SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.

JAMES MACKINTOSH was the son of a captain in the British army, and was born at Aldourie, near Inverness, in Scotland, on the 24th of October, 1765. He was very early remarkable for his love of reading, making it his constant employment, whether at home or abroad, and being accustomed, when a mere child, to take his book and dinner with him into the wild hills around his father's residence, where he gave up the whole day in some secluded nook to his favorite employment.

At the age of ten, he was sent to a boarding-school at a small town called Fortrose, where he soon made such proficiency in his studies that "the name of Jamie Mackintosh was synonymous, all over the country side, with a prodigy of learning." He early assisted his instructor in teaching the younger boys, and before he reached his thirteenth year, he showed a singular love of politics and extemporaneous speaking. "It was at this period," says his instructor, the Reverend Mr. Wood, "that Fox and North made such brilliant harangues on the American war. Jamie espoused the cause of liberty, and called himself a Whig; and such was his influence among his school-fellows, that he prevailed on some of the older ones, instead of playing at ball, and such out-of-door recreations, to join him in the school-room during the hours of play, and assist at debates in what they called the House of Commons, on the political events of the day. When Jamie ascended the rostrum, he harangued until his soprano voice failed him. One day he was Fox, another Burke, or some leading member of the Opposition; and when no one ventured to reply to his arguments, he would change sides for the present, personate North, and endeavor to combat what he conceived to be the strongest parts of his own speech. When I found out this singular amusement of the boys," adds Mr. Wood, "I had the curiosity to listen when Jamie was on his legs. I was greatly surprised and delighted with his eloquence in the character of Fox, against some supposed or real measure of the minister. His voice, though feeble, was musical, and his arguments so forcible that they would have done credit to many an adult."

At the age of fifteen he was placed at King's College, Aberdeen, and at once showed his predilection for those abstract inquiries in which he spent so large a part of his life. Though a mere boy, his favorite books were Priestley's Institutes of Nat ural and Revealed Religion, Beattie on Truth, and Warburton's Divine Legation which last delighted him, as he stated in after life, more than any book he ever read He soon after made the acquaintance of Robert Hall, then a student at Aberdeen, who was deeply interested in the same pursuits, and though both were diligent in their classical studies, they gave their most strenuous and unwearied labors to a joint improvement in philosophy. They read together; they sat side by side at lecture; they were constant companions in their daily walks. In the classics, they united in reading much of Xenophon and Herodotus, and more of Plato; and so far did they carry it, says the biographer of Hall, that, "exciting the admiration of some and the envy of others, it was not unusual for their class-fellows to point at them and say, 'There go Plato and Herodotus! But the arena in which they most frequently met was that of morals and metaphysics. After having sharpened their weapons by reading, they often repaired to the spacious sands on the sea-shore, and, still more frequently, to the picturesque scenery on the banks of the Don, above the old town

to discuss with eagerness the various subjects to which their attention had been di rected. There was scarcely an important position in Berkeley's Minute Philosopher, in Butler's Analogy, or in Edwards on the Will, over which they had not thus de bated with the utmost intensity. Night after night, nay, month after month, they met only to study or dispute, yet no unkindly feeling ensued. The process seemed rather, like blows in the welding of iron, to knit them more closely together." From this union of their studies, and the discussions which ensued, Sir James afterward declared himself to have "learned more than from all the books he ever read;" while Mr. Hall expressed his opinion throughout life, that Sir James "had an intcllect more like that of Bacon than any person of modern times."

