ness and care of his declining health for a-year and a-half, had left her ill prepared to sustain so trying a complaint. But her life was in danger, and in a state of helpless prostration she was removed to Lucan, where six weeks elapsed before she regained her feet. On her return he had been much shaken, and his nervous system appears to have been wholly shattered. We forbear to follow out the slow and wearing succession of indications which he fully understood, and none could mistake, which for a few weeks marked his course. He was sent to the country; and his daughter had purchased a Bath chair, in which he was pushed about the grounds by one of his sons, while she walked by his side. He refused to suffer a servant to perform the task of a horse, and his children gladly took a pious duty on themselves. It was on one of those excursions that he seemed to receive a fright from some noise, and desired to return home. They had reached the house when they perceived him to have become speechless, and immediately sent for medical aid. He never spoke again. But with the exception of some intervals of delirium for a week, he seemed to possess his faculties to the last.

We have endeavoured to convey our estimate of the man in the foregoing pages; if we have failed in this endeavour, we are not likely to repair the defect by any formal summary; nor shall we attempt it. The narrow space at our disposal has only permitted a slight and inadequate selection of the varied information and profuse abundance of documents placed at our disposal by Mrs. Hunter. And we feel that duty yet remains to be fulfilled on a broader scale, both of composition and material; which with God's permission and help shall be performed.

We shall conclude with a slight notice of those unpublished writings to which allusion has been frequently made. The Donnellan lectures consist of a series of discourses preached in the College chapel. They contain a full and connected discussion of the entire series of intimations and promises concerning the coming of Christ, from the beginning till the very period of their actual accomplishment. On this far reaching chain of research, he follows the statement and enunciations of the Sacred record, with as much precision and sagacity, and as little departure from the strict sobriety of probable inference as we ever recollect in any work of profound investigation. Pursuing the several successions of periods, the Patriarchal, the Mosaic, the Kings and the Prophets,-he traces most satisfactorily the harmonious unity of design and of characteristic spirit and significance in the whole. He also marks the divine economy preserved throughout these disclosures, both as to the choice of the times in which they were communicated, and as to the adaptation of their substance to those times ;-proving, for instance, how they came in seasons of affliction or of national depression when adverse events might seem to shut out the possibility of the accomplishment of the national expectations; and still more, demonstrating the uniform growth of the fulness and distinctness of the prophetic indications of the time and characteristics of the Messiah, in proportion as the period drew near. Such is the general scope of these discourses. They are written with the utmost simplicity of a style quite free from that affectation of eloquence so much in use at the time they were composed; all through

manifesting and communicating the deepest interest in the subject. Nor can we, considering the primary importance of their subject, the impressive manner, and the clear and abundant command of the matter, conceive any writing so likely to have been received as important to the Christian church. They did not, indeed, receive from the archbishop the editorial preparations which would have accompanied their delivery to the press. This his devotion to a special part of the same subject, the prophecy of Daniel, prevented; and the remains of his labour on this latter, indicate what his zeal and industry would have effected, and what his scrupulous judgment would still have considered insufficient. In fact, we have before us these lectures as they were first written for the college pulpit, without a note, and scarcely a correction, but strongly imbued with the pervading mind and power of the author, to which we might without flattery apply Bernouilli's praise of Newton ex ungue leonem!

On the subsequent lectures on the Prophecies of Daniel, if we are compelled to speak more doubtfully, it is not from any apprehension that the subject is less ably treated, or that it is deficient in interest. But from the doubts which every one should naturally entertain on any solution of a difficult chronological question which has so long continued to divide and embarrass the wisest and ablest men. We nevertheless must say, that the archbishop's solution appears to us convincing, and fully escapes the great and (as we think), insurmountable objections which occur against Mede, Usher, Marshall, Lloyd, and Newton, and others we have read upon the subject. The archbishop's view is sustained by vast accumulations of the most far-sought materials relative to every point. These materials are also before us, but we have not yet found leisure for the continued and laborious application which would be required to master them. One thing is however clear, that whether the archbishop's solution be true or not, it must, in the present state of the inquiry, have the utmost value to chronology; for, until the point of failure shall have been ascertained, it must at the lowest stand as a valuable piece of research, and, it may be, of approximation; for as all the leading inquirers have hitherto added their respective portions of light, so it is not to be presumed that the long devoted attention and research of the author of The Atonement' can have left no results.

