LORD DUDLEY'S LETTERS TO DR. COPLESTOIC THE late Earl of

DUDLEY and WARD was for upwards of thirty years on terms of the greatest intimacy with Dr. COPLESTON, the present Bishop of LLANDAFF ; consulting him upon any event of importance, and. pouring out his thoughts upon public or pri- vate affairs, and national or natural characteristics, with all the

freedom of the most intimate friendship, tempered by the taste and caution which never forsake the thoroughbred gentleman. After the lapse of six years from his decease, the Bishop thought

that " some memorial of the character and literary talents of a man so distinguished in society" would be well received. He accordingly announced the publication of his Letters ; one vohmte of which was printed when the executors of' Lord DUDLEY for- bade the publication ; and the Bishop was obliged to submit, for the Court of Chancery would beyond all doubt have granted

them an injunction. Some months after this, the letters already printed were shown to " an intimate friend of' the 'deceased, and in the same rank of life." Luckily, this individual had the good

taste to perceive their value, and the injustice that would be done to Lord DUDLEY'S fame by their suppression ; and by his inter- ference with the executors, the letters actually printed were allowed to appear.

We reserve all remarks upon the law of the case, or the strange conduct of the executors, till we have dismissed the volume. The letters contained in it extend from 1814 till 1823 ; the first year

distinguished by the downfal of NAPOLEON, and the second by the accession of CANNING to Lord CASTLEREAGH'S office. The sub-

jects handled are very various. Sometimes a judgment on the nature of' Oxford dignitaries; sometimes a particular or general criticism, or a remark on life. Very frequently they discuss the

public events of the day, or they slightly touch off particular de- bates at which the writer had 'assisted." A considerable por- tion of the correspondence consists of remarks on foreign scenery and manners—for Lord DUDLEY made several Continental tours during the period; France after the first return of the Bourbons, Italy when NAPOLEON escaped from Elba, the Low Countries, anti Germany. A good deal of personal matter, of the nature of auto- biography, is also scattered about, with a variety of miscellaneous topics far too many to be enumerated. • The style and matter are alike admirable. Lord DUDLEY was by education a gentleman and a scholar ; he had by nature a very nice perception, or sound judgment, and a lively and pleasant genius. The same power had bestowed upon him the germ of a refined taste, which he had cultivated by the study of the best models till it became too delicate for the worldly advantage of the owner. Applied to externals, it enabled him to pass the nicest judgment upon books or men ; but his judgment was too nice for himself. He revolted at that coarseness which is found in all affairs ; his critical perception enabled him to see all the difficulties of an undertaking ; and the same quality induced him. to scan himself and his productions with a searching eye, whilst he was doubtful of the merits he really possessed. Circumstances height- ened the injurious effects of this idiosyneracy. His means were ample, so that he was not spurred by necessity to exert himself in active life. His health was delicate, and obnoxious to all the skiey influences ; and "bodily indisposition was," to quote his own words, " always accompanied by mental languor, and a desire to put off the easiest and most obvious duties and occupations." Probably always, sometimes evidently, the effects of that dreadful malady which rendered restraint necessary, and eventually terminated his exist- ence in the maturity of life, was operating unseen and unsus- pected. Hence it followed, that his realized eminence either in politics or literature was not equal to his powers, his opportunities, or the expectations formed of him. And this character, we sus- pect, is not so rare as is supposed. SIIAKSPERE has embodied in Hmlet the generic features of' the class. Though excited by the highest motives and by supernatural promptings, the Prince of Denmark originates no line of conduct, either In privy conspiracy, rebellion, or personal deed. From seine peculiarity of mind or organization, this class is too refined, or too philosophical, or both, for spontaneous action. It is not, as GoisrnE, we think, foolishly observes, that Hamlet was unequal to the task imposed upon him. Such men are equal to any thing, if responsibility and necessity enforce them to act—they see and strike with the rapidity of lightning. The Prince of Denmark discovers no hesitation in dealing with Polonius, or with Rosenerantz and Guildenstern, or with the King at the last. When CANNING persuaded Lord DUDLEY to commit himself to the Foreign Office, and the old Ultra Peers roused his spirit, he surprised the Lords and the public by the firmness of his bearing and the polished dexterity of his thrust. Once embarked in any thing where they must act, they carry out the affair in a complete manner ; and if engaged in a regular bust- ness, habit overcomes in a degree the influence of' nature herself. But, as we have said already, such men scarcely ever originate courses of conduct. Perhaps pride and delicacy, in addition to the more hidden peculiarities, restrain them from hawking them-

selves about in the guise of intruding adventurers, to encounter the risk of failure.

