the death, and, let me add, the virtue of many illustrious men, and looks like the lonely column of the fabric which he sustained so nobly, and which has fallen at last around him. It is not wonderful that he should seem to stand in solitary loftiness, and that melancholy should have given a solemn tinge to his mind. He spoke of the measures intended to be made collateral to emancipation, and said,†

successively Lord of the Admiralty and of the Treasury. At the age of 24, the Ministry dismissed him—thereby converting a warm friend into a bitter opponent. He resisted the American war, and on Lord North's removal, obtained a seat in the Cabinet, as Secretary of State. The Rockingham Adminis tration breaking up, on the death of its head, Lord Shelburne became Premier, and after some time, Fox coalesced with Lord North (his old antagonist): a measure which nearly ruined the popularity of both. Their India Bill led to their downfall, and the nomination of William Pitt, in his 25th year, as Premier. Fox espoused the leading principles of the French Revolution, which Pitt contended against, and this also led to a total rupture with Burke, long his friend, and to the erasure of his name, by the hand of the King himself, from the Roll of the Privy Council. When Pitt died, in 1806, Lord Grenville drew Fox from opposition, and made him Foreign Secretary. He did not long hold office, for which he had so long contended, but died in September, 1806. The eloquence of Fox was vehement rather than polished, but it was forcible and effective. In private life he was convivial, witty, and genial. He was somewhat of an historian, too, but spoke better than he wrote. He was addicted to gaming, and was a man of uncalculating and almost boundless extravagance. He was buried in Westminister Abbey, close to his great rival Pitt. Scott says

Drop upon Fox's tomb a tear

"Twill trickle to his rival's bier."

Fox was the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales, afterward George IV., for many years, but the intimacy broke off after the marriage of the Prince.-M.

This article, published May, 1825, broke off thus abruptly, with "(The Conclusion in our next Number)," holding out promise of some more of the personal and political gossip which attracted much attention at the time. The 'conclusion” never appeared. Mr. Sheil told me that, though written, it was suppressed, at the strong desire of the late Lord Grey, one of the haughtiest aristocrats in England, at the time, who was alarmed at the idea of any of his table-talk being reported! I believe that, until now, the exact reason of this suppression, though suspected at the time, has not been stated on authority.— M

ARCHIBALD HAMILTON ROWAN.

Or all the remarkable men I have met, Hamilton Rowan, I think, is the one whose external appearance most completely answers to the character of his mind, and the events of his life. The moment your eye has taken in the whole of his fine athletic configuration, you see at once that nature designed him to be a great massive engine of a popular cause. When he entered life, he might easily have taken his place as a leading member of the aristocracy of his country. He had high connections, a noble fortune, manners and accomplishments that would have graced a court-but his high and adventurous spirit could not have brooked the sedentary forms, and still less the despotic maxims, of an Irish state-career. He never could have endured to sit at a council-board, with his herculean limbs gathered under him, to deliberate upon the most expedient modes of trampling upon public rights. As a mere matter of animal propensity, his more natural vocation was to take the side of enterprise and danger—to mingle in the tumult of popular commotion, and leading on his band of citizen-soldiers "to the portals of the Castle, to call aloud in their name for the minister to come forth and resist at his peril the national cry for Universal Emancipation.' This was his election, and his conscience coincided with his impulses. He became, as might be expected, the idol of the populace, and, from the qualities which made him so, too formidable to the state to be tolerated. He was prosecuted and convicted, by a tribunal of very doubtful purity, of feeling too ardently for the political degradation of Ireland.

*See his trial in Howell's State Trials, for 1794.

† See the motion for a new trial, and the documents there used.-Howell's State Trials.

HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE.

231

Thus far Hamilton Rowan had acted upon the principles of an Irish reformer, and if he avowed them indiscreetly, or pushed them too far, he suffered for it. In his imprisonment, which he at least considered as oppression, he was provoked to listen to more dangerous doctrines. He committed himself in conferences with a spy who procured a ready access to his presence; and to avoid the consequences, effected his escape to a foreign land.

