and then engaged in the study of the law. In 1809, he accompanied John Quincy Adams, as Secretary of Legation, to St. Petersburg; and after that his life was more devoted to diplomatic pursuits than to the legal profession.

In 1815, he again went to Europe, as Secretary of Legation at the Court of the King of Netherlands, and returned home in 1817. In 1818, he embarked again for Holland, having been appointed chargé d'affaires; and in 1825, he accepted the position of Ambassador at the Court of Madrid, where he remained till 1829. A few months after his return to the United States from Madrid, Mr. Everett became the editor and principal proprietor of the "North American Review." He had long been a leading contributor to this journal, and, under his charge it was materially improved. About the year 1832, he engaged actively in politics; and soon after connected himself with the Democratic party. On the accession of Mr. Polk to the Presidency, in 1845, Mr. Everett was appointed Commissioner to China; but, in consequence of ill health, he proceeded no further than Rio Janeiro, whence he returned to the United States. After an interval of several months, he again sailed for Canton; but had hardly become settled in his new residence, when his mortal career was terminated, on the 28th of June, 1847.

Mr. Everett was one of the most eminent literary men our country has produced. He was proficient in the languages and literature of modern Europe, in philosophy, in diplomacy, the law of nations, and all the learning requisite for a statesman; and in his death our country incurred the loss of one who had served her ably and faithfully abroad, and had contributed essentially to elevate, among European scholars, the character of American literature.

Besides his numerous contributions to periodicals, Mr. Everett's principal published works are, "Europe," a treatise on the political condition of Europe, in 1821, published in 1822; "America," a similar treatise on our country, published in 1825; and “ New Ideas on Population," suggested by, and a reply to, Malthus and his school, published in 1827. Two volumes of his Essays had been published before his death, and he was, at the time of that event, preparing for a continuation of the series.

EDMUND BURKE.

A sagacious critic has advanced the opinion that the merit. of Burke was almost wholly literary; but I confess I see little ground for this assertion, if literary excellence is here understood in any other sense than as an immediate result of the

highest intellectual and moral endowments. Such compositions as the writings of Burke suppose, no doubt, the fine taste, the command of language, and the finished education, which are all supposed by every description of literary success. But, in the present state of society, these qualities are far from being uncommon; and are possessed by thousands, who make no pretension to the eminence of Burke, in the same degree in which they were by him. Such a writer as Cumberland, for example, who stands infinitely below Burke on the scale of intellect, may yet be regarded as his equal or superior in purely literary accomplishments, taken in this exclusive sense. The style of Burke is undoubtedly one of the most splendid forms in which the English language has ever been exhibited. It displays the happy and difficult union of all the richness and magnificence that good taste admits, with a perfectly easy construction. In Burke, we see the manly movement of a wellbred gentleman; in Johnson, an equally profound and vigorous thinker, the measured march of a grenadier. We forgive the great moralist his stiff and cumbrous phrases, in return for the rich stores of thought and poetry which they conceal; but we admire in Burke, as in a fine antique statue, the grace with which the large flowing robe adapts itself to the majestic dignity of the person. But, with all his literary excellence, the peculiar merits of this great man were, perhaps, the faculty of profound and philosophical thought, and the moral courage which led him to disregard personal inconvenience in the expression of his sentiments. Deep thought is the informing soul, that everywhere sustains and inspires the imposing grandeur of his eloquence. Even in the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, the only work of pure literature which he attempted, that is, the only one which was not an immediate expression of his views on public affairs, there is still the same richness of thought, the same basis of "divine philosophy," to support the harmonious superstructure of the language. And the moral courage which formed so remarkable a feature in his character contributed not less essentially to his literary success. It seems to be a law of nature, that the highest degree of eloquence demands the union of the noblest qualities of character as well as intellect. To think is the highest exercise of the mind; to say what you think, the boldest effort of moral courage; and both these things are required for a really powerful writer. Eloquence without thoughts is a mere parade of words; and no man can express with spirit and vigor any thoughts but his This was the secret of the eloquence of Rousseau, which

Own.

is not without a certain analogy in its forms to that of Burke. The principal of the Jesuits' college one day inquired of him by what art he had been able to write so well. “I said what I thought," replied the unceremonious Genevan; conveying, in these few words, the bitterest satire on the system of the Jesuits, and the best explanation of his own.

ENGLAND.