A curious question arises—whether such minds, when addicted to literature, could, or more truly would, produce any great and sustained work, such as Lord DUDLEY sometimes seems to have thought of We incline to think not. They have no sufficient motive : the lurking melancholy in their blood indisposes them to spontaneous exertion, and darkens their estimate of their own powers; whilst their critical taste detects all actual faults, and all those commonplaces, of which, according to llnyNoLvs, the greater part of great works must consist. But they are likely to excel in shorter pieces—things that must be struck off at a heat, and where they are not required to continue to weariness, to exhaust.the sub- ject, or to risk failure. Such are letters and if there be any truth in the theory we put forth, the volume before us confirms it. Allow- ance must always be made for the interest of contemporary topics, and the effects of a style akin to that of the day : but, with this drawback to our decision, we rate these Letters of Lord Dmlley as among the best in the language ; surpassed only, if surpassed they be, by those of GIIMION. 'They are %minar but refined in tone ; easy, pointed, and spirited in style ; of great variety in topics ; and full of appropriate matter. How full, how various, and how spirited, can only be told by extracts; which we shall take freely, beginning with more miscellaneous topics.

LORD DUDLEY ON OXFORD.

will not abuse the University to its ablest defender—indeed, I have no inclination to do so ; but I must be allowed to say, that of all persons with whom I ever was acquainted, Churchmen resident at 0.tford have always ap- peared the most determined enemies to every species of salutary change. With all the influence that character and talents can give, you will produce but little effect upon them. They are not the materials from which converts are made. Improvement must be forced upon them, as it ever has been, from with- out. Do you think, for instance, that if Adam Smith and Gibbon had not attacked them—to say nothing of twenty other less celebrated persons—and if the world had not begun to cry out shame, you ever would have had the new statute ? though the necessity of it had been just as manifest for fifty years before, as at the moment when it was passed. Certainly not ; and so of all the rest. But the public is further advanced, and by no means so intractable. The fhte of Lord Harrowby's bill is a proof of this. In Parliament—which, after all, is a pretty fair echo of the public voice—it passed. In Convocation it would have been infallibly rejected. In short, it must be admitted, that what- ever other merits the University may possess, liberality, and a willingness to adapt institutions to the state of the country, are not among them. .Perhaps it is useful that there shoulhi be a body of that sort to prevent any change from taking place too fast. Though it is no slight or doubtful advantage that could counterbalance that enormous evil of which, for so many years, Oxford was the cause—that of teaching little else but idleness and drunkenness to half the young men in the country, of whose education it is in a manner the joint patentee with its sister institution.

In 1814, Lord DUDLEY (then Mr. WARD) wrote for the Quar- terly a review of Miss EDGEWORTH'S " Patronage ;" with which, when done, he was little satisfied, and requested his friend's criti- cism upon the critique. This part of the correspondence gives one a peep behind the scenes as to the management of that Review, and exhibits WARD'S estimate of GirFoan, which sounds depre- ciatory and odd. ,41 am really obliged to you for the trouble you have been so good to take about my paper on Miss E. I have adopted some words you inserted; and as I agree with you in thinking that I had not done sufficient justice to her power of delineating characters and manners, I have added a laudatory page on that subject. The censures I passed upon the structure of her story I have allowed to stand ; for on that point, I am, after reflection disposed to adhere to my original opinion. Gifford has got it. What he will propose to alter, I know not ; nor do I much care, provided he suffers me to make them myself, and does not insert any thing of his own—which is, generally speaking, not good for much. His prose is remarkably inferior to his poetry. " I was preparing to snake a vigorous defence of Miss E. from the canting hypocritical accusation against her on the score of religion, when luckily I be- thought myself of turning back to the two former papers on Miss E. in the Q. It., in which I found this charge preferred with great earnestness and so- lemnity. Both the critiques are wretched ; and I should not the least have minded contradicting flatly any doctrine, literary, moral, or reli- gious, contained in them, had I not just at the sometime, to my great surprise, accidentally learnt from Murray, (who told inc with a mixture of lamentation and contempt, comical enough for such a personage,) that these passages were of Gifford's own manufacture, and inserted, pro sulute unima,, at his particular instance, in an article furnished by that "serious young man" the younger Stephen. Of course there was nothing for it but to puss over the topic in de- cent silence. However, I am glad you see the thing in the same point of view that I do. It is indeed an odd complaint against a novel, to say that it an't a sermon upon doctrinal points."

