Hall, and threw down the gauntlet to that ingenious divine. Doctor Magee did not at all relish the proposal, and endeavoured to escape from him; but the relentless logician pursued the doctor with a torrent of strange gibberish, until he was compelled to apply to one of the beef-eaters to interpose between him and this inveterate disciple of the stagyrite. At length Lord Wellesley arrived with all his suite, and his appearance was full of imposing effect. The day was advanced into evening, and little of its beams broke through the windows of the lofty and expansive room in which a great concourse had assembled. The crimson curtains of the throne, which had been raised for the King during his visit, were illuminated by broad and brilliant lights, and threw a rich and gorgeous tone over the scene. The splendid dresses of the persons in immediate waiting upon the Lord Lieutenant, filled the depth of the back-ground with gold and silver, and before him stood a vast and breathless mass of men which reached to the op posite extremity of the hall. Lord Wellesley was before the throne, and, while the Lord Mayor read the address, I had full opportunity to observe him. With a person almost diminutive, he had, notwithstanding, a most dignified deportment. I never saw a finer head. It realized the "beau ideal" of all that I had previously conceived requisite for the physiognomy of a statesman. His fixed and illuminated eyes-his lofty and vaulted forehead, sprinkled with a few white hairs, his bold and commanding mouth, and the aspiring and eaglelike expression of soul which pervaded his countenance, struck me with admiration. I had heard that his body had been wasted by time and pleasure, but he appeared in perfect health and vigour. In place of the emaciation which I had anticipated, and that pale cast of thought which we associate with legislative cares, his face was fresh and almost ruddy. "The pure and eloquent blood spoke in his cheeks." While the address was reading, I could perceive a deep and generous emotion about him, and forgave him at once for all the egotism which in his printed speeches had startled my sense of propriety, but which was mitigated, if not completely justified, by its companionship with so much nobleness and elevation as were associated with his aspect. When the Lord Mayor had concluded, there was a long pause, and for some moments Lord Wellesley remained silent. But "his look drew audience." At length his mind broke out in high, piercing, and measured accents, which were fraught with strong and exalted sentiment, and attended with an intenser excitation than I remem ber ever to have witnessed in a popular assembly. His intonations were perfect: they were not subdued by the cold rules of diplomatic etiquette, but ascended into fine and impassioned oratory.-His whole frame seemed agitated and inspired. His person seemed to have lost the pettiness of its dimensions, and to have been heightened by the informing spirit. The enthusiasm which was produced, burst through the restraints of strict propriety; and almost every sentence was cheered by repeated acclamation. I feared that this unusual expression of the public feeling would have alarmed his sense of decorum ; but, in place of disturbing him in his course, he appeared to derive a new fervor from the cordial applause which he received. In one instance, however, he fell into exaggeration, which, redeemed as it was by his admirable delivery, did not at first surprise his hearers, but was afterwards observed upon. He said that he had attained such a high

pitch of happiness, that he could scarcely hope for the recurrence of so much felicity; and that "if the poniard were lifted against his bosom, he would bid the assassin strike." This somewhat melodramatic sentiment was delivered very much in the manner of Kean, and both in conception and enunciation certainly savoured of "The Boulevards." But, altogether, the speech, with a few of such imperfections, was a piece of noble, and, I believe, of sincere eloquence. The meeting dispersed with an unqualified feeling of admiration for the nobleman who had given so fine an utterance to his generous sentiments, and expressed so genuine and so rare an affection for his country. Lord Wellesley's reply added to the exasperation of the Orange party; and the events which succeeded, raised it to its height. The grand jury, composed in a great degree of affiliated Orangemen, threw out the bills of indictment tendered by the Crown against the perpetrators of the outrage at the Theatre. Mr. Plunket announced his resolution to proceed by ex officio information; and a day was appointed for a trial at the bar. The most anxious suspense awaited its arrival. A deep pulsation throbbed through the city. The ordinary occupations of life appeared to be laid aside in the agitating expectation of the event which was to set a seal upon the future government of Ireland. It engrossed the thoughts and tongues of men, and exercised a painful monopoly of all their hopes and anticipations. At length the day of trial appeared amidst the heaviness of a grey and sombre morning. It was announced beforehand, that the judges would take their seats precisely at nine o'clock; the doors of the court to be opened at half-past seven. The earli ness of the hour, immaterial as it may seem, had the effect of throwing society out of its ordinary habits. Whiskey-punch, and early rising, are sworn foes. The citizens of Dublin are much fonder of putting on their nightcaps than their morning dress at cock-crowing. But on this occasion all accustomed comforts were nobly sacrificed. Politicians of every class and mind,-corporators, beef-eaters, catholic, Orange, liberal and radical,-all bravely started up at half-past six to exchange the soothing glories of a tipsy dream, for the raw encounter of the cold realities of a winter morning. I reached the hall of the Four Courts about eight o'clock, but had the mortification to find that I was too late. The Orangemen, true to their principle of making a push on every occasion for the Protestant ascendency, were in the field before me. As soon as the doors were opened, one tremendous rush filled in an instant the galleries and every avenue of the court. However, I remembered the Irish saying, that with patience and perseverance a man may open an oyster with a rolling-pin. I acted upon this doctrine, and by dint of shoving and insinuation, contrived, after a full hour's hard work, to attain a place in one of the dark side-lobbies of the court, from which, by standing on tiptoe, I could catch a view of what was going on within. Even this I could achieve only through one small aperture; and the effect was as if I had been looking at some gorgeous spectacle through the eye-hole of a rareeshow-box. The proceedings had not yet commenced, and I had time to examine in detail the silent scene. There was not a murmur in the court; but the first glance at the auditory would have satisfied you that deep passions were working there, and could not long be hushed. The signs of this were most apparent in the galleries. You saw it in the scowling brows

