their natural genius: none at all in their excessive vanity; and much again in their good faith. Roussean's warmth has made him act the madman in his philosophical inquiries, so that he oft saw not the mischief which he did: Hume's coldness made him not only see but rejoice in his. But it is neither parts nor logic that has made either of them philosophers, but Infidelity only. For which, to be sure, they both equally deserve a PENSION."—pp. 286, 257.

After all this, it can surprise us very little to hear him call Voltaire a scoundrel and a liar; and, in the bitterness of his heart, qualify Smollett by the name of "a vagabond Scot, who wrote nonsense,"-because people had bought ten thousand copies of his History, while the Divine Legation began to lie heavy on the shelves of his bookseller. It may be worth while, however, to see how this orthodox prelate speaks of the church, and of churchmen. The following short passage will give the reader some light upon the subject; and also serve to exemplify the bombastic adulation which the reverend correspondents interchanged with each other, and the coarse but robust wit by which Warburton was certainly distinguished.

"You were made for higher things: and my greatest pleasure is, that you give me a hint you are impatient to pursue them. What will not such a capacity and such a pen do, either to shame or to improve a miserable age! The church, like the Ark of Noah, is worth saving; not for the sake of the unclean beasts and vermin that almost filled it and probably made most noise and clamour in it, but for the little corner of rationality, that was as much distressed by the stink within, as by the tempest without."—pp. 83, 84.

In another place, he says, "I am serious upon it. I am afraid that both you and I shall outlive common sense, as well as learning, in our reverend brotherhood;" and afterwards complains, that he has laboured all his life to support the cause of the clergy, and been repaid with nothing but ingratitude. In the close of another letter on the same subject, he says, with a presumption, which the event has already made half ridiculous, and half melancholy, "Are not you and I finely employed? -but, Serimus arbores, alteri quæ seculo prosunt."

But these are only general expressions, arising, perhaps, from spleen or casual irritation. Let us inquire how he speaks of individuals. It would be enough, perhaps, to say, that except a Dr. Balguy, we do not remember of his saying any thing respectful of a single clergyman throughout the whole volume. The following is a pretty good specimen of the treatment which was reserved for such of them as dared to express their dissent from his paradoxes and fancies.

Now, this is not said in jest; but in fierce anger and resentment; and really affords as wonderful a picture of the temper and liberality of a Christian divine, as some of the disputes among the grammarians do of the irritability of a mere man of letters. The contempt, indeed, with which he speaks of his answerers, who were in general learned divines, is equally keen and cutting with that which he evinces towards Hume and Bolingbroke. He himself knew ten thousand faults in his work; but they have never found one of them. Nobody has ever answered him yet, but at their own expense; and some poor man whom he mentions "must share in the silent contempt with which I treat my answerers." This is his ordinary style in those playful and affectionate letters. Of known and celebrated individuals, he talks in the same tone of disgusting arrogance and animosity. Dr. Lowth. the learned and venerable Bishop of London, had occasion to complain of some misrepresentations in Warburton's writings, relating to the memory of his father; and, after some amicable correspondence, stated the matter to the public in a short and temperate pamphlet. Here is the manner in which he is treated for it in this Episcopal correspondence.

the purest spirit of friendship.
All you say about Lowth's pamphlet breathes
His wit and his
reasoning. God knows, and I also (as a certain critic
said once in a matter of the like great importance),
are much below the qualities that deserve those
names. But the strangest thing of all, is this man's
boldness in publishing my letters without my leave
or knowledge. I remember several long letters
passed between us. And I remember you saw the
that I am at a loss for the meaning of these words.
letters. But I have so totally forgot the contents,

In a word, you are right.-If he expected an answer, he will certainly find himself disappointed: though I believe I could make as good sport with this Devil of a vice, for the public diversion, as ever was made with him, in the old Moralities." pp. 273, 274.

Among the many able men who thought themselves called upon to expose his errors and fantasies, two of the most distinguished were Jortin and Leland. Dr. Jortin had objected to Warburton's theory of the Sixth Æneid; and Dr. Leland to his notion of the Eloquence of the Evangelists; and both with great respect and moderation. Warburton would not, or could not answer;-but his faithful esquire was at hand; and two anonymous pamphlets, from the pen of Dr. Richard Hurd, were sent forth, to extol Warburton, and his paradoxes, beyond the level of a mortal; to accuse Jortin of envy, and to convict Leland of ignorance and error. Leland answered for himself; and, in the opinion of "What could make that important blockhead all the world, completely demolished his an(you know whom) preach against me at St. James'? tagonist. Jortin contented himself with laughHe never met me at Court, or at Powis or New-ing at the weak and elaborate irony of the castle-House. And what was it to him, whether the Jews had a future life? It might be well for such as him, if the Christians had none neither!Nor, I dare say, does he much trouble himself about the matter, while he stands foremost, amongst you, in the new Land of Promise; which, however, to the mortification of these modern Jews, is a little distant from that of performance."-p. 65. 87

