straight to his other place of Glyndourdy, to seek for him there. There we burnt a fine lodge in his park and the whole country round. And we remained there all that night. And certain of our people sallied forth and took a gentleman of high degree of that country, who was one of the said Owyn's chieftains. This person offered five hundred pounds for his ransom to save his life, and to pay that sum within two weeks. Nevertheless, that was not accepted, and he was put to death; and several of his companions, who were taken the same day, shared the same fate. We then proceeded to the commote of Edirnyon in Merionethshire, and there laid waste a fine and populous country; thence we went to Powys, and there being in Wales a want of provender for horses, we made our people carry oats with them, and we tarried there for days." www.asshattere letom o zois

Allusion has already been made to Henry's persecutions unto the death of numbers who suffered for their religious belief, his own bigotry and his subservience to the priesthood lending his name an unenviable notoriety in this respect.

In proof of the uncertainty and vagueness which attach to Henry's early history, we need only mention that the place of his birth is doubtful, a wardrobe account shewing that his father resided at the Castle of Monmouth within a year of the presumed period of the Prince's birth, together with certain traditions, being the principal evidence on the subject. Here we quote some curious particulars concerning the castle now named.

"Of Monmouth Castle, the dwindling ruins are now very scanty; and, in point of architecture, present nothing worthy of an antiquary's research. They are washed by the streams of the Monnow, and are embosomed in gardens and orchards, clothing the knoll on which they stand; the aspect of the southern walls, and the rocky character of the soil admirably adapting them for the growth of the vine, and the ripening of its fruits. In the memory of some old inhabitants, who were not gathered to their fathers when the Author could first take an interest in such things, and who often amused his childhood with tales of former days, the remains of the Hall of Justice were still traceable within the narrowed pile; and the crumbling bench on which the Justices of the circuit once sate, was often usurped by the boys in their mock trials of judge and jury. Somewhat more than half a century ago, a gentleman whose garden reached to one of the last remaining towers, had reason to be thankful for a marked interposition in his behalf of the protecting hand of Providence. He was enjoying himself on a summer's evening in an alcove built under the shelter and shade of the castle, when a gust of wind blew out the candle by his side, just at the time when he felt disposed to relinquish and rekindle his pipe. He went, consequently, with the lantern in his hand towards his house, intending to renew his evening's recreation; but he had scarcely reached the door when the wall fell, burying his retreat, and the entire slope, with its shrubs, and flowers, and fruits, under one mass of ruin."

It is uncertain where the Prince received his education; and,

indeed, hardly anything but what the fertile imaginations of chro nicles have bequeathed us is known of him until his father is seated on the throne, and he is created Prince of Wales. There is reason for believing, however, that he remained in the hands of Richard, a sort of state prisoner, during the banishment of his father. At length the weak monarch, who was about to be dethroned, seems to have formed a partiality for the young man; for we read in reference to the sudden return from exile of the Prince's father,

Either before the Earl of Salisbury's departure, or, as is the more probable, towards the last of those eighteen days through which afterwards, to the ruin of his cause, Richard wasted his time (the only time left him), in Ireland, he sent for Henry of Monmouth, and upbraided him with his father's treason. Otterbourne minutely records the conversation which is said then to have passed between them. Henry, my child,” said the King, see what your father has done to me. He has actually invaded my land as an enemy, and, as if in regular warfare, has taken captive and put to death my liege subjects without mercy and pity. Indeed, child, for you individually I am very sorry; because, for this unhappy proceeding of your father, you must perhaps be deprived of your inheritance. To whom Henry, though a boy, replied in no boyish manner, In truth, my gracious king and lord, I am sincerely grieved by these tidings; and, as I conceive, you are fully assured of my innocence in this proceeding of my father.'-I know,' replied the King, that the crime which your father has perpetrated does not attach at all to you, and therefore I hold you excused altogether.'