LORD DUDLEY ON C/11111CII PROPERTY AND THE ARISTOCRACY.

At present the people complain everywhere of distress arising from the vast and long wars Bonaparte waged, and from the total stagnation of commerce. But wherever I have been, agriculture is extremely prosperous. All the way to Paris, I did not see a piece of uncultivated or ill .cultivated land. You may doubt my judgment in rural matters, even when assisted by the gallant Mem- ber for Tipperary ; but there are certain appearances that cannot be mistaken by the most unpractised eye. The corn is quite free from weeds, the earth is tilled like garden-mould ; they have a noble breed of draught-horses ; and, in short, the country looks like those parts of our island that are most famous for good farming—East Lothian, Berwickshire, and the Scotch side of Northum- berland. Here and there, too, I saw some very fine farm-houses, built by wealthy yeomen, with all their accompaniments of barns, stack-yards, Ste., on a great scale. After all, execrable and mischievous as it was, the Revolution has not been without its advantages. Lands in mortmain, overgrown estates, and feudal rights, are monstrous clogs upon public industry ; and of these France has got rid for ever. The means were infamous ; but the end is salu- tary, and might have been attained quite as effectually without a single crime or a single act of injustice. The State has an undoubted right to the property of the Church, after the death of the incumbents; feudal rights might have been made subjects of compensation ; and as to the great estates, they are sure to crumble away fast enough by the folly of their possessors, if you. do but give them u right of selling.

FOREIGN NOTIONS OF ENGLISH ABOLITIONISTS.

You see that, in spite of all that has beeu said here about the slave.trade, the arrangement upon that subject is such as no friend to humanity can look

at without pain. But I really believe Lord Castlereagh did his best. You can hardly imagine how far removed all foreigners are - from those notions or religion, and justice, and mercy, which it is the chief blessing of Providence upon this country to have diffused so widely among us. They not only have them not themselves, but they utterly disbelieve in their existence in others. The abolition of the slave-trade is considered by them as a mere commercial speculation on our part. Our colonies are stocked, theirs are not ; and we wish to preserve the monopoly. That, they think, is the secret of all the pe. titions of the people and addresses of the Parliament of England ; and they laugh in your face if you talk of any other motive.

CONSIDERING ROME", AS HORATIO WOULD SAY, "TOO CURIOUSLY."

I wrote to you before from Rome ; but I said nothing about it, because at that time I had not taken even the most cursory view of what it contains. Since that, I have been i pretty nearly over it. One s always desirous to collect

