rhyme; and although there is something of the new Persian odors, breathing from the myrtle wreaths of a muse, whom ' displicant nexæ philyrâ coronæ,' yet, unlike what we felt inclined to blame in Jacqueline' and the Human Life,' we see nothing that reminds us of individual traits in another; nothing that reminds us of Byron, though he strung his harp to the same theme; nothing that recalls any contemporaneous writer, unless it be occasionally Wordsworth, in Wordsworth's purer, if not loftier vein we see no harsh, constrained abruptness, emulating vigor; no childish mirauderies, that would gladly pass themselves off for simplicity. Along the shores and palaces of old glides one calm and serene tide of verse, wooing to its waters every legend and every stream that can hallow and immortalize.

"This poem differs widely from the poems of the day, in that it is wholly void of all that is meretricious. Though nature itself could not be less naked of ornament, yet nature itself could not be more free from all ornament that is tinsel or inappropriate. A contemplative and wise man, skilled in all the arts, and nursing all the beautiful traditions of the past, having seen enough of the world to moralize justly, having so far advanced in the circle of life as to have supplied emotion with meditation, telling you, in sweet and serene strains, all that he sees, hears and feels, in journeying through a country which nature and history combine to consecrate, this is the character of Rogers' Italy; and the reader will see at once how wholly it differs in complexion from the solemn Harold, or the impassioned Corinne. This poem is perfect as a whole; it is as a whole that it must be judged; its tone, its depth, its hoard of thought and description, make its main excellence, and these are the merits that no short extracts can adequately convey.

"Of all things, perhaps the hardest in the world for a poet to effect is to gossip poetically. We are those who think it is in this that Wordsworth rarely succeeds, and Cowper as rarely fails. This graceful and difficult art Rogers has made his own to a degree almost unequalled in the language.

"With the author of The Pleasures of Memory a banker, a wit, a man of high social reputation—we find it is from the stony heart of the great world that the living waters of a pure and transparent

poetry have been stricken. Few men of letters have been more personally known in their day, or more generally courted. A vein of agreeable conversation, sometimes amene, and more often caustic; a polished manner, a sense quickly alive to all that passes around; and, above all, perhaps, a taste in the arts, a knowledge of painting and of sculpture, — very rare in this country, have contributed to make the author of Italy scarce less distinguished in society than in letters."

Moore's diary is full of allusions to his social intercourse with Rogers and his friends. One day the fashionable poet was invited to dine in St. James' Place, to meet Barnes, the editor of the Times, in company with Lords Landsdowne and Holland, Luttrell and Tierney: and Moore, on Rogers' advising that he was well worth cultivating, broke off an engagement for the next Sunday with Miss White, and refused Lord Landsdowne, to accept an invitation from Barnes. Another day he would breakfast at Rogers' with Sydney Smith, Sharpe, Luttrell and Lord John; or amuse himself with reading the notes from Sheridan, or passages from the unpublished works of his friend.

On 10th April, 1823, he writes, "Dined at Rogers'. A distinguished party: S. Smith, Ward, Luttrell, Payne Knight, Lord Aberdeen, Abercrombie, Lord Clifden, &c. Smith particularly amusing. Have rather held out against him hitherto; but this day he conquered me; and I am now his victim, in the laughing way, for life. * * What Rogers says of Smith, very true, that whenever the conversation is getting dull he throws in some touch which makes it rebound, and rise again as light as ever. Ward's artificial efforts, which to me are always painful, made still more so by their contrast to Smith's natural and overflowing exuberance. Luttrell, too, considerably extinguished to-day; but there is this difference between Luttrell and Smith,—that after the former you remember what good things he said, and after the latter you merely remember how much you laughed. June 10th. - Breakfasted at Rogers', to meet Luttrell, Lady Davy, Miss Rogers and William Bankes. ** Rogers showed us Gray's Poems' in his original hand-writing, with a letter to the printer; also the original MS. of one of Sterne's sermons." Again, he dined with Rogers at the Athenæum, the first time the latter ever dined at a club. He dined with him at Roberts', in Paris,

6

tête-à-tête, at a splendid dinner "at fifteen francs a head, exclusive of wine. Poets did not feed so in the olden time." But the dinners in the poet's own modest but elegant mansion will be remembered as models of refined and intellectual hospitality, as long as the names live of the great men who have delighted to gather round his table.

