of Europe," in two volumes, display great research; and his popular "History of British India," proves his acquaintance with the literature and records of Asia.

His "Natural History of Society," perhaps his greatest effort, is a philosophical work of very considerable merit.

His biographical sketches were lively and instructive ;-that charming work, the "Romantic Biography of the Age of Elizabeth," and his very last production, the "History of the House of Orleans," which is replete with information respecting the fortunes of that ambitious, dissolute, and unfortunate family, and sparkles with anecdotes of the wit and fashion of France,-attest the versatility of his talent, and his power in delineating character.

The year 1842 witnessed a great crisis in the manufacturing districts of this country. The whole nation became alarmed; and ruin and insolvency seemed to be impending. Dr. Taylor proceeded to Lancashire, then threatened with insurrection, and published the "Notes of his Tour," in a series of letters addressed to his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin, which rapidly passed through successive editions, and riveted public attention by the boldness of their revelations and the earnestness of the author's appeal for the emancipation of British industry. He vindicated in a masterly manner the Factory System, and the science of Political Economy, and dealt heavy blows upon the figment of Protection. This little book was reviewed five times successively by the leading metropolitan journal, and materially assisted in throwing open the door of Free Trade. He followed up the subject in a work entitled "Factories and the Factory System."

His life had hitherto been one of retirement devoted to literature,― his political feelings being expressed in contributions to newspapers and reviews of liberal principles; he now began to take a more prominent part in the great struggle for the repeal of the Corn Laws. His views on this question were not hastily taken up ;-they were the settled convictions of his mind, carefully considered and long entertained. He became the Editor of The League on its establishment in London, and continued at his post in close intimacy with Mr. Cobden, Mr. Villiers, Mr. Bright, and the other leaders of the movement, till the cause was crowned with victory. The importance of his services was publicly acknowledged by the Council of the League in a vote of thanks. Everything that affected the interests of the industrial classes, in whose welfare he took a conscientious concern, was attractive to him. Among his miscellaneous works was a "History of the Silk and Cotton Manufactures ;" and he was not unfrequently a contributor to the "Art Union."

The Hon. P. C. Villiers, M.P. for Wolverhampton, with whom the Anti-Corn Law Agitation brought him into connection, became his warm friend; and by Mr. Villiers he was introduced to his brother, his Excellency the Earl of Clarendon, the present wise and vigorous Viceroy of Ireland, by whom he was employed in Dublin during the last two years, as a writer on statistical points,—an occupation for which he was eminently fitted.

His last work, as we have already intimated, was his "History of the Orleans Family," recently noticed in these pages, of which we have spoken above. Its preface is dated Dublin, July the 18th. With this closes our review of his long and toilsome career of literary labour! In the early part of September the cholera committed

great havoc in the Irish capital, as well as in London; and Dr. Taylor, before his mortal attack, had premonitory symptoms, to which he seems not to have paid due attention. He had been ailing four or five days, but on the Sunday before his death was so much better that he spoke of going to the country with a friend for a few days: on the Monday he grew worse; on the Tuesday decidedly worse, though without pain; and on Wednesday morning, the 12th of September, without a struggle, his spirit "shuffled off its mortal coil," leaving behind him a name endeared to a wide circle of personal and political friends in England, Scotland, and Ireland, as well as to his brethren fellow-labourers in the republic of letters.-" A true hearted and yet most wise and far-seeing patriot!-a man of taste and judgment, of knowledge beyond all others-and of a kindly and affectionate nature!" Such is the estimate of his character by a lady who occupies a distinguished position in British literature, and knew him well.

Before the death of his first-born son, two or three years back, had cast a sadness upon his spirits, Dr. Taylor was noted in private life for his exuberant mirth, irrepressible humour and quaint drollery; in truth

"He had a pleasant wit,

And loved a timely joke;"

and among his minor literary performances is to be placed an edition of "Joe Miller." He had a strong attachment to his native town, on the extensive sands of which-sweeping without interruption from one point of the bay to the other-it was his delight to roam :

Neptunum procul e terra spectare furentem!

He was a man of great generosity and humanity: at all times anxious to relieve those distressed "in mind, body, or estate," and ready to further those in whom he discerned merit allied with unblemished honour. He took a warm interest in the Royal Literary Fund, and rarely was absent from the anniversaries of the society. He was often negligent in his dress, and careless of external appearances; and he was sometimes blunt and unceremonious in his manner, but like Joseph "speaking roughly to his brethren," his heart was at the same time, brim full of faithfulness and good will. Although a Whig, his society was courted by Orangemen, Conservatives, Free Traders, and Radicals, a proof in itself of the possession of rare qualifications; and by all who knew him, his loss is lamented as one to society, to letters, and to his country. Such was William Cooke Taylor!

