presented itself; scarcely a passenger was to be seen on the grassgrown pavements of a splendid city, famed but a little before for its prosperity and populousness. The shops were shut, the palaces deserted. The plague had raged for three months, and in that city alone, carried off forty-seven thousand persons, not far from five-sixths of the entire population. These are a few main particulars taken from his lordship's forcible and affecting narrative; to which he added some just remarks which show both a reflecting and observing turn of mind.

Such a state of things could not be very inviting, and the party did not linger in this place of gloom and desolation, but hastened their departure by Malta and Smyrna, towards the Dardanelles. His lordship did not fail to perform the usual pilgrimage of taste to the Troad, and reached Constantinople, where he continued for a month in his wonted way, conversing freely with every one, and inquiring curiously about everything worth knowing. While here, he attained his twenty-first year, which he celebrated by an ode after the ordinary manner of imitating Horace, which was, we believe, a fashion among the scholars of his day. Mr Hardy has printed it; it indicates an elegant taste, though not much more. Some of the stanzas are written with ease, simplicity and terseness; others are marked by forced construction; and none display anything beyond the trite reflections which the subject has never failed to present; yet, compared with the average poetry of his day, we cannot conclude that lord Charlemont might not, as a mere literary man, have stood far above mediocrity. Where there is clear common sense and correct taste-the eminent qualities of his lordship-it is hardly credible how ideas accumulate, and fresh power may be developed in any direction, up to a certain point; and this point we would fix, in general, by the highest level reached by the same individual in other attainments of a kindred kind. These birth-day verses are addressed to Richard Marlay, afterwards bishop of Waterford, and always one of lord Charlemont's most especial friends.

He remained at Constantinople for a month, and then embarked for Egypt, visiting, on his way, Lesbos, Chios, Mitylene, Delos, and Paros-niveamque Paron, sparsasque per aequor Cycladas-looking at everything with that tasteful enthusiasm which filled his mind, and was among its most remarkable features. From Paros he reached Alexandria, and remained long enough in Egypt to see all its principal objects of curiosity and wonder. He then set sail for Cyprus, but was driven so far westward by a succession of cross-winds, that he was compelled to change his intention, and anchor in Rhodes. From this, after much tossing about, and some delightful landings and excursions, he reached Athens. From Athens he made several excursions, of which he wrote interesting accounts in his most graphic and lively style. Among the various adventures which he met was a tremendous tempest, of which he has given a detailed account, too long for insertion here, but not inferior in truth and terror to any of the many similar descriptions which we can remember. It was a Levanter, which commenced at noon, increased all day, and at night grew furious beyond

description. They were ignorant of their position in that dreadful night, having been for many days unable to take any observation, and imagined themselves to be driving up the formidable gulf of the Adriatic. The tempest still increased, and with it all those incidents of terror and desperate precaution so calculated to shake the landsman's heart. Among other awful casualties the cannon broke loose, and, with the ballast, came with a tremendons crash to the leeside, which nearly lay upon the water. "If the whole world," says his lordship, "should, by sudden explosion, be rent asunder, I question whether the shock would be greater to each individual than what was now felt in our little world. Every heart quaked with fear, and horror appeared in every countenance. The ship, weighed down by the shifting of her ballast, &c., was unable to right herself, and lay gunwale under water, at the mercy of the billows. In this awful situation, the only resource appears to have been one which was so hazardous, that the captain, when he stated what it was, added, 'I am an old sailor, and should fear to attempt it. But it is our only means of safety, and if there be a fellow among you brave enough '—here he was instantly interrupted by Tom Sillers, I never shall forget his name-who stood next to him; this truly, and, I may add, philosophically brave fellow, taking from his cheek the plug of tobacco, cried out, by G-, master, if we must die, 'tis better to die doing something.' His words accompanied his action." The danger was thus postponed. Having retired to bed, after an hour's horrid uncertainty," the captain came to scare them with the information that "he feared all was over," and advised them to prepare for the worst. There was a momentary silence, which was singularly broken by an exclamation from Mr F. Burton,-" Well," exclaimed this gentleman, "and, I fear," writes lord Charlemont, "with an oath, this is fine indeed! Here have I been pampering this great body of mine for more than twenty years, and all to be a prey to some cursed shark, and be damned to him." The "unexpected oddity" of this exclamation, at such a time, afforded a moment's mirth, on which perhaps fear itself was willing to seize as a brief respite. The ship's carpenter next appeared with the friendly design to reassure them: but his consolation had in it a serious qualification. The ship was, he said, sound; but there was, indeed, "one rotten plank, and that a principal one: let that hold and we are all safe!” It may easily be conceived how, as the noble writer says, their fancy turned on the rotten plank all night. During this long and dreadful night all was anticipation of the most revolting and terrific nature, added to no slight bodily suffering and injury. "Yet still," writes his lordship, "we hoped the principle of religion was active in our souls, and despair fled before it. Wo to the wretch, who, in such a situation, is destitute of this comfort."