We have alluded to Rogers' talent for epigram; a talent which he has very discreetly employed. His conversation seems to have been dry and sarcastic, though he is not to be held responsible for most of the bon-mots and repartees that have been attributed to him. It was at one time the habit of some of the London newspapers to manufacture these things, and ascribe them to Rogers. Of this manufacture, no doubt, is a mot that has found its way into a book so respectable as Mr. E. H. Barker's Literary Anecdotes. "Rogers, speaking to Wilberforce of the naked Achilles in the park, said it was strange that one who had made so many breaches in Troy should not have a single pair for himself." Moore records some of his observation, which are pithy and pertinent. On one occasion, speaking of the sort of conscription of persons of all kinds that was put in force for the dinner of the Hollands, Rogers said, "There are two parties before whom everybody must appear them and the police." Again, speaking of their friend Miss White, Rogers said, "How wonderfully she does hold out! They may say what they will, Miss White and Miss-olonghi are the most remarkable things going." In talking of the game-laws at a party at Holland House, Rogers said, "If a partridge, on arriving in this country, were to ask what are the game-laws, and somebody would tell him they are laws for the protection of game, 'What an excellent country to live in,' the partridge would say,' where there are so many laws for our protection!"" On somebody remarking that Payne Knight had got very deaf-" "T is from want of practice," said Rogers; Knight being a notoriously bad listener Rogers thus described Lord Holland's feeling for the arts: "Painting gives him no pleasure, and music absolute pain."

but

From the reports of his conversation, we are inclined to believe that it is entitled to a good deal of the praise which the Quarterly Review bestows upon the Notes to his poems. In referring to the venerable poet, the reviewer says, "This most elegant and correct of writers, with a taste matured by the constant study of the classics of our

tongue, has amused his leisure hours by trying into how small a compass wit, wisdom and elegance, may be packed. The notes to the last edition of his poems are not merely treasure-houses of anecdote and illustration, but admirable studies in composition for those who will be at the pains of ascertaining the precise language in which the same thoughts or incidents have been expressed in verse or related by others." Of an essay on assassination, written for insertion among the poems on Italy, Mackintosh wrote him that "Hume could not improve the thoughts, nor Addison the language." And Moore says, in his diary, that he feels it would do one good to study such writing, if not as a model, yet as a chastener and simplifier of style, it being the very reverse of ambition or ornament.

It is well said, by a writer in the Quarterly Review, that there are few precepts of taste which are not practised in Mr. Rogers' establishment, as well as recommended in his works. In illustration of the remark, he alludes to a novel and ingenious mode of lighting a dining-room, which might be well imitated wherever there are fine pictures. Lamps above or candles on the table there are none, but all the light is reflected by Titians, Reynolds', &c., from lamps projecting out of the frame of the pictures, and screened from the company. His house in St. James' Place is small, but overflowing with the choicest specimens of the fine arts, pictures, antique bronzes, sculptures and literary curiosities of uncounted value. The following description of this classic mansion is from the pen of an American traveller. Mr. Tuckerman has been speaking of St. James' Park and its various associations, which could not long withdraw the literary enthusiast from the bit of green-sward before the window of Rogers, which every spring morning, before the poet's health sent him into suburban exile, was covered with sparrows, expectant of their food from his kindly hand. "The view of the park," he adds, "from this drawing-room bow-window instantly disenchants the sight of all town associations. The room where this vista nature in her genuine English aspect opens, is the same so memorable for the breakfasts for many years enjoyed by the hospitable bard and his fortunate guests. An air of sadness pervaded the apartment, in the absence of him whose taste and urbanity were yet apparent in every object around. The wintry sun threw a gleam, mellow as the light of the fond reminiscence he so gracefully sung,

upon the Turkey carpet and veined mahogany. It fell, as if in pensive greeting, on the famous Titian, lit up the cool tints of Watteau, and made the bust found in the sea near Pozzoli wear a creamy hue. When the old housekeeper left the room, and I glanced from the priceless canvas or classic urn to the twinkling turf, all warmed by the casual sunshine, the sensation of comfort, never so completely realized as in a genuine London breakfast-room, was touched to finer issues by the atmosphere of beauty and the memory of genius. The groups of poets, artists and wits, whose commune had filled this room with the electric glow of intellectual life, with gems of art, glimpses of nature, and the charm of intelligent hospitality, to evoke all that was most gifted and cordial, reässembled once more. I could not but appreciate the suggestive character of every ornament. There was a Murillo, to inspire the Spanish traveller with half-forgotten anecdotes; a fine Reynolds, to whisper of the literary dinners where Garrick and Burke discussed the theatre and the senate; Mil ton's agreement for the sale of Paradise Lost,' emphatic symbol of the uncertainty of fame; a sketch of Stonehenge by Turner, provocative of endless discussion to artist and antiquary; bronzes, medals and choice volumes, whose very names would inspire an affluent talker, in this most charming imaginable nook for a morning colloquy and a social breakfast. I noticed, in a glass vase over the fireplace, numerous sprigs of orange-blossoms in every grade of decay, some crumbling to dust, and others but partially faded. These, it appeared, were all plucked from bridal wreaths, the gift of their fair wearers, on the wedding-day, to the good old poet-friend; and he, in his bachelor fantasy, thus preserved the withered trophies. They spoke at once of sentiment and of solitude."

The agreement for the sale of Paradise Lost, mentioned in the foregoing extract, was presented by Mr. Rogers to the British Museum, together with Dryden's agreement for his Fables, and one of Goldsmith with Dodsley.

The estimation in which the venerable poet was held, as a judge of art, may be inferred by the following extract from a letter addressed to him by Sir David Wilkie, under date of Constantinople, 30th December, 1840 :

"Without any claim for this invasion upon your valuable time, other than being in this distant capital in presence of so many objects