that Mr. Fox has gone rather too far in stating that the object both of Charles and James in taking money from Lewis was to render themselves independent of Parliament, and to enable them to govern without those assemblies. Mr. Rose admits that this was the point which both monarchs were desirous of attaining, and merely says that it does not appear that either of them expected that the calling of Parliaments could be entirely dispensed with. There certainly is not here any worthy subject of contention.

The next point is as to the sums of money which Barillon says he distributed to the Whig leaders, as well as to the King's ministers. Mr. Rose is very liberal and rational on this subject; and thinks it not unfair to doubt the accuracy of the account which this minister renders of his disbursements. He even quotes two passages from Mad. de Sevigné, to shew that it was the general opinion that he had enriched himself greatly by his mission to England. In a letter written during the continuance of that mission, she says, "Barillon s'en va, &c. ; son emploi est admirable cette année; il mangera cinquante mille francs; mais il sait bien où les prendre." And after his final return, she says he is old and rich, and looks without envy on the brilliant situation of Mr. D'Avaux. The only inference he draws from the discussion is, that it should have a little shaken Mr. Fox's confidence in his accuracy. The answer to which obviously is, that his mere dishonesty, where is private interest was concerned, can afford no reason for doubting his accuracy, where it was not affected.

In the concluding section of his remarks Mr. Rose resumes his eulogium on Sir Patrick Hume,―introduces a splendid encomium on the Marquis of Montrose,-brings authority to show, that torture was used to extort confession in Scotland even after the Revolution,—and then breaks out into a high Tory rant against Mr. Fox, for supposing that the councillors who condemned Argyle might not be very easy in their consciences, and for calling those who were hunting down that nobleman's dispersed followers “authorised assassins." James, he says, was their lawful sovereign; and the parties in question having been in open rebellion, it was the evident duty of all who had not joined with them to suppress them. We are not very fond of arguing general points of this nature; and the question here is fortunately special, and simple. If the tyranny and oppression of James in Scotland-the unheard-of enormity of which Mr. Rose owns that Mr. Fox has understated — had already given that country a far juster title to renounce him than England had in 1688, then James was not “their lawful sovereign in any sense in which that phrase can be understood by a free people, and those whose cowardice or despair made them submit to be the instruments of the tyrant's vengeance on one who had armed for their deliverance, may very innocently be presumed to have suffered some remorse for their compliance. With regard, again, to the phrase of "authorised assassins," it is plain, from the context of Mr. Fox, that it is not applied to the regular forces acting against the remains of Argyle's armed followers, but to those individuals, whether military or not, who pursued the disarmed and solitary fugitives for the

purpose of butchering them in cold blood, in their caverns and mountains.

Such is the substance of Mr. Rose's observations, which certainly does not appear to us of any considerable value-though they indicate throughout a laudable industry, and a still more laudable consciousness of inferiority-together with (what we are determined to believe) a natural disposition to liberality and moderation, counteracted by the littleness of party jealousy and resentment. We had noted a great number of petty misrepresentations and small inaccuracies, but, in a work which is not likely either to be much read or long remembered, these things are not worth the trouble of correction.

Though the book itself is very dull, however, we must say that the Appendix is very entertaining. Sir Patrick's narrative is clear and spirited; but what delights us far more is another and more domestic and miscellaneous narrative of the adventures of his family, from the period of Argyle's discomfiture till their return in the train of King William. This is from the hand of Lady Murray, Sir Patrick's granddaughter, and is mostly furnished from the information of her mother, his favourite and exemplary daughter. There is an air of cheerful magnanimity and artless goodness about this little history which is extremely engaging, and a variety of traits of Scottish simplicity and homeliness of character which recommend it, in a peculiar manner, to our national feelings. Although we have already enlarged this article beyond its proper limits we must give our readers a few specimens of this singular chronicle.

After Sir Patrick's escape he made his way to his own castle, and was concealed for some time in a vault under the church, where his daughter, then a girl under twenty, went alone every night with heroic fortitude, to comfort and feed him. The gaiety, however, which lightened this perilous intercourse is to us still more admirable than its heroism.

