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age. If this portrait was done during Addison's life, it must have been represented as older than she really was ; she could not be much more than two, and here she appears at least five years of age. It is a full-length. The child stands by a table, on which is a basket of flowers, and she holds a pink flower in her hand against her bosom. She has the air of an intelligent child, and, as usuai, wears one of Kneller's light-blue draperies, with a lace-bordered apron, and stomacher of the same.

Such are the paintings at Bilton. They include a most interesting group of the friends and contemporaries of Addison, besides others. It is a rare circumstance that they have been permitted to remain there, when his library and his medals have been dispersed. Altogether Bilton is one of the most satisfactory specimens of the homes and haunts of our departed literary men.

Of Holland-house, the last residence of Addison, it would require a long article to give a fitting idea. This fine old mansion is full of historic associations. It takes its name from Henry Rich, Earl of Holland, whose portrait is in Bilton. It was built by his father-inbaw, Sir Walter Cope, in 1607, and affords a very good specimen of the architecture of that period. The general form is that of a half H. The projection in the centre, forming at once porch and tower, and the two wings supported on pillars, give great decision of effect to it. The stone quoins worked with a sort of arabesque figure, remind one of the style of some portions of Heidelberg Castle, which is what is called on the Continent roccoco. Here it is deemed Elizabethan; but the plain buildings attached on each side to the main body of the house, with their shingled and steep-roofed towers, have a very picturesque and Bohemian look. Altogether it is a charming old pile, and the interior corresponds beautifully with the exterior. There is a fine entrance hall, a library behind it, and another library extending the whole length of one of the wings and the house upstairs, one hundred and five feet in length. The drawingroom over the entrance hall, called the Gilt-room, extends from front to back of the house, and commands views of the gardens both ways; those to the back are very beautiful.

In the house are, of course, many interesting and valuable works of art ; a great portion of them memorials of the distinguished men who have been accustomed to resort thither. In one room is a portrait of Charles James Fox, as a child, in a light-blue dress, and with a close, reddish woollen cap on his head, under which show lace edges. The artist is unknown, but is supposed to be French. The countenance is full of life and intelligence, and the “child" in it is, most remarkably," the father of the man.” The likeness is wonderful. You can imagine how, by time and circumstance, that child's countenance expanded into what it became in maturity. There is also a portrait of Addison, which belonged to his daughter. It represents him as much younger than any other that I have seen. In the Gilt-room are marble busts of George IV. and William IV. On the staircase is a bust of Lord Holland, father of the second earl and of Charles Fox, by Nollekens. This bust, which is massy, and full of power and expression, is said to have brought Nollekens into his great repute. The likeness to that of Charles Fox is very striking. By the same artist there are also the busts of Charles Fox, the late Lord Holland, and the present earl. That of Frere, by Chantrey, is very spirited. There are also, here, portraits of Lord Lansdowne, Lord John Russell, and family portraits. There is also a large and very curious painting of a fair, by Callot, and an Italian print of it.

In the library, down stairs, are portraits of Charles James Foxa very fine one; of the late Lord Holland ; of Talleyrand, by Ary Scheffer, perhaps the best in existence, and the only one which he said that he ever sat for; of Sir Samuel Romilly ; Sir James Mackintosh ; Lord Erskine, by Sir Thomas Lawrence ; Tierney ; Francis Horner, by Raeburn, so like Sir Walter Scott by the same artist, that I at first supposed it to be him; Lord Macartney, by Phillips; Frere, by Shee; Mone, Lord Thanet; Archibald Hamilton; late Lord Darnley ; late Lord King, when young, by Hoppner; and a very sweet foreign fancy portrait of the present Lady Holland. We miss, however, from this haunt of genius, the portraits of Byron, Brougham, Crabbe, Blanco White, Hallam, Rogers, Lord Jeffrey, and others. In the left wing is placed the colossal model of the statue of Charles Fox, which stands in Bloomsbury-square.

In the gardens are various memorials of distinguished men. Amongst several very fine cedars, perhaps the finest is said to have been planted by Charles Fox. In the quaint old garden is an alcove, in which are the following lines, placed there by the late earl —

“Here Rogers sat-and here for ever dwell

With me, those pleasures which he sang so well." Beneath these are framed and glazed a copy of verses in honour of the same poet, by Mr. Luttrell. There is also in the same garden, and opposite this alcove, a bronze bust of Napoleon, on a granite pillar, with a Greek inscription from the Odyssey, admirably applying the situation of Ulysses to that of Napoleon at St. Helena--" In a far-distant isle he remains under the harsh surveillance of base men."

