THE MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH LIVES OF MEN DISTINGUISHED IN THE RECENT HISTORY OF ENGLAND FOR THEIB TALENTS, VIBTDES, OR ACHIEVEMENT! W. C. TAYLOR, LL.D., OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, AUTHOR OF " A MANUAL OF ANCIENT AND MODERN HISTORY," ETC., ETC. NEW YOR K.- HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 82 CLIFF STREET. 184 6. *ts- PREFACE. When the plan of this work was proposed to the Author by the Publishers, he felt that it was likely to supply a deficiency which he had him- self experienced. Intelligent young persons hear names, " familiar as household words" to their parents, but of which they themselves know nothing ; for we all have a habit of speaking of the events with which we were cotemporary, or nearly so, as if they had the same notoriety for the young that they have for the old. This was the case with a beloved and affectionate child, whose inquiring mind led him frequently to ask for some particulars about the eminent men whose names he heard in the course of casual conversation. He felt a deep interest in the progress of the work ; but it pleased Providence to remove him to another and a better world, before the volume was com- pleted. It is sometimes forgotten that the eminent men who have departed from the stage of life within our memory, though they cease not to be cotemporaries for us, have become historical per- sonages for our children, and that they require to be informed of all that we remember. Impressed with these views, the Author was induced to select the biographies of such men in the past and passing generation, as appeared to have had most influ- ence in moulding the opinions and shaping^ the destinies of the British people. )V PREFACE. The limited space assigned to each biography compelled the Compiler to select only the most salient traits of character, and to dwell only on such events as had a public and historical impor- tance. In describing the career of statesmen, he has been careful to abstain from any manifestation of political bias or party feeling, and has therefore avoided giving any opinion on questions that yet remain w^ithin the arena of controversy. He has been more anxious to set forth facts as a narrator, than to set himself up as a dictator to the judg- ment, or even a guide to opinion. The list of the biographies will itself explain the principle on which the selection has been made. It is probable that some may complain of omis- sions, and others object to insertions; but some exercise of choice was rendered absolutely neces- sary by restricted limits, and it is hoped that the selection will be found, as a whole, sufficiently varied to amuse, and sufficiently comprehensive to instruct. It was not the Author's original in- tention to have given his name to the work ; but on reflection, he was led to believe, that an anony- mous biography is neither fair to the dead nor satisfactory to the living. In the distribution of praise and blame, it is only justice that the evi- dence on which the decision is pronounced should be duly authenticated. Camden Town, March, 1846. CONTENTS. Richard Arkwright Page . . 1 Warren Hastings . . Page . 193 Edmund Burke . . 8 Bishop Heber . . . . 205 Robert Bums . . . 21 John How^ard . . . . 211 Lord Byron . . . . 28 Dr. Jenner .... . 217 George Canning . . 41 Sir William Jones . . . 222 Earl of Chatham . . 56 Sir James Mackintosh . 229 Dr. Adam Clarke . . 71 Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D 237 LordClive . . . . 76 Sir John Moore, K.B. 242 Captflin Cook . . . 89 Lord Nelson . . . . 255 William Cowper . . 100 William Pitt . . . . 269 Rev. George Crabb e . .107 Sir Samuel Romilly . . 279 Sir Humphrey Da^ rj. . 112 Sir Walter Scott . . . 287 Lord Eldon . . . . 118 Richard Brinsley Sheridan 296 Lord Erskine . . . . 128 John Smeaton . . . . 309 Charles James Fox . . 136 James Watt .... 315 Benjamin Franklin . . 152 Marquis of Wellesley 324 Oliver Goldsmith . . . 163 William Wilberforce . . 333 Hemy Grattan . . . 171 Sir David Wilkie . . 338 Earl Grey . . . . 182 Duke of Wellington . 347 THE MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. The history of the cotton manufacture in England is without a parallel in the annals of mankind. Less than a century has elapsed since it was almost unknown as a branch of British industry ; it is now the most important, both in extent and value, whether Ave regard the wealth which it brings to the country, the prosperity to which it has raised the manufacturers, or the profitable employ- ment which it yields to half a million of operatives. The rise and progress of this great source of national wealth is associated with no high or lofty names ; the chief leader in the improvements of the cotton manufacture was a humble barber, in the town of Bolton. Little is known of Arkwright's early career; he was born in 1736, and at a very early age commenced business as a village barber. Local traditions describe him as veiy shy and reserved, mixing little with his neighbors, and devoting his leisure time to chemical and mechanical experiments. He discovered some process for dyeing hair, which was probably of some value at a time when wigs were generally worn ; but he was inattentive to his business, proverbial for his want of punctuality, and downright rude to those who complained of being disap- pointed. As his business declined he devoted himself more sedulously to mechanical pursuits : he hoped to 1 A 2 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. be able to discover perpetual motion, a folly which he shared with the most eminent mechanists of his day. We have no certain account of the circmu stances which induced him to direct his attention to the cotton manu- facture ; but after a careful examination of the many statements which have been given to the public, we believe that the following narrative will be found most consistent both with probabilities and authenticated facts. In the histoiy of invention, the art of weaving takes precedence of the art of spinning ; and, as this is a point curious in itself as well as one illustrative of our subject, we shall quote what we have elsewhere given as the process of invention in the earlier stages of so- ciety : — " An obvious improvement on the garment of leaves, and one very likely to be suggested by the process of twisting the leaf-stems, would be the interlacing of strips of bark, or ribbon-shaped leaves, in the form of a mat. Communities still exist in the Pacific Ocean and the interior of Africa, with whom invention has yet gone no further than the preparation of matting from strips of bark, straw, and rashes. These are manufactured in a horizontal loom, not very unlike that used by the an- cient Egyptians, representations of which, copied from the monuments, are found in every collection of Egyp- tian antiquities. It could not have escaped the notice of the mat-weavers, that their work was rendered more flexible and agi'eeable to the wearers by the use of finer fibre, and trials would, in all likelihood, be made with the fibres of various plants, particularly those of the hemp and flax tribes. Experience must soon have shown, that the fibres were strengthened by being twisted to- gether, and thus the art of weaving, by a series of pro- cesses not very difficult to be traced, became the parent of the art of spinning." A little before Ark^vi'ight began to pay attention to the processes of spinning, the invention of the fly-shut-^ tie had given an extraordinary impulse to weaving ; the spinners of that day were unable to supply the increas- ing demand for yarn. AVe have conversed with very old persons who remembered when the wf^avevs, or their RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 3 factors, traveled about from cottage to cottage with their pack-horses, to collect yarn from the spinsters, often paying a most extravagant price for it, which absorbed the profits of weaving. To procm-e an adequate supply of yarn was therefore an object of primary importance to the manvifacturers of Lancashire ; and the inventive faculties of English mechanists were exercised to dis- cover some mechanical means of facilitating the process of spinning. In order to comprehend the utility of the invention to which Arkwright has given his name, it is necessary to have some notion of what was required to be done. If we take up a lock of raw cotton wool, we shall find the fibres twisted and curled about in every direction ; but if we gently pull to pieces, longitudinally, a bit of yarn, we shall find that the fibres are laid side by side, without any one of them being bent or doubled, and that they are only so much twisted as to keep them together. The gi'eat point of difficulty was to get the fibres perfectly parallel, and this was partially effected by the process of carding ; but whenever the teeth of the cards caught fibres by the middle they doubled them up, and the only remedy for this evil was drawing out the cotton into a thread, by the finger and thumb, when the distafif was used, and afterwards by the long whee) and spindle. The cotton, after being carded, has the shape of a thick rope of very loose texture, called "a roving ;" and the spinner had to reduce this roving to the tenuity of a thread, to place its fibres straight and to twist them together. The elongation of metal bars and plates, by passing them between cylinders, appears to have first suggested the idea, that carded rolls of wool and cotton might be lengthened into fine rovings by the same means. The attempt was made by Mr. John Wyatt, of Birmingham, so early as 1738, but it did not succeed, because no provision appears to have been made for straightening the fibres. Mr. Thomas Highs, a reed-maker of Leigh, made a rude machine for spin- ning cotton by rollers, in 1767, and he communicated his invention to John Kay, a clockmaker, whom he em- ployed to make a more perfect model of his machine. It is generally believed that Arkwright learned the se- cret of this invention from Kay, and that, at once pel'- 4 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. ceiving its importance, he devoted all his energies to bring it to perfection. He employed two pairs of small rollers, the one being placed at a little distance in front of the other. The lower roller, in each pair, is fluted, and the upper covered with elastic leather, so as to take fast hold of the rope of carded wool which passes between them; and the second pair of rollers revolving with gi-eater rapidity than the first, the roving is lengthened, and the fibres pulled straight in passing from one pair to the other. This operation is several times repeated, in conjunction with some others, until the roving is suf- ficiently thin and all the fibres laid even ; it then re- ceives the requisite degi-ee of twist, which converts it into yarn. Arkwi'ight set up his first spinning-machine, as an ex- perimental model, in the parlor of the Free Grammar School of Preston ; but he received so little encourage- ment in Lancashire that he removed to Nottingham, where he applied to Messrs. Wright, the bankers, for some pecuniary aid in completing his machines, which was granted on condition of a share in the profits. But the perfecting of the machinery required more time and a greater outlay of capital than the bankers had antici- pated ; they therefore advised Arkvsright to obtain other assistance, and introduced him to Mr. Need, the partner of Mr. Jedediah Strutt, who had, some time before, ob- tained a patent for a most ingenious improvement of the stocking-frame. Mr. Strutt was one of the most remarkable and esti- mable men of his day : originally educated as a farmer, he had directed his attention to mechanical improve- ments, and had discovered the means of weaving ribbed stockings in the stocking-frame. He saw, at a glance, the merits of Arkwright's invention, and the defects in the adjustment of the parts which impeded its work- ing. A partnership was proposed, and accepted ; the capital of Messrs. Need and Strutt relieved Arkwright from pecuniary difficulties ; he soon made his machine practicable, and in 1769 secured his invention by a patent. Two kinds of yarn are used in weaving ; the stionger is employed for the w^arp, that is, the extended threads RICHARD ARKWRiGlIT. 5 which run tlirough the length of the cloth ; and the softer or weaker, called the weft, which is thrown hori- zontally through the warp, by means of the shuttle. In order to protect the silk and woolen manufactures, the use of printed or dyed fabrics, which were then only to be obtained from India, was subject to veiy heavy du- ties. Arkwright's machinery enabled him to produce cotton-twist of sufficient strength for warps ; but the officers of excise refused to let his calicos pass unless they paid the same rate of duty as Indian goods ; and thus the act, which had been directed against East India produce, was now, contrary to the intention of the framers, made to operate against English manufactures. Application was made to parliament for relief ; but, strange to relate, the proposal to put English calicos on a legislative equality with other domestic manufac- tures, was opposed by all the cotton manufacturers of Lancashire ! This opposition was so utterly without an object, that it has been justly stigmatized as "one of the most signal instances on record of the blindness of commercial jealousy." Arkwright's immense success, the superiority of hi-s yarns in the market, and the rapidity with which he accumulated wealth, stimulated jealous inquiries ; and it began to be whispered that he had appropriated to him- self the inventions of others. Several manufacturers began to copy his machinery, and this raised the ques- tion of the validity of his patent. In 1785, Arkwright's patents were set aside, after one of the most interesting trials recorded in commercial history ; all the machines which he had perfected, if not invented, were thrown open to the public, and the cotton trade advanced with a rapidity for beyond what has been ever know^n in any other branch of industry. Capital and labor rushed to it in torrents ; mills were erected and filled Avrth ma- chinery ; while a series of new and brilliant mechanical inventions carried the manufacture to a height of pros- perity and perfection which is quite unparalleled. Some of the results of this series of inventions deserve to be noticed. The labor of one man, aided by power and machinery, can produce as much yarn as 250 men could spin without such assistance. In 1781 we only import- 6 MODEKN JiKlTISll Pl.LTAKCII. ed 5,000,000 lbs. of cotton wool ; iu 1843 we imported 531,000,000 lbs., enough to make 1, 260,000,000 yards of cloth, which is about two yards apiece for every human being in the world. Before machinery was employed, there were not more than 30,000 persons engaged in the cotton manufacture. The mills now afford employ- ment to at least ten times that number ; but if we add to those the persons engaged in all the trades connected with spinning and weaving — in the carriage, export, and sale of the goods produced — and in the import of the raw materials, the amount of persons dependent on the cotton trade for support, will be found, at the lowest es- timate, considerably above a million. Arkwright's prosperous career was not checked by the throw^ing open of the ti-ade. His superiority over his rivals was maintained by his extraordinary powers of organizing and combining a great diversity of opera- tions. He was the founder of the factory-system, in which hundreds of operatives, w^orking independently, are still producing one common result ; and he w^as long regarded as the most skilful manager of such an exten- sive concern. The mill at Cromford became his own when his partnership with the Messrs. Strutt termina- ted ; but he had beside large shares in extensive mills in Derbj^shire, Lancashire, and Scotland. He became high-sheriff of Derbyshire, and received the honor of knighthood from George HI.; he accumulated one of the largest fortunes ever acquired bj^ a private individ- ual in England ; and, what probably gratified him still more, he compelled the Lancashire spinners to confess his superiority and submit to his dictation. For several years he fixed the price of cotton-twist, no one ventur- ing to vary from his prices. He died on the 3d of Au- gust, 1792, in the midst of the opulence of Cromford, which he had himself created. The gi-eat characteristic of ArkwTight's mind, and the principal source of his success, was his indomitable per- severance. He had many disadvantages against him — want of capital, the popular prejudice against machinery, and the suspicion to which vast projects are naturally exposed. It was not until after the lapse of five years, and an enormous expenditure of capital, that his proj- RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. ects were so far realized as to enable him to work his machinery with profit. We need not discuss the dis- puted question of tlie originality of the inventions asso- ciated with his name ; but the merit of the application is undeniably his, and, consequently, England is indebted to him for the most flourishing of her national manu- factures. EDMUND BURKE. There is no statesman of the past generation whose opinions are more frequently cited than those of Ed- mund Burke, and to whose authority more deference is professed, if not really exhibited ; and yet there are few public men whose character is more generally misun- derstood, and whose sentiments are more frequently misrepresented. He was one of those men, more nu- merous than is generally imagined, to whom history must act the part of commentator, because his lessons of wisdom are liable to be misunderstood, and even mis- interpreted, when taken apart from the circumstances which called for such instruction. The rule laid down by an eminent "\vi*iter, respecting the ancient philoso- phers, that we should, before interpreting icliat was said, take also into account ichen it was said, is one which should not be neglected by those who desire to profit by the wisdom of any great publicist ; but the rule is more especially applicable to the speeches and writings of Burke, who lived during a period when circumstances not only had a greater control over opinion, but ought to have exercised this control with greater stringency, than during any of which there exists a historic record. The charge of inconsistency, made against Burke, is, in fact, a charge against a course of events over which he had no control ; it is perfectly ti'ue that he advocated the principles which led to the American revolution, and eventually rendered the New England colonies a United States, independent of Old England ; and it is just as ti'ue that he bitterly opposed the first French EDxMUND BURKE. 9 Revolution, wliicli subverted not only monarchy, but all consiitutioaal government. The inconsistency was not in the man, but in the things ; the result pronounces his acquittal ; the United States form, at this hour, an in- dependent and improving republic, without having gone through any organic change since its first establishment ; France, after having gone through a succession of revo- lutions, exhibits still a dismal past, a doubtful present, and an incomprehensible future. The early history of one, who not only exercised a commanding influence in his own day, but whose au- thority is accepted with reverence in ours, has little which rewards the labor of research. Born on Arran Quay, in Dublin, at the beginning of the year 1730, his feeble health seemed likely to prevent his occupying any conspicuous position. Neither as a school-boy, nor as a student in college, did he distinguish himself in any marked manner above his contemporaries. It was not until he came to London, and began to prepare himself for being called to the English bar, that he became conscious of the powers which had hitherto been latent. He quitted the law for the precarious hazards of literary life, and became a contributor to the various periodicals of his day. At this period the infidel speculations of Lord Bolingbroke had produced a most pernicious effect on the public mind, and Burke's first avowed work was an exposure of the dangerous tendency of these popular doctrines. His " Vindication of Natural Society," in which the style of Bolingbroke was so admirably imi- tated, as to constitute identity rather than resemblance, showed that the arguments employed against religion applied as strongly to every other element of civilization, and that, if received as valid, the duty of nations would be to revert as soon as possible to barbarism. Boling- broke's school of infidelity never recovered from this exposure of its necessary consequences, and Burke's first literary essay achieved a triumph which entitles him to lasting gratitude. His next work was, " An Essay into the Origin of our Ideas of the Subhme and Beautiful," which at once obtained a high rank among the standard works of EngUsh literature, and brought Burke acquainted with 10 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and the other eminent men of the day. It was at this time that he projected and commenced the " Annual Register," a periodical which, in spite of many changes and vicissi- tudes, continues to be one of the best records of the political and literary history of the times. Among Burke's early admirers was Lord Charlemont, a nobleman of great acquirements, and still greater prin- ciples. Devoted to the cause of Ireland, his native country, he justly believed that he could in no way better contribute to its elevation, than by affording to able Irishmen an opportunity for developing their talents in the service of their countiy. It was with this view that he introduced Grattan into Parliament, and it was under the influence of a similar feeling that he intro- duced Burke to the Right Honorable William Gerard Hamilton, who, in 1761, had been apix)inted Chief Secretary for Ireland. Burke's services were rewarded with a pension of 300Z. per annum on the Irish estab- lishment. After holding it for tAVO years, Burke re- signed the pension, because it entailed on him a sub- serviency to which a man of his spirit could not tamely submit. It was probably through the intervention of Lord Charlemont that Burke w^as introduced to the Marquis of Rockingham, a nobleman of the most amiable dispo- sitions and patriotic intentions, though deficient in energy and administrative talent. Having been appointed pri- vate secretary to the Marquis of Eockingham, when that nobleman became premier in 1765, Burke was introduced to the English Parliament as member for Wendover. His first speech was in defence of the conciliatory policy towards the dissatisfied colonies in America, which the Rockingham administi-ation had resolved to carry into full effect. Few men so rapidly acquired parliamentaiy reputation ; in the course of the very first session of his senatorial career, Burke took his place among the first orators of the day, and estab- lished a high reputation for himself, both within and without the walls of Parliament. At this period the American colonies exhibited alarming signs of discontent, in consequence of the Stamp Act, while the merchants EDMUND BURKE. 11 and manufactarers at home were incensed at restric- tions which threatened to destroy their trade. The ministers repealed the obnoxious Stamp Act, and passed several other popular measures, among which was a condemnation of general warrants as dangerous engines of oppression. The short administration of Lord Rockingham was a period of tranquillity ; in its place the Earl of Chatham, as premier, formed a cabinet, of which Burke has left us an inimitable description. ''He made an administration so checkered and speckled ; he put together a piece of joinery so crossly indented and whimsically dovetailed ; a cabinet so variously inlaid ; such a piece of diversified mosaic ; such a tessellated pavement without cement ; here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of white ; patriots and courtiers, king's friends and republicans ; Whigs and Tories ; treacherous friends and open ene- mies ; that it was indeed a very curious show, but utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to stand on. . . . In consequence of this arrangement, having put so much the larger part of his enemies and opposers into power, the confusion was such that his own principles could not possibly have any effect or influence in the conduct of affairs. If ever he fell into a fit of the gout, or if any other cause withdrew him from public cares, principles directly the contraiy were seen to predominate. When he had executed his plan, he had not an inch of ground to stand upon. When he had accomplished his scheme of administration, he was no longer a minister." Chatham's cabinet fell to pieces, and was succeeded by the Grafton administration, under which the Letters of Junius first appeared. Burke was long suspected of having written these celebrated letters, but he strenu- ously denied the charge ; and it is now certain that he had no share in their composition. About this time he purchased the mansion and estate of Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire, where his large charities, and en- lightened exertions for advancing the physical comforts and raising the moral condition of all around, rendered his residence a blessing to the neighborhood. Miss Shackleton (afterwards Mrs. Leadbeater), the daughter of Burke's revered schoolmaster, when a girl, wrote a 12 MODERN BRITISH I'LLTARCH. poem, aescriptive of Beaconsfield and its owner, a brief extract from which may interest our readers : — " When the sad voice of indigence he hears, And pain and sickness eloquent in tears, — Forsakes the festive board, with pitying eyes Mingles the healing draught, and sickness flies; Or, if the mind be torn with deep distress, Seeks with kind care the grievance to redress, — This— this is Edmund Burke— and this his creed — This is Sublime and Beautiful indeed !" In 1768 the state of public affairs in England exhibited a perplexity and confusion such as is rarely found in any country. We have, in a preceding page, quoted a description of the incongruous cabinet which Lord Chatham had formed. The first difficulty which presented itself to the ministiy was the affair of John Wilkes, who had been outlawed in consequence of his refusing to stand his ti'ial for the publication of an infamous libel. He applied to the Duke of Grafton for a pardon, and, being refused, came over to England, resolved to perplex and embarrass the administration. He returned to England when writs were issued for assembling a new parliament, presented himself as a candidate for the city of London, and, when defeated there, succeeded in carrying his election for Middlesex. He then surren- dered himself to the Court of King's Bench, obtained the I'eversal of his outlawry, but was sent to prison under a former sentence. The king could not bear the idea of Wilkes's triumph : he insisted that he should not be allowed to take his place in Parliament, while Chat- ham deprecated any interference as unconstitutional. On the day that parliament met, a tumultuous mob assembled round the prison Avhere Wilkes was confined, insisting that he should be allowed to take his seat. The Riot Act was read, the military called out, and some lives were lost in the struggle that ensued. Another libelous letter published by Wilkes afforded the minis- ters a pretext for his expulsion; he was again returned for Middlesex without opposition, but was not allowed to take his seat, and a new election having been ordered, Colonel Luttrell, though he had the smaller number of EDMUND BURKE. 13 votes, was declared the sitting member. Burke acquired great popularity by his steady opposition to these violent proceedings, and, though he avowed his contempt for the private and public character of John Wilkes, he supported his cause as one that involved the electoral rights of the people of England. The determination of the majority of the cabinet to exclude John Wilkes from Parliament, and to levy taxes on the American colonies, at length induced Chatham to resign, and he immediately headed the opposition to the cabinet which he had himself formed. At the same time he became reconciled to Burke's patron, the Mar- quis of Rockingham, from wdiom he had been long estranged, and, in consequence, Burke, in the Commons, actively seconded Chatham's vehement opposition to the ministry in the Lords. In 1770 Burke published his " Thoughts on the Present Discontents," a work of great eloquence and power, but too exclusively confined to the advocacy of party. A far more splendid effort was his speech on American taxation, delivered in sup- port of Mr. Fuller's motion for repealing the duty on tea ; it is one of the finest specimens of parliamentaiy oratory which we possess, and parts of it may be read with interest at the present day. As an example of its nerve and force, we quote a brief passage, describing the rapid advance of the British colonies in America. " Nothing in the history of mankind is like their pro- gi'ess. For my pait, I never cast an eye on their flour- ishing commerce, and their cultivated and commodious life, but they seem to me rather ancient nations, grown to perfection through a long series of prosperous events, and a train of successful industry, accumulating wealth in many centuries, than the colonies of yesterday; than a set of miserable outcasts a few years ago, not so much sent as thrown out on the bleak and barren shore of a desolate wilderness, three thousand miles from all civil- ized intercourse." Burke's fame had now become so great, that, on the dissolution of Parliament, in 1774, he was invited to be- come a candidate for the city of Bristol, and was tri- umphantly returned, after an arduous contest. Events had now proved the danger of the policy pursued to- B 14 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. ward America ; every one saw that civil war was on the point of commencing in the coionies, and when Burke brought forward his plan of conciliation, many of those who voted against it, secretly wished that it could be adopted. Unfortunately, the king had conceived strong prejudices against the American colonies, and still more unfortunately, the premier. Lord North, yield- ed to those prejudices against his better judgment. The course of the American war belongs to history ; from its commencement to its close, Burke was the consistent advocate of peace and conciliation ; but his advice was neglected, and his warnings disregarded. On a similar question, relating to Ireland, the ministers manifested a more wise and generous policy ; they resolved to remove the heavy restrictions, which, for the supposed interests of England, had been imposed upon the ti*ade of that country ; Burke zealously supported the measures for liberating commerce from the restrictions that an unwise jealousy had imposed ; but he thus offended his con- stituents in Bristol, who believed that these restiictions tended to their own profit. His support of Sir George Savile's bill for the removal of some of the civil disabili- ties to which persons professing the Roman Catholic religion were subjected, gave equal offence to many of his supporters ; so that, on the dissolution of Parlia- ment, in 1780, he found it useless to contest Bristol, and entered the new Parliament as member for the little borough of 31alton in Yorkshire. The utter failure of the ministerial plans for the re- covery of the American colonies, at length compelled Lord North to resign, and in March, 1782, the Rocking- ham party returned to power. Burke received the oflfice of paymaster of the forces, and gave a signal proof of his consistency and integrity. While in opposition he had brought forward a plan of economical reform, which had been loudly applauded, but at the same time sternly rejected ; he now renewed his plan, under bet- ter auspices, and saw it carried through both houses of Parliament, to his great delight, though the change took away more than a thousand a year from the emoluments of his own office. The new ministry had scarcely time to an-ange their EDMUND BURKE. 15 plans of administration, when its head, the Marquis of Rockingham, died rather suddenly, and was succeeded as premier by the Earl of Shelburne. This appoint- ment was so distasteful to his colleagues, that many of them immediately resigned and went into active opposi- tion. Mr. Fox, who had begun political life as a parti- san of the court, but had now for many years professed himself the pupil of Burke, was the leader of the oppo- sition to the Earl of Shelburne ; in the heat of his hos- tility he entered into a coalition with Lord North, and the united parliamentary influence of these leaders proved too strong for the ministry. The king, after a long and proti'acted resistance, arising chiefly from his. personal dislike of Mr. Fox, was obliged to submit to the coalition ; a new ministry was formed, and Burke once more resumed his oflice of paymaster. The new ministry had a large majority in Parliament, but did not possess the confidence of the king, and it was far from being popular with the nation. Fox had so often, during the American war, reviled and stigmatized Lord North as the worst enemy of the country, that his junction with that statesman seemed to be an act of inconsistency almost amounting to profligacy. Burke came in for no small share of the unpopularity attend- ing the coalition, and to him was generally attributed Mr. Fox's " India Bill," designed to correct the gross misgovernment of the British empire in Hindustan. Now that the animosities of paity have cooled down on this subject, it is allowed on all hands that the proposed measure was in its main provisions desirable and effi- cient. But it vested a large amount of patronage in the Parliament, which was the same in effect as giving it to the ministers, independent of the king. George IIL was easily persuaded that the design of the bill was to strengthen an obnoxious cabinet against himself, and he therefore resolved to resist it to the uttermost. The strength of the ministry, aided by the powerful elo- quence of Burke, secured for the bill triumphant suc- cess in the Commons ; but when it reached the Lords, the king, through Earl Temple, caused it to be known that he would regard every one who supported the bill as his personal enemy. It was consequently thrown 16 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. out, on the second reading ; and this blow was followed up by the immediate dismissal of the ministers. Pitt, then only in his twenty-fifth year, was appointed pre- mier, and a strange sti'uggle took place between the royal will and the majority of the House of Commons. That majority, however, not being supported by public opinion, gradually dwindled down from fifty-four to one. At this critical moment, Pitt advised the bold measure of dissolving Parliament ; his success was signal ; no less than 160 members of the old Parliament lost their seats, and were whimsically nicknamed " Fox's Martyrs." In 1784 Burke was elected Lord Rector by the Uni- versity of Glasgow, a merited tribute paid to his literary merits at a time when his political reputation was ob- scm-ed. But though in opposition, he did not lose sight of Indian afitairs ; in 1785 he delivered a remarkable speech on the debts of the Nabob of Arcot, and in the following year he moved for the prosecution of the Gov- ernor-general of India, Warren Hastings. Rarely has eloquence won such a triumph as that which Burke achieved on this occasion ; he won over the nation to his views ; he forced the minister, who exhibited at first partiality for the accused, to preserve a rigid neutrality, and he carried a vote for the impeachment of Hastings, from a reluctant majority of the House of Commons. The conduct of the trial of Hastings, at the bar of the House of Lords, was committed to a body of managers, the chief of whom were Burke, Fox, Sheridan, Francis, Grey, &:«., but of whom Burke was the chief director and animating spirit. The speech which he deliv- ered on this memorable occasion was never surpassed in its thrilling effect, and even at the present day can scarcely be read with calmness. We shall quote a few passages ; he thus describes the nature of the crimes charged against Hastings : — " We charge this oflt'ender with no crimes that have not arisen from passions which it is criminal to harbor ; with no offences that have not their root in avarice, rapacity, pride, insolence, ferocity, treachery, cruelty, malignity of temper ; in short, in nothing that does not argue a total extinction of all moral principle ; that does not manifest an inveterate blackness of heart, dyed in EDMUND BURKE. 17 grain with malice, vitiated, corrupted, gangrened to the very core. If we do not plant his crimes in those vices, which the breast of man is made to abhor, and the spirit of all laws, human and divine, to interdict, we desire no longer to be heard upon this occasion. Let everything that can be pleaded on the ground of surprise or error, upon thorse grounds be pleaded with success ; we give up the whole of those predicaments. We urge no crimes that were not crimes of forethought. We charge him with nothing that he did not commit upon delibera- tion ; that he did not commit against advice, supplica- tion, and remonstrance ; that he did not commit against the direct command of lawful authority ; that he did not commit after reproof and reprimand, the reproof and reprimand of those who are authorized by the laws to reprove and reprimand him. The crimes of Mr. Has- tings a«re crimes not only in themselves, but aggravated by being crimes of contumacy. They were crimes not against forms, but against those eternal laws of justice which are our rule and our birthright. His offences are not, in formal, technical language, but in reality, in substance and effect, high crimes and high misde- meanors." The description of the cruelties of Debi Sing, one of the worst agents of Indian tyranny, is, unfortunately, too long to be extracted, and too important to be mutila- ted ; it drew forth murmurs of execration from the whole assembly of lords and spectators, while many of the female part of the audience fainted. The conclud- ing passages of the speech must not be omitted : — " I impeach Warren Hastings, Esq. of high crimes and misdemeanors. " I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain in Parliament assembled, whose parlia- mentary ti-ust he has beti-ayed. " I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, whose national character he has dishon- ored. "I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted ; whose properties he has destroyed, whose country he has laid \vaste and desolate. 2 e2 18 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. " I impeach liim in the name, and by virtue, of those eternal laws of justice, which he has violated. " I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation, and condi- tion of life." After a trial which lasted more than seven years, Warren Hastings was acquitted, principally in conse- quence of the tedious length to which the pi'oceedings had been protracted, every one having become weary of the subject. Posterity will probably believe, that there were great crimes, and great excuses for them, in the government of India by the accused. In the autumn of 1788 the alarming state of the king's health forced the question of a regency on the consider- ation of Parliament. So severe and violent was his at- tack of mental disease, that his malady was generally deemed incurable. Mr. Pitt proposed that the royal authority should be delegated to the Prince of Wales, under certain restrictions ; Mr. Fox and his friends op- posed these restrictions with all their might. Burke, in particular, assailed the minister with continued wit, sarcasm, argument, and ridicule ; but, while the question was still in debate, the king's malady sensibly abated, and in the following spring his health was sufficiently recovered to allow of his resuming the functions of gov- ernment. The closing scene of Mr. Burke's political career was associated with the gi-eatest event of modern times, the French Revolution. From the very first, Burke de- nounced the political changes effected by the agency of infuriate multitudes ; and, while others, including many of the wisest and best men in the country, rejoiced in the triumph of liberty over despotism, Burke denounced the anarchy, the in-eligion, and the lust of conquest, which he too truly predicted would mark the career of the French republicans. While his mind was filled with these thoughts, he produced his most remarkable work, " Reflections on the Revolution in France." Its success was unexampled ; thirty thousand copies were sold within the year ; it was translated into French, and widely circulated over the Continent. Several replies EDMUND BURKE. 19 were wiitteu to it : the best by Sir .Tames Mackintosh ; the most popular, though the worst, by Tom Paine. Burke followed up his success by several other publica- tions on the same subject, which produced a strong- effect on the public mind, both in England and on the Continent ; indeed these writings had no small share in kindUng the great war against France. A difference of opinion, on such an important question as the French Revolution, necessarily led to a coolness between Burke and his former friend Fox, but the final rupture was wholly owing to the intemperance of the former. In the debate on the bill for the government of Canada, Mr. Burke announced that his friendship with Mr. Fox was at an end. Mr. Fox was moved even to tears by this disruption of long-continued confidence ; a painful scene of explanation followed, but the breach was irreparable, they never met again as friends. To justify this separation, Burke published his " Appeal from the Old to the New Whigs," which was soon fol- lowed by his " Thoughts on French Affairs," in which he reiterated his warnings against the dangerous ambi- tion of the French republicans. At the same time he exerted himself successfully to obtain a relaxation of the penal laws that had been enacted against the Irish Cath- olics, and it was owing chiefly to his exertions and influ- ence that they were admitted to the enjoyment of sev- eral constitutional privileges by the Irish Parliament. France, however, continued to be the engrossing sub- ject of his thoughts ; he assailed the French republicans by his speeches and writings, until, on the dissolution of Parliament, in 1794, he retired from public life. In the same year he suffered the most severe calam- ity which he had yet encountered — the loss of his only son, to whom he was attached with a devotedness ex- ceeding parental partiality. " The grief of Burke," says one of his relatives, " was appalling ; he would sit in that unnatural calmness of despair more terrific than the most stormy display of passion ; then, bursting into a fi-enzy, he would rush into the chamber where his son lay, and throwing himself on the body, call in accents of fearful anguish for the hope of his age, the stay of his life, the only comfort of his declining and now joy- 20 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. less years." We need not dwell longer on this melan- choly spectacle — the grief of the father is sacred. Public affairs had alone tlie power of weaning him from the perilous indulgence of solitary grief ; he pub- lished letters on the Catholic question; a defence of his own political conduct against the charges made by his former friends ; and " Thoughts and Details on Scarcity," in which he ably expounded and zealously defended the great principles of economic science. In 1795, the gov- ernment, unasked and unsolicited, conferred a pension on Mr. Burke ; his acceptance of the favor exposed him to much severe censure from the party he liad aban- doned, but he defended his conduct in his celebrated " Letter to the Duke of Bedford," which silenced the clamors of liis adversaries forever. His hen 1th was now rapidly declining, but he exerted himself in occasional publications to point out the necessity of putting an end to the misrule and misery of Ireland, exhorting the Par- liament of England to redress the grievances of that country, and to relieve its suffering people. He also published his "Thoughts on a Regicide Peace," intend- ed to animate the drooping spirits of those who were disheartened by the disasters of the war. In 1797 his constitution was so enfeebled that he repaired to Bath far the benefit of rhe waters ; but having remained there four months without experiencing any improvement, he returned to Beaconstield, resigned to death. His end was calm, dignified, and tranquil ; he expired on the 9th of July, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. Mr. Fox, with generous forgetfulness of recent differences, proposed that the remains of the great ora- tor should be publicly interred in Westminster Abbey, but this being inconsistent with Burke's will, he was buried in Beaconsfield church, in the same gi-ave with his brother and his son. However men may differ in their estimate of different parts of Burke's life, few can view it as a whole without subscribing to the magnifi- cent eulogy of Grattan : " His immortality is that which is common to Cicero or to Bacon— that which can never be interrupted while there exists the beauty of order or the love of virtue, and which can fear no death except what barbarity may impose upon the globe." ROBERT BURNS. " Burns," says Professor Wilson, " is by far the great- est poet that ever sprang from the bosom of the people, and lived and died in a humble condition." He was born on the 25th of January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage in Ayrshire, and so IVail was the tenement, that about a week after his birth, part of the cottage gave way at midnight, and the infant poet and his mother were car- ried amid the storm to a neighboring hovel. William Burns, or Burness, the father of the poet, was a g.irdener and small farmer, who possessed in an eminent degree the characteristic virtues of the peasantry of Scotland ; be was industrious, frugal, and pious ; careful to procure for his children the best education which his means could afford, and anxious to promote the expansion of their minds by reading and conversation. Robert, his eldest son, was sent at an early age to school, and after he had acquired the first rudiments of learning, became remark- able for his earnest devotion to reading. In a remote part of the country, at that period, books were I'are, and could only be obtained with difficulty : there was no room for selection or choice, and the boy read with avid- ity everything that came in his way. His favorite book was a collection of songs, which he mentions with gi-eat affection in his interesting letter to Dr. Moore, the au- thor of " Zeluco." " The collection of songs," he says, " was my vade 7necum (constant companion). 1 pored over them, driving my cart, or walking to labor, song by song, verse by verse, carefully noticing the true tender and sublime, from affectation or fustian ; and I am con- 22 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. vinced I owe to this practice much of my critic-craft, such as it is." His eagerness for learning induced him to acquire a sufficient knowledge of the French language to enable him to read and understand the prose writers ; he made a similar effort to learn Latin, but soon aban- doned it from want of time for study. Notwithstanding the industry and frugality of William Burns, he became involved in great difficulties ; the soil of his farm was bad, and he lost several of his cattle by accident and disease. He was thus obliged early to avail himself of the labor of his children ; at the age of thirteen, Robert assisted in threshing the crop of corn, and at fifteen, he was the principal laborer on the estate. During the following seven yeai-s the family had to make 60 arduous a struggle for the means of existence, that there was little leisure for literary improvement. In his twenty-third year he resolved to learn the trade of a flax-dresser, but the shop of his intended master hav- ing been burned down, he returned home, and after his father's death, in conjunction with his brother Gilbert, took the farm of Mossgiel. Prosperity did not shine on the labors of the brothers ; the farm lies very high, exposed to keen blasts, and had a cold wet subsoil, so that ungenial weather was partic- ularly unfavorable to its crops. Four frosty seasons, each followed by a late spring, came in succession, and the family was poorer at the end than at the beginning. It was during this period, however, that Burns produced his earliest and some of his best poems. The verses were usually composed during the labors of the daj-, and were written out at night on a table in the stable -loft, which served him as a bed-chamber. His reputation for knowledge, his convivial talents, and his superior strength of mind, rendered him popular with the rustics of his own class, and with many of a higher rank of life ; hence he was often induced to join in scenes of dissipa- tion, and he thus acquired habits which had a fatal effect on the whole of his future existence. An act of impru- dence which led to a secret marriage with Jane Armour, who subsequently became his acknowledged wife, brought him to the brink of ruin. Her family and friends were BO displeased that they wished to prevent the union, and ROBERT BURNS. 