The Sun.
London, England, 1851-07-17 00:00:00

LITERATURE

CURRAN AND BIS CONTEMPORARIES.
By Charles Phillips, hsq., A. 8., 6-c. Fourth
Ldition. Blackwood and Son.
Annlner edition—the fourth—testifies the excel-
lence as well as the popularity of this brilliant and
enthralling biography. It may be remembered how
very recently we had occasion to announce the ap-
pearance of its predecessor, and yet already a reprint
has been demanded. That circumstance alone is a
sufficient panege ric on the work as a literary per-
formance. To the biographer himself it must seem
yet m qe precious as a sort of national approval of
his eloquent and earnest tribute to the shedow of a
departed friendship. Those who have obtained any-
thieg like an intimate acquaintance with the volume
as it was, even at the period of its original publica-
tion, will .comprehend how sincerely and deeply felt
must be the pleasure with which the author must
regard the dissemination of his encomiums upon
Curran among the masses of his fellow-country-
men. The knowledge that he is thus multiplying
the admirers of that great and remarkable man
must be to b.an a source of exquisite consolation
whenever he laments the calamity of his disappear-
ance. It must console.him for the extinguishing of a
light so illustrious to consider that its reflection upon
his own admiration is being continually repeated
upon the admiration of every reader of the biogra-
phy. With reierence to the public at large, more-
over,it must be matter of exceeding satisfaction to
be able to turn to any such well-authenticated parti-
culars as those which are here furnished by Mr.
Charles Phillips, in regard to a person of such extra-
ordinary powers and world-wide celebrity as Curran
(p. 433)-." The unique, the wondrous, the inimit-
able Curran"—that famous Curran of whom Dr.
Birkbeck said that within the space of every five
consecutive minutes (p. 434), he would make him
" both laugh and cry"—taut wonderful genius of
whom Lord Byron remarked—" He beats every body ;
his imagination is beyond human ; and his humour
perfect ; he has fifty faces, and twice as many
voices when he mimics ; I never met his equal,"
adding, at another time, " Curran ! Curran's the
man who struck me most : the riches of his Irish ima-
gination were exhaustless; I have heard that man
speak more poetry than I have ever seen written,
though I saw him seldom and but occasionally."
Such is the surprisingly gifted genius selected by Mr.
Phillips as the subject of his biography and the ob-
ject of his eulogiums. Entering upon the fulfilment
of his duties as the memorialist or celebrant of the
career of John Philpot Curran, the author has in the
noble volume before us contributed an estimable
offering to the literature of the United Kingdom.
Aware of the merits of the work in its improved form,
it is gratifying nevertheless to find its excellence yet
further increased by the addition of several very in-
teresting and hitherto unpublished particulars. The
mass of anecdotes scattered through the chapters, en-
livening almost every alternate page, and intermingling
the charm of wit, and humour, and pun, and re.
partee—

" Quips, end cranks, and wantli
with the more sober materials of the biography, has
been in the present edition here and there increased.
Added to which we may notice more especially the
introduction of an entirely new chapter on the Duke
of Wellington as one of Curran's contemporaries.
From this interpolated addition we take tLe sub-
joined quotations :

" WELLINGTON.

"It has been asked tf me, why, in enumerating the
contpearmaries of Curran, the ornumf-nts of cur common

country, I have omitted, immeasurably the greatest of
them all—Arthur, Duke of Wellington, a❑ Irishman
by bir,h, an acseciate of Curran in the Irish House of
Commons in 1.793, a high official afterwards in that
country.. Irdand justly claims him as her own, end,
not unreasonably, complains of the omissirin. Though
the complaint is just the emission was intt-ntional. In
clination, duty, love of my native land, all imperatively
prescribed a task which, nevertheless, conscious incom•

•
potency admonished me to decline. Deeply did I fed it
was nut mine to Sx the flashing of the diamond, or gaze,
with e)e undimmed, on more than half a century of
glory. True, indeed, it is that, with a patriot, and
therefore, perhaps, an excusable ambition. I had ven-

tared to delineate the wits, the orators, and statesmen of
my country. Bat, then, it was because in the contrasts
and variirties of their career I thought myself furnished
with the tintings which might guide me.
"The elequent lamented voice is scarcely hushed
which mourned Ireland as the difficulty' of his Govern-
ment—a melancholy, and, in my mind, from a British
statesman, a humiliating admission! Why should this
be so? and so, in the seventh century of England's
sway ? It is, indeed, to every thinking man's astonish.
menr, a difficulty,' and it is more than a difficulty—it
is a reproach—or, it may be, a peril. How easy it is to
fold the arms, and cast the bl.me on Ireland! Nothiu g
more easy than for the libellers alike of man and Pro.
valence insanely to insist that there is something in INT
nature so dogged and incorrigible, or in her intellect so
dull, or in' her instincts so indocile, as to tender culture
vain and statesmanship abortive; and this of the lan d
which gave the empire (but one of many bounties) all
that was eloquent, profound, philosophic, sagacious,
almost inspired, in Burke; and which, even in this our
own day, gives to the slanders an illustrious and living
refutation! Yes, had libelled Ireland been all, or more
than all, her libellers assert, she has given a compensa-
tion to the nation, which he saved, in Arthur, Duke of
Wellington. Grateful England feels it, and his pour
country, prostrate, forlorn, and desolate as she lies, still
half forgets her misery, as she hears the generous min-
strel of the north—

Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern mi.m•trelsy,
His jests, while each blithe comrade round him flings,

And moves to death with military glee.
Boast, Erin, boast then, tameless, frank, and free,
In kindness warm, and fierce in dangers known,
Rough nature's children, humorous as she.
And He—yon chieftain—strike the proudest tone
Of thy bold harp, green isle— the hero is thine own !'