The fine avenue leading down from the house to the Kensingtonroad, is remarkable for having often been the walking and talkingplace of Cromwell and General Lambert. Lambert then occupied Holland-house; and Cromwell, who lived at the next house, when he came to converse with him on state affairs, had to speak very loud to him, because he was deaf. To avoid being overheard, they used to walk in this avenue.

The traditions regarding Addison here are very slight. They are, simply, that he used to walk, when composing his Spectators, in the long library, then a picture-gallery, with a bottle of wine at each end, which he visited as he alternately arrived at them; and that the room in which he died, though not positively known, is supposed to be the present dining-room, being then the state bed-room. The young Earl of Warwick, to whom he there addressed the emphatic words—“See in what peace a Christian can die !” died also, himself, in 1721, but two years afterwards. The estate then devolved to Lord Kensington, descended from Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, who sold it, about 1762, to the Right Honourable Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland. Here the early days of the great statesman, Charles James, were passed ; and here lived the late patriotic translator of Lope de Vega, amid the society of the first spirits of the age. It has been rumoured that the present amiable and intelligent possessor, his son, contemplated pulling down this venerable and remarkable mansion. Such a thought never did, and never could, for a moment enter his mind, which feels too proudly the honours of intellect and taste, far above all mere rank, which there surround his name and family.

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POPE, who was born in London, spent nearly the whole of his life between Binfield, in Windsor Forest, and Twickenham. They were his only two constant residences; the time which he passed in London, he passed but as a visitor, or lodger. Town poet, or poot of society, as he seems, he was inseparably attached to the country though it was the country of an easily accessible vicinity to towi and itself pretty thickly inhabited by people of rank and intelligenc From the time that his father purchased the property at Binfie with the exception of a short time at school at Twyford, near W chester, and at another school in Marylebone, which was remov while he was there to Hyde Park Corner, Pope never quitted Bin as a residence, till he bought Twickenham. "He went soon after twelfth year from school, and he continued to reside at Binfield 1716, when he was twenty-eight years of age; and singularly end he lived at Twickenham twenty-eight years more, dying in 1744, at the age of fifty-six.

As is the case of many other people, who, with all their p sophy, are not content to rest their claims to distinction on own virtues and achievements, there was an attempt on the pa Pope to hang his family on an aristocratic peg; and, as was t

expected in the case of a man who did not spare his enemies, and who wrote Dunciads, there was as stout an attempt to pull this peg out. In his Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, he makes this claim for his parentage

" Of gentle blood, part shed in honour's cause,
Whilst yet in Britain honour had applause,

Each parent sprang." And in a note to that Epistle we are further informed, “ that Mr. Pope's father was a gentleman of family in Oxfordshire, the head of which was the Earl of Downe, whose sole heiress married the Earl of Lindsay. His mother was the daughter of William Turnor, of York," &c. In reply to this, Warton tells us that when Pope published this note, a relation of his own, a Mr. Pottinger, observed that his cousin, Pope, bad made himself out a fine pedigree, but he wondered where he got it; that he had never heard anything himself of their being related to the Earls of Downe; and, what was more, he had an old maiden aunt, equally related, a great genealogist, who was always talling of her family, but never mentioned this circumstance, on which she certainly would not have been silent, had she known anything of it. That the Earl of Guildford had examined the pedigree and descents of the Downe family, for any such relationship; and that at the Heralds' Office, this pedigree, which Pope had made out for himself, was considered to be as much fabricated as Mr. Ireland's descent from Shakspeare.

This was one of Pope's weaknesses. No man did more than he did, in his day, to free literature from the long degradation of servile, fulsome dependence on patrons. He created a property for himself by his own literary exertions, and set a splendid example to literary men of independence. He showed them that they might be free, honourable, and even wealthy, by their own means. He had the pride to place himself on equal terms with lords, when they were intellectual, but he scorned to flatter them. It was a pride worthy of a literary man, and it was well that when he departed from this just feeliog, and would fain set up a claim to rank with them on their own terms of family and descent-a proceeding which undermined his true and unassailable principle of the dignity of geniusthat he should receive a due reprimand from the hands of his eneries. The moment that he abandoned in any degree the patent of God, the long and luminous descent of genius from heaven, a patent far above all other patents, a descent far higher than all other descents,-it was a fitting retribution that the pigmies of the Danciad should fling it in his face that his father was a mechanic, & hatter, or a cobbler,-as it appears that they did, from his reply to Lord Hervey and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who themselves bad thus addressed him in print:

" None thy crabbed numbers can endure,

Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure." The simple fact was, that Pope's grandfather, the highest they aald trace the family, was a clergyman in Hampshire. The second SOD WR2 Alexander, the father of the poet. This Alexander was

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