23 Burns, reduced to despair, sought for the situation of overseer on the estate of Dr. Douglas, in Jamaica. As ]ie had not sufficient money to pay the expenses of a passage to the West Indies, he resolved to publish his Poems by subscription, for the purpose of raising the necessary funds. In July, 1786, the first edition was published at the Kilmarnock press : it was very favora- bly received, and the author realized a profit of twenty pounds. He had taken his passage in the first ship that was to sail for Jamaica from the Clyde, and his chest was on the road to Greenock, when one of his friends received a letter from Dr. Blacklock, of Edinburgh, de- scribing the sensation which his Poems had produced in the Scottish metropolis, and the probability of his being able to bring out a second edition of tiiem under more favorable auspices. In the September of 1786, Burns came to Edinburgh, which was at that time the residence of some of the most celebrated literary men of their age. Professor Dugald Stewart, Dr. Hugh Blair, Lord Monboddo, Dr. A-dam Ferguson, the historian Robertson, Mackenzie, the author of The Man of Feeling, and several other eminent men, had raised a circle of society which has rarefy been surpassed in the fame and character of its members. But unfortunately the city also contained men of considerable talents and varied acquirements, who sometimes indulged in excesses beyond the limits of regularity and temperance. The kindness of those to %vhom Burns was introduced, particularly the Earl of Glencairn, whose premature death he afterward lamented in the most pathetic of elegies, procured the rustic stranger admission to the gayest and highest cir- cles, and unfortunately he had not always strength to resist the temptations by which he was beset. The new edition of his Poems appeared with a subscription list of more than fifteen hundred names, including those of the highest and most distinguished men in Scotland. This success induced him to gratify his taste by visiting those parts of his native country most remarkable for the beaut}'- or grandeur of their scenery, but the accounts he has left of these little tours are not so interesting as might have been expected. On his return to Edinburgh 24 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. he gave a touching proof of his sensibihty and good feel- ing, by searching out the grave of the unfortunate poet Ferguson, and procuring a monument to be erected over it at his own expense. At his final settlement with his publisher. Burns found himself master of nearly <£oOO, clear of all ex- penses. With this sum he returned to Mossgiel, where he was received by his affectionate mother with a warmth of feeling which probably gave him more sin- cere pleasure than all his former triumphs. He imme- diately advanced tAvo hundred pounds to his brother Gilbert, who had taken upon himself the support of their aged mother, and was struggling with many diffi- culties in the farm at Mossgiel. With the remainder he took and stocked the farm of Elliesland, on the river JNith, six miles above Dundee. His marriage was now publicly avowed, and he resolved to devote the remain- der of his life to his wife and children. Having been previously recommended to the Board of Excise for some humble situation in the revenue, he applied him- self to acquire the necessary information, hoping that he would be able to unite the occupations of a farmer and a ganger. Feeling strongly his responsibihties as a husband and a father, he resolved to lead a life of prudence, temperance, and industry ; he immediately engaged in rebuilding the dwelling-house on his farm, which did not afford sufficient accommodation for his family, and he worked himself as a laborer, expressing pleasure at finding that neither his strength nor his skill were impaired. The separation froin his wife and children at this period, though but temporary, was productive of very injurious consequences. He was tempted to pay them frequent visits in Ayrshire, and, as the distance was too g]"eat for a single day's journey, he generally spent a night at an inn on the road. When recognized, he was invited to join any company which chance had brought together, and thus his habits of dissipation were re- newed, and he was led to neglect his farm for jovial parties. When his family at length came home he had begun to view his farm with dislike and despondence, if not with disgust, and, having received the appointment ROBERT BURNS. 25 of gauger, he abandoned it altogether to the care of his servants. Besides his duties in the Excise and his social pleas- ures, other circumstances interfered with the attention of Burns to his farm. He engaged in the formation of a society for purchasing and circulating books amono- the farmers of the neighborhood, of which he undertook the management, and he occupied himself occasionally in composing songs for the musical work of Mr. John- son, then in course of publication. These engagements, though useful and honorable in themselves, were allowed to engi-oss too large a share of his time, and they withdrew his thoughts from the business of agri- culture. Sad results followed, notwithstanding the uniform prudence and care of Mrs. Burns ; and though the rent of his farm was moderate and reasonable, the poet found it necessary to resign his farm to his land- lord, after having occupied it about three years and a half. He retired, with the wreck of his property, to a small house in Dumfries, having now nothing on which he could depend but an income of about seventy pounds a-year from the Excise. His new residence was more perilous to Burns than that which he had quitted, for the town exposed him to the temptations of company. It is true that he numbered among his friends some of the most respect- able persons in Dumfries, and that travelers who visited the place eagerly sought an introduction to the Ayi-shire poet. By such persons he was received with respect, and treated with kindness. There were times, also, when his poetic powers burst forth with all their origi- nal vigor, and he produced several short lyrics of the highest excellence. But the sad truth must not be concealed — he formed acquaintance with many dissi- pated associates, and indulged in drunken habits, to which, indeed, his situation as gauger afforded too many temptations. At this time he had some hopes of promotion in the Excise, but circumstances occurred which led him to believe that they would never be fulfilled. He had .shared in the hopes of amelioration formed at the com- mencement of the French Revolution by men of en- C 26 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. thusiastic and benevolent minds ; with his usual impru- dence in his social and unguarded moments, he uttered his sentiments in language unnecessarily vehement, and an exaggerated report ot" the circumstance was made to the Board of Excise. A superior officer was sent to investigate the matter, and his representations were so far favorable that Burns was allowed to retain his situa- tion, but he was, at the same time, informed that his promotion was deferred, and must depend on his future behavior. These events preyed on the sensitive mind of the poet, and, at the same time, his health began to decline ; but he did not abandon his dangerous indul- gences in drinking, and on one occasion, he dined at a tavern, after having just recovered from a severe attack of illness, whence he did not return home until the fol- lowing morning. It was in the midst of a severe winter ; tlie coldness of the weather, united to his intoxication, brought on a severe attack of rheumatism, which was followed by a general decline both of his mental and physical constitution. In the summer he went to the sea-side, but, finding no improvement from the change of air or the bathing, he returned to Dumfries, to die in the centi-e of his family. The fatal hour was not far distant; on the 21st of July, 1796, his sufferings were terminated, " and a life was closed, in which virtue and passion had been at perpetual variance." As Burns died in great poverty, a subscription was raised for his family, and this, added to the profits of an edition of his works brought out under the friendly superintendence of Dr. Currie, placed them in coiupar- ative independence. Had he foreseen the honorable career v/hich his childi'en have since pursued, he would have been spared from much of the suffering which anxiety for their welfare occasioned in his last illness. All the great writers of the present century have borne such earnest and unanimous testimony to the poetic merits of Burns, that it is unnecessary here to dwell at any length upon the subject. All his writings seem, however, but a fraction of the greatness that was in him — glimpses of a gloiy which only wanted oppor- tunity to shine forth in its full effulgence. His poems are, with scarcely any exceptions, mere occasional effu- ROBERT BURNS. 27 sions, poured forth with httle premeditation, expressing, by such means as offered, the passion, opinion, or humor of the hour. But they are all preeminently distinguished by their sincerity and their indisputable air of truth. " Fight Avho will about words and forms," said Lord Byron, "Burns' rank is in the first class of his art." Of his personal character, his many virtues, and his many errors, enough, perhaps, has been said in the preceding pages. Amidst all his distresses he preserved a most independent spirit, and carefully avoided debt or incurring any pecuniary obligation. He refused to avail himself of the generosit^^ of friends or patrons, and this quality of his mind should be taken into account when his distresses are made the subject of reproach to his countrymen. Respect for his memory forms part of the national creed of Scotland ; his poems are read, recited, and revered equally in the lordly hall and the peasant's cabin ; they are all the delight of the young and the solace of the aged ; but their fame is not con- fined to their country : wherever the British race has spread, the poems of Burns have followed, and we doubt whether any bard has had more readers and more admirers. Noble qualities of soul could alone have commanded such a triumph. " Then be his failings covered by his tomb, And guardian laurels o'er his ashes bloom." LORD BYRON. Few subjects are more painful to contemplate than the errors of genius. While the inflexible principles of rectitude compel us to denounce vice, whatever may be the intellectual qualities with which it is accompanied, there is a kind of awe produced in the mind by the contemplation of great abilities which leads us to avoid searching too closely into conduct which we know that we must condemn. It is, however, necessary, for the sake of youth, to show that the faults as well as the virtues of early hfe exercise a marked effect on man's subsequent career, and that the process of self-training and self-culture, in which every man must engage, has a large share in determining the course of future exist- ence. This moral is apparent in the whole career of the noble poet whose life we are about to contemplate. The want of self-restraint was the great source of all the errors and all the unhappiness of a career which might have been one of unsullied glory and unmingled utility. George Gordon Byron wns the only son of Captain John Byron, and the grandson of the celebrated Admiral Byron. He was born in London, January 22d, 1788, and, by an accident at his birth, was rendered slightly lame for Mfe. Soon after this event his parents separated ; his father, a profligate, who had dissipated his own fortune and that of his wife, retired to Valen- ciennes, where he died in 1791 ; Mrs. Byron, with her infant son, removed to Aberdeen, where her limited means aftbrded more comforts than she could procure ia London. The mother of the poet was a woman of LORD BYRON. 29 violent teinjier and inordinate family pride, and similar defects became manifest in Byron at an early age. These were increased by his sudden change of fortune; on the death of his uncle, without children, he became, at ten years of age, the possessor of a peerage and a fair estate. After a brief residence at Newstead, the seat of his ancestors, he was sent to the school of Dr. Glennie, at Dulwich, where he appears to have gained the esteem both of his master and his schoolfellows. He had read a greater stock of history and poetiy than was usual at his age ; the Scriptures were familiar to him, particularly the historical books of the Old Testa- ment, and he had formed habits of solitary reflection and contemplation, which enabled him to render his knowledge almost a part of his mind. Unfortunately the capricious fondness of his mother inteiTupted this course of useful progress; she frequently withdrew him from school, and M^hen he was at home treated him with alternate extremes of violence and fondness. The Earl of Carlisle, who was the boy's guardian, felt it his duty to interfere ; he resolved upon sending his ward to Harrow, whither he was removed in his fourteenth year. He met, among his schoolfellows at HaiTow, many who have since taken high rank in public life ; and the master of the school. Dr. Drury, was one who combined, in an eminent degree, the best qualifications for an instructor of youth. Byron did not profit as much as he might have done by these advantages ; he was regarded as a wayward, clever, but idle boy, pos- sessing unquestionable talents, but unwilling to be bound by the rules of scholastic discipline. But though he neglected his prescribed studies, he seems to have greatly increased his store of general knowledge by miscellaneous reading. " The truth is," he said, " that I read eating, read in bed, read when no one else read, and had read all sorts of reading since I was five years old." Though not at first much liked by his schoolfel- lows, he soon formed friendships with several of them, and always looked back to his residence at Harrow as one of the most happy periods of his Hfe. Indeed, he had acquired such influence over his playmates, that once, during a rebellion, he prevented the school-room 30 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. from being burned down, by pointing out to the boys the names of their fathers and gi'andfathers inscribed on the walls. During the Harrow vacations he resided \vith his mother, who does not appear to have improved either in temper or prudence ; Byron's temperament was warm and ijiipulsive, and, had his mother known how to in- spire him with respect and confidence, she might have guided him at her pleasure. He began to evince the passion of love at an early age, for we are informed that when only eight years old he formed an attachment to Mary Dutf, so strong that he was thrown into convul- sions by hearing of her marriage eight years afterwards. He afterwards made his first essay in poetry, under the inspiration of a passion for his first cousin, Miss Marga- ret Parker, whom he described as " one of the most beautiful of evanescent beings;" but his most lasting attachment, and that which influenced his whole life, was for Miss Mary Chaworth, whose father had been killed in a duel bj^ his great uncle. Unfortunately for Byron, the lady, who was two years his senior, regarded his love as the fanciful passion of a school-boy, and was, besides, engaged to Mr. Musters, whom she subsequently married. The news of her marriage was very abruptly communicated to Byron by his mother ; but, though he concealed all outward signs of emotion, he felt the dis- appointment with the keenest bitte]-ness, and never alluded to it without suffering. Having completed his studies at Harrow, Lord Byron removed to Trinity College, Cambridge ; but. unlike most youths, he felt gi'eat pain at exchanging the life of a school for that of a university. His imaginative mind probably revolted from the severe mathematical studies in vogue at Cambridge ; and, among his other eccen- ti'icities, he ridiculed the university by keeping a bear, which he declared that he was ti'aining as a candidate for fellowship. The poet's career at the university was indeed neither useful to himself nor instructive to others ; we shall therefore pass it over, only observing that it was during this period he commenced his first work, " Hours of Idleness," which was printed at Newark, in 1807. In the following year a most severe and, in many respects, LORD BYRON. 31 unjust criticism of these juvenile poems appeared in the " Edinburgh Review." His feelings, under the lash of the reviewer, were most poignant and vindictive ; he immediately commenced, as a retort, his celebrated satire, entitled ''English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," in which he hurled defiance at almost every great wi-iter of the day. Having come of age in 1809, a little previous to the publication of the Satire, he informed his guardian. Lord Carlisle, of his intention to take his seat in the house of peers ; the earl, belonging to a family which has for many generations been honorably distinguished by its high tone of morality and dignified propriety, was, prob- ably, annoyed by the irregularities and eccentricities of his noble ward, which were, unfortunately, too noto- rious. He replied, in a cold note, merely explaining the formalities necessary to be observed on the occasion. Lord Chancellor Eldon further galled the sensitive bard, by insisting strictly on the completion of the evidence necessary to support his claim ; and thus, the ceremony of taking his hereditary seat among his peers was one which produced him great mortification. The Satire which we have mentioned, was published anonymously soon after he had taken his seat, and some bitter lines were inserted against the Earl of Carlisle, in revenge for his supposed neglect. Its success was im- mediate and decided ; the very daring and boldness of its injustice contributed to its popularity. In later years, Byron, who had become the intimate friend of many of those whom he had wantonly assailed, lamented the publication of this bitter effusion, and would have sup- pressed it had he not parted with the copyright. Just before the appearance of the second edition he quitted England on his travels, iu company with Mr., now Sir John, Hobhouse. As the Continent was then closed against Englishmen by the war with Napoleon, the- trav- elers proceeded to the Levant, and examined the classic shores of Greece, SjTfia, and Asia Minor, and the not less interesting aspect of society presented by the pecu- liar population of Turkey. The feelings with which he quitted England are thus described in the first canto of " Childe Harold," a poem which very faithfully records 32 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the impressions produced on his mind by his travels in distant lands : — " Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun, Disporting there like any other fly ; Nor deem'd before his little day was done One blast might chill him into misery. But long e'er scarce a third of his pass'd by Worse than adversity the Childe befell; He felt the fulness of satiety : Then loath'd he in his native land to dwel Which seein'd to him more lone than eremite's sad cell. " For he through sin's long labyrinth had run, Nor made atonement when he did amiss ; Had sigh'd to many though he lov'd but one, And that loved one, alas ! could ne'er be his. Ah, happy she ! to 'scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste, Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss. And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste. Nor calm domestic bliss had ever deign'd to taste. " And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his fellow bacchanals would flee. 'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, But pride congeal'd the drop within his ee : Apart he stalk'd in joyless reverie, And from his native land resolv'd to go And visit scorching climes beyond the sea. With pleasure drugg'd he almost long'd for woe, And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below " In these stanzas, and in many other passages of his writings, Lord Byron seems to have taken a morbid pleasure in exaggerating the imperfections of his own character; his means were too limited to admit of such extravagance of dissipation as he has porti-ayed. The transition from a debauched profligate to an intelligent observer and profound thinker is too abrupt ; and few have read the first cantos of " Childe Harold," without feeling that the confessions of sensuality, in the begin- ning of the poem, are inconsistent with the keen per- ception of intellectual beauty which pervades all the rest. On his travels it was the poet's pleasure to lead a life of hardihood and temperance. He used frequently to sleep, in his rough great coat, on the bare boards of the deck, while the winds and the waves were roarins round LORD BYRON. 33 him on every side ; and he would subsist on a hard crust and a glass of water. In Spain and Greece he under- took long journeys on horseback, over rugged and scarcely passable roads, reckless of fatigue, and almost insensible to the privations which must be endured by travelers in semi-barbarous countries. One of his greatest pleasures was swimming, and, perhaps, there was no exploit of his life of which he spoke with greater pleasure than his swimming across the Hellespont, from Sestos to Abydos, in imitation of the ancient hero Leander. His impressions of the Eastern countries which he visited, are found in almost all his writings, as well as " Childe Harold;" and most of his tales are founded on incidents which he observed in his travels. In July, 1811, he returned to England. Mr. Dallas, then his literary friend and adviser, having come to visit him, the poet put into his hand a " Paraphrase of Hor- ace," which he wished to have printed under his super- intendence. Finding this a performance of very unequal merit and no great extent, Mr. Dallas inquired whether he had written nothing else ? Byron replied that he had composed several short poems, besides a great num- ber of stanzas in the Spenserian measure, descriptive of the places he had visited on his travels. Mr. Dallas, with some difficulty, induced the poet to show him those stanzas, and, at once discovering their immense superi- ority over the Paraphrase, persuaded him to complete the poem. Before it was quite finished he lost his mother, who died rather suddenly, at Newstead. His grief for her death, though sincere, was not of long du- ration ; he soon returned to London, seemingly with an intention of devoting himself to political life. His first speech in parliament was delivered on the 27th of Feb- ruary, 1812, in opposition to the severe enactments of the Nottingham Frame-breaking Bill. It was received with great applause by statesmen of all parties ; he told Mr. Dallas that he had, by his speech, given the best advertisement for " Childe Harold's" pilgrinaage, which was published two days after. There was probably never any poem which took such an immediate and lasting hold on the public mind. He says himself, " I awoke one morning and found myself 3 34 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. famous." The first edition was soon exhausted ; the publisher gave him six hundred pounds for the copyright, which he presented to Mr. Dallas, declaring that "he would never receive money for his ^vl•itings," a resolu- tion which he subsequently abandoned. His pen proved as prolific as it was powerful ; the " Giaour," the "Bride of Abydos," and the "Corsair," followed each other in rapid succession ; and so great was the popularity of the latter that 14,000 copies were sold in one day. Byron was now at the summit of his popularity ; his acquaintance was eagerly sought by statesmen, philoso- phers, and men of literature ; and he was followed by admiring crowds of the fairer sex. Unfortunately he pursued a course of conduct which exposed him to much censure ; he ostentatiously disregarded the rules of de- corum and propriety ; and though, in this, there was probably more of eccenti-icity than of perverted morals, he was not the less viewed with misti'ust by those who thought that genius, however exalted, could furnish no excuse for profligacy. Under these circumstances his friends advised him to many ; he renewed his proposals to Miss Milbanke, by whom he had been previously re- fused, and, on the second occasion, was accepted. The maiTiage took place at Seaham, January 22d, 1815 ; and, according to the poet's own account, offered little promise of mutual happiness. Ten months after the marriage Lady Byron gave birth to a daughter, Ada (the present Lady Lovelace) ; and this event was, in a few weeks, followed by the total separation of the pa- rents. Some mystery still hangs over the causes of this disunion, which proved to be perpetual. Byi-on was connected with the managing committee of Drury- lane Theati'e ; and this led him into a course of life which his lady, for many reasons, viewed with great disapprobation ; they had, for some time, lived beyond their income, and the pressing claims of creditors sub- jected them to great annoyance and inconvenience. But these circumstances do not adequately explain the total disruption of domestic ties, and the determination evinced that they should never be reunited. It would be idle and improper to indulge in any conjectures on the sub- ject ; we have only to record that the event produced a LORD BYRON. 35 most fatal influence on the remainder of the poet's ca- reer. Shortly after the separation, he produced " Lara," the " Siege of Corinth," and " Parisina," which had not the same success as his previous publications. He then took the dangerous step of making the public a party to his domestic dissensions, by publishing the " Sketch from Private Life," and the celebrated " Fare-thee- well." If he had hoped by this appeal to get the popu- lar voice on his side he completely failed ; the general impression continued to be in favor of his wite, and, conscious of this, he resolved to quit England. Passing through France he visited the field of Waterloo, and then, ascending the Rhine, entered Switzerland, where he became acquainted with Shelley. With extraordinary powers of imagination, great sim- plicity of character, and a most atfectionate disposition, Shelley had rendered himself unpopular by attacking the religious creed and the civil institutions of his country. His first wife died by her own hand ; he was deprived of the guardianship of his two children in consequence of his skeptical opinions; and thus, hke Lord Byron himself, he had determined to become an exile from England, in company with his second wife and her children. Similarity of circumstances, and, perhaps, some similarity of disposition and opinions, brought the two poets together, and laid the foundation of intimate friendship. Though we strenuously condemn the na- ture and tendency of Shelley's speculative opinions, we cannot deny that he was one of the most amiable of human beings, and there can be little doubt that he, though perhaps unconsciously, infused a portion of his own principles into the mind of Byron. From Switzerland Lord Byron proceeded to Italy, and resided principally at Venice, whence he trans- mitted home for publication the third and fourth cantos of " Childe Harold,"—" The Prisoner of Chillon,"— "Manfred," — "The Lament of Tasso," and many minor poems. These greatly increased his literary fame ; but they did not redeem the stains which a head- long course of licentiousness fixed on his moral character. The poet Moore, who visited him at Venice in 1819, and who united the courage to the truth of friendship, 36 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. appears to have remonstrated with him on the danger of the course which he pursued ; Byron was so far from being offended, that he presented his adviser with the manuscript memoirs of his hfe, which were, however, subsequently destroyed, as too dangerous to be pub- lished. It was in the course of this year that the Countess GuiccioU became the avowed mistress of Byron. In addition to the other calamities of such a connection, the family of the lady involved the poet in the troubled politics of Italy, and the hopeless schemes for the regeneration of that country. Among the poems which Byron produced at Venice, was " Beppo," a lively satirical tale, which he is said to have finished at a silting. The facility with which this was produced, and the great success it obtained, led him to plan another poem in the same style ; we mean " Don Juan," justly characterized by Moore as " the most powerful and, in many respects, painful display of the veisatility of genius, that has ever been left for suc- ceeding ages to wonder and deplore." Combining some of the highest flights of poetry with some of the most degrading lessons of sensuality, the cantos of " Don Juan" have a tendency to destroy all belief in the reality of virtue, by exhibiting the heartlessness of all to whom he had attributed pure or noble emotions. The poetic merits of the work may be admired, but its vicious ten- dencies cannot be too strongly condemned. In the interval between 1819 and 1822, Byron produced the dramas of " Marino Faliero," — " The Two Foscari," — " Sardanapalus," — " Werner," and " The Deformed Transformed ;" he also published " Cain, a Mystery," and " The Prophecy of Dante." In conjunction with Messrs. Hunt and Shelley, he commenced a periodical, called " The Liberal," to which he contributed "Heaven and Earth, a Mystery," and too celebrated a parody on Southey's "Vision of Judgment." The latter produc- tion led to a prosecution of the publisher, and the periodical was abandoned after the fourth number. In July, 1822, Lord Byron lost his friend Shelley, who was drowned off the coast of Italy. This sad event, and the annoyances to which he was subject from his supposed attachment to revolutionary principles, LORD BYRON. 37 induced him to leave Italy, and take up his residence at Geneva. He had long felt an interest in the war ol Greek independence, and had for some time corre- sponded with the leaders of the insurgents ; and he was probably weary of the life of sensual indolence he long had led, and anxious to exchange it for more stirring scenes. Perhaps to these motives was added a lurking desire to be restored to the good opinion of his country- men, which, while he affected to despise, he ardently thirsted for in his secret soul. Whatever were his motives, he engaged in the Greek war with all the ardor of his impetuous nature ; and, having made the best aiTangements of his affairs which circumstances would admit, he proceeded to Western Greece. In the beginning of January, 1824, Lord Byron reached Missolonghi, and was received with the utmost enthusiasm; it was believed that his presence would ensure the deliverance of the country, and the most extravagant opinions were entertained of his influence and his resources. His first efforts were directed to check the barbarous inhumanity with which the war had been previously conducted ; he induced the Greeks to release several of their captives, v4iom he sent safe to Prevesa, hoping that the Turks might be induced to exhibit the same generosity toward their prisoners. His attention was next directed to forming a brigade of Suliotes, five hundred of whom he had in his own pay, designing to lead them to the attack of Lepanto. But the insubordination of these fierce mountaineers, the want of provisions and the munitions of war, together with the mutual disputes of the Greek chiefs, frustrated his efforts. These annoyances combined with the un- healthy atmosphere of Missolonghi to throw him into a fever, which, being neglected in its early stages, soon assumed a dangerous type. He displayed great firm- ness when conscious of the approach of death, lamenting chiefly the impossibility of bidding farewell to his beloved child. On the morning of the 19th of April, 1824, he expired. The death of Lord Byron produced a great and mournful sensation throughout the civilized world ; his exertions for the liberation of Greece had shaded over D 38 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. his eiTors, and, in the first burst of sorrow for his loss, they were quite forgotten. Every token of respect, which reverence could suggest, was paid to his remains by the authorities of Missolonghi ; they were sent to England, and, though refused admission into West- minster Abbey, the church near Newstead, where they repose, has become a place of pilgrimage for the lovers of poetic genius. Among the many tributes paid to the memory of the departed poet, none is more touching and beautiful than that which Sir Walter Scott sent at the time to one of the Edinburgh papers. While ample justice is done to Byron's merits, his defects are delicately indicated, without being palliated or excused. We cannot better conclude this sketch, than by quoting this tribute, from the greatest of modern Scottish, to the gi'eatest of modern English poets. " Amidst the general calmness of the political atmos- phere, we have been stunned, from another quarter, by one of those death-notes which are pealed at intervals, as from an archangel's ti'umpet, to awaken the soul of a whole people at once. Lord Byron, who has so long and so amply filled the highest place in the public eye, has shared the lot of humanity. That mighty genius, which walked among men as something superior to ordinary mortality, and whose powers were beheld with wonder, and something approaching to terror, as if we knew not whether they were of good or of evil, is laid as soundly to rest as the poor peasant, whose ideas went not beyond his daily task. The voice of just blame and of malignant censure are at once silenced ; and we feel almost as if the gi-eat luminary of heaven had sud- denly disappeared from the sky at the moment when every telescope was leveled for the examination of the spots which dimmed its brightness. It is not now the question, what were Byron's faults, what his inistakes ; but, how is the blank which he has left in British literature to be filled up ? Not, we fear, in one genera- tion, which, among many highly-gifted persons, has produced none which approached Lord Byron in orig- inality, the first attribute of genius. Only thirty-six years old — so much already done for immortality — so LORD BVRO.N. 39 much time remaiuiug, as it seemed to us shoit-sigliled mortals, to maintain and to extend his fame, and to atone for errors in conduct and levities in composition, — who will not grieve that such a race has been shortened, though not always keeping the straight path, — such a light extinguished, thougli sometimes flaming to dazzle and to bewilder ? One word on this ungrateful subject, ere we quit it forever. The errors of Lord Byron arose neitlier from depravity of heart — for Nature had not committed the anomaly of uniting to such extraor- dinary talents an imperfect moral sense — nor from feelings dead to the admiration of virtue. No man had ever a kinder heart for sympathy, or a more open hand for the relief of distress ; and no mind was ever more formed for the enthusiastic admiration of noble actions, providing he was convinced that the actors had pro- ceeded on disinterested principles. Remonstrances from a friend, of whose intentions and kindness he was secure, had often great weight with him ; but there were few who would venture on a task so difficult. Reproof he endured with impatience, and reproach hardened him in his error ; so that he often resembled the gallant war-steed, who rushes fonvard on the steel that wounds him. In the most painful crisis of his private life, he evinced this irritability and impatience of censure to such a degree, as almost to resemble the noble victim of the bull-fight, which is more maddened by the squibs, darts, and petty annoyances of the unworthy crowds beyond the lists, than by the lance of his nobler, and, so to speak, his more legitimate antagonist. In a word, much of that in which he erred was in bravado, and scorn of his censors, and was done, with the motive of Dryden's despot, 'to show his arbitrary power.' " As various in composition as Shakspeare himself (this will be admitted by all who are acquainted with his ' Don Juan'), he has embraced every topic of human life, and sounded every string on the divine harp, from its slightest to its most powerful and heart-astounding tones. There is scarce a passion or a situation which has escaped his pen ; and he might be drawn like Gar- rick, between the weeping and the laughing Muse, although his more powerful efforts have certainly been 40 MODEliN BRITISH PLUTARCH. devoted to Melpoiiieue. His genius seemed as prolific as var'ous. The most prodigal use did not exhaust his powers, — nay, seemed rather to increase their vigor. Neither ' Childe Harold,' nor any of the most beautiful of Byron's earlier tales, contain more exquisite morsels of poetry than are to be found scattered through the cantos of ' Don Juan,' amidst verses which the author appears to have thrown off with an etiurt iis spontaneous as that of a tree resigning its leaves to the wind. But that noble tree wall never more bear fruit or blossom! It has been cut down in its strength, and the past is all that remains to us of Byron. We can scarcely reconcile ourselves to the idea — scarce think that the voice is silent forever, which, bursting so often on our ear, was often heard with rapturous admiration, sometimes with regret, but ahvays with the deepest interest. ' All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest.' With a sti'ong feeling of awful sorrow w^e take leave of the subject. Death creeps upon our most serious as well as upon our most idle employments ; and it is a reflection solemn and gratifying, that he found our Byron in no moment of levity, but contributing his fortune, and hazarding his life, in behalf of a people only endeared to him by their own past glories, and as fellow^ creatures suffering under the yoke of a heathen oppressor. To have fallen in a crusade for freedom and humanity, as in olden tunes it w^ould have been an atonement for the blackest crimes, may, in the present, be allow^ed to expiate greater follies than even exag- gerating calumny has propagated against Byron," GEORGE CANNING. Few liven have been so popular in the House of Com- mons as Mr. Cunning, and still fewer have won their way against greater prejudices. His father, a gentle- man of some literary reputation, having offended his wealthy family by marrying a lady whose only fault was want of fortune, came to London with the hope of earning independence at the English bar. He w^as received into the society of the leading writers of the day, and was induced by Churchill to become a partisan of the celebrated John Wilkes. Finding that his suc- cess at the bar did not answer his expectations, he entered into business, but for this he was ill-quahfied, and he died when his son was only twelve months old. The boy was born in Marylebone, April 11th, 1770;^ his mother had recourse to the stage for the support of herself and her infant son, but her success was not great, and Canning would probably have been consigned to obscurity, had not his paternal uncle, a merchant of some eminence, undertaken the charge of his education. Perceiving early indications of great talent in the boy, he sent him to Eton, where his success was so gi-eat that he became senior scholar when only in his fifteenth year. During his residence at this school he projected and edited a periodical called " The Microcosm," in which he was aided by some of his school-fellows, par- ticularly J. and R. Smith, Hookham Freer, and Lord Robert Spencer. Canning's contributions to this juve- nile miscellany display much sprightliness and ready wit, but also much immaturity of thought and uncer- 42 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tainty of purpose. The best epigram attributed to him at this time was written on the appearance of a rival publication from Westminster School, with a frontis- piece representing both periodicals weighed in a bal- ance, the Westminster greatly outweighing its opponent. On this Canning wrote — "What mean you by this print so rare, Ye wits of Eton jealous, But that your rivals mount in air, And you are heavy fellows ?" On quitting Eton, in 1787, Canning entered Christ- church, Oxford, where he amply maintained the repu- tation he had acquired in Eton. He left the University without taking a degree, but through life he retained an affectionate regard for Oxford ; and, on one occasion, referring to the sacrifices he had made in favor of Cath- olic Emancipation, he declared that the most cherished object of his ambition had been at one time or other to represent the University of Oxford. After quitting the University he became a student at Lincoln's Inn ; but Sheridan, who was his relation, having introduced him to Burke, he was induced to abandon professional stud- ies, and prepare himself for political life. It was sup- posed that he would have joined the ranks of opposition, and Sheridan went so far as to name him in parliament as the future and powerful advocate of liberal opinions. But from this course he appears to have been early dis- suaded by Burke, who at all times disliked Sheridan, and who had just separated from Mr. Fox on the ques- tion of the French Revolution. Several of Canning's friends, both at school and college, were associated with Mr. Pitt, and through them he was introduced to the premier, then anxious to secure the aid of men of tal- ent, to resist the powerful orators who occupied the benches of the opposition. Under the auspices of the minister, Mr. Canning entered parliament as member for Newport, in the Isle of Wight ; but he did not, as was expected, present himself early to the notice of the House, being anxious previously to make himself acquainted with its forms. His first speech was deliv- ered in defence of the subsidy grunted to the king of GEORGE CANNING. 43 Sardinia, and it was far fi-om maintaining the high expectations that had been formed of his eloquence. He assumed the tone of an advocate rather than a statesman, and the levity with which he ti-eated Fox and the great leaders of opposition, was not unjustly regarded as an indiscreet presumption rather than a proof of conscious ability. This was, however, a fail- ure incidental to the overweening confidence of youth ; during the progress of the war, Canning, to whom the defence of the ministerial measures, in what may be called skirmishing debates, was chiefly intrusted, ac- quired the habits and facilities of a ready speaker ; but this indiscriminate support of ministerial measures ex- posed him to the imputation of being a retained advocate rather than a zealous partisan. His entrance into office as Under-Secretary of State contiibuted to this impres- sion ; the gentleman who was superannuated to make room for him was still in the prime of life, and this appearance of jobbing in his first official appointment injured his fame and weakened his influence. Canning, however, was sincere in his ardent attachment to Pitt; he enjoyed that minister's confidence, he knew that the premier was often coerced into a policy of which he disapproved, and he firmly believed that the salvation of the country was identified with his patron's ascendency. Lord Brougham justly says of this period of Canning's life, "He began his career in the most troublous period of the storm (arising out of the French Revolution) ; and it happened to him, as to all men, that the tone of his sentiments upon state affairs was very much influ- enced through after-life by the events which first awa- kened his ambition or directed his earliest pursuit of glory. The atrocities of the French Jacobins — the thoughtless violence of the extreme democratic party in this country, reduced by those atrocities to a small body — the spirit of aggi'ession, which the conduct of her neighbors had just revised in France, and which unex- ampled victories soon raised to a pitch that endangered all national independence — led Mr. Canning, with many others who were naturally friendly to liberty, into a course of hostility towards all change, because they became accustomed to confound reform with revolution, 44 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. auJ to dread nothing so much as the mischiefs which popular violence had produced in France, and with which the march of Frauch conquests threatened to desolate Europe. Thus it came to pass, that the most vigorous and active portion of his life was spent in opposing all reforms ; in patronizing the measures of coercion into which Mr. Pitt had, so unhappily for his fame and for ' his country, been seduced by the alarms of weak and by the selfish schemes of unprincipled men ; and in resist- ing the attempts which friends of peace persevered to make for terminating hostilities, so long the curse, and still, by their fruits, the bane of the empire." In 1799, Mr. Canning distinguished himself by his able advocacy of the legislative union between England and Ireland ; in the discussions that ensvied, he exhib- ited great dexterity in evading the question of Catholic Emancipation, though it is tolerably certain that on this subject he agreed with Mr. Pitt, believing that Ireland could not be firmly united to England, so long as a ma- jority of its inhabitants remained subject to disqualifica- tions which kept them a distinct body, outside the pale of the British constitution. During the same year Can- ning married a lady of wealth, whose fortune insured him political independence, while her connection with the Down and Portland families greatly increased his political importance. About the same time, in con- nection with Ellis and Freer, he established the " Anti- jacobin Review," a periodical of great abilitj% but in the management of which, the violence and malignity of party were even more conspicuous than the talent. Among Canning's contributions, two still survive — ^liis "Loves of the Triangles," a clever parody on Darwin's forgotten poem of " The Loves of the Plants," and the mock tragedy of " The Rovers," in which the extrava- gances for which the German drama was then conspic- uous, were very happily ridiculed. On the resignation of Mr. Pitt, in 1801, Canning re- tired with his patron from office. Whatever may have been Mr. Pitt's real design in aba^idoning the guidance of affairs to Addington — whether he sought this as a means of evading the Catholic question, or whether h© wished to evade the necessity of concluding peace with GEORGE CANNING. 45 France, which was now unavoidable — it is certain that Canning, from the very beginning, regarded the change with great dislike, and secretly exerted himself to sever Pitt from the new administration. He did not wait for the open quarrel, but assailed Addington with poetical squibs and lampoons, even while he voted for his meas- ures. When Mr. Pitt avowedly went into opposition, Canning still more pointedly attacked Addington's feeble administration, and, both in verse and prose, endeav- ored, not without success, to persuade the nation that the only hope for the successful management of the renewed war rested on Mr. Pitt's return to power. On this occasion he wrote the popular song in which Mr. Pitt was celebrated as "The Pilot that weathered the storm," a production which had much more success than its poetical merits justified. Mr. Canning's con- duct at this crisis has been very severely criticised: and it must be confessed that some of his speeches and lam- poons displayed more of sarcasfic talent than of good feeling or good taste ; but his efforts to effect Pitt's restoration were not connected with any schemes for his own aggrandizement, since, on the restoration of his patron to power, he was contented with the inferior post of Treasurer of the Navy, which did not give him a seat in the cabinet. The subsequent reconciliation between Pitt and Addington, which was mainly effected by the intervention of the king, placed Canning in an awkward situation, since he had to serve under one, who, with the title of Lord Sidmouth, had become Pres- ident of the Council, for whose conduct and abilities he had expressed the utmost scorn and contempt. He stood by Pitt in his strenuous but unavailing effort to avert the impeachment of Lord Melville; and he endeav- ored to revive his courage when the disasters of the allies on the continent dissolved the coahtion which he had devoted all his energies to form. Mr. Pitt's death broke up his ministry ; but it left Mr. Canning free to act without a master, and from this time forward his political course began to assume the character of self- dependence, the want of which had been previously its greatest defect. The new ministry, formed on the death of Pitt, which 46 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. received the nickname of "All the Taleats," was formed from three parties, no two of which had been accus- tomed to act together ; the leaders of these parties were Lord Grenville, Lord Sidmouth, and Mr. Fox, men who had few interests and still fewer sentiments in common. Canning led the opposition against this apparently for- midable phalanx, and his pertinacious attacks are said to have hastened Fox's death ; the same hostility was ex- hibited to Lords Grey and Grenville, who continued the administration, and when they were finally dismissed from office, Canning exulted over them in some poetica' effusions which reflected little credit on his powers, and still less on his integiity. In fact, he was himself, but to a far greater extent, guilty of the very conduct he had condemned in them. Though a conscientious friend to Catholic Emancipation, he accepted office as Secretaiy for Foreign Affairs in the cabinet formed by Spencer Percival, though that cabinet was pledged to the most bitter hostility against the Catholic claims. On this subject Lord Brougham observes: "Mr. Canning rea- soned himself into a belief, which he was wont to pro- fess, that no man can serve his country with effect out of office, as if there were no public in this country ; as if there were no parliament — no forum — no press; as if the government were in the hands of a vizier, to whom the Turk had given his signet ring, or a favorite, to whom the czarina had thrown her handkerchief; as if the patriot's vocation and the voice of public virtue were heard no more ; as if the people were without power over their rulers, and only existed to be taxed and obey ! A more pernicious maxim never entered the mind of a public man, nor one more fitted to undermine his public virtue." Canning did not find his position as minister so favor- able to his projects of serving his country as he had anti- cipated ; his counsels had little influence with the govern- ment, while his office compelled him to defend meas- ures in public of which he disapproved in private. This discrepancy between his speeches and his real senti- ments was soon detected by the opposition, and they now bitterly retorted the sarcasms with which he had annoyed them during their brief tenure of office. Im- GEORGE CANNING. 