as many opinions as one can with respect to agreat man or a. celebrated place, from those that have seen them; and I shall therefore explain to you, as well as I can, the sort of impression that 'Rome has made upon my mind. In the first place, I am bold enough to think, and rash enough to say, with deference, however, to better judgments, that the merit of the ancient buildings here has been a good deal exaggerated. No doubt they deserve a great deal of praise and admiration ; but they have received a double share of bah from fancy, affecta- tion, and that blind attachment to classical antiquity which swayed the minds of artists amid scholars for some centuries after the revival of learning. There are two ways of considering these objects—as Avila they are, or as what they have been. Now, there are not above four or five of the ancient monuments that arc still perfect enough to give much pleasure, except to a very enthu- siastic eye. First, and much before any thing else comes the Pantheon—com- plete, beautiful, and of the purest age. I really Chunk it deserves all that has been said in its praise; though one's pleasure in seeing it is in part to be attri- buted to the satisfaction and surprise one feels at the singular good fortune which has preserved it entire amidst the wreck of almost every thing else. Besides, one is a good deal awed by Agrippa and the Augustan ;ow. Still I will fairly own, that if it stood at Turnham Green, and had been Clashed yes. Urdu), by a man from Birmingham, it would still strike one as a noble and beautiful work. Its size, however, which in architecture is a very material point, is (as I need not tell you) not by any means remarkable. It is surpassed by all the great modern churches. Then comes the Coliseum ; which, though sadly ruined, it is impossible to look at without being very much struck with its enormous mass. Then the triumphal arches, Trajan's pillar, and the little temple of Vesta. This is pretty nearly all that actually pleases the eye. The obelisks' indeed, are numerous and perfect ; but they are curious rather than beautiful. What else remains of antiquity consists of unsightly ruins. There are perhaps sonic few exceptions which I ought to have made, but not many. You tummy find a great many pretty bits and seraps• but nothing else sufficiently entire to be admired as a whole. I am sensible, however, that the present beauty and perfectness of these monuments is not the most interesting subject of consideration. They are to be looked at chiefly as traces in which, by the help of history, we may discover the state of ancient art, wealth, and power. And certainly, io every part of Rome there are abundant proofs of its having been once the capital of a great, rich, enlightened, and victorious' people. Yet I own, that when I recollect how long and bow completely the Romans were masters of the world, how severely they governed it, how umnercifully they plundered it, and how much of their greatness and authority was concentrated in this single city, I am not at all surprised at the extent or splendour of their public works. All that they did, when compared with the vastness of their empire, is very much inferior indeed to vhat was accomplished by the little republics both of Greece and its colonies.

DIRT OF ROME. •

But now comes the drawback upon the splendid and interesting objects in Rome, and which I own diminishes their effect, in my eyes at least, to a won.

derftil degree. It is the extreme filth and shabbiness of the wretched town that surrounds them. Regular streets of lofty well-built lioness are not at all necessary in order to set off fine public buildings. Oxford is a sufficient proof of that, where there is hardly a single handsome private house ; and yet where every thing appears to the best advantage. But de:oiliness, neatness, space, and a tolerable state of repair, are quite indispensable.

lii Rome you search in vain for any one of these advantages. There is not a single wide street, and but one handsome square, Piazza di Savona. Poverty and dirt pursue you to the gates of every monument, ancient or modern, public or private. You never saw any place so nasty nor so beggarly ; nor I, except one. Lisben is a little worse than Rome, and only a little ; and it is a disgrace

to civilized man. The description of dirt is no very pleasant thing; and there- fore, lig your sake and for my own, I will not make one. But if you ever conic to Rome, you must prepare yourself for having your senses outrageously offended wherever you go. The dignity of a palace—the sanctity of a church— the veneration that is due to the remains of ancient greatness—nothing com- mands I lie smallest attention to decency or cleanliness. One of our earliest and most natural associations is that of purity with a fountain. Rome has destrio sd that in my mind for ever. It contains an incredible number of beautiMI fountains most abundantly supplied with water, but they are all so surrmi Idled by every object that is calculated to excite disgust, as to be abso- lute!) wiapproachable. So much dirt implies negligence and sloth. Accord- ingl. thing is kept in a careless, slovenly way. Not a trace of that neat. 'A and attention to details which gives so BBRAI additional beauty to the npleis scene you have beheld from the Place de Louis XV., and winch in fits. land is quite universal. In every thing here, and in every body, you r symptoms of that sort of foolish laziness of which among us none but child and very bed servants are guilty. You meet with it on all occasions,

great d small. When they repair a church, the rubbish remains to spoil the

roof ! encumber the steps ; when they cut a garden-hedge, they leave the clipp .$ to stop up the walks.

DEFENCE OF TI1E LAZZARONI PROM LAZINESS.

