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He was a little man, with an agreeable, open, and engaging countenance, but so extremely thin, that some of his friends at Paris always called him the political Sylph. When he first landed, with his suite, at Dover, two or three old sailors were walking along the beach. Observing the bustle, "Hey, what's this?" said one." Oh! the French Ambassador! He has just come out of the boat." "Just Heaven!' exclaimed another, "to what have we reduced the French during this war! Only conceive. When I was prisoner in France, two or three years ago, that emaciated ambassador, whom you see like a withered apple-john, yonder, was then by far one of the fattest men who walked the streets in Paris. He absolutely waddled." When this was told to the Duke, he was delighted, and used often to relate it at his own table, as a most happy instance of national humour.

In consequence of repeated solicitations to be recalled, (for his health, naturally delicate, was almost destroyed by the air of London), he returned, after an eight months' residence in England, to Paris. He continued in that metropolis, or its environs, for more than thirty years afterwards, cultivating letters, and all the refined pleasures of society, but not living, as many men of letters do, in a cold, fastidious indifference to the welfare of his country. On the contrary, though much esteemed and liked by Louis XV. and one of the principal ornaments of his court, he opposed the inclinations of that monarch, when he considered them as militating against

France; and, in conjunction with some most respectable noblemen, took a generous, but decided part, against the system of Chancellor Maupeou. Whilst engaged in this opposition, a circumstance occurred, which I shall take leave to mention, as it is in some measure illustrative of his urbanity and polished wit. Louis XV. held a bed of justice, as it was called, and either then, or in one of the audience rooms at Versailles, forbad the members of the parliament of Paris to trouble him with any further remonstrances; "for," added he, with a most emphatic tone, “I shall never change." His favourite, the beautiful, unfortunate Ma-dame de Barry, and the Duke of Nivernois, were present at the scene. Some days after, she met the Duke, and addressing him with great gaiety, "Well, Monsieur de Nivernois," said she, "you may surely now give up your opposi tion; for you yourself heard the king say, that he would never change." "Certainly, Madam," he replied, "I did hear him; and indeed no wonder, for he was looking at you."

He was, when far advanced in life, (for he was then some years beyond seventy) at length called to the councils of his sovereign. M. de Malsherbes, the Count de la Luzerne, and one or two more, were his assistants. It was then too late. The time of the court had been long wasted in the most wretched intrigues; and the toilette of that most fascinating of all. women, Madame de Polignac, was, however originally adverse to her inclinations, alternately become, with that of her royal friend, Marie, Antoinette,

Antoinette, the scene of frivolous, ridiculous appointments, in which vanity, levity, personal whim or caprice, were alone consulted, and the dread exigence of the moment either not understood, or feebly administered to. The waters were out, they had overspread the land; and it required more talents than fell to the share of the Duke de Nivernois, and his coadjutors, had they been all even in the prime of life, to give the repose of a moment to the shattered political vessel of France. The Duke lived long enough to see his well-intentioned sovereign, the unhappy Antoinette, whose beauty and tenderness of heart were once the subject of every eulogy, and the angelic Princess Elizabeth, dragged, in the midst of Paris, to the scaffold, by monsters in a human form. Accustomed as this world has ever been to spectacles of sorrow, such a downfall of all earthly grandeur, such a fell vicissitude, it perhaps never before witnessed.

But what is singular in the history of Monsieur de Nivernois's life, is, that although remaining in Paris, he survived even the multiplied atrocities and murders of Robespierre. How he escaped, it is not very easy to conceive, as he had every requisite for the guillotine, which that dæmon so often looked for in the victims of his tyranny-bigbrank, venerable age, goodness of mind, love of letters, and love of his country. Yet, with all these qualifications for being murdered in such a time, he was not; but lived to publish several of his works, and died very peaceably in 1798, at the advanced age of eighty-two!

LORD POWERSCOURT.