47 patient of such a position, Canning threatened to resign, unless the cabinet should be modified and strengthened, particularly insisting on the removal of the Secretary at War, Lord Castlereagh, with whom, as Foreign Secre- tary, he frequently came into collision. These circum- stances becoming known to Lord Castlereagh, he ac- cused his colleague of treachery and duplicity; a duel ensued, in which Mr. Canning was wounded, but !,^efore going out to fight he had resigned his office. It was expected at the time that Mr. Canning would have joined the ranks of opposition, but he was unwilling to put in jeopardy his chances of return to office, and, though his exclusion lasted longer than he had probably expected, he took care to manifest no signs of anger or disappointment. Immediately after the assassination of Mr. Percival, in 1812, Lord Liverpool, by the election of his colleagues, was placed at the head of the ministry, and as he was personally attached to Mr. Canning, he offered him a seat in the Cabinet. The overture was rejected in consequence of the reluctance of the ministers to take into consideration the state of the Catholic question ; but the House of Commons having addressed the Prince Regent " to form a strong and efficient administration," his royal highness confided the task to the Marquis of Wellesley and Mr. Canning. They entered into negotia- tion with Lord Liverpool on one side, and with Lords Grey and Grenville on the other ; but finding it impos- sible to prevail on the former to undertake the settle- ment of the Catholic claims, or on the latter to agree to a strenuous prosecution of the war in Spain, they re- signed their commission. Mr. Canning shortly after- ward brought forward a motion in the House of Com- mons, which was carried by a majority of 129, that the House would early in the next session take into its most serious consideration, the state of the law affecting the Catholics. This pledge was fulfilled : a bill of emanci- pation was introduced, and by the exertions of Grattan, Plunkett, Canning, and several other statesmen, it was carried Iriumphantly through the earlier stages, but the most important clause having been defeated in commit- tee, the measure was abandoned. Though opposed to 48 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the course of policy adopted by the majority of the cab- inet on this question, Mr. Canning strenuously supported them in the more vigorous prosecution of the war, to which they were incited by the successes of Wellington in Spain, and the disasters of Napoleon in Russia ; though not in place, he gave such vigorous support to the administration, that the premier might almost have regarded him as a colleague. A Httle after Napoleon's abdication, Mr. Canning resolved to visit Lisbon, for the purpose of restoring his eldest son to health by a change of climate. Lord Liverpool immediately proposed to him to go to Lisbon as ambassador, for though there was then neither court nor sovereign in Lisbon, it was expected that the Prince Regent of Portugal would return from his exile in Brazil, to rule in his native land. This expectation was not fulfilled ; and though Mr. Canning at the end of a year resigned the embassy, he was very severely censured for having accepted what proved to be a sinecure office. On his return to England in 1816, Mr. Canning found the country in a state of great distraction and distress, both mainly arising from a deficient supply of food, pro- duced by the joint operation of the corn-laws and a bad harvest. A large and increasing party sought a remedy for the evil in such a sweeping reform of parliament as the ministers and most of the landed gentry believed equivalent to an overthrow of the constitution ; and as Mr. Canning was a steady opponent of reform, he was again invited to take a share in the government. His personal difterences with Lord Castlereagh were easily arranged, and the Catholic question was declared to be a matter on which each member of the government might vote according to his individual opinion. It would be veiy painful and not very interesting to enter into any examination of the violence displayed in the Radical agitation of 1817 and 1819, or of the measures of repres- sion adopted by the government. Mr. Canning placed himself in the van of the battle, and assailed the plans of the Radicals with as much severity as he displayed spirit in defending the conduct of the government. His conduct on this occasion was bitterly assailed both within and without the walls of Parliament ; nor must it be con- GEORGE CANNING. 49 cealed that lie had indulged in some incautious expres- sions, which were fairly open to censure. More abund- ant supplies of food, and, as a necessary consequence, a great increase of trade and employment, did more to restore public tranquillity than acts of coercion, and the Radical agitation faded away in the sunshine of return- ing prosperity. The death of George III. in- 18-20, raised a hew agi- tation of a different and more perplexing character : the Prince of Wales had separated from the princess, with a fixed and avowed determination ne-ver to meet her again in public or in private. She had taken advantage of the peace to go abroad, and the reports which were current of her conduct on the Continent, accused her of the most open profligacy. Unfortunately, at the mo- ment of the king's accession, the ministers w^ere obliged to pronounce sentence on the queen's conduct without any formal investigation, for they had to determine whether her name should be inserted or omitted in the Liturgy. It was decided that her name should be omitted, upon which she resolved to come to England and demand a trial : this was a step for which the min- isters were unprepared, and her arrival in England threw the cabinet into a state of painful perplexity. Two days after her landing a message was sent from the king to Parliament, accompanied by a green bag of documents, the contents of which w^ere to be referred to secret committees, for the purpose of inquiring whether there w^ere any grounds for further proceed- ings. On a former occasion Mr. Canning had been the con- fidential adviser of the Princess of Wales, and he had on many occasions spoken of her in terms of respect and regard. So soon as he found that it was resolved to proceed against the queen by a bill of pains and penal- ties, he tendered his resignation, which, however, the king refused to receive, but he gave Mr. Canning per- mission to withdraw from any share in the proceedings against her majesty. Mr. Canning, in consequence, went on the Coeitinent ; but this was not his only motive for seeking a change. In the preceding March he had lost his eldest son, a youth of extraordinary promise and 50 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. merit. The verses which the afflicted father caused to be inscribed on the monument that covered the be- loved remains are, perhaps, the most touching specimen of paternal grief that was ever sculptured in marble. They are as follows : — " Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd decrees Which made that shorten'd span one long disease, Yet, merciful and chastening, gave thee scope For mild, redeeming virtues, ifaith and hope ; Meek resignation ; pious charity ; And, since this world is not a world for thee. Far from thy path remov'd, with partial care. Strife, glory, gain, and pleasure's flowery snare ; Bade earth's temptations pass thee harmless by, And fixed on Heaven thine unreverted eye. Oh ! mark'd from birth and nurtured for the skies In youth with more than learning's wisdom wise ! As sainted martyrs, patient to endure ! Simple as unwean'd infancy, and pure ! Pure from all stain (save that of human clay Which Christ's atoning blood hath wash'd away !) By mortal sufferings now no more oppress'd. Mount, sinless spirit, to thy destined rest ! Whilst I, revers'd our nature's kindlier doom. Pour forth a father's sorrows on thy tomb." When the ti'ial of the queen was brought to an abrupt close, Mr. Canning returned to England, and to avoid taking any part in the debates which were certain to follow, again tendered his resignation of the Presidency of the Board of Control, which was reluctantly accepted. This was no sooner known at the India House than the Court of Directors unanimously voted an address, ex- pressive of their regret at his retirement, and the senti- ments of the directors were subsequently adopted by a resolution of the Court of Proprietors. Such an hon- orable testimony is without a parallel in the history of the Company. While out of office, Mr. Canning car- ried in the House of Commons a bill for restoring Cath- olic peers to their hereditary privileges, but it was lost in the House of Lords. His able administi-ation of Indian affairs was not forgotten when the retirement of the Marquis of Hastings rendered it necessary to appoint a new Governor General for India. This high office was GEORGE CANNliNG. 51 tendered to Mr. Canning, and accepted ; preparations were made for his departure, and lie went down to Liv- erpool, which he had represented for ten years, to take leave of his constituents. His reception was trium- phant ; many of those who had been his most violent opponents took occasion to show their respect for his virtues and his tfdents ; and never, perhaps, were mu- tual displays of feeling more honorable to a representa- tive and a constituency. The whole aspect of public affairs was suddenly changed by the suicide of the Marquis of Londonderry, who, as Lord Castlereagh, had often been brought into contact and contrast with Canning as a rival and a col- league. Public opinion nominated Canning to the office of Foreign Secretary thus vacated, the moment that the event was known. Lord Liverpool had been long anxious to have the aid of such an able colleague ; but there were many difficulties to be overcome, for Canning was dishked by many )nembers of the cabinet, and his conduct on the queen's trial had given some offence to the king. He was, moreover, himself dis- posed to proceed to India, as had been arranged, believ- ing that his power, being there unimpeded, could be exerted most beneficially for the prosperity of the Bri- tish empire. It was not until the 16th of September that Mr. Canning received the seals of office from the king, and from that day there appeared a marked change in the foreign policy of the country. At this period the great continental powers, united in what was called the Holy Alliance, had resolved to suppress by force the efforts that were made to substitute constitutional for absolute government in various parts of Europe. A French army was preparing to invade Spain, for the purpose of restoring the despotic authority of Ferdi- nand ; and efforts were made to bring a Russian army into western Europe, to check all encroachments on monarchical power. Spain and Naples had been revolu- tionized ; a constitutional government had been estab- lished in Portugal ; Germany was agitated ; Greece was in open insurrection against the Turks ; France was discontented ; and, beyond the Atlantic, the Spanish colonies of South America had thrown off the yoke of 52 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the mother countiy. At snch a crisis the destinies of the world seemed to depend on the course of foreign pohcy adopted by England. If her weight was thrown into the scale of the allied sovereigns, despotism seemed likely to be restored, and a sudden check given to all political improvement; on the other hand, if England joined the revolutionary party, it would have been scarcely possible to avert the calamities of a general war. Under these circumstances, Mr. Canning adopted the middle course of mediating between the conflicting principles, and asserting national independence for each state. The invasion of Spain could not be averted, but the recognition of the independence of the republics of Mexico, Columbia, Buenos Ayres, and the other states formed out of the old Spanish colonies, more than coun- teracted the effect of the success which the French had obtained. Mr. Canning also took every means of showing, that the forcible restoration of Ferdinand to despotic power by the French arms was disapproved by England, and that our neutrality in the contest arose from no dictation or fear, but from a prudent considera- tion of all the circumstances. An opportunity for this exposition was offered when he was presented with the freedom of the borough of Plymouth, and the speech which he made on the occasion created a profound sen- sation in Europe. The following passage in this mem- orable oration will be, as it deserves to be, inmiortal : — " The resources created by peace are the means of war. In cherishing these resources, we but accumulate those means. Our present repose is no more a proof of inability to act than the state of inertness and inactiv- ity in which I have seen those mighty masses* that float in the waters above your town, is a proof that they are devoid of strength, and incapable of being fitted out for action. You well know, gentlemen, how soon one of those stupendous masses, now reposing on their shadows in perfect stillness — how soon, upon any call of patriotism or of necessity, it would assume the likeness of an animated thing, instinct with life and motion — how soon it would ruffle, as it were, its swelling plumage ; how quickly it would put forth its scattered elements of * Ships of war laid up in ordinary. GEORGE CANNING. 53 strength, and awaken its dormant thunder. Such as is one of those magnificent machines, when springing from inaction into a display of its might; such is Eng- land herseh', while, apparently passive and motionless, she silently concentrates the power to be put forth on an adequate occasion. But God forbid that that occa- sion should arise !" Mr, Canning's return to office under a premier op- posed to Catholic Emancipation exposed him to some severe censure, and he was harshly attacked by Mr. Brougham in the House of Commons : irritated beyond control, he directly charged his assailants with falsehood, and a painful scene of explanations followed. But as Canning's course of foreign policy became developed, the liboal party in the House of Commons began to view his course with favor, and gave him efficient sup- port on several occasions. The ameliorations intro- duced by Mr. Huskisson into our fiscal code, by which many onerous restrictions on foreign commerce were removed, received the ardent support of the foreign secretary. In one of these debates he thus described his idea of the duty of a statesman : — ■ " I consider it to be the duty of a British statesman, in internal as well as external affairs, to hold a middle course between extremes ; avoiding alike the extrava- gances of despotism, or the licentiousness of unbridled freedom ; reconciling power with liberty — not adopting hasty or ill-advised experiments, or pursuing any airy and unsubstantial theories ; not rejecting, nevertheless, the application of sound and wholesome knowledge to practical affairs, and pressing, with sobriety and caution, into the service of his country, any generous and liberal principles, whose excess, indeed, may be dangerous, but whose foundation is in truth. This, in my mind, IS the true conduct of a British statesman ; but they who resist indiscriminately all improvements, as inno- vations, may find themselves compelled to submit to innovations, although they are not improvements." It was, however, on the occasion of sending a British expedition to Portugal, the constitution of which was menaced by the Spanish Absolutists, that Mr. Canning's vigor in action and eloquence in debate shone most con- e2 54 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. spicuous. The troops were on their march to the place of embarkation two days after the intelligence of the Spanish invasion arrived, and Mr. Canning con- cluded a speech of unrivaled power with the following noble peroi^ation : — "Let us fly to the aid of Portugal, by whomsoever attacked, because it is our duty to do so ; and let us cease our interference where that duty ends. We go to Portugal, not to rule, not to dictate, not to prescribe constitutions, but to defend and to pre- serve the independence of an ally. We go to plant the standard of England on the well-known heights of Lis- bon. Where that standard is planted, foreign dominion shall not come." On the 5th of Januaiy, 1827, the Duke of York, whose opinions on the Catholic question made him the political enemy of Mr. Canning, sank under an attack of long and painful illness. At his funeral Canning caught a severe cold, from the effects of which he never per- fectly recovered, and, while still confined to his room, he learned that the premier, Lord Liverpool, had been attacked with a fit of apoplexy, which reduced him to a state of total insensibility. At this crisis the Catholic question was brought before the House of Commons, and Canning, though far from being i estored to health, supported it with more than his usual zeal and eloquence ; the motion was, however, lost by a majority of four. Lord Liveriwol's recovery appearing hopeless, Mr. Canning was empowered by the king to reconstruct the administration, and to assume, himself, the rank of premier, with the oflfices of First Lord of the Treasuiy and Chancellor of the Exchequer. The Duke of Wel- lington, Lord Eldon, Mr. Peel, and other anti-Catholic members of Lord Liverpool's government, inmiediately resigned, and their places were temporarily supplied by personal friends of Mr. Canning, it being understood that a portion of the Whig party should form part of the administration at the end of the session. During his brief career as premier, Mr. Canning underwent many mortifications ; his measure for modifying the corn-laws was defeated in the House of Lords, by the influence of the Duke of WeUington, and a new scale of duties substituted, which he thoroughly disapproved. GEORGE CANNING. 55 It was, however, declared that this important subject should be brought before parliament in the ensuing ses- sion, but that session the premier was not destined to behold. Immediately after the prorogation his health rapidly declined, and on the 20th of July he went to the Duke of Devonshire's villa at Chiswick, for change of air. On the 3d of August his disease assumed a form which deprived the physicians of hope, and on the 8th he expired. Few statesmen have been more gen- erally lamented ; a peerage was conferred on his widow, a large sum was raised by private subscription, for erect- ing a monument to his name, and his funeral, though private, was attended by hundreds who sincerely mourned his loss. The lines written on the funeral by Lord Morpeth, equally honorable to tlie living and the dead, will appropriately terminate our account of this gi'eat orator and statesman : — " I stood beside his tomb ; no choral strain Peal'd through the aisle, above the mourning train ; But purer, hoUer, seem'd to rise above The silent sorrow of a people's love. No banner'd scroll, no trophied car was there ; No gleaming arms, no torches' murky glare : The plain and decent homage best defin'd The simple tenor of his mighty mind. His hard-earned, self-acquired, enduring fame Needs not what wealth may buy or birth may claim ; His worth, his deeds, no storied urns confine — The page of England's glory is their shrine. Are others wanting ? Mark the dawn of peace That gilds the struggle of regenerate Greece ; On Lisbon's heights see Britain's flag unfurl'd, — See Freedom bursting o'er an infant world. Ask ye how some have loved, how all revere ? Survey the group that bends around his bier ; — Read well the heaving breast, the stifled moan, — Kings with their kingdoms could not win that groan." EARL OF CHATHAM. Although the Earl of Chatham can hardly be re- garded as a contemporaiy of the illustrious men whose lives are recorded in this volume, most of whom be- longed to a later generation, yet the authority which his influence and example had with most succeeding statesmen, the impulse he gave to parliamentary elo- quence, and the public spirit which he excited in the nation, produced such permanent effects, that we must pay rather a disproportionate share of attention to his illusti'ious career. He was born in Westminster, Nov. 15, 1705; his father was a respectable Cornish gentle- man, of moderate fortune. He perceived the early in- dications of talent in William, w4io was a younger son, and sent him to Eton, from whence, after the usual course of study, he removed to Oxford. The death of his father so reduced his means that he did not take his degi-ee at the university, but after a short tour on the Continent entered the army as a cornet of horse. In the year 1735, he obtained a seat in Parliament as mem- ber for Old Sarum, a borough belonging to his relative, Lord Camelford. At this time. Sir Robert AValpole held the office of premier, and was supported by the whole authority of the court, and by large majorities in Parliament. His administi-ation had been useful rather than briUiant ; his great object was to preserve the peace of Europe, and, by the aid of Cardinal Fleury, the prime minister of France, he was perfectly successful. A strong opposi- tion had been formed, however, against Walpole ; it EARL OF CHATHAM. 57 included all the Tory party, more especially those who retained a lingering affection for the house of Stuart — a large body of discontented Whigs, who thought that they had not obtained their fair share of the emolu- ments of office — and the personal friends of Frederic Prince of Wales, who had long been at variance with his royal father. Pitt joined the ranks of opposition, without, however, formally adhering to any of the par- ties into which it was divided ; he professed to act as an independent patriot, a character at all times difficult to maintain, but which at this period of our history was scarcely intelligible to the nation. The severity with which Spain enforced the monopoly of its ti-ade with its colonies, and the claims she made to vast tracts of land between Mexico and the British settlements in North America, had been the source of frequent disputes with Great Britain. Walpole, anxious for peace, concluded a convention with the court of Madrid, on terms which were thought derogatory to the honor of the British people. Pitt, whom Walpole had aheady designated as "the terrible cornet of horse," took the lead in denoun- cing this convention. Few questions could have been better suited to a young and enthusiastic orator : the freedom of the seas, the might and right of the British flag,' the jealousy of Spain, and her inhuman policy, were subjects that have always excited the English people. These topics, urged with unusual fervor and unrivaled eloquence, produced a powerful effect, and shook the minister's power to its foundation. Spain did not fulfil the terms of the convention, and Walpole was forced to declare war at a time when the nation was ill- prepared for hostilities. Several losses of merchant- ships, captured by Spanish cruisers, so increased the minister's unpopularity, that the opposition ventured to propose his impeachment, but the motion was rejected by a large majority. This victory was, however, the herald of defeat ; the conduct of the war continued to be disgi'aceful to the administi'ation, and it was generally believed that the interests of England had been sacri- ficed to gratify the king's partiality for the electorate of Hanover. Early in 1742 it became evident that the minister could no longer calculate on a majority in the 58 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. House of Commons ; on the 28th of Januaiy he was left in a minority, and immediately after resigned office. Pitt, Littleton, the Grenvilles, and some other young members whom Walpole had been accustomed to ridi- cule as " the boy patriots," wished to have a parliamen- tary inquiry into the conduct of the fallen minister ; Pitt was particularly vehement ; he insisted on reviving the impeachment, he denounced the favor shown to Hano- ver, and even proposed that no standing army should be maintained in time of peace. But Pulteney, and the Pelhams, who succeeded Walpole, Avere unwilling to proceed to such extremes. On the contrary, they tacitly adopted the very course of policy which they had previously condemned, and they were denounced as ren- egades by Pitt and his associates. The old Duchess of Marlborough was so pleased with the spu'it of the young statesman, that she bequeathed him ten thousand pounds, as she declared, "upon ac- count of his merit in the noble defence he has made for the support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country." George H. was much displeased by the attacks that had been made on his Hanoverian pohcy, and the main- tenance of a standing army. Pitt was informed that he must make concessions on both points before he could be admitted to office, and he soon showed that he was not unwilling to court the royal favor by large sacrifices of opinion, and perhaps of principle. He vindicated the interference of England in continental affairs, he aban- doned the claim to the exemption from search for British ships when found on the coast of South America, which he had been the most sti-enuous in maintaining against Sir Robert Walpole ; and he no longer showed any constitutional jealousy of a standing army. On the latter point, the dangerous rebellion of 1745 may very fairly excuse a change of sentiment. His pliancy was re- warded by the Pelhams, who now directed the admin- istration ; he was appointed Vice-Treasurer of Ireland, and soon after Paymaster-General. The Duke of Newcastle was an ambitious but not a clever man ; his brother, however, Mr. Henry Pelham, hnd many of the most eminent qualities of a statesman, EARL OF CHATHAM. 59 and the petty intrigues of the duke gave him gi'eat grief and annoyance, but he remonstrated against them in vain. Pitt %yas frequently invited to act as a mediator in these fraternal quarrels, so that on the death of Mr. Pelham, in 1754, he had some expectations that the Duke of Newcastle would offer him the place of Secre- tary of State. He vented his disappointment by oppos- ing the ministerial measures, without however resigning office, and in this unusual course he was supported by Mr. Legge, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. " Mr. Pitt," says Horace Walpole, in one of his letters, "h-as f'jroke with the Duke of Newcastle on the want of power, and has alarmed the dozing House of Commons with some sentences, extremely in the style of his former Pittites.'''' He was, in consequence, dismissed from office, together with his friends, Mr. Legge and George Grenville. Having once more taken his place in oppo- sition, Pitt assailed the Newcastle ministry with une- qualed force. The reports of parliamentary proceed- ings, at this period, were so imperfect that no reliance can be placed upon their accuracy ; we shall therefore quote from Walpole's amusing letters, an account of his appearance in one of these debates. " I never heard as much wit as in a speech with which Mr. Pitt concluded the debate t'other day on the treaties. His antagonists endeavor to disarm him, but as fast as they deprive him of one weapon he finds a better ; I never suspected him of such a universal armory. I knew he had a Gorgon's head, composed of bayonets and pistols, but little thought he could tickle to death with a feather. On the first debate on these famous treaties, last Wednesday, Hume Campbell, whom the Duke of Newcastle had retained as the most abusive counsel he could find against Pitt (and, hereafter, perhaps against Fox), attacked the for- mer for eternal invectives. Oh ! since the last philippic of Billingsgate memory you never heard such an invec- tive as Pitt returned ! Hume Campbell was annihilated. Pitt, like an angry wasp, seems to have left his sting in the wound, and has since assumed a style of delicate ridicule and repartee. But think how charming a ridi- cule must that be, that lasts, and rises, flash after flash, for an hour and a half! Some day or other, perhaps. 60 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. you will see some of the glittering splinters that I gath- ered up." The Duke of Newcastle vainly made overtures of re- conciliation to Mr. Pitt ; the unpopularity of the admin- istration increased so rapidly, that the king was obliged, much against his will, to form a new cabinet, in which the Duke of Devonshire was nominally premier, and Pitt, Legge, and Grenville, the most influential members. Pitt exerted himself with gi-eat vigor to remedy the losses that the English had sustained in America, and he hon- orably endeavored to save Admiral Byng, who was sac- rificed to popular clamor. But his exertions were inter- rupted by the personal animosity of the king ; Pitt, Legge, and Earl Temple were deprived of office, and for several weeks the country was virtually without an administration. But, though unceremoniously removed by the king, Pitt was now idolized by the country. Ad- dresses of approbation were sent to him from all parts of the kingdom, and he was " borne back to the cabinet on the shoulders of the people.'' He resumed his old office as secretary, w^ith the power of premier, leaving to the Duke of Newcastle the name and patronage of First Lord of the Treasury. Although this administi-ation was the most brilliant part of Pitt's career, yet his first measures were badly contrived, and worse executed. Three successive ex- peditions against the sea-ports of France led to very inadequate results, and the first attempts to repair the disasters in America were unsuccessful. It was, how- ever, his good fortune to find admirals and generals able to comprehend the extent of his plans ; Hawke and Howe amply retrieved the naval honors of Britain ; and AVolfe, whom Pitt had himself brought forward, won on-e of the most glorious victories, at Quebec, that ever gi-aced the British arms, but, unfortunately, fell on the field of battle. In three years the popular statesman raised England from depression and despondency, into a situation to give laws to Europe, and, during that time, he converted into confidence and favor the obstinate dis- like with which he had been previously regarded by George II. With the accession of George III. a new favorite, the EARL OF CHATHAM. 61 Earl of Bute, rose into power. He persuaded the young king that the continuance of the war was unne- cessary ; but, as recent victories had rendered it popu- lar, he did not venture to recommend an immediate commencement of negotiations. In the mean time Pitt had discovered that a secret treaty, known in history as the " Family Compact," had been concluded between the courts of France and Spain, in which it was stipu- lated that both should consider every power as their common enemy, who should become the enemy of the other. He represented to his colleagues, that Spain was only waiting for the arrival of her annual Plate fleet from South America to declare war, and he therefore proposed that we should anticipate her by declaring war ourselves, seizing her treasure-ships before they could reach Europe, and attj^kding her chief colonies before preparations could be 'made for resistance. The king aud the majority of the cabinet rejected this bold propo- sal ; Pitt resigned, declaring that he "would not be re- sponsible for measures which he was no longer allowed to guide," but he gi'eatly injured his popularity by ac- cepting a pension of 3,000Z. a-year for himself, and the title of Baroness Chatham for his lady. Horace Walpole, in a letter to Marshal Conway, very fairly expresses the general feeling with which the pension and peerage were regarded. " It is very lucky that you did not succeed in the ex- pedition to Rochfort. Perhaps you might have been made a peer, and as Chatham is a naval title, it might have fallen to your share. But it was reserved to crown gi-eater glory : and, lest it should not be substantial pay enough, three thousand pounds a-year, for three lives, go along with it. Not to Mr. Pitt — you caU't suppose it. Why, truly, not the title, but the annuity does, and Lady Hester is the baroness ; that if he should please he may earn an earldom himself. Don't beheve me, if you have a mind ; I know I did not believe those who told me. But ask the Gazette, that swears it — ask the king, who has kissed Lady Hester — ask the city of London, who are ready to tear Mr. Pitt to pieces — ask foity people I can name, who are overjoyed at it — and then ask me again who am mortified and who have been F 62 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the dupe of his disinterestedness. Oh, my dear Harry ! I beg you, on my knees, keep your virtue : do let me think there is still one man upon earth who despises money. I wrote you an account last week of his resig- nation. Could you have believed that in four days he would have tumbled from the conquest of Spain to re- ceiving a quarter's pension from Mr. West ? To-day he has advertised his seven coach-horses to be sold. Three thousand a-year for three lives, and fifty thou- sand pounds of his own, will not keep a coach and six. I protest I believe he is mad, and Lord Temple thinks so too ; for he resigned the same morning that Pitt ac- cepted the pension. George Grenville is minister in the House of Commons. I don't know who will be Speaker. They talk of Prowse, Hussey, Bacon, and even of old Sir John Rushout. Delaval has said an ad- mirable thing : he blames Pitt — not as you and I do, but calls him a fool ; and says, if he had gone into the city, told them he had a poor wife and children unpro- vided for, and had opened a subscription, he would have got five hundred thousand pounds instead of three thou- sand pounds a-year. In the mean time the good man has saddled us with a war which we can neither carry on, nor carry oflf. 'Tis pitiful ! 'tis wondrous pitiful ! Is the communication stopped, that we never hear from you ? I own 'tis an Irish question — I am out of humor : my visions are dispelled, and you are still abroad. As I cannot put Mr. Pitt to death, at least I have buried him : here is his epitaph : — Admire his eloquence — it mounted higher Than Attic purity or Roman lire . Adore his services — oar hons view, Ranging where Roman eiiLjIes never flew ; Copy his soul, supreme o'er Lucre's sphere ; But, oh ! beware three thousand pounds a-year !" Many months had not elapsed before the ministers found it absolutely necessary to declare war against Spain, and adopt, when too late, the measures which Pitt had recommended. Though the war was success- fully conducted, Bute continued anxious to bring it to a conclusion. A general peace was effected by the treaty of Paris, signed February 10th, 1763, by which Canada, EARL OF CHATHAM. 63 and other French possessions in America, were ceded to England. Pitt assailed this treaty in the most un- measured terms. His censure was far more severe than just ; and, though the peace was for some time unpopular, all desire for the renewal of the war soon faded away. Pitt was again invited to take office ; but he disapproved of the degrading contest into which the court had entered with John Wilkes, and he Avas jealous of the secret influence which Lord Bute was supposed to exercise over the deliberations of the cabinet. When the question of General Warrants was brought forward, Pitt took the lead in pronouncing their condemnation. His vigorous advocacy of constitutional principles, on this occasion, restored him to the position in popular favor, which he had nearly forfeited by his acceptance of a pension ; and in January, 1765, he received a second unconnnon testimony of respect for his public services from Sir William Pynsent, an aged baronet of ancient family, in Somersetshire, who bequeathed to him his entire property, amounting to c£2,000 a-year. When Mr. Grenville brought forward his fatal measure for taxing the American colonies, Mr. Pitt was prevented by illness from attending the House of Commons. He took, however, an early opportunity of protesting against a plan which he deemed equally impolitic and unconsti- tutional ; he asserted that " the British Parliament had no right to tax America, that country not being repre- sented in the House of Commons." He was answered by Mr. George Grenville, who said, " Look into Magna Charta ; you will see we have a right to tax America ; and that all laws are enacted by the Commune Concilium Regni:' Mr. Pitt begged to be indulged a few words in reply. " Though the gentleman," said he, " is armed at all points with Acts of Parliament, yet I will venture to say, that if he was to take the three first Avords that he might find in a dictionary, they would be full as much to the purpose, as his Commune Concilium Regni. Does he consider that, at the time he speaks of, the barons had all the land — though, indeed, the church, God bless it! had then a third, when the bishops, miti-ed abbots, and such things, had influence ? I laugh, sir, I laugh. 64 M013ERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. when it is said this countiy cannot coerce America ; but will you do it upon a point that is intricate, and in a mat- ter of right that is disputed ? Will you, after the peace you have made, and the small pittance of the fishery that is left you. — will you sheathe your swords in the bowels of your brothers, the Americans ? You may coerce and conquer ; but when they fall, they will fall like the strong man embracing the pillars of the Constitution, and bury it in ruin with them. Gentlemen may double down Acts of Parliament until they are dogs-eared, it will have no effect upon me ; I am past the time of life to be turning to books to know whether I love liberty or not. There are two or three lines of Prior, applica- ble to the present question, supposing America in the situation of a wife : they are these, where he says, — ' Be to her faults a little blind, Be to her virtues very kind, And clap the padlock on her mind.' " As these sentiments coincided with those of the Mar- quis of Rockingham, to whom, in Juty, 1765, the king gave the charge of forming an administration, it was naturally supposed that the two statesmen would cor- dially unite in extricating the country from the difficul- ties into which it had been plunged by the Grenville policy. But Pitt obstinately refused to join the mar- quis ; and, without going into open opposition, he exhib- ited a coldness, not to say a hostihty, to the Rockingham cabinet, which produced very prejudicial consequences to the country. Disliked by the king, and slighted by the great leader of the people, this patriotic cabinet fell to pieces from its own inherent weakness, and Pitt reached the utm.ost limit of ambition in being commis- sioned by the king to form a ministry, without the small- est limitation as to terms. This summit of eminence was attained in July, 1766, but the result was equally fatal to Mr. Pitt's glory and happiness. Lord Rockingham and his friends, resenting the unworthj^ treatment they had received, refused to lend him any assistance ; Earl Temple, hitherto his firmest associate, believed himself slighted, and with- drew, so that the new administration was a motlev mix- EARf. OF rHATHAM. 65 ture of men of all purties, without any definite principle of union. Not the least surprising part of the arrange- ments was, that he took for himself the insignificant office of Privy Seal, and quitted the House of Commons, the theatre of his glory, to sit in the House of Lords as Earl of Chatham. The remarks which Horace Wal- pole has made on this event, are equally valuable for historic fidelity and vigorous expression : — " The glory with which the late ministers retired was half of it plucked from the laurels of the new Earl of Chatham. That fatal title blasted all the atiection which his country had borne to him, and which he had deserved so well. Had he been as sordid as Lord North- ington, he could not have sunk lower in the public es- teem. The people, though he had done no act to occa- sion reproach, thought he had sold them for a title ; and, as words fascinate or enrage them, their idol Mr. Pitt was forgotten in their detestation of the Lord Chatham. He was paralleled with Lord Bath, and became the object at which were shot all the arrows of calumny. He had borne above the obloquy that attracted his former pension — not a mouth was opened now in defence of his title ; as innocent as his pension, since neither betrayed him into any deed of servility to prerogative and despot- ism. Both were injudicious ; the last irrecoverably so. The blow was more ruinous to his country than to him- self. While he held the love of the people, nothing was so formidable in Europe as his name. The talons of the lion were drawn, when he was no longer awful in his own forests. " The city of London had intended to celebrate Mr. Pitt's return to employment, and lamps for an illumina- tion had been placed round tlie Monument. But no sooner did they hear of his new dignity, than the festi- val was counter-ordered. The gi-eat engine of this dis- satisfaction was Lord Temple, who was so shameless as to publish the history of their breach, in which he be- trayed every private passage that Mr. Pitt had dropped in their negotiation and quarrel, which could tend to inflame the public or private persons against him." His health was at this time greatly impaired by re- peated attacks of gout, so that it was impossible for him 5 F'^> GG MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. to exercise that superintendence over public affairs which had rendered his former administration so vigor- ous and so glorious. Surrounded by men who had no attachmeiit to each other, and very little to him, he found himself incapable of exertion under circumstances which w^ould have required his utmost energies at the time of their highest perfection. Much was done in his name, against which he would have protested, but for which he was held responsible by the nation. The at- tempts to tax America w^ere unhappily renewed ; the financial affairs of the counti'y became deranged : the ministry got involved in a quarrel with the East India Company, and in these perplexities Lord Chatham w^ould neither lend assistance nor offer an opinion. At length he resigned office, October 15th, 1768, and had the mortification to find that this event scarcely attracted a passing notice. It had long been expected by his col- leagues ; it was little regarded by the people of Great Britain ; it was almost unknown on the continent of Eu- rope. A few months of repose restored the health, and with it, the vigor of the statesman. He became heartily reconciled to the Rockingham party ; and, in 1770, ap- peared as leader of the opposition in the House of Lords. He assailed the proceedings of the House of Commons against Wilkes ; denounced the attempt to tax America, and proposed a measure of parliamentaiy reform by disfranchising the rotten boroughs, and making a cor- responding increase in the county representation. Find- ing, however, that his influence was much weakened, and his remonstrances little regarded, he withdrew himself in a great measure from public life ; but when the war with America threatened fatal consequences, he came down to the House, swathed in flannel, to move an address to the king, imploring him to take effective measures to put a stop to hostilities. " You may rav- age," said he : " you cannot conquer — it is impossible — you cannot conquer the Americans. You talk of your numerous friends to annihilate the Congress, and of your powerful forces to dispel their army. I might as well talk of driving them before me with this crutch. What you have sent there are too many to niake peace, EARL OF CHATHAM. G7 too few to make war. If you conquer them, — what then ? You cannot make them respect jou, — you can- not make them wear your cloth ; you will plant an invin- cible hatred in their breasts against you. Coming from the stock they do, they can never respect you." And, at a subsequent period, in the same year, he said, " I love and honor the English troops : I know their vir- tues and their valor ; I know they can achieve anything but impossibilities ; and I know that the conquest of English America is an impossibility." His prophetic warnings were disregarded ; but the repeated disasters of the royal army compelled the ministers to yield ; and, in February, 1778, Lord North announced the resolution of government to concede everything that the Americans demanded, except their national independ- ence. On this point the opposition was divided. The Marquis of Rockingham and his followers were of opin- ion that the Americans had in fact won their independ- ence, and that, since they could no longer be retained as subjects, it was better to recognize them as allies, than to suffer them to throw themselves into the arms of France. The earls of Shelburne and Chatham re- garded such a dismemberment of the empire as a pre- lude to the ruin and degradation of the country. The Duke of Richmond having given notice of his intention to move an address for the recognition of American Independence, the Earl of Chatham came for the last time to the House of Lords, April 7th, 1778, a day memorable for the most affecting scene ever witnessed within the walls of Parliament. From the narratives of those who were eye-witnesses, we have prepared a description of an event which has no parallel in history. When Chatham appeared in the House, great sensa- tion was excited by the ravages which age and sickness had made in his constitution ; he came wrapped up in flannel, supported by two friends, feeble, pale, and emaciated. He looked like a dying man, yet never was seen a figure of superior dignity. The Duke of Richmond brought forward his motion in a speech of great temper and ability ; he Was briefly opposed by Lord Weymouth, one of the secretaries of state, and G8 MODERN BRITISH n.UTARCII. then every eye was turned to Lord Chatham. He rose from his seat with slowness and difficulty, leaning on his crutches, and supported under each arm by his friends. Taking one hand from his crutch, and raising it, he looked up to heaven and exclaimed, " I thank God that I have been enabled to come here this day to perform my duty, and to speak on a subject which has so deeply impressed my mind. I am old and infirm ; have one foot — more than one foot, in the grave. I am risen from my bed to stand up in the cause of my country, perhaps never again to speak in this House." The reverence, the attention, and the stillness of the House during the delivery of this affecting exordium, were most remarkable. His tones, at first, were low and feeble, but, as he gi-ew warm, his voice rose and became as powerful and harmonious as ever. " My lords," said he, " I rejoice that the grave has not closed upon me; that I am still alive to lift up my voice against the dismemberment of this ancient and most noble monarchy ! Pressed down, as I am, by the hand of infirmity, I am little able to assist my country in this most perilous juncture ; but my lords, while I have sense and memory, I will never consent to deprive the royal offspring of the House of Brunswick, the heirs of the Princess Sophia, of their fairest inheritance. Where is the man that will dare to advise such a measure ? My. lords, his majesty succeeded to an empire as great in extent as its reputation was unsullied. Shall we tarnish the lusti'e of this nation by an ignominious surrender of its rights and fau-est possessions? Shall this gi-eat king- dom, that has survived, whole and entire, the Danish depredations, the Scottish inroads, and the Norman Conquest — that has stood the threatened invasion of th« Spanish Armada — now fall prosti'ate before the House of Bourbon ? Sm-ely, my lords, this nation is no longer what it was ! Shall a people that, fifteen years ago, were the terror of the world, now stoop so low as to tell their ancient, inveterate enemy, ' Take all we have, only give us peace !' It is impossible ! I wage war with no man or set of men. I wish for none of their employments ; nor would I cooperate with men who still persist in unretracted error, — who, instead of EARL OF CHATHAM. 