Bishop's anonymous champion, and with wondering at his talent for perversion. Hurd never owned either of these malignant pamphlets;

and in the life of his friend, no notice whatever was taken of this inglorious controversy. What would have been better forgotten, however, for their joint reputation, is injudiciously 3 H 2

brought back to notice in the volume now being, than the immediate prospect of this fore us; and Warburton is proved by his learned man's death, who had once been his letters to have entered fully into all the paltry friend, that he gives vent to this liberal imkeenness of his correspondent, and to have putation. indulged a feeling of the most rancorous hostility towards both these excellent and accomplished men. In one of his letters he says, I will not tell you how much I am obliged to you for this correction of Leland. I have desired Colonel Harvey to get it reprinted in Dublin, which I think but a proper return for Leland's favour in London." We hear nothing more, however, on this subject, after the publication of Dr. Leland's reply.

With regard to Jortin, again, he says, "Next to the pleasure of seeing myself so finely praised, is the satisfaction I take in seeing Jortin mortified. I know to what degree it will do it; and he deserves to be mortified. One thing I in good earnest resented for its baseness," &c. In another place, he talks of his "mean, low, and ungrateful conduct;" and adds, "Jortin is as vain as he is dirty, to imagine that I am obliged to him," &c. And, after a good deal more about his "mean, low envy," "the rancour of his heart," his "selfimportance," and other good qualities, he speaks in this way of his death

'Had he had, I will not say piety, but greatness of mind enough not to suffer the pretended injuries of some churchmen to prejudice him against religion, I should love him living, and honour his memory when dead. But, good God! that man, for the discourtesies done him by his miserable fellow-creatures, should be content to divest himself of the true viaticum, the comfort, the solace, the asylum, &c. &c. is perfectly astonishing. I believe no one (all things considered) has suffered more from the low and vile passions of the high and low amongst our brethren than myself. Yet, God forbid, &c.”—pp. 40, 41.

When divines of the Church of England are spoken of in this manner, it may be supposed that Dissenters and Laymen do not meet with any better treatment. Priestley, accordingly, is called "a wretched fellow; and Dr. Samuel Johnson, who, in spite of considerable temptations to the contrary, had spoken with great respect of him, both in his preface to Shakespeare and in his notes, is thus rewarded by the meek and modest ecclesiastic for his forbearance.

The remarks he makes in every page on my "I see by the papers that Jortin is dead. His commentaries, are full of insolence and malignant overrating his abilities, and the public's underra- reflections, which, had they not in them as much ting them, made so gloomy a temper cat, as the an- folly as malignity, I should have had reason to be cients expressed it, his own heart. If his death dis offended with. As it is, I think myself obliged to tresses his own family, I shall be heartily sorry for him in thus setting before the public so many of this accident of mortality. If not, there is no loss-my notes with his remarks upon them; for, though even to himself!"-p. 340.

I have no great opinion of that trifling part of the
public, which pretends to judge of this part of
literature, in which boys and girls decide, yet I
think nobody can be mistaken in this comparison;
though I think their thoughts have never yet ex-
tended thus far as to reflect, that to discover the
gacity to restore it to sense, is no easy task: But
corruption in an author's text, and by a happy sa-
when the discovery is made, then to cavil at the
conjecture, to propose an equivalent, and defend

it occasions, a weak and faint glimmering of sense
(which has been the business of this Editor through-
efforts."-pp. 272, 273.
out) is the easiest, as well as dullest of all literary

That the reader may judge how far controversial rancour has here distorted the features of an adversary, we add part of an admirable character of Dr. Jortin, drawn by one who had good occasion to know him, as it appeared in a work in which keenness, candour, and erudition are very singularly blended. "He had a heart which never dis-nonsense, by producing, out of the thick darkness graced the powers of his understanding. With a lively imagination and an elegant taste, he united the artless and amiable negligence of a schoolboy. Wit without ill-nature, and sense without effort, he could, at will, scatter on every subject; and, in every book, the writer presents us with a near and distinct view of the man. He had too much discernment to confound difference of opinion with malignity or dulness; and too much candour to insult, where he could not persuade. He carried with him into every subject which he explored, a solid greatness of soul, which could spare an inferior, though in the offensive form of an adversary, and endure an equal, with or without the sacred name of a friend."*

