yers and scholars, who had given their support to his cause by their passive sufferings, as well as by their active exertions with tongue or pen, were in general amply rewarded. The noble historian of the great rebellion was created Lord Chancellor. The imprisoned divines were restored to their pulpits. Defenders of the faith and adherents of the king suddenly rose from the condition of country curates to the offices of bishop and archbishop: court poets were ennobled, and wits were in the ascendant.

But at the revolution arose another change; the whigs then came into power, and whig writers were favored accordingly. Addison and Steele were favorites with their party from their political tracts, as they were with the public from their wit, and humor, and style, and knowledge of life. Garth, the favorite whig physician, was also a popular poet. The same claim gave reputation even to the prosy blockhead, Blackmore; and both were knighted for their loyalty. The English La Fontaine (with greater licentiousness), Prior, was sent to France. Newton was made master of the mint, and the rest were well provided for. The great tory writers were continually depressed, and gained no favor from the public save that which their brilliant poems extorted. Among these were Pope; Swift, who never got beyond his deanship, because he could not stoop for a bishopric; the amiable humorist, Arbuthnot; the charming Gay; the pensive Parnell. Two tory leaders, Bolingbroke and Atterbury, were even driven into exile, from which the latter never returned.

Coming down to our own time, we may observe the close alliance between politics and law, and politics and literature. The great public characters of the state, of this century, have been for the most part originally lawyers:

the Cannings, and Peels, and Broughams of England, and the Adamses, the Pinckneys, and the Websters of America. Of letters, the chiefs too, the Scotts, and Wordsworths, the Coleridges, and Carlyles, the Hazlitts, and the Macauleys, have taken a deep interest in the issue of certain political questions, too often mere party questions. In many cases, the leaders in literature have held prominent offices in some one of the departments of government. The connection of poetry with politics is not hard to make out. The ardor of devotion, whether to a king or to a great abstract principle of right, in either case exerts a most important effect upon the imagination. Where power is embodied and personified, as in a kingly government, more outward pomp exhibited, but less by far of a high moral elevation of sentiment, than is seen in the severe beauty and stern dignity of republicanism. Cato is a nobler character for the mind to dwell upon than Charles of England; and George Washington is a greater name than Frederick or Catharine.

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A natural alliance is also easily formed between high churchmanship and royalty, and that poetry which is captivated by the splendor of both; and yet the finest description of cathedral music has come from the pen of a puritan poet (vide Il Penseroso): and the most eloquent passage on the French revolution from the tory poet Wordsworth.

The common objection, that literary pursuits incapacitate a man for business, has been long since refuted by Bacon and a host of writers down to the time of Addison. The accuracy and nicety that certain studies impart fit one admirably for the employment of legislation and diplomacy. The invariably good effects of meditation and study on mental discipline, and the growth of the intellectual powers, are also discernible in every human employment, and can unfit

a man for nothing. Poets alone, it may be conceded, if not originally gifted with a robust moral constitution, may easily allow an effeminate sense of beauty to obscure their sense of rugged truths. The greatest poets, however, Dante and Milton, have been the firmest political philosophers and patriots. The Moores and Cornwalls of the time, might easily sink and faint beneath the heat and burden of the day. In our own country, Bryant and Dana would fight to the last for the principles of justice and liberty our butterfly versifiers only would become intimidated by the frown, and quail beneath the glances of power. American authors of the first rank are, without exception, warm advocates of the principles of a pure democracy, untainted by any mixture of radicalism. There are Bancroft, the first historian; Channing, the finest moral essayist; Dewey, the greatest pulpit orator, and Hawthorne, the most original prose-poet, not only of our day, and of American literature, but of our age, and of English literature. These are all devoted to the cause of truth, liberty, justice, and public, as well as private honor.

Generally the selection of an ambassador at a foreign court is a matter left to mere hireling politicians, or determined on insufficient or impartial grounds. But the representative of a great nation should be a great man. Ingenuity is not so much wanted as innate tact directing solid wisdom. A gentleman is to be preferred before what is commonly called a genius. Where there are many ceremonials, less talent is wanted. Occasions arise, nevertheless, where profound sagacity is needed, and where the weight of character is invaluable. Still, where elegance of mind and of manners may both be found united; where a talent for negotiation and public business is farther set off by a bril

liant elocution, with a fund of intellectual resources and personal accomplishments,―there, we have a finished public character, and such we conceive to be no more than a just, though rough sketch, of our minister to England. Mr. Irving, we suspect, is less of a man of business, but he has other claims to prefer. He is the historian of Columbus: he has charmed thousands by his romantic tales and picturesque descriptions of Spain. His state duties will be in all probability much less arduous than those of his illustrious compeer, and consequently demand less of the diplo matic talent.

We conclude then, as we began, by congratulating our countrymen on the possession of such representations abroad: men to be honored and reverenced now, and to be known as classical writers and elegant gentlemen, to all future posterity.

VI.

THE PROSE STYLE OF POETS.

HAZLITT's view is, that poets write bad prose for a variety of reasons, which we will consider in order. In the course of his essay,* he lays down certain positions that we cannot regard as tenable, and shall consequently attempt to show their unsoundness. The paper was probably written to attract attention rather than to decide the dogma; it is brilliant and half true, but only half true. It contains some very fine special pleading, and certainly many valuable hints; but it is written to suit a theory, in defiance of facts, and from too narrow a generalization. We shall try to avoid doing injustice (even while advocating the opposite side) to the real merits of the essay; to dwell upon the beauty, acuteness and eloquence of which, might alone occupy the space of a separate criticism.

The principal arguments our critic employs to confirm his decision are these: Poets, in writing prose (strange as it seems), display a want of cadence, have no principle of modulation in the musical construction of their periods; but missing rhyme or blank verse, the regular accompaniment to which their words are to be said or sung, fall into a slovenly manner, devoid of art or melody. The prose

* On the same subject, and bearing the same title.