The possessors of great talents are always friendly, when treading different walks. In the family of genius, there is a community of feeling. The lyre of the bard might have been strung, to canonize the painter; but the great Disposer had otherwise ordered. The pencil of the painter, rivalling the inspiration of Orpheus, has recalled the Poet from the nations of the dead; embodied his mind; and animated the canvass with his living image.

These instances of posthumous regard, bestowed upon the memory and the family of Mr. Paine, savour, neither of ostentation nor selfishness, and are recorded with sentiments of unmingled pleas

ure.

Having consigned Mr. Paine to the tomb, it is not our design,

To draw his frailties from their dread abode ;

but it will be our endeavour to dispose of his light and shade, in a manner, to afford the strongest · relief to his character.

The stature of Mr. Paine was deceptive. His height was five feet, nine and an half inches; although, apparently, not more than five feet, eight inches. His bones were small; his fibres had little tension; and of course, his muscles but little compactness. His frame and movement indicated an absence of physical power. His hair was sandy

and his complexion light. His forehead was high, remarkably wide, and clearly defined. His eyes were blue, very prominent, but inexpressive, except when he was strongly excited; and his nose was of the common size, slender and angular. His mouth was large, heavy, and sensual; and his lips possessed an uncommon thickness, which extended to a considerable distance from the edges, which were not uncommonly protuberant. The lower part of his face, in character, furnished a striking contrast to the upper; but there was nothing singular in its formation. The tout ensemble was not repulsive; nor could it be said,

Vultus erat multa ac præclara minantis.

Mr. Paine attached great consequence to manners. This sentiment he, probably, early imbibed from the Roman writers, who had no discriminating terms, to express the difference of import, annexed, by us, to morals,and manners. He was modelled upon the old school. Without being familiar, he was easy among friends, and courtly to strangers. In colloquial discussion, he rigidly adhered to the law of politeness; and in mixed society, he neither courted the high, nor avoided the low. Distress never induced him to solicit favours from those, who were abundantly able; and who, probably, would have been willing to have conferred them. Had this salutary principle of

pride pervaded his major, as it did his minor morals, it would have rescued him from ruin. His composition combined the most striking contrarieties; and his life was a continued illustration of the truth of one of his own couplets ;

Nature ne'er meant her secrets should be found; And man's a riddle, which man can't expound. He frequently deplored a supposed decay of manners. With concern, he used to inquire, "In manners, where is the successour of GEN. KNOX to be found?" It was with him a constant topick of complaint, that "the old, genteel, town families, had been elbowed out of house and home, by newcomers;" that "instead of the polished manners of a city, we should soon exhibit that growth of gentility, which is produced by ingrafting dollars upon village habits and low employments. There is as wide a difference," said he "between the old school and the new, as there was between the polished ease of the reign of Augustus, and the rude turbulence of the epoch of the Gracchi."

In the varied powers of conversation, Mr. Paine particularly excelled. With the operation of the passions; the modes of artificial life; and the general laws of human nature; he was well acquainted. He had learned the history and use of those branches of knowledge, which he had not attentively cultivated. This not only answered the purposes of oral communication; but of poetic

allusion and illustration. He had scarcely witnessed a scene, from which, he had not selected a metaphor; drawn a simile; or constructed an allegory. His narration conformed to the canons of criticism, for the fable and structure of a poem. He rarely confined himself to a dull recital of facts; but interspersed his narrative, with pertinent reflections; adorned it with brilliant allusions; and frequently indulged in animated episodes, which he always highly embellished. His transitions,

From grave to gay; from lively to severe,

were rapid and unexpected. When kindled by sympathy, excited by collision, or roused from opposition, he enlivened, delighted, and astonished, for successive hours. Once engaged, he was an electric battery; approach him, and he scintillated; touch him, and he emitted a blaze.

We will select a few instances of that spontaneous flow of thought, which was "wont to set the table on a roar." He rarely quitted a convivial party, without having said some, perhaps many things, as memorable as any which are recollected.

When the opposition to the erection of the theatre was overcome, he remarked, "The Vandal spirit of puritanism is prostrate in New-England." The first time that he dined at his father's, after their reconciliation, his toast was requested, and he gave, "The love of liberty, and the liberty of

loving." There was an alarm of fire, when he was playing whist, at Concert Hall. A gentleman observed, that the fire was near Dr. Lathrop's, as there was a luminous reflection from the steeple of his meeting-house. Without the least diversion from his game, he said, "The splendour of the church always depends upon the distress of the citizen." A volume of ecclesiastic history, in a single sentence! A client, of Titanian size, was in his office; his visage was dark, furrowed, and shining with perspiration. When he retired, Paine exclaimed, "That fellow's countenance is the eastern aspect of the Alps, at sunrise ;-alternate splendour and gloom-ridges of sunshine and cavities of shade." In a political discussion, which was conducted with warmth, he said, of the Essex Junto, "Washington was its sublime head, and the tower of its strength; it was informed by the genius, and guided by the energy of Hamilton. Since their decease, nothing, but the attic salt of Fisher Ames, has preserved it from putrefaction. When the ethereal spirits escaped, the residuum settled into faction. It has captured Boston, and keeps it in tow, like a prize ship."* Dining one day, with a

*Not to make an apology, but to exonerate Mr. Paine, from a momentary vaccillation in his political principles, we would observe, that this remark was made in the summer of 1807, after the attack of the British ship of war, Leopard, upon the American frigate, Chesapeak. At this period, certain journalists, essayists, and pamphleteers, against the most clearly