tions here-who look for the consequences of ambition, as they appeared in the prominent characters of history, such as Cæsar, or Cromwell, Wolsey, or Richelieu, Buckingham, or the Guises-will be disappointed: for the tale, though not of the present, is comparatively of modern times, and of a civilized nation; and the effect of high civilization, like that of politeness in private life, is to reduce every thing as much as possible to a smooth surface and to comparative tranquillity. In times like these, there can be no very dazzling or overpowering virtues; no very atrocious crimes to record; in such times, we should in vain wish with Sallust, "præclari facinoris famam quærere." It follows, therefore, that the kind of ambition which is here chosen for a subject, must be totally wanting in splendour, and that the work, in point of events, can have little imposing belonging to it. Nevertheless, the human heart remains the same, under all appearances, and the study of it will ever excite our first and best interest. The less fertile, therefore, the time in great events, and the greater the refinement which manners assume, the greater may be the nicety required to unmask the heart, and unfold its operations; and thus it may become, in itself, a matter of more subtle interest. Still, where there is nothing to record but the common occurrences of a peaceable, civilized æra, there will undoubtedly be more difficulty in awakening the passions of the reader, than where his attention hangs on the grandeur of kingdoms, the fate of princes, and "The grappling vigour and rough frown of war." The action, however, in this work, is not confined to ambition. There is another passion, (if it may be called a passion,) in the pride of independence of De Vere, which challenges attention: for it bears up the hero under all his little reverses, and is the main cause of much of the action. As to the public characters mentioned, it is a pleasure to think that the unfavourable specimens of them are drawn from what men have been, not what they are. To look into the accounts formerly given by public men of themselves, as well as of each other, makes us tremble; and we are only consoled by the conviction that such accounts are deserved no longer. Were Halifax, therefore, or Bolingbroke, Swift, Chesterfield, Doddington, and Lord Orford, and, (would we were not forced to add to these!) that pattern of a highminded gentleman, Lord Waldegrave; if these were to revive, they would look in vain among our public characters for the prototypes from which they drew their portraits. The whole Walpolian and Pelham school is at an end, and the spirit in which the present work closes, includes no greater eulogy than may be said to be deserved by all our statesmen of later times. But the mention of this part of the subject, brings us to topics of fearful consequence, should they be viewed and judged of by prejudice rather than candour: for the production of ministers and public men on the scene, however ideal, or removed from the passing time, or even however distant from real likeness to individual character at any time, can hardly fail to produce effects which may be made most painful to the Author's feelings. He is aware that throughout the scenes of the work, (and they are many,) which are occupied with political ambition, he steps upon dangerous ground, "Per ignes suppositos doloso cineri." He therefore desires most seriously, distinctly, and without a reserve, to declare in the outset, once and for ever, that no particular person is meant to be portrayed by any of the Dramatis Personæ of this work. He declares once, and for ever, that he knows no such individuals as Wentworth or Beaufort; Mowbray or Cleveland; Lord Oldcastle or Clayton. But it may be said that certain known traits and anecdotes have been introduced, in connexion with partieular characters; and that these characters, therefore, must surely be intended to represent the persons, (whether alive or dead,) to whom the anecdotes actually apply. From this imputation, the Author can hardly expect to escape, when he recollects, that because the real name of Corporal Trim was stated to be James Butler, the world immediately fastened upon Sterne the design of representing the Duke of Ormond. Yet surely a real anecdote of one person may be engrafted on the history of another, without identifying the two; and to suppose the contrary, is as illogical as it may be uncharitable. A sufficiently striking illustration of this may be found in the present work, where an anecdote of the late Mr. Windham is made applicable to such a person as Clayton. Mr. Windham was, as is known, expressing his fears, that he was too downright for a public man; and Dr. Johnson, in jest, observed, "Never fear, Sir; I dare say, in time, you will make a very pretty rascal." But Mr. Windham was all honour; Clayton all deceit. Will, then, the application of the anecdote fix upon the author an intention of making the two characters the same? But there is a chronology, if not directly set forth, yet at