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ter?" she said, in a tone that thrilled with by the sentence of my peers,-to them I astonishment all the courtiers who stood will plead, and not to a princess who thus around. Stand forth, my Lord of Leices-requites my faithful service."

ter!"

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"What! my lords," said Elizabeth, looking around, "we are defied, I think,—defied in the Castle we have ourselves bestowed on this proud man!-My Lord Shrewsbury, you are Marshal of England, attach him of

If in the midst of the most serene day of summer, when all is light and laughing around, a thunderbolt were to fall from the clear blue vault of heaven, and rend the earth at the very feet of some careless trav-high treason." eller, he could not gaze upon the smouldering chasm, which so unexpectedly yawned before him, with half the astonishment and fear which Leicester felt at the sight that so suddenly presented itself. He had that instant been receiving, with a political affectation of disavowing and misunderstanding their meaning, the half-uttered, half-inti--I say, villain, make haste!" mated commendations of the courtiers upon the favour of the Queen, carried apparently to its highest pitch during the interview of that morning; from which most of them seemed to augur that he might soon arise from their equal in rank to become their master. And now, while the subdued yet proud smile with which he disclaimed those inferences was yet curling his cheek, the Queen shot into the circle, her passions excited to the uttermost; and, supporting with one hand, and apparently without an effort, the pale and sinking form of his almost expiring wife, and pointing with the finger of the other to her half-dead features, demanded in a voice that sounded to the ears of the astounded statesman like the last dread trumpet call, that is to summon body and spirit to the judgment-seat, "Knowest thou this woman?"

Whom does your Grace mean?" said Shrewsbury, much surprised, for he had that instant joined the astonished circle.

"Whom should I mean, but that traitor Dudley, Earl of Leicester !-Cousin of Hunsdon, order out your band of gentlemen-pensioners, and take him into instant custody.

As, at the blast of that last trumpet the guilty shall call upon the mountains to cover them, Leicester's inward thoughts invoked the stately arch which he had built in his pride, to burst its strong conjunction, and overwhelm them in its ruins. But the cemented stones, architrave and battlement, stood fast; and it was the proud master himself, who, as if some actual pressure had bent him to the earth, kneeled down before Elizabeth, and prostrated his brow to the marble flag-stones on which he stood.

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"Leicester," said Elizabeth, in a voice which trembled with passion, "could I think thou hast practised on me,-on thy sovereign-on me thy confiding, thy too partial mistress, the base and ungrateful deception which thy present confusion surmises, by all that is holy, false lord, that head of thine were in as great peril as ever was thy father's!"

Leicester had not conscious innocence, but he had pride, to support him. He raised slowly his brow and features, which were black and swollen with contending emotions, and only replied, "My head cannot fall but

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Hunsdon, a rough old noble, who, from his relationship to the Boleyns, was accustomed to use more freedom with the Queen than al most any other dared to do, replied bluntly, "And it is like your Grace might order me to the Tower to-morrow for making too much haste. I do beseech you to be patient."

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"Patient,-God's life!" exclaimed the Queen,-" name not the word to me,—thou know'st not of what he is guilty!"

Amy, who had by this time in some degree recovered herself, and who saw her husband, as she conceived, in the utmost danger from the rage of an offended Sovereign, instantly (and alas! how many women have done the same!) forgot her own wrongs, and her own danger, in her apprehensions for him, and throwing herself before the Queen, embraced her knees, while she exclaimed, "He is guiltless, madam, he is guiltless, no one can lay aught to the charge of the noble Leicester!" Kenilworth, Chap. xxxiv.

JOSIAH QUINCY, LL.D.,

a son of Josiah Quincy, Junior (an eminent American patriot, born 1744, died 1775), was born in Boston, Massachusetts, Feb. 4, 1772, filled many important political positions; was President of Harvard College, 18291845, and died at his country-seat at Quincy, Massachusetts (the residence of his family for more than two centuries), July 1, 1864. He was the author of Memoir of the Life of Josiah Quincy, Jun., Bost., 1825, 8vo; The History of Harvard University, Bost., 1840, 2 vols. 8vo. 2d edit., Bost., 1860, 2 vols. 8vo; The History of the Boston Athenæum, with Biographical Notices of its Deceased Founders, Bost., 1851, 8vo; A Municipal History of the Town and City of Boston During Two Centuries: From September 17, 1630, to September 17, 1830, Bost., 1830, 8vo;

Memoir of the Life of John Quincy Adams, Bost., 1858, 8vo; Essays on the Soiling of Cattle, Illustrated by Experience, etc., Bost., 1859, 8vo, 2d edit., 1860, new edit., 1866, 8vo. He also published many Addresses, Speeches, etc., and from one of these minor publications we present an extract.