of the Orange partisans and few else were there ;-in the compressed lip-in the roll of ferocious confidence with which their eyes went round the scene that reminded them of their strength-in the glare of factious recognition with which they greeted the accused, and assured them of a triumph. My eye next rested upon the crowded benches of the bar. They, too, betrayed a consciousness of being themselves upon their trial. Instead of the legal nonchalance with which they usually await the coming on of the most important cause, they now presented a series of countenances quivering with political resentment. Of all the classes in the community, this body had felt perhaps the most intensely the late determination to control the pretensions of the Protestant ascendency; for with them all prescriptive privileges had been most complete and undisputed. It was easy to trace their emotions in their looks,—in the fixed and deadly sneer-in the flush of haughty indignation-in the impassioned gestures, with which, in whispers among themselves, they arraigned the whole proceeding, and foretold the disasters it would bring upon the land. The sentiment of alarm and exasperation extended to many who had heretofore been regarded by others, and by themselves, as free from the taint of party; but in the heat of the times, their countenances (like their native marble when brought near the fire) had broken out in spots and stains which had hitherto lain concealed beneath the surface. As I looked round upon this scene of prejudice and anger, the first question that pressed upon me was, whether the present was an occasion upon which impartial justice could be expected ;-whether in such an audience a jury could be found (for the panel was dispersed through the galleries) who could shake off the passions of even that single morning, and remember nothing but the evidence and their oaths. I could not venture to pronounce in the affirmative. Still it was quite refreshing to perceive, that in despite of every obstacle that faction could interpose, the cause of justice had one great and certain stay. When I turned to the bench and witnessed the steadfast and cheerful dignity of the judges, I felt assured that in that quarter the public interests were secure. The appearance, and the respective characters of the men, forced this cheering conviction upon the mind. There was Bushe, pledged by his whole life against the cause of religious persecution, and too strong and proud to be panic-struck. Burton, a gift to Ireland, from a country where law is sacred-cautious, sagacious, and enlightened-vigorous and independent at all times, and "best when provoked." Jebb and Vandeleurgentle and efficient in the discharge of their ordinary functions-as yet untried upon any great occasion, but sure to be firm and upright upon an emergency. It seems fated that in this tragicomic nation, however a public proceeding may terminate, it should not pass away without many a hearty laugh. In the present instance, the business of the day opened with a joke. Mr. Plunket rose "to call the attention of the court to a matter of some importance :"-a dead silence prevailed. The Attorney-General proceeded with much gravity to state," that he had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of his colleagues, the SolicitorGeneral and Mr. Sergeant Lefroy; and that, after a long search for them in all directions, it had been just discovered that they were both in one of the avenues of the court, firmly wedged in among the popu