The Rev. Charles Wolfe.

BORN 1791-DIED 1822.

It is a task we would, were it allowed us, most willingly decline, to write a memoir of Wolfe. Were the fame of good and gifted men to bear any real proportion to their powers of mind or worth of character, none could justly claim a larger or fairer canvass than this admirable scholar, poet, and exemplary Christian clergyman. But it pleased the Sovereign Disposer, who acts by laws different from the narrow-sighted views of this world, to take him to himself before his bright genius, confined to a narrow, humble, and laborious sphere of duties, had time

to produce those adequate results, according to which the fame of men is measured in this transitory state of things. It is no slight aggravation of the difficulty we apprehend, that our recollections are those of an acquaintance and friend; and that it is impossible for us to pen a sentence unimpeded by a host of bright and affecting recollections, the shadows of those departed thoughts, with which our readers can have no communion, and which yet will scarcely be shut out or allow us to proceed with the tempered statement which it is our rule to preserve. There is yet a greater difficulty than all, the public has long been in possession of a most deservedly popular memoir, remarkable among such writings for the succinct and yet comprehensive truth with which the author, a college cotemporary and attached friend, has drawn the faithful resemblance of Wolfe. The necessity under which we thus labour, of resorting for the few main facts which we can afford to give to a volume of which nothing can be abridged or altered without injury, cannot but be felt embarrassing. At the same time, for the same reason, we strongly feel, that towards the subject of this notice no debt of memory remains unpaid, and that we may in justice consult the expedient brevity that now more than ever our space requires.

Charles Wolfe was the son of Theobald Wolfe, Esq. of Blackhal', county Kildare. He was born in Dublin, 1791. Among the descendants of his family, Archdeacon Russel reckons the hero of Quebec, and the Lord Chief Justice Kilwarden. Wolfe lost his father early, and was removed with his family to England, where he received the early part of his education at several schools, the last of which was Winchester school, there we are informed by his biographer, he soon distinguished himself by his great proficiency in classical knowledge, and by his early powers of Latin and Greek versification.”

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In 1808 he accompanied his mother to Ireland, and in the following year entered Trinity college under Dr. Davenport. There he rose at once to the highest distinction, obtained all the honours at the disposal of the university, and a still higher distinction by the style in which they were won. In the large circle of his friends, for to be his acquaintance was to love him and to be loved, the moral impression of his character was deep and lively. There was about his entire manner, language, countenance, and minutest act, a spiritual elevation and a buoyant exuberance of all the nobler moral elements of which the effect was never for a moment doubtful. Among his associates some were apparently of stronger intellectual power; and high as was Wolfe's genius, it was not this made him the centre of regard and respect to so many talented and informed men: but these were all more or less clouded by the varied indications of self, which universally lower the tone of human intercourse. Wolfe alone was haloed by a sphere of high and pure enthusiasm, ever turned on all that was good and pure and noble in word or deed, but never reflected upon himself.* And

* In describing the characteristic ardour of Wolfe, Archdeacon Russel gives a just and graphic sketch, to the truth of which we can personally bear witness, and which ought not to be omitted. "Whenever in the company of his friends any thing occurred in his reading, or to his memory, which powerfully affected his imagination, he usually started from his seat, flung aside his chair and paced about the room, giving vent to his admiration in repeated exclamations of delight, and in gestures of the most animated rapture."

there was then too apparent to be overlooked in the composition of his mind, somewhat which may best be expressed in his own words, a "light unseen before ;"-he was not possessed of fluent eloquence, nor was he as prompt in his command of knowledge in conversation as might be supposed; but the deep and pregnant vein of new and beautiful conception ever forced its way, and communicated a charm which clever talk or overflowing erudition never could possess.

During his academic course, Wolfe obtained several prizes for English as well as Latin verse. The verses have been long before the world, and require no critical notice. We shall perhaps find occa

sion for some incidental remarks.