69 acting on a firm, decisive line of conduct, halt between two opinions, when there is no middle path. In God's name, if it is absolutely necessary to declare either for peace or war, and the former cannot be preserved with honor, why is not the latter commenced without hesita- tion ? I am not, I confess, well informed of the re- sources of this kingdom, but, I trust, it has still sufficient to maintain its just rights, though I know them not ; but, my lords, any state is better than despair. Let us, at least, make one effort, and, if we fall, let us fall like men!" This splendid peroration to a long and argumentative speech, produced a powerful effect on the House ; it in'itated and disconcerted the Duke of Richmond, whose reply was at once passionate and feeble. When he con- cluded, Chatham rose agam ; his emotions proved too powerful for his frame : he fell, in convulsion, into the arms of the peers who surrounded him, and the debate was immediately adjourned. On the following day the Duke of Richmond's motion w^as negatived. Lord Chatham was conveyed to his country seat at Hayes, where he lingered until the 16th of May, when he expired. His memory was honored with a public funeral and a public monument in Westminster Abbey ; 20,000L were voted by Parliament for the payment of his debts, and a pension of 4000L a-year was annexed to the earldom of Chatham. The character of this illustrious statesman has been so admirably drawn by the Earl of Chesterfield, that we shall extract it as a suitable conclusion to this sketch of his career. " His constitution refused him the usual pleasures, and his genius forbade him the usual dissi- pations of youth ; for, so early as the age of sixteen, he was the martyr of an hereditary gout. He therefore employed the leisure, which that tedious and painful distemper either procured or allowed him, in acquiring a great fund of premature and useful knowledge. Thus, by the unaccountable relation of causes and effects, what seemed the greatest misfortune of his life, was, perhaps, the principal cause of its splendor. His private life was stained by no vice, nor sullied by any meanness. All his sentiments were liberal and elevated. His riiliuji 70 IVIODEIIN BlUTISJI PLUTARCH. passion was an unbounded ambition, which, where supported by great abilities and crowned with gi'eat success, makes what the world calls a gi-eat man. He was haughty, imperious, impatient of contradiction, and overbearing, — qualities Avhich too often accompany, but always clog, great ones. He had manners and address, but one might discover through them too great a con- sciousness of his own superior talents. He was a most agi'eeable and lively companion in social life, and had such a versatility of wit that he would adapt it to all sorts of conversation. He had, also, a happy turn for poetry, but he seldom indulged, and seldom avowed it. He came young into Parliament, and upon that theatre he soon equaled the oldest and the ablest actors. His eloquence was of every kind ; and he excelled in the argumentative as well as in the declamatory way. But his invectives were terrible, and uttered with such energy of diction, and such dignity of action and counte- nance, that he intimidated those who were the most willing and best able to encounter him. Their arms fell out of their hands, and they shrank under the ascendant, which his genius gained over theirs." DR. ADAM CLARKE. Dr. Adam Clarke, the most learned of modern commentators on the Holy Scriptm-e, was the son of the parish schoolmaster of the little village of Moybeg, in tlie north of Ireland, where he was born about the year 1760. His parents brought him up very hardily, accustoming him from infancy to bear exposure to the vicissitudes of the seasons, and to take abundant exer- cise in the open air. His constitution was thus gi-adu- ally strengthened, and his powers of endurance became fitted for the labors of his future life. At school, his early progi-ess was very slow ; his first attempts to master any difficulty were repeatedly unsuccessful; but he had the determination to persevere, and what- ever he acquhed he ever afterward retained. He was passionately fond of reading, and devoted all the time he could spare from school, or the labors ot the tarm, to devouring every book of amusement or instruction on which he could lay his hand. When he was about the aae of sixteen, the preaching of Mr. Barber, a zealous and intelligent member of the Methodist connection, produced such an etfect on his mind, that he embraced the doctrines of that body, and abandoned the ordinaiy indulgences of youth to cultivate rehgious knowledge. His intellectual studies were not neglected; he behoved that religion was intimately connected with learnmg and science ; indeed, his own experience taught him, that every advance in piety was accompanied by an increased capacity for acquiring general information. It was the intention of his parents to put him mto /;::; AlODEilN LJUniSH FLUTARCll. business ; ntit a friend having written an account of his character and pursuits to the Eev. John Wesley, that excellent man offered to receive him into Kingswood School, that he might qualify himself for the office of a Methodist preacher. On an-iving at Liverpool, he very naiTowly escaped from impressment, and his remembrance of the danger be had escaped made him a firm opponent of this system of recruiting the navy. Kingswood School was at this time kept by Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, who were harsh, uncharitable, and severe, and who, consequently, were not disposed to give a kindly welcome to a raw lad from the north of Ireland, who presented himself at thei-r door, soiled by travel, and having only three half-pence in his pocket. The harsh treatment be received would have driven a person of weaker mind to despair ; but he endured it patiently until the arrival of Mr. Wesley, who expressed a favorable opinion of his acquirements, led to some improvement. It was at Kingswood that Clarke first commenced his oriental studies ; a half-guinea, which he picked up in the garden, and for which no owner could be found, enabled him to purchase a Hebrew gi-ammar ; and it is no wonder that, when he subsequently viewed the great results of his studies, that he was led to regard the finding of the half-guinea as a special interposition of Providence. In September, 1782, being only in his eighteenth year, and looking still younger, Adam Clarke com- menced his career as an itinerant preacher, at Brad- ford, in Wilts. Though his boyish appearance was at first rather unfavorable to the efficacy of his insti'uc- tions, when his acquirements began to be better appre- ciated, curiosity was excited to hear the youthful preacher and many "who came to scoff remained to pray." The few moments that could be spared from tbe laborious duties of his circuit were devoted to study, until an injudicious associate blamed him for bestowing attention upon human learning. The scruple thus suggested withdrew the young man for souie time from the study of the classics ; but Mr. Wesley having recommended him to preserve whatever knowledge DR. ADAM CLARKE. 73 he had acqmred, he resumed his studies with fresh ardor. The hardships which itinerant preachers had to endure at this period were of the most painful nature ; the salary from which they had to provide books and clothes was only twelve pounds per annum ; most of the con- gregations were poor, and many members who could afford contributions were very slow in rendering aid. Besides, the Methodists were unpopular, and the lives of the preachers were frequently exposed to the fury of angiy multitudes. Adam Clarke had a full share of danger and distress, but his labors as a preacher were not interrupted, neither was his study of biblical litera- ture discontinued. Being sent as a missionary to the Channel Islands, he obtained a little more leisure than he had enjoyed on circuit ; he devoted himself to ori- ental studies, and his progress was truly astonishing. A little before this he had been married to Miss Cooke, whose gentle, affectionate disposition cheered him in his studies, and comforted him when he was weary. In August, 1790, Mr. Clarke visited Dublin as a dele- gate to the Irish from the English Conference. While in the metropolis of his native country he founded the Strangers' Friend Society, a benevolent and highly useful institution, the rules and plan of which have been adopted in almost all of the great towns of the empire. At the same time he became eager to acquire the elements of medical science, and, having entered himself as a student in Trinity College, he attended the usual courses of lectures. His proficiency in these studies was probably not great ; but some of the notes in his Commentary display considerable knowledge of chem- istry. In the year 1796, Mr. Clarke, having been appointed to the London Circuit, which afforded him large literary opportunities, began to make collections for his Com- mentary. He continued this labor as opportunities offered at the different places whither he was sent, and did not relax during the years 1798 and 1799, when England was afflicted with scarcity, and he and his young family had to endure a full share of the general distress. His erudition began to be generally known, 74 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARf H. and on the formation of the Bible Society he became a member of the committee. His extensive knowledge of the oriental languages was now called into active exercise, and his services in revising translations were deemed so important, that an official request was made to the Con- ference that he should be permitted to remain in London, instead of being transferred from a metropolitan to a provincial circuit, according to the general rule. This request was of course granted, and his labors of transla- tion were resumed with fresh energy : offers of remu- neration were made to him by the Bible Society, but he refused to receive any reward. The Senate of the University of Aberdeen, however, confeiTod upon him the honorary title of Doctor of Laws, without solicitation and without fees. It is not our purpose to enter into any details of Dr. Clarke's exertions as a Methodist preacher ; these would only be interesting to the members of that connection, and in some cases might involve points of controversy. We need only mention, that he was indefatigable in the discharge of the duties he had undertaken, and particu- larly zealous in promoting missionary exertions, both by influence and example. He made several tours in Ireland, and always showed himself anxious for the spiritual welfare of his native land ; he twice visited the remote Shetland Isles, and exerted himself to procure spiritual instruction for this remote and to some extent neglected portion of the British population. Having been appointed by the Commissioners of Public Records to superintend the publication of the state papers designed to continue Rymer's Foedera, Dr. Clarke ex- hibited h's critical sagacity in detecting the falsifications of historical documents ; he completely exposed the forgery of the letter pretended to have been sent from the Chief of the Assassins, or, as he was usually called in the middle ages, the Old Man of the Mountain, to Richard Coeur de Lion, which many able wi-iters had accepted as authentic. His friends soon observed that his labors had become too gi-eat for his health, Lnd honorably united in a subscription to purchase for him the estate of Millbrook, near Liverpool, whither he retired in 1815. Here his biblical researches were Dll. ADAM CLARKE. 75 continued with sucli zeal and success, that several learned bodies, including the Koyal Hibernian Academy and the Royal Asiatic Society, enrolled him among their members. In 1824 he sold Millbrook and re- turned to London, where the last years of his life were spent in tranquil study, only interrupted when his labors abroad were likely to advance charity or promote piety. He died in September, 1832, regretted by a wide circle of acquaintance, and by all who felt an interest in biblical criticism and oriental literature. Dr. Clarke's great work is his Commentary on the Bible, and it is a rare example of sagacity and erudition, uniformly maintained through a work that was the labor of years. No difficulty is ever evaded ; where difficulties arose, the investigations of the commentator were unwearied, and the results honestly stated. It cannot be supposed that all his conclusions will be im- plicitly received ; but those who differ from him most must confess, that his opinions were the result of pro- found thought, tested by the most extensive and laborious inquiry. LORD CLIVE. The history of British India is without a parallel in the annals of mankind. It is not a hundred years ago since " the company of British merchants trading with the East Indies" possessed nothing more than a few ports favorably situated for commerce, held at the will, or rather the caprice of the native princes, and defended against commercial rivals by miserable fortifications, which could not have resisted any serious attack. Now British sovereignty in India extends over an empire gi-eater than that possessed by Alexander, oi- the Ca?sars, and probably superior to both in the amount of its wealth and population. The chief agent in raising the East India Company from a trading association to a sovereign power was Lord Clive, whose own elevation was scarcely less marvelous than that of the empire which he founded. Robert Clive was born September 29th, 1725 ; his father was a country gentleman, of moderate fortune and still more moderate caj^acity, who cultivated liis own estate in Shropshire. When a boy, the future hero of India distinguished himself chiefly by wild deeds of daring and courage, neglecting the opportunities of storing his mind with information, the want of which he bitterly felt in after-life. His violent temper, and his neglect of study, led his family to despair of his success at home, and, in his eighteenth year, he was sent out as a "writer," in the service of the East India Company, to the Presidency of Madras. In our day such an appointment would be considered a fair provision LORD CI.TVr, 77 for a young man, holding out, besides, a reasonable prospect of obtaining competency, if not fortune ; but when Clive went to the East, the younger "writers," or clerks, were so badly paid, that they could scarcely subsist without getting into debt, while their seniors enriched themselves by trading on their own account. The voyage out, from England to Madras, which is now effected in three or four months, occupied, at that time, from six months to a year. Clive's voyage was more than usually tedious ; the ship was detained for a con- siderable period at the Brazils, where he picked up some knowledge of Portuguese, and contracted some heavy debts. This apparent misfortune had the good effect of compelling him to reflect on his situation. He avoided all amusements- and dissipation, but availed himself of the resources of the governor's library, which was liberally opened to him in his hours of leisure. He, however, felt himself unhappy, for his occupations were unsuited to his tastes, and he longed for an opportunity of finding a mode of life more congenial to his dis- position. The war of the Austrian succession, in which George n. took the side of the empress, while the French king supported her competitor, extended to the eastern wodd. Labourdonnais, the governor of the French colony in the Mauritius, suddenly appeared before Madras, and, as the town and fort were not prepared for defence, both were surrendered on honorable terms. But Dupleix, the French governor of Pondicherry, denying the right of Labourdonnais to gi-ant any terms, refused to ratify the capitulation, and directed Madras to be razed to the ground. With still greater disregard for public faith, he led the English who had capitulated through the town of Pondicherry, as captives gi-acing his triumphal procession, in the presence of fifty thousand spectators. Clive escaped this outrage by flying from Madras in disguise; he took refuge at Fort St. David, a settlement subordinate to Madras, where he obtained from Major Lawrence, one of the best offlcers then in India, an ensign's commission in the service of the company. Peace between England and France having been es- tablished, Madras was restored to its former owners. g2 7S MODERN BRITISH rLUTARril. Clive, However, did not return to his civil pursuits ; he occasionally acted as a writer, but he was more fre- quently employed as a soldier in the petty hostilities which arose between the English and the natives. Events, however, were now in progress, which made the French and English East India Companies com- petitors for an empire, though neither understood the value of the prize for which they contended ; and Clive, fortunately for his countiy and himself, was almost forced to take the position of a military commander. To explain fully the position of India, at this period, would take far more pages than we can afford lines ; a very brief sketch, may, however, help our readers to comprehend the course of events. India, in its entire extent, was nominally governed by the Emperor of Delhi, or, as he was generally, though absurdly, called in Europe, "the Great Mogul." Under him were several viceroys, each of whom ruled over as many subjects as any of the great sovereigns of Europe ; and the delegates of these viceroys had a wider extent of territory than is included in most of the minor states of Germany. Tliis empire began to lose its unity toward the close of the seventeenth century. The different viceroys, while professing a nominal allegiance to the crown of Delhi, established a substantial independence ; several of their immediate vassals treated them as they had done the emperor; and several warlike tribes took advantage of this disorganization, to plunder the defence- less provinces. Of these the most formidable were the Mahrattas, whose name was long the terror of the Peninsula. Dupleix, whose name has already been mentioned as the French governor of Pondicheriy, was the first who conceived the possibility of establishing an European dominion on the ruins of the Delhi empire ; and, for this purpose, he wisely resolved to attempt no direct conquest, but to place, at the head of the different principalities, men who owed their elevation to his aid, and whose continuance in power would be dependent on his assistance. With this view he supported a claimant to the viceroyalty of the Deccan, and another to the subordinate government of the Carnatic ; or, as LORD OLIVE. 79 the Indians term it, a rival Nizam, and a rival Nabob, against the princes already in possession of these terri- tories. His efforts were equally splendid and successful ; the competitors whom he had selected became masters of the kingdom, and he, as the bestower of such mighty prizes, began to be regarded as the gi-eatest authority in India. The English were struck with astonishment, and, as there was peace with France, they were at a loss to determine on the line of conduct that they ought to pursue. Mohammed Ali, whom the English recog- nized as Nabob of the Carnatic, was reduced to the possession of the single town of Trichinopoly, and even that was invested by Chunda Sahib, the rival nabob, and his French auxiliaries. Under these circumstances Clive proposed to the Madras authorities the desperate expedient of seizing on Arcot, the capital of the Car- natic, and thus recalling Chunda Sahib from the siege of Trichinopoly. With a force of two hundred Europeans and three hundred Sepoys, under eight officers, four of whom had been taken from the counting-house, Clive surprised Arcot in the midst of a terrific storm, and the garrison fled without striking a blow. Being reinforced by large bodies of troops, the expelled garrison, swelled to the amount of three thousand men, formed an en- campment near the town ; but Clive took them by surprise in the night, slew gi-eat numbers, put the rest to flight, and returned to his quarters without a single casualty. Chunda Sahib sent ten thousand men, including one hundred and fifty French soldiers, under his son, Rajah Sahib, to recover Arcot. Clive's little garrison endured a siege of fifty days against this disprojjortionate force, and against the pressure of famine, which was early and severely felt. Nothing in history is equal to the proof of devotion which the native portion of this gal- lant little band gave to their beloved commander ; the Sepoys came to Clive with a request that all the grain should be given to the Europeans, who required more nourishment than the natives of Asia, declaring that they would be satisfied with the thin gruel which strained away from the rice. Rajah Sahib at length made an attempt to take the place by storm : he was defeated 80 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. with great loss, principally by Clive's personal exertions, upon which he abandoned the siege, leaving behind him a large quantity of military stores. Clive followed up his victory with great vigor, and the government of Madras, encouraged by his success, re- solved to send him with a strong detachment to reinforce the garrison of Trichinopoly. Just at this conjuncture, however, Major Lawrence returned from England, and assumed the chief command. If Clive was mortified by the change, he soon overcame his feelings ; he cheer- fully placed himself under the command of his old friend, and exerted himself as strenuously in the second post as when he held the chief command. The French had no leaders fit to cope with the two friends, and the Eng- lish triumphed everywhere. The besiegers of Trichi- nopoly were themselves besieged, and compelled to capitulate. Chunda Sahib fell into the hands of the Mahrattas, and was put to death at the instigation of his rival. The forts of Covelong and Chingleput were taken by Clive, though his forces consisted of raw recruits, lit- tle better than an undisciplined rabble. Dupleix, how- ever, was not driven to despair, but still sought means of renewing the contest. After the capture of Chingleput, Clive returned to Madras, where he married Miss Maskelyne, sister to the Astronomer Royal, and immediately after returned to England. He was received with great honors by the Court of Directors, and, through the influence of Lord Sandwich, obtained a seat in Parliament; but his elec- tion having been set aside, he again turned his thoughts towards India, where both the Company and the Gov- ernment were eager to avail themselves of his services. The Directors appointed him governor of Fort St. David ; the king gave him the commission of a lieutenant-colonel in the British army ; and thus doubly authorized, he re- turned to Asia in 1755. The first service on which he was employed after his return to the East was the reduction of the stronghold of Gheriah. This fortress, built on a craggy promon- tory, and almost surrounded by the ocean, was the den of a pirate named Angi'ia, whose ships had long been the terror of the Arabian seas. Admiral Watson, who LORD CLIVE. 81 commanded the English squadron, bm-ned Angi-ra's fleet, while Chve attacked the fastness by land. The place soon fell, and a booty of a hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling was divided among the con- querors. About two months after Clive had entered on his gov- ernment at Fort St. David, intelligence was received of the destruction of the English settlement at Calcutta by Surajah Dowlah, the Nabob of Bengal. Although scarcely any resistance had been made, the English prisoners, one hundred and forty-six in number, were all thrust into a close and narrow apartment called the Black Hole, which, in such a climate, would have been too close and too narrow for a single prisoner. Their sufferings during the dreadful night, until death put an end to the misery of most, cannot be described ; one hundred and twenty-three perished before morning, and the survivors had to be dug out of the heap formed by the dead bodies of their companions. The authorities at Madras, on receiving this intelli- gence, resolved to avenge the outrage ; nine hundred Europeans, and fifteen hundred Sepoys, under the com- mand of Clive, were embarked on board Admiral Wat- son's squadron ; the passage was rendered tedious by adverse winds, but the armament arrived safely in Ben- gal. Clive proceeded with his usual promptitude ; he routed the garrison which the nabob had placed in Fort William, recovered Calcutta, and took Hoogley by storm. Surajah Dowlah, who was as cowardly as h-e was cruel, now sought to negotiate peace, but at the same time he secretly urged the French to come to his assistance. This duplicity could not be concealed from Clive and Watson. They determined accordingly to attack Chandernagore, the chief possession of the French in Bengal, before the force there could be strengthened by new arrivals either from the South of India or Europe. Watson directed the expedition by water ; Clive by land. The success of the combined movements was rapid and complete. The fort, the garrison, the artil- lery, the military stores, all fell into the hands of the English, and near five hundred European troops were among the prisoners. 6 82 MODERIV BRITJSH PLUTARCH. A less liouorable scene of treachery and intrigue was now opened : while Clive, through his agent, Mr. Watts, professed the most friendly feelings towards Surajah Dowlah, he secretly encouraged a conspiracy for de- throning the nabob, and raising Meer Jaffier to the government of Bengal. One of the chief agents in this plot was a wealthy Hindoo merchant, named Omichund, who had suffered hea\y losses when Calcutta was taken by the nabob, and who now sought compensation. Omichund waited till the plot was nearly ripe ; then, when the lives of all the conspirators w^ere at his mercy, — when a single word, whispered to Surajah Dowlah, would have ruined all, — he resolved to take advantage of his situation and make his own terms. He demand- ed three hundred thousand pounds as the price of his secrecy, and insisted that an article touching his claims should be inserted in the ti'eaty between the English and Meer Jaffier. Clive met him with equal treachery : he had two ti'eaties prepared, one on white paper, the other on red ; in the former, which was real, Omi- chund's name was not mentioned ; i-n the latter, which was fictitious, and prepared only to deceive the Hindoo, the promised stipulation was inserted. Admiral Wat- son scrupled to sign the deceptive document ; but Clive, without hesitation, had the guilty boldness to forge his name. Everj^thing being now ready for action, Mr. Watts made his escape from the nabob's court at Moorsheda- bad, and Clive sent letters to Surajah Dowlah, which were tantamount to a declaration of war. He then ad- vanced up the country, relying on the promises of Meer Jaffier to join him with his division ; but at the decisive moment, the conspirator becoming fiightened, delayed to fulfil his engagements, and returned evasive answers to the earnest remonstrances of the English general. Under these circumstances Clive, for the first and last time in his life, called a council of war ; the majority decided against fighting, and he concurred in the opin- ion. But no sooner was the meeting over than he adopted the bolder and wiser course of hazarding an en- gagement. The soldiers received orders to advance, and after a painful day's march, they took up their LORD CLIVK. 83 qaarters in a grove of mango trees near Plassey, within about a quarter of a mile of the enemy. At sunrise, on the morning of the 23d of June, 1757, the army of the nabob, consisting of forty thousand in- fantry and fifteen thousand cavahy, supported by fifty pieces of heavy ordnance, advanced to attack the Eng- lish army, which did not exceed three thousand men in all, and had, for its artillery, but a few field-pieces. But the nabob had no confidence in his army, nor his army in him ; the battle was confined to a distant can- nonade, in which the nabob's artillery was quite ineffec- tive, while the Enghsh field-pieces did great execution. Surajah's terror became greater every moment, and led him to adopt the insidious advice of one of the conspira- tors, and order a retreat. Clive saw the movement, and the confusion it occasioned in the undisciphned hordes ; he ordered his battalions to advance, and, in a moment, the hosts of the nabob became a mass of inex- tricable confusion. In less than an hour they were dis- persed, never again to reassemble ; though only five or six hundred fell, their camp, guns, baggage, with innu- merable waggons and cattle, remained in the hands of the victors. With the loss of only twenty-two soldiers killed and fifty wounded, Clive had dispersed an army of sixty thousand men, and conquered an empire larger and more populous than Great Britain. Surajah Dow- lah fled from the field of battle to his capital, but, not deeming himself safe there, he tried to escape by the river to Patna. He was subsequently captured, and barbarously murdered by the son of Meer Jafifier. In the mean time Clive led Meer Jafifier in triumph to Moorshedabad, and took a leading part in the ceremony of his installation. It now only remained to divide the spoil according to previous engagements. A meeting was held for the purpose, and there Omichund was in- formed, with little ceremony, of the artifice by which he had been duped. The shock overwhelmed him, he fell insensible into the arms of his attendants, and, though he revived, his mind was totally ruined. After lingering a few months in a state of idiocy, he died the victim of deception, which had duped him, the most practiced of deceivers. 84 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH, Immense sums of money were given to the servants of the Company ; Clive received for his share between two and three hundred thousand pounds. Nor Avas this al] : Shah Alum, the son of the Emperor of Delhi, hav- mg invaded Bengal, Clive delivered Meer Jaffier from this formidable enemy, and was rewarded with the jaghire or estate of the lands south of Calcutta, for which the Company were bound to pay the nabob a quit-rent of about thirty thousand pounds annually. But the gratitude of Meer .Jaffier did not last long; weary of his dependence on the English, he sought an alliance with the Dutch, who had a factory at Chinsurah. ' The authorities of this place sent earnest letters to their countrymen in Batavia, urging them to take this oppor- tunity of raising a rival power to the English in India ; and their advice was taken. Seven large ships from Java, having on board fifteen hundred ti'oops, appeared unexpectedly in the Hoogley. Though England was at peace with Holland, Clive resolved to attack them with- out delay. The ships were taken, and the army routed. Chinsurah was invested by the conquerors, and was only spared on the condition that no fortifications should be built, and no soldiers raised, beyond those that were necessary for the police of the factories. Three months aftei-ward he returned to England, where he was re- ceived with a profusion of honors ; he was raised to the Irish peerage, and promised an English title. George III., who had just ascended the throne, received him with marked distinction, and the leading statesmen of the day vied with each other in showing him attention. By judicious purchases of land he was enabled to ac- quire gi'eat parliamentary influence, and by large pur- chases of India stock he was enabled to form a strong party in the Court of Proprietors. The value of such support was soon shown ; the Court of Directors, insti- gated by Mr. wSullivan, the personal ene?ny of Lord Clive, withheld the rent of the JRghire that he had re- ceived from Meer Jaffier, and it was necessary to insti- tute a suit in chancery to enforce payment. But Clive' s gi'eatest sti-ength was derived from the misconduct of his successors in the government of Ben- gal : resolved to enrich themselves at all hazards, they LORD CLIVE. 85 earned misgovernment to an excess which menaced the very existence of society. They dethroned Meer Jaffier, and set up his son-in-law, Meer Cossiin, as nabob. Finding that Meer Cossim was not so pliable as they ex- pected, they set him aside and restored Meer Jaffier; at every change the hoards of the treasury were divided among those makers of sovereigns, and, when these failed, they were rewarded with lucrative mo- nopolies of trade, which reduced the native inhabitants to ruin. " Rapacity, luxury, and the spirit of insubordination," says a late writer, " spread from the civil service to the officers of the army, and from the officers to the soldiers. The evil continued to gi'ow till eveiy mess- room became the seat of conspiracy and cabal, and till the Sepoys could only be kept in order by wholesale executions." Individuals were enriched, but the public treasury was empty, and the government had to face the dangers of disordered finances, when there was war on the frontiers and disaffection in the army. Under these circumstances it was generally felt that Clive alone could save the empire which he had founded. Lord Clive felt the strength of his position. He refused to go to India so long as his enemies had pre- ponderating power in the Court of Directors ; an over- whelming majority of the proprietors seconded his wishes, and the Sullivan party, lately triumphant, was deprived of power. Having been nominated Governor- General and Commander-in-Chief of the British posses- sions in Bengal, he sailed for India, and reached Cal- cutta in May, 1765. He at once assembled the Council, and announced his determination to enforce his two great reforms — the prohibition of receiving presents from the natives, and the prohibition of private trade by the ser- vants of the Company. The whole settlement seemed to be set, as one man, against these measures ; but Clive declared that if the functionaries in Calcutta refused obedience, he would send for some civil ser- vants from Madras to aid him in conducting the admin- istration. As he evinced the strength of his resolution by dismissing the most factious of his opponents, the rest became alarmed, and submitted to what was inevitable, H 86 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. One gi'eat cause of the evils he had to redress, was the system which the Company had adopted of paying inad- equate salaries, and conniving at the indirect gains of their agents. To compensate for the prohibition of these gains, Clive appropriated the profits derived from the monopoly of salt, which had long been a recognized source of revenue in India, to the support of the civil service, and fixed a scale for the division of the profits, which was very generally approved. This measure subsequently exposed him to much obloquy ; but when the circumstances which rendered it necessary are taken into consideration, few will be found to persevere in censure. Scarcely had the governor-general quelled the op- position of the civil service when he had to encounter a formidable mutiny of the officers of the army, occasioned by a diminution of their field allowances. Two hundred English officers engaged in a conspiracy to resign their commissions on the same day, believing that the gov- ernor-general would submit to any terms rather than see the army, on which the safety of the empire rested, left without commanders. They were mistaken in their calculations ; Clive supplied their places from the offi- cers round his person ; he sent for others from Madras ; he even gave commissions to some mercantile agents who offered their support at this time. Fortunately the soldiers, and particularly the Sepoys, over whom Clive had unbounded influence, remained stedfast in their allegiance. The leaders were arrested, tried, and dis- missed from the service ; the others, completely hum- bled, besought permission to withdraw their resignations, and Clive exhibited lenity to all, save those whom he regarded as the contrivers of the plot. In his foreign policy he was equally successful. The Nabob of Oude, who had threatened invasion, sought for peace as soon as he heard of Clive's arrival in India ; and the Emperor of DeUii executed a formal warrant, em- powering the Company to collect and administer the revenues of Bengal, Bahar, and Oussa ; that is, in fact, to exercise direct sovereignty over these provinces. Never had such a beneficial change been wrought in the short space of eighteen months. The governor-gen- LORD CLIVE. 87 eral set a noble example of obedience to his own regu- lations : he refused the brilliant presents offered him by the native princes, and when Meer Jaffier left him a legacy of sixty thousand pounds, he made the whole over to the Company, in trust, for the officers and soldiers invalided in their sei"vice. At the close of January, 1767, the state of his health compelled Lord Clive to return to England. His recep- tion at home was far from being gratifying ; his old enemies in the India House, reinforced by those whose rapacity he had checked in Bengal, assailed him pub- licly and privately; the prejudices excited against those who had suddenly made large fortunes in India, were concentrated against him who was the highest, both in rank and fortune ; while his ostentatious display of wealth and grandeur increased the unfavorable impres- sion on the public mind. The dreadful famine which desolated Bengal in 1770, was, with strange perversity, attributed to Lord Clive's measures, and his parliamen- tary influence was greatly weakened by the death of George Grenville. Such was his position in the session of 1772, when the state of India was brought before Parliament, and all the evils of its condition made sub- jects of charge against the best of its rulers. Clive met the storm with firmness. Lord Chatham declared that the speech in which he vindicated himself at an early stage of the proceedings was one of the finest ever de- livered in the House of Commons ; his answers, when subjected to a rigid examination before a committee of inquiry, were equally remarkable for their boldness and candor. But there were some of his deeds which could not be justified, and a vote of moderate censure on his conduct was sanctioned by the House of Commons. This was a disgrace, for which the favor of his sover- eign, though it never varied, afforded him no conso- lation : his constitution, already weakened by a tropical climate, began to give way : to soothe the pains of mind and body, he had recourse to the treacherous aid of opium, which only aggravated both : at length, on the 22d of November, 1774, he died by his own hand. That Clive committed manj^ faults, cannot be denied ; and it is not sufficient excuse to say that they were 88 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. necessary to the founding of the British empire in India. But his second administration, the reforms he introduced into the government, and the system of wise policy which he estabhshed, may well atone for his errors ; indeed, it has done so in. India, where the natives not only respect his memory as a conqueror, but venerate it as a benefactor. CAPTAIN COOK. Voyages of discovery have now become rare ; every sea on the earth's surface has been explored by adven- turous British navigators, save those which are closed against enterprise, by barriers of everlasting ice. But at the accession of George III. little was known of those multitudes of islands which stud the Pacific Ocean be- tween the continents of Asia and America ; and still less of those vast lands in the Southern Seas, where now are flourishing colonies, destined, in the course of ages, to form new empires. The life of the gi-eat navigator, who may be said to have first directed the attention of the British nation to regions daily gi-owing in national importance, is one of great historic value. But it also possesses an interest of its own ; for it shows that in- dustry, integrity, and intelligence can open the way to fame and fortune, in spite of the disadvantages of humble birth, moderate means, and even a deficiency of early education. James Cook, the gi-eatest of modern maritime discov- erers, was born October 27th, 1728, at the village of Marton, near Stockton-upon-Tees, in the North Riding of Yorkshire. His parents were humble farm-servants, but they bore a high character for probity, and they were enabled to have their son apprenticed to a haberdasher, in the village of Staith, at the age of thirteen. A pas- sion for naval life is so generally felt by boys on the English coast, that it is not surprising to find Cook soon growing weary of the shop, and earnestly soliciting to be sent to sea. His parents gratified his inclination : he H 2 90 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCtt. was bound to a ship-owner at Whitby, and, in the course of time, became mate of a vessel employed in the coal-trade, that best of schools for practical seaman- ship. He employed his leisure in acquiring a knowl- edge of marine sui-veying, and was early enabled to correct many eiTors in the defective charts then com- monly in use. In this pursuit, he must have been to a great extent self-taught, for he could have derived little aid from the limited instructions given at a village school. When war was declared between England and France in 1755, Cook volunteered to sei-ve on board the Eagle frigate, commanded by Captain, aftenvards Sir Hugh Palliser, and soon attracted the attention of the officers by his diligence, activity, and skill in seamanship. In May, 1759, he was promoted to be master of the Me cury, a ship which bore a part in the celebrated expeui- tion against Quebec. Before the English forces could venture on any attempt to effect a landing, it was neces- sary to take accurate soundings of the river St. Law- rence, in front of the French camp. Captain Palliser recommended that Cook should be employed on this arduous service, which he performed with such sagacity and resolution, that he was intrusted w^ith the charge of surveying the course of the river below Quebec. The accurate chart which he prepared gave general satisfac- tion ; he was promoted to the Northumberland, where he employed all the leisure that tlie duties of the ship afforded him, in the study of mathematics. When Sir Hugh Palliser was appointed Governor of Newfound- land, Cook was found qualified for the important office of Marine Surveyor of Newfoundland and Labrador. He held the office nearly four years, and the charts which he constructed of these coasts continue to be used at the present day. While he was engaged in this service, he had an opportunity of observing a remarkable eclipse of the sun : he transmitted the results of his observations to the Admiralty, and their scientific accu- racy excited the attention and admiration of the astrono- mers of the day. Tn 1767, the Council of the Royal Society represented to Government, that it would be of great importance to CAPTAIN COOK. 91 astronomical and geographical science, if astronomers were sent to some part of the South Pacific Ocean, to observe the transit of the planet Venus over the sun's disk. The recommendation was favorably received, and the Endeavor, a ship of three hundred and seventy tons, was equipped for the purpose. At the urgent instances of the Secretary to the Admiralty, Cook, having been raised to the rank of lieutenant, was appointed to the command ; he saile-d from Plymouth, August 23d, 1768, accompanied by Mr. Green, as astronomer, and Sir Jo- seph Banks, as naturalist. Having passed round Cape Horn, the Endeavor reached the island of Otaheite, or, as it is now called, Tahiti, April 11th, 1769, which had been only once before visited by Europeans. As it was necessary to remain some time on the island. Cook used every precaution to keep on good terms with the natives ; he would receive no articles from them, except in fair traffic or barter ; he prohibited the use of deadly weap- ons when any accidental differences arose, and he restrained the curiosity of his companions, when its indulgence was likely to lead to any colhsion. These judicious measures had the desired effect ; the natives of Tahiti had no serious difference with their visitors during their stay. It was reserved for our day to find those peaceful islanders plundered and butchered by French adventurers, in the name of Christianity and civilization. The transit of Venus was satisfactorily observed, June 3d ; and on the 13th of July, the En- deavor resumed her voyage, pursuant to Cook's instruc- tions, which were to prosecute maritime discovery in the Southern Ocean, after the astronomical purposes of the exhibition had been fulfilled. Having spent a month in the examination of the So- ciety Islands, which had not been previously explored, he proceeded to search for the great Southern conti- nent, which was then generally, but erroneously, sup- posed to form a counterpoise to the extensive continents in the Northern Hemisphere. On the 6th of October, he came in sight of New Zealand, which had not been visited by Europeans since it was first discovered by Tasman, in 1642. Several months were devoted to the examination of this unknown region ; Cook was the first 92 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. who discovered that it consisted of two large islands, separated by a strait, which now bears his name. From New Zealand, he steered to the still more important island of New Holland, the largest in the world, and that which presents the most perplexing problems to the geogi-apher, the geologist, and the natm^alist. The nature of these problems have been thus stated by the author of the present work, in one of the periodicals, and he trusts to be excused for making the quotation. " Some wicked wag declared, that the Martello towers were erected in Ireland by the Foxite administration, for the special purpose of puzzling posterity ; nature seems to have produced New Holland with a similai* design toward philosophers, having therein ruthlessly violated all the rules and regulations provided by the manufacturers of theories, from the days of Aristotle even unto the present time. Our northern rivers, after quitting the mountains, flow to the sea in a continuous stream, deepening and widening as they advance ; but some of the Australian streams, seemingly wearied of their long journey, quietly spread themselves out over a marsh, and stagnate in repose, notwithstanding any laws of map-makers or geographers to the contrary. Enor- mous masses of gi-anite, that ought, according to the rules and regulations in such cases made and provided, to have formed the terminations of mountainous chains, stand alone, like hermits in the wilderness. The very ocean seems to have been subjected there to a new code of laws, the observance of which is enforced by a cha-in of coral reefs, that compel obedience more power- fully th-an any chain of mathematical demonstrations with which speculative philosophers have fettered na- ture. When we meet such strange occurrences in the broad general features of the country, we may naturally expect that the minor details will be equally surprising ; accordingly, we find that the trees, herbs, and plants of this extraordinary country, are unlike anything to which we have been accustomed ; and that the animals seem to us like the strayed inhabitants of another planet. For about a score of centuries the name of a black swan was synonymous with non-existence : alas ] for the similes of poets and the illustrations of prosers ; scarce had this CAPTAIN COOK 93 theatre of nature's frolics been opened to the public, when hosts of black swans were discovered, to the gi-eat confusion of whole troops of worthy book-manufacturers, but also to the great edification of all who advocate negro slavery. The ktter point may not immediately appear, but it is thus established : a black swan, that was kept on the lake in the Regent's Park, was actually attacked by a fosse comitatus of the white swans, and not going quietly into slavery, as might reasonably be expected, was murdered with very little ceremony. Who does not see, from this, that hostility between blacks and whites is a law of our nature, and that each color has a perfect right to abuse the other whenever an opportu- nity may offer ? — But the beasts distance the birds com- pletely in extravagance ; their birth, form, mode of life, and means of motion, are unlike anything in this part of the globe : death, after all, is the true leveler of distinc- tions, for it appears that they, at least, die according to the ordinary laws. There is every reason to believe that all the indigenous animals of New Holland belong to the Marsupian class, and considering the immense variety of the species into which this class is divided, it is not a little remarkable that it should be totally confined to Australia." Cook's attention was principally directed to the east- ern shores of this insular continent, to which he gave the name of New South Wales; and though the countiy has been since colonized, his descriptions of its geogra- phy and natural history may still be read with profit and pleasure. He had safely navigated this most dangerous coast, for a distance of thirteen hundred miles, where the sharp coral reefs, described in the preceding extract, rise like a wall to the surface of the water, when, on the night of June 10th, the ship suddenly struck on a coral reef, which was only a few feet below the surface of the water. Though she was immediately lightened by every possible means, two tides passed before she could be got afloat, and it was then found that she had received so much injury as to require three pumps to be kept going night and day. When the men were almost worn out by this labor, a midshipman suggested the expedient of passing a sail, charged with oakum and 94 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Other light materials, under her keel ; and this succeeded so well, that the water of the leak was easily kept down by a single pump. On the 14th a harbor was discov- ered, since named Endeavor river, suitable for making the necessary repair. It was then found that a large fragment of the coral rock had remained in the ship's bottom, so as in a great measure to close the leak, which would othei-wise have admitted such a body of water as would have set all their exertions at defiance. To this providential occurrence they owed their escape, for had the ship foundered, the boats would have been insuffi- cient to contain the crew. When the repaii's of the Endeavor were completed, Cook pursued his course through inti'icate islands and reefs to the north of New Holland, which he was the first to discover to be a separate island from New Guinea: thence he proceeded to the Dutch settlement of Batavia, in the island of Java, for refreshment and repairs ; after which he returned to England, and cast anchor in the Downs, June 12th, 1771, having been absent little more than two years. Cook's discoveries had proved that New Zealand and New Holland were islands, and not part of a great south- ern continent, as