Of the nobleman whom I have occasion now to mention, the sentiments of all, who had the happiness of being known to him, were uniform and unvaried. His generosity and magnificence, his engaging, unaffected conversation, the lively energies of his mind, were almost generally felt and acknowledged. That this colouring is not over-charged, many who are still living, and knew him well, can bear ample testimony. He was distinguished among his associates, and those who, having long survived him, idolized his memory, by the appellation of the French Lord Powerscourt; an epithet, not of frivolity, but acquired merely by his long residence in France, where his agreeableness, his vivacity, and courteous, easy manners, rendered him universally liked; and with some of the principal personages of the court of Louis the Fifteenth he was a particular favourite.

In London he was equally relished; and whether there or in Dublin, conversing with men of sense, and the world, entertaining a brilliant circle of both sexes at his delightful seat of Powerscourt, or again returning to the society of Paris, La Clairon, Comte D'Argenson, and others, he captivated all ranks of people. He seemed to exist only to please, and render those about him contented, and satisfied with themselves. Having been a votary of fashion for seve→ ral years, and given rise to many of its fantasies, and agreeable follies, he was not overpowered by the habits of self-indulgence. Ho

listened

listened reluctantly, and supinely, at first, but still he listened, to the voice of his country, which told him, that the duties of public life should take their turn al-o, and had a predominant claim on those who, like him, to high birth and station, added, what was of far more consequence to the community, the powers of a strong and cultivated mind. Accordingly he, for some time, attended the House of Lords. But he soon discovered that, although he wished to engage in business, the Upper House of the Irish Parliament was, of all places on earth, the most unpropitious to any such laudable pursuit. An ungenerous and unwise policy had withered almost all the functions of that assembly, and the illomened statute of George the First, hung on it like an incubus. He was much mortified at finding himself in the company of such august, but imbecile, inefficient personages, who moved about, more like the shadows of legislators, than genuine and sapient guardians of the realm, or counsellors to Majesty. He soon grew weary of them. To an intimate friend of his, who often repeated the circumstance to me, he lamented that he was not born a commoner; and some time after, he proved that he was not affectedly querulous or insincere in the regret which he expressed, for he procured a seat in the English House of Commons. Whilst he sat there, he spoke not unfrequently; his speaking was much approved of, and he began to relish the new scene of life, into which, for the best purposes, he had now entered. But procrastination renders our best efforts ineffectual; a severe malady soon

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overtook him; he resigned his seat in the House of Commons, and after struggling with uninterrupted ill health for some time, he died universally beloved in the prime of life, having scarcely passed his thirty-fourth year. Lord Charlemont lived with him, as with the dearest brother of his heart, and to the close of his life spoke of, and lamented him, with the truest sensibility.

EARL OF CARHAMPTON.

Simon Luttrell, Earl of Carhampton, was descended from a long line of progenitors, who, for several centuries, were seated at Luttrelstown, in the county of Dublin, where, as well as in other counties of Ireland, they had very large possessions. The immediate ancestors of Lord Carhampton, or some of them at least, followed the fortunes of James the Second. His uncle held a high rank in that prince's army, and was by him ap ́pointed a privy counsellor of Ireland, on the same day with the celebrated Anthony, Count Hamilton. He was killed at the battle of Landen. Lord Carhampton was bred up in political principles directly opposite to those of his ancestors; and received the first part of his education at Eton, where he formed early habits of intimacy with Lord Camden, whose age corresponded exactly with his own. He was a distinguished member of the House of Lords in Ireland for many years, though by no means young when he took his seat in that assembly. Whilst he was there, he spoke with his accustomed wit and humour, great perspicuity,

spicuity, adroitness, knowledge of mankind, quickness in perceiving, and rallying the foibles of his adversaries, stimulating, if it suited his purpose, a warm temper to warmth still greater, with a general vigilance, and command of his own. To oratory he had no claim. He was well versed in the proceedings of parliament, as, for the best part of his life, he had sat in the English House of Commons, where, though he did not press forward as a constant debater, he was a most keen and accurate observer of all that passed. As a companion, a more agreeable man could scarcely be found. He was the delight of those whose society he frequented, whilst he resided in Dublin, as he did almost constantly towards the close of his life. His conversation (for I had long the honour and happiness of partaking of it) was charming; full of sound sense, perfect acquaintance with the histories of the most distinguished persons of his own age, and that which preceded it; without the least garrulity pursuing various narratives, and enlivening all with the most graceful original humour. In many respects it resembled that species of conversation, which the French, at a period when society was best understood, distinguished above all other colloquial excellence of that day, by the appropriate phrase of l'Esprit de Mortemart. Gay, simple, very peculiar, yet perfectly natural, easy, and companionable; unambitious of all ornament, but embellished by that unstudied and becoming air, which a just taste, improved by long familiarity with persons of the best manners, can alone bestow. Lord Carhampton was an

