« PreviousContinue »
the illu“strious-character, whom we all deplo're—I shall, I can say/ bu't litt'le. A long interval must take place between the heavy blo'w/ which has been struʼck, and the consideration of its effect, before a'ny-one, (and how ma'ny are th'ere !) of those/ who have revered and lov‘ed Mr. Fox, as I hav'e-done, can speak of his de'ath/ with the fe’eling, but ma‘nly compo'sures, which becomes the dignified regret it ought to inspi're.—To say any thing to you at this' moment/, in the fresh hour of your unburthened soʻrrows—to depi'ct, to dwe'll/ upon the great tra'its of his cha'racter-must be un'necessary, and/ almo'st/insu'lting. His i’mage/ still lives before your eyes_his vir'tues/ are in your he'arts—his loʻss is your despa'ir. I have see'n/ in a public pri'nt, what are stated to have been his laʼst-words—and they are tru'ly-stated. They were the'se — “I di'e hap'py.” Th’en, (turning to the more immediate o'bjects of his pri'vate-affections,) he ad’ded, “ but/ I pity yoʻu.” Gen’tlemen, this statement is precisely true. But Oh'! if the solemn/ feet'ing-hour had allowed of such considerations, and/ if the unassuming nature of his dignified mi'nd/ had not withh'eld-him, whic'h of will allow his title to have sa'id, (not only to the sharers of his domestic-love, han'ging in mute despa'ir upon his c'ouch) —“I pity yoou;" but/ prophe'tically/ to have ad'ded, “ I pity En ́gland— I pity Eu'rope — I pity human nature !” — He died in the spirit of pea'ce; tra'nquil in his own expiring he'art, and che'rishing to the la'st, (with a parental solicitude,) the consoling hoʻpe/ that he should be able to give established tra'nquillity/ to harassed, contending-nations. Let us tru'st, that that stroke of death/ which has borne him fro'm-us, may not have left the peace of the wor'ld, and the civilized charities of ma'n, as orp'hans upon the e'arth! With su'ch-a-man, to have battled in the cause of genuine li'berty — with su'ch a m'an, to have strugglèd against the inroads of oppression and corru'ption -- with such an ex'ample befoʻre me, to have to bo‘ast/ that I ne’ver in my life/ gave one vote-in-parliament/ that wa's not on the side of fre’edom, is the congratulation, that attends the restrospect of my pu'blic-life. His frie'ndship/ was the pr'ide and hoʻnour of my days. I ne'ver, for on'e-moment, regretted to share with-him the difficulties, the ca'lumnies, and/ soometimes even the daîngers, that attended his hoʻnourable-life. And no'w, revie'wing my påst political con'duct, (were the option poʻssible that I should re-tread the path,) I so'lemnly and deliberately decl'are, that I would purs'ue the same cou'rse
- bea'r-up/ under the same pre'ssure - ab'ide/ by the same pr’inciples—and remain by his side, an ex'ile from po'wer, disti'nction, and emo'lument ! If I have missed the opportunity of obtaining a'll the sup'port/ I might, perhaps, have had, on the present occassion, (from a very scrupulous d'elicacy, which I think became, and was incu'mbent-upon-me)
- I ca'nnot repe'nt it! In so do'ing, I acted on the fee'lings/ upon wh'ich/ I am sensible/ all tho'se would have ac'ted) who loved Mr. Fo'x as I'-did. I fe'lt/ within myse'lfs, th'at/ while the slig'htest-aspiration might still quiver on those li'ps, that were the copious-channels of e'loquence, wi'sdom, and bene'volence --thʼat, while on'e-drop of life's-blood might still war'm tha'theart, which throbbed only for the go'od-of-mankind—I shou'ld not, I could not/ have acted o’therwise.
There is/ in true frie’ndship/ this'-advantage, that the inferior mind, looks to the presiding in'tellect, as its gui'de and landmark/ while living, and to the engraven memory of his pr'inciples/ as a rule of conduct/ after his de’ath! Yet farther sti'll, (unmixed with any idle supers’tition, there may be gained a salutary le’sson/ from contemplating/ what would be grateful to the mind of the departed, were he con'scious of what is passing he're. I do solemnly belie've, tha't could suc'h-a-consideration/ have entered into Mr. Fox's last moʻments
there is nothing his wasted spirits/ would so have de'precated, as a con test of the n'ature, which I now deprecate and relinquish.
Ge’ntlemen ! the ho'ur is not far dis'tant, when an awful kn'ell shall te'll-you, that/ the unburied rema'ins of your revered pa'triot/ are passing through your streets, to that sepu'lchralhome, where your kin'gs — your
your sa 'ges — and your po'ets, will be bo‘noured by an associa'tion with hi'smortal-remains. At that ho'ur/ when the sad sole'mnity shall take place, (in a pri'vate-way, as more suited to the simple di'gnity of his cha'racter, than the splendid gau'diness of public pageantry ;) when yoʻu, (a'll of yoʻu,) shall be se'lf-marshalled in reverential so'rrow--mute, and reflecting on your mi’ghtyloss — at that moment/ shall the disgusting contest of an election-wran'gle/ break the solem'nity of su'ch-a-scene? Is it fitting that a'ny-man/ should overlook the crisis, and risk the mo'nstrous and disgu'sting contest ? Is it fitting that I should be tha't-man ?