His life was spent moiling at literary labour; and at the moment when he was placed in a position where he had a reasonable prospect of reaping some of the rewards as well as the honours of his toil and steady attachment to his political principles, he was cut off, leaving, we fear, his widow and young family with little more as an inheritance, than his well-earned reputation. The activity of his mind. played upon his bodily energies, and doubtless predisposed him to attack, the sword wore through its scabbard!

"Peace to the manly soul that sleepeth!

Rest to the faithful eye that weepeth!"

MEMOIRS OF CHATEAUBRIAND.

WRITTEN BY HIMSelf.

"THE next day we made preparations for our departure, and accordingly at noon we went to examine some horses which the people of the Creeks wished to sell, and the traders were desirous of purchasing. Women and children, everybody, in short, were assembled to witness the proceedings-this is the custom whenever any bargain is to be made. Horses of all sizes, colours, and ages, bulls, cows, and heifers, soon began to gallop and fly before us; in the midst of this confusion I was separated from the Creeks, and did not at first notice a group of men and horses collected at an opening in the wood; but suddenly I perceived in the distance my two Creoles, who were being seated by some rude hands upon the cruppers of two barbs which were mounted without saddle or cloth, almost immediately afterwards, by a Seminola and a Bois-Brule. Oh, Cid! thought I,' why have I not thy swift Babieca that I might be able to pursue them; but, they disappeared like the daughter of Ceres when she was carried off by the god of hell. We passed again over the blue mountains, and came at length upon some European ground near Chillicotti. Though I had lived in a world of poetry, I had failed in obtaining any information upon the subject which had principally induced me to undertake this journey, but

Comme une jeune abeille aux roses engagée

Ma muse revenait de son butin chargée."

"On the border of a stream I perceived an American house, one portion of which seemed to be used as a farm, and the other as a mill. I went to the entrance and asked for shelter and refreshment, and was heartily welcomed. My hostess led me up a ladder into a room which was situated above the water-mill; my little casement looked out upon the stream which flowed narrowly and silently along between two thick rows of willows, sassafras, tamarind, and poplar trees. The moss-covered wheel moved round beneath their shade, casting forth at each turn long ribbons of water; perches and trouts leaped in the foam of the eddy; wag-tails flew from one bank to another, and swallows, of a peculiar kind, flapped their blue wings above the current. When night set in I went down into a room of the farm, it was lighted only by the chaff of maize and the shells of beans which blazed upon the hearth. I seated myself on a stool in the chimney corner near a squirrel, which was jumping alternately from the back of a large dog to the top of a spinning-wheel-a little kitten sprang upon my knee to watch the sport. The miller's wife surmounted the brasier with a porridge-pot, round which the flame played like a radiated crown of gold, while the kidney potatoes, which were intended for my supper, boiled away under my care, I amused myself by reading by the light of the fire an English newspaper, which had accidentally fallen into my hands. I at once noticed the following words printed in large letters-Flight of the King: there was the whole account of the escape of Louis XVI., and the arrest of that unfortunate monarch at Varennes. It described also the progress of emigration and the reunion

of the officers of the army under the standard of the French princes. A sudden change seemed to come over my mind. Rinaldo became aware of his weakness when he beheld himself in the mirror of honour in the gardens of Armida, but without being the hero of Tasso, I saw myself reflected in the same glass in the middle of an American orchard. I resolved somewhat hastily to terminate my wanderings, and to return to France. This sudden resolution, which appeared to me to be a duty, overthrew all my plans, and was occasioned by one of those freaks of fortune which so frequently marked my career. The Bourbons did not in the least require that I, the youngest son of a Bretagne family, should cross the sea to offer them my feeble services; if I had lighted my pipe with the newspaper which served so materially to influence my life and pursued my journey, nobody would have been aware of my absence; my proceedings were quite as little noted, and as of little consequence, as the smoke which issued from my calumet. A simple struggle with my conscience was sufficient to cast me again upon the world's stage. When I reached Philadelphia, after quitting the desert, I found that the bills of exchange which I expected had not arrived; this was the beginning of the pecuniary embarrassments by which I was more or less harassed during the rest of my life. Fortune and I had quarrelled with each other ever since we had first met.

