After a life of labour and vexation, and, in his latter days, of sickness and poverty, De Foe died the 24th of April, 1731, when about seventy years of age.

Enough can be gathered from the admissions of his enemies, independent of his own consistent writings, to establish the uncommon honesty and conscientiousness of De Foe. Had he been more compromising, his readiness and versatility of talent would have found abundant reward in those days of strife, when a skilful controversialist was a potent auxiliary. Not less conspicuous were his active perseverance and undaunted courage. During a period of thirty years, his pen never tired in the cause of liberty, though menaced by penalty, prison and poverty.

As a historian, poet, and novelist, enough has been said of him. As a moral and political writer, he was peculiarly one of the people, and wrote for the people; without that depth of thought that would make his volumes indispensable to the student, or that finish of style that would win them a place in the boudoir of the belles lettres scholar. He was educated among dissenters, removed from the elegance and finish of the universities; he had lived among the citizenry, without mingling with the polished coteries of the nobility; he had not been intimately imbued with the literature of Greece and Rome, or become familiar with the forms of Athenian sculptors and the colouring of Italian painters. Hence every thing in his moral and political writings is plain, practical and popular, drawn from the unaided workings of his own intellect. He never even alludes to the magic creations of Shakspeare or the harmonious verse of Milton.

The style of these productions exhibits, at the same time, the elearness and facility often acquired by those who compose much, and the faulty locutions that become habitual with those who compose hastily. Here and there, to be sure, sentences critically elegant may be found, but no one page, without some ill-chosen word or awkwardly turned phrase. Still there is a constant perspicuity, simplicity, freeness from affectation and even natural melody, that always renders De Foe, if not a very correct, yet a pleasant writer.

No less than two hundred and ten different works of De Foe, are enumerated, and, as he often wrote anonymously, many have no doubt perished. While so much ephemeral matter is daily issuing from the press, we would gladly see a reprint, in a plain form, of a selection of his best writings.

Mr. Wilson, the biographer, is a staunch dissenter, and a good part of his work is taken up in battling the religious questions of the times. As far as industry goes, he has honestly done his VOL. VII.-No. 13.

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duty, and he richly deserves the thanks of the community for vindicating the fame of a virtuous man so long and so foully aspersed. But, really, three fat octavos is too much of a good thing. Not a work of De Foe's that has escaped destruction, but we are here furnished with extracts, illustrated with comments and reflections. Had the illustrious author of Robinson published an advertisement for a strayed dog, we verily believe we should have been regaled with a morceau.

When the French protestants fled into Holland, residing in a strange land, apart from the refined society of their country, they lost the conversational ease and elegance of their own language, and fell in to a stiff metallic style called the style refugiè (refugee style.) Something of the same kind may be observed, generally, of the dissenters. Living in a kind of exile from the more refined and accomplished portion of the community, they, in spite of their talent and learning, have a hardness and stiffness in their march very distinguishable from the ease and grace of the university-bred sons of the established church. We may well apply this to our biographer. He writes clear, substantial English; but taste and facility are entirely wanting.

As De Foe's "History of the Union of England and Scotland" is not common in this country, we will finish with an extract, which may serve as a specimen of his historic style. After describing the great opposition excited against the union, while that measure was under discussion, and the state of things in Edinburgh, especially, the author thus proceeds:

"I am sorry that in the process of this story, especially in this, which I count the foullest and blackest part of it that could have been acted, I shall be obliged to mention some persons of great honour and ancient families, who were pleased, for reasons of their own, to act against the union, and to appear so openly in the opposition of it, that the people, I do not say by their own approbation, I hope not, singled them out as the patriots of their country against this transaction; and by their shouts and huzzas after them, as they went to and from the parliament, made them, as it were, the heads of the party who opposed the union.

"The Dukes of Hamilton and Athol were the chief of these, and were almost every day in parliament, strenuously arguing against the articles and pressing for other measures, as by their observations will appear.