" This truly great man encountered, in his commence-
ment, the destined fate of greatness. Detraction, as
usual, muttered its presage of ill omen, the presage 'of
a moms nt. it was but heard and hushed. boon loftily
above it rang the trumpet of Assaye; Europe caught
up the tone—it woke the frozen echoes of the north,
called Spain and Portugal again to life, startled the fal-
con amid the silence of the Pyrenees, bade prostrate
France arise, and, at last, from Waterloo resounded
through the world. The path to' fame's fair temple' lay
indeed be'ore him; but it was steep, and it was rugged..
Dangers.privations, jealousy, vicissitude, and difficultie s
of every kind beset, but sought in vain to bi.file him. In
fact, they only proved his genius. That course which,
in another, would have indicated defeat, was in him the
result of science and design. His retreat always pre-
luded a triumph—his pause was merely a preparative
to progress; and when, at last, amid the doubts, and
to the dismay o:' those who could not comprehend bias.
he rested amid that marvel of his strategy, the lines of
Torres \red' as, it was to give breathless victory a brie.?
repose—it was that Fabius might complete the wreath, to
which every hero had previously contributed. It; how-
ever, his caretr was at times exposed and perilous. so, on
the other band, it was not without its felicities. Amongst
t.tie latter may be counted both the foe he had to com'eat
and the theatre of the contest. Amid the ming led
scenes of Moorish romance and Andalusian chivalry,
every rock awoke some noble re collection—' visions, of
glery tired the aching sight.' The mighty gpirit of the
Cid himself seemed to arise, in I's cogunion of a kindred
heroism. Nor were the hostile ranks unworthy their n n-
tsgonist. No barbaric horde, an easy prey to disQi-
plirie, nu conscript levy, to whom war was novel; tat
iron legions, inured to danger, familiar with victory,
and ignorant of tear. And the chirfa who led them,—
honour to their memories !—honour to the
brave, although they were our enemies!—well
were such 1. sclera worthy of such followers.
No ancestral shields or herald's artifice made
pedigree supply the place of merit. Nature's own
nobility, their cradle was the mks, their achievements
their only title-deeds to distinction • heroes, indeed, who
with their own bright swords carved their armorial bear-
ings; veterans of the bivouac, the battle, and the siege--
new bronzed beneath the sun of Egypt, now nerved amid
the Alpine snows—their names familiar as the fields on
which they fought, and their exotic garlands culled from
the varieties of the climes in which they conquered. .No
wonder that their eagle had soared, from Rome to Mos-
cow, over every
capital in Europe. No great marvel
that prostrate dynas,ies indicated its course, and rising
kingdoms mar Iced its resting-place!
" There were occasions on which he (Wellington)
stood, and stood alone, against the concentrated energies
of France. In one single month, and in one single pro-
vince—that of Estratnadura—six of their ablest generals,
boult, Ney, Mortier, Kellerman, Victor, and Sabastiani ,
were in the field against him. At another period, thou
separated, there were
at in force in the Peninsula—Morti er
Zamora; Killerman, at Vallad ritid;
and St. Cyr, at the blocki Ze of
Sfi
Genera.tociheotn, at Soule,
Z ager
" From the first rifle-shot at the village of (Naos to
the last gun which boomed at Toulouse, over an Quip;,..e,s
grave; from the day on which he resigned his desk. in
Dublin to that on which (having received twelve times
the thanks of Parliament) he took his scat among the
Peers of England, Baron, Viscount, Earl, Marquis, 'Duke
(honour's fountain being quite exhausted), in rig ht
all, at once, his path ryas a plane of continued.
eleva-
tions.'

" And yet—Wellington, Laving diFposed of armies,
bad to encoucter criticism. Home-bred Hanciblis and
civic Scipios now dem,
unced his inactivity, now depre-
et.,d his ravhncBs. Even Londou's traiu-bandF., redo-
lent of Finchley, shot their goose-quill arrows at the
warrior's reputation. tis ith a pen tarnished by the shat-
tered eagle, Wellington rebuked them with a seubni al word

—a single word:—that word was—Victory. H ow it chafes
the blood to think of dolts like these avenging ',;heir surfeits
on a national benefactor! who fasted for them while they
were feasting, and fought for them confederating against
him—who, while they tossed upon their couch of down,
was on his midnight watch, waiting the thunder-clap
which was to wake to battle. But, both obeyed their
mission—the one misusing time, tho other intent on im-
mortslity. Difficult, indeed, is it at this day to credit, ns
it must at all tia:t a have been cisheartening to contem-
plate, the ciiscouragements through which he struggled
to his renown, From the hour or his disembarkcion at
Mondego Bay, to that on which, from the summit of the
Pyrenees, he looked en the lovely land he bad emanci-
-115 "3. t;svo;el (to use his own expres:don) hung over
. ion at home cr(,1,0:n1; t,T its
forelgta dcrucy was at work to luruish
The impediments he had to combat meet us in every
page—somotiraes, as just matter of complaint—