THE NOTE-BOOK OF AN IRISH BARRISTER.'-No. IV.

JUDGE PERRIN.

"In illo viro tantum robur corporis atque animæ fuit ut, quocumque in loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur."-LIVY ON CATO THE ELDER.

OUR last memoir was a rapid portraiture of Richard Sheil, whose quickness and intense brilliancy of fancy and language shone out with amazing lustre, and, at an early age, recommended him to public admiration-an admiration which floats luminously around him, unstained and unspotted, to the present day. We shall now attempt to delineate the character of a man who has attained an exalted rank in the esteem of his country, but cast in a completely different mould, and endowed with a set of mental qualities wholly opposite in their nature. The career of both, although tending to the same noble object, and operating in the same national direction-the assertion of free principles, and the disenthralment of Ireland from the ignominious fetters which centuries of indefatigable oppression had firmly woven round it—was widely different. The early dawning of Mr. Sheil's intellect was hailed with acclamation-his star almost culminiated at a bound-there was a magic in his molten words that fascinated the ear, and led wondering millions of his countrymen captive at the wheels of his glowing genius. Louis Perrin had none of those refined charms to dazzle or attract multitudes-he possessed not that combination of brilliant faculties which elevated the former to the rank of a popular favourite at a period of life, when others of the same age scarcely emerge from the thoughtless frivolities of boyhood. He never cared to indulge in vertiginous flights of declamation, or hazarded his usual serenity by venturing it in extravagant passion. Remaining content with the less alluring destiny of keeping himself within the circle of calm and unimpassioned reasoning, and preferring unadmired coldness to unfruitful precipitancy, he never forced himself on the consideration of the masses by the effusions of a wild and tumultuous eloquence. He was not

"I' the Campus Martius vein."

He never took his stand on the public platform as an habitual public orator. That was not the theatre of his power. His ancient plainness of manners and singleness of heart-his opposition to notoriety, bordering almost on repulsion, influenced him to adopt a course more moderate and less ostentatious: he moved forward in the cause of public purity and virtue with a steady and unbroken progression, and, like the formation of the coral reef, worked his way inch by inch to honour and the ermine. Not that he was unconcerned or inactive in the last great strife of thirty years, or came up when the parallels were run, and the outworks carried. True, he was not of the

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heroic stormers who entered the breach; but he assaulted from the commencement the ragged battlement of bigotry, and cheered the besiegers with exhortation and counsel. In the fiery contention of faction he took no prominent part-the limited and dusty career of the bar was sufficient to occupy his attention: he laid himself out with a leech-like pertinacity to master its perplexities, and solve the dark enigmas of the law-a toil to monopolize the undivided attention of him who hopes for, and would merit, success. He was one of these. But professional assiduity did not extinguish feelings of a higher and holier nature-if such were a general consequence, how many venerated names, now familiarized as household words, would have passed away from our history? With him true magnanimity was something more than a romantic virtue, to be found only in the imaginations of poets, or among the heroes of novelists. He generously refused to bow the knee of sycophancy before Cæsar, or offer up the debased perfume of political profligacy at the altar of intrigue: his enthusiasm of principle, the depth and earnestness of his honest spirit, which the charms of individual aggrandisement could not pacify, enabled him, amid Machiavelism and corruption, to maintain that triumphant front which the pure and worthy oppose to the assaults of insincerity and servility. The manly and athletic character of his understanding supported him with unshaken firmness through a dreary and unprofitable career; and when honour sacrificed its purity at the shrine of an unholy ambition, he was like Milton's generous seraph, "still faithful found.”

A philosopher has asserted of history, that it was one grand conspiracy against truth-a predication may be made of the Irish bar in the beginning of the present century, that it was one grand conspiracy against Irish regeneration. Like the ancient helots, they were found selling gold for brass-glory for abasement. What a melancholy degeneracy to contrast its then humbled state with the magnificent fervour which animated it from the era of independence to the union? They were its days of patriotic triumph, when its members were too independent to be restrained, and too pure to be corrupted. Some put on the official collar; but they were men without celebrity, as they were without virtue. The bar formed a body of exalted pride, that nobly interposed, only for a mournful season, between Mr. Pitt and the destruction of a nation. When the fiat went forth to merge the rising lustre of Ireland in the blaze of her more powerful, though less fortunate, sister, with an ancient enthusiasm, worthy of such a cause, the Irish bar stood forth, and lifted up the trumpettones of a great eloquence-ardent, anathematising-which would not have dishonoured the proudest intellect of Greece or Rome in the days of their glory. Men of powerful talents and inflexible virtue, with the eloquence of fierce and terrible invective, arousing the pride of national resentment against the insulting attempts of England! Surely it was a spectacle which nations might admire and envy, to behold one hundred and sixty of the wisest and most virtuous of her children, influenced only by the sainted cause of national liberty, standing up for their country, and rallying round her fainting standard whatever honour had survived the general wreck of