Tim e respect, however, I think it is but just to remark that they, and in-

deed Italians in general, have been too severely censured. They are by no

mea: u idle as they have been represented. Travellers from the North forget the ( mice of climate, and the consequently different distribution of time; and , .v from what they observe inferences which would be perfectly correct

in II own country, but which are altogether erroneous here. An English gent in having breakfasted at ten, (i. e. as soon as he is up,) and meaning to

dine .even, walks out at the proper St. James's Street hour, to take the both .ntrt of the day, and finds the slimly side (if the street lined with people

filet ,.p. "Ay, here are the lazzaroni ; so these fellows live in total idle-

ness. I get their bread by begging and stealing." But his Excellency forgets

that se fellows may have done a large part of a very hard day's work before he I m his morning walk, and that they, perhaps, mean to finish it whilst he is ei ed iu that meal on which lie relics br disposing of from two to three lieu his valuable time. The people of t he ;smith get credit for being lazy, berm among them sleep is au overt act, pertiamed sub dio, in the sight of

all I dogs and English gentlemen that happen to be roaming about ; whilst

the thee obliges the Northern sleeps'. to hide himself; who, having snored thy a cold mght, has no occasion fur rest through a day almost equally cold but I believe the sum of English repose is quite equal to that of Italian or 8, isls. In fact, the Italian peasants are very laborious; hut, unforttt- notify for them, they want skill, and capital still more ; and moreover, all the arts that minister to agriculture are in a low state, all owing to their execrable government.

A " TOO CURIOUS CONSIDERING " OF VENICE.

I have said so much about Ferrara that I must say the less about other places. I went next to Venice. It is perhaps the greatest curiosity in the World. The number of fine public buildings it contains is greater than in any other town in Italy, except Rome. But the interest they create when con- sidered separately, is feeble compared with the surprise one feels at first on seeMg' such a vast and magnificent city rising out of the water. Venice has greatly fallen off from its ancient splendour. But I confess I am not so much affected as many other people are by its misfortunes. Its wealth and nrosperity were owing to the barbarism and wretchedness of the rest of man- kind, What must have been the condition of those parts of Eutope that are most favoured by nature, when civilization and liberty were forced to wade up to their necks in a pool, and stand shivering there for centuries ?

Every one who reads them must remember good Mrs. TROLLOPE'S raptures about La Creme, of Vienna, and Austrian exclusives. Lord DUDLEY knew as much of high life as the lady, and perhaps was as good a judge of it : let us see what he thought of it— though, it must be allowed, twenty years ago.

AUSTRIAN NOBILITY.

From all I can see and learn. I am inclined to believe that the highest class of people here (I speak now of the men) are very low in point of knowledge and understanding. They receive a detestable education, generally at home, from a French Abb6. Indeed education is in general by no means properly at- tended to. It is said to be best in the Military College ; where, at any rate, they learn some mathematics. A great nobleman here is in general a dull, ill-informed, and very debauched person ; which is all natural enough' considering his wealth, his want of a ca- reer of honourable ambition, and his dignity, which enables him to trample with impunity upon those decencies which are held indispensable io a better- regulated society. The wnincii seem to deserve the diameter th, y enjoy all over Europe, or being far superior to the men. I understand, .Jr .stance, that Prince Metternich's daughter, who was a year or two ago married to a Count Esterhazy, very properly began his education by destroying his nume- rous and valuable collection of tobacco-pipes, and by teaching him to read. Smoking, as I need not remind you, is a most important bin:bless in the life of almost every German of whatever condition. And to say the truth I am rather inclined to consider it as a good thing for the common people. if they did not smoke, they would probably drink more. It is a sort of defence against cold and had air, and supplies a cheap, tranquil, harmless amusement. But it is au odd way for a gentleman to pass his day. You know what sort of a government they have here—a heavy, lazy, stupid, tmdstupiting despotism, but not violent nor cruel.

And in another letter he pursues the subject, when be conceived the first had miscarried.