Whatever may be the extent of the distress in England, or the difficulty of finding any remedies for it, which shall be at once practicable and sufficient, it is certain that the symptoms of decline have not yet displayed themselves on the surface; and no country in Europe, at the present day, probably none that ever flourished at any preceding period of ancient or of modern times, ever exhibited so strongly the outward marks of general industry, wealth, and prosperity. The misery that exists, whatever it may be, retires from public view; and the traveller sees no traces of it except in the beggars-which are not more numerous than they are on the continent-in the courts of justice, and in the newspapers. On the contrary, the impressions he receives from the objects that meet his view are almost uniformly agreeable. He is pleased with the great attention paid to his personal accommodation as a traveller, with the excellent roads, and the conveniences of the public carriages and inns. The country everywhere exhibits the appearance of high cultivation, or else of wild and picturesque beauty; and even the unimproved lands are disposed with taste and skill, so as to embellish the landscape very highly, if they do not contribute, as they might, to the substantial comfort of the people. From every eminence, extensive parks and grounds, spreading far and wide over hill and vale, interspersed with dark woods, and variegated with bright waters, unroll themselves before the eye, like enchanted gardens. And while the elegant constructions of the modern proprietors fill the mind with images of ease and luxury, the mouldering ruins that remain of former ages, of the castles and churches of their feudal ancestors, increase the interest of the picture by contrast, and associate with it poetical and affecting recollections of other times and manners. Every village seems to be the chosen residence of Industry, and her handmaids, Neatness and Comfort; and, in the various parts of the island, her operations present themselves under the most amusing and agreeable

variety of forms. Sometimes her votaries are mounting to the skies in manufactories of innumerable stories in height, and sometimes diving in mines into the bowels of the earth, or dragging up drowned treasures from the bottom of the sea. At one time the ornamented grounds of a wealthy proprietor seem to realize the fabled Elysium; and again, as you pass in the evening through some village engaged in the iron manufacture, where a thousand forges are feeding at once their darkred fires, and clouding the air with their volumes of smoke, you might think yourself, for a moment, a little too near some drearier residence.

The aspect of the cities is as various as that of the country. Oxford, in the silent, solemn grandeur of its numerous collegiate palaces, with their massy stone walls, and vast interior quadrangles, seems like the deserted capital of some departed race of giants. This is the splendid sepulchre, where Science, like the Roman Tarpeia, lies buried under the weight of gold that rewarded her ancient services, and where copious libations of the richest Port and Madeira are daily poured out to her memory. At Liverpool, on the contrary, all is bustle, brick, and business. Everything breathes of modern times, everybody is occupied with the concerns of the present moment, excepting one elegant scholar, who unites a singular resemblance to the Roman face and dignified person of our Washington, with the magnificent spirit and intellectual accomplishments of his own Italian hero.1

At every change of the landscape, you fall upon monuments of some new race of men, among the number that have in their turn inhabited these islands. The mysterious monument of Stonehenge, standing remote and alone upon a bare and boundless heath, as much unconnected with the events of past ages as it is with the uses of the present, carries you back, beyond all historical records, into the obscurity of a wholly unknown period. Perhaps the Druids raised it; but by what machinery could these half barbarians have wrought and moved such immense masses of rock? By what fatality is it, that, in every part of the globe, the most durable impressions that have been made upon its surface were the work of races now entirely extinct? Who were the builders of the pyramids and the massive monuments of Egypt and India? Who constructed the Cyclopean walls of Italy and Greece, or elevated the innumerable and inexplicable mounds which are seen in every

' William Roscoe, author of "Life of Lorenzo de Medici."

part of Europe, Asia, and America; or the ancient forts upon the Ohio, on whose ruins the third growth of trees is now more than four hundred years old? All these constructions have existed through the whole period within the memory of man, and will continue, when all the architecture of the present generation, with its high civilization and improved machinery, shall have crumbled into dust. Stonehenge will remain unchanged, when the banks of the Thames shall be as bare as Salisbury heath.

RICHARD HENRY WILDE, 1789-1847.

THIS accomplished scholar and poet was born in Dublin, Ireland, on the 24th of September, 1789. When he was seven years old, his father, who had been a hardware merchant, came to Baltimore to better his fortunes. By the mismanagement of a partner in Dublin, he lost nearly all the property he left behind, and he died poor, in 1802. The following year his mother removed to Augusta, Georgia, and there opened a small store to gain her living, her son Richard aiding her during the day, and pursuing his studies at night. He early directed his attention to the law, and, in 1809, was admitted to the bar. He rose rapidly in his profession, and was soon elected Attorney-General of the State.

In 1815, when just past the legal age, he was chosen representative to Congress, and served but one term. He was again a member of that body from 1828 to 1835. He then went to Europe, passing most of his time, when abroad, in Italy, in the pursuit of his favorite study, Italian literature. On his return home, he published, in 1842, "Conjectures and Researches concerning the Love, Madness, and Imprisonment of Torquato Tasso," in two volumes. In 1844 he removed to New Orleans, and, after practising his profession a few months, was appointed Professor of Law in the University of Louisiana. He filled that chair with great ability, and was rising higher and higher as a civilian, when his useful career was cut short by death, on the 10th of September, 1847.

JOHN RANDOLPH AND DANIEL WEBSTER.

Among the legislators of that day, but not of them, in the fearful and solitary sublimity of genius, stood a gentleman