"Few men have acquired so just a distinction for unspotted integrity, fearless justice, consistent principles, high talents, and extensive literature. Still fewer possess the merit of having justified the public confidence by the singleness of heart and purpose with which they have devoted themselves to the best interests of society."-JUDGE JOSEPH STORY: Dedication of Story's Miscellaneous Works to the Hon. Josiah Quincy, LL.D., October, 1835.

THE CHARACTER OF NEW ENGLAND. If, after this general survey of the surface of New England, we cast our eyes on its cities and great towns, with what wonder should we behold, did not familiarity render the phenomenon almost unnoticed, men, combined in great multitudes, possessing freedom and the consciousness of strength, -the comparative physical power of a ruler less than that of a cobweb across a lion's path,—yet orderly, obedient, and respectful to authority; a people, but no populace; every class in reality existing which the general law of society acknowledges, except one, and this exception characterizing the whole country. The soil of New England is trodden by no slave. In our streets, in our assemblies, in the halls of election and legislation, men of every rank and condition meet, and unite or divide on other principles, and are actuated by other motives than those growing out of such distinctions. The fears and jealousies which in other countries separate classes of men, and make them hostile to each other, have here no influence, or a very limited one. Each individual, of whatever condition, has the consciousness of living under known laws, which secure equal rights, and guarantee to each whatever portion of the goods of life, be it great or small, chance or talent or industry may have bestowed. All perceive that the honors and rewards of society are open equally to the fair competition of all,-that the distinctions of wealth, or of power, are not fixed in families, that whatever of this nature exists to-day may be changed to-morrow, or, in a coming generation, be absolutely reversed. Common principles, interests, hopes, and affections are the result of universal education. Such are the consequences of the equality of rights, and of the provisions for the general diffusion of knowledge, and the distribution of intestate estates, established by the laws framed by the earliest emigrants to New England.

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If from our cities we turn to survey the wide expanse of the interior, how do the effects of the institutions and example of our early ancestors appear, in all the local comfort and accommodation which mark the general condition of the whole country!unobtrusive indeed, but substantial; in nothing splendid, but in everything sufficient and satisfactory. Indications of active talent and practical energy exist everywhere. With a soil comparatively little luxuriant, and in great proportion either rock, or hill, or sand, the skill and industry of man are seen triumphing over the obstacles of nature: making the rock the guardian of the field; moulding the granite as though it were clay : leading cultivation to the hill-top, and spreading over the arid plain hitherto unknown and unanticipated harvests. The lofty mansion of the prosperous adjoins the lowly dwelling of the husbandman; their respective inmates are in the daily interchange of civility, sympathy, and respect. Enterprise and skill, which once held chief affinity with the ocean or the sea-board, now begin to delight the interior, haunting our rivers, where the music of the waterfall, with powers more attractive than those of the fabled harp of Orpheus, collects around it intellectual man and material nature. Towns and cities, civilized and happy communities, rise, like exhalations, on rocks and in forests, till the deep and far-sounding voice of the neighboring torrent is itself lost and unheard, amid the predominating noise of successful and rejoicing labor.

