meet, with a long sword at his side. Duiguenan did not make his appear- appearance, but he wrote a poem criticising Grattan's figure with his long s sword. It was comical; Day showed it to Grattan, who was amused by the humorous turn, and so the affair ended.

" Perhaps," says the latter, "it was owing to this trifling incident that the animosity was engendered, which afterwards displayed itself throughout Duiguenan's character and conduct."

But this unsubstantial motive was wholly inconsistent with the characters of both. They had a more sufficient reason; - strong diversity of opinion, both political and religiousopposite views on the most important subjects of life and government.

Grattan had early formed his antipathy to the powers that be. In 1768, he thus exults over the Irish Parliament: "I am glad that sink of prostitution, the Irish Parliament, is to be drained octennially. This will control it, if it cannot amend, and may improve what is in the last stage of putrefaction, and cannot change without being bettered." He then turns his wrath upon both Ireland and England with the same bitterness of rebuke, and the same pointed vigour which constituted the language of his Parliamentary life.

"The old court party, that have been corrupt expediencers for so many ages, honour the cause they forsake, and, like the black train of physic, inform the neighbourhood of their patient's health by their departure. The same bartering, the same venality which you mention as commencing in Ireland, reigns in England with avowed dominion." The instance which he gives of the Corporation of Oxford, is curiously put. "This corporation," says Grattan, “had sold its representation. Being brought before the House of Commons, it made no defence, and, being committed to jail, it sent a declaration of penitence, concluding, however, at the same time, the sale it was punished for attempting. This is astonishing; that no further penalty is inflicted on this bold prostituted body is more so."

His fondness for the picturesque is conspicuous in his early letters. Of the country around Sunning Hill, he says, in another letter-"The country I am in is most beautiful. There is

an antiquity and wildness in the wood. lands here, infinitely surpassing what I have met with-whole tracts of country covered with nature, without the least interval of art. These are the forests of which Pope has sung with so much elegance, and which has been a sanctuary as well as a theme to the masters of poetry."

In another letter to his friend Broome, he mentions his having been present at a memorable Parliamentary debate, and gives a slight sketch of the principal speakers. The intent and tendency of the motion was to obtain from Parliament a promise of support for Lord North.

"Lord North, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, a man versed in state mystery and little versed in finances, spoke in defence of the Court, in a manner impetuous, not rapid; full of cant, not melody; deserved the eulogium of a fervent speaker, not a great one. Grenville, on the part of the Opposition, was peevish and wrangling, and provoked those whom he could not defeat. Burke, the only orator I have yet heard in the House of Commons (and the character arises from his matter, not his delivery,) was impetuous, oratorical, and undaunted; he treated the Ministry with high contempt, and displayed with most animated derision their schemes and purposes."

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Some of those letters give melancholy traits of his mind. "There are times," he writes, (" at least I feel such,) when we lose every pleasing sensation; when our relish is suspended, and self-dissatisfaction becomes the state of the intellect. At times like these, I dare not write to you (his friend Broome), and be sure, whenever I am guilty of delay, not my regard but my mental economy is impaired. I have moments (I dare say you have them also) of despondency, regret, apathy, and the rest of that deadly train that disturbs our peace and defeats our purposes. They do not continue long, burn without cause, without cause they vanish." He then touches on his general reading, and gives sketches, striking but one-sided, of the English historians. "I have lately dipped a little into English history. Lord Clarendon is amusing and instructive, but culpable in his language, his method, and his partiality. Burnet is vain and unclassical; his knowledge extensive, his understanding contemptible." Those were young opinions. In his maturer age he might have pronounced Clarendon deficient in method, but he must have acknowledged the dignity of his thoughts and the manliness of his principles. His History is the "monument" of English loyalty. The inelegance of Burnet's style is beyond dispute, but his "vanity" is a love of giving his authorities for truth; his unclassicality is a love of telling things as he heard them; and the fertileness of his understanding is to be discovered only in his having given us the best "history of his period" extant in li

terature.

But of Hume he says, "He is the only author who, from his abilities and compass, deserves the title of an English historian. Lord Bolingbroke has a rapidity that gives him sometimes a real, and always a seeming, superiority over those against whom he contends; his language is strenuous, his censure presumptuous, his spirit prodigious, his affectation of language great, his affectation of despising still greater. Next to Moses, Plato seems to be his great detestation." But, captivated as Grattan was by the flow and fervour of this eminent apostate's style, he had sagacity enough to see his hollowness. "Pity he should so desert the doctrine which he sets out to inculcate; and that he should fear to avow conclusions he seems so fairly to have deduced." It is curious that, with all his admiration for the style of Bolingbroke, he adopted one directly the reverse, and, with all his scorn for his principles, he made him his political master.

