M. Charles Malo's next division is Miscellaneous;' and here again, though he only copies or translates from English newspapers, he contrives to show that he understands English pretty much as Lady Morgan does French. Of a gross caricature of the order of the bomb' M. Charles Malo gives us an engraving; and yet, with this engraving before his eyes, which, God knows, seems intelligible enough, he so little comprehends the filthy equivoque on which it is founded, that he assures us it is only a quiz upon the insignificant part which the bomb-vessels played in the attack on Algiers; which M. Charles Malo represents as one of the most ridiculous, ineffective, and deceptive parades that was ever made. Then follow thirty-one pages of extracts from the daily papers, full of such important information as the following: 2d Sept. There was no exchange yesterday, being the anniversary of the fire of London. 30th Sept. A watch-maker, of Northampton, having been lately called to examine a clock which had stopped, found in it a mouse's nest which had interrupted the movements. • 28th Dec. The new pantomime of the Christmas Pie, produced last night, was successful: the plot is taken from an old nursery story. 16th Jan. The daughter of a celebrated physician has died lately of an inflammation of the bowels, caused by a plum-stone which she had swallowed. 30th Jan. The Duke of Marlborough died this morning, aged 84: his eldest son, the Marquis of Blandford, succeeds to his titles and estates. 7th April. To-day the Lord Mayor gives his usual dinner.' Such is the rare intelligence which M. Charles Malo preserves in his perennial pages from the too hasty fate which awaits it in the public journals. But he also adds a few remarks on the fine arts, which are just what our readers would expect. In the last exhibition of sculpture at the Royal Academy, there were only three pieces worth looking at, or at which any body looked, and they were all three by foreigners, two by Canova and one by M. Goblet, a Frenchman,'-p. 292. Mr. Chantry's group, it seems, attracted no attention. In painting, his taste is equally good. Sir Lawrence and Sir Beechy he thinks moderate (médiocres); but he assures us that Mr. Phillips is in England compared to Titian, on account of his extreme high finish. The only trace we can find in this whole volume, of the author's having been in England, we think it fair to give. He says, that having gone into the pit of the Circus, he regretted to find himself in such bad company, until he was astonished and pleased to hear the persons behind him addressing one another as gentlemen and ladies. He looked round for this good company, and was quite surprised to see two persons, of the lowest class, who were amusing themselves, in an interval of the entertainment, with a bottle of gin and a piece of cheese. In spite,' M. Malo adds, of the English apathy and phlegm, no, never did I laugh so heartily!'-p. 58. We do not exactly see why the English phlegm should have impeded the Frenchman's inclination to laugh; but we readily admit that the promiscuous use of the terms lady and gentleman is ridiculous enough: but has M. Charles Malo never heard a possarde and a fort de la Halle address one another as monsieur and madame? and does he not know that the lowest ranks of people in France bandy these titles from one to another with the most punctilious ceremony? thus this, which is the only fruit we see of M. Charles Malo's visit to England, is one which he might have found in still greater perfection in all the blind alleys of Paris. But our readers are tired of M. Charles Malo, and so are we. They have long since seen that he is a poor, catchpenny scribbler, who makes a book with the assistance of the last year's newspapers, a pair of scissars and a little paste. We have noticed his impudent niaiseries, for the same reason which induced us to chastise the malignity of General Pillet and Lady Morgan. We are anxious to cultivate a good understanding between France and England; they are (whenever the morals and politics of the revolution do not infect them) worthy of each other's esteem and respect; and it is the duty of the honnêtes gens of both countries to expose the prejudices, follies and falsehoods which a horde of ignorant scribblers and a nest of exasperated jacobins so industriously propagate in each country to the disparagement of the other. ART. XIII.-Anecdotes of the Life of Richard Watson, D. D. which has had no parallel in the compass of the English hierarchy. The eccentric and extravagant conduct of Bishop Watson, as a politician and as a prelate, the undisguised boldness of his conversation, and the incessant clamours of disappointment with which he deafened every company, after being advanced to the highest rank of his profession, have excited a very general and anxious curiosity for the appearance of the present work. Many self-biographers have sought the protection of the grave, to rescue their persons at least, whatever became of their memo. ries, from the consequences of publishing memoirs far more harmless than the present. In this instance Dr. Watson himself per. ceived the necessity of reserve; but the use which he has made of posthumous impunity is such as must fill every feeling mind with indignation at the man who, in the decline of life, and under the shade of retirement, has, by a moral chemistry of his own, been employed for more than twenty years in collecting and concentrating intellectual poison, leaving the stopple to be drawn, and the composition to be vended, by his executors. These are the fruits of an indolent and unlearned retreat from the duties of two important functions, the dignities and emoluments of which this prelate continued to enjoy till his death. In contemplating the history and character of this extraordinary man, we can only recollect one other bishop with whom, by the remotest approximation, he can be compared. This was Burnet; but even with him Bishop Watson afforded more points of contrast than of similitude. Both were indeed men of great natural abilities, great reformists, much given to obloquy, violent whigs, busy meddlers in politics, and of arrogant over-weening tempers.