to his star; he had rarely succeeded in any of his public measures. "His failure in America had deprived England of her colonies and her army of its reputation; his catastrophe at York-Town gave a shock to the King's mind, from which it is supposed he never entirely recovered. In India he defeated Tippoo Saib, but concluded a peace which only increased the necessity of future wars. Weary of the sword, he was sent as a diplomatist to conclude the peace of Amiens; but, out-manœuvred by Lucien Bonaparte, his lordship's treaty in volved all Europe in a war against England. He had thought to conciliate Lucien by complimenting the first consul, and sacrificed his sovereign's honorary title as King of France, which had been borne since the conquests of the Edwards and the Henrys, while he retained the title of Defender of the Faith, corruptly bestowed by a pope on a tyrant."

Such is the sketch given by a political enemy, in which the failures of the soldier and the statesman are prominently set forward; but justice to the memory of Lord Cornwallis demands a notice of more extended compass, than one which tells only when a distinguished man has been politically unsuccessful. In both diplomacy and war the viceroy's talents, if not brilliant, were respectable-his character was firm and upright-and he assumed the Irish government, no doubt, to effect a union of the kingdoms, and restore tranquillity to the country. In the ulterior advantages which should result from this important measure, Lord Cornwallis was a sincere believer, and therefore, in carrying out the great object of that ministry which had sent him to Ireland, he felt assured that he was consulting the best interests of the country intrusted to his government.* In his acts, consequently, he was honest. The bent of his disposition was merciful, and many instances of his humanity might be enumerated; while others, less conciliatory, and consequently every thing but popular, emanated from

* "Such was the state of misery the country was reduced to when the Marquis Cornwallis arrived. He saw the danger, and lost no time in pursuing the only means which could avert it. Conceiving that this important end might be better accomplished by a mild system of conciliation than by severity, he employed the former, not only as being more advantageous to the country, but because it was in unison with his own feelings. He ordered the prisons to be thrown open, and liberated those who had long been the tenants of their noisome and gloomy dungeons. The naked sufferer was no longer tortured, nor was the eye shocked with reiterated executions, which had become so frequent that they had lost all their horror. Spies and informers, like birds of prey, ceased to haunt the castle-the messengers of peace had taken their places. Confidence was substituted for suspicion; the grateful feelings of those, who, although guilty, experienced a lenity which they did not expect, spread its beneficial influence throughout the deluded and fermented multitude; hope was revived, and the public agitation gradually subsided. The altar of mercy, which had been so wantonly overturned, was again erected. Instead of exercising the rigour of the law, and consigning the rebel chiefs to an ignominious death, a punishment the worse effects of which would have extended to their innocent relations, the marquis consented that they should be permitted to leave the country. The reign of terror was at an end, because the Government recovered its respectability, and acted as arbiter of the dispute.' Wakefield.

men who indirectly influenced his counsels, and not unfrequently sub jected his government to charges of severity and despotism.

The second in rank, but certainly infinitely first in power, was John Earl of Clare, Lord Chancellor of Ireland. The character drawn by Barrington of this celebrated statesman is powerfully and faithfully sketched.

Although the name of this singular personage was aristocratic, his origin was very humble. His grandfather was a small farmer, and nis father educated for holy orders, but, possessing a mind superior to the habits of monkish seclusion, procured himself to be called to the Irish Bar, where his talents raised him to the highest estimation, and finally established him in fame and fortune.

John Fitzgibbon, the second son of this man, was called to the Bar in 1772. Naturally dissipated, he for some time attended but little to the duties of his profession; but, on the death of his elder brother and his father, he found himself in possession of all those advantages which led him rapidly forward to the extremity of his objects. Considerable fortune, professional talents, extensive connections, and undismayed confidence, elevated him to those stations, on which he afterwards appeared so conspicuously; while the historic eye, as it follows his career, perceives him lightly bounding over every obstacle which checked his course to that goal where all the trophies and thorns of power were collected for his reception.

In the Earl of Clare we find a man eminently gifted with talents adapted either for a blessing or a curse to the nation he inhabited; but early enveloped in high and dazzling authority, he lost his way, and considering his power as a victory, he ruled his country as a conquest; indiscriminate in his friendships, and implacable in his animosities, he carried to the grave all the passions of his childhood.

He hated powerful talents, because he feared them; and trampled on modest merit, because it was incapable of resistance. Authoritative and peremptory in his address-commanding, able, and arrogant in his language a daring contempt for public opinion was the fatal principle which misguided his conduct; and Ireland became divided between the friends of his patronage, the slaves of his power, and the enemies to his tyranny.

His character had no medium, his manners no mediocrity-the example of his extremes was adopted by his intimates, and excited in those who knew him feelings either of warm attachment, or of rivetted

aversion.

While he held the seals in Ireland, he united a vigorous capacity with the most striking errors. As a judge, he collected facts with a rapid precision, and decided on them with a prompt asperity; but he hated precedent, and despised the highest judicial authorities, because they were not his own.