"She went every night by herself, at midnight, to carry him victuals and drink, and stayed with him as long as she could to get home before day. In all this time my grandfather showed the same constant composure and cheerfulness of mind that he continued to possess to his death, which was at the age of eighty-four; all which good qualities she inherited from him in a high degree. Often did they laugh heartily in that doleful habitation at different accidents that happened. She at that time had a terror for a churchyard, especially in the dark, as is not uncommon at her age, by idle nursery stories; but when engaged by concern for her father, she stumbled over the graves every night alone without fear of any kind entering her thoughts, but for soldiers and parties in search of him, which the least noise or motion of a leaf put her in terror for. The minister's house was near the church. The first night she went his dogs kept such a barking as put her in the utmost fear of a discovery. My grandmother sent for the minister next day, and, upon pretence of a mad dog, got him to hang all his dogs. There was also difficulty of getting victuals to carry him, without the servants suspecting; the only way it was done was by stealing it off her plate at dinner into her lap. Many a diverting story she has told about this and other things of the like nature. Her father liked sheep's head, and while the children were eating their broth she had conveyed most

of one into her lap. When her brother Sandy (the late Lord Marchmont) had done, he looked up with astonishment and said, 'Mother, will you look at Grizzel; while we have been eating our broth she has eat up the whole sheep's head.' This occasioned so much mirth among them, that her father at night was greatly entertained by it, and desired Sandy might have a share in the next."App. p. [v.]

They then tried to secrete him in a low room in his own house, and for this purpose to contrive a bed concealed under the floor, which this affectionate and light-hearted girl secretly excavated herself by scratching up the earth with her nails, "till she left not a nail on her fingers," and carrying it into the garden at night in bags. At last, however, they all got over to Holland, where they seemed to have lived in great poverty, but in the same style of magnanimous gaiety and cordial affection of which some instances have been recited. This admirable young woman, who lived afterwards with the same simplicity of character in the first society in England, seems to have exerted herself in a way that nothing but affection could have rendered tolerable even to one bred up to drudgery.

"All the time they were there (says his daughter), there was not a week my mother did not sit up two nights to do the business that was necessary. She went to market, went to the mill to have their corn ground, which, it seems, is the way with good managers there, dressed the linen, cleaned the house, made ready dinner, mended the children's stockings and other clothes, made what she could for them, and, in short, did everything. Her sister Christian, who was a year or two younger, diverted her father and mother, and the rest who were fond of music. Out of their small income they bought a harpischord for little money (but is a Rucar*), now in my custody, and most valuable. My aunt played and sung well, and had a great deal of life and humour, but no turn to business. Though my mother had the same qualifications, and liked it as well as she did, she was forced to drudge, and many jokes used to pass betwixt the sisters about their different occupations."-p. [ix.]

"Her brother soon afterwards entered into the Prince of Orange's guards; and her constant attention was to have him appear right in his linen and dress. They wore little point cravats and cuffs, which many a night she sat up to have in as good order for him as any in the place; and one of their greatest expenses was in dressing him as he ought to be. As their house was always full of the unfortunate banished people like themselves, they seldom went to dinner without three, or four, or five of them, to share with them; and many a hundred times I have heard her say, she could never look back upon their manner of living there, without thinking it a miracle. They had no want but plenty of everything they desired, and much contentment; and always declared it the most pleasing part of her life, though they were not without their little distresses; but to them they were rather jokes than grievances. The professors, and men of learning in the place, came often to see my grandfather. The best entertainment he could give them, was a glass of alabast beer, which was a better kind of ale than common. He sent his son Andrew, the late Lord Kimmerghame, a boy, to draw some for them in the cellar : he brought it up with great diligence; but in the other hand the spiket of the barrel. My grandfather said, 'Andrew, what is that in your hand?' When he saw it he

*An eminent maker of that time.

run down with speed; but the beer was all run out before he got there. This occasioned much mirth; though perhaps they did not well know where to get more."-pp. [x. xi.]

Sir Patrick, we are glad to hear, retained this kindly cheerfulness of character to the last; and, after he was an Earl and Chancellor of Scotland, and unable to stir with gout, had himself carried to the room where his children and grandchildren were dancing, and insisted on beating time with his foot. Nay, when dying at the advanced age of eighty-four, he could not resist his old propensity to joking, but uttered various pleasantries on the disappointment the worms would meet with, when, after boring through his thick coffin, they would find little but bones.