Having taken his degree of Bachelor of Arts at the age of nineteen, Mr. Mackintosh repaired to Edinburgh in 1784, and commenced the study of medicine. Here he was soon received as a member of the Speculative Society, an association for debate which then exerted a powerful influence over the University, and was the means of training some of the most distinguished speakers which Scotland has ever produced. In this exciting atmosphere, his early passion for extemporaneous speaking, in connection with his subsequent habits of debate, gained the complete ascendency; so that, although his medical studies were not wholly neglected, a large part of his time was given to those miscellaneous subjects which would furnish topics for the Society, and that desultory reading and speculation in which he always delighted. After four years spent at Edinburgh, Mr. Mackintosh went to London in 1788, with a view to medical practice, but found no immediate prospect of business, and but little encouragement for the future. His father died about this time, leaving him a very scanty patrimony; and, as he married soon after, without adding to his property, he was driven, like Burke in early life, to the public press for the means of support. He wrote from the first with uncommon force and elegance, and was thus introduced to the acquaintance of some distinguished literary men, chiefly of the extreme Whig party. He was much in the society of Horne Tooke, and found great delight in the rich, lively, and sarcastic conversation of that extraordinary man ; while Tooke, though jealous, and sparing of praise, was so struck with his talents for argument, that he declared him a very formidable adversary across a table." He now took to the study of the law in connection with his labors for the press, and never, probably, were his exertions greater or better directed than at this time, or more conducive to his intellectual improvement. Desultory reading and speculation without any definite object, were the bane of his life; but he was now held to his daily task, and, under the pressure of want, the encouragement of his friends, and the kindling delight which he felt in high literary excellence, he was daily forming those habits of rich and powerful composition for which he was afterward so much distinguished.

In 1791 he published his first great work, the "Vindicia Gallicæ," or "Defense of the French Revolution against the accusations of the Right Honorable Edmund Burke." It was a daring attempt for a young man of twenty-six to enter the lists with such an opponent, celebrated beyond any man of the age for his powers as a writer, and regarded as an oracle by nearly all among the middling and higher classes, who looked with horror and dismay at the Revolution which this unknown adventurer came forward to defend. Not to have failed utterly in such an attempt was no mean praise. But he did more. He brought to the work an honest and dauntless enthusiasm; a large stock of legal and constitutional learning; a style which, though inferior in richness to that of his great antagonist, was not only elegant and expressive, but often keen and trenchant; and his success was far beyond his most sanguine expectations. Three editions were called for in rapid succession; Mr. Fox quoted the work with applause in the House of Commons; and even Mr

Burke, who had been treated by Mr. Mackintosh with the respect due to his great talents, spoke of its spirit and execution in the kindest terms. Mr. Canning, who was accustomed, at that period, to treat every thing that favored the Revolution with ridicule or contempt, told a friend that he read the book, on its first coming out," with as much admiration as he had ever felt."

The Revolution turned out very differently, in most respects, from what Mr. Mackintosh had hoped, and he saw reason to change some of the opinions expressed in this work. He afterward made the acquaintance of Mr. Burke, and remarked, in a letter to him, about four years after, "For a time I was seduced by what I thought liberty, and ventured to oppose, without ever ceasing to venerate, that writer who had nourished my understanding with the most wholesome principles of political wisdom. Since that time a melancholy experience has undeceived me on many subjects in which I was then the dupe of my own enthusiasm. I can not say (and you would despise me if I dissembled) that I can even now assent to all your opinions on the present politics of Europe.' But I can with truth affirm that I subscribe to your general principles, and am prepared to shed my blood in defense of the laws and Constitution of my country."

In the latter part of 1795, Mr. Mackintosh was called to the bar, and in 1799 he formed the plan of giving lectures on the Law of Nature and of Nations. The subject was peculiarly suited to his philosophical cast of mind, and had long occupied his attention. Being in want of a hall for the purpose, he asked the Benchers of Lincoln's Inn to grant him the use of theirs; and when some demur was made on account of the sentiments expressed in his Vindicia Gallicæ, he printed the Introductory Lecture as a prospectus of the course. It was truly and beautifully said by Thomas Campbell, "If Mackintosh had published nothing else than this Discourse, he would have left a perfect monument of his intellectual strength and symmetry; and even supposing that essay had been recovered only imperfect and mutilated-if but a score of its consecutive sentences could be shown, they would bear a testimony to his genius as decided as the bust of Theseus bears to Grecian art among the Elgin marbles." The Lord Chancellor [Loughborough], ashamed of the delay among the Benchers, interposed decisively, and procured the use of the hall; and the Prime Minister, Mr. Pitt," always liberally inclined," as one of his opponents in politics has described him, wrote a private letter to Mr. Mackintosh, saying, "The plan you have marked out appears to me to promise more useful instruction and just reasoning on the principles of government than I have ever met with in any treatise on the subject." The lectures now went forward, and Lincoln's Inn Hall was daily filled with an auditory such as never before met on a similar occasion. Lawyers, members of Parliament, men of letters, and gentlemen from the country, crowded the seats; and the Lord Chancellor, who, from a pressure of public business, was unable to attend, received a full report of each lecture in writing, and was loud in their praise.

