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The 1st note is dated from the Palais Quirinal, from cardinal PamAli to M. Lefebvre, and is dated the 2d of March. It complains in the most glowing language of the French commandant, in forcibly depriving the chevalier Altieri of the government of Rome; of placing a guard at the post-office, and opening all the letters, in defiance of the public law; of forcibly incorporating the Papal troops with those of France, and placing guards on all the printing-houses, and therchy depriving his holiness of the liberty of the press.

The 2d note is from the same

cardinal to Lefebvre, remonstrating, in the name of his holiness, against the proceedings of the French commander in imprisoning and threatening the officers of his holiness with banishment, because they were adverse to unite with the French against the inclination of their sovereign.

The 3d note is written by the secretary of his holiness to such cardinals as were ordered by the French to quit the papal dominions.

The 4th note is from cardinal Gabrielli to Lefebvre, complaining

of the behaviour of the French in imprisoning and banishing of other cardinals, natives of Italy, as well as of Naples.

The 5th note requires the treasurer of his holiness to give two cardinals banished to the north of Italy 1000 ecus each.

The 6th note is from cardinal Gabrielle to Lefebvre, complaining of the French officers having seized a number of the papal troops, and confining them, and requiring their liberation.

The 7th note is from the same to the same, signifying that after the forced incorporation of the Italian and French troops, his holiness had caused those of his troops who still remained faithful to him to wear a cockade different from the rest, that the public might not ascribe to him the excesses of the French.

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CHARACTERS.

Character of the late Countess of Bath.

H [ENRIETTA Laura Pulteney, Countess of Bath, was descended, by her mother, in a direct line from Daniel Pulteney, brother to the great Earl of Bath. By the failure of male issue in the Pulteney family, her mother became heiress-at-law to their large fortune; the whole of which on the death of her father, the late sir William Pulteney, devolved on lady Bath.

Illustrious by birth and fortune, but more illustrious by those vir tues which are the bond of union among mankind, her character was early marked by those traits of benevolence which distinguished her from such as are only rich and great. In the first impulse of infantine sensibility she would at tempt to give the shoes and stockings from her own feet, to the beggars at the door of her mother's carriage. This amiable principle so favoured by nature, was never checked by education. She enter ed into the bustle of fashionable VOL. L.

life, glowing with all the finer feel ings of humanity; and, after having tasted its enjoyments, perhaps with all the gaiety, certainly with all the innocence of youth, she retired from its allurements with those feel. ings unimpaired.

It was during the tedious hours of sickness that she first turned her thoughts to those more serious stu dies and acquirements which enable the mind to retire into itself with complacency. Awakened to a sense of the most trifling deficiencies, she cultivated habits of application and business, which evinced that she possessed a strength of mind equal to the goodness of her heart. In the exclusive management of her very large estates, she never signed a paper without perusing it, and frequently correcting the mistakes of her lawyers. A degree of exactness and assiduity incompatible with a fashionable life; which indeed she was, in every respect, above.

An almost uninterrupted continuance of ill-health rendered her retirement at last equal to a perfect Α seclusion

seclusion from the world. From position, religion had no obstacles

this time, to form a proper estimate of her character we must put away those ideas which accompany our reflections on the virtues of the rich and noble. We are not to weigh some occasional acts of benevolence against a life of habitual dissipation, or indolent luxury; the strict or ostentatious observance of some moral duties against the indulgence of peculiar frailties; religion, with all the trappings of vanity; and charity, with all the incense of applause: but we must consider the unwearied exercise of all these virtues during long tedious years of solitude and sickness.

The weakness and even the humanity of our nature, when with. drawn from the cheering intercourse of society, requires some object on which to rest its sufferings; some period of hope, however distant, when its sorrows shall be done away. Lady Bath found this object in religion, this hope in the firm assurance of a future life. "You do well," said she to one who visited her in her last illness, "to come so far to see a sick friend; it is by such actions as these we prepare ourselves for another world, which is all in all."

Her devotion, though ardent, was simple and unobtrusive, and if it partook of the glow of enthusiasm, it had none of the austerity of bigotry or gloominess of supersition. When she spoke of her religion, it was the overflowing of a grateful heart, cager to communicate to others a share in those blessings it deemed most precious.

For those who differed from herself in belief or practice, she had only pity; for those who injured ker only forgiveness. In her dis

to overcome. It consequently imbibed neither pride nor bitterness. The finer feelings of the soul were not blunted, nor the milk of human kindness soured by the con. tinual contest between duty and inclination: nor did offended na. ture seek to compensate its sacrifices by the self-homage of spiritual pride.

Love and charity towards our fellows is the first approach to the Supreme Being; and it is then only we worship Him, when our hearts expand with benevolence, and are raised to Him as our common Fa. ther the great bond of social feeling and affection upon earth. This was truly the principle of that amiable character, we now attempt to describe. She loved her God in heaven, as her fellow creatures on earth; and in such feelings no bitterness could dwell.

To a casual observer, constant habits of seclusion might seem to have tinged her temper with melancholy; but in the few moments she could steal from indisposition, her spirits had an appearance not only of cheerfulness but gaiety, with a flow of conversation enriched with anecdotes in a style of naiveté and elegance not unworthy the bril. liant societies of which she had been a member. Her education, chiefly in France, had given her a taste for polite literature; and there were few works of celebrity in either that language or her own, which she had not only read, but of which she was capable of judging. When we add to this, the most unassuming simplicity of manners, the most unaffected good-nature, a strength of mind to know and to discern, and a heart to feel, we

shall

shall look round with a sigh, to think, that the choice of death is not biassed by the feelings and wishes of mankind.