had been generally supposed. But he had not ascertained whether some immense tract of land did not exist in higher latitudes, and a second expedition was prepared for this further investigation. Two ships were fitted out : the Resolution, commanded by Cook, and a smaller vessel, the Adventure, commanded by Captain Funeaux, which, however, was separated from her consort early in the second year of her voyage. The expedition sailed from Plymouth, July 13th, 1772: its researches possess more of scientific than of general interest, for the navigators sailed along the immense masses of ice in the Southern Ocean, without discovering any land of importance. Refreshments were obtained for the crew, at the Society Islands and New Zealand ; as in the former voyage, intercourse with the natives was so judiciously managed, that no dispute of any kind arose during the entire period. The principal discoveiy made in the Pacific Ocean, was the island to which he gave the name of New Caledonia ; and in the Southern CAPTAIN COOK. 95 Ocean he discovered Sandwich land, a bleak and deso- late coast, which was the most southern land that had previously been known. After having traversed sixty- thousand miles of ocean, without so much injury to the ship as springing a mast or a yard. Cook returned to the Cape of Good Hope, whence he sailed for England, and on the 30th of July, 1774, cast anchor at Spithead. He was received in England with merited applause, and was appointed Captain of Greenwich Hospital. At this period of our naval history, the crews of ships suf- fered dreadfully from scurvy in long voyages, but Cook, during his long and painful surveys, had not lost a single man by this disease. He was induced by the Royal Society to detail the means by which he had been ena- bled to preserve his men in such unexampled health. In his paper read before the Royal Society, and justly rewarded with a gold medal by that body, he stated that he chiefly relied on a large stock of antiscorbutic stores, as malt, sourkrout, and portable broth ; the en- forcement of a vegetable diet wherever vegetables could be procured ; that he took great care not to expose the crew unnecessarily to the weather, and that he exer- cised careful supervision in keeping their persons, their clothes, and their berths clean, dry, and well-aired. He was justly proud of his success, and in closing his ac- count of his second voyage, refers to the efficacy of these precautions, with equal philanthropy and mod- esty : — "Whatever may be the public judgment about other matters, it is with real satisfaction, and without claiming any other merit than that of attention to my duty, that I can conclude this account, with an observa- tion, which facts enable me to make, that our having dis- covered the possibility of preserving health among a numerous ship's company for such a length of time, in such varieties of climate, and amid such continued hard- ships and fatigues, will make this Voyage remarkable in the opinion of every benevolent person, when the dis- putes about the southern continent shall have ceased to engage the attention and to divide the judgment of phil- osophers." At this time, another and more important geographi- cal problem engaged the attention of the nation — the 96 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. practicability of a northeast passage to India and China. In the life of Nelson will be found a brief account of the expedition sent to investigate this question in the north- ern seas ; and it was deemed advisable that a similar attempt should be made in the North Pacific Ocean. Cook volunteered his services to command the latter expedition, and his offers were joyfully accepted. But the government wisely resolved to combine measures of practical benevolence with scientific research ; cattle, sheep, and other useful animals were embarked, to be left, and if possible to be naturalized, in New Zealand, Tahiti, and other islands. The ships sailed from Ply- mouth, July l*2th, 1776, but reached the Friendly Islands so late in the spring of 1777, that it would have been impossible to make any useful discoveiy in the Polar seas. Cook therefore spent the summer in examining various groups of islands in the Polynesian Archipelago, and while he greatly extended the geographical knowl- edge of these intricate seas, he left stocks of European animals at the principal islands, particularly at Tahiti, which have since become the source of valuable supplies to the whalers, and other navigators of the southern seas. In the beginning of 1778, he directed his course northward, and after executing some necessary repairs at Nootka Sound, advanced to the Aleutian islands and up Behring's strait. Here he ascertained that the con- tinents of Asia and America were only thirteen leagues apart. Having penetrated through the straits into the Artie seas, he soon reached its icy barriers, which he continued to examine until the end of August, when the increase of the ice compelled him to seek a more genial cUmate. He took advantage of this delay, to examine more closely the Sandwich Islands, which he had pre- viously discovered ; and directed his attention more particularly to Owyhee, or as it is now called, Hawai, the largest and most important of the gi-oup. Here the natives received the strangers with more than ordinaiy generosity and confidence. Near ten weeks w^eie passed without any serious disagi*eement, and the last entiy which Cook made in his journal was a declaration that this island, where his career was so soon to be CAPTAIN COOK. 97 prematurely closed, fully compensated for his disappoint- ment in not discovering a northern passage homewards. " But to this disappointment," he wrote, " we owed having it in our power to visit the Sandwich Tslands, and to enrich our voyage with a discovery, which, though the last, seemed in many respects to be the most impoitant that had been hitherto made by Euro- peans throughout the extent of the Pacific Ocean." The fatal affray in which this great navigator lost his life, arose from one of those accidents against which no human foresight can guard. Like all barbarous tribes, the natives of the Sandwich Islands were much addicted to stealing some of the new and valuable articles displayed by their European visitors. Cook, with his usual be- nevolence, was disposed to make every allowance for the effect of such temptations on untutored savages, and generally efltected the restoration of the abstracted arti- cles by mildness and persuasion. But on the night of February 13th, 1779, one of the ship's boats was stolen, and this was too serious a loss to be endured. On the 14th Cook went on shore, escorted by a few marines, hoping, by amicable means, to gain possession of the person of the king of the district, and keep him as a hostage until the boat had been restored. This remedy had frequently been tried before, and had always suc- ceeded. The king consented to go on board, the ship, but his subjects displayed great dissatisfaction ; a crowd collected, the indications of hostility gradually increased, several blows were aimed at Captain Cook, who was obliged to fire in self-defence. This further exasper- ated the natives ; a shower of stones was discharged at the marines, who returned it with a volley. The sail- ors in the boats, instead of pulling close to shore, to take the captain and marines on board, commenced a distant and stragghng fire. Cook turned round to order them to approach, but the natives liad now closed on the marines, and driven them into the water, after having killed four of the number. The captain was making toward the pinnace, when he was struck by an islander in the back of the head, and before he could recover from the blow, was stabbed by another in the neck. He might still have been rescued but for the 7 I 98 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. confusion which prevailed on board the boats : before the crew could recover their presence of mind, he was overpowered by numbers, and his lifeless body was borne off by the natives. Part of his remains was sub- sequently recovered, and committed to the deep with the usual military honors. Since that time, civilization has penetrated to Hawai, and the memory of Captain Cook is still venerated by the islanders, who from the first evinced shame and sorrow for the melancholy catastrophe. The command of the expedition, after Cook's fall, devolved on Captain Clarke, and when he died of con- sumption, on Lieutenant King, who continued the nar- rative of the expedition from the period where Captain Cook's journal ends, to its close. We cannot better conclude this article, than by quoting King's honorable testimony to the virtues of his beloved commander. " The constitution of Captain Cook's body was robust, inured to labor, and capable of undergoing the severest hardships. His stomach bore, without difficulty, the coarsest and most ungi-ateful food. Great was the indifference with which he submitted to every kind of self-denial. The qualities of his mind were of the same hardy, vigorous kind as those of his body. His understanding was strong and perspicacious. His judg- ment, in whatever related to the service he was en- gaged in, quick and sure. His designs were bold and manly ; and both in the conception and in the mode of execution, bore evident marks of a great original genius. His courage was cool and determined, and accompanied with an admirable presence of mind in the moment of danger. His temper might, perhaps, have been justly blamed as subject to hastiness and passion, had not these been disarmed by a disposition the most benevolent and humane. Such were the outUnes of Captain Cook's character ; but its most distinguishing feature was that unremitting perseverance in the pursuit of his object, which was not only superior to the opposition of dan- gers, and the pressure of hardships, but even exempt from the want of ordinary relaxation. During the long and tedious voyages in which he was engaged, his eager- and activity were never in the least abated. No CAPTAIN COOK. 99 incidental temptation could detain him for a moment • even those intervals of recreation, which sometimes un- avoidably occurred, and were looked for by us with a longing, that persons who have experienced the fa- tigues of service will readily excuse, were submitted to by him with a certain impatience, whenever they could not be employed in making a further provision for the more effectual prosecution of his designs." WILLIAM COWPER. To Cowper must mainly be attributed the overthrow of the artificial school of poetry, founded by Pope and his followers, to make room for a more natural manifes- tation of thought and feeling, united to a keener percep- tion of the beauties, harmonies, and sublimities of crea- tion. He was the son of the Rev. John Cowper, rector of Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, and was born in that village, November 26th, 1731. From his infancy he was delicate in body, and excessively sensitive in mind. To such a child maternal attention is of the greatest value and importance ; but Cowper had the misfortune to lose his mother before he was six years old, and the early loss of that tender parent, whose " constant flow of love" he so beautifully describes in the lines on receiving her picture, made a deep and lasting impression on his mind. After spending a short time at a preparatory academy, he was sent to Westminster school, where he is reported to have suffered much from the wanton tyranny of his school -fellows, who, with the usual unthinking cruelty of youth, triumphed over the gentleness and timidity of his spirit. WaiTen Hastings was, at this time, a pupil in the same school ; he showed some kindness to young Cowper, who, in later years, refused to credit the charges brought against Hastings on his impeachment. He left school at the age of eighteen, and entered an attorney's office, where he be- came acquainted with Thurlow, afterward Lord Chan- cellor of England. Neither in this office nor subse- WILLIAM COWPER. 101 quently, when he became a member of the Inner Tem- ple, did Cowper pay any attention to the study of the law : he attached himself to literature, and cultivated the acquaintance of Churchill, Colman, Lloyd, and Thornton, who had been his school-fellows at Westminster. Later in life, he lamented the waste of time in which he had indulged, and felt some remorse for his intimacy with persons whose moral opinions were far from the rigid strictness of his own. He appears to have contributed to the " Connoisseur," and other literary periodicals established by his friends, but the amount of his contri- butions cannot now be ascertained. Cowper's extreme diffidence presented an insuperable obstacle to his success at the bar. Through the influ- ence of some powerful friends he was appointed reading- clerk and clerk of committees to the House of Lords ; an oflice which would have insured him competence without much labor. But his bashfulness was so great, that he could not endure the idea of reading in public, and he resigned it for the less lucrative situation of clerk of the journals. Unfortunately it was necessaiy that he should appear at the bar of the house to qualify for this post; his morbid feelings on this occasion were so in- tense, that when the day for his appearance came, his friends acquiesced in his relinquishing the attempt, and he was thus deprived of the comfortable provision which had been placed within his reach. His mind became disordered during this painful strug- gle ; he sunk into deep religious despondency, and it was found necessary to place him in a lunatic asylum under the care of Dr. Cotton. His disease lasted from December 1763, to July 1764 ; his recovery was gi'eatly accelerated by a perusal of the third chapter of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, which suggested to him more cheering views of religion than he had previously enter- tained ; but we must not, therefore, attribute his original disease to his religious tenets. It was the obvious re- sult of the excessive sensitiveness and nervous sensibility, which prevented him from accepting an office that re- quired a public appearance before Parliament. On quit- ting the asylum, Cowper removed to Huntingdon, for the purpose of being near his brother, who was a resi- I 2 102 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. dent Fellow of Bene't College, Cambridge. Here he Decame acquainted with the Unwin family, of which he oecame a permanent inmate ; and on the death of the elder Mr. Unwin, he accompanied the widow to the village of Olney, in Buckinghamshire, where he lived in the greatest retirement. The curate of Olney, at this period, was the pious and exemplaiy Rev. John Newton, with whom Cowper formed a most intimate friendship. The celebrated collection, called " The Olney Hymns," was the result of their joint labors. In 1770 he lost his brother, to whom he had been fondly attached ; this increased the gloominess of his mind, and in 1773 he again fell into the horrors of religious despondency. Mrs. Unwin watched over him with a tenderness and fortitude, which amounted to maternal protection ; no- thing could surpass the sufferings of the patient, or excel the care of the nurse. Her solicitude was rewarfled by his gi'adual restoration to sanity and health, and by his subsequent display of poetic powers of the highest order. The first amusement which helped to re- lieve the disti-ess of his mind, was the taming of three leverets, which had been presented to him by a friend. But he also tried, at different times, to divert his mind from the contemplation of his miseiy by gardening, drawing, and a variety of ti'ifiing manual applications. In a letter to Mr. King he says, " Many arts 1 have ex- ercised with this view, for which nature never designed me, though among them were some in which I arrived at considerable proficiency, by mere dint of the most heroic perseverance. There is not a squire in all this country who can boast of having made better squirrel- houses, hutches for rabbits, or bird-cages, than myself: and in the article of cabbage-nets, I had no superior. But gardening was, of all employments, that in which I succeeded best, though even in this, I did not suddenly attain perfection." His friends, however, felt that literary exertion was hkely to prove the most effectual remedy for his depres- sion of mind ; at their .instigation he prepared for the press his first volume of poems, including " Table Talk," "Hope," "The Progress of Error," "Charity," &c., which was published by Mr. Johnson, of St. Paul's WILLIAM COWPER. 103 Churchyard, in 1782. A copy was sent by the poet to his old schoolfellow and companion Thurlow, who had risen to the dignity of Lord Chancellor, but it produced no result. The success of the volume was not, at first, equal to the author's expectations, or the inherent merits of the work ; the austerity of some passages, and the morose severity of others, were not acceptable to the great body of the public ; but, by degi-ees, the diversified merits of the poems became known, and their reputation was es- tabUshed. The removal of the Rev. Mr. Newton from Olney to London, deprived Cowper of a valuable friend and asso- ciate, but his place was, for a time, supplied by Lady Austen, whose liveliness in conversation and varied ac- complishments greatly alleviated his mental suffeiings. Among other small pieces which he composed at the suggestion of Lady Austen, was the celebrated baUad of " John Gilpin," the origin of which is thus related by his biographer, Mr. Hayley. " It happened, one afternoon, that Lady Austen observed him sinking into increasing dejection ; it was her custom, on these occa- sions, to try all the resources of her sprightly powers for his immediate relief. She told him the story of John Gilpin (which had been stored in her memoiy from childhood), to dissipate the gloom of the passing hour. Its effect on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchantment ; he informed her, the next morning, that convulsions of laughter had kept him waking during the greater part of the night, and that he had turned her story into a ballad." Mrs. Unwin sent a copy of it to the Public Advertiser ; it immediately became a popular favorite, but was not known to be Cowper's until he in- cluded it in the second volume of his poems. The public was soon laid under a higher obhgation to Lady Austen for having suggested the poet's principal work, " The Task ;" — " A poem," says Mr. Hayley, " of such infinite variety, that it seems to include every subject, and every style, without any dissonance or dis- order : and to have flowed without effort from inspired philanthropy, eager to impress upon the hearts of all readers whatever may lead them most happily to the 104 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. full enjoyment of human life, and the final attainment of heaven." Lady Austen saw the benefit which Cowper derived from literary employment, and often urged him to tiy his strength in blank verse. After some pressing he prom- ised to comply, if she would furnish him with a subject. " Oh, you can write on anything," she exclaimed ; " write on this sofa." The lively answer suited the mood of his mind ; he adopted it literally, and " The Sofa" forms the subject of the first book of the poem ; but he soon rises into a higher strain, and, in his discursive range, describes the beauty of rural scenery, the peculiar occu- pations of the winter season, the evils and advantages of civilization ; applies the lash of satire to vice, and inculcates a religion of peace and love. The scope and conduct of the poem is well described in the following lines, which form part of the conclusion : — " It shall not grieve me, then, that once, when call'd To dress a sofa with the flowers of verse, I played awhile, obedient to the fair, With that light task ; but soon, to please her mOie Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, Let fall the unfinish'd wreath and roved for fruit ; Roved far, and gather'd much ; some harsh, 'tis true, Picked from the thorns and briers of reproof, But wholesome, well-digested, grateful some, To palates that can taste immortal truth; Insipid else, and sure to be despised." At the instigation of the same lady, Cowper under- took the translation of Homer into blank verse ; this task had a most beneficial effect in furnishing him with constant employment, though the work added little to his reputation. His version is far more faithful than that of Pope, but it is deficient in spirit and energy ; indeed there is no version but that of Chapman which gives an adequate conception of the Homeric life and vigor. During all the period occupied by the literary labors we have described, Cowper's domestic history was cloud- ed by the general depression previously mentioned, and passed in strict seclusion. The jealousy with which Mrs. Unwin began to regard the superior powers and at- tainments of Lady Austen, diminished his narrow circle. WILLIAM COWPER. 105 In 1784, he found it necessaiy to choose between the two friends, and deeply grateful for the parental care with which Mrs. Unwin had watched over him during long years of sorrow and sickness, he felt it his duty to address a farewell letter to Lady Austen, explaining the circumstances, and lamenting the separation. Notwith- standing this interruption to his tranquiUity, for such it certainly proved, although he was conscious that he had acted a strictly honorable part, he proceeded to complete his second volume of poems, which, in addition to " The Task," included the " Tirocinium," a poem, written expressly in dispraise of the existing system of public schools in England ; it was probably prompted by the poet's recollections of his own sufferings when a stu- dent at Westminster. This collection was published in 1785, and soon engaged the attention and admiration of the public, in a way that fully compensated for the cool reception and slow progress of the first volume. The success of his poems obtained for him a new female friend and associate, his cousin. Lady Hesketh, with whom his intercourse had been interrupted for three-and-twenty years. She provided the poet with a residence in the village of Weston near Olney, and pro- vided many comforts for him, from which he had been previously debarred by his limited income. Such kind- ness enabled him to complete his translation of Homer, which was published in July, 1791, with so much suc- cess, that the first edition was exhausted in less than six months. On the second edition he was bestowing such careful emendations as would have amounted to a new translation, but his mental malady continued unabated, and the gi-owing infirmities of Mrs. Unwin, who was attacked with paralysis, added to his uneasi- ness. At the same time he had been requested to su- perintend a new edition of Milton's works, a task for which he was preeminently qualified ; but, from the causes mentioned, this work was abandoned, as was also a poem that he had projected on the " Four Ages of Man ; or Infancy, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age." The cessation from literary labor gi-eatly increased his mental malady, which was further aggravated by bodily disease. A few intervals of brightness occurred 106 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. occasionally, during which he produced some short but powerful pieces of poetry, and continued his labor of translating the Odyssey. In February, 1800, he exhib- ited all the symptoms of dropsy, which soon made rapid progress, and on the 25th of April, in the same year, he expired, so ti-anquilly, that his friends in the room were not for some time aware of the fact of his death. He was buried in Dereham Church, where a monument was erected to his memory by Lady Hesketh. It is unnecessary to dwell on Cowper's merits as a poet; they have been universally acknowledged. There is, however, one circumstance connected with his works which must not be omitted : — he revived Christian liter- ature in the land. In the long intei-val between Milton and Cowper, genius had too rarely paid homage to the great Source of all good and precious gifts, whether intellectual or material : but Cowper made religion his favorite theme ; not a religion of mental abstraction, but one of practical efficacy, on every feeling of the heart and every action of the life. It was ever his aim in his writings, to promote " Glory to God in the highest," by advancing " Peace upon earth, good-will toward REV. GEORGE CRABBE. This amiable man and excellent poet was born on the 24th of December, 1754, at Aldborough, where his father held the situation of collector of the salt duties. Having early shown a passion for learning, his family aftbrded him the best means of education in their power. At an early age he was bound apprentice to a surgeon, but about the same time he began to exhibit a love of poetry, which is too often inconsistent with more severe studies. The necessities of his family, and his own poverty, however, compelled him to labor in his profession, and though the insti'uctions he received were desultory, he profited so far by them as to make him- self a very respectable practitioner. Having become attached to a young lady, Sarah Elmy, he resolved not to marry until he had the means of supporting a family ; for this purpose he commenced business as an apothecary at Aldborough, but his success did not answer his ex- pectations. He had a transient gleam of fortune when the Warwickshire militia were quartered in that town : the officers having discovered his worth, invited him to share their society, and the colonel, afterwards the celebrated Field-Marshal Conway, presented him, at parting, with some valuable Latin works, fi'om the study of which he derived much improvement. Find- ing, however, that his professional prospects did not improve, he collected together the manuscripts of the poetry which he had composed at various times, and came to London as a literary adventurer. His early career in London was one of suffering and 108 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. disappointment ; the booksellers refused even to look at his productions ; one poem, which he published anony- mously, brought him no profit, in consequence of the failure of the publisher, and the copies of the verses which he addressed to some of the most eminent men of the day, received no attention. Pecuniary embar- rassments began to accumulate around him, and he was almost reduced to despair. Under these circumstances he resolved to address a letter to Edmund Burke, though wholly unknown to that statesman, containing a candid statement of his position, and an earnest request for assistance and advice. Burke was much struck by the eloquent simplicity of the application, and though at this period (1781) he was deeply immersed in the turmoil of political life, he granted an intei-view to the distressed poet. Crabbe brought with him the manu- scripts of several works, more or less complete, out of which Burke selected the " Libraiy" and the " Village" as the best fitted for immediate publication. He invited the author to visit him at Beaconsfield, introduced him to several booksellers, who were now ready to treat with him on liberal terms, and sounded his praise in the lordly and literaiy circles, where Burke's authority reigned paramount. Thus pati-onized, the publication of " The Library" was eminently successful, and gave the author a high place among his literaiy contem- poraries. While Crabbe was on a visit with Burke, the latter had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the extent of classical information which the young poet had acquired by his almost unaided efforts. He resolved to secure him from future distress by procuring him a profession, and through his influence with Dr. Yonge, Bishop of Norwich, Crabbe was admitted to holy orders. This was not all : Lord Chancellor Thurlow was one of the noblemen to whom the poet had addressed his supplicatory verses in the period of his distress, and he had resented the neglect by a second copy of verses, in which the chancellor's character was rather harshly cen- sured. On learning Crabbe's merits, probably through the medium of Burke, the chancellor sent for him, apologized for his former rudeness, and presented him REV. GEORGE CRABBE. 109 with a hundred pounds, promising, beside, that he would remember him in his official distribution of patronage. Crabbe, having obtained the curacy of Aldborough, returned to his native town in a very different position from that in which he had left it a few months before. His mother, to whom he was fondly attached, had died in his absence, and this was the first drawback on his happiness. But other inconveniences soon arose, prov- ing the truth of the aphorism, that " a prophet has no honor in his own country." It was whispered in the town, that a man who had failed in one profession, was not likely to succeed in another ; stories of his early life were revived and misrepresented ; and complaints were made of his display of pride to those who had been formerly his equals. Fortunately, the active kind- ness of Burke procured him the appointment of domestic chaplain to the Duke of Rutland ; he removed to Belvoir Castle, where he found leisure to prepare for the press his second poem, " The Village," which had the ad- vantage of being revised by Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burke previous to its publication. In December, 1783, he married the lady to whom he had been so steadily attached, and though he would have been permitted to retain his apartments in Belvoir Castle, he took the neighboring curacy of Stathern, and resided in the humble parsonage attached to that office. On the death of the Duke of Rutland, the dowager duchess resolved to provide for her former chaplain, and, through her influence, he became rector of the parish of Hus- ton, in Leicestershire. About the same time he pub- lished his third poem, " The Newspaper," and then withdrew himself entirely from public view, for two- and-twenty years. During the long period of his retirement from literary life, Crabbe zealously devoted himself to his duties as a parish clergyman; he retained sufficient knowledge of medicine to enable him to render frequent assistance to his poorer parishioners, and all his leisure was bestowed on the education of his children. In 1807 he once more asserted his claims as a poet, by the publication of " The Parish Register." When K 110 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. he first sketched the plan of this poem he mentioned it to Mr. Fox, who promised to give it the benefit of his revision ; but when the time for sending it to press arrived, that great statesman was sinking under the fatigues of office and the weakness of a shattered consti- tution. He, nevertheless, sent for the poem to his sick- room, and made some suggestions which, after his death, were implicitly obeyed. Few poems have been more successful than " The Parish Register ;" the stories of which it is composed have a stern air of truth, which at once enforces a conviction of their reality, and they are nan-ated with an earnestness and sti-ength of expression equally original and powerful. In 1810 his fame was raised still higher by the publi- cation of " The Borough," in which the tales were more finished, and the story more fully developed, than in his previous publication. This was followed by his " Tales in Verse," which manifested an increase of power in naiTative description. The death of his wife, in 1813, produced such an eflfect on his health, that fears were entertained for his life ; it was fortunate that he was soon after able to exchange the living of Muston for that of Trowbridge, and thus to escape from a place where eveiy object revived the recollections of " the loved and lost." In 1817, Crabbe was introduced to the brilliant lite- raiy circles of London which had been formed at the houses of the Marquis of Lansdowne, the late Lord Holland, the late Mr. John MuiTay, and Mr. Samuel Rogers. The notes which he kept of his conversations with the eminent men to whom he was inti'oduced, are too brief to be of much interest, but there is no doubt that he produced a most pleasing effect on all who saw and heard him, by the simplicity of his manners and the shrewdness of his remarks. In 1819 he published " The Tales of the Hall," for which he received from MuiTay the munificent remuneration of three thousand pounds. The remaining years of his life were divided between his parochial duties, and visits to the many distinguished persons who cultivated his acquaintance through admi- ration of his work. This list included the most eminent REV. GEORGE CRABBE. Ill men of the time, to whom the venerable poet seemed the last representative of a past age ; for he alone could describe to them the days of Burke, Reynolds, and Johnson. A great moralist has justly observed, that a life may be very happy and very useful w^ithout being marked by any great incident. This was the case with Crabbe. From the time that the patronage of Burke placed him above the reach of want, there were few events in his career which differed from the ordinary course of life of any respectable clergyman. During the long interval that elapsed between the publication of " The Newspaper" and the appearance of " The Regis- ter," he was almost forgotten in the world, and his re- appearance in the literary circles was like that of some one who had risen from the dead. His later works ap- peared at distant intervals ; each showed the result of acute observation and mature reflection, but had little in common with the current literature of the day. In fact, he belonged more to the school of Burke and John- son, than to that of Byron, Scott, and Moore, which was in vogue when his best works were produced. Hence he was never placed in contrast with his later contem- poraries ; they seem to have viewed him as a literary patriarch, whom it was safe to revere, as he neither felt nor excited envy. His death took place January 3d, 1832 ; he expired with the firmness of a man, and the tranquillity of a Christian. Crabbe's works will always be valued as genuine pic- tures of English life, but it is to be regretted that he has given most prominence to the sterner and harsher fea- tures in the several characters he has delineated. His style is sometimes as harsh as his sentiments ; but, whenever he gave way to a gush of affection, his versi- fication became as melodious as his feelings were tender. He was a good rather than a great man, but he was loved by all who knew himself, and is admired by all who know his works. SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. Chemical science has advanced more rapidly than any other branch of experimental philosophy within the last century; its applications to various industrial arts become every year more numerous and more important, so that its progress is, to a considerable extent, identified with our manufacturing and commercial prosperity. Few men have contributed more to the advancement of this science than Davy, who devoted to it the labors of his entire life. He was the son of a cai-ver in wood, and was born at Penzance, December 17, 1778. From his childhood he showed a remarkable quickness in ac- quiring knowledge, and a decided love of literature. He practiced oratoiy, wrote poetiy, and composed romances, and at the same time evinced a taste for experimental science. The latter circumstance probably induced his family to bind him apprentice to Mr. Borlase, a surgeon and apothecary, in the town of Penzance, who had a great taste for chemical experiments, and devoted to them the leisure moments left him by his profession. Young Davy devoted himself to similar pursuits with the most extraordinary enthusiasm ; he abandoned all the enjoyments and relaxations usual in youth, showed an aversion to festive society, and, when not engaged in active researches, seemed absorbed in contemplation. He had to contend against many disadvantages ; the books at his command were few, his master had no philosophical apparatus, and the instruments he em- ployed, being of his own contrivance and manufacture, were of tlie rudest possible description. The gallipots SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 113 and phials of his master's shop were, however, put into requisition, and with these he pursued researches which involved some of the most difficult problems in chemical analysis. At length he became possessed of a case of surgical instniments, which had been saved from the wi'eck of a vessel : this was to him a real treasure at the time, and enabled him to pursue a series of experi- ments into the nature of heat, light, and their combina- tions. The results of his investigations were published in a work edited by Dr. Beddoes, of Bristol, in 1799, and attracted much notice, as Davy's conclusions were quite opposed to Dr. Black's theory of heat, which was at that time popular in the scientific world. The ardor with which Davy pursued his investiga- tions greatly annoyed many of his neighbors, for chemis- try produces many results offensive to the sense of smell, and, when incautiously pursued, exposes men to danger from the bursting of the vessels they employ, or the combustion of the substances they use. His master, too, began to complain that metals, minerals, and vege- table substances absorbed the attention which should have been bestowed on patients, and many patients re- monstrated against the neglect of their real or fancied complaints for pursuits which they probably regarded as idle and useless. The reports respecting the young man's vagaries, as they were deemed, reached the ear of Mr. Davies Gilbert, himself an enthusiastic lover of science. He sought young Davy's acquaintance, was struck with the extent of his acquirements, gave him the use of an excellent library, and introduced him to Dr. Edwards, who possessed a well-furnished laboratory. Mr. Gilbert afterward compared Davy's pleasure, when surrounded with a set of fine philosophical instruments, to the delight of a child introduced to a magazine of toys. The air-pump, known to him previously only by de- scriptions and engravings, more especially fixed his at- tention ; he probably revolved in his mind the problems which he hoped to investigate by its aid, and was the more interested, as some of his earliest researches were directed to investigate the nature of the air secreted in the vessels of marine plants. He was soon after en- gaged assistant to Dr. Beddoes, in the Pneumatic Insti- 8 k2 114 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tution at Bristol, and, being thus set free from the med- ical profession, he devoted his whole time to the culti- vation of science. It would be impossible to give the history of all, or even a gi-eat part of Davy's discoveries, without entering into details and dissertations which could only be under- stood by adepts in chemistiy : we shall, therefore, only notice the most popular. The inquiry which he pur- sued with the most ardor, was the effect of various gases and gaseous exhalations on life and health. Berthollet the younger, a chemist of high repute, had voluntarily sacrificed his life in the same investigation ; he inclosed himself in an atmosphere destructive of life, wrote down his successive sensations with equal accuracy and cool- ness, and thus continued until the pen dropped from his hand, and he fell lifeless. Davy exhibited an almost equal desperation, of which he has given the following account : — " My friend Mr. James Tobin being present, after a forced exhaustion of my lungs, the nose being accurately closed, I made three inspirations and expira- tions of the hydro-carbonate. The first inspiration pro- duced a sort of numbness and loss of feeling in the chest and about the pectoral muscles. After the second, I lost all power of perceiving external things, and had no distinct sensation, except that of a terrible oppression on the chest. During the third, this feeUng subsided, — I seemed sinking into annihilation, and had just power enough to cut off the mouth-piece from my unclosed lips. A short interval must have passed, during which I respired common air, before the objects around me were distinguishable. On recollecting myself, I faintly articulated ' I do not think I shall die.' " The publication of these researches, and the success of the young chemist in his examination of the nature of galvanism and the structure of plants^ made his name known to the leading men of science : and in 1801, on the recommendation of Count Rumford, he was ap- pointed assistant lecturer at the Royal Institution. Davy's lec^Jres, notwithstanding the abstruseness of their subjects, became exceedingly popular ; his mind was essentially of a poetic cast, and his range of imagi- nation supplied him with a rich variety of metaphors SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 115 and original illustration, such as poets themselves re- garded with admiration. His fame soon spread abroad ; the Board of Agriculture engaged his services as chemi- cal professor; and the Royal Society, of which he became secretary in 1807, frequently applied to him to deliver the annual Bakerian Lecture. But these engagements did not divert his attention from experi- mental research. His discoveries in chemical and electrical science were announced every year, to the surprise and admiration of philosophers ; but his highest fame arose from his determination of the laws of voltaic electricity, by which he might be said to have created an entirely new branch of science. Though England was then at war with France, the Imperial Institute of Paris awarded him a prize of three thousand francs, which he accepted, declaring that "if governments are at war, men of science are not." Honors now began to be proffered him from various quarters. The Uni- versity of Dublin created him a Doctor of Laws ; he was knighted by the Prince Regent, and elected an honor- aiy member of most learned bodies in England and on the Continent. In 1811 he married Mrs. Apreece, a lady of very large fortune, and soon after published his Elements of Chemical Philosophy, which he dedicated to his lady, "as a pledge that he should continue to pursue science with unabated ardor." After the return of Napoleon from Elba in 1814, Sir Humphrey Davy, anxious to visit the extinct volcanos in Auvergne, solicited permission to travel in France, which was immediately granted. The greatest atten- tion and respect were shown him by the men of science in Paris ; but he received these honors rather ungi-a- ciously, and Napoleon took an opportunity of censuring the haughtiness with which the great English chemist treated the men of science in Paris. It is scarcely just to ascribe Sir Humphrey Davy's conduct to arrogance ; he was a little eccentric, and his want of familiarity either with French manners or the French language rendered his position in Parisian society very liable to misapprehension. On his return to England in 1815, he resolved to turn his attention to the fire-damp, or explosive gas. found in 116 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. coal-mines, which had been the cause of many dreadful accidents. After a long series of experiments, he dis- covered that if the flame of a lamp was protected by a wire gauze, the gases brought into contact with the lamp would not explode, while the light would still be preserved. This great discovery, which enabled miners to work in the midst of danger with perfect safety, was justly appreciated by the coal-owners of the north of England ; they invited him to a public dinner at New- castle, and presented him with a service of plate, val- ued at two thousand pounds. The Emperor of Russia sent him a splendid silver vase, as a testimony of regard, and he was created a baronet by the Prince Regent. But his best reward was the consciousness that the simple implement which he had invented annually saved hundreds of lives : indeed, there has not since been an instance of explosion where the Safety-lamp has been used. In 1820 he was elected President of the Royal Society. Two new projects at this time engaged his attention ; the possibility of unrolling the papyri found at Herculaneum, and a means of preventing the corro- sion of copper used in the sheathing of ships. Both his attempts failed, and the latter caused him great mental inquietude, as he had publicly boasted of his success. From this time he began to relax in his scientific pur- suits. He resigned his office in the Royal Society, and went to Italy for the benefit of his health, where he amused himself in writing his " Consolations in Travel, or the Last Days of a Philosopher." These last days were fast approaching : he quitted Italy in a very weak state, but had only reached Geneva on his way home, when he died on the 29th of May, 1829. Sir Humphrey Davy was one of the few men who united the vigorous imagination of a poet to the patient research of a philosopher ; he was equally fertile in in- vention and patient in investigation. " His mind," says one of his biogi-aphers, " was no less logical and precise than it was daring and comprehensive ; nothing was too mighty for its grasp, — nothing too minute for its obser- vation : like the trunk of the elephant, it could tear up the oak of the forest, or gently pluck the acorn from its branch." Some infirmities of temper sometimes cast a SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 117 shade over his better quahties ; he was disposed to be jealous of the fame of others, and to undervalue every kind of merit but such as he himself possessed. But these imperfections may well be excused, when we re- member that he gave the nation the benefit of all his brilliant discoveries, and in no one instance secured for himself the benefit of any of his useful inventions by taking out a patent. LORD ELDON. Few statesmen have exercised a more direct influ- ence on public affairs, or retained their power for a longer period, than the late Earl of Eldon ; still fewer have won their way to fame and fortune, by courage and perseverance against such an amount of early difficulties as he had to encounter. His father was a respectable coal-dealer at Newcastle-on-Tyne, where John Scott, the subject of the present memou-, was born on the 4th of June, 1751. His elder brother WiUiam, by a for- tuitous circumstance, which materially influenced the future fortunes of both, was born in the county of Dur- ham, his mother having removed fi'om Newcastle to avoid the dangers with which that town was menaced by the expected approach of the Pretender's army in 1745. The brothers were educated at the Royal Gram- mar School of Durham, then conducted by Mr. Moises, and, though guilty of some youthful pranks, they were diligent scholars, and great favorites of their master. In 1761, a scholarship for the diocese of Durham having become vacant at Corpus Christi College, advantage was taken of William's accidental birth in that diocese to propose him as a candidate. He passed his exami- nation very creditably, and received the appointment. Three years afterwards he obtained a fellowship, and was appointed a college tutor. Thus circumstanced, he resolved to send for his brother John, whom their father had designed to succeed him in business, and to give him the educational advantages of professional life. John went to Oxford, where he became a diligent stu- LORD ELDON. 119 dent, and early distinguished himself by obtaining the prize in English composition. Before he was fixed in any profession, and while yet in some degree dependent upon his brother as well as his father, he ran away with a lady to Scotland, and this premature marriage involved him in considerable difficulties. One result was, that he was compelled to abandon his prospects in the Church, by resigning the fellowship which he held in Oxford, and he thus was very reluctantly compelled to adopt that profession, the bar, which alone could have given him the place in his- tory that he has, not undeservedly, attained. He was called to the bar in February, 1776, and for the first two years seemed to have little prospect of suc- cess. His first great effort was in a case which his clients had resolved to abandon as hopeless : Scott, with some difficulty, obtained their permission to persevere at his own hazard, and the decision of the Lord Chan- cellor was in his favor. Soon after, he was unexpectedly called upon to conduct an election case, on the morning of the day when it was to be brought before a Com- mittee of the House of Commons. Though his clients failed of success, the abilities which Scott displayed, and the readiness and tact which he exhibited, soon se- cured him the estimation of the members of his pro- fession. Many of them came forward with offers of pecuniary assistance, when, in consequence of the ex- penses of a growing family, he thought of retiring to the provincial bar, on the recordership of Newcastle. Among the sti-ange incidents that help to bring men forward in life, there are few perhaps more extraordi- nary than that which first brought Scott into prominent notice on the Northern Circuit. We shall give the ac- count in his own words : — " I was counsel in a cause, the fate of which depended on our being able to make out who was the founder of an ancient chapel in the neighborhood. I went to view it. There was nothing to be observed which gave any indication of its date or history ; however, I obsei-ved that the ten command- ments were written on some old plaster, which, from its position, I conjectured might cover an arch. Acting on this, I bribed the clerk with five shillings to allow me 120 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. to chip away a part of the plaster, and, after two or three attempts, I found the keystone of an arch, on which were engraved the arms of an ancestor of one of the parties. This evidence decided the cause, and I ever afterward had reason to remember, with some satisfaction, my having on that occasion broken the ten commandments." In this anecdote, Lord Eldon has not done justice to himself. In his early youth, he never missed any opportunity of acquiring miscellaneous knowledge. The reading of some works on gothic architecture, and a slight study of heraldry, for mere amusement, enabled him to gain the clue to evidence, which, though he described it as fortuitous, was really the logical result of previous study. His subsequent successes are purely professional, and it is only neces- sary to state that they procured for him, in 1783, the rank of King's Counsel. In the same year Mr. Scott was returned to Parlia- ment for Lord Weymouth's borough of Weobly. He entered pohtical life when Mr. Fox's India Bill was deemed decisive of the great struggle between that statesman and his rival Mr. Pitt. Scott took the side of the latter ; his speech on the third reading of the bill was, however, more remarkable for the zeal of a parti- san than the ability of a statesman, and the orator showed his prudence by never afterward indulging in flights of rhetorical declamation. From this time, his reputation at the bar and in the senate steadily in- creased ; and Mr. Pitt, to whom he was firmly attached, derived most important advantages from his support. In 1788 he became solicitor-general, and was knighted by the king, an honor which he received with some reluc- tance. Soon after, he took a leading part in the discus- sion on the Regency question, of which we have given an account in the Life of Mr. Fox ; the king was much pleased with Sir John Scott's resistance to the measures proposed by the opposition, and thenceforward regarded him more as a private friend than an official servant. In 1793 Sir John Scott became attorney-general. It was a period of great difficulty and anxiety. The King of France had just been put to death by his sub- jects ; war had been declared against France ; and LORD ELDON. 