land are for monarchy, and therefore I shall always take care to defend and support it." While he retained this opinion of its loyalty, accordingly, he did defend and support it; and did persecute all dissidents from its doctrine, at least as violently as he afterwards did those who opposed Popery. It was only when he found that the orthodox doctrines of non-resistance and jus divinum would not go all lengths, and that even the bishops would not send his proclamations to their clergy, that he came to class them with the rest of the heretics, and to rely entirely upon the slavish votaries of the Roman superstition. The next set of remarks are introduced for the purpose of showing that Mr. Fox has gone rather too far in stating that the object both of Charles and James in taking money from Louis, 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 show 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 M. 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 his 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 do 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 an 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 Grissel; 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: dress't 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 harpsichord 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 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 attack 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.

EDGEWORTH'S PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION.
(E. REVIEW, October, 1809.)

Essays on Professional Education. By R. L. EDGEWORTH, Esq., F.R.S., &c. 4to, pp. 446.
London. 1809.

THERE are two questions to be asked respecting every new publication-Is it worth buying? Is it worth borrowing? and we would advise our readers to weigh diligently the importance of these interrogations before they take any decided step as to this work of Mr. Edgeworth; the more especially as the name carries with it considerable authority, and seems, in the estimation of the unwary, almost to include the idea of purchase. For our own part, we would rather decline giving a direct answer to these questions; and shall content ourselves for the present with making a few such slight observations as may enable the sagacious to conjecture what our direct answer would be, were we compelled to be more explicit.

An eminent maker of that time,

One great and signal praise we think to be the eminent due of Mr. Edgeworth. In à canting age he does not cant ;-at a period when hypocrisy and fanaticism will almost certainly insure the success of any publication, he has constantly disdained to have recourse to any such arts;-without even having been accused of disloyalty or irreligion, he is not always harping upon Church and King, in order to catch at a little popularity, and sell his books;-he is manly, independent, liberal-and maintains enlightened opinions with discretion and honesty. There is also in this work of Mr. Edgeworth an agreeable diffusion of anecdote and example, such as a man acquires who reads with a view to talking or writing. With these merits, we cannot say that Mr. Edgeworth is either very new, very profound, or very apt to be right in his opinion. He is active. enterprising, and unprejudiced; but we have not been very much instructed by what he has written, or always satisfied that he has got to the bottom of his subject.

On one subject, however, we cordially agree with this gentleman, and return him our thanks for the courage with which he has combated the excessive abuse of classical learning in England. It is a subject upon which we have long wished for an opportunity of saying something; and one which we consider to be of the very highest importance.

"The principal defect," says Mr. Edgeworth, "in the present system of our great schools, is that they devote too large a portion of time to Latin and Greek. It is true, that the attainment of classical literature is highly desirable; but it should not, or rather it need not, be the exclusive object of boys during eight or nine years.

"Much less time, judiciously managed, would give them an acquaintance with the classics sufficient for all useful purposes, and would make them as good scholars as gentlemen or professional men need to be. It is not requisite that every man should make Latin or Greek verses; therefore, a knowledge of prosody beyond the structure of hexameter and pentameter verses is as worthless an acquisition as any which folly or fashion has introduced amongst the higher classes of mankind. It must indeed be acknowledged that there are some rare exceptions; but even party prejudice would allow that the persons alluded to must have risen to eminence though they had never written sapphics or iambics. Though preceptors, parents, and the public in general may be convinced of the absurdity of making boys spend so much of life in learning what can be of no use to them; such are the difficulties of making any change in the ancient rules of great establishments, that masters themselves, however reasonable, dare not, and cannot, make sudden alterations.

"The only remedies that can be suggested might be, perhaps, to take those boys, who are not intended for professions in which deep scholarship is necessary, away from school before they reach the highest classes, where prosody and Greek and Latin verses are required.

