"The

that he founds a claim to our applause; Mysterious Mother" is a tragedy which, notwithstanding the unfortunate texture of its fable, makes a powerful impression on the mind, and exhibits evident marks of genius, as well as of close enquiry into the human heart. There is little doubt that, had the incidents admitted of representation, without too great a shock to the feelings, it would have become a standard play.

In his historical capacity he has displayed rather the keenness of the controversialist, and the ingenuity of the sceptic, than the requisite abilities for legitimate history. The "Historic Doubts concerning Richard the Third" have thrown, however, some new lights upon an intricate part of our annals, and have placed the person and character of the Usurper in a point of view considerably different from that in which they have been usually beheld.

To the class of antiquarian literature belong. "The Anecdotes of Painting and Engraving," and "A Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors;" the former, founded on the materials collected by Vertue, is conducted with peculiar taste and judgment, and has proved, in no slight degree, instrumental to the progress of these elegant arts; while the latter, by commemorating those of illustrious rank who have been remarkable for literary

genius, may have contributed to excite among our youthful nobility a more undivided attention to the liberal pursuits of learning. The "Catalogue" of Walpole has lately served as the basis of an elaborate work, on a somewhat similar, but more extended, plan, by Mr. Park. This edition, with the continuation, occupies five volumes octavo, and is embellished with a number of highly-finished portraits.

In the year 1764 our author produced the most popular of his original works, the "Castle of Otranto," a tale which has given origin to a thousand imitations. It was at first brought before the public as a translation, by William Marshall, Gent. from the original Italian of Onuphrio Muralto; but its favourable reception soon unmasked the real author, who, in a second edition, came forward in propria persona. It is said to have been written in eight. evenings; but the following extract from a letter, by Mr. Walpole, dated March 9, 1765, presents us with a more probable period for its composition: "Shall I confess to you what was the origin of this romance? I waked one morning in the beginning of last June from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient cas, tle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with gothic story); and that on the upper,

most banister of a great staircase, I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat down, and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew fond of it. Add, that I was very glad to think of any thing rather than politics. In short, I was so engrossed with my tale, which I completed in less than two months, that one evening I wrote from the time I had drank my tea, about six o'clock, till half an hour after one in the morning; when my hands and fingers were so weary, that I could not hold the pen to finish the sentence, but left Matilda and Isabella talking in the middle of a paragraph.*

The imagination and the developement of character displayed in this little romance have much merit; but the machinery is too forcibly obtruded, and too frequently employed; it even occasionally excites a ludicrous association of ideas; an effect ever fatal to the interest of a narrative of which the principal object is to excite terror.

It would appear from the care which Mr. Walpole took to preserve a complete copy of his correspondence, that he entertained a high idea of its merits; it certainly displays no small por

Biographical Preface to Walker's edition of the Old English Baron and Castle of Otranto, p. 13.

tion of vivacity, and is, at the same time, characteristic of its author's taste, habits, and peculiarities; but it is deficient in simplicity, and too often flippant and sarcastic.

The nine papers which Mr. Walpole contributed to the World do not give him a claim to any very distinguished rank as an essayist. They are chiefly ironical; and of these, N° 103 on Politeness, and No 195 on Suicide, are the best. The character of Boncœur in N° 103 was designed for Norborne Berkeley, who, we are told in the fifth volume of our author's works, on sinking with his horse up to the middle in Woburnpark, declared that it was only a little damp; the sufferer also from the attack of Maclean the robber, and the story of the Visiting Highwayman, in the same number, were circumstances founded on fact; the former occurring to Walpole himself, and the latter to Mrs. Cavendish.

Of the style of our author, though it has been: praised, both in these numbers, and in his numerous other works, we cannot speak highly in favour; it is not only occasionally inelegant, and incorrect, but even frequently, from a perpetual affectation of ease, assumes a vulgar garb; thus the indefinite nominative one is constantly occurring, and sometimes commences a sentence three or

four times in immediate succession; as in No 160, "One can scarce reflect"-" One must not word"-One might even suppose."

Another and more serious objection to Mr. Walpole as an Essayist is, the pruriency of imagination which he has occasionally indulged: the paper just quoted for its defect in style is one of these; though it is but candid to state, that it was originally disapproved by its author; who, in a letter to General Conway, thus accounts for its publication: "My Lady A. flatters me extremely about my WORLD, but it has brought me into a peck of troubles. In short, the goodnatured town have been pleased to lend me a meaning, and call my Lord Bute Sir Eustace. I need not say how ill the story tallies to what they apply it; but I do vow to you, that so far from once entering into my imagination, my only apprehension was, that I should be suspected of flattery for the compliment to the princess in the former part. It is the more cruel, because you know it is just the thing in the world in which one must not defend one's self. If I might, I can prove that the paper was writ last Easter, long before this history was ever mentioned, and flung by because I did not like it. I mentioned it one night to my lady Hervey, which was the occasion of its being printed."*

*Lord Orford's Works, vol. 5. p. 46.