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Each of the others moves in the sphere most suited to his endowments, whilst the master mind gives direction, and life, and unity, to all their operations. In nothing, perhaps, is his power more exemplified than in the numerous mistakes which he has with impunity committed, in playing his part on the great theatre created and directed by himself. When we use the words "with impunity," we mean, without diminishing his influence, or weakening the veneration attached by his followers to his name. His errors appear, in truth, to have arisen from the same rash and ardent temperament, the same warmth of feeling, that plunge him with enthusiasm into every cause -whether he pleads at the bar of the court in behalf of some poor and persecuted client, or rises in his little senate to paint the injuries and vindicate the rights of his country. In all, and through all, he is the same-eager and impassioned. He has thus gained a character seldom bestowed upon a lawyer-that no man ever heard him speak, and thought of asking whether he was in earnest. In private life no man is more respected. Amiable and benevolent, he is esteemed by all who have access to his circle. It is not, however, our business to lift the screen which veils domestic life; nor, in truth, can such traits, however commendable, be allowed much weight in deciding on his character and conduct as a public man.

Mr. O'Connell, as we have been informed, was born in 1770, and called to the bar in 1798. Good connexions and-what was more important-splendid talents did not permit him to slumber long in that obscurity which generally chills the spirit of the aspiring candidate for forensic fame. In the Irish courts, much greater latitude is given to the addresses of the practising barristers than would be tolerated, or at least encouraged, in Westminster Hall. There seems, in truth, to be something in the very air of the sister island which precludes the possibility of binding down its natives to the cold dry rules that regulate the orations of

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English lawyers. The latter possess something of a phlegmatic quality, which is not to be found in the more mercurial temperament of their transmarine brethren. In Westminster Hall the most absurd point of law is discussed with the greatest gravity; authorities from the first of Richard I. to the eighth of George IV. are brought to bear upon every assailable position; and the unfortunate caitiff, who is stripped of his paternal acres by a judicial decree, is consoled with the hopeful prospect of a recovery in value against the common crier of the court, without a smile being raised on the blooming visages of the junior apprentices, or a curl on the sailow faces of the more hardened veterans. Ireland, the dry details of legal discussion are generally relieved by the flash of ready wit and lively repartee; and the play of imagination is permitted to illuminate the labyrinth of abstruse speculations. But in the addresses to juries, the difference between the two races is still more perceptible. Here, the balance of conflicting testimonies is measured to the weight of a feather; probabilities are marshalled to fill the chasms of direct evidence, and its due importance carefully assigned to each conjecture; and the learned counsel can expatiate with the most professional sang froid on the quantum of damages to be assigned as the just value of wounded feelings. In Dublin, there is much more than this. The deficiencies of evidence are obviated by appeals to the feelings of the jurors; and the losing pleader endeavors to subdue the opposition of cool judgment by enlisting the passions in his cause. The Irish juries expect something more than a meagre outline of the facts, which they are afterwards to gather in detail; and a "pretty speech" has been known to work wonders for one who has perhaps little else to offer. Matters, it is true, have changed much within the last twenty years-since the days when Curran and his compeers were in their glory; but the essential character of pleading remains still the same. Hence

it is, that our neighbors are generally so fond of attending the public trials. The eloquent and impassioned harangues of the leading lawyers-the ingenious cross-examination of shrewd and humorous witnesses, who are not unfrequently an overmatch for their torturers,—and the splendid and luminous charges of such men as Bushe and Plunkett, afford a mental treat which it requires some philosophy to withstand.

