the instruction of his uncompromising old "pastor and master" in party warfare. Remarking on one of his political satires which Landor had sent him, Parr thinks "the composition animated, but the notes rather too acrimonious." Still he finds them spirited, and can sympathize with the indignant writer in the matter of Kotzebue. But why attack the father? he was not a discarded player. The conclusion is fierce, but witty and just." One or two glimpses of their more private intercourse may be added. RETURN AFTER AN ABSENCE. "I am very sorry that we missed each other when you called on me and I on you; and I am sure that if Walter Landor had gone into the penetrale of Hatton Parsonage, he would have found the Lares ready to welcome with a smile the return of an old and justly respected worshipper. Pray do you and Dr. Lambe dine with me next Sunday; and if you come in a chaise, cram little A into a corner." The matter next adverted to has no sort of interest for us now, but seventy years ago was setting all the world at Warwick by the ears; and the colonel mentioned is the same we made acquaintance with in one of Mr. Robert Landor's letters. Indeed one may discern in the tone here taken by Parr, and what it reveals of the part in a personal dispute taken by Landor himself, some connection with allusions made in that letter. ABOUT STONELEIGH LIVING. "What a truth is there, and what lies, about Stoneleigh living! Upon one canticle of that Cyclean poem (for there is such a want of regularity in the structure, and of dignity in the agents, that I cannot call any part the episode of an epic), I would assume the office of a critic; strict indeed, but precise, as Aristarchus. Colonel Packwood certainly applied to Lord Hertford for his son; Lord Hertford certainly applied to the chancellor, but without mentioning Colonel Packwood's son; and Lord Hertford, if his application had been successful, certainly would not have given the living. to Colonel Packwood's son. Colonel Packwood certainly knows these are the facts as well as I do, and before I did; nor would he, as a gentleman responsible for veracity and honor, ever attempt to dispute the correctness of one tittle of this my statement. You may say what I have said; and quote my authority for saying it positively. I am, dear Walter, truly yours, S. Parr.” What follows is later in date by a year or two; but it shows what a fierce enemy as well as fast friend this eager old man could be, and how genuine the regard was that Landor had inspired in him. The letter is very characteristic, and there is no need to supply the blank with a name. AN OLD ASSOCIATE OF PARR'S AT HARROW. "DEAR WALTER, - I have known for thirty-six years and more. But I do not like him; and, for various reasons in the politics of Harrow, we "December 23, 1802." are not on very amicable terms. A letter from me would do you no good. If there were the smallest chance of advantage or convenience to you, I would write to him. But he is not likely to fall into any measure because I take an interest in it. Write to him at once; in this there is no trouble and can be no harm. I much doubt whether he would sell, or exchange; and if he knew your genius, your attainments, your politics, your eloquence, and your dignified way of thinking and acting upon all subjects in private and public life, he would dread you, hate you, and drive you into the sea. I know him well, and he knows that I know him. But his son is a most high-minded, generous-hearted, clear and full-headed hero. He would do for a friend to you, or to myself. Harry is his name; and he is a tutor at Harrow, and fellow of King's College, Cambridge. When Butler resigns, Harry shall be his successor, if my aid can effect so desirable an end. I am very well, and rather busy, and quite content with my own share of loss by the change of ministry. You hate Bonaparte. But I do not suspect you have any strong affection for George and his present advisers. . . . . Farewell, God bless you, dear Walter. I am truly, ay with real and great respect and regard I am your friend, S. PARR.” My two closing extracts, from letters of the date of 1800 and 1801, concern persons more widely known. A GLIMPSE OF SHERIDAN. "Beware, dear Walter, of prophecies about politicians. On Friday at 3 P. M. I said, Sheridan will never meet me! On that very day at 6 P. M. Sheridan came in where I was dining, on purpose to meet me. I sat with him enjoying my pipe after dinner, and he sat with his claret." A PARTY AT MACKINTOSH'S. "My Jemmy (Mackintosh) was delightful, and I will tell you who were with us. 1. A sturdy democratic yeoman. 