121 England was disturbed by political agitators, who advo- cated principles too nearly approaching to those of the French Republicans. But the loyalty of the great body of the nation was unquestionable, and the alarms, excited by the efforts of a few noisy discontented individuals, were greatly exaggerated beyond what the occasion required. Early in 1794, the Habeas Corpus act was suspended, and several of the leading agitators taken into custody. A special commission was issued in September for the trial of political offenders, and twelve of those who had taken a prominent part in seditious societies were indicted for high treason. Hardy was the first brought to the bar : the opening speech of the attorney-general occupied no less than nine hours in its delivery, and this circumstance weighed not a little in favor of the prisoner, as it showed that the evidence which required so long an explanation of introductory matter could not be palpable and direct. The evidence for the prosecution closed on the fifth morning of the trial, when Mr. Erskine opened the case for the defence in a speech of unrivaled eloquence and argument. The prisoner's case occupied two days, and Sir John Scott made an able reply. Lord Chief-Justice Eyre then summed up the evidence, and the jury, after delibe- rating more than three hours, returned a verdict of acquittal. Nothing could exceed the popular excite- ment during this trial, which lasted nine days and eight nights : the friends of the attorney-general believed that he was exposed to personal danger, from the rage of the mob, but Sir John Scott himself never showed any timidity, and Mr. Erskine, who, as counsel for the defendants, was exceedingly popular, always kept his carriage near that of the attorney-general. The failure of the prosecution against Hardy greatly aggravated the difficulties of the law officers of the crown in proceeding against the other prisoners. After some anxious discussions it was resolved to continue the prosecutions, and the Rev. John Home Tooke was the next brought to trial. This second trial lasted six days, and was little better than a repetition of the arguments and evidence in Hardy's case, and the jury pronounced a verdict of acquittal after a deliberation of a few minutes. L 122 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. The case against Thelwall similarly failed after a trial of four days, and the government then abandoned the rest of the prosecutions. This failure, and the subse- quent enactment of new coercive measures against secret societies and seditious meetings, provoked severe ani- madversions. In 1798, Sir John Scott prosecuted the Rev. J. O'Coigley and some others, for high treason, at Maidstone ; O'Coigley was convicted, and the rest acquitted ; and it was remarked that this was the only occasion on which the attorney -general obtained a verdict, though he had six tunes prosecuted for high treason. This was probably one of the reasons for his anxiety to be appointed to the Chief-Justiceship of the Common Pleas, which became vacant in 1799. After some delay, Mr. Pitt consented to the arrangement, on the condition of the new judge becoming a peer, to which the king added the additional stipulation of his not refusing to accept the office of chancellor, if ever it should be offered. All difficulties were soon overcome ; Sir John Scott became Chief Justice, a member of the Privy Council, and Baron Eldon. It had been Mr. Pitt's intention to follow up the Legislative Union with Ireland, by a measure for eman- cipating the Catholics from their political disabilities. To this George III. was strongly opposed, and his opinions were shared by Lord Eldon. On the formation of the Addington administi-ation, the king required Lord Eldon to fulfil his promise of becoming chancellor when required, and personally presented him with the seals of office, using the strong expression, " I give them to you from my heart !" It is probable that the king was conscious of the mental indisposition under which he at this time suffered, and was therefore anxious to have a personal friend in the most important office under the crown. Certain it is that Lord Eldon, during the period of painful suspense in which the issue of the royal malady remained doubtful, was the most confi- dential adviser of the queen and the princes, and the most ti'usted adviser of his majesty during his lucid intervals. It would be an invidious task to inquire whether the chancellor did not, on some occasions, allow a nominal exercise of royal authority when the LORD ELDON. 123 king was not in so sound a state of mind as to be capable of exercising his judgment. Lord Eldon acted for the king in the negotiations that led to Mr. Pitt's return to office, and took rather an active part in enforcing the exclusion of Mr. Fox from the cabinet ; this increased his influence with the king, but tended to render him unpopular in the country. The part, however, which he acted, was more influ- ential than conspicuous ; in Parliament he was princi- pally known as the leading opponent of Catholic eman- cipation, against which he made his first speech in 1805. When the Fox and Grenville ministiy was formed, the chancellor resigned v and was succeeded by Lord Erskine. In this intei-val of retirement he became the confidential adviser of the Princess of Wales (afterward the unfortunate Queen Caroline), whose conduct was made the subject of a " delicate investigation." The king took part with his daughter-in-law against his son, and the difterence of opinion between him and his ministers on this subject showed that the Grenvilles were not likely to have a long tenure of office. At this crisis the ministers introduced a bill, with a clause granting certain relaxations to Roman Catholic officers serving in the army or navy ; the king was alarmed, or pretended to be so, and eagerly embraced the opportu- nity of removing a cabinet which he disliked. A new administration was formed, with the Duke of Portland as premier; and Lord Eldon, after little more than a year of exclusion, resumed the office of chancellor. He was soon called upon to defend his colleagues for having sent an expedition against Denmark, to compel the surrender of the Danish fleet, in order to prevent its falling into the hands of Napoleon. The best comment on this transaction is a characteristic trait of George III., which Lord Eldon, many years afterward, related to Mrs. Forster : — " Do you recollect when we took the Danish fleet during the war, Mrs. Forster? We had no right whatever to do so, but we were obliged, or it would have fallen into the hands of Bonaparte. We deemed it a matter of necessity. Well, we sent an ambassador — I think it was Mr. Jackson — to demand the ships 124 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. from the Prince Royal; and when the ambassador waited on George III. on his return, the king abruptly- asked him, ' Was the Prince Royal up-stairs when he received you?' 'He was on the ground-floor, please your majesty.' ' I am glad of it — I am glad of it, for your sake,' rejoined the king, ' for if he had had half the spirit of George III. he would infallibly have kicked you down stairs.' " This story was related to Lord Eldon by the king himself. When Mr. Canning sought the removal of Lord Castlereagh, as we have mentioned in Canning's life, he further suggested the propriety of transferring the Great Seal from Lord Eldon to Mr. Perceval; this offence was never forgiven, and their further differences on the Catholic question effectually prevented a recon- ciliation. To Lord Eldon, perhaps, more than to any other person, was owing the failure of the several negotiations for strengthening the ministry by intro- ducing some of the leaders of the liberal party into the cabinet; he was the unflinching opponent of every measure which came from that party, and to him must chiefly be attributed the long delay in settling the question of Catholic Emancipation, and the repeated frustration of Sir* Samuel Romilly's benevolent efforts to diminish the indiscriminate severity of the British criminal code. When George III. became finally incapacitated for the functions of royalty, Lord Eldon defended the pro- priety of a restricted regency. This did not, as was expected, excite hostility in the mind of the Prince of Wales ; in the course of a year he became so perfectly reconciled to his father's ministers, that when the re- strictions ceased he resolved to continue them in office. An abortive attempt was made to form a coalition with Lords Grey and Grenville, but it never appears to have had a chance of success, and it is doubtful whether there was a sincere desire that it should succeed. The lam- entable death of Mr. Perceval, who was assassinated in the lobby of the House of Commons, produced little or no change ; Lord Liverpool succeeded him as premier, and under his administration the wai* against France was brought to a successful termination. In the riots LORD ELDON. 125 which were occasioned by the introduction of the corn- laws, Lord Eldon's house was attacked by the mob, but the mischief done was not gi-eat ; the chancellor evinced gi-eat firmness on the occasion, though he was far from being a prominent supporter of the obnoxious law. We now approach an event in Lord Eldon's life, which, for many reasons, we should wish to avoid dis- cussing, and which we shall, therefore, handle as deli- cately as possible. Soon after the death of the Princess Charlotte, the regent communicated to the chancellor some reports of a scandalous nature respecting the con- duct of the Princess of Wales. The celebrated Milan Commission was appointed to collect evidence on the subject ; but though the result was one which, in the opinion of the king and his ministers, estabUshed the imputed adultery, yet, so long as she continued abroad, and held no higher station than that of Princess of Wales, it was thought expedient to abstain from any public pro- ceeding on the subject of her alleged misbehavior. But when George IV. became king by his father's death, he earnestly pressed upon his ministers to procure him a divorce, which they unanimously refused. They, how- ever, promised that if the queen should at any time return, to force herself upon him and the countiy , they would comply with his desires. The omission of her name from the Liturgy produced effects which the min- istry had not anticipated ; she immediately set out on her return to England, rejected the offer of compromise made to her at St. Omers, and arrived in London, to the great dismay of the cabinet. On the evening of the same day the king sent a message to both houses of par- liament, inculpating the queen, accompanied by a gi-een bag of documents, containing the evidence collected by the Milan Commission. Lord Eldon having been the friend and adviser of the queen, when as Princess of Wales she had to meet sim- ilar charges, found himself in a veiy perplexing situation. He and most of his colleagues secretly exerted them- selves to effect some kind of compromise, but the king was firmly bent on nothing short of exposure and divorce^ while the queen demanded a public recognition of her innocence and her rights. Nothing was left but to pro- l2 126 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. ceed ; Lord Liverpool introduced the bill of " Pains and Penalties," while Lord Eldon supported the king's wishes as strenuously as if he had approved them from the very beginning. It is not necessary to give any ac- count of this disgusting ti-ial ; w^hen the evidence on both sides was concluded, Lord Eldon delivered a speech of great power against the queen, but, after a debate of four days, the second reading of the bill was carried only by a majority of twenty-eight in a house of two hundred and eighteen members. The smallness of the majority gave rise to a general expectation that the bill would be abandoned, as it probably would have been, but for the firmness and influence of Lord Eldon. When the majority, however, on the third reading, fell to nine, Lord Liverpool refused to proceed any further, and the bill was abandoned, to the great dissatisfaction of the chancellor. It was as a reward for his zeal on this oc- casion, that the chancellor was advanced to the dignity of an earl ; he was, however, unable to prevent the premier from entering into an alliance with the Gren- ville party, an alliance which certainly advanced the cause of Catholic emancipation, and pointed to the adop- tion of other hberal measures. The death of the Duke of York gi'eatly diminished the political influence of Lord Eldon ; the next heir to the throne sharing his opinions on the Catholic question, enabled him to resist the liberal portion of the cabinet with great effect for several years. But, even with this aid, the chancellor had long felt that his principles were losing ground, not merely in Parliament, but in the ad- ministration, and his reliance on the personal favor of the king was greatly shaken. The illness of Lord Liv- erpool, and the necessity of appointing a new premier, followed hard on the death of the Duke of York. On the appointment of Mr. Canning to be head of the gov- ernment. Lord Eldon and the other anti-Catholic mem- bers of the government resigned their offices, and Lord Lyndhurst succeeded to the office of chancellor. Before taking a view of Lord Eldon's character as a judge in the court over which he so long presided, it will be convenient to give a precise summary of the remaining incidents of his political life. After Canning's LORD ELDON. 127 death his successors proved too feeble to conduct the government, and a new administration was formed under the auspices of two of Lord Eldon's former associates, the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel, who had joined him in resigning when Canning became premier. They did not, however, oifer to restore him to his office as chancellor, but kept Lord Lyndhurst in his place ; this, on account of his great age, might have been ex- pected, but he was gi-eatly mortified to find that he was not invited to join the ministry in any capacity, for he expected to be, at least, appointed President of the Council. The measures of the new ministry were far from giving him satisfaction ; he led the opposition against his old colleagues on the repeal of the Test and Corpora- tion Acts, and on the question of Catholic emancipation, which he resisted to the last. With the same steady adherence to the principles of his youth, he vehemently opposed the Reform Bill, and the other measures of Earl Grey's administration, displaying, notwithstanding his age and weakness, undaunted courage and gi-eat intellectual vigor. Disheartened at last by finding his resistance to innovation unavailing, he gi-adually withdrew himself from pubhc life, and finally sank under the weight of years, at his country seat, on the 13th of January, 1838, in the eighty- seventh year of his age. Lord Eldon presided over the Court of Chanceiy for a quarter of a century, and his decisions during that pe- riod form a collection of the applied principles of equity which are of unrivaled value. His activity in political life had, however, a very injurious eflfect on his charac- ter as a judge, during his lifetime ; but, as the memory of the contests of party fades away, his legal merits become more clearly recognized, and every lawyer is ready to bestow his meed of praise on the permanent memorials of the Earl of Eldon. The chief accusation against the chancellor was the length of time which he allowed to elapse before he pronounced judgment; his doubts and delays were said to amount almost to a re- fusal of justice. LORD ERSKINE. Among those lawyers who have raised the character of the English bar to a level with the tribunals of anti- quity for the highest order of eloquence, the name of Erskine must ever be conspicuous. He was the third son of the Earl of Buchan, whose family had occupied a high station in the ancient times of the Scottish monar- chy, but had not retained their former wealth. Thomas Erskine was born in 1750, and, after having received the elements of education in the High School of Edin- burgh, and afterward at the University of St. Andrews, he was, in consequence of the limited means of his family, sent to sea as a midshipman, at the age of four- teen. Though separated thus early from his parents, he continued to cultivate the taste for literature with which they had inspired him, and early acquired the notice of his superior officers by the extensive and va- ried knowledge he displayed in conversation. After having served four years in the navy, seeing that his chances of promotion were remote, he obtained the com- mission of ensign in the first regiment of foot. In 1770 he married Miss Moore, and soon afterward went with his regiment to Minorca, where he remained about three years. Though his means were slender, yet, by the prudent economy of Mrs. Erskine, he was enabled to maintain a respectable appearance, and to mix with the best society in the gamson. On his return to England, his conversational powers procured him admission into the best literaiy circles, and Dr. Johnson, who met him accidentally, bore warm testimony to his acuteness and ingenuity. LORD KRSKINE. 129 Lady Buchan, hearing from various quarters the high- est praises of her son's intellectual powers, and aware that in the army he would have long to struggle with the embarrassments of a scanty income, urged him to prepare himself for the bar, and he is said to have adopted her advice most reluctantly and unwillingly. She continued to animate his hopes and support his courage, until success, gi'eater than any one could have anticipated, justified the wisdom of her recommendations. In 1777, Mr. Erskine entered as a fellow-commoner at Trinity College, Cambridge, and a student at Lincoln's Inn. Soon after, in order to acquire the necessary knowledge of the practical parts of his profession, he became a pupil of Mr. Buller, the most eminent special pleader of his time. While thus pursuing his studies, he had to struggle against great pecuniary difficulties, but his amiable wife cheered his exertions, and, by the most rigid frugality, rendered their narrow income suffi- cient for the support of the family. Mr. Erskine was called to the bar in Trinity Term, 1778, and almost immediately obtained an opportunity of exhibiting his rare powers as an advocate. Captain Baillie, who had been removed from the superintend- ence of Greenwich Hospital by the Earl of Sandv^ch, First Lord of the Admiralty, published an appeal to the public, which that nobleman resolved to prosecute as a libel. At the table of a common friend the captain met Mr. Erskine, and was so much sti'uck with his energy and ability, that he insisted on having him employed in his defence. The young advocate entered into the case with a courage which has had few parallels. Not con- tent with the vindication of his client, he assailed the prosecutors, and particularly Lord Sandwich, in a tone of sarcastic and indignant invective. Earl Mansfield, be- fore whom the case was tried, interrupted him more than once, but the courage of Erskine rose with the occasion, and he did not abate the severity of his ani- madversions. Such was the effect of this first speech, that, as he left the hall, thirty attorneys, who happened to be present, placed retaining fees in his hand, and his fame was considered as established. He was soon after employed as counsel for Mr. Camac. the bookseller, to 9 130 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. plead at the bar of the House of Commons against a bill introduced by Lord North, the prime minister, to re store to the universities the monopoly of publishing almanacs, which Mr. Camac had overthrown in a court of law. His speech on this occasion was much admired, and to its influence was atti'ibuted the large majority by which the bill was rejected. A new opportunity of distinguishing himself was of- fered to Mr. Erskine by the trial of Admiral Keppel, in which the feelings of the public were deeply interested. He was retained in this case, because Messrs. Dunning and Lee, the advocates originally engaged, were igno- rant of the technical phrases used in naval tactics, with- out some knowledge of which the cause could not be possibly conducted. Dunning therefore recommended that Erskine should be engaged, since to his gi'eat pow- ers as an advocate he united the practical knowledge of naval affairs he had acquired as a midshipman. His services on this occasion were rewarded by a fee of on-e thousand guineas ; and at a subsequent period they se- cured for the advocate the representation of the borough of Portsmouth. In the year 1780, London was alarmed and disgi'aced by riots which spread universal consternation. After the tumults were suppressed, the Government resolved to punish the instigators and authors of the riots. Lord George Gordon, who had taken an active part in stimu- lating popular prejudice, though he had not sanctioned any outrage, was indicted for high ti-eason. This was a case of what is called "constructive treason," in which the guilt of the accused is not to be inferred from any single act, but from a variety of cu'cumstances, which, taken separately, could not produce a conviction. In no depaitment of his profession had Mr. Erskine at- tained such excellence as in commenting upon evidence, and the defence of Lord George Gordon taxed his pow- ers to their utmost extent. The opening of this celebra- ted speech was admirably calculated to conciliate his audience : — " Gentlemen, I feel myself entitled to expect from you and fi-om the court, the greatest indulgence and atten- tion ; I am indeed a greater object of compassion than LORD ERSKINE. 131 even my noble friend whom I am defendmg. He rests secm-e in conscious innocence, and in the weh-placed assurance that it can suffer no stain in your hands. Not so with me : I stand up before you a troubled, I am afraid a guilty man, in having presumed to accept of the awful task which I am now called upon to perform ; a task which my learned friend who spoke before me, though he has justly risen by extraordinary capacity and experience to the highest rank in his profession, has spoken of with that disti'ust and diffidence which be- comes every Christian in a cause of blood. If Mr. Ken- yon has such feelings, think what mine must be ! Alas ! gentlemen, who am I? — a young man of little experi- ence, unused to the bar of criminal courts, and sinking under the dreadful consciousness of my defects. I have, however, this consolation, that no ignorance nor inatten- tion on my part can possibly prevent you from seeing, under the direction of the judges, that the crown has established no case of treason." The great merits of this speech cannot be appreciated without a diligent study of the trial itself. Admiration is excited by the subtleties with which the advocate abates the force of the testimony he is encountering, and the artful eloquence with which he exposes its de- fects and its contradictions. The concluding passage is very impressive : — " I will now relieve you from the pain of hearing me any longer, and be myself relieved from speaking on a subject wl^jich agitates and distresses me. Since Lord George Gordon stands clear of every hostile act or pur- pose against the legislature of this country or the prop- erties of his fellow-subjects — since the whole tenor of his conduct repels the belief of the traitorous conduct charged by the indictment — my task is finished. I shall make no address to your passions — I will not remind you of the long and rigorous imprisonment he has suf- fered ; — I will not speak to you of his great youth, of his illusti-ious birth, and of his uniformly animated and generous zeal in Parliament for tlie constitution of his country. Such topics might be useful in the balance of a doubtful case ; yet even then I should have trusted to tlie honest hearts of Englishmen to have felt them with- 132 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. out excitation. At present, the plain and rigid rules of justice and truth are sufficient to entitle me to your ver- dict ; and may God Almighty, who is the sacred author of both, fill your minds with the deepest impressions of them, and with virtue to follow those impressions. You will then restore my innocent client to liberty, and me to that peace of mind, which, since the protection of that innocence in any part depended on me, I have never known." Lord George Gordon was acquitted, and even those most opposed to the part he had taken rejoiced in his escape, because they believed the docti-ine of constructive ti-eason dangerous to public freedom. Soon after Erskine's election to Parliament he was employed in a case which brought into question the ex- tent of the power of juries in the case of libel. In the year 1783, soon after the conclusion of the disastrous war with America, societies began to be formed in vari- ous parts of England to procure a reform in the parlia- mentary representation. Sir William Jones wrote a little work on the subject, under the title of a " Dialogue between a Scholar and a Farmer," which, having excit- ed some attention in manuscript, was published by his brother-in-law, the Dean of St. Asaph, who prefixed to it a short advertisement. The dean was immediately in- dicted for the publication of a seditious libel, and was defended by Mr. Erskine. Judge BuUer, before whom the case was tried, insisted that the jury could only pro- nounce on the fact of publication, but that^the court alone could determine whether the publication was a libel in law. The jury found the dean " Guilty of pub- lishing only,'''' a verdict which the judge refused to re- ceive ; after a long altercation it was altered to " Guilty of publishing, but whether a libel or not the juiy do not find." After a long series of arguments in the superior courts, judgment against the dean was an-ested, and further proceedings were abandoned. But the trial must ever be memorable, since it gave occasion to the declaratory act of the law of libel, by which juries were constituted judges equally of the fact and the law. In 1789 Mr. Erskine was engaged in the defence of Stockdale, a bookseller, accused of publishing a libel on LORD ERSKINE. 133 the House of Commons for having sanctioned the im- peachment of Warren Hastings. The speech which he delivered on this occasion is the finest specimen of forensic oratory to be found in our language. He ex- hibited consummate art in separating the defence of Stockdale from that of Hastings, and justifying the right to criticise the conduct of the managers of the trial with- out asserting that the criticism was merited. One ex- tract on the nature of the liberty of the press may be quoted : — " It is the nature of eveiything that is gi-eat and useful, both in the animate and inanimate world, to be wild and irregular, and we must be contented to take them with the alloys which belong to them, or live without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of criticism ; but its wanderings are sanctioned iby its ma- jesty and wisdom when it advances in its path : subject it to the critic, and you tame it into dulness. Mighty rivers break down their banks in the winter, sweeping away to death the flocks which are fattened on the soil that they fertilize in the summer ; the few may be saved by embankments from drowning, but the flock must perish from hunger. Tempests occasionally shake our dwellings and dissipate our commerce ; but they scourge before them the lazy elements, which, without them," would stagnate into pestilence. In like manner. Liberty herself, the last and best gift of God to his crea- tures, must be taken just as she is. You might pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape her into a perfect model of severe, scrupulous law, but she would then be Liberty no longer ; and you must be content to die under the lash of this inexorable justice which you had exchanged for the banners of Freedom." Stockdale was acquitted, and his trial is remarkable as being the last which took place for libel previous to the enacting of the Declaratory Act already described. In Parliament Mr. Erskine did not maintain the char- acter for eloquence which he had acquired at the bar. He was a zealous supporter of the Une of politics pur- sued by Mr. Fox, and hke that statesman, he was sti-ongly opposed to the war with France. A pamphlet which he published on the subject, went through theun- M 134 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. precedeuted number of forty-eight editions. His labors as a politician, however, did not increase his fame ; it was as an advocate for the many persons prosecuted by the government at the close of the last century, that he proved himself the most formidable opponent to Mr. Pitt's ministiy. His defence of the notorious Thomas Paine in 1792 was injurious to his influence ; at the close of his speech the jury found the defendant guilty without waiting for the attorney-general's reply, and Mr. Erskine was dismissed from his post of legal adviser to the Prince of Wales. The office was, however, re- stored to him in 1802, with some additional honors and emoluments. In the life of Lord Eldon we have given an account of the state ti'ials of 1794. The speech which Mr. Erskine delivered in favor of Hardy, the first of the prisoners placed on trial, was regarded by the accused themselves as the principal cause of their acquittal. He spoke while suffering under the pressure of severe ill- ness, but this did not damp his enthusiasm or weaken his abilities. Men of all parties acknowledged and ad- mired his zeal and talents, and no complaints were made of his conduct by the ministers whom he defeated. From this time he was considered the best advocate at the English bar, and continued to stand at the head of his profession, occasionally taking a share in parliamen- tary debate, until the death of Mr. Pitt in 1806 opened the path for Mr. Fox's accession to power, when he was raised to the peerage, and appointed Lord Chan- cellor. Lord Erskine's judicial career was brief, and did not add to his fame ; he was called to preside over a court, with the practice of which he was unacquainted, and the principles of which were very different from the common law, to which he had exclusively devoted his attention. He had the disadvantage of coming after Lord Eldon, who had spent nearly the whole of his pro- fessional existence in courts of equity, and whose exti-a- ordinary attainments were never questioned, even by those who arraigned the uses to which they were ap- plied. Whether the quickness and readiness for which Erskine w^as remarkable would have enabled him to LORD ERSKINE. 135 overcome these disadvantages, may be questioned ; no opportunity, however, was alibrded for a trial ; the min- istry, of which he formed a part, was dismissed early in 1807, and thenceforward he ceased to take an active part in public affairs. It is painful to follow this great man through the rest of his career. A partial loss of fortune, occasioned by an infelicitous purchase of land, and a great diminution of income from the cessation of his professional emolu- ments, subjected him to many embarrassments ; these were increased by an imprudent second marriage, at- tended by disgraceful circumstances, on which it is pain- ful to dwell. The only occasion on which he took an active part in politics was at the time of Queen Caroline's trial, when he supported the cause of that lady, but with less of enthusiasm than ability. Part of his leisure was employed in the composition of a political romance and some pamphlets, which did not tend to increase his repu- tation. He died November, 1823, of an inflammation of the chest. The talents of Lord Erskine were pecuharly those which constitute the accomplished advocate rather than the discriminating judge or the able statesman. His power of commanding at the instant all the powers of his mind, and his dexterity in applying these resources, were never exceeded at the English bar. These facul- ties, united with great spirit and courage, rendered him formidable on the defensive side of political prosecu- tions ; but his highest claim to the gratitude of posterity is, that several great constitutional principles, which had been keenly contested, were fixed on a firm and immu- table basis, chiefly through his exertions. CHARLES JAMES FOX. The biography of Charles James Fox is one fraught with lessons of deep importance to the young, for it shows that early indulgence in dissipation may cast a shadow over the whole of future life, which no talents can remove, and no subsequent success dispel. He was born in the Januaiy of 1749, and was the second son of the first Lord Holland, a statesman more distinguished for tact and cleverness than for either purity or consist- ency of principle. Charles was a favorite and a spoiled child ; the tales of Lord Holland's extravagance in grati- fying the whims and caprices of his beloved boy are equally numerous and ridiculous. He broke up a beau- tiful watch, because the child cried to see the works ; he caused a new wall to be blown up with gunpowder, because he had promised that Charles should witness the destruction of the old one. Evils have arisen from too great severity in education, but the opposite extreme of excessive indulgence is at least equally dangerous ; in the world, men must live under the dominion of law, and the best preparation for the observance of the laws of society is their ti-aining in submission to the authority of a parent. Two anecdotes are related which show that the system of unrestrained indulgence pursued by Lord Holland had an injurious effect on his son, even in early life. Lady Holland happening to make a casual remark on some event in Roman history, in which she stated the circumstances inaccurately, her son rudely contradicted her, and pointed out the nature of her en*or with a triumphant satisfaction, utterly unsuited to his CHARLES JAMES POX. 137 age and position. On another occasion he burned a very important dispatch which his father had just con- cluded, because he disapproved of some expressions it contained ; and Lord Holland, instead of reprimanding him, quietly prepared a second copy from the official draught. Such a system of education gave the boy that bold- ness and self-confidence which the father wished to de- velop ; but it made him impatient of control, and anxious to join prematurely in the indulgences of men. Even in this impropriety he received the sanction of his father. At the age of fourteen he accompanied his father to Spa, and was supplied with an allowance of five guineas per night, to be spent in games of hazard. The natural consequence was, that he acquired a passion for gaming which he was never able to subdue, and which, through the whole of his subsequent life, kept him in difficulties of the most galling nature. At Westminster School, and afterward at Eton, Fox distinguished himself by his great proficiency in classi- cal literature ; and when he entered Hertford College in Oxford, he soon became remarkable for his zeal in study, and for his extensive acquirements. Unfortu- nately, his dissipation was as gi-eat as his proficiency ; his time was unequally divided between honorable and vicious pursuits, the latter having the gi-eater sway. After a short residence at Oxford, he made a tour on the Continent, where his lavish prodigalities at length alarmed his indulgent father, who summoned him home, after he had not only spent his liberal allowance, but conti-acted debts of vast amount in every capital which he had visited. At Naples alone his liabilities are said to have amounted to sixteen thousand pounds. Lord Holland's great anxiety was that his son should become distinguished in political life. At this period the government of the country was virtually placed in the hands of a few powerful families, and a man of gi-eat talent, connected with any of these families, was almost sure of success as a statesman. George HI. had made several eflbrts to break down this power of " gi-eat fami- lies," and had not been wholly unsuccessful. He sought the aid of those families which had been neglected by M 2 138 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. his grandfather on account of their real or supposed at- tachment to the house of Stuart, and he thus gradually formed a party which soon changed the entire nature of English politics. Lord Holland had educated his son for a state of policy which had become antiquated when that son entered on political life ; and hence many of the young man's early steps were not only wrong in themselves, but difficult to be retrieved at a later period in public life. In 1768, though yet under age, Fox was elected to Parliament as member for Midhurst, and he commenced his career as a zealous supporter of Lord North's un- popular administration. At this time John Wilkes, after having been expelled from the House of Commons, had been elected member for Middlesex, and when the election was set aside, he was again returned without op- position. A third election took place ; the ministerial candidate, Colonel Luttrell, was left in a small minority, but the House of Commons voted that he ought to have been returned, and declared him the sitting member. This decision produced violent agitation in every part of the empire. Wilkes had been already engaged in a contest with the government as the publisher of a libel, but though harshly and illegally treated, he had not ob- tained much sympathy, because his private character was not such as could win respect ; but the setting aside of the votes of a majority of a constituency, and giving the contested seat to the candidate who had been in the minority, was very generally regarded as a flagi-ant vio- lation of the constitution. Fox defended with great spirit the conduct of the ministry and the House of Commons, in reference to the Middlesex election, and he thus incurred no small share of the ministerial un- popularity. In later years, and even now, by many historians, it is said that this conduct was utterly incon- sistent with the principles he then professed, and the conduct he subsequently pursued. Without entering into any controversy, we may remark that Fox, through- out the whole of his life, looked to the House of Com- mons as the gi-eat agency of the government of Great Britain, and was just as unwilling to have it controlled by the clamor of the people as by the power of the CHARLES JAMES FOX. 139 crown. Fox's services were rewarded by liis being ap- pointed one of the Lords of the Admiralty early in 1772. His tenure of office was brief; having been thwarted by the ministers in his efforts to obtain a repeal of the bill against clandestine marriages, he resigned with very marked ill-tempei*. At this time the emoluments of office were tempting to a person in his position ; it is re- corded that he lost no less than eleven thousand pounds at hazard, in one sitting, and that, immediately after- ward, he delivered a most brilliant speech on the ne- cessity of enforcing tests in the universities as safeguards of morality and religion. Lord Holland, however, did not approve the step taken by his favorite son : he open- ed negotiations with Lord North, and Fox joined the ministry in the higher office of a Commissioner of the Treasuiy ; the fond father, at the same time, paid his son's debts, though they amounted to the extraordinary sum of one hundred and forty thousand pounds. Lord North appears to have received Fox with reluctance, and only through fear of offending Lord Holland, whose personal influence was formidable, for very soon after that nobleman's death he deprived the young statesman of office, in a manner pointedly insulting and unnecessa- rily severe. Lord North and Mr. Fox had subsequently reason to lament that they had allowed personal and vindictive feelings to interfere with the courtesies of political life. Fox went into opposition at a moment peculiarly fa- vorable to his fame. He just escaped fi'oni the cabinet as the fatal measures for the employment of coercion toward America had been adopted, and he thus escaped from being committed to a line of policy, bad in itself and worse in its results. He joined Mr. Burke, more as a pupil and a follower, than as an associate ; united with him, he assailed his former associates with powers which they never suspected him to possess, and thenceforth, notwithstanding his youth, he began to be considered as the chief leader of the opposition. He firmly resisted the ministers during the long course of the American war, supporting all Burke's propositions for conciliating the colonies, and predicting that the violent methods pur- sued by the cabinet would only end in defeat and dis- 140 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. gi-ace. The war in America, whatever may be thought of its origin, was most miserably conducted ; scarcely one of the royal generals exhibited either the skill of a leader or the corn-age of a soldier. Under these cir- cumstances the provincials gi-adually acquired training, skill, and discipline, until they at length compelled a royal army under General Burgoyne to surrender to the American armies. This disaster occurred on the 17th of October, 1777. Fox, who had visited Paris in the preceding year, and entered into all the dissipations of that city, probably found an opportunity of discovering the secret feelings of the French court, and had, proba- bly, some private correspondence established with per- sons of influence. His follies and his extravagances would, in fact, have been recommendations in the court of Louis XV., which was one of unexampled profligacy, and the influence of which extended into the reign of his unfortunate successor. There is no doubt that, from the very beginning of the American war, the French court had felt a deep interest in the contest, and secretly wished for the disgrace of Great Britain, by which France had been humbled in the previous war ; but the state of the finances and the memory of former defeats prevented any active demonstration, until Burgoyne's disaster seemed to present a favorable opportunity for interference. It has not been explained how Fox obtained early informa- tion of the intention of the French to become allies of the Americans, but there is rro doubt that he derived this knowledge from peculiar sources, and produced it at a moment when it was little expected. On the 17th of February, 1778, Lord North intro- duced two bills for the conciliation of the revolted colo- nies, which had, some months before, declared them- selves independent states, and in the speech which he delivered on the occasion, abandoned the arguments by which he had supported his measures of coercion. Fox, after having sarcastically congratulated the minister on becoming a late convert to the arguments of Burke, af- firmed that the plan of conciliation came too late, for that a treaty of alliance had been concluded between France and America, which, of course, rendered the proposed plan of pacification uttei-ly useless. After be- CHARLES JAMES POX. 141 ing very hard pressed, Lord North was forced to admit that he had heard of such a treaty being in agitation, but that he had no authority to say it was signed. The publication of the treaty within a few days proved Fox's accuracy, and exposed the ministry to much animadver- sion for the lateness of its information. The French having proclaimed war, an Enghsh fleet, under Admirals Keppel and Palliser, was speedily equip- ped to guard the channel ; it soon encountered a French fleet under Oi-villiers, and an indecisive engagement fol- lowed. Greater success had been generally expected ; the failure was attributed to Palliler, a zealous supporter of the ministry, and, therefore, pohtically opposed to Keppel, who had been taken from the ranks of opposi- tion. In consequence of the debates on this subject, both admirals demanded, and obtained, courts martial; Keppel was triumphantly acquitted, Palliser escaped with a slight and inadequate censure. Fox took advan- tage of these circumstances to renew his attacks on the administration, and particularly on the admiralty. This greatly increased his popularity with the nation, for the English have always been jealously alive to the fame and superiority of their navy. The parliamentaiy debates began from this time to increase in violence. At the close of the session of 1779, Mr. Fox so severely attack- ed Mr. Adam, a Scotch gentleman, that a duel ensued, in which Mr. Fox was slightly wounded. Soon after- ward, another duel was fought between the Earl of Shelburne and Mr. FuUarton ; but these barbarous ap- peals to arms were justly condemned in both houses of Parliament, and viewed with proper dislike by the great body of the people. The American war had at first been popular; the separation of the colonies from the parent state had been viewed not so much as a revolt against the government, as a rebellion against the people of England ; but the miserable way in which the war was conducted, the nu- merous reverses which tarnished the character of the English army, and the obvious incapacity of the ministry, began to alarm the country, and numerous petitions were presented, demanding a change in the government. On the 6th of April, 1780, Mr. Fox, supported by the 142 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Dukes of Devonshire and Portland, presided at a gi'eat public meeting in Westminster, where the policy of the cabinet was harshly condemned. The following night, Mr. Dunning moved his celebrated proposition in the House of Commons, " That the influence of the crown had increased, was increasing, and ought to be dimin- ished ;" tliis resolution was carried against ministers by a majority of 233 against 215. Fox followed up this success, by moving several other resolutions equally stringent, all of which were adopted. At this crisis the house adjourned for ten days in consequence of the ill- ness of the speaker, Sir Fletcher Norton : ministers made such good use of the respite, that when the house again met, Dunning's motion for an address to give ef- fect to the late resolutions, was rejected by a majority of fifty-one. Fox gave vent to his disappointment in one of the most bitter invectives ever delivered within the walls of Parliament ; he reproached those who had so recently changed sides, with servility, ti'eachery, and dishonor, and plainly declared that they had sold them- selves and their country. This was not a course hkely to conciliate the waverers, and the ministers presei-ved their majority to the end of the session. On the dissolution of Parliament, in 1780, Fox offbred himself a candidate for the city of Westminster, and, after a severe contest with Lord Lincoln, was returned by a large majority. Though now httle more than thirty years of age, he had attained unexampled popu- larity, but unfortunately his dissipation was as noto- rious as his talents. Though he had inherited from his father an income of 4,000L, and had subsequently suc- ceeded to the Clerkship of the Pells in Ireland, worth about 3,000L a-year more, he had squandered all the money at his command, and all that he could raise by the most ruinous expedients, so that he frequently wanted the means of defraying his daily expenses. This had a very injurious effect on his political in- fluence ; men of sober minds too frequently regarded him as a political adventurer, eager to seize the emolu- ments of office at any risk in order to mend his broken fortunes. It must be confessed that however natural this suspicion may have been, it was altogether unjust ; CHARLES JAMES FOX. 143 Fox was far from being venal ; indeed, his chief errors arose from his insensibility to the value of money, the natural result of his father's unwise indulgence. When Parliament had assembled on the 27th of December, 1781, intelligence had just been received of the surrender of