Mr. O'Connell's peculiar qualifications can be more easily described by stating what he is not, than by telling what he is. He is not equal to Pennefather in puzzling the judges upon some subtle point, which has been raked from the dusty folios of technical perplexity. He is not a match for Wallace in showing the cogency of an inapplicable reason, or the necessity of admitting what his hearers know to be impossible. He is not so ingenious as O'Grady in diving to the core of a recreant witness, and tearing aside the mantle wrapped round perjury or fraud. He has not the cold, but graceful and classic, eloquence of North, pouring upon the ear "like moonlight on a marble statue." But he is endowed in an eminent degree with the characteristic excellencies of them all. Undiverted from his professional duties by the temptations of pleasure, or the devotion that he pays at the shrine of ambition, his clients know that he will not fail to be prepared for the important moment, with all the power which a strong mind and a life of industry bestow. Intimately acquainted with the peculiarities of Irish disposition, he is not often defeated by the stubbornness or cunning of a witness. Natural ingenuity, and a ready fluency, render his arguments at the least deserving of attention; while his earnest manner and air of sincere conviction sometimes make his audience believe that they also should hold the same opinions with himself. Upon the whole, those who regard him without the prejudice of political feeling will have little hesitation in placing him in the foremost

rank of his profession, and certainly at the head of the Nisi Prius lawyers. The numbers of the orange party who send their briefs to the great enemy of their band, attest at once the dependence placed on his talents and integrity. Of a man so highly gifted, what must be the feelings, when he finds himself superseded in the road of professional advancement by individuals whom he knows to be as much his inferiors in talent as they are in standing? Without detracting from his patriotism, we may readily suppose that a little personal leaven mingles with his public zeal. A curious misunderstanding ensued some time since between him and Mr. North, concerning some point of etiquette in the business of court, which cut home to the bosom of Mr. O'Connell, whilst it gave him a triumphant opportunity of wreaking vengeance on the laws, that deprive him of the just reward of his exertions. 'Tis seldom, however, that he is drawn into a squabble in court: he is a goodnatured though warm man; and the briefless barrister or busy attorney, with whom he exchanges the ready joke in passing, can seldom regard him with feelings of ill-will.

The Association is the place in which he is most at home. As with him it originated, so has he since organized and directed it. Whatever may be the opinion entertained of his conduct, or the influence of this assembly, it has done more to forward the Catholic cause, by forcing it perpetually upon the public mind, and compelling attention to its consideration, than any less obtrusive method could possibly have effected. The public debates have attracted and instructed all, even the lowest of the Catholic body; and the Rent has furnished such means to organize and consolidate the energies of the whole mass, that it would be now equally impolitic and impossible to suppress the Association, without incurring the risk of a general and bloody rebellion. It is (to use an old, but not the less appropriate, metaphor) the safetyvalve, by which the discontent of the

population may escape. Mr. O'Connell has latterly abated much of the violent personal abuse, in which he formerly allowed himself to indulge. Besides the obvious impropriety of using such language at all, it came with a bad grace from him, who considered the fatal result of one unfortunate duel a sufficient plea for refusing either apology or satisfaction to men with whose feelings and reputations he had wantonly trifled. One so circumstanced should be particularly guarded in his language. Since Mr. O'Connell has resolved not to give satisfaction, he should avoid incurring the obligation. There is still, however, a degree of coarseness in his harangues that might well be spared. His mind seems rather strong and fiery than polished or delicate. He is not a classical speaker; and, if we may judge from his own practice, his acquaintance with English literature is small his whole quotations may be found within the compass of eight lines. His manner, too, is not that of a polished man it is vigorous and animated, and perhaps the best for the auditory which he generally addresses; it comes home to them, for he speaks for himself as well as them-he is one of themselves. Amongst the peasantry, no other orator could be so powerful. He knows their dispositions; and the "Cheer for old Ireland," which

invariably closes his address, is as regularly followed by one, not less hearty, given to himself. If Cæsar wrote as he fought, Mr. O'Connell may be said to speak as he looks. With a broad chest and Herculean shoulders, his careless and independent swing as he walks along, might pass him for a plain wealthy farmer, were it not for the fire that occasionally flashes from his eye. His language and look are strong and homely; but a second glance shows that he is something out of the way of ordinary men. We can read in his countenance a little of that stiffness, which prevents him from willingly acknowledging his error, when the warmth or violence of his temper has led him astray. We might mention instances of this stubbornness, but our sketch is already too long. We have purposely declined saying anything about the Clare election, or its consequences, as politics do not properly belong to our pages; but we do hope that a recurrence of such dilemmas will soon be rendered unnecessary. Though not so sanguine as many are, with respect to Mr. O'Connell's prospect of success in his enterprise, we cannot conclude without repeating our belief that he has done much for the freedom of his country, and that, when political passion has died away, his name will be inscribed among the most favored of her children.