We shall not go further into Mr. Tyler's Memoirs of Henry of Monmouth; only intimating that an examination of this new and zealous biography has not increased our romantic and favourable associations on the subject. Bolingbroke appears throughout, the crafty, subtle, and unprincipled person which general history has represented, although one or two features or facts are brought to light by our author, upon which the mind loves to dwell, and that tend to soften our opinion of a man who had a most turbulent people to govern, and a most uneasy throne to occupy. Here is a case of gratitude that is as rare as it is beautiful, when a haughty and deeply-offended personage has it in his power to be revenged.

"In this year (1381) Bolingbroke's life was put into imminent perif during the insurrection headed by Wat Tiler. The rebels broke into the Tower of London, though it was defended by some brave knights and soldiers seized and murdered the Archbishop and others; and, carrying the heads of their victims on pikes, proceeded in a state of fury to John of Gaunt's palace at the Savoy, which they utterly destroyed and burnt to the ground. Gaunt himself was in the North; but his son Bolingbroke was in the Tower of London, and owed his life to the interposition of one John Ferrour of Southwark. This is a fact not generally known to bistorians; and since the document which records it bears testimony to, Bolingbroke's spirit of gratitude, it will not be thought out of place to

allude to it here. This same John Ferrour, with Sir Thomas Blount and others, was tried in the Castle of Oxford for high treason, in the first year of Henry the Fourth. Blount and the others were condemned and executed; but to John Ferrour a free pardon, dated Monday after the Epiphany, was given; our Lord the King remembering that, in the reign of Richard the Second, during the insurrection of the counties of Essex and Kent, the said John saved the King's life in the midst of that commonalty, in a wonderful and kind manner, whence the King happily remains alive unto this day. For since every good whatever naturally and of right requires another good in return, the King of his especial grace freely pardons the said John.""

In conclusion, while we have to repeat our praise of Mr. Tyler's industry and zeal, and our high estimation of his antiquarian knowledge, and to welcome the appearance of such valuable efforts to make the world fully acquainted with the characters of illustrious men, and the true nature of celebrated events, we must also add, that owing to the accidents of war, the ignorance or carelessness of individuals, the general want of appreciation on the part of the public, such labours as are now before us must generally prove deficient and unsatisfactory. An illustration is at hand.

“Many ancient documents (of the existence of which in past years, often not very remote, there can be no doubt,) now, unhappily for those who would bring the truth to light, are in a state of abeyance or of perdition. To mention only one example, the work of Peter Basset, who was Chamberlain to Henry the Fifth, and attended him in his wars, referred to by Goodwin, and reported to be in the library of the College of Arms, is no longer in existence; at least it has disappeared, and not a trace of it can be found there."

ART. XI.-The Congress of Verona: comprising a Portion of Memoirs of his own Times. By M. De CHATEAUBRIAND. In 2 vols. don Bentley. 1838.

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In every thing which M. de Chateaubriand has written, there are many things which we admire, perhaps more which we dislike, but most of all does he contribute to our amusement, and to our stock of knowledge, in regard to curious characteristics of individuals and nations. His poetic temperament, his brilliancies of fancy, are not only according to a rare species of idiosyncracy, but have as unmistakable a French air about them, as his egotism, his conceit, and his affectations. His eloquence is full of bursts, sometimes natural, sometimes artificial, but seldom otherwise than striking, on account of the variety or originality of his illustrations; and he always appears to be in earnest and sincere. But he is sparkling rather than intense, and superficial instead of being profound; while his imagination for the most part get the better of his logic, and not

unfrequently reaches such a degree of extravagance as to mystify or contradict the truth. Owing to these and other faults of taste, style, and principle, M. de Chateaubriand's literary eminence is never hikely to be very great in any country except in France, and even there it is not held first-rate, unless it be in one, the romantic school.

As a politician M. de C. has shown himself to be honest and consistent; to be proud of his creed, and to be bold in avowing it. But he is as romantic, as mystical, and as abstract in this depart ment for mental exercise, and the discovery of remedies and resources, as some other great men of ardent and imaginative temperaments are straightforward and practical. In short, he is a rhetorician, whether we take him in a literary or political capacity, a rhetorician who deals far oftener in glosses than in substantialities and. tangibles.

