Ir is well for this biography of Francis Jeffrey that the late celebrated critic cannot possibly review it himself. It is seldom that the press in these days furnishes two respectable volumes which would afford better opportunity for the display of his peculiar dexterity-that acute and playful satire which could reveal the blemishes, and leave uninjured the substantial merits of the work. Only some such dexterous pen could do full justice to the biography which Lord Cockburn has written; for it displays manly sense and a mind well disciplined in severe and professional studies, and yet at the same time exhibits a want of literary taste and talent which is quite peculiar in these days of universal authorship, and which would have provoked from a critic like Jeffrey sallies of unrestrainable wit. In vain would the biographer have pleaded that the compulsion of friends had thrust this task into his hands; no compulsion of friends could have forced him into the ambitious style of writing he not unfrequently attempts. In vain would he have sought to disarm all criticism at once by an apology not ungracefully made:

แ

There is an age," says the preface, "after which it is seldom safe for one

who has never tried to write a book, to begin the attempt." It will avail nothing to unbonnet to the world and show this"thin helm" of ours; for the faults of the book savour of the rashness of youth, not of the weakness of age.

We are very far from saying that Lord Cockburn should not have written a book, but it is quite plain that he has not been fortunate in the subject on which he has made his experiment. If a didactic treatise on politics or jurisprudence had been assigned to him for his theme, we make no question but that he would have acquitted himself creditably; for wherever he has occasion to state opinions on such subjects, he writes with force and clearness. Unhappily the biographer has to narrate incidents, and describe traits of character; and in offices of this apparently lighter description his pen fails him; his style is quite unequal to what might seem to be the emergencies the least grave of the task he has undertaken. If he aims in his narrative at a colloquial style, he falls into expressions which can hardly pass current in any part of the island for idiomatic English. If he attempts, as he does far more frequently than

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the nature of his work required, to delineate the person and character of a man, he becomes one of the strangest of portrait-painters we can remember to have met with. It was not incumbent on Lord Cockburn to give us a gallery of portraits. The historian of a period may think this an essential part of his duty, and Clarendon and Hume, and, in our own day, Macaulay and Alison, have displayed to advantage their several styles of eloquence in these delineations. But the biographer has only one full-length figure that he is bound to portray: if he hangs other portraits on the wall, it must be because he is fond of this pictorial art. Lord Cockburn has certainly not justified the introduction of his series of portraits by the skill with which they are delineated.

It is certainly a curious circumstance that the biography of our fastidious critic should have fallen into the hands of one who, whatever his sterling qualities may be, however learned, or well practised in grave argumentation, is singularly deficient in literary talent, or in that varied and versatile style which his task demanded. He stumbles upon colloquialisms which are quite inadmissible, or presents us with the most bewildering descriptions, where he intends to be graphic or eloquent. "The defect of the whole composition," he says, speaking of Mr Cranstoun's wit," was a want of nature. To a very few of the kernels of his friendships, he was reported to be not incapable of relapsing into ease. But those less favoured, and his general acquaintance, were oppressed by his systematic ceremony. He shrunk so into himself, that those who did not understand the thing were apt to suppose him timid and indifferent to common distractions. But he was exactly the reverse." The same George Cranstoun, he tells us, " with rather a featureless countenance, had a pleasing and classical profile." Curious combination! Writing on graver matters, and speaking of the effect, especially in Edinburgh, of the first publication of the Review, he says, "All were the better of a journal to which every one with an object of due importance had access, which it was in vain either to bully or to

despise, and of the fame of which even its reasonable haters were inwardly proud."

But of these curious infelicities of diction we need not take the trouble to seek examples; they will come abundantly to hand without any search for them. Of the very singular specimens of portraiture or delineation of person and character which the book contains, we must, however, present an instance or two. We are not told how the contemporaries of Jeffrey who are here described exercised any influence upon him; neither is he ever brought before us in actual collision with any of them. For all that appears, any number of his contemporaries might have been selected for description, with as much reason as those which have been grouped together. We presume their chief recommendation lay in this, that they were thought to be good subjects for the artist. We shall see how he handles the pencil.

Yet, as Lord Cockburn takes credit to himself for resisting temptations which appeal to his artistic propensities, it is but fair that we should let him state in his own words the duty, as he conceives it, of the biographer.