"The Captain gave me my passage on trust, and on the tenth of December, 1791, I embarked, with several of my fellow-countrymen, who, for divers reasons, were returning, like myself, to France. Havre was the destination of our vessel, and on the second of January, 1792, we entered that sea-port, and I trod again upon my native soil. I did not bring over Esquimaux with me from America, but two savages of a tribe very little known, whom I called Chactas and Atala. "I wrote immediately to my brother, who was in Paris, giving him the full particulars of my voyage home, explaining to him the motive which had induced me to return, and begging him to be good enough to lend me the necessary sum for paying my passage. My brother told me, in answer, that he had forwarded my letter to my mother. Madame de Chateaubriand did not keep me long in suspense, but at once gave me the means of discharging my debt, and of quitting Havre. She mentioned that Lucile was with her, as well as my uncle, De Bedée, and his family; in consequence of this information, I decided at once upon going to Saint Mâlo, for I felt that I should then be able to consult my uncle about my next emigration. I was most warmly welcomed by my mother and family, who could not help regretting, however, that I had arrived so inopportunely. My uncle, the Comte de Bedée, was preparing to go to Jersey with his wife, his son and his daughters. The question was how I should obtain money in order to be able to join the princes; my voyage to America had made a considerable hole in my fortune. The property which I inherited as a younger son, was reduced to a mere nothing, in consequence of the extinction of feudal rights. The sinecures which devolved to me in virtue of my being admitted to the order of the Knights of Malta, had been seized, like the rest of the church property, by the Nation. This chain of circumstances was the occasion of my taking one of the most important steps in my life. It was arranged that I should marry, in order that I might have the means of fighting and getting killed in a cause to which I did not feel the slightest attachment. M. de Lavigne Chevalier de Saint Louis lived, in a very retired manner, at Saint

Malo. The Comte d'Artois, when he last visited Bretagne, had availed himself of M. Lavigne's hospitality, and taken up his abode at his house in Saint Mâlo. The prince was so much pleased with his host, that he promised to grant him anything for which he might afterwards choose to ask. M. de Lavigne had two sons; one of them had married a Mlle. de la Placelière. Two daughters were the issue of this marriage, and when they were very young they lost both their father and mother. The eldest was the wife of Comte du Plessis-Parscau, captain of a vessel, the son and grandson of an admiral, and who became at length a rear-admiral himself. The youngest, who continued to reside with her grandfather, was, on my return from America, about seventeen. She was delicately fair, slight, and extremely pretty; she allowed her beautiful hair to stray unconfined over her shoulders. Her fortune was said to be about five or six hundred thousand francs.

Now, my sisters had resolved among themselves that I should marry Mlle. de Lavigne, who was exceedingly fond of Lucile. The whole affair, however, was carried on without my having the slightest knowledge of it. I had scarcely seen Mlle. de Lavigne more than three or four times. I recognised her sometimes upon the Sillon, by her pink pelisse, her white dress, and her light hair, which floated in the wind; for I still wandered upon the shore, and gave myself up to raptures again for my old mistress, the sea. I did not feel myself fitted to become a husband. None of my bright illusions were yet dispelled; life was invested with all sorts of charms in my eyes, and my wanderings in America had only served to increase my love of adventure. My muse was my only object of adoration. Lucile was very much attached to Mlle. de Lavigne, and she saw in my marriage with her that independence of fortune would be secured to me. Do what you like with me,' said I. My character, as a public man, I knew could never be altered; but my private character I felt would be materially influenced by the person with whom I was connected; but, in order to avoid an hour's annoyance, I submitted to become a slave for the rest of my life. The grandfather's consent, as well as that of the paternal uncle, and the nearest relations, was easily obtained; but there was a maternal uncle, a M. de Vauvert, a great democrat, who would not listen to his niece marrying an aristocrat like me; though, in fact, I was anything but an aristocrat. We thought we should be able to get over this difficulty, but my pious mother insisted that the religious part of the marriage ceremony should be performed by a priest non assermenté: therefore, it could only take place privately.

"M. de Vauvert, who was quite aware of this circumstance, brought an action against us under pretence that we had violated the law, and had taken advantage of the childish state into which the grandfather, M. de Lavigne, had fallen. Mademoiselle de Lavigne, who had become Madame de Chateaubriand, though I had scarcely been at all in her society, was carried off in the name of justice, and placed in the Convent de la Victoire, while the law-suit was going forward. The cause was tried, and the jury decided that the civil contract was perfectly valid. M. Vauvert resolved no longer to pursue the affair, and the curé constitutionel, on receiving a large fee, did not offer any further objections to the former nuptial benediction, so that Madame de Chateaubriand was permitted to leave the convent with Lucile, who had shared her temporary confinement.