posing that the Iliad consisted originally, not only of detached but of unconnected rhapsodies, which acquired their present coherence and epic unity at a later period; but this will hardly apply to the admirable art and contrivance of the Odyssey, containing not the separate exploits of different heroes in succession, but the voyage and connected adventures of a single man. I am afraid, however, that the whole theory is derived from the supposed preservation of Ossian's Poems by mere tradition; as the ancients certainly never supposed that Homer's poems preceded the introduction of letters into Greece. Even as an early imitation of Homer, the Barpaxoμvoμàxia attests the ancient opinion, εν δελτοισιν εμοις ἐπι γουνασι θηκα, ν. 3. that writing was practised by the heroic poets, and it coincides remarkably with the Chian medal of Homer reading with a book upon his knees. The opposite argument, that there is no allusion to letters in Homer, except the much-disputed onμara Avypa, is undoubtedly strong. The same argument proves indisputably, that the saw, which is not enumerated among the instruments used by Ulysses in building his raft, was not known to the Greeks in the heroic ages; and that the cock, which is not mentioned either in Homer or in the Old Testament, but in the apocryphal book of Esdras, had not been domesticated or imported into Europe, or Asia Minor, till after the Babylonish captivity, when the jungle-fowl of the Indies were probably first introduced from the east. If letters, however, were confined as a secret to the priests, and rhapsodists who frequented the temples, Homer could hardly have described them in his rhapsodies by any allusions intelligible to an illiterate people. As he was blind, so he might have been ignorant himself of the art employed to perpetuate his poems. But my objection to Wolfius is this; that a recent theory, not confirmed by any historical facts, can hardly be admitted in opposition to the uniform opinion of the ancients, that the introduction of letters into Greece was prior to the era of Homer's poems, and that the art of writing, therefore, was employed for their preservation.

Hume's letters proceed upon the same objection to the preservation of Ossian, for fifty generations, by mere tradition. I have obtained permission to print the letters, and I am persuaded that you will be highly gratified with them. They will be added, in

a postscript, to my dissertation, together with a letter of Warburton's on the same subject. 1 remain with sincere respect, dear Sir, your most obedient servant, MALCOLM LAING.

Mr. Walter Landor had the advantage of Dr. Parr's personal acquaintance; and, being an inhabitant of Warwick, frequently saw him. On the Gebirus Dr. Parr has inscribed, "The work of a scholar and a poet." There are other annotations on learned works, published by Mr. Landor, and presented by him to Dr. Parr, which shew his estimation of Mr. Landor's talents and acquirements. The following letter is superscribed, "A most ingenious man."

Walter Landor, Esq. to Dr. Parr.

DEAR SIR,

I take a liberty, which I hesitated much and often ere I ventured on, to put into your hands and at your discretion a poem which I finished last summer.

However proud and presumptuous I may have shewn myself, I rather think that, during the time that I fancy you reading and examining my verses, I shall undergo much the same sensation as the unfortunate Polydorus, while his tomb, new turfed and spruce and flourishing, was plucked for a sacrifice to Eneas. Your obliged and respectful, W. LANDOR.

DEAR SIR,

Some people are going from Bath who will carry a few letters to my family, none of whom have more claims on my remembrance than you have. The printers at Oxford have published a poem of mine, and I desired they would send you a copy. But I find that none have been transmitted to my brother Henry, who would receive them first, and who would inclose two or three lines which I wrote on the occasion. The Antijacobin has assailed me with much virulence—I am a coward and a profligate.

On the latter expression, as I know not the meaning of it, I shall be silent. The former is a plain intelligible word, and if I discover the person who has made this application of it, I will give him some documents which shall enlighten his judgment at the expence of his skin. Could you imagine it? You also are mentioned with a proportionate share of insolence. Let them pass. Who would stop a cloud that overshadows his garden. The cloud is transitory, the garden blooms. Thank God, I have a mind more alive to kindness than to contumely. The statue of Memnon is insensible to the sands that blow against it, but answers in a tender tone to the first touches of the sun. Come, come, let me descend from these clouds and this romance, at which you will laugh most heartily, and quote in my favour the example of Mr. Samuel Gulliver, who, when the Lilliputians climbed and crept over him, forbore that contention which a more equal or a more formidable enemy would have aroused.

