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SIR ROBERT PEEL, AND HIS CLAIMS TO BE REMEMBERED BY THE LITERARY MEN OF ENGLAND.

One of the most interesting of the recently published parts of Murray's Reading for the Rail is unquestionably Theodore Hook, a Sketch, which has been reprinted from the Quarterly Review, with some additional notes. Of these there is one (at p. 62.) which presents us with the following honorable and characteristic anecdote of the late Sir Robert Peel:—

"The writer of this sketch, now that Sir R. Peel is no more among us, takes this, perhaps his only opportunity of mentioning the generosity of that statesman's conduct towards Maginn. The Doctor having always retained the strong feelings of an Irish Orangeman, was one of those who condemned with severity Sir Robert's pro-Catholic policy of 1829; nor, perhaps was there any one writer of the time by whom the personal motives of the minister were more unmercifully dealt with. The Doctor assailed them with unwearied pertinacity, in various newspapers and magazines; but especially in rhymes only less galling than the fiercest of Swift's. He had never been personally acquainted with Peel, who could have known nothing about him so distinctly as this hostility. Yet when, a few years before Maginn's death, some of his friends were privately making a subscription to relieve him from some pressing difficulties, Sir Robert, casually hearing of it, immediately sent through the writer of this sketch, with a stipulation for secrecy, the sum of 100l. as a contribution to the fund. The writer believes that Sir Robert on various subsequent occasions interfered on the Doctor's behalf in a manner not less liberal, and with the same delicate precautions. At all events, when the doctor was near his end, Sir Robert forwarded for his use a similar benefaction of 100l. The writer has no reason to suppose that Maginn was ever aware of any of these kind deeds. It remains to be added that, some years after Dr. Maginn's death, his only son, on attaining the requisite age, received a cadetship in the East Indies from Sir Robert Peel's last government."—(1852.)

The perusal of this interesting passage has reminded us of a desire which we felt most strongly at the time when the country lost the distinguished man to whom it relates; and which we should then have given expression to, but for the fear that in the multitude of projects for doing honour to his memory then floating before the public eye, what we had to propose might not be received in the way which his merits deserved.

Sir Robert Peel was pre-eminently a patron of English Literature and literary men; and we hoped, and do still hope, to see a recognition of his great claims in that special character on the part of the men of letters in this country. The most appropriate that occurs to us would be the erection of his bust or statue in the vestibule of that national establishment, in the welfare and management of which he always took so great an interest—we mean the British Museum.

The minister who, in terms alike honorable to himself and to the man of letters to whom the dignity was offered, tendered a baronetcy to Southey, and conferred upon him a pension of 300l. a year—who gave the same amount to Wordsworth—who gave to James Montgomery 150l. a year, and to Tytler, to Tennyson, and to M'Culloch, each 200l. a year—who bestowed a pension upon Frances Brown, and gave a 100l. a year to the widow of Thomas Hood—who gave the first appointment of his first administration to a son of Allan Cunningham, and placed the sons of Mrs. Hemans in the service of the Crown,—Sir Robert Peel, the man and the minister who could thus recognise the claims of Literature,[1] and not, like ministers of old, stipulate for a return in the political support of those whom he so distinguished, was surely a person whose memory the men of letters in this country should not be slow to honour.

[1] We have confined our remarks to Sir Robert Peel's patronage of Literature; but that patronage was as liberally bestowed upon Science and Art. To him Mrs. Somerville and Sir M. Faraday were indebted for their pensions; and while his friendship with Lawrence, Wilkie, and Chantrey, and his patronage of Collins, Roberts, Stansfield, &c., cannot be forgotten, his prompt and most kind response to poor Haydon's application for assistance, though addressed to him at a moment when plunged in the fiercest political struggle in which he was ever engaged, can never be forgotten.

Let us hope that the moment has arrived when they will do justice to him who was so ready to recognise their claims. Let Lord Mahon or Mr. Hallam, who enjoyed the friendship of Sir Robert Peel, step forward and begin the good work. An appeal from either of them would arouse a host. They would be supported by all who love Literature, from the highest to the humblest. Who can doubt that the author of Coningsby and the author of Don Carlos would rejoice at the opportunity, which would thus be afforded them, of uniting to do honour to the memory of a political opponent, in that character in which he deservedly won the applause of all men—as the judicious and munificent PATRON OF THE LITERATURE OF OUR NATIVE COUNTRY.

Notes.

SITTING IN BEDE'S CHAIR.

One of the most interesting antiquities of Jarrow Church, Northumberland, is the chair of the Venerable Bede. It is preserved in the vestry of the church, whither all brides repair as soon as the marriage service is over, to seat themselves upon it. This, according to the popular belief, will make them the joyful mothers of children; and the expectant mothers (as I have been informed) would not consider the marriage ceremony complete, until they had been enthroned in the Venerable Bede's chair. The chair is very rude and substantial; made of oak; in height, four feet ten inches; having an upright back, and sides that slope off for the arms. According to the barbarous English fashion, it is carved over with the nomenclature of all the vulgar obscurities of the neighbourhood, whose sacrilegious penknives, together with the wanton depredations of relic-hunters, have so "shorn" the chair of its "fair proportions," that soon nothing but its attenuated form, "small by degrees, and beautifully less," will be left for the future Childe Harold to address with—

Every foreigner who has visited our churches and cathedrals cannot fail to remark how the English love of popularity glares forth in its most sickly form in this barbarous custom of writing and carving names upon monuments, or other works of art. Every observant person, too, when he sees John Smith's name and full address, scratched with painful and elaborate accuracy upon the stern but noseless face of some alabaster knight, while he wonders at the gratuitous trouble which John Smith has taken, must deplore the want of education thus so lamentably evinced. Happily, this vulgar taste (so far as our churches are concerned) is now under some control; but, nevertheless, it is still sad to see—at Lichfield, for example—that control obliged to take the visible shape of railings, to prevent Messrs. Smith, Brown, Jones, and Robinson from handing their names down to