The reader may take it at once for granted that our author's estimate of himself is very different from what any sober-minded, or matter-of-fact Englishman will entertain, whether his literary or political rank be regarded. In fact M. de C. intimates in his pre sent work, that while this is the last as well as the first time that he speaks of his political life, he anticipates that it will produce a revo lution in the European mind in regard to the merits of the Spanish War of 1823, of which he believes and proclaims himself to have been the instigator and author. A greater piece of self-conceit and self-deceit cannot easily be instanced. He had, to be sure, a pretty sort of paper and scissors or apple-pie-crust work ready, which, had Canning and others not deranged thwarted and spoiled, was to have produced and perpetuated miracles not only in Europe but in America. But although his fine speculations and imaginary kingdoms, empires, and colonies have not been realised, and are doomed. never to be established, he is determined that his schemes shall not be forgotten or lost sight of, and therefore publishes that portion of his Memoirs which he conceives will revive an interest in the French" invasion of Spain, and in his general principles of diplomacy.

Our readers cannot expect us to go into any serious argument upon the merits of that most unpopular campaign; or even that we should strive to divest M. de C. of his self-complacency regarding his active share in its promotion. A far more agreeable and interesting course will be to select some of his dissertations, discourses, and anecdotes, in each and all of which there is something that is new or suggestive, or at least clever and amusing.

These Memoirs, as already intimated, have for their main subject the French invasion of Spain, and the Spanish war, in 1823. Under this head the author finds himself called upon to discourse of the laws, the history, and the character of the Spaniards,-of the debates in the French Chambers, his diplomatic correspondence! and arrangements, the transactions or intrigues at Verona, of the

consequences arising from the measures devised by the Holy Allies, and of a variety of matters which memory and imagination have enabled the lively author to dress to the best advantage according to his own style, I myself uniformly coming forward prominently in all that is said and done.

Without inquiring or caring particularly about the influence and hand which the quondam French Minister for Foreign Affairs had in the invasion of Spain by the Duke D'Angouleme, it is quite evi dent that a great and indeed the principal design was to thwart Mr. Canning in his grand scheme of acknowledging the independence of the South American Colonies, and thereby to prevent England from reaping her contemplated commercial advantages. Canning marked and understood the spirit of the age; and he accommodated hist measures in such a way as seemed to him best fitted to follow preu vailing tendencies, simultaneously with benefiting his country. Canning and M. de C. have often been compared to one another, and by some have been supposed kindred men in regard to genius and political principle. But surely it requires no new argument and no new illustrations to convince persons who are conversant with the writings or the public career of both, that the resemblances were very few and merely accidental; whereas the differences between them were as numerous and essential,-in reference to their legislative capacities and habits, for example, as romance is dif ferent from reality. The two, however, were similiar in this, that each professed a steady and strong personal friendship for the other. From all that we have heard or read of the English statesman, he was sincere in this profession, while it now is manifest from the Memoirs before us that the Frenchman entertained the feelings of a rival, and that his jealousies were often excited. Hear how he connects Canning's name and conduct :

"Mr. Canning ventured to make, in our (that is M. de Chateaubriand's) behalf, a paltry, shameful excuse, saying that the French Government was culpable, but that it was not right to confound me with that government: this was true in a very different sense from that intended by the speaker. His Britannic Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs, in alluding to Mr. Brougham's speech, applied to us the comic expressions of Moleire, which we have already quoted :-Thou wouldst have it so, George Dandin!""

He also speaks of Canning's rivalry in the mere matter of writing diplomatic notes, saying that he warned his clerks to mind what they were about when preparing despatches for the French Minister. In another place Canning's ill-temper is alleged to be increased ; and, again, the evil genius that is declared to have got possession of England is plainly enough identified with the possessor of this ill temper,