excellent scholar; but as the subjects which engaged his attention in general were either political, or such as an agreeable man of the world would most dwell on in mixed companies, his literary acquirements were only, or more peculiarly, known to those who lived in greater intimacy with him.

To enter into an idle and unskilful panegyric of this nobleman, is not the part of these memoirs; but they can state, with propriety, that he was friendly and good-natured; and it is only doing bare justice to his memory to add, that the accounts which political writers of the day, especially at the period of the Middlesex election, published with regard to him, are almost without exception to be regarded as the mere fabrications of party.

EARL OF BELLAMONT.

Charles Coote, Earl of Bellamont, was, I believe, descended from that Sir Charles Coote, who acted no inconsiderable part as a military personage, in Ireland, during that agitated period which succeeded the calamitous æra of 1641. No portion of his warlike spirit was lost in his descendant, who, at an early period of his life, distinguished himself against the Oak boys, and other insurgents; for which services it was thought proper to reward him with a red ribband; and he was accordingly invested with the ensigns of the order of the Bath by the Duke of Northumberland, then Lord Lieutenant, at the castle of Dublin, He was a nobleman who possessed much quickness of parts, of real

but

but very singular talents, and most fantastic in the use of them. In his dress, his air, his manners, his diction, whether in common conversation, or debate, he was totally unlike any other man of his time. His person was well-formed, of a most advantageons height, and, when decorated with his star, or other emblems of chivalry, he moved along like a Lord Herbert of Cherbury, or one of those knights who jousted in Aspramont or Montalban;" as lofty in mien as in phrases; courteous, or hostile, as the occasion required. His oratory cannot be at all adequately described. He must have been heard in the House of Lords, where the stately march of his periods, his solemn pauses, his correspondent gestures, his selection of words, so remote from common use, yet not always deficient in energy or point, sometimes excited the admiration, and always the amazement of his auditors. The politeness of his manners was certainly engaging, though ceremonious, and tinctured with that eccentricity, which pervaded his whole deportment. He had a just and becoming public spirit, which conciliated the regard of Lord Charlemont, who acted as his second in his celebrated duel with the Marquis Townshend; when, it is almost superfluous to add, he behaved with his usual characteristic gallantry and punctilious antique courtesy. He was most severely wounded, but lived many years afterwards.

WALTER HUSSEY BURGH.

Walter Hussey, who afterwards took the name of Burgh, and was

advanced to the station of Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, came at this time into parliament under the auspices of James Duke of Leinster. He immediately joined the opposition then formed against the administration of Lord Townshend. His speeches, when he first entered the House of Commons, were very brilliant, very figurative, and far more remarkable for that elegant, poetic taste, which had highly distinguished him, when a member of the university, than any logical illustration, or depth of argument. But as he was blessed with great endowments, every session took away somewhat from the unnecessary splendour and redundancy of his harangues. To make use of a phrase of Cicero, in speaking of his own improvement in eloquence, his orations were gradually depriv. ed of all fever. Clearness of intellect, a subtle, refined, and polished wit, a gav, fertile, uncommonly fine imagination, very classical taste, superior harmony, and elegance of diction, peculiarly characterised this justly celebrated man.. Though without beauty, his countenance was manly, engaging, and expressive; his figure agreeable and interesting; his deportment eminently, gracefu!.

To those who never heard him, as the fashion of this world in eloquence, as in all things, soon passes away, it may be no easy matter to convey a just idea of his style of speaking; it differed totally from the models which have been presented to us by some of the great masters of rhetoric in latter days. His eloquence was by no means gaudy, tumid, nor approaching to that species of oratory, which the Roman critics denominated Asi

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