lace, with a prospect of immediate suffocation, unless their lordships should be pleased to interfere in their behalf!" The political tenets of the two learned sufferers were well known; and the most bigoted Orangeman in the galleries could not refrain from a loud giggle at the notion of two such personages writhing under the horrors of a popular embrace. The Chief Justice contrived to draw the veil of judicial gravity over the rising smile, while he gave the necessary orders; and Mr. Sheriff Thorpe, with the most heroical alertness, rushed out of court, breathing from his looks the determination to employ all the powers vested in his Lilliputian person by the constitution, to rescue his friends from so novel a situation. He soon returned triumphantly, producing the two learned bodies in proof of what his civil prowess could achieve; and the proceedings of the day were no longer deferred. The proceedings of this singular trial are now before the public; I take it for granted you have read them-if you have not, they are far too voluminous for me to detail; nor will my limits permit me to offer any thing in the way of minute criticism upon the specimens of Irish oratory elicited upon this occasion. Mr. Plunket's speech was on a level with his subject, but scarcely with himself. The Solicitor-General's was tame and technical: he felt too much sympathy with Orange principles, and he openly avowed them, to prove a formidable denouncer of Orange excesses. Mr. North's address was the most applauded; but had I space, I should hardly think it fair to forestall the ingenious author of the Bar sketches, by whom Mr. North's admirers expect to see him presented, ere long, in vivid colours to the public. By the way, it was whispered about, during the present trial, that this forensic portrait-painter, respecting whom much grave conjecture has been afloat here, was actually in attendance; and no other than a lady of rank-Lady R-(not the Dowager of the name, who was resuscitated at eighty-six to give evidence upon this trial, and who looked like Erichtho, filled with the re-animating spirit of faction.) The fair reporteress daily occupied a prominent situation in the gallery, where her Scotch physiognomy was contrasted with the Cromwellian visages that glared about her. She held a silver pen, that was pressed occasionally against her lips, while her eyes gleamed with the most intense anxiety for the fate of the prisoners, with whom she seemed to participate in emotion; and the instant the least circumstance was mentioned at all favourable to them, her white hand darted to the paper before her, on which she scrawled, with an agitating velocity, for a moment, and then assumed her attitude of restless vigilance again. This "recording angel," the only person of her sex in the gallery, pressed and jammed collaterally, and a posteriore, by the incumbent mass of low Orangemen among whom she was stowed, struck me as one of the most singular features in this strange and fantastic scene. The final result of the trial was what many had anticipated; and under the peculiar circumstances of this distracted province, it was perhaps the most fortunate that could have occurred. The Orangemen fondly counted upon a verdict of acquittal to the last. Their sympathy never flagged for an instant. During each succeeding day of the proceedings they were the first to fill the court; and the space outside was regularly occupied by a phalanx of them in close columns, where they remained from nine to six, insensible of fatigue, with outstretched necks,

to catch a rumour of what was going on within; and communing in muttered curses with each other, as often as the report was wafted to them, that the prophane hand of the Attorney-General was farther withdrawing the veil which had heretofore enveloped the sublime mysteries of their association. But I feel that I have exceeded the boundaries which I had prescribed to myself, and must postpone to some future letter, the detail of the events which took place subsequent to the trial, and which are now passing before my eyes. The Dublin election-the chairing-the conflict between the College and the mob -the beef-steak club-the Chancellor and Sir Charles Vernon, will furnish materials for my next communication. It is probable that further subjects will in the interval start up.. The dragons' teeth will never cease to spring from this prolific soil-and every hour will add to the abundance of the disastrous harvest. "Alas! poor Country." CRITO.

PEVERIL OF THE PEAK.

THIS is, to our feelings, the least agreeable of all the productions of its author. We risk something in making this frank declaration, for we believe the opinion is contrary, not only to that of the great mass of readers, but to the judgment of some whose praise is fame. It makes unquestionably more pretension to rank as a complete and well-digested whole; it has more semblance of beginning, middle and end, than several of his later romances. But we have never admired the Scottish novelist for any supremacy in those qualities which give attraction to the tales of ordinary writers: his plots have usually been rambling and ill-connected; and with one remarkable exception, the Bride of Lammermuir, his novels have had little consistency, except that of character. He is the very reverse of Richardson, whose most impressive scenes derive their interest from a thousand minute traits elaborately dwelt on, and are realized to us by a routine of preparation, which compels us to believe in the author as we involuntarily put faith in a circumstantial narrative. His best scenes are lighted up by a few masterly touches; a fine, free, glancing pencil; and each of them has an interest of its own, independent of the links by which they are connected. We think of him, not as associated with a certain succession of events, in the midst of which we seemed to live and have our being, but as the author of a crowd of delightful characters as the great magician, at whose touch the noblest groups have started from the canvass of history and glowed with present feeling; as the fine detecter of the redeeming qualities of our nature, who has not elicited them by the spade of laborious philosophy, but the divining rod of intuitive genius; as the inventor of grand, heart-stirring scenes, which are not thought of as chapters of Waverley, the Antiquary, or Old Mortality, but of the great book of human life. We mention the names of the works, but it is not of them we speak; it is of Nicol Jarvie, of Elspeth, of Meg Merrilies, of Rebecca, of Rob Roy, and of a hundred more that we are ruminating; and when we recur to the fisher's funeral, to the last moments of Fergus M'Iver, to the dying revelations of Elspeth, to the death of the Smuggler in the glen of Derncleugh, or VOL. V. No. 27.-1823.

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