least made cognizable by anecdotes and quotations, so that the reader may fix nearly the very year when some of the events happened. This could scarcely have been avoided; and the Author trusts to the candour of the reader, that he will not fix this upon him as a proof of things which he did not intend. All events must be in time; and if an imaginary story touch upon occurrences of a public nature, it will naturally fix its own chronology. But hard, indeed, would it be, that what is purely imaginary, must therefore be incrusted with the real body; and that a character, (perhaps even the most opposite to that really deserved,) should be allotted to any individual person. Some latitude ought surely to be allowed to an author in these respects, and he should be read only in the spirit in which he has written. To apply this, and have done. A searcher of dates may be able to say, that the epoch of De Vere is about the time of Lord Chatham's last administration; nay, that the resignation, from illness, and the hints in respect to former glory, plainly show that he himself is intended.* * Most unhappily for himself, his friends, and for the world, and to the Author's own grief, while almost in the act of writing the above, another severe illness, of another good and great person has also occurred, in a manner as unexpected as lamentable; and But though the last years of Lord Chatham's life may afford useful lessons to English ambition, all that the Author intended, in introducing a retiring great Minister upon the scene, was to paint generally, the intrigues which, according to the characters in his work, might be expected to follow such an event; not that those intrigues or characters were actually the same as in history. In the same manner it is necessary, in the work, to introduce a Chancellor, for the purpose of a solemn judgement; and a critic might, by the help of a political index, and an attention to the anecdotes scattered up and down the book, discover, that Lord Camden was probably Chancellor at the time; but still Lord Camden was not meant, for all that. These inconveniences, however great, are, from the nature of the subject, unavoidable, while the scene is at home, and the time, from internal evidence, specified. It is, therefore, against the improper use of this specification that the Author asks leave to protest; he lays a claim which he hopes will be allowed, to be permitted to use illustrative anecdotes, or emphatic dicta, as mere general materials, without being tied down to the consequences of their being specifically and incorrectly applied. Such applications might have been eluded, by laying the scene in another country, and in no specified æra; but the ambition and the persons described, would not then have been English ambition, or English persons; and though the inconveniences might be cured, the advantages would be lost. To remedy the inconvenience, and preserve the advantage, can only be accomplished through the candour of the reader, pondering the truth of these explanations. this illness may possibly lead to a most important resignation in the present time. It might really, therefore, require some can. dour, if left unexplained, to believe that what is described of the same nature, in the work, may not have been intended with particular allusions to the present day. All that can be said upon is, that the scene in the book was finished fourteen months ago, and actually in the press, before this last most sudden as well as unhappy event could have been even contemplated. it DE VERE. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. THE TOUR OF BEAUCLERK. Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe Let the issue show itself. MILTON. SHAKSPEARE. WHY, in my old age, I have proposed to myself to record the passages of the earlier life of a person deservedly most dear to me, it is of little consequence for the world to know; though it is from a far higher motive than mere amusement. But if I think it right to direct their publication, after I am no more, that is another question which ought to be explained. It is simply then, because, however my task may be performed, it seems to me that the early life of De Vere abounds in what may afford useful food for the heart; and exhibits that which no person can wish to imitate without being the better for it. With this reason for my undertaking, I shall, without further preface, proceed to relate how, in my early youth, I first became acquainted with him, and obtained his history up to that epoch. And though I almost immediately afterwards went abroad, and therefore was not an eye-witness of the important passages which directly followed, I shall proceed with the work to its close, as if I had been present, only assuring the reader, from the intimacy which afterwards grew between De Vere and myself, that my sources of information could not be more authentic. In the year 17, though just of age, and my own master, I grew, I know not why, tired of London; and, after finding that the Mall of St. James's Park, (every |