What lessons has New England, in every period of her history, given to the world! What lessons do her condition and example still give! How unprecedented, yet how practical! How simple, yet how powerful! She has proved that all the variety of Christian sects may live together in harmony under a government which allows equal privileges to all, exclusive pre-eminence to none. She has proved that ignorance among the multitude is not necessary to order, but that the surest basis of perfect order is the information of the people. She has proved the old maxim, that “No government except a despotism with a standing army can subsist where the people have arms," to be false. Ever since the first settlement of the country arms have been required to be in the hands of the whole multitude of New England; yet the use of them in a private quarrel, if it have ever happened, is so rare that a late writer of great intelligence, who had passed his whole life in New England and possessed extensive means of information, declares, "I know not a single instance of it." [See Travels in New England and New York, by Timothy Dwight, S.T.D.,

LL.D., late President of Yale College, vol. iv., p. 334. Foot-note.] She has proved that a people of a character essentially military may subsist without duelling. New England has at all times been distinguished both on the land and on the ocean for a daring, fearless, and enterprising spirit; yet the same writer asserts [ibid., p. 336] that, during the whole period of her existence her soil has been disgraced but by five duels, and that only two of these were fought by her native inhabitants! Perhaps this assertion is not minutely correct. There can, however, be no question that it is sufficiently near the truth to justify the position for which it is here adduced, and which the history of New England, as well as the experience of her inhabitants, abundantly confirms, that, in the present and in every past age the spirit of our institutions has, to every important practical purpose, annihilated the spirit of duelling.

Such are the true glories of the institutions of our fathers! Such the natural fruits of that patience in toil, that frugality of disposition, that temperance of habit, that general diffusion of knowledge, and that sense of religious responsibility, inculcated by the precepts, and exhibited in the example, of every generation of our ancestors!

The great comprehensive truths, written in letters of living light on every page of our history, the language addressed by every past age of New England to all future ages, is this: Human happiness has no perfect security but freedom; freedom, none but virtue; virtue, none but knowledge; and neither freedom, nor virtue, nor knowledge has any vigor, or immortal hope, except in the principles of the Christian faith, and in the sanctions of the Christian religion.

Men of Massachusetts! citizens of Boston! descendants of the early emigrants! consider your blessings; consider your duties. You have an inheritance acquired by the labors and sufferings of six successive generations of ancestors. They founded the fabric of your prosperity in a severe and masculine morality, having intelligence for its cement, and religion for its groundwork. Continue to build on the same foundation, and by the same principles; let the extending temple of your country's freedom rise, in the spirit of ancient times, in proportions of intellectual and moral architecture,-just, simple, and sublime. As from the first to this day, let New England continue to be an example to the world of the blessings of a free government, and of the means and capacity of man to maintain it. And in all times to come, as in all times past, may Boston be among the foremost and the boldest

to exemplify and uphold whatever constitutes the prosperity, the happiness, and the glory of New England.

Address to the Citizens of Boston, XVII. September, MDCCCXXX., the Close of the Second Century from the First Settlement of the City, Bost., 1830, 8vo.

FRANCIS JEFFREY, born in Edinburgh, 1773, educated at the University of Glasgow and at Queen's College, Oxford, was admitted an advocate at the Scotch bar 1794; was editor of The Edinburgh Review (of which he was with Henry Brougham and Sydney Smith a cofounder), July, 1803, to June, 1829, Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow, 1820, Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, June, 1829, Lord Advocate, 1830, member of Parliament, 1831-1834, Judge in the Scotch Court of Session, with the title of Lord Jeffrey, from 1834 until his death, 1850.

To The Edinburgh Review he contributed 200 articles,-No. I, being the first article in the first number, October, 1802, and No. 200, published January, 1848. Of these, 79 were published together as Contributions to the Edinburgh Review, London, 1843, 4 vols. 8vo, 2d edit., 1846, 3 vols. 8vo, 3d edit., 1853, 8vo. The 121 remaining articles should be collected. His article on Beauty, republished, with alterations, in the Encyclopædia Britannica, will be found in the Contributions to the Edinburgh Review.

the theory of taste, it is the most complete in its "Of all the treatises that have been published on philosophy and the most delightful in its writing; and it is as sound as the subject admits of."-LORD COCKBURN: Life of Lord Jeffrey, vol. i.

"Few works of the kind are more questionable in the principle, or more loose in the arrangement and argument."-LYALL: Agonistes, or Philosoph. Strictures, etc., Lond., 1856, 18-44.

writer: he has few tropes or figures, still less any "Mr. Jeffrey is far from a flowery or affected odd startling thoughts or quaint innovations in expression; but he has a constant supply of ingenious solutions and pertinent examples; he never proses, never grows dull, never wears an argument facility of his transitions, keeps that appearance of vivacity, of novel and sparkling effect, for which others are too often indebted to singularity of com. bination or tinsel ornaments."-HAZLITT: Spirit of the Age. See also Selections from the Correspondence of the late Macvey Napier, Esq. Edited by His Son, Macvey Napier. London, 1879, 8vo. Index, p. 548.

to tatters: and by the number, the liveliness, and

PROGRESS OF ENGLISH LITerature.