In the college of Dublin, where an admirable course of instruction has been long esta blished, where this course is superintended by men of acknowledged learning and abilities, and pursued by students of uncommon industry, such is the force of example, and such the fear of appearing inferior in trifles to English universities, that much pains have been lately taken to introduce the practice of writing Greek and Latin verses, and much solicitude has been shown about the prosody of the learned languages, without any attention being paid to the prosody of our own.

"Boarding-houses for the scholars at Eton and Westminster, which are at present mere lodging-houses, might be kept by private tutors, who might, during the hours when the boys were not in their public classes, assist them in acquiring general literature, or such knowJedge as might be advantageous for their respective professions.

New schools that are not restricted to any established routine, should give a fair trial to experiments in education which afford a rational prospect of success. If nothing can be altered in the old schools, leave them as they are. Destroy nothing-injure none-but let the public try whether they cannot have something better. If the experiment do not succeed, the public will be convinced that they ought to acquiesce in the established methods of instruction, and parents will send their children to the ancient seminaries with increased confidence." (Pp. 47-49.)

We are well aware that nothing very new can remain to be said upon a topic so often debated. The complaints we have to make are at least as old as the time of Locke and Dr. Samuel Clarke; and the evil which is the subject of these complaints has certainly rather increased than diminished since the period of those two great men. A hundred years, to be sure, is a very little time for

the duration of a national error; and it is so far from being reasonable to look for its decay at so short a date, that it can hardly be expected, within such limits, to have displayed the full bloom of its imbecility.

There are several feelings to which attention must be paid, before the question of classical learning can be fairly and temperately discussed.

We are apt, in the first place, to remember the immense benefits which the study of the classics once conferred on mankind; and to feel for those models on which the taste of Europe has been formed, something like sentiments of gratitude and obligation. This is all well enough, so long as it continues to be a mere feeling; but, as soon as it interferes with action, it nourishes dangerous prejudices about education. Nothing will do in the pursuit of knowledge but the blackest ingratitude;—the moment we have got up the ladder, we must kick it down ;-as soon as we have passed over the bridge, we must let it rot ;-when we have got upon the shoulders of the ancients, we must look over their heads. The man who forgets the friends of his childhood in real life is base; but he who clings to the props of his childhood in literature must be content to remain ignorant as he was when a child. His business is to forget, disown, and deny-to think himself above everything which has been of use to him in time past-and to cultivate that exclusively from which he expects future advantage: in short, to do everything for the advancement of his knowledge, which it would be infamous to do for the advancement of his fortune. If mankind still derive advantage from classical literature proportionate to the labour they bestow upon it, let their labour and their study proceed; but the moment we cease to read Latin and Greek for the solid utility we derive from them, it would be a very romantic application of human talents to do so from any feeling of gratitude, and recollection of past service.

To almost every Englishman up to the age of three or four and twenty, classical learning has been the great object of existence; and no man is very apt to suspect, or very much pleased to hear, that what he has done for so long a time was not worth doing. His classical literature, too, reminds every man of the scenes of his childhood, and brings to his fancy several of the most pleasing associations which we are capable of forming. A certain sort of vanity, also, very naturally grows among men occupied in a common pursuit. Classical quotations are the watchwords of scholars, by which they distinguish each other from the ignorant and illiterate; and Greek and Latin are insensibly become almost the only test of a cultivated mind.

Some men through indolence, others through ignorance, and most through necessity, submit to the established education of the times; and seek for their children that species of distinction which happens, at the period in which they live, to be stamped with the approbation of mankind. This mere question of convenience every parent must determine for himself. A poor man, who has his fortune to gain, must be a quibbling theologian, or a classical pedant, as fashion dictates; and he must vary his error with the error of the times. But it would be much more fortunate for mankind, if the public opinion which regulates the pursuits of individuals were more wise and enlightened than it at present is.

All these considerations make it extremely difficult to procure a candid hearing on this question; and to refer this branch of education to the only proper criterion of every branch of education-its utility in future life.

There are two questions which grow out of this subject: 1st, How far is any sort of classical education useful? 2nd, How far is that particular classical education, adopted in this country, useful?

Latin and Greek are, in the first place, useful, as they inure children to