indispensable. The name of Clarendon is a prepossessing one; none stands higher in the records of English story than the Chancellor's. He was, luckily for him, the herald of his own fame; and his own favourable tale has been accepted with singularly confiding acquiescence. A most powerful body, whose successful and almost sole patron he was at a most critical period, has gratefully and piously enshrined his character: his immaculate rectitude is with them an article of religion-to question it is, even still, scarcely, if at all, short of an act of heresy. Judged, indeed, by the principles of a more liberal policy, he must appear, to all who coolly examine his career, a bigot and a persecutor in religion, a jobber and profligate in politics, hostile to popular rights, and scarcely incorruptible in his own court. But he was loyal to the back-bone; and that one virtue, in the eyes of numbers, and especially in his own, involved and embraced every other. He never doubted his own superiority, moral or political. He had one criterion for public morals, and another for private. His domestic life was respectable and irreproachable; and the credit he thus deservedly gained for the one, he claimed without a scruple, and it was allowed without suspicion or reserve, for the other. Mr. Agar Ellis has recently given his merits a considerable shake; and, indeed, it is high time that the characters of kings, and ministers, and priests, be judged more rigorously, and by the very principles by which the actions of private individuals in private life are judged. Morality, with respect to which there is so much empty profession, is corrupted in its sources, by the allowances which are every where made and justified for the obliquities of public station. The The marriage of the Chancellor's daughter with the King's brother paved the way for the advancement of his sons. His prudent and sober sentiments, and steady industry, were carefully inculcated on them from their earliest years; a public career was obviously open to them, and no time was lost in introducing them into it. Henry and Laurence were but just of age on the Restoration, and they were both forthwith brought into Parliament. Their father's final dismissal scarcely checked the course of either—not at all that of the younger; and even the elder retained his office of Chamberlain to the Queen. Both of them eventually filled some of the most eminent offices of the state. Henry was Privy Seal, and Laurence, Lord Treasurer; and each of them Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The father had all his life been indefatigable in recording events, and Henry and Laurence both insensibly fell into the same practice of noting and commenting on daily occurrences. relics of their papers, diaries, and correspondence, are now presented to the public in the most complete condition of which they are susceptible. Douglas, Bishop of Salisbury, about sixty years ago, published that portion of them which belonged to the oldest, from copies not always correctly given; these are now reprinted from the originals, and the Bishop's omissions supplied; to which are also added, for the first time, the correspondence, and a diary of the younger brother, (Earl of Rochester,) the whole having been recovered by the vigilance of Mr. Wm. Upcott, of the London Institution, from a "lady who inherited them from persons nearly connected with the noble family of Hyde." Of the authenticity of any part of these papers no doubt whatever can be entertained. The most interesting portion of them is unquestionably that which was published by the Bishop of Salisbury; consisting of Henry's correspondence, during his Irish Lieutenancy, with the Minister Sunderland, and his own brother, (the Treasurer); and the diary, which extends through the years 1688 and 1689. To the greater part of readers, the whole of these original documents will be perfectly new-for the old publication is not readily accessible; and the Irish correspondence is, more than ever, calculated to arrest attention. The evils which afflicted Ireland are, in principle and effect, still the same. It is lamentable to contemplate the condition of that distracted country-sacrificed at all times to selfish and sordid considertions-the party-spirit in which it has always been governed-the contentions and conflictions—the minglings of the secular and the sacred-the oppressions and persecutions, and all under the solemn sanctions of religion. The correspondence will furnish fresh proofs of James's headlong career,— his resolutions, if not to rule absolutely, at least to rule by none but Catholics. Henry, (who succeeded, on his father's death, to the Earldom of Clarendon,) from a very early age had acted as his father's private secretary; and on the Restoration, as we have said, was introduced to Parliament, and on the settlement of the Queen's establishment, was appointed her Chamberlain. Persecuted as his father appeared to have been, partly, at least, on her ac count, she seems to have taken the young Chamberlain under her especial protection, though in after-years we find her, even before the Council, contesting his claims to some arrears, or privilege of office; and Clarendon himself, complaining, in a tone of bitterness, of her refusing what his predecessors had enjoyed, and what she herself had allowed to his own successor. Indignant at his father's treatment, he, apparently in the very teeth of his immediate interests-holding office as he did-boldly, or at least with less reserve than his more cautious brother, opposed the measures of the ministry, consisting chiefly of his father's personal enemies. On one occasion, he entered his protest against the address on the King's speech; and on another, urging the dismissal of Buckingham, he publicly declared him to have "murdered the husband (Lord Shrewsbury), and to be living in perpetual adultery with the miserable woman ;" and was still more conspicuous in supporting the address for removing Arlington. Throughout his opposition to the ministry, he had, however, on all occasions testified his attachment to the Duke of York, his brother-in-law; and on the effort of the country party to exclude him from the succession, his exertions proved of the highest importance to his patron. James's growing influence with his brother at length introduced Clarendon into the Council; and on his own accession, he forthwith appointed his friend Privy Seal, and in a few months added the important office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Though ready, in the abundance of his loyalty, to forward James's views, political and even religious-he flinched from the undisguised course which he and his more violent counsellors were resolved to pursue; and, in consequence, at the end of a twelvemonth, he was recalled, and in a few months more deprived of the Privy Seal, which was transferred to a more thorough-going partizan. Persevering in his adherence to the Church, he became gradually more and more estranged, till at last, on the landing of William, when his own son went over with the greater part of three regiments, Clarendon himself-his high speculative Tory principles giving way somewhat, as they usually do, when the necessity for action comes-joined the Prince also. William's avowed purpose was to secure the constitutional government of the country by means of a parliament; and Clarendon, with a simplicity almost ludicrous, gave him and his supporters full credit for the utmost moderation, and especially the Prince, for perfect disinterestedness. The poor man was struck with surprise and horror, when, mingling in the throng of William's attendants, he found one talking with ecstasy of the King's flight, and the turbulent Burnet of a vacant throne-no treaty-no parliament-no terms even were to be kept-all looking upon William already as King. In the convention he voted for a regency; and finally, refusing to take the oaths of allegiance, and after more than once being thrown into the Tower on a charge of plotting with the enemies of the new Government, and certainly keeping up a correspondence with the exiled James, he withdrew to the country, and lived in perfect retirement till 1709. The character of the man shows fair enough through the correspondence. He appears to have been an honourable and well-meaning person, according to the measure of his intellect and intelligence, though occasions occur which amusingly contrast his professions and practice-the discrepancies evidently escaped him. Brought up in the profoundest veneration for royalty, he could look with no temper upon rebels, or the connexions of rebels. As the son himself of an eminent loyalist, superiority of virtue was his inheritance; and it manifestly never entered his brain to question the supremacy this native quality conferred on him. Unenlightened on public principles, the same narrowness and severity marked him in his domestic relations, though tempered by the kindness of his nature, and an irrepressible sense of propriety. Of the legitimate foundations of a civilized government, he had scarcely any conception; the rights of kings were of that sacred and supreme cast, that nothing but duties seemed left for the subject. The King's friends were entitled to the King's favours; fitness for office was no part of a loyal consideration, and connection was all in all in the distribution of appointments. |