She died at Brighton, July 14th, 1808, aged 41; and was buried in Westminster Abbey. A long train of her illustrious connections followed her to the grave; but the real mourners were the poor and unfriended, who felt that they had lost their benefactress.

Character of William Wilkie, D.D. Professor of Natural Philosophy, in the University of St. Andrews; Author of the Epigoniad; a Volume of Fables; and a Dream, in the manner of Spenser.

THO

cing rays of science, has died a natural death. The last efforts in this way, at all respectable, are, the Leonidas of Glover, the Henriade of Voltaire, and Wilkie's Epigoniad. Still, however, the admirable genius of Wilkie might have been better employed; notwithstanding all that he says in his preface to the Epigoniad, universally allowed to be a piece of masterly criticism. There are few, it is presumed, who can work up their imagination, or be so wrought upon by others, as to feel any interest in the characters or fortunes of the Epigoni. But there is no one who does not admire the varie. gated harmony of Wilkie's versification, formed, it would appear, on the model of Milton's Paradise Lost, and of Thomson's Seasons; the splendour of his descriptions, and the wonderful powers and apparent facility with which he enters into the genius of the times of which he writes, and the very soul of Ho

HOUGH Dr. Wilkie was exceedingly admired by all who knew him, and were capable of estimating his learning and genius as a philosopher, a poet, and a man of wit; his character is, perhaps, less generally known than that of any、mer. He was, as will be readily other man of our times, equally entitled to fame. It must be owned, that there is somewhat of a whimsical appearance in a philosopher's writing a poem, at this time of day, about the sons of the Grecian heroes who fought in the first war against Thebes. In this age of philosophical precision, so destructive of all faith in fable or machinery; there is scarcely any kind of poetry that is tolerable, except the satirical and descriptive, this last including the dramatic. The epic poem, languishing under the pier.

imagined, a most excellent Greek scholar. With the writers of Greece; poets, historians, and philosophers, he was familiarly acquainted, and could not only de scribe, but even imitate, the distinguishing turn or manner of each. His Fables possess both aptness and a beautiful simplicity. As to his Dream, he might be praised for the felicity with which he has imitated Spenser, if an imitation of Spenser had not been, as observed by Mr. Hume, in his History of England, so easy a matter.*

"Several writers of late have amused themselves in copying the style of Spenser, and no imitation has been so indifferent as not to bear a great resemblance to the original. His manner is so peculiar, that it is almost impossible not to transfer some portion of it into the copy."-Hist. of England, chap. xliv. Appendix.

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Dr. Wilkie was once urged by a friend,* (who thought that the rare admixture of a genius for poetry and philosophy, in him united, qualified him in a singular manner for such an undertaking,) to write a didactic poem. This, however, he declined, saying, that he did not know of any one who had succeeded in that species of composition. His friend men. tioned, as an instance of success, Lucretius: Lucretius," said Dr. Wilkie," reminds me of a cobler I once knew, who would now and then take up his fiddle and play himself a tune, but soon throw it aside, and fell a-bammering again on his lasf."

There were circumstances in Dr. Wilkie's life which had a tendency to nourish, if not originally to implant in his mind, a turn and faculty for poetry. He was not born or bred in a crowded city, nor confined to one occupation or pursuit, nor to one set or circle in society; but in a village, or rather hamlet; bred at a parochial school in the country; and after an university education, and while he was Occasionally employed as a preacher of the Gospel, engaged in the business of a farmer and all this in a finely variegated, pleasant, and pic turesque part of the country. One who is born, and bred, and lives chiefly in the country, possesses

many important advantages over the native and constant inhabitant of a town or city. He acquires, without any effort or study, a great deal of knowledge in natural history, and of the manners and ways of men in a state more similar to those of simple and heroic times. Wilkie throughout the whole of his life was placed in situations that gave him opportunities of mingling study, with actual observation on the course of nature, both physical and moral. He was not cramped by the monotony of one employment, or of one class of men. His occu pations and acquaintance were finely and fortunately diversified. By this variety his mind was enriched and expanded, as well as invigorated.

The advantages arising from the establishment of parochial schools in Scotland are many and various. And among these, it is none of the least, that in many places a boy may receive a Latin, or what in England is called a classical 'education, by going to the parish-school in the morning, and returning after school-hours to his father's house. Thus parental affection, and filial respect, unavoidably weakened by the separation required by boarding-schools, or grammar schools in towns, are nourished and strengthened; modesty is preserved; health is promoted; the face of nature, the vicissitudes of the seasons, the

• The reverend Mr. John Playfair, professor of natural philosophy in the university of Edinburgh. Mr. Playfair attracted the notice, and conciliated the es teem of Wilkie, by the appearances he made on the examinations in the natural philosophy class, when he was a student there. And when he afterwards became a student of divinity, he was in the habit of teaching his class for him, when he was indisposed, as he sometimes was. Mr. Playfair was first led into the paths of just philosophy, that chaste, severe, and sure method of philosophizing, for which he is so justly distinguished, by professor Wilkie. Though Mr. Playfair was then a very young man, there was no one among all the numerous friends of Dr. Wilkie, who enjoyed more of his intimacy, or possessed more of his confidence.

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