2. A university bedel, who, I find, is always reading in the Bodleian, and who is a shrewd, argumentative, sceptical, anti-ministerial dog. 3. What is more surprising, a doctor of divinity; whom I have known twenty-four years and not seen these ten; who took his degree twenty years ago, and has not been at Oxford since; who reads Greek well, has more Greek books than myself, makes war upon all bishops and archbishops, and is a rank, fire-away, uncompromising Whig in Church and State. These were our companions. There never was such good luck." Adair's letters of this date in a great measure deal with the same circumstances; but in the few extracts I give it will be possible to avoid repetition. Though he feels strongly, he writes always with ability and a command of temper; and in him, even while yet he was a constant butt for the sarcasm of Canning and his friends, I seem to recognize the same quiet courteous gentleman whom I remember meeting at dinner at Holland House nearly forty years later. Here is one of his references to THE DUKE OF PORTLAND'S DEFECTION. "I have long ceased all intercourse, public or private, with the Duke of Portland; and as my connection with him was one of the earliest of my life, I am not ashamed to confess that my resentments are bounded by the wish of never seeing him more, or hearing the mention of his name. But he has forfeited all right to my interposition with others to spare him the reproaches which he has deserved from his country and from mankind." Here he speaks of a subject in some degree affecting his loyalty as a Whig, but on which, with all his ardor in the cause, he could agree to differ with Landor. WILLIAM THE DELIVERER. "With regard to King William, I profess my gratitude to him to arise from public principle, and public principle alone; but having no other means of forming my judgment of his character than those which are common to everybody, I do not feel myself authorized to claim the concurrence of any man living who has the faculty of reasoning for himself. With your permission I will show your letter to Mr. Perry, but without mentioning your name." It recurs briefly in a letter where he alludes to PARR'S SERMON AND LANDOR'S NEWSPAPER WRITINGS. "I sent your letter to Doctor Parr this day. I have the pleasure to tell you that he will be in town next week. As you may wish to read his sermon before his arrival, I take the liberty of sending you my copy. There are some noble passages in the notes. You seem not to be quite sure whether or no the editor of the Courier has rejected your letter. I will take the opportunity of looking at the file, and will let you know. The degraded state of the English press induces me to suspect that it has been omitted. I have no hesitation in saying for myself, and can answer for many of my friends, that we should have been much gratified to have seen it in print. I confess that I think better of King William than you seem to do, but perhaps I am a little blinded by my gratitude (to use a Godwinism). This however is but a difference of opinion, and cannot detract from the substantial merits of the writing. I am acquainted with the Editor of the Courier, but am almost sure that you would find an easy access to the Morning Chronicle if you would permit me to speak to Mr. Perry. I would not name this to you, did I not know Mr. Perry to be a man of inviolable honor. I will not vex you with praises, but only wish you to think as well of my judgment as you do of my patriotism and my politeness when I apply those praises to your compositions." Landor's ability had made a strong impression on Adair, but he saw also his defects, and, as in a letter where he criticises one of his attacks on the new government, could give him wise and useful hints for guidance. ADAIR TO LANDOR: A CORRECTION AND A WARNING. "That the Catholics were 'promised' emancipation in the fair meaning of the word 'promise,' as the price of their support of the Union, I have not the smallest doubt; but since the positive denial of the fact in Parliament, I do not think we are authorized to state it as 'uncontroverted.' When you ask, very justly as I think, 'Where is the constitution but in the bosom of such affectionate and disinterested defenders as the solicitor-general ? ' 1797-1805. I am infinitely more afraid, I confess, of his reply ex officio as a lawyer than as a logician. Believe me the press is absolutely enslaved. other sentences in your letter, which by innuendo might be laid as tending Coupled with to bring the government into disrepute (a crime quite of modern date), I am afraid a jury might be found to condemn it. But, of all men, you have the least reason to despair as a public writer, for you possess such resources for escape in your powers of satire and of irony that you will always be able, as soon as you have found out the trim of the vessel, to state the strongest truths, and to state them safely." One more subject, an appeal in arrest of judgment as to one of Landor's personal attacks, must close these extracts for the present. Landor, in one of his political