ich impeached him in 1787; neither is it that
of the House of Commons which uncovered and stood up to receive him in
1813. He had great qualities, and he rendered great services to the
state. But to represent him as a man of stainless virtue is to make him
ridiculous; and from a regard for his memory, if from no other feeling,
his friends would have done well to lend no countenance to such
adulation. We believe that, if he were now living, he would have
sufficient judgment and sufficient greatness of mind to wish to be shown
as he was. He must have known that there were dark spots on his fame. He
might also have felt with pride that the splendor of his fame would bear
many spots. He would have wished posterity to have a likeness of him,
though an unfavorable likeness, rather than a daub at once insipid and
unnatural, resembling neither him nor anybody else. "Paint me as I am,"
said Oliver Cromwell, while sitting to young Lely. "If you leave out the
scars and wrinkles, I will not pay you a shilling." Even in such a
trifle, the great Protector showed both his good sense and his
magnanimity. He did not wish all that was characteristic in his
countenance to be lost, in the vain attempt to give him the regular
features and smooth blooming cheeks of the curl-pated minions of James
the First. He was content that his face should go forth marked with all
the blemishes which had been put on it by time, by war, by sleepless
nights, by anxiety, perhaps by remorse; but with valor, policy,
authority, ind public care written in all its princely lines. If men
truly great knew their own interest, it is thus that they would wish
their minds to be portrayed.

Warren Hastings sprang from an ancient and illustrious race. It has been
affirmed that his pedigree can be traced back to the great Danish
sea-king, whose sails were long the terror of both coasts of the British
Channel, and who, after many fierce and doubtful struggles, yielded at
last to the valor and genius of Alfred. But the undoubted splendor of
the line of Hastings needs no illustration from fable. One branch of
that line wore, in the fourteenth century, the coronet of Pembroke. From
another branch sprang the renowned Chamberlain, the faithful adherent of
the White Rose, whose fate has furnished so striking a theme both to
poets and to historians. His family received from the Tudors the earldom
of Huntingdon, which, after long dispossession, was regained in our time
by a series