dignity as well as the animation of his manner, touched me with that hallowed pleasure and veneration which one may fancy he should feel in the presence of an angel. It has been said, that the poetry of the Arabians participates of the warmth and luxuriancy of their climate. The language of Ames was the poetry of Arabia,—it breathed with the rich perfumes of that country; and the flowers of his rhetoric appeared like the brilliant creations of an Indian sun.

Chatham said of Burke, that he was the only man since Cicero, who wrote and spoke with equal elegance. The talents of writing and conversation are vastly different. So much depends upon the look,-the manner,-the inflection of the voice, that what is luminous and affecting when spoken would be obscure and spiritless if written. Besides a man may have accumulated stores of knowledge, and possess a fertility of fancy, but be destitute of that readiness of conception and that fluency of speech which the sudden turns of conversation require.These two almost incompatible accomplishments of writing and speaking were, however, eminently blended in this wonderful man. His written compositions are some of the finest in the language; and of his colloquial productions, I will say of them what Raynal says of the compositions of the Indians, they possessed a grace, a softness, and a refinement both of expression and of sentiment. His speech was a sort of music so touching, it was a murmur so sweet, his comparisons were so gay and striking, that the language which he spoke in this world to his friends, appeared to be that, which he will speak in the next to the gods.* In fine, when Ames dies, he deserves the same honour which was paid by the Athenians to Isocrates: he should have a column raised on his tomb, and on the top, there should be placed an image of a siren as the symbol of his eloquence. And when he does die (excuse my enthusiasm) some man should devote his time and his talents in holding forth to the public, the example of a character accomplished with every talent of a statesman and a scholar. He could perform no more essential service to his own and to every other age, than by dif

La langue qu'ils parlent dans ce monde a leur maîtresse, semble être celle qu'ils parleront dans l'autre à leurs houris."

fusing an admiration of the character of Ames. We naturally imitate what we admire, and it is not possible to imitate Ames, without exalting human nature; and refining to perfection the love of virtue, of liberty, our country and mankind.

THE FINE ARTS.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

THE MODERN FRENCH SCHOOL.-LIFE OF DAVID.

THE name of David stands in the French school preeminent alike for genius and for crime. When the revolutionary tempest desolated the loyalty of France, he forsook his pencil and became one of the directing demons of the storm. Amongst the number of that ferocious band who, by their suffrages, doomed their sovereign to death, we find the name of this painter. Unsatiated with the murder of his king, he became the ferocious confederate and adviser of the sanguinary Robespierre and Marat. His character may be collected from the following anec dote. He was once asked how many victims had fallen in one day to the frenzy which then pervaded France? and he replied, one hundred and twenty, only, and further added, that the heads of twenty thousand more must fall before the great work of philosophy could be accomplished. He would attend at the guillotine, and with perfect composure, catch the last agonies in the countenance of the expiring victim, and rejoice in the opportunity so afforded of imparting such horrible energy to his canThere is no fear, therefore, but that the name of David will descend to posterity. During the sanguinary scenes of the revolution he remained true to his party; but the republican David now finds in a monarchy that protection he denied in a republic. He is now the favourite painter of Buonaparte, and by a singular revolution of fortune, having assisted in the murder of one sovereign, becomes the flatterer of the next. Fortunate would it be for him if the works of his pencil were the only memorials of his name. But whatever his actions may have been, they cannot impair the splendid memorials of his genius. He is considered the most illustrious painter in France now living, and his

vass.

historical pieces are executed with a boldness and sublimity which nothing but genius can inspire.

This painter possesses all that rigid devotion to antique so characteristic of the French school, to which he superadds all the charms of the most exquisite colouring. He seems formed to create a new era in the annals of French painting, for he unites the charms of Titian's colouring to the classical design of Poussin. His draperies are cast in the most graceful manner, and all his attitudes betoken elegance and grace. With a knowledge of antique he combines a genius so bold and inventive, that however ordinary may be the subject which is touched by his pencil, he immediately, as by a talisman, communicates some new and heretofore undiscovered charm.

From his numerous works we have selected for the present number, the picture of Brutus on his return home after the condemnation of his children, in which the artist has endeavoured to portray the triumphs of the public duties over the private feelings of a magistrate. He has just performed the highest and most generous sacrifice which the interests of his country demanded. But on returning to the bosom of his family, he is met by the reproaches of his despairing wife, and the agonies of his wretched daughters. He is no longer a magistrate, no more a Roman citizen-but a man and a father-one moment is given to parental tenderness, but with the next revives the inflexible integrity of the judge. He retires into a corner of his apartment, and there, enveloped in his mantle, and in obscurity, at the feet of that Rome whose liberties he has saved, and holding in his hands the fatal letter of his sons to Tarquin, the evidence at once of their guilt and his justice, listens in silent horror to the cries of his family, as the lictors are returning from the execution of his children.

INTERESTING PARTICULARS RELATING TO THE BARON DE MONTESQUIEU-BY LORD CHARLEMONT.

In travelling through France I happened, luckily for me, to get acquainted with Mr. Elliot,* a gentleman of Cornwall, whose

* Edward, afterwards lord Elliott.