AWKWARDNESS.

MAN is naturally the most awkward in the more complicated operations of animal that inhales the breath of life. life. Behold that individual on a There is nothing, however simple, horse! See with what persevering which he can perform with the alacrity he hobbles up and down from smallest approach to gracefulness or the croup to the pommel, while his ease. If he walks, he hobbles, or horse goes quietly at an amble of from jumps, or limps, or trots, or sidles, or four to five miles in the hour. See creeps but creeping, sidling, limp- how his knees, flying like a weaver's ing, hobbling, and jumping, are by no shuttle, from one extremity of the means walking. If he sits,—he fid- saddle to another, destroy, in a pleagets, twists his legs under his chair, sure-ride from Edinburgh to Rosthrows his arm over the back of it, lin, the good grey kerseymeres, which and puts himself into a perspiration, were glittering a day or two ago in by trying to be at ease. It is the same Scaife and Willis's shop. The horse

begins to gallop-Bless our soul! the gentleman will decidedly roll off. The reins were never intended to be pulled like a peal of Bob Majors; your head, my friend, ought to be on your own shoulders, and not poking out between your charger's ears; and your horse ought to use its exertions to move on, and not you. It is a very cold day, you have cantered your two miles, and now you are wiping your brows, as if you had run the distance in half the time on foot.

People think it a mighty easy thing to roll along in a carriage. Step into this noddy. That creature in the corner is evidently in a state of such nervous excitement that his body is as immovable as if he had breakfasted on the kitchen poker; every jolt of the vehicle must give him a shake like a battering-ram; do you call this coming in to give yourself a rest? Poor man, your ribs will ache for this for a month to come! But the other gentleman opposite: see how flexible he has rendered his body. Every time my venerable friend on the coachbox extends the twig with a few yards of twine at the end of it, which he denominates "a whupp," the suddenness of the accelerated motion makes his great round head flop from the centre of his short thick neck, and come with such violence on the unstuffed back, that his hat is sent down upon the bridge of his nose with a vehemence which might well nigh carry it away. Do you say that man is capable of taking a pleasure ride? Before he has been bumped three miles, every pull of wind will be jerked out of his body, and by the time he has arrived at Roslin, he will be a dead man. If that man prospers in the world, he commits suicide the moment he sets up his carriage.

We go to a ball. Mercy upon us! is this what you call dancing? A man of thirty years of age, and with legs as thick as a gate-post, stands up in the middle of the room, and gapes, and fumbles with his gloves, looking all the time as if he were burying his grandmother. At a given signal, the 8 ATHENEUM, VOL. 1, 3d series.

unwieldy animal puts himself in motion; he throws out his arms, crouches up his shoulders, and, without moving a muscle of his face, kicks out his legs, to the manifest risk of the bystanders, and goes back to his place puffing and blowing like an otter, after a half-hour's burst. Is this dancing? Shades of the filial and paternal Vestris! can this be a specimen of the art which gives elasticity to the most inert conformation, which sets the blood glowing with a warm and genial flow, and makes beauty float before our ravished senses, stealing our admiration by the gracefulness of each new motion, till at last our souls thrill to each warning movement, and dissolve into ecstacy and love? Maiden, with the roses lying among the twinings of thy long red hair! think not that the art of dancing consists merely in activity and strength. Thy limbs, which are none of the weakest, were not intended to be the rivals of a pavior's hammer: the artificer, who trimmed thy locks, had no idea that his labors were to be lifted three feet higher than thy natural height from the ground; spare thyself such dreadful exertion, we beseech thee, and consider that thine ankle, though strong and thick as St. George's pillars, may still be broken or sprained with such saltatations.