After much suffering, the sun rose, the wind fell, and the danger passed away. In a few hours more, land appeared; the joy was great, and this was still increased when they found that they had actually gained their intended port in the island of Malta. The quarantine of 40 days to which they were condemned, appeared as a trifle after such

danger so narrowly escaped. In ten days, however, they grew weary, and, petitioning the grand-master, had their probation shortened to 13 days more, at the end of which they landed.

"The town

At Malta, lord Charlemont was received with great and memorable consideration and civility; the established usages of the place were, in some respects set aside for the visitors. As an Irish peer he was received, according to etiquette, with his hat on. The grand-master, prohibited by usage from eating with them, joined the company when dinner was removed. Masked balls, long forbidden on account of the riots which they had occasioned, were renewed for their entertainment. In Malta, dissipation and luxury, and, consequently, vice of all descriptions were carried to the most extreme lengths. of Malta is one vast brothel," was the pithy and comprehensive description of his lordship. The military monks, having no occupation but to live, and, bound by their vows to celibacy, compensated themselves by the lowest depths and latitudes of profligacy. Debauched themselves, they debauched the island. "Every woman, almost, is a knight's mistress, and every mistress intrigues with other men. Hither flock, as to an established mart for beauty, the female votaries of Venus from every distant region—Armenians, Jewesses, Greeks, Italians." From such a scene it was, perhaps, no small relief once more to feel themselves upon the sea.

On his return to Italy lord Charlemont renewed his acquaintance with the Sardinian court, and was present at the marriage of the young prince, who particularly requested his attendance. He had by this time attained so complete a mastery of the Italian tongue, that the natural graces of his conversation were set off to the utmost advantage, and a large accession of distinguished friends was added to his circle. Having next passed some time at Verona-where he was much cultivated by the Marchese Scipione Maffei-he proceeded to Rome, where he continued to reside two years, and was, says Mr Hardy, one of the earliest examples, among the English, of keeping house there. His housekeeping was superintended by Mr Murphy, whose learning won for him golden opinions among the cicerones. The arts and their professors came in for a large share of his lordship's attention, and several deserving English and some Italian artists were indebted to his bounty. He was of much service to Sir William Chambers, whose means were then small, and his acquaintance few. We cannot here even enumerate the cardinals and distinguished noblemen of every rank and country with whom he made acquaintance. Among these were the duc de Nivernois, who was the French ambassador at Rome, and the marquis of Rockingham, both constant friends in after years. He was also treated with affectionate, and almost parental kindness, by the reigning pope, Benedict XIV.

After leaving Rome, he revisited Turin and Florence, and made a short excursion in Spain. He then travelled through France, where he met with the same kindness as in the former places. We cannot now afford more space to this portion of his history than a very brief notice of his visit to the celebrated Montesquieu. This, too, we must, with some regret, abridge. Not wishing to return home without meeting so eminent a man, lord Charlemont and his friend, a Mr Elliott, having