By far the most considerable change which has taken place in the world of letters, in

our days, is that by which the wits of Queen Anne's time have been gradually brought down from the supremacy which they had enjoyed, without competition for the best part of a century. When we were at our studies, some twenty-five years ago, we can perfectly remember that every young man was set to read Pope, Swift, and Addison as regularly as Virgil, Cicero, and Horace. All who had any tincture of letters were familiar with their writings and their history; allusions to them abounded in all popular discourses and all ambitious conversation; and they and their contemporaries were universally acknowledged as our great models of excellence, and placed without challenge at the head of our national literature. New books, even when allowed to have merit, were never thought of as fit to be placed in the same class, but were generally read and forgotten, and passed away like the transitory meteors of a lower sky; while they remained in their brightness, and were supposed to shine with a fixed and unalterable glory.

cause they are not good enough. Now, we confess we are not believers in the absolute and permanent corruption of national taste: on the contrary, we think that it is, of all faculties, that which is most sure to advance and improve with time and experience; and that, with the exception of those great physical or political disasters which have a check to civilization itself, there has always been a sensible progress in this particular: and that the general taste of every successive generation is better than that of its predecessors. There are little capricious fluctuations, no doubt, and fits of foolish ad miration or fastidiousness, which cannot be so easily accounted for: but the great movements are all progressive; and though the progress consists at one time in withholding toleration from gross faults, and at another in giving their high prerogative to great beauties, this alteration has no tendency to obstruct the general advance; but, on the contrary, is the best and the safest course in which it can be conducted.

All this, however, we take it, is now pretty We are of opinion, then, that the writers well altered; and in so far as persons of our who adorned the beginning of the last cenantiquity can judge of the training and tury have been eclipsed by those of our own habits of the rising generation, those cele- time; and that they have no chance of ever brated writers no longer form the manual of regaining the supremacy in which they have our studious youth, or enter necessarily into been supplanted. There is not, however, in the institution of a liberal education. Their our judgment, anything very stupendous in names, indeed, are still familiar to our ears; this triumph of our contemporaries; and but their writings no longer solicit our habit- the greater wonder with us is that it was so ual notice, and their subjects begin already long delayed, and left for them to achieve. to fade from our recollection. Their high For the truth is, that the writers of the privileges and proud distinctions, at any rate, former age had not a great deal more than have evidently passed into other hands. It their judgment and industry to stand on; is no longer to them that the ambitious look and were always much more remarkable for up with envy, or the humble with admira- the fewness of their faults than the greattion; nor is it in their pages that the pre-ness of their beauties. Their laurels were tenders to wit and eloquence now search for allusions that are sure to captivate, and illustrations that cannot be mistaken. In this decay of their reputation they have few advocates, and no imitators: and, from a comparison of many observations, it seems to be clearly ascertained that they are declined considerably from "the high meridian of their glory," and may fairly be apprehended to be hastening to their setting." Neither is it time alone that has wrought this obscuration; for the fame of Shakspeare still shines in undecaying brightness and that of Bacon has been steadily advancing and gathering new honours during the whole period which has witnessed the rise and decline of less vigorous successors.

There are but two possible solutions for phenomena of this sort. Our taste has either degenerated, or its old models have been fairly surpassed: and we have ceased to admire the writers of the last century only because they are too good for us, or be

won much more by good conduct and discipline, than by enterprising boldness or native force; nor can it be regarded as any very great merit in those who had so little of that inspiration of genius, to have steered clear of the dangers to which that inspiration is liable. Speaking generally of that generation of authors, it may be said that. as poets, they had no force or greatness of fancy,-no pathos, and no enthusiasm ;and, as philosophers, no comprehensiveness, depth, or originality. They are sagacious, no doubt, neat, clear, and reasonable, but for the most part, cold, timid, and superficial. They never meddle with the great scenes of nature, or the great passions of man; but content themselves with just and sarcastic representations of city life, and of the paltry passions and meaner vices that are bred in that lower element. Their chief care is to avoid being ridiculous in the eyes of the witty, and above all to eschew the ridicule of excessive sensibility or enthusiasm,-to