"Young men of family are generally bred up at home by a French t atm, who is often any thing but a respectable person. -You may easily imagine what an effect this must produce. Among us, the defects of those who have lnul the mis- fortune to receive a private education or, what is sometimes the same thing, no education at all, are corrected by the i' nfluence and example of those that have been more lucky ; but where such a system prevails exclusively, it must occa- sion universal degradation. The public and private character of the Austrians seems to be pride without dignity. The country and the individuals rise at once, whenever they can, to the utmost height of unchastised insolence. and are equally capable of sinking to the lowest point of sycophancy and submis- sion. The tarbarian stateliness of their grandees forms a most hulierous con • !rest with the humble anxiety with which they pay their court to power. The middling and lower orders are better than their superiors. They are rather tittle and coarse, but still good people enough. Crime Seems scarce among them ; and I must do Gotumuy the justice to say, that it appears to sue, of all the countries I have been in, that in which there is the most tranquil and in- offensive enjoyment of life. I lament very much that the governmeots are all despotic. The Germans, especially in the North, are capable of something better. They possess a very tolerable share of instruction ; and their slo.vness, gravity, and phlegm, would occasion them to respect the forms of a free con- stitution, which French vivacity will always be trying to overleap. Indeed, I have always considered it as a great misfortune to the cause of liberty, that the first grand experiment of rumirdizing an old monarchy was made u -tlt such inflammable materials. The 'republican parts of a German constitutiou would be infinitely less liable to explode, to the destruction of the rest, and the peril of the whole neighbourhood. '

There is a hint for royalty, with some finely-marked traits of GEORGE the Fourth, by an observer who knew him, and whose curiously-considered estimate runs rather counter to general notions.

"I cannot help suspecting that his Majesty's late journies to sec his king- doms of Ireland and Hanover will not, on the whole, redound nityll to his honour or advantage. His manners no doubt are, when he pleases, vc.■ grace- ful and captivating. No man knows better how to add to an obligati it ny the way of conh.rring it. But on the whole, he wants dignity, not only in the seclusion awl familiarity of his are private life, but on public occasi a. The secret 'of popularity in very Sigh stations seems to consist in a ,• Joewhat reserved and lolly, but court coos and uniform behaviour. Drinkit fintats, tflaing people by the hand, and calling. them Jack and Tom, g more applause at the moment, but fails en m tirely the long run. Ile seen o have behaved not like a sovereign coming in pomp and state to visit it pa. r of his dominions, but like a popular candidate come down upon an elect s leering • trip. If the duty belbre he left Ircland he had stood for Dublin, he I dare say, have turned out Shaw or Grattan. Henry the Fourth is a d .gcrous example for sovereigns that are not, like him, splendid chevaliers and i- nun- mate captains. Louis the Foorteenth, who was never seen lint ii s

tull-

bottomed wig even by his valet-de-chambre, is a much safer model."

Let us now turn to some subjects which, though of a general character, have a species if autobiographical interest.

Lotto 1) c. m.1:1- ON PROSPECTS.

You do not quite do me justice in what regards the picturesque : I am as much delighted with a fine con nt ry as anybody. All I plead guilty t•, is, not liking wild scenery, rocks, and glaciers, so much as you do. Without under- taking to decide the question whether or not all the pleasure that i- derived from the contemplation of nature arise from association, we may fools' pre- Mae that a very considerable part of it is derived from that source. Now, I must confess that the greater number of ideas that are suggested to t .■ mind by very high rocks, snow-covered peaks, &c. are eminently disagree..

turn with horror from these emblems and causes of extreme cold, of de- lotion,

and of the suspension of the benign and productive powers of nature. not like to see the face of the earth turned into a frozen desert, and the unian race degraded below the beast. Perhaps I ought to think of someth lig very fine and very delightful when I see an Alp, but what I do think of is barren- ness and cretinism.

LORD DTJDLEY'S TASTE IN READING.