After several years passed in wandering and exile, the merits of his personal character prevailed against the remembrance of his political aberrations, and an act of royal clemency, generously conceded without any humiliating conditions, restored him once more to his country. There he has since resided, in the bosom of domestic quiet, and in the habitual exercise of every virtue that can ennoble private life. He has the satisfaction, too, in his old age, of finding that, in a public point of view, his debt of gratitude to the Crown has not been wholly unpaid. In his eldest son (Captain Hamilton, of the Cambrian frigate) he has given to the British navy one of its most gallant and distinguished commanders, and for whose sake alone every man of a generous spirit should abstain from gratuitous and cruel railings at the obsolete politics of the father.*

Hamilton Rowan's exterior is full of interest. Whether you meet him abroad or in a drawing-room, you are struck at once with his physical pre-eminence. Years have now rendered his frame less erect, but all the proportions of a noble model remain. In his youth he was remarkable for feats of strength and activity. The latter quality was put to no ordinary test, in a principal incident of his life, to which I shall presently refer. His face, both in feature and expression, is in strict accordance with the rest of his person. It has nothing denoting extraordinary comprehension, or subtlety of intellect; but in its masculine outline, which the workings of time have brought out into more prominent relief—in the high and bushy

* This son, who died before his venerable father, eminently distinguished himself in the contest for the independence of Greece, and his father never recov ered his loss-N

brow-the unblenching eye-the compressed lips, and in the
composed yet somewhat stern stability of expression that marks
the whole, you find the symbols of high moral determination—
of fidelity to principle of self-reliance and self-oblivion, and
above all of an uncompromising personal courage, that could
front every
form of danger face to face.*

The austerity of his countenance vanishes the moment he addresses you. His manners have all the fascination of the old school. Every tone of his voice is softened by an innate and undeviating courtesy that makes no distinctions of rank or sex. In the trivial details of common life, Hamilton Rowan is as gentle and complimentary to men as other men are in their intercourse with females. This suavity of demeanor is not the velvet of art; it is only one of the signs of a comprehensive philanthropy, which as habitually breaks out in acts of genuine sympathy and munificent relief, wherever a case of human suffering occurs within its range.

been a giant in his prime, One might almost think he He was long past seventy

The circumstances of Hamilton Rowan's escape from imprisonment, as I once heard them minutely detailed, possessed all the interest of a romantic narrative. The following are such of the leading particulars as I can recall, to my recollection. Having discovered (on the 28th of April, 1794) the extent of the danger in which he was involved, he arranged a *Archibald Hamilton Rowan, who must have was one of the most remarkable men I ever saw. had been made for one purpose-digito monstrari! when I saw him. In stature he was even as one of the sons of Anak. His strongly-marked features indicated firmness and benevolence. His eyes, dark and flashing, beneath shaggy brows. His port, lofty. His stride, large. His manners, of the old school of gentlest courtesy--but his frown, when offended or excited, positively frightening! Crowds used to watch for a sight of this fine "old Irish gentleman," as he came out of the club-house in Kildare street, bearing in his hand a mighty blackthorn (which might have served Hercules for a club), and escorted, on either side, by two immense Irish wolf-dogs, reported to be the very last of their race. Looking at him, and surveying the gen eration among whom he towered, like a forest-oak over a crowd of plantation shrubs, a contemplative man might sigh, and utter, "There were Mendays when he began to live." Mr. Rowan died in November, 1834, aged eighty-four. In his latter years he was much afflicted with deafness, and grief for his gallant son, Captain Hamilton, who died before him, had affected his strong and truly masculine mind.~~ M

2-in the

plan of flight to be put into execution on the night of the 1st of May. He had the address to prevail on the jailer of Newgate, who knew nothing farther of his prisoner than that he was under sentence of confinement for a political libel, to accompany him at night to Mr. Rowan's own house.* They were received by Mrs. R., who had a supper prepared in the front room of the second floor. The supper over, the prisoner requested the jailer's permission to say a word or two in private to his wife in the adjoining room. The latter consented, on the condition of the door between the two rooms remaining open. He had so little suspicion of what was meditated, that instead of examining the state of this other room, he contented himself with shifting his cliair at the supper-table so as to give him a view of the open doorway. In a few seconds his prisoner was beyond his reach, having descended by a single rope, which had been slung from the window of the back chamber.

In his stable he found a horse ready saddled, and a peasant's outside coat to disguise him. With these he posted to the house of his attorney, Matthew Dowling, who was in the secret of his design, and had promised to contribute to its success by his counsel and assistance. Dowling was at home, but unfortunately his house was full of company. He came out to the street to Mr. Rowan, who personated the character of a country client, and hastily pointing out the great risk to be incurred from any attempt to give him refuge in his own house, directed him to proceed to the Rotunda (a public building in Sackville street, with an open space in front) and remain there until Dowling could despatch his guests, and come to him. Irish guests were in those days rather slow to separate from the bottle. For one hour and a half the fugitive had to wait, leading his horse up and down before the Rotunda, and tortured between fear and hope at the appearance of every person that approached. He has often represented this as the most trying moment of his life.

* In order, he pretended, to make out a deed, as fear had been expressed that such an instrument signed in prison would be invalid.-M.

Rowan states, in his autobiography, by which I correct Mr. Sheil's narrative. that, when he was in his wife's room, he changed his dress of a herdsman.--- M.