People seem even to lahor to be awkward. One would think a gentleman might shake hands with a familiar friend without any symptoms of cubbishness. Not at all. The hand is jerked out by the one with the velocity of a rocket, and comes so unexpectedly to the length of its tether, that it nearly dislocates the shoulder bone.

There it stands swaying and clutching at the wind, at the full extent of the arm, while the other is half poked out, and half drawn in, as if rheumatism detained the upper moiety, and only below the elbow were at liberty to move. After you have shaken the hand, (but for what reason you squeeze it, as if it were a sponge, I can by no means imagine,) can you not withdraw it to your side, and keep

it in the station where nature and comfort alike tell you it ought to be Do you think your breeches' pocket the most proper place to push your hand into? Do you put it there to guard the solitary half-crown from the rapacity of your friend; or do you put it across your breast in case of an unexpected winder from your apparently peaceable acquaintance on the opposite side?

Who, in the name of wonder, taught you to touch your hat? Do you imagine that any lady will be pleased by your doffing your castor, as if it hurt your head, or throwing your hand up to it, as if to hold it on against a sudden gust of wind, or tapping it on the brim with the point of your forefinger, as if it were the interior of a snuff-box? Why will you be so awkward? Most learned expounder of the intricacies of law, remember when your hat is fairly and genteelly off, the best thing you can do is to put it quietly and calmly on again. Recollect in these easterly winds that you have left your wig in the Parliament House, and besides, that some booby of a phrenologist will set you down in his next philosophical essay, as endowed with an enormous organ of off hattiveness, and the proportions of your neck may be quite as well concealed. Stop, my dear George, you intended to take off your hat to the ladies in the blue pelisses,-your nod was pretty well, but your salute, as we say in the army, was bestowed upon two lady's maids and three children in a window three doors farther

on.

Is it not quite absurd that a man can't even take a glass of wine without an appearance of infinite difficulty and pain? Eating an egg at breakfast, we allow, is a difficult operation, but surely a glass of wine after dinner should be as easy as it is undoubtedly agreeable. The egg lies under many disadvantages. If you leave the eggcup on the table, you have to steady it with the one hand, and carry the floating nutriment a distance of about two feet with the other, and always in

a confoundedly small spoon, and sometimes with rather unsteady fingers. To avoid this, you take the egg-cup in your hand, and every spoonful have to lay it down again, in order to help yourself to bread; so, upon the whole, we disapprove of eggs.

But the glass of wine-can any thing be more easy? One would think not-but if you take notice next time you empty a glass with a friend, you will see that, sixteen to one, he makes the most convulsive efforts to do with ease what a person would naturally suppose was the easiest thing in the world. Do you see, in the first place, how hard he grasps the decanter, leaving the misty marks of five hot fingers on the glittering crystal, which ought to be pure as Cornelia's fame? Then remark at what an acute angle he holds his right elbow as if he were meditating an assault on his neighbor's ribs; then see how he claps the bottle down again as if his object were to shake the pure ichor, and make it muddy as his own brains. Mark how the animal seizes his glass, -he will break it into a thousand fragments! See how he bows his lubberly head to meet half way the glorious cargo; how he slobbers the beverage over his unmeaning gullet, and chucks down the glass so as almost to break its stem after he has emptied it of its contents as if they had been jalap or castor-oil! Call you that taking a glass of wine? Sir, it is putting wine into your gullet as you would put small beer into a barrel,-but it is not-oh, no! it is not taking, so as to enjoy, a glass of red, rich port, or glowing, warm, tinted, beautiful caveza ! Men are decidedly more awkward than " all-commanding woman," every where, except on the road.

A newly married couple are invited to a wedding-dinner. See when they enter the room, how differently they behave.-How gracefully she waves her head in the fine recover from the withdrawing curtsy, and beautifully extends her hand to the bald-pated individual grinning to her on the rug!

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