ever, seems to have been felt by the country at these measures; the Peninsular war proceeded successfully; but the arbitrary commitment of Sir Francis Burdett to the Tower upon a futile charge of having violated the privilege of Parliament, raised a popular commotion of ominous import, which was in no degree abated by the contentions resulting from the King's derangement, and the revived altercations respecting the establishment of a Regency. Upon these questions, and, indeed, upon all others issuing out of the circumstances which have already been alluded to in this sketch, Mr. Perceval took a conspicuous part; and eagerly vindicated the conduct of the government, as well as the principles upon which it acted, with unqualified approbation. That conduct, however, was in many instances corrupt; those principles were generally illiberal; and no light misfortunes were brought upon the country, by the one and the other. The public burthens were enormously increased, the revenue suffered from repeated defalcations, and the character of the nation was advanced by no sufficient advantages, while its comforts were improved by no salutary concessions.

Nevertheless, Mr. Perceval's administration appeared to be energetically founded, and no speedy change of measures or men were apprehended. The policy of persevering in a most expensive warfare, and the propriety of resisting all domestic innovations, seemed to be firmly confirmed, when a melancholy termination was suddenly put to his career, and his life. On the 11th of May, 1812, he repaired to the House of Commons, and had passed through the folding doors of the lobby, when a pistol was discharged against him by a man named Bellingham. The ball penetrated into the heart; he expired in a few moments; and his murderer was hung at Newgate within a week. For this act, of which the criminality is only equalled by its infatuation, Mr. Perceval offered no provocation, and Bellingham gave the following justification. He had been involved in some mercantile difficulties in Russia, which were followed up by an arbitrary imprisonment for the term of two years. He claimed, but failed to obtain redress at the hands of the British Ambassador, and returned home, broken in fortune, to petition for compensation from his own government. He importuned various ministers with

remonstrances, but urged no consideration upon which they felt justified in relieving him. He had formerly been afflicted with insanity, and a phrenzy seems now again to have seized him, for he took the outrageous resolution of revenging his own misfortunes by taking away the life of a fellow-creature.

Much consternation, and a deep sympathy, were excited by this tragical offence; and while the public concern was fully vivid, a very liberal provision was made for the family of the fallen minister, and the most respectful tributes were paid to his me'mory. In private life he was a most exemplary man, and, when thus removed from the animosities incidental to a public character, all parties concurred in a panegyric upon his virtues, and condolence for his loss. A pension of 20007. a-year was granted to his widow, another of 10007. was given to his eldest son, which was to be increased to 20007. upon the death of his mother, and 50,000l. were settled upon eleven younger children. A monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey was the last subject respecting him to which the House of Commons devoted its attention. It stands preserved in one of the windows of the north aisle, and is well designed and executed, by Westmacott, R.A.; but, in the allegorical style. An effigy of the unfortu nate minister is introduced upon a mattrass, with a statue of Power, indicated by the fasces, weeping over him, and figures of Truth and Temperance, the one distinguished by a bridle, and the other by a mirror, erect at his feet. Along the back-ground runs an animated scene in basso-relievo, descriptive of the lobby of the House of Commons at the moment of his fall: it is evidently a good performance; but who can avoid regretting that this, which is a principal, should here be converted into a secondary illustration of the death of the subject?

JOHN PHILIPS.

ADJOINING the tomb of Chaucer, in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey, is a bust, in profile, of this poet, wreathed with vines and apple-trees, and inscribed with that motto from Virgil-This apple too shall bear its honours,' which is prefixed to the poem on Cider. It was erected by Sir Simon, afterwards Earl Harcourt, and Lord High Chancellor of England, and has been particularly commended by the classical critics, for the elegant Latinity in which it is expressed. This merit, however, is, in many places, of that description which, by necessity, is limited to the language in which it occurs: no translation can convey mere felicity of idiom, and the epitaph on Philips is on that account not rendered into English in these pages. A faithful version would only detract from the reputation it has borne; for, turned into another tongue, several passages must sound redundant and inelegant. Still, by the scholar it will be read with a double interest: first, because it is the composition of Bishop Atterbury, celebrated as the friend of Pope, and memorable for his banishment during the ministry of Sir Robert Walpole; and secondly, because it seems to have been copied by Dr. Johnson in his inscription for the monumental tablet to Goldsmith. The borrowed passage is transcribed, and may, like most originals, be remarked for its superiority above the imitation from it. After mentioning that in his style of writing, Philips was second only to Milton, and nearly equal to him, the epitaph goes on to state-that, whether he undertook to adorn a subject, trifling, grand, or common, he never perceived, or reached what did not become him; and wherever he employed his pen, was AN AUTHOR OF SPEECH, AND FRAMER OF NUMBERS ALWAYS