He obtained a scholarship with the highest honour, being, as well as we can now recollect, second on the list, and thereupon took chambers and went to live in college. The same year he was admitted into the Historical Society, where he immediately rose to very prominent distinction in the prepared debate, for the tone of classic elegance which distinguished the few speeches he delivered, as well as for the pure and refined character of conception and reasoning they displayed. He was selected by the auditor* to open a session by the usual address from the chair. A friend who had himself been in the first instance applied to for the same purpose and refused, exerted himself to prevent Wolfe from accepting of this honour, for the same reasons which had actuated himself. It appeared to him that there was much disadvantage in coming forward to address a public assembly upon a topic which had been discussed from the same chair twice a-year; of which the solid facts and standard principles had become, or ought to have become, trite from over-frequent handling, and on which two classes of hearers, and two opposite stages of taste and information were to be conciliated: where rhetorical ornament must win the youthful, and sober precept satisfy the more disciplined;-and in which, above all, an effort thus made doubly difficult was to be made within a very limited interval. These, with other reasons, made a strong impression on the mind of Wolfe; and before he acceded to the request, the auditor had twice remonstrated with the overmeddling friend who would not perform the office himself, nor allow another. Eventually Wolfe undertook the duty, but with (we believe) added disadvantages. At that period of his life he was subject to dilatory fits which were mostly compensated in him by great powers of energetic effort. We are also under the impression that he continued to feel the effect of the discouraging counsel of his adviser. He had not at the time of delivery fully completed his speech, which had probably been composed after the manner of the sybil upon fragmentary leaves: yet, when the time came, he was not found inferior to the ablest of his predecessors, and the gold medal was voted by the unanimous consent of the society. Of this speech the reader may find some remains in Archdeacon Russel's Memoirs, they clearly manifest some of the peculiar powers and qualities of the author. It was during his college life that his poems were written. His heart was full to overflowing of the purest spirit of poetry, and they came from its exuberance,-when the fire kindled, he spoke. He never

* W. Brooke, now an eminent barrister and queen's counsel.

thought of verse-making as an occupation, nor was it his habit to sit down to that deliberate manufacture of poetry, which is the reproach and vanity of the rhyming tribe: and all his (far too few) lyrical effusions breathe the deep feeling and truth of nature with a simplicity of expression, and absence of verbal trick, to which no mere expertness can reach. From this simplicity they appear easier to have been written than they are; ausus idem frustra laboret; but for the same reason they are not likely ever to receive from the crowd the full appreciation of their claim. The vulgar are won by the glare of ornament, or by the exaggerations of passion. The native style of a poet may, it is true, have striking singularities-for this, indeed, is one of the conditions of high poetic power-but it was Wolfe's genius to be true to nature. He had not the elaborate charm of Campbell's melody,--or the refined morgue of Byron, or the unequalled sketching of his magic pencil;— but, in comparison with these, he possessed the (perhaps) rarer gift, which distinguished Burns compared with his cotemporaries, the intense reality of expression, wholly past the reach of art, and derived from a deep communion with the natural affections of the human breast. It may, indeed, have been observed by the reader, that this is the weak point of most poets (good and bad alike), and there is a reason for it worthy of notice. It requires but ordinary power to express the ordinary emotions so far as they commonly find expression,- -so far, indeed, the affections are not properly within the province of poetry, though such are the materials with which tenth-rate dramatists will sometimes "split the ears of groundlings :" these, like the truisms of moral sentimentality, supply the ranting emotions of the rhymester. But there are trains of emotion and states of mind which do not look for language when felt; and which, to a great extent, can find no direct expression: upon these the poet of nature will ever seize. A present reality will awaken thoughts in the dullest mind, which only the power of genius (which is the power of realizing) can reach without that reality: the rustic can weep with all the power of love over the grave of his betrothed; but the poet can mourn from a still deeper and purer fountain over the lady of his imagination. He alone will catch and clothe the passing fantasies of which sorrow is profuse, and which, like the oracles that sleep within the cavern of Trophonius, are only to be known by the initiated, and will not speak in the vulgar tongue. As a striking exemplification of these criticisms, we shall here present the reader with one of Wolfe's songs, which is thus introduced by Mr. Russel. "Another of his favourite melodies was the popular Irish air 'Gramachree.' He never heard it without being sensibly affected by its deep and tender expression; but he thought that no words had ever been written for it, which came up to his idea of the peculiar pathos which pervades the whole strain. He said they all appeared to him to want individuality of feeling. At the desire of a friend he gave his own conception of it in these verses :

If I had thought thou could'st have died,

I might not weep for thee;

But I forgot when by thy side,

That thou could'st mortal be;

* It may be needless to observe, that this is precisely the essential result of the property we have above endeavoured to distinguish.