nor extinguished his benevolence. To punish the living for the misdeeds of those who had been a century and a half in their graves, and such misdeeds basely amplified, was, he thought, a policy peculiarly humiliating to the understandings of those who practised it. Such vulgarity of sentiment he could not indulge in. But the liberty and prosperity of his country were his objects; and as he saw that they could not be obtained but partially, without a general union of Irishmen, his ruling passion, even in death, not withered, but regulated by long experience, and much reflection, led him to some dereliction of early opinions, and the experiment of a novel policy.

Lord Charlemont co-operated often, indeed generally, with those who acted as a party, and professed that they did so; a party founded on common principles, and those principles congenial to the common interest. A party pursuing such a system is necessary in our form of government, and is to be applauded. But let us not panegyrize or expect too much. The more ignoble motives of human action often intermingle themselves with the pursuits of every party; and how often is a debate brought forward, or a question opposed, for the sole purpose of gratifying the spleen or humour of the day? Plus stomacho, quam consilio dedit, may be regarded as the device of too many oppositions; and it is no less ungenerous than unwise, for it not only injures them in the eyes of the public, but eventually proves the source of embarrassing, and most awkward personal molesta

tion, when they come into office, as it furnishes their adversaries with such copious and inconvenient recollections. In truth, to hear some leaders of opposition talk, one would imagine that they never meant to come into power; and when they are in power, so dissimilar is their language, that they never were once out of it. To all such leaders, Lord Charlemont never belonged. Or, could we even suppose that, unintentionally, or above all suspicion of their motives, he was, for a moment united with such, it might be truly said of him, as Antony said of Brutus,

"He only in a general, honest thought, "And common good to all, made one of them."

Whatever his accidental or necessary co-operation, his party was only that of his country; and if, in his Parliamentary conduct, there was any particular defect, it arose merely from that jealousy, which, certainly, not only the constitution abstractedly, but the situation of this

country, too often demanded; a jealousy, however, which, in some few instances, might be said to have extended too far, and without that necessary allowance for human dealings, which our lamentable nature so frequently requires. Nothing could be more just, or more worthy the attention of Ireland, than the observation of Mr. Fox, in his letter to Lord Charle

mont

"That country can never prosper, where what should be the ambition of men of honour, is considered as a disgrace."

It was sadly exemplified in Ireland. Had those who enjoyed and deserved public confidence,

taken office in defiance of popular prejudice, their disinterestedness might have gradually worn out that prejudice, and by adding public opinion to the weight of their own character, out-balanced mere ministerial authority on many an important topic. That he did not speak in Parliament, or in public, LordCharlemont always lamented. It is surely not necessary, though some writers have thought it so, to make an apology for that which can require none, and introduce a crowd of splendid names, Addison, Prior, Soame Jenyns, and others, to keep, according to a trite phrase, any senator in countenance, who never delivered his sentiments in Parliament. The talent of public speaking is a peculiar gift; and whatever Lord Chesterfield may say on the subject, though prac tice will certainly improve such a faculty, nature must bestow it, as much as another endowment of the mind. In private conversation, Lord Charlemont was above most men. No one could speak with more ease, purity, and perspicuity. But they who imagine that those persons who so excel, would equally excel in public, adopt a very erroneous opinion. Collo. quial powers are, in truth, so totally distinct, that he who is highly gifted with such, and has long exercised them apart from politics, will find it difficult, perhaps impossible, at a certain period of life, to catch the tone and style of public speaking. Even at the academy, where he might have been said to be at home, Lord Charlemont could not deliver any thing that had the semblance of a speech, or an harangue, without being totally disconcerted, but he