By the by, I observe a point in which your taste and mine differ from each other materially. It is about new publications. I read them unwillingly. You abstain from them with difficulty, and as a matter of duty and self- denial. Their novelty has very little attraction for me; and in literature I am fond of confining myself to the best company, which consists chiefly of my old acquaintance, with whom lam desirous of becoming more intimate; and I sus- pect that nine times out of ten it is more profitable, if not more agreeable, to read an old book over again, than to read a new one for the first time. If I

hear of a new poem, for instance, I ask myself first whether it is superior to

Homer, Shakspere, Ariosto, Virgil, or Racine; and in the next place, whether I already have all these authors completely at my fingers' ends. And when both questions have been answered in the negative, I infer that it is better (and to me it is certainly pleasanter) to give such time as I have to bestow on the reading of poetry, to Homer, Ariosto, and Co.; and so of other things. Is it not better to try at least to elevate and adorn one's mind by the con- stant study and contemplation of the great models, than merely to know of one's own knowledge that such a book an't worth reading? Some new books, to be sure, it is necessary to read—part for the information they contain, and others in order to acquaint oneself with the state of literature in the age in which one lives. But I had rather read too few than too many.

The first distinct symptoms of the last sad malady which de- stroyed this highly-gifted man, came on suddenly at Florence, in 1822. Ile describes it as originating without any obvious cause, and affecting him with a distressing lowness of spirits—a melan- choly mania, where the power of perception remains but the power of judging truly of one's own condition is lost. As the executors have thought tit to stop the publication of the medical post-mortem report, there is not the means of giving even a guess as to the cause of this disorder, supposing such cause to be trace- able in the body ten years afterwards ; but the nervous system would seem to have been affected in some way, for the disease yielded a little to change of scene, and the bracing air of the mountains—returning in the plains. He seems, too, to have been troubled with one sign of insanity, ill-grounded suspicion. This is his description of himself.

"The last time I wrote to you was from Milan,—a bad place, by the by, to write from, as I am inclined to suspect that the post-office there is either irre- gular or unfaithful in its proceedings. Until I know the contrary, however, I shall suppose that my letter has reached you. Since that, my journey has presented to me nothing interesting. I came straight to Geneva, and from there as directly to Paris. It was some satisfaction to me to observe that all the sto- ries about the Simplon road being suffered to fall into ruitt are utterly untrue. It is in a state that indicates constant and judicious care. "It se generally foolish and tiresome to write about oneself; but there are occasions on which one can hardly avoid it. In my last I complained of my health, and still more of my spirits. lain obliged to renew the complaint. In spite of the most rigid, undeviating temperance, my stomach is almost con- stantly disordered ; and what is a thousand times worse, the gloom and anxiety under which I suffered, have been rarely chased away even for a mo- ment by more agreeable thoughts. I was in some hopes that change of air and scene would afford me relief; but even here I find myself under the dominion of my old enemy, from whom I begin to fear that it is impossible to escape. Sometimes I recover a little, and look buck to the state of mind in which I have been for some time past, as to a horrible dream ; but even there is some- thing humiliating as well as painful in the recollection of such despondency, and contemptible incapacity for all useful effort, or indeed for efforts of any kind. If this lasts much longer, I shall have great difficulty in knowing; what to do. I am unfit for solitude, for I cannot amuse myself: I am unfit for society, for I cannot contribute my share towards amusing others. However, I will trouble you no more at present upon this disagreeable topic; only if you hear that I am much changed, you may believe it."

From Paris he proceeded to England, and for some time after his return his life was embittered by his disorder: but he recovered; and on CANxixo's acceptance of the Foreign Office, he offered his friend the Under-Secretaryship. After long pondering and con- sultation, he declined it ; chiefly, it would seem, on Dr. COPLE.- STON'S recommendation. The present Lord MELBOURNE, to whom he wrote confidentially, advised him to accept, under con- ditions.

LORD MELBOURNE ON TAKING PLACE.

