translation; with its defects, inherent in servility, and its merits, consisting in fidelity. On the words ev avle, translated in the interval,' the author observes in a note, 6 or it may mean within himself.' -We feel some difficulty in assenting to this conjecture; independently of the circumstance that Aristotle would have been more likely to have used the reciprocal pronoun in the dative case, had he intended the word to be applied to the person and not the time. We conceive that not only his style but that of other Greek writers would have led us to expect the nominative dulos, had the application of the word been to the individual. Οὕτω δὴ καὶ τῇ πατρὸς, καὶ τῶν φίλων φαμὲν ἔχειν λόγον, καὶ οὐκ ὥσπερ τῶν μαθηματικῶν. Lib. i. c. 13. Thus too we say that a man pays regard to his father and friends, and not as he pays regard to the mathematical sciences.' P. 28. In the former of these cases, observes the translator, the words λóyov xe may be taken literally, and a man may be said λόγον έχειν το παρὸς, to ' employ the reason of his father. No explanation of the phrase, parallel to this latter, occurs to our recollection; and the former is the commonest interpretation. Εκαςος δὲ ἑαυτῷ βέλεται ταγαθά. Γένομενος δε ἀλλος, έδεις αἱροιτ ̓ ἂν πάντ ̓ ἔχειν ἐκεινο τὸ γένομενον. Lib. ix. c. 4. Thus rendered in the version of Lambinus: "Sibi autem quisque bene vult evenire; sed nullus est, qui si alius, quam qui prius erat, effectus fuerit, optet id, in quod commutatus sit, bonis omnibus abundare." This is explained by one of the commentators to signify that, if this man were changed into some inferior animal, he would not then wish for all those things which as a man he esteemed desirable, but only for those which were suitable to his new condition. The present translators give us entirely the converse meaning, which they deem most adapted both to the language of Aristotle and to the context. No one, were he to become another person, would wish that which he was before, to possess every thing.' P. 224. We confess that we are not satisfied with either of these interpretations, and are rather inclined to think that the commentator, whom we have cited, has given the general sense, though not directly deducible, as the words now stand, from the text. If we merely suppose that some particle, the word aλλa for instance, has been lost before the word xevo, the passage immediately becomes very easy of solution: No man in his state of metamorphosis wishes to have all kinds of N 3 excel excellence, (such as he desired in his state as a rational creature,) ἀλλ' έκεινο τὸ γενόμενον, — but that which belongs to this new condition; « Και περὶ μὲν τόυλων ἐπὶ τοσῆλον διωρίσθω.” ART. VII. Historical Memoirs of My Own Time, from 1772 to March 1784. By Sir Nathaniel William Wraxall, Bart. Third Edition, revised and corrected. 8vo. 3 Vols. 21. 2s. Boards. Cadell. FARCE, Tragedy, and Comedy, united against one poor parson, are fearful odds," said Horne Tooke to Junius; and with such odds, even against the bold heart of a baronet, and a veteran in political and literary warfare, it might not savour much of courage to join an alliance already too powerful in hostility to him. While Count Woronzow's prosecution for a libel hung over Sir N. Wraxall's head, we abstained from noticing this work; fearing that any animadversion calculated to expose its frequent disregard to the character, feelings, and memory of public men, although not bearing immediate reference to the actual case sub judice, might nevertheless have an undue tendency to influence the public mind at a very critical juncture. The law has had its course, and Sir Nathaniel has suffered the penalties arising from his offence: but the consequence to us of having postponed the notice of his memoirs is that we now find ourselves anticipated in many of the reflections, which we should have deemed it necessary to make on them. Enough, however, yet remains for animadversion: but it is rather with the view of announcing the author's statement, that by very attentively revising and correcting the present edition of his Memoirs, he has endeavoured to avoid the errors of his first,' than of entering into a detailed and minute examination of the book itself, that we now make it the subject of an article. Prefixed to this edition are Three Letters to the Reviewers.' "Tender-handed touch a nettle, It will sting you for your pains; And it soft as silk remains." Sir Nathaniel has had the courage to act on the old poet's advice, but has nevertheless been woefully stung. It must be acknowleged, indeed, that he is singularly unfortunate; for he has not escaped either Scylla or Charybdis, but, while struggling with bruises and lacerations from the rocks on one side, side, has been engulphed in the boiling vortex on the other. We shall not, however, break through our settled rule of never interfering with brother-critics, and shall endeavour only to fulfil our own duty with regard to the publication before us, sincerely wishing that the discharge of it were in this instance more pleasant than it is likely to turn out. The Baronet attributes the castigation which he has received from all parties, to his not being a party-man: I well know that I have neither conciliated the followers of Pitt, of Fox, or of Lord North; of course, in the spirit of party I can hope for no asylum.' Again; speaking of the character which he has drawn of Mr. Fox, he says, I have nothing to retract or to alter in that character; it is impartial, just, candid, neither dictated by flattery nor tinctured in any feature by enmity. I respect myself too much to lend my pen to the base degradation of party, or to the vile arts of misrepresentation. The only recommendation of my work is its truth.' We cannot but be surprized to find this self-soothing paragraph in the very identical page in which Mr. Fox is broadly and unjustly charged with having taken under his protection, during the French Revolution, insurrection, jacobinism, regicide, and anarchy' Is this the calm and sober language of an historian ? Sir N. Wraxall has been blamed for the impurity of many of his anecdotes, and he is now to be censured for defending it. If it is meant to insinuate,' says he, that I convey improper information to the other sex, then, the works of Shakspeare, Otway, and Congreve, must be interdicted, and still more the productions of Pope, and of Swift, and of Prior.' Without the aid of immodest