was then far from young. Had he, in earlier life, persevered in his efforts as a public speaker, I make no doubt that he would have been an excellent one. That he was alive to every nobler feeling in public life, has been amply shown. His sensibility, and delicacy of taste, led him to the study of the fine arts, and polite literature in all its branches. Hence his communication with every erudite or lettered man, at home or abroad: the Marquis Maffei, in Italy, Prince Czartoryski, in Poland, St. Palaye, Nivernois, Montesquieu, and the Comte de Caylus, in France. He had a great respect for some of the Scotch literati ; but I am not enabled to particu larize them. The men of science and genius in England, to whom he was known, have been already mentioned. Mr. Malone, whom the lovers of Shakspeare must ever respect, he always loved and esteemed, and preserved an uninterrupted correspondence with. Of his countrymen who resided altogether in Ireland, Dr. Leland, that excellent scholar, mentions his Lordship as his first and early patron, and their intercourse was liberal and frequent; many others might be adduced, or have been so, in the course of this work. I believe that few instances occur, of any one so engaged in public life, as for more than forty years he was, who paid such unremitting attention to letters.

In painting, sculpture, and above all, in architecture, his taste and knowledge were discriminating and profound. Yet his modesty and uniform desire to assist inge nious merit were no ways inferior. The late Dr. Quin, who was him

self an excellent judge of the fine arts, used to say, that he had just reason to believe, that Lord Charlemont himself planned the temple at Marino, and resigned the credit of it to Sir William Chambers. There was scarcely a contemporary artist of any merit, whom he did not know; and many of them, in the earlier part of their lives, he patronized. With Athenian Stuart, as he was called, he lived in entire intimacy, as well as with Hogarth. Various are the letters from persons abroad, the Abbe Grant, so well known formerly to the English at Rome, and others, recommending young artists to his attention. He was, in truth, an unostentatious Mæcenas, and his fortune, it cannot be denied, was considerably impaired by his attachment to, and encouragement of, the fine arts. Men of scientific pursuits were also cherished by him: Sir Joseph Banks particularly, who was highly valued by, and very dear to him.

As to his domestic character, without the predominating excellence of which, all the ornaments which literature or manners can bestow, are of diminished lustre, he was an indulgent father, a tender husband, a generous and kind master, an ardent, sincere friend. Tointrude on the private concerns of any family, would be indelicate; but, were it so permitted, his disinterestedness as a relation, might be shown in the most favourable point of view. Sometimes, not frequently, he was irritable, but easily appeased. That irritability showed itself more in the House of Commons, than any other place whatever. Among the country gentlemen he had numerous

friends, and very general influence. To the freedom of public opinion, he had every respect, but if some of those gentlemen, as was now and then the case, took a part in debate, or voted in a manner which he had reason to imagine was directed by oblique motives, they were certain, if they met him in the lobby, of encountering a tolerably sharp reprimand. The importance of the House of Commons was, he used to say, in a great measure sustained by the county members, and when such men relinquished their independence, they relinquished every thing. But his anger was not often displayed; and so transient, that it could not be said to derogate from that suavity of manners which so eminently characterized him. From some prejudices, or dislikes, he was not free. Whence it arose I know not, but he had, through life, almost a repugnance to the French. Of his friend, the Duc de Nivernois, he would, after speaking highly of him, generally add, "But he is not a Frenchman, he is an Italian." This, however, was said in mere unbended conversation, and far remote from any illiberality, which could warp his judgment in essential matters, either as to literature or morals. He highly esteemed several of the French nobility, and never mentioned the old, generous Maréchal de Biron, without a degree of enthusiasm. In the lighter species of poetry, and memoir writing, he considered the French as excelling all others; but their graver poets were not equally the objects of his admiration. Altogether, their literary character, and the romantic courtesy, and

high honour, which in the superior classes were so often blended with that character, peculiarly engaged, and even fascinated his attention. But the general mass of Frenchmen he was not attached to. His life, when in Dublin, and not engaged by the Volunteers, was extremely uniform. He was on horseback every morning, and afterwards employed in various business till about one o'clock; at that time, or soon after, he went to his library, and remained there till almost dinner time. His friends had then constant access to him; and, considering the frequent interruption of visitors, it is a matter of some surprize, that he was enabled to write so much as he did. But it is a proof that not one moment of his time was unemployed. When Parliament was sitting, he regularly attended his duty there; and as the Lords, if not detained by particularly important business, rose rather early, he was to be met every day in the House of Commons, where, from long usage, he was almost regarded as a member. Those who have sat next to him, during a debate, cannot forget the vivacity and justness of his remarks on the different speakers. As president of the academy, he equally attended their meetings, and when his health was interrupted, the academy, from their respect to him, adjourned their sittings to Charlemont House. At home, and in the bosom of his family, he enjoyed domestic society, with tranquil, unruffled satisfaction and pleasure. From continued study during part of his life, his eyes had suffered irreparable injury, and, on that account, some one of his family constantly read

to him every evening which was not given to mixed company.

