in which, while seeking to vindicate himself from the charges against his
_morale_, he in reality glories in his shame. His sudden celebrity had
perhaps acted as a glare of light, revealing faults that might have been
overlooked in an obscure person. With his dissipation, too, there mingled
some elements of generosity and compassion, as in the story told of him
by Charles Johnson in his "Chrysal" of the poet succouring a poor
starving girl of the town, whom he met in the midnight streets,--an
incident reminding one of the similar stories told of Dr Johnson, and
Burke, and realising the parable of the good Samaritan. Yet his conduct
on the whole could not be defended.

His next poem was "The Ghost," which he published in parts, and continued
at intervals. It was a kind of rhymed diary or waste-book, in which he
deposited his every-day thoughts and feelings, without any order or
plan,--reminding us of "Tristram Shandy" or of "Don Juan," although not
so whimsically delightful as the former, nor so brilliant and poignant as
the latter.

But now, in 1762, the Poet was to degrade or to sublimate into the
Politician, at the bidding of that gay magician, Jack Wilkes. That this
man was much better than a clever and pre-eminently lucky scoundrel, is
now denied by few. He had, indeed, immense _pluck_ and convivial
pleasantry, with considerable learning and talent. But he had no
principle, no character, little power of writing, and did not even
possess a particle of that mob eloquence which seduces multitudes. His
depravities and vices were far too gross even for that gross age. In the
very height of his reputation for patriotism, he was intriguing with the
ministry for a place for himself. And he became in his latter days, as
Burke had predicted (for we strongly suspect that Burke wrote the words
in "Junius"), "a silent senator," sate down "infamous and