the British army under Cornwallis, to the united forces of the French and Americans. For this disaster the ministers were most bitterly assailed by Fox, who was eagerly supported by Burke, and by Mr. William Pitt, second son of the Earl of Chatham, who had just entered Parliament, and j-oined the ranks of opposition. Under the continued attacks of these assailants, to which additional strength was given by the disastrous conduct of the war, the cabinet was rudely shaken, and the ministerial majorities in Parliament showed symptoms of rapid decline. On the 24th of February, General Conway's motion for putting an end to the American war was rejected only by a majority of one ; and when it was renewed in another shape oa the 27th, it was carried by a majority of fifteen. The ministerial sti'uggle was, however, prolonged to the 20th of March, when Lord Noith rather unexpectedly informed the House that his administration was at an end. Lord North's unfortunate administration occupies too important a share in English history to be lightly dis- missed ; his lordship had taken the office of premier at the personal request of the king, when a combination of parties threatened to deprive the sovereign of any choice in the appointment of ministers. He was thus placed at the head of an administration, framed in opposition to the system of government which had prevailed in England from the accession of the House of Hanover ; a system in which, for the first time, the personal influence of the sovereign had preponderating influence in the cabinet. George IH. had sti-ong pas- sions ; his dislike of Wilkes, who had personally in- sulted him, and his determination to compel the American colonies to submit at discretion, were feel- ings which he fondly cherished, and which he forced on his ministers, who often were anxious to try measures of mildness and conciliation. Lord North, who was 144 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. fondly attached to the king, adopted a course of policy which his better jsidgment condemned, and when he found that his compliance was likely to bring loss and disgrace upon the countiy, he sti'enuously and re- peatedly sought permission to retire into private life. So far from seeking to retain office in defiance of the country — a charge frequently brought against him, he was only kept in place by the earnest request of the king, who dreaded that a change of ministry would compel him to employ the Rockingham party, whom he thoroughly disliked both collectively and individually. Fox was especially odious to George III., and at no period of his life was the statesman able to overcome the prepossessions formed against him. Fox's extrava- gance and dissipation will only partially account for this hostility ; other circumstances, not wholly explained, made the king regard the necessity of employing Fox as one of the gi'eatest calamities which could befall royalty. When Lord North resigned, the opposition was divided into two great parties : the one headed by the Marquis of Rockingham, to which Fox belonged ; and the other guided by the Earl of Shelburne, in which the younger Pitt already acted a conspicuous part. As neither party had sufficient strength of itself to form an administi'ation, a cabinet was formed consisting of five members from each, the eleventh member being Lord Thurlow, who had been retained in the office of chan- cellor, which he had held under the former administra- tion at the personal request of the sovereign. When the new ministry was formed (March 28, 1782) Pitt was oifered the subordinate post of a Commissioner of the Treasury, which he very indignantly refused ; and unquestionably, under all circumstances, he was entitled to a more influential position. Fox became Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and was generally supposed to have paramount influence in the cabinet. Few ad- ministrations effected so many useful changes in so short a time as that which the Marquis of Rockingham presided over. Burke's system of economic reform was established, though not in its full extent ; officers of the customs and excise were disoualified from voting CHARLES JAMES FOX. 145 at elections ; government contractors were excluded from the House of Commons ; the discontents of Ire- land were appeased ; and the first steps taken to effect a reconciliation with America. In all these measures Fox took a leading part, but he gave some offence by- discountenancing, rather than opposing, Wilkes's suc- cessful motion to rescind all the unpopular proceedings relating to the Middlesex election. The death of the Marquis of Rockingham put an end to the administration ; the king appointed the Earl of Shelburne premier, upon which Fox, Burke, Caven- dish, and Townshend resigned their offices. Lord Shelburne, not disheartened by this defection, at once filled up the vacancies, and selected William Pitt to be his Chancellor of the Exchequer. It seems probable that the brilliant victory which Rodney had recently gained over the French fleet in the West Indies, had led Lord Shelburne to speculate on the chances of con- tinuing the war, and perhaps of bringing the American colonies into a state of qualified dependence; his opinions on this subject were changed soon after the retirement of Fox, and prehminaries of peace were signed at Paris on the 30th of November, 1782, by which England recognized the complete independence of the United States of America. Lord Shelburne believed that this peace would be received with great satisfaction by the nation; when Parliament met in December, the announcement that the independence of America had been recognized, formed a leading topic in the royal speech, and pro- voked far less comment than might have been reason- ably expected. The premier was thus encouraged to pursue the good work he had commenced, and on the 20th of January, 1783, the preliminaries of a general peace were signed at Paris. But when Parliament assembled after the Christmas holidays, the ministers found themselves exposed to the unexpected and violent attacks of forces which they had no means of effectually resisting. Fox had entered into a coalition with his former rival and gi-eat political enemy. Lord North ; and this union gave them a de- cided majority in the House of Commons, though it 10 N 146 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. destroyed their popularity in the country. It was im- possible to forget that Fox had recently described Lord North as the gi-eat criminal of the state, whose blood ought to expiate the calamities which he had brought on the country, and had described him as an equal compound of weakness and of wickedness. Yet he had now entered into a coalition to force this very man into office as a minister, and had selected him before the world as a colleague. It is not necessary to enter into any examination of the arguments by which this coalition was attacked and defended, but it may not be amiss to glance at the cir- cumstances by which it may be explained. And here it is but just to say, that those* who have imputed the transaction to Fox's desire for the emoluments of office, have done gi-eat injustice to his character. It is ti'ue that his pecuniary necessities were urgent and pressing, for he had recently sold his Clerkship of the Pells for a very inadequate sum ; but if money had been his object, he would have remained in office' under the Earl of Shelburne, who would gladly have purchased his sup- port by the most lucrative office in the gift of the crown. Fox sought power, not money ; and as he knew him- self to be personally obnoxious to the king, he sought, by his alliance with Lord North, to secure himself such an amount of parliamentary support as would render him independent of the sovereign. The Earl of Shelburne having been outvoted by the coalition on the 24th January, when the preliminaries of the peace, which he had concluded, w^ere condemned by a majority of the House of Commons, resigned his office. His subordinates, however, held their places, and the ministerial straggle was protracted to the be- ginning of April, through the king's reluctance to have Fox and Lord North forced 'upon him as ministers. The coalition finally trium])hed, and a new administra- tion was formed, with the Duke of Portland as its nom- inal premier; but no pains were taken to conceal the dislike with which they were viewed at court, and no doubt could be entertained that the coalition was thoroughly detested by the coiintry. The remainder of the session passed heavily over, and Fox saw that he CHARLES JAMES FOX. 147 could only remain in office by adopting some great measure, which would give him strength in Parliament and character in the country. When Parliament reassembled on the 11th of No- vember, Fox introduced his celebrated India Bill, a gigantic measure, but designed to redress gigantic abuses. It is very probable that at least the outlines of the plan had been ti-aced by Burke. It proposed to transfer the civil government of India to a board of seven directors, appointed in the first instance by Parliament, but afterward by the crown : while to nine directors, chosen by the proprietors of East India stock, the regulation of the territorial possessions and commercial affairs of the Company was to be committed. The measure passed through the lower house with triumphant majorities ; but, while it was in progi-ess, Lord Thurlow, whom Fox had excluded from office, found an opportunity of persuading the king that the mighty influence derived from the patronage of India would render ministers independent of the crown, and reduce the king to a mere cipher in the cabinet. There was some truth, though perhaps more malice, in these representations, and they induced his majesty to adopt a course of very questionable prudence or rectitude. Just before the commencement of the debate on the second reading in the House of Lords, the king, at a private audience, gave Earl Temple a note, written with his own hand, stating, in substance, " That his majesty would deem those who voted for the bill, not only not his friends, but personally his enemies ; and that if Lord Temple could put this in still stronger words, he was at liberty to do so." The consequence was, that the bill was rejected in the Lords by a ma- jority of nineteen, and the ministry was virtually at an end. Late in the same night, a messenger was sent to Mr. Fox and Lord North for their seals of office,- — an unusual circumstance, betraying a little too much of petulance and passion. Fox, who kept late hours, im- mediately complied ; but Lord North was in his bed, and asleep ; when roused up, he could not find the seals, which he had intrusted to the care of his son and private secretary. Colonel North. Some time was lost 148 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. in making the search, and morning was advanced before these symbols of office were sent to the king, who transferred them to Earl Temple. A new administration was formed, with the youthful Pitt as first Lord of the Treasuiy, and Chancellor of the Exchequer. A violent parliamentary contest en- sued, in which Pitt struggled onward, in spite of the majorities which his opponents commanded ; but this period will be better developed in the hfe of Pitt; to which we refer our readers. Here it must suffice to say, that Fox found his majorities gradually diminishing, and his unpopularity out of doors increasing in a still greater proportion. At length, on the 24th of March, the king dissolved the Parliament ; and at the ensuing election one hundred and sixty supporters of the coali- tion were displaced by the constituencies. Fox's polit- ical supremacy was at an end, and the power of his rival, Pitt, firmly established. Mr. Fox's own return from Westminster was pow- erfully contested by Lord Hood and Sir Cecil Wray, who had formed a coalition against him. The poll was kept open for forty-seven days : and his final success was atti'ibuted to the efforts made by the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, and other ladies of rank, to obtain votes in his favor. Though elected, he was not allowed to take his seat ; the high bailiflt' having refused to make a return, as a scrutiny was demanded by the unsuccessful candidate. Fox, however, entered Parlia- ment as a member for a Scotch borough, and he ob- tained a verdict for a thousand pounds against the high bailiflf of Westminster. The share which Fox took in the impeachment of Warren Hastings has been already noticed in the life of Burke ; this was for some time the principal object of public attention, and as Fox felt but slight interest in the matter, he passed several months in comparative retirement. In 1787 he supported a motion for a repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts with great fervor, and with more than his usual ability : the measure was re- jected ; but Fox's exertions on the occasion restored to him a great share of his former popularity, and in the beginning of 1788 he was elected Recorder of Bridge- CHARLES JAMES FOX. 149 water. In the course of the summer he made a tour on the Continent, accompanied by a lady, to whom he was privately married. The respect with which he was everywhere received induced him to extend his travels ; but, on his way to Rome, he was overtaken by a messenger, who brought him an account of the king's insanity, and of the probable difficulties which would arise in settling the question of a regency. He re- turned home with such fatiguing rapidity, that his health suffered severely ; but he soon recovered suffi- ciently to take an active share in the important discus- sions before Parliament. Mr. Pitt, while he recognized the claims of the Prince of Wales to the regency, insisted that Parlia- ment had a right to impose constitutional limitations on his exercise of royal power : Fox, united by the ties of personal friendship with the heir apparent, was equally strenuous for placing the regency in his hands without any restriction whatever. A large majority in Parlia- ment, and the great body of the nation out of doors, supported Mr. Pitt's views ; but the sudden recovery of the king put an end to the discussion. In this struggle Mr. Fox lost much of his popularity ; but he soon re- gained it by being mainly instrumental in preventing a war with Russia, by enlarging the powers of juries in cases of libel, and by several other popular measures which were indebted for their success to his advocacy. The breaking out of the French revolution produced a powerful effect on the state of parties in England. In the life of Burke we have mentioned, that difference of opinion on this great subject completely dissevered the friendship between that gentleman and Mr. Fox ; the latter bitterly mourned the rupture, and was anxious to do anything to effect a reconciliation except sacrifice his principles, and with nothing short of such a sacrifice would Burke be satisfied. A large and influential portion of the opposition, em- bracing Burke's view of the French revolution, went over to Mr. Pitt and zealously supported his warlike policy ; Fox and his diminished band still struggled for " reform, retrenchment, and peace," though they found little support within the walls of Parliament and less N-2 150 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. sympathy outside. In 1793, a number of noblemen and gentlemen subscribed large sums to purchase an annuity for their leader, whose pecuniary distresses were discreditable to their party. It was honorable to them to take such a course, but it is much to be regret- ted that dissipation had rendered such assistance neces- sary. Fox's opposition to the minister and the war never relaxed ; he seemed to regard the French as contending for hberty against the old despotisms of the Continent, and with these feelings he proposed as a toast at a meeting of the Whig Club, "the sovereign majesty of the people." This was so offensive to the king, that he erased Fox's name from the list of privy counselors with his own hand. Finding all his motions rejected by large majorities, he gradually withdrew from public life, but in 1800 he was called from his retirement by the prospects of a possible peace. He warmly opposed Pitt's measure for a union with Ireland, an error which he subsequently regretted, and with gi-eater wisdom he gave Addington (afterward Lord Sidmouth) his zealous support in concluding the treaty of Amiens. Dm-ing the short intei-val of peace Mr. Fox visited France and was received at Paris with gi-eat enthusiasm. He had an interview with Bonaparte, then First Consul, who complimented him as the consistent advocate of peace, the best friend of his country, the benefactor of Europe and general humanity. Exaggei'ated as this praise appears, there is no reason to doubt Napoleon's sincerity ; to the last hour of his life he declared his belief that if the life of Mr. Fox had been spared, many of the calamities of the long war between England and France would have been averted. Soon after Mr. Fox's return to England hostilities were renewed. As he disapproved of the war he seclu- ded himself in his country residence at St. Anne's Hill ; but when the Addington administration was falling to pieces from its internal weakness, he again appeared in public, and hopes were entertained of forming a ministry in which both he and his gi'eat rival Pitt should be in- cluded. We shall have occasion to recur to this crisis Avhen wi'iting Mr. Pitt's life ; here we need only say CHARLES JAMES FOX. 151 that the king's reluctance to receive Fox could not be overcome, and that the Grenvilles, doubting Pitt's sin- cerity, formed a coalition with the excluded party. While these affairs occupied the political circles. Fox took an active part in the impeachment of Lord Mel- ville, and most eloquently supported the petition of the Irish Parliament praying for emancipation. On the death of Mr. Pitt in January, 1806, Mr. Fox once more resumed office as Secretary for Foreign Af- fairs, under Lord Grenville as premier. One of his earliest measures w^as to obtain the condemnation of the slave trade from both houses of Parliament. But the great object of his wishes, the restoration of peace with- out any disgraceful concessions to French ambition, ap-. peared to be unattainable. This disappointment, the fierce opposition he had to encounter in Parliament, and the difficulties arising from the divisions in the cabinet, proved too much for a frame long enfeebled by late hours and dissipation. He died at Chiswick on the 13tli of September, 1806, and was buried at the expense of his friends in Westminster Abbey, close to the remains of his illustrious rival. Beloved as a man, admired as an orator, and sup- ported by a powerful party as a statesman, Fox must have taken the foremost place in the conduct of public affairs, had not his early indiscretions exposed him to the censure of the virtuous, and the pecuniary embar- rassments which they occasioned led to unfair suspicions of the purity of his motives. As an author, he only produced a fragment of a History of James II., quite unworthy of his fame. Want of prudence was his gi-eat failing ; it led him, early in life, to throw away, with reckless prodigality, that independence which would have given stability to his political position, both in his own estimation and in the opinion of his countiymen. Wanting this, he was often regarded as the slave of the party which professed to recognize him as leader, and he was forced to look for that support from coalitions and compliances which he might have won from the unbought approbation of his countiymen. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Though eminent qualities are generally necessary to the acquisition of permanent fame, the life of Franklin affords signal proof that moderate talents judiciously di- rected, when aided by industry and perseverance, will enable a man to render signal services to his country and his kind, and give him a claim to the homage of posterity. He was the fifteenth child of a tallow-chand- ler in Boston, where he was born January 17th, 1706. His father at first intended to educate him for the church, but finding that the expense was likely to ex- ceed his means, he took the boy home after he had ac- quired little more than the elements of learning, to assist him in his own trade. The boy greatly disliked the nature of the employment, and was very anxious to become a sailor : fortunately for him his friends con- trolled his inclinations ; instead of going to sea he was apprenticed to his eldest brother, James, who was a printer. Franklin recoirds, in his Memoirs, that though he had only at this time entered his twelfth year, he paid so much attention to his business, that he soon became proficient in all its details, and, by the quickness with which he executed his work, obtained a little leisure, which he devoted to study. His studious habits were noticed by a gentleman named Adams, who had a large collection of books, which he placed at the disposal of Franklin ; among these were some volumes of poetry, which fired his emulation, and he began to compose little pieces in verse. Two of these were printed by his brother and sold as street-ballads, but BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 153 they were, as he informs us, wretched doggi-el, and the ridicule thrown on them by his father deterred him from similar attempts. But, though he laid aside poetiy, h© did not abandon his ambition to become a good Eng- lish writer ; he studied the art of composition with great labor, being rewai'ded by the consciousness of improve- ment. Franklin's self-denial and power of control over his appetites were not less remarkable than his industry. Having, at the age of sixteen^ read a work which recom- mended vegetable diet, he determined to adopt the sys- tem, and undertook to provide for himself upon his broth- er's allowing him one-half of the ordinary expenses of board. On this pittance he not only supported him- self, but contrived, by great abstemiousness, to save a portion of it, which he devoted to the purchase of books. He soon had an opportunity of testing his literary pro- gress ; in 1720 his brother commenced the publication of a newspaper, the second which had appeared in America, called the " New England Courant." This paper, at a time when periodicals were rare, attracted most of the literary men of Boston to the house of the proprietor ; their conversation, and particularly their re- marks on the authorship of the various articles contrib- uted to the paper, revived Franklin's literary ambition : he sent some communications to the journal in a feigned hand ; they were inserted, and he tells us that "he had the exquisite pleasure to find that they met with appro- bation, and that, in the various conjectures respecting the author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country for talents and genius." He was thus encouraged to reveal his secret to his broth- er, but he did not obtain the respect and fraternal in- dulgence which he had anticipated. James Franklin was a man of violent temper ; he treated Benjamin with gi-eat harshness, and often proceeded to the extremity of blows. An article which appeared in the Courant, having given offence to the authorities, James was thrown into prison for a month, and the management of the paper devolved on Benjamin. He conducted it with great spirit, but with questionable prudence, for he made it 154 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the vehicle of sharp attacks on the principal persons in the colony. This gave such offence, that when James was liberated ft*om prison, an arbitrary order was issued that he should no longer print the paper called the " New England Courant." To evade this order, it was arranged that Benjamin's indentures should be canceled, in order that the paper might be published in his name, but at the same time a secret contract was made be- tween the parties, by which James was entitled to his brother's services during the unexpired period of ap- prenticeship. A fresh quarrel, however, soon arose, and Benjamin separated from his brother, taking what he has confessed to be an unfair advantage of the cir- cumstance that the contract could not be safely brought forward. The circumstance produced an unfavorable impres- sion on the minds of the printers in Boston, and Frank- lin, finding it impossible to obtain employment in his native town, resolved to seek it in New-York. Aware that his father would be opposed to this measure, he was compelled to sell his books to raise money for de- fraying the expenses of his journey. America was at this time very thinly inhabited ; there were no public conveyances on the roads, the inns were few, and their ajccommodations miserable ; but Franklin had accus- tomed himself to hard fare, and he did not allow the inconvenience he endured to interfere with his enjoy- ment of new scenery. On reaching New- York he found that the printers there had no occasion for his services, and he was recommended to continue his jour- ney to Philadelphia. His chief annoyance on the road arose from the inquisitiveness which has always formed a leading trait in the character of the Americans. To put an end to this plague, he took care to give a concise account of his history at every place where he stopped, so humorously worded as to convey an oblique censure on impertinent curiosity, and he found that this contriv- ance put an end to all further inquiry. The account which he gives of his first arrival in Phil- adelphia is very curious and interesting : — "I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come from New-York by sea. I was covered with BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 155 dirt, my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings ; I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with walk- ing and rowing, and having passed the night without sleep, I was extremely hungiy, and all my money con- sisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling's-worth of coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. At first they refused it on account of my having rowed ; but I insisted on their taking it. Man is sometimes more generous when he has little money than when he has plenty, perhaps to prevent its being thought that he has but little. I walked toward the top of the street, gazing alout till near Market-street, where I met a boy with bread. I had often made a meal of dry bread, and inquiring where he had bought it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to. I asked for biscuits, meaning such as we had at Boston : that sort, it seems, was not made in Philadelphia. I then asked for a three- penny loaf, and was told they had none. Not knowing the different prices, nor the names of the different sorts of bread, I told him to give me three-pennyworth of any sort. He gave me accordingly three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it, and having no room in my pockets walked off with a roll under each arm and eating the other. Thus I went up Market- street as far as South-street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father, when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chesnut-street, and part of Wal- nut-street, eating my roll all the way ; and, coming round, found myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the river water, and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go further. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the sti-eet, which by this time had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile and hearing nothing 156 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. said, being very drowsy through labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up, when some one was kind enough to rouse me. This, therefore, was the first house I was in or slept in in Philadelphia. ^' Having obtained employment from a printer named Keimer, Franklin continued to devote his leisure hours to literature. The respectability of his appearance and the superior tone of his conversation began soon to be remarked ; they led to his being introduced to several eminent men, and particularly to Sir William Keith, the Governor of Pennsylvania, who frequently invited him to his table. Keith urged Franklin to commence busi- ness on his own account, and, when the young man had ineffectually applied for assistance to his father in Bos- ton, he advised him to go to London and form a connec- tion with some of the great publishing houses, promising him letters of credit and recommendation. Franklin sailed for London, but the promised letters were never sent, and he found himself, on his arrival in England, thrown entirely on his own resources. Having soon obtained employment, he exhibited to his fellow-workmen an edifying example of industry and temperance, by which many of them profited. He also pubfished a little work of a skeptical tendency, which procured him introductions to some eminent men, but which he afterwards lamented as one of the greatest errors of his life. After remaining about eighteen months in England, he returned to Philadelphia as a clerk to Mr. Denham, and, on the death of that gentleman, went back once more to his old employer, Keimer. About this time he established a debating society, or club of persons of his own age, for the discussion of subjects connected with morals, politics, and natural philosophy. These discussions gradually assumed political importance, and had a great effect in stimulating the public mind during the war of independence. Having quarreled with Keimer, Franklin entered into partnership with a young man named Meredith, and commenced publishing a paper in opposition to one which had been started by his former employer. Mere- dith proving negligent of business, Franklin was enabled BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 157 by his friends to dissolve the partnership, and to take the entire business into his own hands. His steady adherence to habits of industry and economy had brought him comparative wealth ; he resolved to marry Miss Read, whose name has been mentioned in the account of his first arrival in Philadelphia, though she had, during his absence in England, been united to a man named Rogers, who abandoned her and fled to the West Indies. This marriage was very severely cen- sured, because it was far from being certain that the first husband was dead. In 1732 Franklin began the publication of "Poor Richard's Almanac," which soon became celebrated for its important lessons of practical morality. These were subsequently collected in a little volume, and are still highly esteemed both in England and America. His high character for probity and intelligence induced the citizens of Philadelphia to entrust him with the manage- ment of public aflfairs ; he was appointed clerk of the general assembly, postmaster and alderman, and was put by the governor into the commission of the peace. All the hours he could spare from business he now devoted to objects of local utility, and the city of Phila- delphia is indebted to him for some of its finest buildings and best institutions. When the war which raged between France and England had extended, in 1744, to their American colo- nies, Franklin took an active part in providing means for the defence of the country, and frustrating the plans of conquest which the French had formed. The Society of Friends, commonly called Quakers, having uniformly protested against the legality of war under any circum- stances, it was found difficult to obtain from the assembly, in which that body predominated, a supply of money for the purchase of military stores. A request for a quantity of gunpowder was peremptorily rejected, but a vote was passed, granting 2,0001. " for the purchase of wheat or other grain.'''' The governor declared that " other grain" meant gunpowder, and applied the money accordingly. Franklin suggested that an application should be made to the insurance companies, to aid in the purchase of fire-engines, which, by similar liberality O 158 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. of interpretation, might be held to include muskets and artillery. As his wealth increased he obtained leisure to devote himself to the study of philosophy, and to take a leading part in political life. We shall first look at his philosophical labors, by which his name first became known in England. His attention was drawn to the subject of electricity in 1746, by some experiments exhibited by Dr. Spence, who had come to Boston from Scotland. These isolated experiments were made with no regard to system, and led to no results. A glass tube, and some other ap- paratus that had been sent to Franklin by a friend in London, enabled him to repeat and verify these ex- periments. He soon began to devise new forms of investigation for himself, and at length made the great discovery which may be said to be the foundation of electi-ical science, that there is a positive and negative state of electricity. By this fact he explained the phe- nomenon of the Leyden phial, which at that time excited gi-eat attention in Europe, and had foiled the sagacity of its principal philosophers. In the course of his investigations he was led to suspect the identity of lightning and the electric fluid ; and he resolved to test this happy conjecture by a direct experiment. His apparatus was simply a paper-kite with a key attached to the tail. Having raised the kite during a thunder- storm, he watched the result with gi-eat anxiety ; after an intei-val of painful suspense, he saw the filaments of the string exhibit by their motion signs of electrical action ; he drew in the kite, and, presenting his knuc- kles to the key, received a sti'ong spark, which of course decided the success of the experiment. Repeated sparks were drawn from the key, a phial was charged, a shock given, and the identity of lightning with the electric fluid demonsti-ated beyond all possibility of doubt. Franklin had from time to time transmitted accounts of his electricr.l experiments to his friend, Mr. Collinson, in England, in order that they should be laid before the Council of the Royal Society ; but, as they were not published in the Transactions of that learned body, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 159 Collinson gave copies of the communications to Cave, for insertion in the " Gentleman's Magazine." Cave resolved to publish them in a separate form, and the work, soon after its appearance, became generally rec- ognized as the text book of electrical science. It was translated into French, German, and Latin; the author's experiments were repeated, and verified by the leading philosophers of France, Germany, and even Russia; the Royal Society atoned for its former tardiness by a hearty recognition of' their value, and Franklin was elected a member of their body without solicitation or expense. The universities of St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and Oxford subsequently conferred upon him the hon- orary title of Doctor of Laws. We must pass more briefly over Franklin's political career. In 1753 he was appointed Deputy Post-master of the American colonies. The post-office, which had previously supplied no revenue to the government, became very productive under his management, and yielded three times as much as the post-office in Ire- land. Nor was this the only service he rendered to the government. At the time of Braddock's unfortunate expedition against the French and Indians, he provided conveyances for the ti'oops and stores at his own risk ; he took a leading part in obtaining a militia bill, and he proposed a plan for the union of the several colonies in a common system of defence against the Indians. These measures greatly increased his influence and popularity ; but the measures were not wholly approved by the government, as they tended to raise in the colonies a feeling of independence. Pennsylvania was at this period a proprietary govern- ment, and the proprietary body claimed exemption from taxation. In consequence of the disputes to which these claims gave rise, he was sent to England by the General Assembly, as agent for the provinces. He per- formed his duties with such zeal and ability, that he was appointed agent for the provinces of Massachusetts, Georgia, and Maryland ; and, on his return to America in 1762, received not only the thanks of the House of Assembly, but a gi'ant of five thousand pounds. Pre- vious to his return he made a short visit to the con- 160 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tineht, and was everywhere received with great honor, especially at the court of Louis XV. In the year 1764, the American colonies, alarmed at the system of taxation with which they were menaced by the British, resolved that Franklin should be sent to England, no longer as an agent, but as the general rep- resentative of the states. In this character he arrived in liondon about forty years after his first appearance in that city as a distressed mechanic. His own mind was strongly impressed by the conti'ast ; he went to the printing-office where he had worked, introduced himself to the men employed there, and joined in a little festival in honor of printing. He officially presented to Mr. Grenville a petition against the Stamp Act, but, finding that the minister was not deterred from his purpose, he zealously exerted himself to organize an opposition to the measure. When it was proposed to repeal the bill in the following year, Franklin was ex- amined before the House of Commons : the effect of his evidence was decisive, and the Stamp Act was repealed. But, though this measure was withdrawn, the Eng- lish government did not abandon its schemes for obtain- ing revenue from America ; and the consequent disputes produced an increasing alienation between the parent country and the colonies, which Franklin long labored to avert. The government naturally believed him preju- diced in favor of his native land, and therefore paid less attention to his remonsti'ances than they merited ; still he might probably have been enabled to act the part of mediator, had not an act of questionable propriety placed him in such an attitude of hostility to the king and min- istry, that any reconciliation became impossible. The ministerial resolution of coercing America had been greatly strengthened by the representations of the colonial govehiors, who showed lamentable ignorance, both of the spirit and the resources of the people over whom they niled. Among those mistaken men, Hutch- inson and Oliver, the governor and deputy-governor of Massachusetts, held a conspicuous place. Their letters, urging the ministers to crush the resistance of the colo- nists, having been clandestinely abstracted from a public office, were placed in Franklin's hands ; he transmitted BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. IgJ them to America for publication, where their appear- ance threw the whole country into a flame. In England the excitement was almost equally violeut, and it re- qmred no small degice of self-possession to present to the ministry the indignant address of the assembly of Massachusetts, lounded on these documents. When the petition was debated before the Privy Council, FranUin was present Wedderbm-n, the solicitor-general, as- saded him with the most coarse and virulent invective, which the philosopher heard without movhig a muscle ot his countenance. An anecdote, however, is related on good authority vvhich proves that his calmness was simulated : when he returned to his lodgings, he took o-ff the court-dress he had worn, and vowed that he would never put it on again until he had obtained revenge. It was m this dress that, as plenipotentiary for the United fetates, he signed the treaty of independence, which for- evei- severed the American colonies from Great Britain ihe rejection of the petition from Massachusetts was lollowed by the removal of Franklin from the office of postmaster-general, and the commencement of a chan- ceiy suit against him respecting the letters. Attempts were at the same time made to win him over to the side of the government by ofl^rs of high honors and Hberal emoluments : but threats and promises were alike una- vailing to divert him from his course. He lingered in i^ngland, hoping that some turn in public affaii^s would avert the latal necessity of war ; but when the petition ot the American Congress was rejected, and Lord Chat- ham s plan of reconciliation outvoted, he resolved to retui-n home and share the fortunes of his countrymen. His departure was hastened by the intelligence that the ministers intended to arrest him on a charge of foment- ing rebellion in the colonies ; he narrowly escaped this danger, and on landing in America, he was elected a member of Congress. Soon after the declaration of independence was issued, JJr. JH ranklin was sent as ambassador to France, to so- 'S'J/'i °'' ^^'"^ "'^^"^ republic. On his first arrival, in 1776, he was not officially received ; but when the intel- hgence of the English losses had given courage to the J^ rench court, negotiations were formally commenced n o 2 162 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. and on February 7, 1778, he had the honor of signing the first treaty between the United States and a foreign power. He remained at the French court as ambassa- dor until the end of the war, when, as an American plenipotentiary, he signed the treaty of Paris, by which Great Britain recognized the independence of the Uni- ted States. At the close of the negotiations (November, 1782), he was anxious to be recalled ; but his diplomatic services were too highly valued to be spared, and he remained at Paris three years longer, during which period he negotiated treaties with Sweden and with Prussia. His residence in France w^as cheered by the enthusiasm with which he was regarded by all classes, particularly persons of hterature and science ; his de- parture from that city was lamented as a general loss to society. Honors of every kind awaited him on his return to his native land ; he was appointed President of the State of Pennsylvania, and a member of the Federal Conven- tion, by which the American Constitution was framed. But old age, and a painful disease, to which he had been long subject, compelled him to retire into the bosom of his family. Notwithstanding his sufferings, he preserved his affections and faculties unimpaired to the last, and died tranquilly, April 17th, 1790. The American Con- gress, and the National Assembly of France, went both into mourning on receiving the intelligence of his death. Franklin's powers were useful rather than brilliant ; his philosophical discoveries were the result of patience and perseverance ; with a warmer imagination, he would probably have been misled by speculative theory, like so many of his contemporaries. His industry and his temperance were the sources of his early success, and they nurtured in him the spirit of that independence which was the leading chai-acteristic of his private and public career. OLIVER GOLDSMITH. Among the writers of the last century, there are few whose works have been more extensively read, or more generally admn-ed, than those of Goldsmith ; and per- haps there is none whose writings are more inconsistent With the conduct and career of the man. He was one ot those who, having adopted literature as a profession, tound It the most toilsome and least profitable of all the avenues to fame and fortune, but still clung to it with a persevermg affection, which in any other pursuit would oiT "". ^on" "" r^^' ■'■^'^''^- H« ^^^« born November 29th, 1729, at the village of Pallas, in the county of Longford, m Ireland, where his father officiated as cler- gyman. Oliver was the second son, and as his father's income was scanty, he was originally intended for some mercantile employment. In childhood he was remark- ably shrewd and observant, exhibiting a natural turn for liumor, and a shrewd appreciation of character. He has affectionately and faithfully portrayed his father as the village pastor in the " Deserted Village ;" among other traits, he particularly mentions— " gis house vi^as known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; i he long-remember'd beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged chest." The vagrant beggars of Ireland were, and still to some extent are, a very peculiar race ; they are, in general, capital story-tellers, acquainted with the histories of all the tamihes in a neighborhood, great retailers of anec- 164 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. dotes, and able to display in their narratives a strange blending of fun and pathos. Oliver, no doubt, derived many of the peculiar characteristics of his lighter works from his early intercourse with these amusing vagrants ; and the impression they produced was strengthened by the master of the village school, from whom he learned the rudiments of his education. He, too, is sketched in the " Deseited Village," as the schoolmaster ; and the poet has not forgotten a characteristic trait of a class of Irish teachers, which has now disappeared, — " Full virell they laughed, with counterfeited glee. At all his jokes, for many a joke had he." This schoolmaster had been an old soldier, and his tales of adventure in foreign lands are supposed to have imparted to his pupil much of those wandering and un- settled habits for which he was remarkable through life. Oliver's friends soon discovered that he had an ardent taste for literature, and that his turn of mind was un- suited to the regularity of business ; they raised a sub- scription to defray the expenses of his education, and, after he had passed through the usual routine of classi- cal studies at school, he entered the University of Dub- lin, as a sizar, in 1744. Sizarships in Dublin were ob- tained by competition at a severe public examination, and Goldsmith must have studied very closely to obtain one of those places at the early age of fifteen. His tutor was the Rev. Mr. Wilder, who has been rather unfairly described as a man of harsh temper and violent passions. The truth is, that he had been very dissipated when an under-graduate, and had involved himself in serious diffi- culties by his extravagance ; on obtaining a fellowship, he became a very rigid disciplinarian, and was particu- larly skilful in detecting the evasions which he had often practiced himself. Goldsmith paid but slight attention to his academical studies ; he was idle, improvident, and negligent of dis- cipline. Hence he was continually at variance with his rigid tutor, who once struck him in the presence of a party of young friends of both sexes, whom Goldsmith had invited to a dance and supper in his rooms. There must, however, have been some other provocation ; the OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 165 entertainment could not have been given in Goldsmith's own apartments, wliich were in the garret of an old building recently pulled down. If Wilder lived out of college, as was then usual with many of the fellows, Goldsmith may probably have ventured to make use of his tutor's rooms without the ceremony of asking per- mission. This explanation was the tradition of Trinity College, and it is not inconsistent with the habits of the time and of the place. Oliver was deeply offended by this public insult ; he sold or pawned his books and clothes, quitted college and wandered about the countiy without prospects and with- out resources. Notwithstanding the proverbial hospi- tality of the Irish peasantry, he suffered such extremities of hunger that a handful of green peas, given him by a girl at a wake, appeared a luxurious meal : still this wandering life had such charms, that he persevered in vagrancy for several months before he made his family acquainted with his situation. Henry, his elder brother, a pious and respectable clergyman, came to his assist- ance, supplied him with clothes, reconciled him to his tutor, and enabled him to take his degree with some credit. His friends now pressed him to enter the church, but he refused, and became tutor in a private family, a situation of which he soon gi'ew weary. Once more he became a vagrant, but, after wandering about for six or seven weeks, he returned to his mother on a little horse named Fiddleback, which was not worth twenty shiUings. His account of his adventures was character- istic; he stated that he had gone to Cork on a good horse, which he had sold to pay his passage to America, but that the vessel in which he had taken his place had sailed while he was viewing the curiosities of the city, leaving him only as much money as sufficed to purchase Fiddleback, and reach the house of an old acquaintance on his road home. This nominal friend, however, re- ceived him coldly, and in order to evade giving him pecuniary relief, recommended him to sell Fiddleback, and purchase another steed which would cost him no- thing in food or provender. When Goldsmith asked for an explanation, he presented him with an oaken staff which he took from under the bed. Fortunately a geu- 166 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. erous stranger came in at this moment, and, on learning the circumstances, he gave Oliver a sum sufficient to take him home, without being compelled to part from his beloved Fiddleback. The Rev. Thomas Conterine, Goldsmith's uncle by- affinity, who always took a generous interest in his wel- fare, advanced him a sufficient sum to take him to Lon- don, and obtain his admission as a law student at the Temple ; but at Dublin he met with a sharper, who tempted him to the gaming table, so that he once more returned home without a penny. His friends forgave him again, and sent him to Edinburgh to study medicine. He reached this city in 1752, and remained there about two years, but he had no favorable recollections of his residence in Scotland ; he was thoughtless and he was cheated, he was poor and he was nearly stai"ved. At length having completed the usual courses of lectures, his generous uncle provided him with the means for fin- ishing his studies at Leyden. With the usual eccen- ti'icity that marked his movements. Goldsmith, to reach this city, took his passage in a vessel which was bound for Bordeaux ! After the vessel had sailed from Leith, she was forced by stress of weather to put into the mouth of the Tyne ; some Scotchmen having been found on board her who had been engaged in raising men for the service of the Pretender, all the passengers. Goldsmith included, were arrested and committed to the jail of Newcastle. His imprisonment lasted a fortnight, and during its continuance the vessel sailed without him. He was thus saved from premature death, for the ship was subsequently wi'ecked at the mouth of the Garonne, where all on board perished. At Leyden he was as thoughtless and improvident as he had been everywhere else ; his scanty stock of money was wasted at the gaming table, and he was left without a shilling. In this hopeless condition he com- menced a tour on foot through Europe, with one shirt in his pocket and a devout reliance on Providence. " My learning," he said, " procured me a favorable re- ception at most of the religious houses I visited, and whenever I approached a peasant's house I took out my flute and played one of my most merry tunes, and that OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 167 generally procured me not only a lodging, but subsist- ence for the next day ; this, however, was not the case with the rich, who generally despised both me and my music." It is much to be regretted that Goldsmith never published any account of his travels beyond a few hints in various parts of his works ; a tour performed in such singular circumstances, by so good a judge of hu- man nature, would have been one of the most entertain- ing books in the world. He probably received some assistance from home, as he stopped for six months to study at Padua, and took his medical degree at Louvain. The death of his generous uncle induced him to return to England. After a painful journey he reached Lon- don in a state of deplorable poverty, and made several vain efforts to obtain the situation of assistant to an apo- thecary. At length he became an assistant in a school at Peckham, a situation of great drudgery, which he has thus described : — " I was u}) early and late ; I was brow- beat by the master : hated for my ugly face by the mis- tress ; worried by the boys within ; and never permitted to stir out to seek civility abroad." From this degrada- tion he was rescued by his generous friend Dr. Sleigh, who supplied him with the means of setting up in his profession as a physician. Literature, about the same time, afforded him a more congenial resource ; he published some criticisms in the " Monthly Review," which procured him a permanent engagement from the proprietor. He produced also a weekly pamphlet, called " The Bee," an " Inquiry into the Present State of Learning in Europe," and he con- tributed several essays to the "Public Ledger," where his " Citizen of the World" appeared under the title of the " Chinese Letters." He was, however, often in distress, and it was under the pressure of necessity that he produced the most popular of his works, the " Vicar of Wakefield." The circumstances attending the sale of this work to its fortunate publisher, are too singular to be told in any other words than those of Doctor Johnson, as reported by his faithful chronicler, Bos- well : — " I received one morning a message from poor Gold- smith, that he was in great distress, and, as it was not ? 