As to his person, Lord Charlemont was of the middle size, or rather above it; but he stooped considerably, especially towards the latter part of his life; the effect, I believe, of ill health. When he appeared with his blue ribband, and in full dress at the levee, his air and deportment were exactly those of a Foreign Ambassador of the highest rank. His eyebrows were large and black. His features, when a young man, to judge of him from one or two portraits, were of a softened and delicate cast; but pain and indisposition soon perform the work of age, and even before he reached middle life, bad materially changed them. They became expanded, strong, and more expressive than handsome. When he spoke, or addressed any one, the amenity of his mind was diffused over his countenance, and rendered it peculiarly engaging.

CHARACTER OF BEILBY PORTEUS, D. D. late Lord Bishop of London.

From the Life of that Prelate, by

the Rev. Robert Hodgson.

The Bishop was in person under the middle size, of a thin and slender frame, and naturally of a tender constitution. In his youth he must have been extremely handsome; his features were of a superior cast: and, even when advanced in years, he still retained a remarkable clearness of complexion. These, however, were not the circumstances, which formed the prominent character of his coun

tenance. There was a mildness, a gentleness, an air of genuine philanthropy about it, with which even indifferent persons were al ways struck; and yet, when lighted up by the occasion, it displayed the utmost vivacity and animation. His smile had something in it uncommonly captivating; and, though he never lost sight of that dignity which became his station, it was yet a dignity totally unmixed with pride. He had the enviable talent of dissipating at once that feeling of reserve and apprehension, which, in the presence of a superior, is so often a bar to the freedom and comfort of social intercourse, and by the graciousness of his manner placing those around him perfectly at ease. He delighted in cheerful, lively conversation, and no one ever more promoted it, or perhaps more excelled in it. There was a spirit and playfulness in his language, which gave an interest even to the most ordinary topics; and on subjects of graver import, he always appeared to great advantage. His remarks were conspicuous for correct taste, accurate information, and a sound and well regulated judgment; and he expressed himself with so much facility and perspicuity, so much natural energy and eloquence, as never failed to excite attention, and render his society equally instructive and entertaining.

In estimating his intellectual acquirements, I do not think that profound erudition can be ascribed to him. He had not the inclination, if he had the faculty, to fix and concentrate his thoughts on any one particular science. His imagination was too active and

ardent for such exclusive applica tion. Perhaps, if he had followed the natural bent of his genius, poetry would have been his favourite pursuit. He saw every thing with a poet's eye; he loved to dwell and expatiate on the wild scenes of nature; his fancy was easily fired, and his affections moved; and he had all that enthusiasm of feeling, which delights in warm and glowing description. As, however, he had other views in life, he very wisely checked this early impulse, and applied himself to graver studies. In classical literature, he held unquestionably no mean rank; for, without that critical exactness, which constitutes the profound scholar, he had read with attention the best writers of antiquity, both Greek and Latin; entered with taste and discernment into their various beauties; and, as his memory was strong and retentive, could recall withoutdifficulty whatever in them was most worthy of being remembered. In his admirable tract, for instance, on the Beneficial Effects of Christianity, there is an appeal to ancient authorities in confirmation of his argument, which marks an intimate acquaintance with Pagan history, and the books of principal credit, from which any accurate account could be collected of the manners, habits, and circumstances of Pagan nations. It is evident from that treatise, that he was completely master of his subject; that he had within his grasp whatever could illustrate and enforce it; and that, by a full and ample statement of well-authenticated facts, he has unanswerably proved his position.