There is in the Appendix, besides these narrations, a fierce attac : upon Burnet, which is full of inaccuracies and ill-temper, and some interesting particulars of Monmouth's imprisonment and execution. We daresay Mr. Rose could publish a volume or two of very interesting tracts, and can venture to predict that his collections will be much more popular than his Observations.

VINDICATION OF FOX'S HISTORY.

Vindication of Mr. Fox's History of the Early Part of the Reign of Fames the Second. By SAMUEL HEYWOOD, Serjeant-at-Law. 4to, pp. 424. London: Johnson & Co.

1811.

THOUGH Mr. Fox's history was, of course, as much open to animadversion and rebuke as any other book, the task, we think, would have become any other person better than Mr. Rose. The whole of Mr. Fox's life was spent in opposing the profligacy and exposing the ignorance of his own court. In the first half of his political career, while Lord North was losing America, and in the latter half, while Mr. Pitt was ruining Europe, the creatures of the Government were eternally exposed to the attacks of this discerning, dauntless, and most powerful speaker. Folly and corruption never had a more terrible enemy in the English House of Commons-one whom it was so impossible to bribe, so hopeless to elude, and so difficult to answer. Now it so happened that during the whole of this period the historical critic of Mr. Fox was employed in subordinate offices of Government; that the detail of taxes passed through his hands; that he amassed a large fortune by those occupations; and that, both in the measures which he supported and in the friends from whose patronage he received his emoluments, he was completely and perpetually opposed to Mr. Fox.

Again, it must be remembered that very great people have very long memories for the injuries which they receive, or which they think they receive. No speculation was so good, therefore, as to vilify the memory of Mr. Fox-nothing so delicious as to lower him in the public estimation-no service so likely to be well rewarded-so eminently grateful to those of whose favour Mr. Rose had so often tasted the sweets, and of the value of whose patronage he must, from long experience, have been so thoroughly aware.

We are almost inclined to think that we might at one time have worked ourselves up to suspect Mr. Rose of being actuated by some of these motives-not because we have any reason to think worse of that gentleman than of most of his political associates, but merely because it seemed to us so very probable that he should have been so influenced. Our suspicions, however, were entirely removed by the frequency and violence of his own protestations. He vows so solemnly that he has no bad motive in writing his critique, that we find it impossible to withhold our belief in his purity. But Mr. Rose does not trust to his protestations alone. He is not satisfied with assurances that he did not write his book from any bad motive, but he informs us that his motive was excellent-and is even obliging enough to tell us what that motive was. The Earl of Marchmont, it seems, was Mr. Rose's friend. To Mr. Rose he left his manuscripts, and among these manuscripts was a narrative written by Sir Patrick Hume, an ancestor of the Earl of Marchmont, and one of the leaders in Argyle's rebellion. Of Sir Patrick Hume Mr. Rosé conceives (a little erroneously to be sure, but he assures us he does conceive) Mr. Fox to have spoken disrespectfully; and the case comes out, therefore, as clearly as possible as follows.

Sir Patrick was the progenitor and Mr. Rose was the friend and sole executor of the Earl of Marchmont, and therefore, says Mr. Rose, I consider it as a sacred duty to vindicate the character of Sir Patrick, and, for that purpose, to publish a long and elaborate critique upon all the doctrines and statements contained in Mr. Fox's history? This appears to us about as satisfactory an explanation of Mr. Rose's authorship as the exclamation of the traveller was of the name of Stony Stratford. No wonder," said he, after a very bad night's rest, "that they call this place Stony Stratford, for I have been bitten to death by fleas."

Before Mr. Rose gave way to this intense value for Sir Patrick, and resolved to write a book, he should have inquired what accurate men there were about in society, and if he had once received the slightest notice of the existence of Mr. Samuel Heywood, serjeant-at-law, we are convinced he would have transfused into his own will and testament the feelings he derived from that of Lord Marchmont, and devolved upon another executor the sacred and dangerous duty of vindicating Sir Patrick Hume.

The life of Mr. Rose has been principally employed in the painful yet perhaps necessary duty of increasing the burdens of his fellow creatures. It has been a life of detail, onerous to the subject-onerous and lucrative to himself. It would be unfair to expect from one thus