truth and freedom! Plunkett was there-filled with an holy fervor→ swearing his country and his children at the altar of liberty, and devoting to the infernal gods the traitor who would dare to lay profane hands on the sacred ark of the constitution! Bushe was there— overflowing with all the polished graces of intellectual refinementgathering up his eloquent energies for a magnificent effort to shield the land of his birth and his renown from the insidious poison of England! Ball was there the pure and incorruptible-warning with his solemn and sonorous voice the hesitating or timid against the consequences of unmanly doubt, and declaring in words of flame, "There is no privilege in the constitution-no power in the laws, which can enable the Irish Parliament to sell itself!" Goold was there impetuous and enthusiastic-running rapidly and effectively over every chord of the Irish heart, and concluding with the memorable and innocent adjuration which has already passed into history"The great Creator of the world has given our beloved country the gigantic outlines of a kingdom. She was never destined by Nature to become a province, and by G-d she never shall!" Joy was there-firm and uncompromising-searing with hot sarcasm the ignominious advocates of ruin and treason-and resting the independence of Ireland on arguments drawn from the profoundest depths of reason and constitutional law. Jaurin was there-bold and intrepid-strewing coals of fire in the pathway of the minister. All these great and unforgotten names powerfully represented the high tone of feeling which swelled the heart of the bar. But the scene changed-the sky was overcast--and the Union, like a slab of black marble, fell on the land, and on it was written death and desolation. College Green no more rang with the acclamations of a liberated people-the Irish oak was transplanted, and withered-it found no nutriment in a foreign soil. The vitality of Ireland was extinct, and the symptoms of decay were nowhere more visible than at the bar. There was no graduated ebb in the enthusiasm for public liberty. The Romans of yesterday were the Carians of to-day. They seemed to have passed at once from the dignified rank of the tribunes of a nation to the spiritless extreme of selfish apathy. Country was forgotten, and they ingloriously kissed the hem of the purple garment of power. But there were found men who walked the ways of worth and of rectitude, undazzled by the splendours and unfascinated by the lures of false ambition-men who preferred the exalted pride derivable from consistency of character, and that rich glow which warms the breast of conscious virtue, to all the melancholy happiness which adorn spotted faith and immolated honour. Cast in the stoic mould of patriotism, they were vessels untouched by the impure finger of faction. Of these the most conspicuous was Louis Perrin. He was never known to abate the high principle on which his conduct through life was based. The name of "honest Louis Perrin" has almost passed into an Irish proverb; and certainly if forty years of undiminished integrity be a test of its truth, the epithet of "just" was not more worthily applied to Aristides than that of "honest to him.

The Four Courts is one of those places of public resort which has never-failing attractions for the lover of news and bustle. There is