words, we find scattered through these pages the most immodest allusions; and it would have given us much greater pleasure to have seen Sir Nathaniel endeavouring to repress his propensity for chamber-maid disclosures and brothel-anecdotes, than trying to protect himself under so poor an excuse for indelicacy as that which we have just transcribed. Can he be unaware that the moral refinement of modern times has rendered necessary an excision of the impurities of Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, and other dramatists of a former age, before their plays are suffered to be exhibited at the theatre? Or does he really think that the indecencies of Swift and Prior, Smollett and Fielding, are to be ranked among the beauties rather than the blemishes of their works; or that they constitute for him a justification of similar outrages on propriety and decorum? We may be told that this is too sweeping and vague a charge, that we ought to be explicit, and indicate the particular anecdotes of which we complain: but, rather than point to the numerous indelicacies which still taint these pages, we will submit to any imputation of unfairness. These Memoirs begin at the year 1772, when Sir Nathaniel went to Portugal, and passed a considerable time in the capital of that kingdom, or in its vicinity. Joseph then sat on the throne, the Marquis de Pombal being his minister; and the author's account of the royal family, the amusements, manners, and characters of the court, is sufficiently entertaining. Although Joseph was at this time fifty-eight years old, and his queen, Marianna Victoria, equally advanced, the latter watched every movement of her husband with all the jealous anxiety of a young woman. The maids of honour were apparently selected for their want of personal attractions, in order that his Majesty might not be exposed to any temptation within the walls of his own palace; and The Queen displayed similar apprehensions against any rival or intruder in the King's affections, whenever he went out to the chace. Whether the diversion was hunting, or shooting, or falconing, she was constantly at his side. No woman in Europe indeed rode bolder, or with more skill. Her figure almost defied the powers of description, on these occasions. She sat astride, as was the universal custom in Portugal, and wore English leather breeches; frequently black; over which she threw a petticoat which did not always conceal her legs. A jacket of cloth, or of stuff, and a cocked hat, sometimes laced, at other times without ornament, compleated the masculine singularity of her appearance. When, after having let loose the falcon, she followed him with her eye in his flight, she always threw the reins on her horse's neck; allowing him to carry her wherever he pleased, fearless of accidents. She was admitted to be an excellent shot, seldom missing the bird at which she fired, even when flying; but this diversion had nearly produced a most tragical result; as, a few years before I visited Portugal, she very narrowly missed killing the King with a ball, which actually grazed his temple.' If the natural disposition of Joseph might give occasion to the Queen's jealousy, that feeling was possibly heightened by a consciousness of the inferior order of her own charms. • Marianna Victoria was said to have been very agreeable in her person, when young; but in 1772 no traces remained of that beauty. Her figure was short and thick, her face red; her nose large, and her manner destitute of softness or elegance. There was, indeed, nothing feminine in her appearance or demeanour. Nevertheless, her eyes, which were dark, lively, and piercing, retained their original lustre. She wore a profusion of rouge; her neck and shoulders, whether at church, at the opera, or at a bullfeast, being always bare; and she seemed to be not only in pos session session of health, but capable of supporting the roughest exercise, or most severe fatigue. Her arms were brown and sun-burnt, from her perpetually following the chace.' Sir Nathaniel thinks that it is unfortunate for the fame of Louis the Fifteenth, that he has been principally tried and estimated by that inglorious portion of his life,' the last four years of it; which were passed in a manner worthy of Sardanapalus; oblivious of his public duties, insensible to national glory, and lost to every sentiment of private virtue or even decorum; an object of contempt and opprobrium to his own subjects.' It is, however, always thus: we estimate a man's character rather by the latter than the early period of his life. The follies, the errors, the vices even to a certain extent of a young man, and particularly of a young monarch nursed in the lap of luxury, are regarded with a venial eye by the indulgence of the public; for they fondly hope to see them redeemed by some exemplary and lofty virtues, when the effervescence of youth has subsided, and the judgment of maturer years has impressed on his mind the dignity, the high functions, and the responsibility of his situation: but mankind has no indulgence for a hoary satyr; and age, if we may be allowed to quote a splendid passage from the first Lord Chatham, becomes justly contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice prevails when the passions have subsided. Much more is he to be abhorred who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes himself for that which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. Such was Louis XV.; whose death, though acknowleged by the author to have been hailed by the French as the era of their liberation from a yoke equally disgraceful and severe, seems nevertheless to excite his regret: We may safely assume,' says he, that Louis the Fifteenth, who had refused to join Charles the Third of Spain in 1770, when every circumstance invited him to a rupture with England; and who was known to have taken an unalterable determination of terminating his life in peace; we may be assured that such a Prince, at sixty-eight or seventy, would not have sent La Fayette and Rochambeau across the Atlantic, there to imbibe the principles of rebellion and republicanism, with which they returned to inoculate France, and to subvert the throne. Louis the Sixteenth, only four years after his accession, in 1778, embraced, though against his own judgment, this pernicious and improvident measure, from which, in an eminent degree, flowed the destruction of his house.' The |