-Both too had been professors of divinity in their respective universities, and both were gifted with the talent of natural, copious, and overflowing eloquence. But here, unfortunately for the latter prelate, all resemblance ceases at once; for Burnet was profoundly learned in his own science of theology, while Watson was a mere smatterer. Burnet was conscientiously resident in his own diocess, and most diligent in the discharge of his episcopal functions-the late bishop of Landaff was, of all diocesans, the most remiss. Brunet was an indefatigable preacher-Watson seldom appeared in the pulpit but for the purposes of display. The former, with all his political prejudices, had a deep and awful sense of religion— in the latter, all the detachment and disengagement from the world, which ought to adorn and consecrate the declining age of a bishop, were lost in secularity and self-interest. Moreover, this violent declaimer against sinecures and non-residence was the first who converted the regius professorship of divinity into a sinecure : this enemy of pluralities held in his own person at least fourteen places of preferment; this man of moderation in his wishes, and calm contentment under the shade of retirement, spent the last twenty-nine years of his life in execrating those who, for his factious obstinacy, had left him to that retirement, while he was occupied in nursing up a fortune, till, according to his own boast, with the poorest bishopric in the kingdom, he became the richest bishop upon the bench. For these enormous inconsistencies, however, between conduct and profession, something is in justice due to his memory by way of explanation. He exercised the functions of Regius Professor in person for a period of sixteen years, and did not quit it till an inveterate disease, the fruit perhaps of his chemical operations, warned his physicians to prescribe relaxation and retirement in the country. Had he been possessed of any other see in the kingdom, that retirement might have been found at his proper post, and in his episcopal house; but the see to which he had been consecrated possessed not a house in which the bishop could shroud his head. The see of Landaff is, indeed, in this and another respect, the opprobrium of our episcopal establishment. Once an archbishopric, and one of the most wealthy sees in Christendom, like its sister St. David's, but more deeply, this decayed and dilapidated church 'plorat Curtatos mitræ titulos et nomen inane Semisepultæ urbis,' having long lost its metropolitan honours and been stripped of its castle and domains by Kitchin, its first Protestant bishop, whom his successor Godwyn, with no undue asperity, has recorded as 'fundi nostri calamitatem.' Still, however, had a bishop not disdained to take up his abode, after St. Paul's example, di mosuari, he might have found ἐν τῷ μισθωματι, on the salubrious coast of his own diocess, some elegant retreat, Some hireling senator's deserted seat,' which, in the person of Dr. Watson, would have • Given to St. David one true Briton more.' But a translation was then contemplated, and its diocesan, reckoning without his host, considered himself as a mere bird of passage, like his predecessors. But, while a shattered frame demanded relaxation, a growing family claimed a provision: with this impe- . rious call upon his mind, our original and independent prelate withdrew to his native country among the mountains of Westmoreland, where, bidding adieu to duty and to study, (for he brought no books, the proper companions of a scholar's retirement, along with him,) he betook himself to blasting rocks, planting trees, improving barren lands, and abusing the administration of his country. The last occupation of his tongue and of his pen, requiring no aid from the stores of antiquity, was pursued at Calgarth without impediment and without intermission. But as health was in this retirement his ostensible object, he might have reflected that a mind corroded by increasing bitterness and disappointment was not the happiest restorative of a broken constitution, and that while the column of sixty inches of rain, which annually falls on Winandermere, was pouring its periodical tribute on the domains of Calgarth, and the salutary pursuits of planting and agriculture were necessarily intermitted, the activity of a mind like that of our prelate, worn down in early life by attrition, would be in danger, during his later days, of frittering by rust.-Vacuity and irritation were its alternate shades. From taste he derived neither amusement nor occupation, for of taste he never had a tincture :-placed amidst the most delicious scenes of England, he thought of nothing but turning his own portion of them to emolument; and, from the society of the 'mild Arcadians' of his neighbourhood and their admirers, his vigorous and reasoning faculties could draw little of intelligence or entertainment. Meanwhile, as interest engaged one half of his attention, ambition continued to absorb the other; and to the last year perhaps of his life he pursued, though by means peculiar to himself, the great object of a translation, with all the assiduity of a supple candidate for promotion, who never places himself out of the minister's sight, and never omits the duty of a bow at the levee. Conscious of great talents, which, however, were greatly overrated by their possessor, he formed the scheme of bullying ministers into a translation, while it was his peculiar misfortune, in the prosecution of this hopeless project, to encounter a man equally haughty and impracticable with himself, and of talents far superior. But it is time to enter upon this unparalleled work, and to pursue the life of Richard Watson, bishop of Landaff, under his own direction. He was born in the month of August, in the year 1737, at Heversham, a delightful village in the Bottom of Westmoreland, the son of Watson, schoolmaster of that place, whom, in his epitaph, the bishop has rather coldly described as ludimagister haud inutilis. He was, indeed, of no use to his son, who was born after the father was sixty, and, by his resignation of the school, fell into far inferior hands. The northern schools, which teemed with boys destined to the University of Cambridge, were then at a very low ebb, and the entire inattention to versification, together with its certain accompaniment, ignorance of classical quantity, cannot but give us a very high idea of the vigour, comprehension, and industry of those young men who were afterwards able to surmount these disadvantages, and to meet on equal ground the highly polished sons of Eton and Westminster in their respective colleges. This was the trying situation of Watson; and the first symptom of that constitutional arrogance which impelled him to despise whatever he had not attained, breaks forth very conspicuously in the account which he gives of himself on this occasion : It has fallen to my lot not only to be obliged to write, but to speak Latin; and, having never been taught to make Latin or Greek verses, it cost me more pains to remember whether a syllable was long or short, than it would have done to comprehend a whole section of Newton's Principia. My mind, indeed, recoiled from such inquiries. What imports it, I used to say to myself, whether Cicero would have |