Thoughts alas! how much more serious, how much more painful and more lasting, have been excited by a late event. Poor Lambe-Poor Lambe, poor little Elizabeth, and her divine mother.* Yes, death has proved the fact, and not the contrary. For what is death? a change of situation, an enlargement of liberty, a privilege, a blessing, an apotheosis. What hours have I passed with this virtuous couple, hours never to return, or to produce their likeness in this world. In vain have I tried every species of amusement. Routs, plays, concerts, and balls. Her image rises up every where before me. I sicken at the sight of beauty. Did she not treat me as a brother? did she ever call me by more than one name? The sound of Walter was the sweetest of sounds. Pardon me, I will acknowledge it, she made me think my self a virtuous and great man. Certainly, I never left her company but I was more happy and more deserving of happiness. How perfect an example for every wife and mother. What purity, what affection! Is it profane, or is it too much to call such a woman an angel? The difference is, that she resided with us (shall I write it ?) long, that she was constantly and universally seen, marked, admired;-the other is sent down to very few, "at intervals, and long between." Farewell.

*The first Mrs. Lambe.

On the preceding is inscribed "This eloquent letter is from Walter Landor."

DEAR SIR,

I am rejoiced to find that you have not forgotten me, and I raise myself up from the bosom of indifference to the voice and the blandishments of praise. I never court the vulgar, and how immense a majority of every rank and description this happy word comprises-Perhaps about thirty in the universe may be excepted, and never more at a time, but I know how to value the commendation you bestow on me, for, though I have not deserved it, nor so largely, yet it will make me attempt to conquer my idleness, my disgusts, and to reach it some time or other. You will find that I have taken courage to follow the path you pointed out, in pursuing the execrable... I subjoin my letter. At present I have not sent it to the printer, though it has been finished a fortnight. The reason is this. I wrote one a thousand times better than the present, in which I aimed my whole force at a worse man than...; there are only two, and it was not W. and I sent it for insertion to the Courier. Now, such is my indifference, that, when once I have written a thing, I never inquire for it afterwards, and this was the case in respect to my letter. I have not seen the Courier since, but I have some suspicion that it was not inserted.

It is a sign that I have conversed with hardly a human being, not to know that your Sermon was published! As you intend to make me a present of one, pray do not keep it for me, but send it me directly. I wish for all enjoyment at once. I wish, while I improve my judgment and my taste, to indulge my sentiment and affections in contemplating the present of my friend. I have a little Catullus-I can repeat every word of it, yet again and again do I read my little Catullus. I never knew the author, and I should not have esteemed him if I had, unless as the most exquisite of poets. Do I not know the author of the Sermon ? do I not esteem him far infinitely more than for being the most elegant and energetic of our writers? I hope this noble work, for I can speak of as much as I have seen, will be effectual in making Englishmen write English. Our language is bruised, as VOL. VIII.

E

it were, and swollen by the Latin, but it is contaminated, enervated, and distorted by the French! If we are to borrow, let us borrow from the principal and not from the underlings, but with a little good management I think we are quite rich enough. I find I shall not have room (if I continue) for the politics. I begin the last letter as follows; I will send you the other when I find it :

"Men are apt to compare the situations one of another; and to indulge, while they would justify their discontent. All who are indignant at neglect, and all who are resentful at injustice, will hasten to examine those claims which approach, yet happen not to clash with their own. And if these should be of the great, of the valiant, or of the wise, the illusions of vanity grow brighter and brighter, and the charms of sympathy grow stronger and stronger, at the mere repetition of their names."

Thus, the Abbé de Lille ran away from his property-the Abbé de Lille wrote some Georgics-and the Abbé de Lille talks of Virgil.

Did Mr. Pitt expect, or did he not, the royal assent to his transaction with the Irish? I hardly know in which instance of the two his crime would be the greater. If he did not, how gross the deception, how deep and unpardonable the insult, how cruel and killing a mockery! W. S. LANDOR.

MY DEAR SIR,*

Florence, Feb. 5, 1825.

It has appeared, and might well do so, an extraordinary thing, that I should have omitted your name in my "Conversations." You will perceive at the close of this paper, that, if I did not venture to deliver your opinions, at least I had not forgotten the man by whom mine could have been best corrected.

Had I completed my undertaking I should have prefixed to the last volume a dedication to my venerable friend, Dr. Samuel Parr, and it would have been with more propriety inscribed to him than any of the former, as containing less of levity and of passion, and greatly more, if I had done justice to the interlocutors of argument and of eloquence. My first exercises in

* Dr. Parr was on his bed of death when this letter arrived.