so much of animation and energy-so much of pleasurable and varied confusion in the quick and constant succession of crowds passing in and out. Every man a microcosm-the centre of a world of business-there alone you may see him in the full activity of life. You may find the man of ease or enjoyment in a thousand places, but busy, active man, in the region of the courts. This activity is rendered more striking by the strange contrast exhibited in the habitual stillness of many gentlemen of the long robe. There they ever are-compact and grouped-the same smiling faces in the same familiar circle. Like Gray's Enthusiast, they never fail to arrive at the "old accustomed spot;" and really they appear to have surmounted their heads with powdered horse-hair, only for the purpose of standing six hours a day, discussing politics with acrimony, or sneering at political purity. From my earliest thinking days the Irish courts had an attraction for me. I had heard and read of the great lawyers and orators of Ireland-and the scene of their triumphs was consecrated in my eyes. When I first saw the noble green dome, and the fine massive architecture which supports it, I was struck with its majesty. I inquired to what purpose it was devoted; and no sooner were my youthful inquiries satisfied, than I shot down the noble range of quays like an arrow. The first court to which chance directed my steps was the King's Bench, (or if you will have it—the Queen's,) it was Nisi Prius day, and I forced my way into the side-bar. Mr. Wallace had just closed the statement of his case, and after evidence had been gone into to a very considerable length, a middle-sized, muscular man spoke powerfully to evidence. His brows were dark and menacing-heavy as if a thunder-cloud had settled on them-they appeared to be unformed for relaxation, so cold and stern. His forehead low, but strong and bony, indicating firmness and resolution— his nose aquiline, and slightly deflected from the natural perpendicular, and his lips drooping at both extremities, gave him a severe and striking appearance. The Chief Justice addressed him as "Mr. Perrin." I knew then, for the first time, who he was. There was none of that playful and mercurial cheerfulness in his manner or language so characteristic of Irishmen-his argument never took a vivacious turn, although the case was one from which O'Connell or Holmes would have worked out all the elements of mirth and "laughter holding both his sides;" but he was immovable in the cause of seriousness-he would not provoke a laugh. His countenance betrayed no passing indications of powerful or refined emotions; but there was in it a remarkable fixedness, expressing in its deep solemnity a strong consciousness of superior power, blended with a philosophic immobility of purpose. I never beheld a man whose countenance more expressively reflected the nature of his intellectual and moral character. His language was of a masculine and persuasive cast, spoken in a strong confident tone-there were none of those strong lights and deep shadows, the artistic effects which give a relief and elevation to oratory-no beauty of expression or brilliancy of sentiment, but the whole was suffused with a warm glow of good sense and redolent with the spirit of a sterling practical understanding. Glare or oppression there was none-nothing that attracted peculiar

attention, but all the parts were blended in sober and well-tempered harmony. His repetitions were frequent, but they were founded on the parts of his case which were most available for his client, and which he endeavoured to impress with most earnestness on the jury -and he was successful. In the statement of his defence he appeared to me to excel. All unnecessary circumstances were thrown aside; every fact that could weaken or disturb the strength of his cause was ingeniously cushioned, while every matter of importance was brought forward and set in a light so striking, and all linked together with observations so true and powerful, which insidiously appeared to arise from the facts themselves, that I felt convinced almost before the argument to sustain them began. He seemed to act less the artful part of the advocate "than the plain unaffected part of a christian man instructing the consciences of his fellow-men in the jury-box to do justice."* In the intellectual cast of the two advocates there was a strong similarity. In both a manly and unswerving firmness prevailed-a daring and resolute energy to accomplish the great object of their early mission-a boldness and self-reliance, the attributes of great minds-by which both worked their way to the conspicuous rank they held at the Irish bar.

I have been unable to collect any facts relative to the more early period of his lordship's life, but I believe he was not of the silken favourites on whom the gilded smile of fortune loves to fall. Working his unsubdued way against the tide of adverse circumstances, he ascended the first step to the temple of distinction. From the Diocesan School in Armagh, where he had imbued the first principles of his education, he entered college as pensioner in the year 1796, where he soon distinguished himself by the depth and variety of his classical knowledge. In 1799 he was elected scholar of the University. The famous society that nurtured so much of the eloquence and erudition of Ireland was then in the full flush of matured grandeur. A great generation of orators had passed from its benches to illuminate the pulpit, the senate, and the bar. On its proud forehead was still the morning star of hope, on which a youthful and ambitious generation gazed with all the anxiety of enthusiastic minds for the race of rival glory. The rich bloom of summer was not replaced by the sere-leaf of winter. From the bar Plunkett, Curran, and Bushe, were rolled into the senate-Kirnan shook cathedrals with a divine eloquence that alternately melted and appalled. Such successes generated a spirit of noble emulation, and the young intellect of Ireland was awakened to thoughts of national dignity and grandeur. "The trophies of Miltiades" would not suffer them to sleep. Emmett led what was called the patriotic party, and under that zealous and unfortunate spirit Louis Perrin learned the groundwork of the heroic principles which he loftily maintained through all the bitterness and darkness of the past. In the Society he was first imbued with the ennobling fervour of true liberty, which, of all other moral sentiments, tends most to fill the heart with a delightful consciousness of our own dignity, and instils the bosom of youth with the delightful enjoyments of selfreverence and self-honour. Under the colours of Emmett Mr. Per* Erskine's Speech on Lord George Gordon's trial.