be at once witty and rational themselves, with as good a grace as possible; but to give their countenance to no wisdom, no fancy, and no morality which passes the standards current in good company. Their inspiration, accordingly, is nothing more than a sprightly sort of good sense; and they have scarcely any invention but what is subservient to the purposes of derision and satire. Little gleams of pleasantry and sparkles of wit glitter through their compositions; but no glow of feeling-no blaze of imagination-no flashes of genius ever irradiate their substance. They never pass beyond" the visible diurnal sphere," or deal in any thing that can either lift us above our vulgar nature, or ennoble its reality. With these accomplishments, they may pass well enough for sensible and polite writers, but scarcely for men of genius; and it is certainly far more surprising that persons of this description should have inaintained themselves for near a century, at the head of the literature of a country that had previously produced a Shakspeare, a Spenser, a Bacon, and a Taylor, than that, towards the end of that long period, doubts should have arisen as to the legitimacy of a title by which they laid claim to that high station. Both parts of the phenomenon, however, we dare say, had causes which better expounders might explain to the satisfaction of all the world. We see them but imperfectly, and have room only for an imperfect sketch of what we see.

Our first literature consisted of saintly legends and romances of chivalry, though Chaucer gave it a more national and popular character, by his original descriptions of external nature, and the familiarity and gaiety of his social humour. In the time of Elizabeth it received a copious infusion of classical images and ideas; but it was still intrinsically romantic, serious, and even somewhat lofty and enthusiastic. Authors were then so few in number that they were looked upon with a sort of veneration, and considered as a kind of inspired persons; at least they were not yet so numerous as to be obliged to abuse each other, in order to obtain a share of distinction for themselves; and they neither affected a tone of derision in their writings, nor wrote in fear of derision from others. They were filled with their subjects, and dealt with them fearlessly in their own way; and the stamp of originality, force, and freedom is consequently upon almost all their productions. In the reign of James I. our literature, with some few exceptions, touching rather the form than the substance of its merits, appears to us to have reached the greatest perfection to which it has yet attained; though

it would probably have advanced still farther in the succeeding reign had not the great national dissensions which then arose turned the talent and energy of the people into other channels,-first to the assertion of their civil rights, and afterwards to the discussion of their religious interests. The graces of literature suffered of course in those fierce contentions, and a deeper shade of austerity was thrown upon the intellectual character of the nation. Her genius, however, though less captivating and adorned than in the happier days which preceded, was still active, fruitful, and commanding; and the period of the civil wars, besides the mighty minds that guided the public counsels, and were absorbed in public cares, produced the giant powers of Taylor, and Hobbes, and Barrow,-the muse of Milton, the learning of Coke, and the ingenuity of Cowley.

The Restoration introduced a French court, under circumstances more favourable for the effectual exercise of court influence than ever before existed in England; but this of itself would not have been sufficient to account for the sudden change in our literature which ensued. It was seconded by causes of far more general operation. The Restoration was undoubtedly a popular act; and, indefensible as the conduct of the army and the civil leaders was on that occasion, there can be no question that the severities of Cromwell and the extravagances of the sectaries had made republican professions hateful and religious ardour ridiculous, in the eyes of a great proportion of the people. All the eminent writers of the preceding period, however, had inclined to the party that was now overthrown, and their writings had not merely been accommodated to the character of the government under which they were produced, but were deeply imbued with its obnoxious principles, which were those of their respective authors. When the restraints of authority were taken off, therefore, and it became profitable, as well as popular, to discredit the fallen party, it was natural that the leading authors should affect a style of levity and derision, as most opposite to that of their opponents, and best calculated for the purposes they had in view. The nation, too, was now for the first time essentially divided in point of character and principle, and a much greater proportion were capable both of writing in support of their own notions and of being influenced by what was written. Add to this, that there were real and serious defects in the style and manner of the former generation. and that the grace, and brevity, and vivacity of that gayer manner, which was now introduced from France, were not only good and captivating in themselves, but had then all

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