I received your letter this morning alone, destroyed it as soon as I luid read it, and have considered its contents as I rode over here from Brackett; and upon the whole, putting myself in your place, I have little doubt that you should accept the offer : it is one of the pleasantest places under Government, neces- sarily gives an insight into all that is going OM and would be rendered to you particularly agreeable by your cordial agreement and intimacy with your prin- cipal; add to this, that it would have the effect of supporting mid assisting Canning at this moment ; that it might lead to more—that it would give you what 'you want in occupation and employment, and that, without flattering your abilities and knowledge of the world at home and abroad, it might enable you to be of essential service to the Ministry and the country. These are considerations sufficient in my mind to induce you to accept; at the same time, do not take it unless you can make up your mind, in the first place, to bear every species of abuse and misrepresentation, ant the imputation of the most sordid and most interested motives ; in the second place, to go through with it it' you undertake it, and not to be dispirited by any difficulties or annoyances which you may find in the office, and which you may depend upon it no office is free from. write in a great hurry, and with a bad pen, but if you can read it, you will understand me as well as if I had written three times as much. Yours very sincerely, W. LAMB.

Here we must break off. The extracts we have taken are of course from those parts which have struck us in perusal, but the striking passages are by no means exhausted; and almost every page exhibits the just and curious observer, the ripe scholar, Or the elegant writer. Such is the volume which Lord IIATIIERTON and his coadjutors would have suppressed arbitrarily, without even the courtesy of inquiring into its character, or taking the trouble to inspect its contents. The rule on which they are able to do this, is not English law, but "judge-made" law. The Courts of Justice would grant the executors no such power ; they must go to Chancery for it. If a man has written a letter which it is important for his interests to inspect, the Courts of Law will grant hint a mandamus for its pro- duetion. If the writer or any other person publish letters which inflict an injury, the Courts of Law will punish the wrong-doers. But they will not give a man, much less an executor, the power to stop the printing of letters, while the law holds the act of sending is an act of publication, sufficient, it may be, to lead to imprisonment or death. Upon the judge-made law of Equity the doubts are very considerable. The basis on which it rests is an incidental remark of Lord HA RDWICKE, that "the receiver of a letter has only a joint property with the writer ;" applied, however, to the writer himself. In 1774, Lord APSLEY granted an injunction to the executors of Lord CHESTERFIELD against the widow of his son, because be said it was "within the reason" of other injunctions : and this precedent has been several times affirmed by Lord ELDosr, apparently against his own opinion ; but, on the first occasion, he said he did not sit there to unsettle doctrines which be found settled. He however intimated, that if the case were carried to the House of Lords on an appeal, he might lend his assistance to change the doctrine. This has not yet been done, doubtless on account of the expense. Nor does it strike us that the substantial justice of the case re- quires the support of the law. It is one that individuals must de- cide upon the individual case, under the control, as they must always be, of public opinion. If a man is so foolish as to write ill- considered letters to a person of whom he knows little or nothing, he must take the consequences of his folly. If he is deceived in the character of his correspondent, it is a misfortune, which, like other misfortunes, must be borne. But it must be remembered, that the publisher of improper letters is equally obnoxious to cen- sure with the writer of them ; indeed, more so, since he superadds to impropriety the baseness of betraying confidence : neither is it a particular compliment to any one's sense or morality, that he is se- lected to be the first recipient of scandal, folly, or vice. These points will always have their proportioned influence in restraining publication, just as they have in restraining the more limited pub- lication in private life.

The rationale of the subject applies still more strongly to the case before us. Had the publication been .announced by some

needy littillrateur or unknown person, who refused to satisfy the exe- cutors as to the description of the correspondence, there might have been some reason for resorting to the law : but it was absurd

to suppose that Lord DUDLEY would choose Dr. COPLESTON, a dig- nitary of the Church, to address questionable letters to, had he been a likely man to write such ; still more absurd to suppose that the Bishop of LI. ANDAFF would publish them. As Dr. COPLESTON stands upon his moral right to publish, and declines to solicit any favour, it is uncertain whether the remainder of the Correspondence, and, we infer, some notices of Lord DUD.'

LEY'S life and character, will appear. IloweVer, as the letters can- not be taken from him, we trust the Bishop will adopt efficient

means to secure their eventual publication, not less for the advan- tage of literature than from regard to the literary reputation of his friend. Had the editor been a man in any other position, we should have suggested to hliln to set the twaddling and not over-polite old gentlemen at defiance, by a publication in France or America.