Dr. Middleton, too, had happened to differ from some of Warburton's opinions on the origin of Popish ceremonies; and accordingly he is very charitably represented as having renounced his religion in a pet, on account of the discourtesy of his brethren in the church. It is on an occasion no less serious and touch

It is irksome transcribing more of these insolent and vindictive personalities; and we believe we have already extracted enough, to satisfy our readers as to the probable effect of this publication, in giving the world a just impression of the amiable, playful, and af fectionate character of this learned prelate. It is scarcely necessary, for this purpose, to refer to any of his pathetic lamentations over his own age, as a "barbarous age," an "impious age," and "a dark age,"to quote his murmurs at the ingratitude with which his own labours had been rewarded,—or, indeed, to do more than transcribe his sage and magnanimous resolution, in the year 1768, to begin to live for himself-having already lived for others longer than they had deserved of him." This worthy and philanthropic person had by this time preached and written himself into a bishopric and a fine estate; and, at the same time, indulged himself in every sort of violence and scurrility against those from whose opinions he dissented. In these

circumstances, we really are not aware either | ready to run back naked to the deserts, as on the

enormous vice afford a fine field for the historian's genius. And hence Livy and Tacitus are, in their way, perhaps equally entertaining. But the little intrigues of a selfish court, about carrying, or defeating this or that measure, about displacing this and bringing in that minister, which interest nobody very much but the parties concerned, can hardly be made very striking by any ability of the relator. If Cardinal de Retz has succeeded, his scene was busier, and of a another nature from that of Lord Clarendon."-p. 217.

His account of Tillotson seems also to be me; and, as the ceasing of intense pain, so this fair and judicious.

Mrs. Warburton's last letter was a cordial to abatement of the fears I have been tormented with for three or four days past, gives a certain alacrity to my spirits, of which your Lordship may look to feel the effects, in a long letter!

"As to the Archbishop, he was certainly a virtuous, pious, humane, and moderate man; which last quality was a kind of rarity in those times. I think "And now, supposing, as I trust I may do, that the sermons published in his lifetime, are fine your Lordship will be in no great pain when you moral discourses. They bear, indeed, the charac- receive this letter, I am tempted to begin, as friends ter of their author,-simple, elegant, candid, clear, usually do when such accidents befal, with my and rational. No orator, in the Greek and Roman reprehensions, rather than condolence. I have often sense of the word, like Taylor; nor a discourser, wondered why your Lordship should not use a cane in their sense, like Barrow;-free from their ir-in your walks! which might haply have prevented regularities, but not able to reach their heights; on this misfortune! especially considering that Heawhich account, I prefer them infinitely to him. ven, I suppose the better to keep its sons in some You cannot sleep with Taylor; you cannot forbear sort of equality, has thought fit to make your outthinking with Barrow; but you may be much at ward sight by many degrees less perfect than your your ease in the midst of a long lecture from Til- inward. Even I, a young and stout son of the lotson, clear, and rational, and equable as he is. church, rarely trust my firm steps into my garden, Perhaps the last quality may account for it." without some support of this kind! How improvi dent, then, was it in a father of the church to commit his unsteadfast footing to this hazard!" &c.

pp. 93, 94. The following observations on the conduct of the comic drama were thrown out for Mr. Hurd's use, while composing his treatise. We think they deserve to be quoted, for their clearness and justness:

"As those intricate Spanish plots have been in use, and have taken both with us and some French writers for the stage, and have much hindered the main end of Comedy, would it not be worth while to give them a word, as it would tend to the further illustration of your subject? On which you might observe, that when these unnatural plots are used, the mind is not only entirely drawn off from the characters by those surprising turns and revolutions, but characters have no opportunity even of being called out and displaying themselves; for the actors of all characters succeed and are embarrassed alike, when the instruments for carrying on designs are only perplexed apartments, dark entries, disguised habits, and ladders of ropes. The comic plot is, and must indeed be, carried on by deceit. The Spanish scene does it by deceiving the man through his senses;-Terence and Moliere, by deceiving him through his passions and affections. And this is the right way; for the character is not called out under the first species of deceit,-under the second, the character does all."―p. 57.

p. 251.

There are many pages written with the same vigour of sentiment and expression, and in the same tone of manly independence.