"The Duke of Hamilton being indisposed by some lameness, I cannot describe the occasion, was generally carried to and from the house in his chair.

"The common people now screwed up to a pitch, and ripe for the mischief designed, and prompted by the particular agents of a wicked party, began to be very insolent. It had been whispered about several days, that the rabble would rise, and come to the parliament-house and cry out, No union! that they would take away the honours, as they call

them, viz. the crown, &c. and carry them to the castle, and a long variety of foolish reports of this kind.

"But the first appearance of any thing mobbish was, that every day, when the Duke went up, but principally as he came down in his chair from the house, the mob followed him, shouting and crying out, God bless his grace for standing up against the union, and appearing for his country,' and the like.

"And as extremes are generally accompanied with their contraries; so, while his grace the Duke of Hamilton had these fancied honours paid him, the queen's representative, the high commissioner, had all the insults, reproaches and indignities offered him that they durst, for fear of public justice, shown him; as will by and by appear.

"Far be it from me to say, the Duke of Hamilton desired or encouraged this tumultuary kind of congratulation; that sort of popularity must be too much below a person of his character; and his grace knows the world too well, and is too wise a man not to know, that such things always tend to confusion and to the destruction of civil peace in the world.

"Nor do I doubt but his grace did what he could to prevent their singling him out, to show their mob-courtesy to; but there was no crushing a rabble that had so many wheels to set it in motion; and the seeming causes of which increased every day, as the union began to draw forward; and, as the members appeared resolved to go forward with it seriously, in order to a conclusion.

"On the 22d of October, they followed the Duke's chair quite through the city, down to the abbey gate; the guards prevented their going further; but all the way as they came back, they were heard to threaten what they would do the next day; that then they would be a thousand times as many; that they would pull the traitors, so they called the treaters of the union at London, out of their houses, and that they would soon put an end to the union.

"On the 23d, they made part of their words good indeed; for as the parliament sat something late, the people gathered in the streets, and about the doors of the parliament-house, and particularly the parliament close was almost full, that the members could not go in or out without difficulty; when Duke Hamilton coming out of the house, the mob huzzaed as formerly and followed his chair in a very great number. The Duke, instead of going down to the Abbey, as usual, went up the High-street, to the land-market, as they call it, and so to the lodgings of the Duke of Athol. Some said he went to avoid the mob; others maliciously said, he went to point them to their work.

"While he went into the Duke of Athol's lodgings, the rabble attended at the door; and by shouting and noise, having increased their numbers to several thousands, they begun with Sir Patrick Johnston, who was one of the treaters, and the year before had been Lord Provost; first they assaulted his lodgings with stones and sticks, and curses not a few; but his windows being too high, they came up stairs to his door, and fell to work at it with sledges or great hammers; and had they broke it open in their first fury, he had, without doubt, been torn in pieces without mercy; and this only because he was a treater in the

commission to England; for, before that, no man was so well beloved as he, over the whole city.

"His lady, in the utmost despair with this fright, came to the window, with two candles in her hands, that she might be known; and cried out, for God's sake to call the guards: an honest apothecary in the town, who knew her voice, and saw the distress she was in, and to whom the family, under God, is obliged for their deliverance, ran immediately down to the town guard; but they would not stir without the Lord Provost's order; but that being soon obtained, one captain Richardson, who commanded, taking about thirty men with him, marched bravely up to them; and making his way with great resolution through the crowd, they flying, but throwing stones, and hallooing at him and his men, he seized the foot of the stair-case; and then boldly went up, cleared the stair, and took six of the rabble in the very act; and so delivered the gentleman and his family.

"But this did not put a stop to the general tumult, though it delivered this particular family; for the rabble, by this time, were prodigiously increased, and went roving up and down the town, breaking the windows of the members of parliament, and insulting them in their coaches, in the streets; they put out all the lights that they might not be discovered; and the author of this had one great stone thrown at him, but for looking out of a window; for they suffered no body to look out, especially with any lights, lest they should know faces, and inform against them afterwards.