EULOGY ON MR. SHERIDAN.*
ANONYMOUS. Mr. SHE'RIDAN IS NO MO'RE !—What a vo'lume is included in these few wor’ds, even when they are appli'ed to the hu'mblest-in'dividual! The loss of father, or so'n, of hi'm/ who was the stay and support of decli'ning-age/ or fee'ble-youth ! whose cou'nsels gu'ided, whose affe°ctions gla^ddened the little circle aroʻund-him! All this mi'nd, all this heʻart, to be mu'te and mo'tionless and duạmb for e’ver! B’ut/ when a She`ridan is withdrawn fro'm us— the maʼster-mind, the maoster-genius! talents/ which have ado'rned and dig'nified the country in which he was bor'n, and the a'ge/ in which he lived—the first statesman, the first or'ator, the first po'et, the first woit — when such a man is ta ken-from-us, what a vas't-chasm ! what an irreparable lo'ss! That so much ge'nius, that so much miond/
To Mr. She'ridan/ belonged every kind of intellectual ex'cellence—he' cultivated every species of li'terature, and he cultivated no'ne/ wh‘ich he did not ad'orn.
As a dramatic wri'ter, forty year's have elapsed since the Schoʻol-for-Scandal was brough't out,/ and yet what writer has produced an'y-comedy/ to be put in competition with it? Who has esqualled The Cr'itic?" As a Po'et, who has surpassed the Mo'nody on the dea'th of Gar'rick ? As an oʻrator (with the exception of Pitt and Bur'ke), who exce'lled him ?
He had stren’gth without coa'rseness, li'veliness without frivo'lity; he was boʻld, but de'xterous in his atta'cks -- not easily repe’lled, but whe'n-repelled, effecting his retr'eat in good or'der. Often sev'ere—much oftener wi'tty, and gʻay, and graceful — disentan'gling what was conf'used - enli'vening what was du'll — very cle'ar in his arran'gement- very compreheʼnsive in his vi'ews ;— flashing upon his he’arers/ with such a bu’rst of bri'lliancy ! when no other-speaker/ was list'ened-to, he could arrest and chain down the me'mbers/ to their se’ats--all hanging upon him with the most eager attention
* This eulogium was written in 1816, immediately after the death of this unrivalled wit and most commanding and captivating orator, but unfortunate and neglected man !-He had attained the age of 65.
-a'll fixed in won'der and delight; h'e never ti'red—he could ada'pt hims'elf (more than any oʻther-man,) to all min’ds, and to all capacities :-“ From gra've to gʻay, from li'vely to sever'e.” Every quality of an oʻrator/ was uni'ted-in-him--the mi'ndthe e'ye, (qui'ck, spa’rkling, pene'trating, match'less-almost/ for bri'lliancy and expr'ession) — the att'itude, the ge'sture, the voic'e. Mr. Pi'tt/ had more di'gnity, more copiousness, more gra'sp, more s'arcasm. Bu't, in rich'ness of i'magery, he was infe'rior to She'ridan, who had n'o supe'rior bu't Burke.* He was less powerful and commanding in argument/ than Mr. Fo'x, but th'is was the only advantage Mr. Fo'x/ had o'ver him. As an oʻrator, we should place him after Pi'tt and Bu'rke. A friend to the li'berty of the pr'ess, he was a'rdent, u’niform, sin'cere. He never relaxed in his effoʻrts : he was not one of thoʻse/ who would disguise their fe'ars of its po'wer/ under affec'ted-apprehensions/ of its liceụntiousness; he knew that every gre'at-institution ha's its defe'cts: he did not wish to cut down the tr'ee/ because of an excres'cence/ on one of its bra'nches.
From political li'fe/ he had been lo'ng withdra'wn. His re. tire'ment was un'willing, and he had not in it the comforts/ that should ac'company-retirement. We fear that he had not even per'sonal-security; and that gri'ef/ may have had no small share/ in withdrawing from our sph'ere so sple'ndid a lu'minary, the last of that constellation of gre’at-men, who rendered the se'nate of Gr'eat-Britain moʻre-illustrious/ than the se'nates/ either of A'thens, or of Ro'me.
CELA'S DESCRIPTION OF A COMET.
Hogy,—(The Ettrick Shepherd.)+
you А nursery
of intellect for those
* Mr. Burke, who has been designated “the saviour his country, was born in Dublin, and died in London in 1797, aged 67, regretted, if not beloved, by all parties.
† The “ Ettrick Shepherd,” James Hogg, whose“ Queen's Wake" and Pilgrims of the Sun” will outlive this generation, died, esteemed and respected by a large circle of friends, in 1835, aged 59.
Where matter lives not. Like these other worlds
and ages, down the wastes of night