In this year Grattan lost his mother. Her death overwhelmed him with sorWe quote some of his expressions, for the benefit of those who think that genius is something too lofty to stoop to the domestic affections. Grattan was certainly not of the present school of magnificent misanthropy, which makes elevation of mind consist in contempt for all labours but those of shaking states or trampling on public morals-an elevation not unlike that of men who ascend mountains, and at once leave human nature below, and place themselves in chillness, barrenness, and solitude. Possessing the most remarkable talents, and talents especially for public life, no man

seems to have felt more fondly for his family. His language on the death of his father, who had used him with unfatherly harshness, is far from any unfilial retribution. His language on that of his mother, who, by an indolence, or an oversight equally cruel in its consequences, had died without a will, thus allowing a landed property, which she had intended for her son, to go out of the family, is ardently affectionate. Thus actually disinherited by the peevishness of one parent, and virtually disinherited by the carelessness of another, he appears never to have revenged his undoubted wrongs on the memory of either. Of his mother he writes in some memoranda, which seem to have been composed to give vent to the outpourings of his mind. "You were the only woman in the world who loved me; the love you bore me, the thousand kindnesses I have received from you, your tenderness, your anxiety, your liberality, your maternal concern for me, are a most affecting and wounding consideration. To remember these obligations with the gratitude they deserve, makes your death insupportable. Your good sense, your meekness in misfortune, your fortitude in suffering, the judicious love you distributed among your children, your generous negligence of yourself, place you among the first of women. A thousand amiable instances of your virtues, a thousand mutual obligations that interwove our affections, crowd on me, and afflict me. Your incomparable qualities tor, ment me now, though I was formerly proud to recollect them. Heaven forbid that you should only live in the memory of those who knew your virtues, and that such merit should have no reward but the tears and admiration of those that survive you!"

From the commencement of his life at the Temple, Grattan had evidently intended to adopt the career of politics. He was dazzled by Lord Chatham's celebrity, and thought all beneath Parliament contemptible. But he found either his original direction, or his principal excitement, in a speech made by a minister against the doc. trines which he so strenuously made his own. George Grenville was the minister who first proposed American taxation; nothing could be more natural than such a proposal. The American establishments were paid out of the English revenue-what could be more just than that America should pay for them, if she could? - yet it was against this demand that she rebelled. Grattan says, "When I went to London to the Temple, the first person I heard speak was George Grenville. He talked of American taxation, and of the indisputable law of the realm, which gave that right, and he extended this to Ireland. It made a great impression on me, and I felt very much at the time. I recollect taking great pains to answer him. I wrote a reply, which I thought was very good, and with much care; but it touched every point except the question-it stood clear of that. However, this had a great effect upon me, and was of much service. It impressed upon my mind a horror of this doctrine; and I believe it was owing to this speech of George Grenville's, that I became afterwards so very active in my opposition to the principles of British government in Ireland." Through his uncle Colonel Marlay, he was introduced to William Gerard Hamilton, Secretary to Lord Halifax, and Lord-Lieutenant in 1761. This was single-speech Hamilton, whom Walpole thus described, in his amusing and graphic style, in 1755.

His

"Young Mr Hamilton," says Walpole, who was present, "opened for the first time in behalf of the treaties, and was at once perfection. speech was set, and full of antitheses, but those antitheses were full of argument; and he broke through the regularity of his own composition, answered other people, and fell into his own track again with the greatest ease. His figure is advantageous, his voice strong and clear, his manner spirited, and the whole with the ease of an established speaker. You will ask what could be beyond this? Nothing, but what was beyond whatever was, and that was Pitt!" In December following, Mr Hamilton was rewarded with a seat at the Board of Trade; in 1761, he was appointed Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and for many years held the office of Chancel. lor of the Exchequer of that kingdom. He died in 1796. In one of his letters to Mr Calcraft, 1764, he writes: "It is thought that the move as to Ireland is still in agitation; this is all the news of the day. I need not tell you I am not so situated as to have any other information, nor do I wish it. Last

summer has convinced me that books are the true things to abide by. My fullintention is to follow your example, and to leave off business."