"There were," he says, " at this time, the bar, of whom it is very tempting to several able men on the bench, and at try to give some account. But this would be improper in a narrative which aims at merely explaining Jeffrey; and therefore I mention those persons only who affected his life, and not those, however eminent or singular, with whom he had only a casual or professional connection. I adhere to the principle with regret, because some of these persons merit preservation on account of their eminence; and some, grown in the preceding century, were too picturesque to have their like seen again."

We can only say, that most of the persons Lord Cockburn does describe come before us nowhere else but in his formal description of them; they do not "explain Jeffrey; " nor can we, in some cases, find a better reason for their preservation than that which is here pronounced to be insufficient, namely, that they were grown in a preceding century," and, having exhausted, we presume, the richness of the soil, are not likely to reappear again.

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The Honourable Henry Erskine receives an elaborate panegyric. We can, of course, only give a portion of these sketches. Here is the commencement :

"A tall and rather slender figure, a face sparkling with vivacity, a clear sweet voice, and a general suffusion of elegance, gave him a striking and pleasing appearance. He was nearly the same in private as in public; the presence of only a few friends never diminishing his animation, nor that of the largest audience his naturalness. No boisterousness ever vulgarised, no effort ever encumbered, his aerial gaiety. Though imposing no restraint upon himself, but always yielding fresh to the radiant spirit within him, his humour was rendered delightful by its gentleness and safety. Too good natured for sarcasm, when he was compelled to expose, there was such an obvious absence of all desire to give pain, that the very person against whom his laughing darts were directed, generally thought the wounds compensated by the mirth and the humanity of the cuts."

This occurs early in the work; he puts forth his descriptive power with still greater force as he proceeds in his evidently not unpleasing task. Here is part of the sketch of the late Rev. Sir Harry Moncrieff:

:

"This eminent person was not merely distinguished among his brethren of the Church of Scotland, all of whom leant upon him, but was in other respects one of the most remarkable and admirable men of his age. Small grey eyes, an aquiline nose, vigorous lips, a noble head, and the air of a plain hereditary gentleman, marked the outward man. The prominent qualities of his mind were strong integrity and nervous sense. There never was a sounder understanding. Many men were more learned, many more cultivated, and some more able. But who could match him in sagacity and mental force? The opinions of Sir Harry Moncrieff might at any time have been adopted with perfect safety, without knowing more about them than they were his."

We never heard that the Church of Scotland laid claim to infallibility; but it seems there was one clergyman of that Church who might have done

"A thorough gentleman in his feelings, and immovably honest in his principles, his whole character was elevated into moral majesty. He was sometimes described as overbearing; and in one sense, to the amusement of his friends, he was so. Consulted by everybody, and, of course, provoked by many, and with very undisciplined followers to lead, his superiority gave him the usual confidence of an oracle; and this operating on a little natural dogmatism, made him sometimes seem positive, and often hard-an impression strengthened by his manner. With a peremptory conclusiveness, a shrill, defying voice, and a firm concentrated air, he appeared far more absolute than he really was, for he was ever candid and reasonable. But his real gentleness was often not seen; for if his first clear exposition did not convince, he was not unapt to take up a short disdainful refutation; which, however entertaining to the spectator, was not always comfortable to the adversary."

This last, we presume, conveys somewhat more explicitly what was intended by being overbearing, "to the amusement of his friends." Doubtless it is all correct: we did not know the Rev. Sir Harry; but as a picture of "moral majesty," we cannot think that the portrait is very successful. Lord Cockburn commends his pulpit eloquence; and adds, specifically, that "he was the noblest deliverer of prayers at striking funerals"!

"But though," he continues, "these professional exertions showed his powers, it was chiefly in the contests of men that his speaking was exerted, and was generally known. On such occasions, it was so utterly devoid of ornament, that, out of forty years' debate, it would be difficult to cull one sentence of rhetoric. And though very eloquent, he was never disturbed by the consciousness or ambition of being so a fearful man to grapple with."

So, it seems, Lord Cockburn has found. One more specimen from the gallery of portraits we must afford our readers the privilege of looking at. Shall it be that of Sir James Craig or George Cranstoun? or shall it be John Clerk, who seems to have been as much celebrated for his oddity as any other quality? The last is, perhaps, in every respect the most curious specimen.

"John Clerk, son of Clerk of Eldin, (a man whose science and originality, whether he first propounded the modern sys