As a politician and a statesman, the character of Lord Clare is well known. To council rapid, peremptory, and overbearing-he regarded ecution rather than discretion of arrangement, and

prom

piqued himself more on expertness of thought than sobriety of judgment. Through all the calamities of Ireland, the mild voice of conciliation never escaped his lips; and when the torrent of civil war had subsided in his country, he held out no olive to shew that the deluge had receded.

Acting upon a conviction, that his power was but co-existent with the order of public establishments, and the tenure of his office limited to the continuance of administration, he supported both with less prudence and more desperation than sound policy or an enlightened mind should permit or dictate. His extravagant doctrines of religious intolerance created the most mischievous pretexts for his intemperance in upholding them; and, under colour of defending the principles of one revolution, he had nearly plunged the nation into all the miseries of

another.

His political conduct has been accounted uniform, but in detail it will be found to have been miserably inconsistent. In 1781 he took up arms to obtain a declaration of Irish independence; in 1800 he recommended the introduction of a military force to assist in its extinguishment; he proclaimed Ireland a free nation in 1783, and argued that it should be a province in 1799; in 1782 he called the acts of the British legislature towards Ireland, "a daring usurpation on the rights of a free people;" and in 1800 he transferred Ireland to the usurper. On all occasions his ambition as despotically governed his politics as his reason invariably sunk before his prejudice.

Though he intrinsically hated a legislative union, his lust for power induced him to support it; the preservation of office overcame the impulse of conviction, and he strenuously supported that measure, after having openly avowed himself its enemy; its completion, however, blasted his hopes and hastened his dissolution. The restlessness of his habit, and the obtrusiveness of his disposition, became insupportably embarrassing to the British cabinet-the danger of his talents as a minister, and the inadequacy of his judgment as a statesman, had been proved in Ireland. He had been a useful instrument in that country, but the same line of services which he performed in Ireland would have proved ruinous to Great Britain, and Lord Clare was no longer consulted.

The union at length effected, through his friends, what Ireland could never accomplish through his enemies-his total overthrow. Unaccustomed to control, and unable to submit, he returned to his country, weary, drooping, and disappointed; regretting what he had done, yet miserable that he could do no more: his importance had expired with the Irish parliament-his patronage ceased to supply food for his ambition-the mind and the body became too sympathetic for existence, and he sunk into the grave, a conspicuous example of human talent and human frailty.

In his person he was about the middle size-slight, and not gracefulhis eyes large, dark, and penetrating, betrayed some of the boldest traits of his uncommon character-his countenance, though expressi,

and manly, yet discovered nothing which could deceive the physiognomist into an opinion of his magnanimity, or call forth an eulogium on his virtues.

Of Lord Castlereagh it will only be necessary to remark, that the bold and statesman-like career which opened with the Irish Union was more amply developed in the progress of his after-life. His public character has long been before the world, and undergone praise and censure, according to the party feelings of those who were its examiners. In private life, Lord Londonderry was admired and beloved; and even from political opponents his brilliant talents and personal intrepidity commanded an unqualified respect.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

VENALITY OF THE IRISH PARLIAMENT-CORRUPTION OF ITS MEMBERS-PRO. GRESS OF THE DEBATE-IMPORTANT DIVISION ANECDOTES.

WE mentioned in the preceding chapter the general result of the opening debate upon the Union, and alluded to the closeness of the division. Were it necessary to establish the disgusting venality of the Irish representatives, two disgraceful episodes attendant on that memorable debate, will prove how utterly useless to the country was the home representation from which she was about to be delivered. The secession of Mr. Trench, and the indecisive position in which Mr. Fox found himself, led to two of the most extraordinary scenes of parliamentary corruption which have ever been witnessed or recorded.

Premising, that after a violent debate of twenty hours, it seemed probable that government might be left in a minority, the following singular occurrences took place, damnatory of the most corrupt body which ever had existence. The anecdotes are narrated by one of the most ardent admirers of native administration-and we will give them in the words of a personal witness-a member of the house at the time.*

"It was suspected that Mr. Trench had been long in negotiation with Lord Castlereagh, but it did not in the early part of that night appear to have been brought to any conclusion-his conditions were supposed to be too extravagant. Mr. Trench, after some preliminary observations, declared, in a speech, that he would vote against the minister, and support Mr. Ponsonby's amendment. This appeared a stunning blow to Mr. Cooke, who had been previously in conversation with Mr. Trench. He was immediately observed sideling from his seat, nearer to Lord Castlereagh. They whispered earnestly, and, as if restless and undecided, both looked wistfully towards Mr. Trench.At length the matter seemed to be determined on. Mr. Cooke retired to a back seat, and was obviously endeavouring to count the houseprobably to guess if they could that night dispense with Mr. Trench's services. He returned to Lord Castlereagh-they whispered-again looked most affectionately at Mr. Trench, who seemed unconscious that he was the subject of their consideration. But there was no time to lose the question was approaching-all shame was banished-they decided on the terms, and a significant and certain glance, obvious to every body, convinced Mr. Trench that his conditions were agreed to. Mr. Cooke then went and sat down by his side; an earnest but very short conversation took place; a parting smile completely told the house that Mr. Trench was that moment satisfied. These surmises

* Sir Jonah Barrington.