Grattan's mind in early life, exhibits the most wayward sensibility. He writes to his friend, in excuse for some interruption of their correspondence: "Forgive my tardiness, and pity the indisposition of my mind, instead of reproving my delay. The breast, the slave of a thousand discordant passions; now intoxicated with company, now saddening in solitude; sometimes disturbed with hope, sometimes depressed with despair, and equally ravaged with each; disgusted often, and often precipitately enamoured-all this makes me poor in my own esteem, and seem unkind in yours.

I live in the Temple, and have taken convenient chambers, that promote study. If ever we meet, we shall talk of these times with more happiness than we have passed through them.

He at last arrived in Ireland, where he had determined to fix himself, and to strike a bold stroke for that renown which he conceived was to be found only in political life. In 1770, he writes to his friend Day: "Ireland has been the scene of action the foregoing part of this winter. There has been no winter in which party has more fluctuated. At one time the independent men, as they call themselves, inclining to Government, and threatening to defeat the Speaker; at another time supporting the Speaker, and casting the balance against Government. Lord Townshend was rather despised than hated till this late measure.

" I shall soon be in England: I am tired of Dublin, with all its hospitality, and all its claret. Upon our arrival, it seemed a town hung in mourning, swarming with poverty and idleness. We feel relaxation growing upon us as soon as we arrive, and we catch the epidemic sloth of the luxurious capital."

With all his passion for Ireland, he was still strongly attached to England.

In another letter he says, " I am impatient to return to England: the splendid and the enrapturing scenes of London begin to wanton in my imagination. I have here reputable friends, and am myself not totally without credit; and yet, such is the perverseness of our nature, I am impatient to become an obscure character in another country."

Among the rest of his acquaintances was Boyd, who was so frequently suspected of being Junius. In later years, an application was made to Grattan to know his opinion on the subject. Being unable to write, Mrs Grattan, at his dictation, replied as follows:

"SIR, Mr Grattan, not being able to write, desires me to answer the letter you did him the honour to send. He does not recollect any fact which, at the time or since, inclined him to think that Mr Boyd was the author of ' Junius,' or connected with that publication. Were Mr Boyd Junius,' it was wholly without Mr Grattan's knowledge. His understanding was very considerable, his memory astonishing, and his literary powers very great; but whether he thought proper to give them the style and cast of Junius's composition, is what Mr Grattan cannot possibly undertake to say. He wishes every success to Mrs C.'s work, as it is the account of a person (whether Junius or not) whose life and talents were an ornament to letters, and his death an irretrievable loss."

A subsequent application was made to Grattan himself, in 1805, to know whether he was not the author, which he thus answered :

"SIR,-I can frankly assure you I know nothing of 'Junius,' except that I am not the author. When Junius began, I was a boy, and knew nothing of politics, or the persons concerned in them. I am, sir, not Junius, but your good wisher and obedient servant,

"HENRY GRATTAN."

Of the often-contested question of the authorship of Junius, the writer of the present volumes says, that Flood, who had been suspected, could not have been the author, if it were only for the simple circumstance, that a letter of Sir William Draper, dated the 17th of February 1769, was answered by Junius on the 21st, Flood being at that time in Ireland, and it not being possible for him to have written a reply, and published it in London within the space of four days. Grattan's own opinion was, that the letters were of the Burke school, and that Burke was the prime mover, if not the writer. He said: "There is nothing in the passage of Burke, where he alludes to Junius, on the subject of

ex-officio informations, that might not have been spoken by a person who had written Junius. I know that Boyd heard Burke make that very speech that night, and Boyd told me there was nothing he said then that would make him believe he had not written Junius. On the contrary, I incline to think, from the manner he spoke, that he did write it. Gerard Hamilton also said to me-If I was to die to-morrow unless I could tell who wrote Junius, I would lay my head quietly on the pillow to-night it was Burke.""