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By this time, it was about eight or nine o'clock at night, and now they were absolute masters of the city; and it was reported, they were going to shut up all the ports; the Lord Commissioner being informed of that, sent a party of the foot guards, and took possession of the Netherbow, which is a gate in the middle of the high street, as Templebar between the city of London and the Court.

"The city was now in a terrible fright; and every body was under concern for their friends; the rabble went raving about the streets till midnight, frequently beating drums, and raising more people: when my Lord Commissioner being informed there were a thousand of the seamen and rabble come up from Leith; and apprehending, if it were suffered to go on, it might come to a dangerous head, and be out of his power to suppress, he sent for the Lord Provost, and demanded that the guards should march into the city.

"The Lord Provost, after some difficulty, yielded; though it was alleged, that it was what never was known in Edinburgh before. About one o'clock in the morning, a battalion of the guards entered the town, marched up to the parliament close, and took post in all the avenues of the city, which prevented the resolutions taken to insult the houses of the rest of the treaters.

"The rabble were entirely reduced by this, and gradually dispersed, and so the tumult ended.*

His description of the behaviour of the Edinburgh mob respecting some pirates, reminded us strongly of the Porteus De Foe's Hist. Union of Eng, and Scot. p. 236, 4to. edit. of 1786.

affair, so graphically described in the "Heart of Mid-Lothian." We will only cite the conclusion.

"On the day appointed for execution, the privy council was set, and the magistrates of Edinburgh were called to assist; where the point was debated, whether the condemned persons should be executed or no? I will not say the rabble influenced the council in their determinations that way; but this is certain, that the discontent of the common people was very well known; and that they were furiously bent upon some violent methods, was very much feared; that a vast concourse of people was gathered at that instant in the parliament close, at the cross, at the prison, and throughout the whole city; that they publickly threatened the magistrates, and even the council itself, in case they were not brought out on that day; and some talked of pulling down the Tolbooth, which, if they had attempted, they would have sacrificed them in a way more like that of De Witt, than an execution of justice.

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However, it was the council determined the matter, that three of them, viz: the captain, Thomas Green, John Mather, and James Simpson, who were thought to be principals in the murder, should be put to death that day.

"When the magistrates of Edinburgh came out, they assured the people, that they were ordered to be executed, and that if they would have a little patience, they would see them brought out, and this pacified them for the prssent.

"Soon after the council breaking up, my Lord Chancellor came out, and driving down the street in his coach, as he passed by the cross, somebody said aloud, "The magistrates had but cheated them, and that the council had reprieved the criminals:"-This running like wildfire, was spread in a moment among the people; immediately they ran in a fury down the street, after the chancellor, stopped his coach just at the Trone-church, broke the glasses, abused his servants, and forced him out of the coach; some friends that were concerned for the hazard he was in, got him into a house, so that he had no personal hurt. It was in vain for his lordship to protest to them, that the men were ordered to be executed; they were then past hearing of any thing, the whole town was in an uproar, and not only the mob of the city, but even from all the adjacent country, was come together. Nothing but the blood of the prisoners could appease them; and had not the execution followed immediately, it cannot be expressed what mischief might have happened.

"At last the prisoners were brought out, and led through the streets down to Leith, the place of execution being by the laws appointed there for crimes committed upon the sea. The fury and rage of the people was such, that it is not to be expressed; and hardly did they suffer them to pass, or keep their hands off them as they went, but threw a thousand insults, taunts and revilings. They were at last brought to the gibbet, erected at the sea-mark, and there hanged.

"Nor can I forget to note, that no sooner was the sacrifice made, and the men dead, but even the same rabble, so fickle is the multitude, exclaimed at their own madness, and openly regretted what they had done, and were ready to tear one another to pieces for the excess.

*Ibid. p. 81.