In such a course of lectures the name of Grotius could not fail to have a promnent place, and the reader will be delighted with the following sketch of his character, which has rarely, if ever, been equaled by any thing of the kind in our language. "So great is the uncertainty of posthumous reputation, and so liable is the fame, even of the greatest men, to be obscured by those new fashions of thinking and writing which succeed each 1 Mr. Mackintosh here refers to Mr. Burke's views respecting the war with France, which he openly condemned in opposition to Mr. Burke; nor did he ever agree with him on a number of points mentioned in the sketch of Mr. Burke in this volume, p. 231. His change consisted mainly in withdrawing his defense of the Revolution as actually conducted, and agreeing with Mr. Burke that the nation was not prepared for liberty.

• When Mr. Mackintosh visited Paris during the peace of Amiens, some of the French literati to whom he was introduced complimented him on his defense of their Revolution. "Gentlemen aid he, in reply, "since that time you have entirely refuted me!"

other so rapidly among polished nations, that Grotius, who filled so large a space in the eyes of his cotemporaries, is now, perhaps, known to some of my readers only by name. Yet, if we fairly estimate both his endowments and his virtues, we may justly consider him as one of the most memorable men who have done honor to modern times. He combined the discharge of the most important duties of active and public life with the attainment of that exact and various learning which is generally the portion only of the recluse student. He was distinguished as an advocate and a magistrate, and he composed the most valuable works on the law of his own country. He was almost equally celebrated as a historian, a scholar, a poet, and a divine; a disinterested statesman, a philosophical lawyer, a patriot who united moderation with firmness, and a theologian who was taught candor by his learning. Unmerited exile did not damp his patriotism; the bitterness of controversy did not extinguish his charity. The sagacity of his numerous and fierce adversaries could not discover a blot on his character; and in the midst of all the hard trials and galling provocations of a turbulent political life, he never once deserted his friends when they were unfor tunate, nor insulted his enemies when they were weak. In times of the most furious civil and religious faction he preserved his name unspotted, and he knew how to reconcile fidelity to his cwn party with moderation toward his opponents."

The Introductory Lecture closed in the following beautiful manner :

"I know not whether a philosopher ought to confess that, in his inquiries after truth, he is biased by any consideration, even by the love of virtue; but I, who conceive that a real philosopher ought to regard truth itself chiefly on account of its subserviency to the happiness of man kind, am not ashamed to confess that I shall feel a great consolation at the conclusion of these lectures if, by a wide survey and an exact examination of the conditions and relations of human nature, I shall have confirmed but one individual in the conviction that justice is the permanent interest of all men, and of all commonwealths. To discover one new link of that eternal chain, by which the Author of the universe has bound together the happiness and the duty of his creatures, and indissolubly fastened their interests to each other, would fill my heart with more pleasure than all the fame with which the most ingenious paradox ever crowned the most ingenious sophist."