Still those are but conjectures-no evidence was offered then, nor has been offered since. In those days, Burke's brilliancy dazzled every one, and his fine powers were supposed to give him the mastery of every style; but we are probably now better capable of ascertaining those powers than in his own day. We have all his works before us, affording a different standard from that of a few fine speeches heard in the House, or turned into occasional pamphlets. With the volumes of Burke and the letters of Junius placed side by side, the difference of the styles is fundamental. The claims of Sir Philip Francis have been, within these few years, strongly urged; but he never urged them himself; he never acknowledged the letters; and, at an interval of fifty years, we can imagine no reason, of either fear or loyalty, which could have indisposed the temperament of Francis to decline so strong a title to political and literary fame. Few other candidates have appeared; none of them made good their title. The secret was said to be in an iron chest in Lord Grenville's custody; his lordship has since died, and we presume all his chests have been opened, but the secret has not made its appearance. However little it may be worth, it is certainly the best kept secret on record.

In the midst of political tumult, the native propensity for enjoyment exhibited itself in Ireland. Private theatricals were the fashion; the principal nobility opened their houses to these entertainments, and the chief Parliamentary personages were the performers. The celebrated Flood, the first man in the Irish Parliament, was a capital tragedian. Grattan wrote prologues; and the handsomest belles of the day performed queens and chambermaids. In one of his letters, Grattan mentions, with regret, his having lost the sight of "Tamerlane," in which one of the Irish "graces," the daughter of Sir William Montgomery, played. He speaks of it as " a most magnificent spectacle." Those three ladies were remarkable for wit and beauty. One of them was married to the viceroy, the other two to men of rank in Ireland. But there were two still more celebrated beauties, who seem to have astonished England-the Gunnings. One was married to the Earl of Coventry, the other to the Duke of Hamilton, and afterwards to the Duke of Argyle; yet thus doubly a duchess, she died at the age of twenty-seven. Their beauty was astonishing, or at least its effects were so. Walpole says, that on the marriage of the Duchess of Hamilton, crowds flocked to see her, and that seven hundred persons sat up all night round the inn in Yorkshire where she slept, that they might see her as she went into her carriage in the morning. The duke was so anxious to have the ceremony performed, that he would not wait till day, but was married with a ring of the bed curtain, at half-past twelve at night, in May Fair Chapel. The Countess of Coventry made herself memorable by the naïveté of her remark to George the Second. His Majesty asked her whether she liked masquerades? Her answer was, "That she did not; that she was tired of sights; and that the only one she wished to see was a coronation."

But this remark, which in any instance would have been the most terrible of blunders, passed off with the beauty and the wit as the most piquant of all pleasantries.

In the mean time, politics were in full glow in England. Wilkes's affairs had embroiled the King with the Minister, the Minister with the Parliament, and the Parliament with the nation. The annals of popular government, fertile as they are in folly, never exhibited in a stronger light the scandalous ease with which popularity may be obtained, common sense defied, and the national interests hazarded, where the appeal is made to the mob. Wilkes was a notorious profligate in every condition of life-in politics as well as in morals; despising the populace, he flattered them into insurrection; hating the Opposition,

he intrigued with them for power; scoffing at public delusion, he used it to the last. Still this culprit, for his recklessness amounted to many a crime, failed in obtaining his original object however he never rose above the rabble. Disappointed in all his hopes of personal ambition, he was glad to creep, at the close of his days, into a city sinecure-to have his jest, his dinner, and his pay, among the aldermen. He was compelled to see the Government which he had insulted still exist in defiance; the King whom he had vilified grow in national esteem as in years; and, while he himself sunk into an obscure and degenerate old age, his name degenerated into a national scoff, and his history quoted only as a warning against popular absurdity.

In one of Grattan's letters he mentions his having seen some of those signs of the time. "I shall only tell you that on Tuesday night Mr Wilkes went privately from prison; and that on last night the whole town was illuminated. Every thing was apprehended; but I have heard of nothing that has been done by the populace. There were many houses not illuminated, and they did not suffer. The night was more tranquil than those of his election."

He then speaks of the man who eclipsed all others of his day, and of whom Grattan seems never to have thought without wonder. " Lord Chatham's abilities are restored to their ancient reputation. His violence, I hear, is surprising. The Ministry call him mad; Opposition call him supernatural; and languid men call him rather outrageous."

When we recollect the extraordinary public activity which occupied Grattan's whole life from his entrance into Parliament, the eager interest with which he plunged into all the political storms, and the intense toil with which he must have conducted Opposition in the House of Commons for so many years of anxiety and even of personal hazard, we may be astonished at the listlessness and despondency of his mind in the most animated period of human life.

But it is not to be overlooked, that such feelings seem to have belonged to almost every man who has been destined to make a conspicuous figure in the larger movements of life. In