We have little more to say of this curious volume. Like all Warburton's writings, it bears marks of a powerful understanding and an active fancy. As a memorial of his personal character, it must be allowed to be at least faithful and impartial; for it makes us acquainted with his faults at least, as distinctly as with his excellences; and gives, indeed, the most conspicuous place to the former. It has few of the charms, however, of a collection of letters;-no anecdotes-no traits of simplicity or artless affection;-nothing of the softness, grace, or negligence of Cowper's correspondence and little of the lightness or the elegant prattlement of Pope's or Lady Mary Wortley's. The writers always appear busy, and even laborious persons, and persons who hate many people, and despise many more.-But they neither appear very happy, nor very amiable; and, at the end of the There are a few of Bishop Hurd's own let-book, have excited no other interest in the ters in this collection; and as we suppose they reader, than as the authors of their respective were selected with a view to do honour to his publications.

(November, 1811.)

Memoirs of the Political and Private Life of James Caulfield, Earl of Charlemont, Knight of St. Patrick, &c. &c. By FRANCIS HARDY, Esq., Member of the House of Commons in the three last Parliaments of Ireland. 4to. pp. 426. London: 1810.*

with anxious and uninteresting details, and, at another, omitting even such general and summary notices of the progress of events as are necessary to connect his occasional narratives and reflections.

THIS is the life of a Gentleman, written by a Gentleman,-and, considering the tenor of many of our late biographies, this of itself is no slight recommendation. But it is, moreover, the life of one who stood foremost in the political history of Ireland for fifty years The most conspicuous and extraordinary preceding her Union,-that is, for the whole of his irregularities, however, is that of his period during which Ireland had a history or style-which touches upon all the extremes politics of her own-written by one who was of composition, almost in every page, or every a witness and a sharer in the scene, a man paragraph;—or rather, is entirely made up of of fair talents and liberal views,—and distin- those extremes, without ever resting for an guished, beyond all writers on recent politics instant in a medium, or affording any pause that we have yet met with, for the handsome for softening the effects of its contrasts and and indulgent terms in which he speaks of transitions. Sometimes, and indeed most frehis political opponents. The work is enliven- quently, it is familiar, loose, and colloquial, ed, too, with various anecdotes and fragments beyond the common pitch of serious converof the correspondence of persons eminent for sation; at other times by far too figurative, talents, learning, and political services in both rhetorical, and ambitious, for the sober tone countries; and with a great number of char- of history. The whole work indeed bears acters, sketched with a very powerful, though more resemblance to the animated and versomewhat too favourable hand, of almost all satile talk of a man of generous feelings and who distinguished themselves, during this mo- excitable imagination, than the mature promentous period, on the scene of Irish affairs. duction of an author who had diligently corFrom what we have now said, the reader rected his manuscript for the press, with the will conclude that we think very favourably fear of the public before his eyes. There is of this book: And we do think it both enter- a spirit about the work, however,―independtaining and instructive. But (for there is ent of the spirit of candour and indulgence of always a but in a Reviewer's praises) it has which we have already spoken,-which realso its faults and imperfections; and these, deems many of its faults; and, looking upon alas! so great and so many, that it requires it in the light of a memoir by an intelligent all the good nature we can catch by sympathy contemporary, rather than a regular history or from the author, not to treat him now and profound dissertation, we think that its value then with a terrible and exemplary severity. will not be injured by a comparison with any He seems, in the first place, to have begun work of this description that has been recently and ended his book, without ever forming an offered to the public. idea of the distinction between private and public history; and sometimes tells us stories about Lord Charlemont, and about people who were merely among his accidental acquaintance, far too long to find a place even in a biographical memoir;-and sometimes enlarges upon matters of general history, with which Lord Charlemont has no other connection, than that they happened during his life, with a minuteness which would not be tolerated in a professed annalist. The biography again is broken, not only by large patches of historical matter, but by miscellaneous reflections, and anecdotes of all manner of persons; while, in the historical part, he successively makes the most unreasonable presumptions on the reader's knowledge, his ignorance, and his curiosity,-overlaying him, at one time,

The part of the work which relates to Lord Charlemont individually, though by no means the least interesting, at least in its adjuncts and digressions,—may be digested into a short summary. He was born in Ireland in 1728; and received a private education, under a succession of preceptors, of various merit and assiduity. In 1746 he went abroad, without having been either at a public school or an university; and yet appears to have been earlier distinguished, both for scholarship and polite manners, than most of the ingenuous youths that are turned out by these celebrated seminaries. He remained on the Continent no less than nine years; in the course of which, he extended his travels to Greece, Turkey, and Egypt; and formed an intimate and friendly acquaintance with the celebrated David Hume, whom he met both at Turin and Paris-the President Montesquieu-the Marchese Maffei--Cardinal Albani —-Lord Rockingham—the Duc de Nivernoisand various other eminent persons. He had rather a dislike to the French national character; though he admired their literature, and the general politeness of their manners.