Mr. Mackintosh now devoted himself to his profession with the most flattering prospects of success; but his thoughts were soon after directed to a judicial station, either in Trinidad or India, which he had the prospect of obtaining, and which he considered as more suited to his habits and cast of mind. While this matter was pending, he made his celebrated speech in favor of M. Peltier, which is given in this collection. The case was a singular one. Peltier was a French royalist, who resided in London, and published a newspaper in the French language, in which he spoke with great severity of Bonaparte, then First Consul of France. It would seem hardly possible that a man like Bonaparte could feel the slightest annoyance at such attacks; but it is said to have been the weak point in his character, and that he was foolishly sensitive on this subject. At all events, as the two countries were then at peace, he made a formal demand of the English ministry to punish Peltier for " a libel on a friendly government." A prosecution was accordingly commenced, and Mr. Mackintosh, in defending Peltier, was brought into the same dilemma with that of Demosthenes in his Oration for the Crown. Equity was on his side, but the law was against him; and his only hope (as in the case of Demosthenes) was that of pre-occupying the minds of the jury with a sense of national honor and public justice, and bearing them so completely away by the fervor of his eloquence, as to obtain a verdict of acquittal from their feelings, without regard to the strict demands of law. His theme was the freedom of the English press-its right and duty to comment on the crimes of the proudest tyrants; and he maintained (with great appearance of truth) that the real object of Bonaparte, after destroying every vestige of free discussion throughout the Continent, was to silence the press of England as to his conduct and designs. He told the jury, after dwelling on the extinction of the liberty of the press abroad, "One asylum of free discussion is still inviolate. There is still one spot in Europe where man can freely exercise his reason on the most important concerns of society-where he can boldly publish his judgment on the acts of the proudest and most powerful tyrants. The press of England is still free. It is guarded by the free Constitution of our forefathers; it is guarded by the hearts and arms of Englishmen; and I trust I may venture to say, that if it be to fall, it wil

fall only under the ruins of the British empire. It is an awful consideration, gen tlemen: every other monument of European liberty has perished: that ancient fabric, which has been gradually reared by the wisdom and virtue of our fathers, still stands. It stands (thanks be to God!) solid and entire; but it stands alone, and it stands amid ruins." Still, as the law was, the jury felt bound to convict Peltier.

We have hardly any thing in our eloquence conceived in a finer spirit, or carried out in a loftier tone of sentiment and feeling, than the appeals made in this oration. It would have been just as sure to succeed before an Athenian tribunal, as that of Demosthenes to fail in an English court of law. Lord Erskine was present during its delivery, and before going to bed addressed the following note to Mr. Mackintosh :

DEAR SIR,-I can not shake off from my nerves the effect of your powerful and most wonderful speech, which so completely disqualifies you for Trinidad or India. I could not help saying to myself, as you were speaking, 'O terram illam beatam quæ hunc virum acciperit, hanc ingratam si ejiterit, miseram si amiserit." I perfectly approve the verdict, but the manner in which you opposed it I shall always consider as one of the most splendid monuments of genius, literature, and eloquence. 'Yours ever, T. ERSKINE."

When the speech was published, Mr. Mackintosh sent a copy to his friend Robert Hall, and soon after received a letter, containing, among other things, the following passage: Accept my best thanks for the trial of Peltier, which I read, so far as your part in it is concerned, with the highest delight and instruction. I speak my sincere sentiments when I say, it is the most extraordinary assemblage of whatever is most refined in address, profound in political and moral speculation, and masterly in eloquence, which it has ever been my lot to read in the English language."

A few months after, Mr. Mackintosh was appointed Recorder of Bombay, and at the same time received the honors of knighthood. He arrived in India about the middle of 1804, and spent eight years in that country, devoting all the time he could gain from the duties of the bench to the more congenial pursuits of literature. He wrote several interesting pieces during this period, and particularly a sketch of Mr. Fox's character, which will be found below, and which has always been regarded as one of the best delineations ever given of that distinguished statesman. His appointment to India was, on the whole, injurious to his intellectual growth. He needed beyond most men to be kept steadily at work, under the impulse of great objects and strong motives urging him to the utmost exertion of his powers. Had he remained at the bar, he might have surpassed Erskine in learning, and rivaled him in skill as an advocate, while his depth and amplitude of thought would have furnished the richest materials for every occasion that admitted of eloquence. But he now relapsed into his old habits of desultory reading and ingenious speculation. He projected a number of great works, and labored irregularly in collecting materials; but his health sunk under the enervating effects of the climate, and he returned to England at the end of eight years, disappointed in his expectations and depressed in spirit, bringing with him a vast amount of matter for books which were never to be completed.

So highly were his talents appreciated, that immediately after his return in 1812, he was offered a seat in the House of Commons by the government, and also by his old Whig friends. He chose the latter, and continued true to liberal principles to the end of his days.

The words are taken from the peroration of Cicero's oration for Milo, in which he deplores the exile which must befall his client if he loses his cause.

Happy the land that shall receive him! Ungrateful the country that shall cast him out! miser able if she finally lose him!