arrived at Bourdeaux, wrote a joint letter to the president, expressive of their desires, and received a kind invitation in reply. They reached his villa next morning before he was up, having breakfasted on the On entering his library they found Ovid's Elegies open on the table, and, in the midst of their speculations on this discovery, the president walked into the room, and presented a person quite different from their expectations-a "gay, polite, sprightly Frenchman." A walk was soon proposed to inspect the improvements of the villa, which its owner had laid out after the English style of landscape gardening. On this walk there occurred a characteristic scene, which we shall present in the noble author's own words. "Following him into the farm, we soon arrived at the skirts of a beautiful wood, cut into walks and paled round, the entrance to which was barricadoed with a moveable bar, about three feet high, fastened with a padlock. Come,' said he, searching in his pocket, 'it is not worth our while to wait for the key, you, I am sure, can leap as well as I can, and this shall not stop me." So saying he ran at the bar, and fairly jumped over it; while we followed him with amazement, though not without delight, to see the philosopher likely to become our playfellow. This behaviour had exactly the effect which he meant it should have. He had observed our awkward timidity at his first accosting us, and was determined to rid us of it." Among the incidents of the subsequent conversation, M. Montesquieu related a very singular trick which had, while he was in England, been played upon him by the duke of Montagu. "Only think of my first acquaintance with him, having invited me to his country seat before I had leisure to get into any sort of intimacy-he practised on me that singular trick which, undoubtedly, you have either experienced or heard of, under the idea of playing the play of introduction to ambassadors―he soused me over head and ears in a tub of cold water. I thought it odd, to be sure, but a traveller, as you well know, must take the world as it goes, &c." They remained for three days-on their return to Bourdeaux they were accompanied thither by the president's secretary, whom they had, till then, taken to be a Frenchman, but now, to their surprise, he for the first time addressed them in English, and turned out to be an Irishman. They had, whether by design or accident, been thus exposed to a snare which they were perhaps glad to have escaped; and it was with a momentary sensation of an anxious nature, that they endeavoured to recall the occasional remarks which they had exchanged under covert of a language which they thought only understood by themselves. Montesquieu was at this time in his seventieth year. In their subsequent meetings with him, at Bourdeaux, they were no less astonished at his sprightly command of that species of small talk which was then so acceptable to women, and to French women in particular, than at his previous display of senile agility. Lord Charlemont mentions several other interesting particulars, for which we must be content to refer to Mr Hardy. Immediately after these incidents M. Montesquieu fell ill and died.

In June, 1754, lord Charlemont returned to Ireland, having passed upwards of eight years in foreign travel. He was, at this time, in his twenty-sixth year, and had attained to the full maturity of his

character and understanding, under that course of education most suited to his frame of mind. Good sense, a fine and discriminating sagacity, exercised by habitual observation, and the knowledge of men and manners, as well as the tact and address which such a mind with such accomplishments is nearly sure to attain, may be enumerated among the main features of his character. These acquirements were under the command of a moral temper, as pure from taint, and as lofty and noble in all its tendencies, as perhaps has been, or will be, the lot of mere humanity. Endowed with the most refined intellectual tastes, and the most endearing social affections,—and, if ever the ambiguous virtue of patriotism was unmixed with the base alloy of corrupt and selfish motives, in the breast of a public man, it was in his. We thus distinctly state our view of his character, because, from the point of his history at which we are arrived, he is to occupy a very prominent place in the history of Ireland, during its most busy and interesting period. From this, our memoir is to be the historical narrative of the time in which he was a leading actor on the public scene.

On his return he was created LL.D.; appointed governor of the county of Armagh; and obtained a seat in the Irish privy council.

A slight account of the state of Ireland, at the outset of his political life, will be here advantageous to preserve the historical chain of our narrative.

From the last popular commotion in the time of Swift, to the period now before us, there was a dull and torpid interval of public tranquillity. The Irish administration had, by art, influence, and the subordinate methods of intrigue, by the management of the public purse, and by the dexterous adjustment and counterpoise of factious interests gained and preserved an uncontested ascendancy in every department of the legislature. Though this superiority was uninterrupted by any public or ostensible outbreak of party, it was yet not maintained without heavy cost, and unremitting, though under-hand exertion. The great heads of the Irish aristocracy were haughty, turbulent of mood, and conscious of their value; they were indispensable accessaries to the policy of the castle, to be bought or flattered into compliance as the case might require. The revenue of the country, raised to the utmost limit of exaction, afforded the main fund for the support of this influence, and was freely lavished in pensions, and other methods of gratuity, among the dependents of those whom it was necessary to conciliate.

Such resources would, nevertheless, have been insufficient, were there not a multitude of private interests and prejudices which weighed upon the same side. It cannot be denied, that the Irish aristocracy at this time had long felt that their own influence and authority were inextricably linked with the supremacy of the English party and government. And while they preferred and cherished a purely native tenantry, as by far the most submissive and profitable, yet it was as obvious an expediency to keep them in that state in which they were most subservient and open to extortion. Thus, on consideration, it will be apparent that there was a considerable mass of conflicting motives at work in the tendency of the time. The Irish people, scanty in number, poor, and, to the lowest degree unimproved, were the submissive and willing serfs and drudges of the soil. This statement ought, however,