EDMUND

EDMUND BURKE, who, in an age prolific of eminent men, was among the most distinguished of his century, whether regarded as thinker, writer, or politician, was born, it is said-for the date has been disputed-in Dublin, January 12, 1729. He was the issue of what is now called a mixed marriage. His father, a solicitor in good practice, who claimed connection with the Bourkes of county Limerick, was a Protestant, whilst his mother, one of the Nagles of county Cork, was, like the rest of her family, a stanch Catholic. From this marriage there had sprung one daughter, who was brought up in the faith of her mother, and numerous sons, of whom only three survived, Edmund, Garret, and Richard, who were educated as Protestants. Of this family Edmund, like his great contemporaries Pitt and Fox, was a younger son, and dependent on his own exertions for the career he subsequently carved out for himself. At an early age he was sent to a preparatory school at Ballitore, kept by one Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker, for whom his pupil always entertained the highest regard. Like many boys who have afterwards developed into eminent men, young Burke was of a delicate constitution, and it was feared he would fall a victim to consumption. He avoided severe exercise and all boyish games, preferring to shut himself up away from his fellows poring over the pages of a book, or busy with his own thoughts. "I have been wondering," said his brother Richard when, in after years, Edmund was astonishing the House of Commons by the depth of his learning, "how Ned has contrived to monopolize all the talents of the family, but then again I remember when we were at play he was always at work."

BURKE.

From Ballitore Burke went up, in 1743, to Dublin, and was entered at Trinity College. Here he remained five years, studying mathematics, logic, poetry, and history after a very desultory fashion, yet at the same time proving to his contemporaries that his was no ordinary intellect. On taking his degree he chose the bar for a profession, and had his name entered at the Middle Temple. There is a curious letter of his to a college friend, describing his first impressions of London.

'You'll expect some short account of my journey to this great city," he writes. "To tell you the truth, I made very few remarks as I rolled along, for my mind was occupied with many thoughts, and my eyes often filled with tears when I reflected on all the dear friends I left behind; yet the prospects could not fail to attract the attention of the most indifferent; country seats sprinkled round on every side, some in the modern taste, some in the style of old De Coverley Hall, all smiling on the neat but humble cottage; every village as neat and compact as a beehive, resounding with the busy hum of industry, and inns like palaces.

"What a contrast to our poor country, where you'll scarce find a cottage ornamented with a chimney! But what pleased me most of all was the progress of agriculture, my favourite study and my favourite pursuit, if Providence had blessed me with a few paternal acres.

"A description of London and its natives would fill a volume. The buildings are very fine; it may be called the sink of vice, but its hospitals and charitable institutions, whose turrets pierce the skies like so many electrical conductors, avert the wrath of * "Life of Edmund Burke," by James Prior, two vols.

into two classes, the undoers and the undone; generally so, I say, for I am persuaded there are many men of honesty and women of virtue in every street. An Englishman is cold and distant at first; he is very cautious even in forming an acquaintance; he must know you well before he enters into friendship with you; but if he does, he is not the first to dissolve that sacred bond. In short, a real Englishman is one that performs more than he promises; in company he is rather silent, extremely prudent in his expressions, even in politics, his favourite topic. The women are not quite so reserved; they consult their glasses to the best advantage; and as nature is very liberal in her gifts to their persons and even mind, it is not easy for a young man to escape their glances, or to shut his ears to their softly-flowing accents. As to the state of learning in this city, you know I have not been long enough in it to form a proper judgment of that subject. I don't think, however, there is as much respect paid to a man of letters on this side the water as you imagine. I don't find that genius, the 'rath primrose which forsaken dies,' is patronized by any of the nobility, so that writers of the first talents are left to the capricious patronage of the public. Notwithstanding discouragement literature is cultivated in a high degree. Poetry raises her enchanting voice to Heaven. History arrests the wings of time in his flight to the gulf of oblivion. Philosophy, the queen of arts, and the daughter of Heaven, is daily extending her intellectual empire. Fancy sports on airy wing like a meteor on the bosom of a summer cloud; and even metaphysics spins her cobwebs and catches some flies.

"The House of Commons not unfrequently exhibits explosions of eloquence that rise superior to those of Greece and Rome even in their proudest days. Yet after all a man will make more by the figures of arithmetic than the figures of rhetoric, unless he can get into the trade

"Soon after my arrival in town I visited Westminster Abbey. The moment I entered I felt a kind of awe pervade my mind which I cannot describe; the very silence seemed sacred. Henry VII.'s Chapel is a very fine piece of Gothic architecture, particularly the roof; but I am told that it is exceeded by a chapel in the University of Cambridge. Mrs. Nightingale's monument has not been praised beyond its merit. The attitude and expression of the husband in endeavouring to shield his wife from the dart of death is natural and affecting. But I always thought that the image of death would be much better represented with an extinguished torch inverted than with a dart. Some would imagine that all these monuments were so many monuments of folly; I don't think so. What useful lessons of morality

and sound philosophy do they not exhibit! When the high-born beauty surveys her face in the polished Parian, though dumb the marble, yet it tells her that it was placed to guard the remains of as fine a form and as fair a face as her own. They show, besides, how anxious we are to extend our loves and friendships beyond the grave, and to snatch as much as we can from oblivion; such is our natural love of immortality. But it is here that letters obtain the noblest triumphs; it is here that the swarthy daughters of Cadmus may hang their trophies on high; for when all the pride of the chisel and the pomp of heraldry yield to the silent touches of time, a single line, a half-worn-out inscription, remain faithful to their trust. Blessed be the man that first introduced these strangers into our islands! and may they never want pro