letters on the defection of the Duke of Portland and his friends, had laughed at the Abbé Delille, at this time a refugee in London, much petted by the Whigs and bringing out a poem under their patronage. "The Abbé Delille ran away from his property, the Abbé Delille wrote some Georgics, and the Abbé Delille talks of Virgil." Commenting on this letter, and giving up the duke to its wrath, Adair writes to Landor: A WORD FOR THE ABBÉ DELILLE. "I could much rather intercede for the poor old Abbé Delille, were it only because he had the boldness to defy Robespierre on his throne of blood, and to publish, I believe to recite before him, his fine verses on the immortality of the soul. The occasion of his writing them was as follows. In 1794, the Comité de Salut Public sent to him to compose some verses for a festival which they had ordered in honor of God, whom Robespierre had previously recognized by a decree of the Convention. Delille refused. It was told him that he,had been permitted to live quietly at Paris till that time, but that those who had protected him might possibly not be able to protect him any longer if he persisted in his refusal. He composed, therefore, an ode, which he recited to some of them, in which are the following stanzas: 'Dans sa demeure inébranlable Assise sur l'éternité La tranquille immortalité, Propice au bon, et terrible au coupable, Du tems qui, sous ses yeux, marche à pas de géant, Et ravit à l'espoir du vice, L'asile horrible du néant. 'O vous, qui de l'Olympe usurpant le tonnerre, Des éternels lois renversez les autels, Lâches oppresseurs de la terre, Tremblez-vous êtes immortels: Et vous vous du malheur victimes passagères, If you have never seen these lines, nor heard of the anecdote before, the Abbé Delille may, perhaps, rise in your estimation. At all events I think I shall plead for him more successfully to you than Corneille would to the attorney-general. 'Sa probite stupide,' applied as you have applied it, would have been dangerous at any time; but would be particularly so at present, when the object of it has lost even the remnant of his wits." Perhaps it may be owing to a favorable impression made thus early by this kindly plea of Adair for the good old abbé, that Landor made him afterwards an interlocutor in one of his imaginary dialogues. But he never conquered his own dislike of the French character and literature. It was one of his earliest and one of his latest peculiarities. The armed republic that was to change the face of the world had failed of its glorious mission; even the hopes he once built on Bonaparte he cherished no longer; and though eager to visit France as soon as peace was declared, and curious to see her first consul, it was with very little of that kind of sympathy for the hero of the eighteenth Brumaire and now supreme ruler of France which carried over at the same time Fox himself, Adair, and many eager followers. VII. AT PARIS IN 1802. Landor had declined all introductions; though letters had been offered him, as he told his brother, which would have opened to him the salons of the second consul Cambacèrés, and of Berthier the minister of war. There was but one Frenchman he cared to see, and one portion of France. PARIS, as the great city looked so soon after the storm of the Revolution, with her Louvre filled by the spoils of Italy; and BONAPARTE, now consul for life; when these had been seen, he should at once return. The precise time of his arrival was that to which Wordsworth's well-known sonnet has referred : "This is young Bonaparte's natal day, And his is henceforth an establisht sway, Upon the occasion when Bonaparte first publicly assumed the rank with which he had been thus invested, Landor saw him. Advantage had been taken of it for a great holiday, of which, as the young Englishman walked the streets, he saw everywhere the mighty preparation. Yet in the signs of enthusiasm presented outwardly there were curious contrasts. On the one hand, "The private houses were no more illuminated than usual. The shops had two lamps instead of one. This was the only difference." On the other hand, "The palace of the government, the metropolitan church, the arches of the bridges, the bridges themselves and all the public edifices, were illuminated most magnificently." That the, enthusiasm had been specially got up for Paris, in short, quite as much as any other part of the ceremony, Landor had reason to suspect; and the suspicion became a certainty when the hero of the day made his appearance. This was in the garden of the Tuileries; and in a letter to his brother Henry, now lying before me, he described the scene. At various points there had been built up pyramids of wood, each of the height of five-and-twenty feet, covered with lamps of extraordinary brilliancy. In the same manner were ornamented "the sides of several |