168 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a vio- lent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it and saw its merits, told the landlady I should soon return, and having gone to a book- seller (Mr. Newbery, of Saint Paul's Church-yard), sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his land- lady in a high tone for having used him so ill." Newbery, the purchaser of the Vicar of Wakefield, (was the,4bunder of the establishment at which this vol- ume is published,\and was one of the first to raise the character of juvenile literature. He was a man of worth as well as of wealth, and the frequent patron of distressed men of letters. When he completed the bargain, — which he probably entered into partly from compassion, and partly from deference to Johnson's judgment, he had so little confidence in the value of his purchase, that the " Vicar of Wakefield" remained in manuscript until the publication of the " Traveler" had established the ]-eputation of the author. This beautiful ])oem appear- ed in 1765, and immediately procured for Goldsmith the fame to which he had long aspired. He became ac- quainted with Burke, Reynolds, Cumberland, Garrick, Coleman, and the leading literary men of his age. Lord Nugent introduced him to the Earl of Northumberland, then Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland ; but the only favor that Goldsmith asked was the advancement of his broth- er in the Church. His own favorite project was to be employed by the government to examine the interior of Asia. " Of all men," said Dr. Johnson, " Goldsmith is the most unfit to go out on such an inquiry ; for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as we alread}^ possess, and, consequently, could not know what would be an acces- OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 169 sion to our present stock of mechanical knowledge. He would bring home a grinding-barrow, and think that he had furnished a wonderful improvement." Having laid aside his ti'aveling projects, Goldsmith devoted himself to literature with gi-eat earnestness, and produced several works on history and biography with surprising rapidity ; but though his labors were largely remunerated, his improvident habits and passion for gaming involved him in difficulties from which he was never completely extricated. In 1769 he published the "Deserted Village," one of the most popular poems in the English language, which greatly extended his reputation. He also pro- duced two comedies : "The Good-natured Man," which was but partially successful ; and "She stoops to Con- quer," the most successful that had for many years been produced on the stage. The leading incident of the piece was borrowed from a blunder of the author him- self, who, while traveling in Ireland, mistook a gentle- man's house for an inn. Sir W. Scott records his knowl- edge of a similar mistake, and a third instance occurred not many years ago in the south of Ireland. Though amiable in temper, and benevolent to all who needed his assistance. Goldsmith often exhibited traits of a jealous and irritable spirit. When annoyed by a lampoon which appeared in a newspaper, he attempted to inflict personal chastisement on the editor, but was overmatched and soundly beaten. His mortification was not a little increased by the sport which the incident aftbrded to the newspaper writers of the time. One of his last publications was " A History of the Earth and Animated Nature," in six volumes, a work of great beauty of style, abounding with excellent reflec- tions and illustrations, but having no pretensions to sci- entific accuracy. It was of this work that Dr. Johnson said " He is now writing a Natural History, and will make it as agreeable as a Persian tale." He had formed another project, which he had much at heart, a "Uni- versal Dictionary of the Arts and Sciences," to which all his friends had engaged to contribute. But the pe- riod of his labors was now near. He had for some time been subject to fits of the stranguiy, brought on by too P 170 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. severe application to sedentary labors ; and one of these attacks, aggravated by mental disti-ess, produced a fever. In spite of the remonstrances of his medical attendants, he took a large dose of James's Powders, which gi-eatly hastened his dissolution. He died on the 4th of April, 1774, and was privately interred in the Temple burial- ground ; but a monument to his memoiy was erected by subscription in Westminster Abbey, with a suitable inscription in Latin, written by Dr. Johnson. We have not disguised Goldsmith's failings as a man ; the errors of genius are full of solemn warning, for they show that the highest qualities of the mind cannot atone for moral obliquities. The folly of submitting to impo- sition may, however, be well balanced with the univer- sality of his benevolence ; and the wit which his wi'itings evince more than counterbalance his reputed deficien- cies in conversation, if these could be of consequence to present or future generations. "As a writer," says Dr. Johnson, " he was of the most distinguished class. AVhatever he composed, he did it better than any other man could. And whether we regard him as a poet, as a comic ^vl•iter, or as a historian, he was one of the first writers of his time, and will ever stand in the foremost class." HENRY GRATTAN. Henry Grattan, the most illustrious of Irish patri- ots, was born in Dublin, July 3rd, 1776. His father was recorder of the city of Dublin, and during several years the representative of that city in the Irish Par- liament. The elder Grattan was a zealous supporter of the system then pursued by the English Government in Ireland ; but his son's attention was early directed to the evils of that system by his uncle, Richard Marlay, who had served as colonel at the battle of Munden, and after retiring from the army had devoted himself to the social improvement of his native land. At school and college Henry Grattan was distinguished as a zealous and diligent student. After quitting the Dublin Uni- versity he came to London, and entered the Middle Temple, to qualify himself for the profession of the bar. He was fond of attending the debates in Parliament, and he became an enthusiastic admirer of the eloquence of Lord Chatham, who was then in the zenith of his glory. Early in life he lost both his parents : his father, dis- pleased by their difference in politics, alienated from him the paternal mansion, and his mother, to whom he was fondly attached, died so suddenly that she had not time to take the measures necessary for securing the re- version to a landed property which she intended to leave her son. Mr. Grattan returned to Ireland when the popular party was engaged in a fierce controversy with the lord-lieutenant. Lord Townsend. He immediately joined their ranks, ond contributed largely to the various 172 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. publications in which the conduct of the government was assaulted. When called lo the bar, the future statesman did not exhibit any great powers as a lawyer, but as a politician he had acquired such fame that Lord Charlemont, the eminent leader of the popular party, brought him into Parliament for the borough of Charle- mont. England was at this period involved in the American war, and there Avas reason to apprehend that if the grievances of Ireland remained unredressed, that countiy might follow the example of the revolted colo- nies, and make an appeal to arms. Grattan, and those with whom he acted, labored to convince the Parlia- ment of the magnitude of these gi'ievances, the justice of the demand for redress, and the danger of denial, or even delay. The restrictions imposed on the manu- factures and commerce of Ireland, for the supposed benefit of England, had reduced the country to the verge of bankruptcy. In 1779, when there was some reason to dread a French invasion, the government could only spare sixty troopers for the protection of the important town of Belfast, and the military defence ot other parts of the kingdom was equally inefficient. Under these circumstances, the citizens of Belfast formed armed associations for their own protection. Their example was rapidly imitated throughout the kingdom. The Voluj^teers formed a national army, self-armed and self-officered, while the government, though jealous and alarmed, made no attempt to inter- fere with their organization. An address for free trade, proposed by Mr. Grattan, was carried in the House ot Commons, and presented to the lord-lieutenant by the entire house. The streets were lined by the volunteers, commanded by the Duke of Leinster ; they presented arms to the speaker and the members as they passed, amid the plaudits of an immense multitude, as- sembled to w^itness so novel and interesting a spectacle. Encouraged by this success, Mr. Grattan resolved to sti-ike at what he considered the greatest gi-ievance of his countiy, the claim of the English Parliament to legislate for Ireland. After long and earnest consulta- tion with his friends, he moved the declaration of right on the 19lh of April, 1780, in the memorable words. HENRY GRATTAN. 173 " That the King's Most Excellent Majesty and the Lords and Commons of Ireland are the only powers com- petent to make laws to bind Ireland." The speech which he delivered on this occasion was always re- garded by himself as the greatest triumph of his elo- quence. Some idea of its fire and spirit maybe formed from the concluding paragraph, " I will not be answered by a public lie in the shape of an amendment ; neither, speaking for the subjects' freedom, am I to hear any- thing of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe in this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be the am- bition to break your chains and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the British chain clanking at his rags : he may be naked, he shall not be in iron ; and I do see the time is at hand, the spirit is gone forth, the declaration is planted ; and though gi'eat men should apostatize, yet the cause will five ; and though the public speaker should die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the organ which conveyed it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but survive him." After a long debate, the house adjourned without coming to any substantive resolution : but this neutral result was not unjustly regarded by the popular party as a triumph. But the government soon recovered its strength in Parliament ; a scale of sugar duties was carried, injurious to Irish trade, and a Mutiny Bill adopted, scarcely consistent with the principles of the constitution. Many of Grattan's associates began to despair, but he never faltered ; and the resolutions adopted by various bodies of volunteers, showed that the spirit of the people was unabated. Early in 1782 it was resolved, that delegates from the different volunteer as- sociations in Ulster should assemble at Dungannon, to deliberate on the state of public affairs. An assembly thus summoned without authority, to meet in arms, to debate and to resolve, was a perilous experiment, and had it not been ably directed might have led to much mischief. Through the prudence of the leaders. Lord Charlemontj Mr. Grattan, and Mr. Flood, the resolu- p2 174 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tions were confined to a constitutional statement of gi-ievances, and Mr. Grattan further succeeded in ob- taining a vote of the delegates in favor of conciliating the Catholics. The government and the volunteers seemed now about to be brought into direct collision, when, fortunately for the countiy, Lord North's admin- istration was dissolved, and the new cabinet formed in England, under the auspices of the Marquis of Rock- ingham, was prepared to tender such measures of con- ciliation as seemed best calculated to allay the dissatis- faction of the Irish people. On the 16th of April, 1782, a conciliatory message was sent to the Irish Parliament, and an address moved by Mr. Grattan, asserting the in- dependence of the Irish legislature, was unanimously adopted. The ministers did not shrink from the good work they had begun, and all the demands of the Irish patriots were virtually conceded. In the first burst of national joy, it was proposed to reward the services of Mr. Grattan by a gi'ant of one hundred thousand pounds, but at his own earnest wish the sum was reduced one half, and he actually received fifty thousand pounds as a tribute from his gi-ateful countiy. Discord soon appeared to trouble the happiness of the country. Mr. Flood insisted that it was not enough for England to repeal the laws asserting legislative su- premacy over Ireland, but that the principle should be expressly renounced ; while Mr. Grattan insisted that, under all the circumstances, simple repeal was sufficient. The unfortunate disputes to which this difference gave rise, have now lost all interest^ and, eloquent as were the invectives delivered on both sides, they may well be permitted to sink into oblivion. The volunteers, too, at this time, began to extend their views to parlia- mentary reform, and sent delegates to a Convention in Dublin, to prepare a plan for the more equal represen- tation of the Irish people. A bill for this purpose was oflfered to the House by Mr. Flood, and was supported by Mr. Grattan ; but it was rejected, on the plausible ground that it had originated in unauthorized dicta- tion. A crisis of commercial distress, in 1784, directed attention to the unsettled state of the trading relations HENRY GRATTAN. 175 between England and Ireland. Early in 1785, Mr. Secretary Orde introduced ten resolutions for placing them on a satisfactory footing. His propositions were adopted ; but when they were transmitted to England, they were greatly changed for tha worse, through a spirit of commercial jealousy, and, in their altered form, they encountered a fierce resistance in the Irish Par- liament. Mr. Grattan took the lead in the opposition, which proved successful, and the ministerial measure was abandoned. But this appearance of a conflict of interests between two nations, under the same sove- reign, seemed to show that circumstances might arise which would necessitate either a more perfect union, or a complete separation. About this time praedial disturbances became so fre- quent in the south of Ireland as to excite much alarm. The insurgents were commonly called Whiteboys, from their appearing at night with shirts over their clothes ; their objects were to raise wages, to prevent the eject- ment of tenants, to lower the amount of dues paid to the Catholic priests, and to resist the exactions of the tithe-proctors who collected tithes for the Protestant clergy. The attorney-general (Fitzgibbon) brought in a coercive measure to check these tumultuous risings, which Mr. Grattan, while acknowledging and lament- ing the necessity of coercion, resisted, on account of its inordinate severity. " Like the Draconian laws," he said, " the bill had blood ! blood ! — felony ! felony ! in every period and in every sentence." In consequence of this opposition, some of the most obnoxious clauses were omitted or modified ; but Mr. Grattan, believing that redress should accompany coercion, directed his energies to obtain such an amelioration of the law of tithes, as would obviate the just complaints of the peasantry. On this subject his ^-eatest efifort was made on the 14th of April, 1788, when he delivered a speech, which for varied power is unrivaled in the annals of eloquence. It is not easy to find a passage sufiticiently illustrative of the force of this unrivaled oration, and, at the same time, free from reference to topics which may excite the memory of angry contro- versies. But the following passage, in reply to the 176 MODERN BRITIFH PLUTARCH. and the least exceptionable : — " Yes ; but will you [innovate ?] Admit this argu- ment, and Ave sit here to consecrate abuses. The statutes of mortmain were innovations, the suppression of monasteries innovations, the Reformation innovation ; for, what is the Protestant religion but the interposition of Parhament rescuing Christianity from the abuses in- ti'oduced by its own priesthood ? " Institutions, divine and human, corrupt by their nature or by ours ; the best human institution, the British constitution, did so coiTupt, that at different periods it was anarchy, oligarchy, despotism ; and was restored by Parliament. " The only divine institution we know of, the Chris- tian religion, did so corrupt as to have become an abomination, and was rescued by Act of Parliament. " Life, like establishments, declines ; disease is the lot of nature ; we oppose its progress by sti-ong reme- dies ; we drink of a fresh life at some medicinal foun- tain, or we find a specific in some salubrious herb ; will you call these restoratives innovations on the physical economy ? Why, then, in the political economy, those statutes which purge the public weal, and, from time to time, guard that infirm animal, man, against the evils to which civil society is exposed — the encroachments of the priest and the politician ? " It is founded, then, on a false surmise of our nature, this objection ; we live by a succession of amendment ; such is the history of man, such, above all, is the histoiy of religion, where amendment was ever opposed ; and those cant expressions, ' the supporting Church and State,' were ever advanced to continue the abuses of both. On those occasions, prejudices from the ragged battlement of superstition ever screened innovation. When om- Elizabeth estabUshed the Protestant religion, she was called an innovatress. When Luther began the Reformation, he was called an innovator ; nay, when Herod and the high-priest Caiaphas (and high-priests of all religions are the same), heard that one had gone forth into the multitude preaching, gathering the poor like the hen under her wing, saying to the rich, Give HENRY GRATTAN. 177 unto the poor and look for ti-easures in heaven, and take heed that your hearts be not overcharged with luxury, surfeit, and the eases of this life ; — I say, when Herod and the high-priest saw the Author of the Christian religion thus giving comfort, and countenance, and hope to the poor, they were astonished, and felt, in his rebuke of their own pomp and pride, and gluttony and beastli- ness, great innovation ; they saw in the extent of his public care gi'eat innovation ; and, accordingly, they conspired against their Savior as an innovator, and, under the pretence of supporting what they called the Church and State, they stigmatized the redemption of man, and they crucified the Son of God !" On this subject his efforts were continuous and un- successful : the final settlement of the question of Irish tithes was reserved for the wisdom of an Imperial legislature. The mental malady of George III., in the beginning of 1789, produced as violent a political ex- citement in Ireland as it did in England. The Irish Parliament, under the influence of Mr. Grattan and his friends, addressed the Prince of Wales to accept the Regency; the English Parliament adopted a very different course, proceeding by bill instead of by ad- dress, and imposing several restrictions on the authority of the regent. Fortunately, the king's recovery pre- vented the discussion of the many difficult and, perhaps, dangei-ous questions which the inconsistent decisions of the two legislatures involved ; but the danger, though averted, furnished another proof of the peril arising from two independent legislatures in one empire, and pointed out the expediency of closer union. It would be unnecessary to dwell further on this point, but it is clear, that if the countries had difierent regencies they would virtually have had different sovereigns. The king's recovery placed all parties in Ireland in a very difficult position : the English minister, Mr. Pitt, deemed it necessary to recover his majority at all haz- ards, and, finding that the leaders of the popular party would not come into his measures, resolved to win sup- porters by a profuse distribution of pensions and places, while the popular leaders formed a Whig Club to check the progi-ess of corruption. In the midst of the 13 178 MODERxN BRITISH PLUTARCH. struggle both parties became alarmed by the dangerous influence which the French Revohition began to exer- cise on the mind of Europe. Nowhere was that in- fluence more deeply or dangerously felt than in Ireland, and Mr. Grattan early endeavored to impress on the government the necessity of adopting such measures of general reform as would satisfy moderate men, and prevent them from being led away by the violent ; and he particularly urged the necessity of settling the Catholic claims, so as to win the gratitude of the major- ity of the population. As he was a supporter of tlie war against France, his remonstrances were not with- out effect, and in 1795 Earl Fitzwilliam came to Ireland as lord-lieutenant, armed, as was believed, with suffi- cient authority to carry out a conciliatory course of policy. He had scarcely commenced acting on the new system when he was suddenly recalled, and he left Ireland all but universally lamented. A long and in- effectual struggle was made by the popular party to have concession substituted for coercion ; they failed, and seceded in a body from the House of Commons. The Irish rebellion, with its feaiful train of horrors, followed ; diseased in health, and broken in spirits, Grattan resolved to abstain from politics and spend the rest of his life in retuement. We need not dwell on the sorroNvful scenes that his country exhibited during this calamitous period, and we gladly pass to the time when the insurrection Avas suppressed and the Union proposed. On the 15th of January, 1800, Mr. Grattan was elected for the borough of Wicklow, and on that same evening came to take his seat in Parliament, just as the discussion of the question of union was at its height. The writers of the day describe his appearance in the house as a scene of great though suppressed excitement ; such it must have been, for the author of the constitution of 1782 had come to protest against its destruction. His speech was one of unrivaled power in argument and in- vective, but in this and in his other gi-eat efforts on the subject, he seems to have been oppressed with the consciousness that his resistance would be vain. Ex- perience subsequently reconciled him to the measure : HENIIV GRATTAN. 179 his celebrated reference to the Irish Parliament, when he was a member of the Imperial legislature, " I sat by- its cradle — I followed its hearse," which Lord Brough- ham justly describes as one of the finest passages of figurative eloquence, expresses neither a hope nor a wish for its revival, but intimates the absence of both. During the discussions on the union a violent personal altercation between Mr. Grattan and Mr. Corry, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, led to a duel between these gentlemen, in which the latter was wounded. This was only a symptom of the angry passions by which parties at the time were animated, and we shall, therefore, pass lightly over this period of history, simply quoting the conclusion of Grattan's last speech in, and in defence of, the Irish Parliament : — " Yet I do not give up the country ; I see her in a swoon, but she is not dead. Though in her tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still there is on her lips a sphit of fife, and on her cheek a glow of beauty, — ' Thou art not conquered ; Beauty's ensign yet Is crimson on Ihy lips and on thy cheeks, And Death's pale flag is not advanced there.' While a plank of the vessel sticks together, I will not leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and carry the light bark of his faith with every breath of wind, — I will remain anchored here : with fidelity to the fortunes of my country, faithful to her freedom, faithful in her fall." In 1805 Mr. Grattan entered the Imperial Parlia- ment for the borough of Malton, and at once took his place in the foremost rank of British orators, by the speech which he made on the subject of the Catholic claims. To this subject his parliamentaiy exertions were chiefly confined, and there is little interest in re- tracing the history of the successive failures of a question which has long since been settled. It must suffice to say, that from 1805 to 1820 he was a zealous supporter of the principles of the Whig party, except in 1815, when he supported the ministers in renewing the war against Napoleon. Few statesmen have won more respect from his co- 180 MODERISr BRITISH PLUTARCH. adjutovs and even from those he o})posed. His private hie was without a stain, either of temper or principle ; and though, after 1805, he was thrown by his parlia- mentary duties into the society of comparative strangers, he was not less honored and beloved in the political circles of London than he had been in Dubhn. There were occasions when his popularity in Ireland was clouded by the differences of opinion betw^een him and the persons whom the Catholics had selected for their leaders, but these misapprehensions were of shght du- ration, and the confidence which Mr. Grattan so richly merited was soon restored. In 1813 the bill for conceding Cathohc Emancipation was received in the House of Commons, but, after having advanced some stages, it was defeated by the influence of the Speaker in committee. After this the progress of the question was checked, but Mr. Grattan did not abandon hope, and continued annually to press it on the attention of the legislature. In the beginning of June, 1820, he came to London to renew his efforts in Parliament, but the exertion proved too great for his feeble health : "he died with his armor on." A request was made to his family, by the leading members of the liberal paity, that his re- mains might be buried in Westminster Abbej', instead of being removed for interment to Ireland ; his sons as- sented to the arrangement, and the obsequies of this great patriot were attended by all the more distinguished members of both Houses of Parliament. The letter containing the request, written by Mr. Samuel Rogers, the celebrated poet, has been much and deservedly ad- mired ; it may well sei've as an epilogue to this brief account of his useful and honorable career : — " TO THE SONS OF MR. GRATTAN. " Filled with veneration for the character of your father, we venture to express a wish, common to us with many of those who admired and loved him, that what remains of him should be allowed to continue among us, "It has pleased Divine Providence to deprive the HENRY GRATTAN. 181 empire of his services, wliile he was here in the neigh- borhood of that sacred edifice where great men from all parts of the British dominions have been for ages inter- red. We are desirous of an opportunity of joining in the due honor to tried virtue and genius. Mr. Grattan belongs to us also, and gi'eat would be our consolation, were we permitted to follow him to the grave, and to place him where he would not have been unwilling to lie_by the side of his illustrious fellow -laborers m the cause of freedom." Q EARL GREY. There is no nation in Europe more attached to the historical recollections of its ancient nobility than the English ; the small number of families which in our day represent the pure Norman aristocracy of the age of the Plantagenets are regarded with a reverence and respect greater than any amount of wealth or extent of political influence could command ; a peerage seems but the recognition of their innate nobility, and ministe- rial power the exercise of their natural functions. Few of them, however, have taken a leading part in political life since the time of the Revolution, and of those few, far the most illustrious was Charles, Earl Grey, who has but recently been taken from among us. It is ne- cessary to preface his life with some account of hrs ancestry, for a high sense of ancestral dignity was witli him a principle of action, and was manifest in every part of his political career. The Grey family is of Norman origin, and one branch of it possessed the lordship of Tancarville in Normandy, anterior to the conquest ; the title still remains in the English peerage, but has passed by marriage into the Bennet family. The branch from which the late states- man was descended, had taken an active part in the civil wars and commotions which intervened between the insurrection against Charles I. and the expulsion of James II., but after that time, though the family pos- sessed great local influence in the county of Northum- berland, few of its members acted a conspicuous part in public life. The father of the late earl was a younger EARL GREY. 183 son ; he entered the army, and rose to the rank of gen- eral ; he inherited the property of his family and the manor of Howick on the death of his elder brother, bnt was not elevated to the peerage until 1806. Charles Grey was born in Northumberland, March 13th, 1764, and sent at an early age to Eton, where he made acquaintance with Whitbread, Ponsonby, and Lambton, who were afterwards his political associates and his relatives by marriage. Even in his youth he was noticed for a chivalrous exaltation of sentiment, a high and stately bearing, and an indescribable union of personal with moral dignity. An anonymous writer states that, either in school or in the university, he re- ceived the nickname of Sir Charles Grandison, and there were, certainly, sufficient points of resemblance betsveen his character and that of Richardson's hero to justify the application. Having completed his studies at Trinity College, Cambridge, he made a tour on the Continent, but, soon returning home, he was elected member of Parlia- ment in 1785, being only just of age. A singular con- juncture of circumstances, which we have elsewhere described, had placed a statesman not much older, Mr. William Pitt, at the head of the ministry. It is said that Mr. Grey was induced to join the Whig opposition chiefly through the influence of the beautiful and fasci- nating Duchess of Devonshire, whose charms and talents were constantly exerted to secure the aid of political champions for her party. But the Whigs of that day had many attractions for a young man like Mr. Grey, more potent than female fascinations; they advocated what he probably regarded as the hereditary politics of his family; the manly eloquence of Fox was more con- genial to enthusiasm, such as Grey possessed, than the more stately declamation of Pitt, and the preeminence of the opposition in its intellectual strength was just as marked as in its political weakness. Nearly three years elapsed before Mr. Grey spoke in Parliament ; and it is remarkable that his first speech was delivered against the most liberal commercial m-eas- ure which had been proposed during the last century ; it was condemnatory of the commercial treaty with 184 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. France, the nearest approach that had then been made to what are called the principles of "Free Trade." However erroneous his views were, the eloquence and ability of his speech produced a powerful effect, and he was immediately ranked among the first orators of the day. He began from that time to take an active part in debate, chiefly as an opponent of Mr. Pitt, whom he resembled, both in firmness of resolution and obstinacy in maintaining an opinion. The collisions between these gi'eat men frequently assumed the character of personal animosity ; but Pitt was generally tiiumphant in the encounter. It was, however, a high proof of the repu- tation which Mr. Grey had, that almost immediately after his first speech, he was appointed one of the mana- gers of the impeachment of Warren Hastings. Although at this trial he was associated with the best orators that the English Parliament has ever produced. Fox, Burke, Sheridan, &c., he maintained his character as a power- ful speaker, and suffered but little, even when compared with his gi-eat associates. In the life of Burke, we have mentioned the great schism which the French revolution produced in the ranks of the Whig opposition ; Mr. Grey adhered to the party of Mr. Fox, and even went bej'ond him in his advocacy of popular claims. There was a stern deter- mination in his adherence to the principle he had adopted, which seemed compounded of the firmness of ancient chivalry and the enthusiasm of revolutionary politics. In tlie beginning of 1793, when the gi-eater part of the noblemen and gentlemen of England put on mourning for the unfortunate Louis XYL, Mr. Grey continued to wear plain clothes, as if to manifest, even in dre^is, his resolute inflexibility. It was in that same yeai', on the 6th of May, that he brought forward his celebrated motion for a reform in the national repre- sentation ; his analysis of the incongruities in the par- liamentary system, his exposure of the evils and perils of corrupt influence, and his eloquent remonstrance against continuance of such a system, made a deep impression on the public mind. The motion was, how- ever, rejected by an overwhelming majority ; and a more detailed plan of reform, presented in 1797 sliared EARL GREY. 185 the same fate. But nothing so strongly shows the tenacity of this great man's character, and the fixity of his views, than that the Reform Bill, introduced under his administration in 1831, after more than thirty years of political vicissitudes, was almost identical with that which he had proposed when member for Northum- berland. Though a firm adherent of Mr. Fox, there were many circumstances which tended to isolate Mr. Grey from the rest of his party. He was not satisfied with his leader's frequent fits of indolence and inaction; he could not but condemn Fox's exti'avagance, and he lamented the pecuniary embarrassments which they occasioned ; he thought that the head of a party was degraded by becoming dependent on public subscriptions ; but, more than all, he condemned the compliances with the Prince of Wales, in transactions of very questionable propriety. When he entered an public life he found the young prince intimately associated with the leaders of the opposition, particularly Fox and Sheridan. Their talent, their wit, and their fascinating manners, threw a delusive glare over their indulgencies, and the youth of the prince furnished an excuse for his yielding to those fashionable follies, which too rapidly degenerate into ignoble vices. The stately coldness and dignified se- verity of Grey's manners preserved him from being led avs^ay by the temptations of the dangerous circles in which he moved : the prince viewed him, however, with more respect than affection, and felt that his un- swerving steadiness was a tacit reproof to the dissipa- tions of his other associates. In 1787, when application was made to Parliament for a grant to pay the prince's debts, some of the leading members of the king's party expressed alarm at a report generally circulated and believed, that the prince was privately married to Mrs. Fitzherbert, a Catholic lady of great accomplishments and respectability. It is now generally known that she had been united to the prince by a religious ceremony, though the marriage covild not be deemed valid, being conti-ary to act of Parliament. Still, as the Act of Settlement excluded from the inheritance of the throne any prince who had q2 186 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. married a Roman Catholic, and as such a marriage was generally regarded by the English people as dangerous to public liberty and the national religion, it was heces- sary to take some notice of the rumor, and Mr. Fox was authorized to denounce it, in the most explicit terms, as a calumnious falsehood. When Mrs. Fitz- herbert heard what had passed, she was naturally and justly indignant ; the prince at once, eager to appease her anger, and at the same time to avoid unpleasant discussions in Parliament, applied to Grey to make use of some new subterfuge in the House of Commons, which would weaken the effect of Fox's declaration, without giving it a direct contradiction. Grey's indig- nant refusal of so degrading a task, was said to have been couched in very strong terms ; recourse was then had to Sheridan, who was less scrupulous ; but from that time a coolness, almost amounting to dislike, grew up between the prince and Mr. Grey, and there was a great diminution of confidence between Grey and Sheridan. From the time of the defeat of his measures of reform, Mr. Grey acted only a secondary part in the ranks of opposition ; his views with regard to the French revo- lution were gradually modified, and he became more distinguished for moderation than zeal. When Mr. Fox came into ofifice, on the death of Pitt in 1806, Mr. Grey, whose father was at the same time raised to the peerage, took office as First Lord of the Admiralty, and became known by the honorary title of Lord Howick. He took an active part in the abolition of the slave trade, and it was under his immediate auspices that this great measure of humanity was finally carried. On the death of Mr. Fox, Lord Howick succeeded him as Foreign Secretary, and leader of the House of Commons. As such, he introduced a bill for removing religious tests in the army and navy, which was a measure so offensive to the scruples of the king, that he dismissed the ministry. Soon afterward Lord How- ick, on the death of his father, was called to the upper house as Earl Grey, and became there the leader of opposition during a long period of exclusion from office. The mental indisposition of George HL at the close EARL GREY. 187 of 1809, which was soon found to be incurable, rendered it necessary to establish a regency, and the Prince of Wales invited Lords Grey and Grenville to advise him on the answer he should make to the address voted by Parliament. Their counsels were not approved ; a reply prepared by Sheridan was preferred to that which they recommended, and this not a little contributed to increase the separation between the prince and the political friends of his youth. They were, indeed, formally invited to share office with Mr. Percival, but they at once declined joining an administration pledged to oppose the Catholic claims. On the assassination of Mr. Percival in 1812, these noblemen were again in- vited to form an administi-ation ; Earl Grey demanded large sacrifices from the regent, a great change both in foreign and domestic policy, and the dismissal of the officers of the royal household. The regent and his friends believed that such demands evinced the spirit of a dictator rather than a minister. Sheridan, who dreaded the stern inflexibility of Lord Grey, acted a double part in the negotiations ; the regent, who was never anxious for the success of the arrangements, took courage and refused the conditions, but the failure was generally attributed to the haughty inflexibility of Earl Grey. His defence of himself is a noble specimen of his dignified eloquence : — " The time will certainly arrive, when all the pro- ceedings which have been had upon this subject, will be fully explained to Parliament. At present, and merely as a key and explanation to them, I beg to state that the attempts made to form an administration, as far as we were included, were made upon the following terms : that we should be morally certain that the principles which we have maintained and acted upon through life, would be overruled in the cabinet. Was this, — I appeaJ to the house, I appeal to the countiy, — a fit, a decent proposal for us to accept ? What is there in my con- duct, what is there in my life, which should induce even a momentary belief, that I would consent to degrade my- self into an instrument, a tool to accomplish the designs of others ? Was it really believed that I should now support measures I have uniformly and strenuously con- 188 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. demned ? Shall I permit myself to indulge the idea for an instant, that any man would dare to hope, that for the despicable emoluments of office, I would barter the principles that have influenced my life ; or that I would now at once abandon those measures which in my opin- ion are essential to the salvation of the state ? My lords, I wish to make no lofty pretensions to independence and disinterestedness ; I ask for nothing but what I have a right to claim. My life is before my country, and my countrymen shall be my judges. But I am aware that I have a duty to perform to my friends, and a duty to discharge to ray countiy ; — to those friends, to whose steady and honorable attachment I owe so much, and to that country whose misfortunes and whose miseries I so deeply deplore. There is no man more anxious than myself, as far as is consistent with my honor, to out- sti-etch a feeble but a ready hand to save the sinking nation ; whenever my humble services are called for, there is no danger that shall appall me, no difficulty from which I will shrink. Give me leave, however, my lords, to remark, that I stand in a situation in which I am jus- tified in saying, that unless I am called to government consistently with the principles I have throughout pro- fessed, unless I am allowed to recommend measures in the cabinet which I have recommended in the house, unless I can continue to act with that honor which it has been my pride hitherto to maintain, there is no extremity of poverty which I would not rather embrace, no accumulation of calamity which 1 would not rather endure. With these sentiments, my lords, I have now little prospect of being called to the councils of my sovereign." During the eighteen years that followed, Earl Grey continued to be the leader of opposition in the House of Lords ; but his opposition was never factious, he did not seek to throw out the ministers with the hope of being himself called to the head of affairs. His resistance to measures which he disapproved was evinced by dignified speeches, by powerful protests, or by sarcastic criticism, but never by appeals to popular feeling. His effiarts were rare, but when he spoke, unexampled deference was shown for his opinions, both within and without the EARL GREY. 189 walls of Parliament. Much of this was due to his dig- nity in private life, his chivalrous honor and unimpeach- able integi-ity. In the midst of the dissipation and excesses which distinguished fashionable life under the regency, Lord Grey's household exhibited a purity of morals and strictness of domestic virtue that might almost be called Spartan. Lord Byron has recorded the im- pression produced on him by the aspect of the numerous family which surrounded this noble model of an English patrician. Though in public life he displayed much of the stern severity of Cato, in the domestic circle his ami- able manners placed every one at ease, while his equa- nimity attracted confidence. The greatest fault of Earl Grey's character was the strength of his personal resentments ; he had little sus- ceptilDility, but he never pardoned. This quality of mind was evinced in his earlier conflicts with Mr. Pitt, but it was most manifest in his conduct to George IV., Mr. Canning, and Mr. O'Connell. During the queen's trial, Earl Grey bore himself rather as the antagonist of George IV. than the advocate of Queen Caroline. Du- ring the whole of the year 1820, he shielded one whom he had, when minister, most severely censured, and yet so dignified was his position and so noble his bearing, that no one ventured to charge him with inconsistency. To him, more than to.any one else, must the failure of the bill of Pains and Penalties be ascribed. In 1827, the ministry to which Earl Grey had been so long opposed, was broken up, and the reins of power transferred to Mr. Canning. But between the new pre- mier and Earl Grey there had been a feud of twenty years' standing, envenomed on the one hand by sallies of wit, epigram, lampoon, and on the other by reprisals of scorn, defiance, and disdain ; many of the Whig oppo- sition, particularly the younger men, attracted by Can- ning's fascinating qualities, joined his ranks, and Earl Grey was all but left alone. Cato deserted in Utica was not more firm and determined ; he rose from the oppo- sition benches, where he sat surrounded by his old ad- versaries, with whom he could have no sj^mpathy, and confronting the benches on wliich sat the friends with whom he had invariably acted, but from whom he now 190 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. felt himself severed, and delivered one of the most tell- ing invectives uttered against a public man since the days of Cicero and Antony. The effect of this attack on Canning was greatly increased by the dignified mel- ancholy with which Lord Grey declared, that he had, for himself, abandoned all hopes of power. " Those who have done me the honor to attach any importance to my opinions, are awai-e that I have, for some years, been withdrawing myself more and more from a direct interference in the politics of the country. As long, however, as I do remain, I am anxious to keep in that situation in which I can do what I consider the most good. To take a more active part in public busi- ness, is quite out of my intention. 'Non eadem est aetas, non mens.' With the noble marquis (Lansdowne) I concur in most questions ; and to him I will, on every occasion, give my support, where I conscientiously can ; but at the same time I must declare, that I will never shrink from opposing any and every measure which I cannot conscientiously approve. I shall not, however, again embark upon the troubled sea of politics, upon which all my life, until now, I have navigated, God knows with how little success, but at the same time with the consolation of knowing that I have done so with an honest and approving conscience." The death of Mr. Canning, folloiived soon after by the accession of the Wellington administration, brought par- ties back to their former places. Earl Grey for some time took no active part in public life, but he zealously supported the ministerial measure of Catholic Emanci- pation. It was with something like astonishment that the world saw him, after the death of George IV., when the revolutions of France and Belgium had spread a fe- verish excitement throughout Europe, suddenly appear as the leader of those who demanded parliamentary re- form. Even now, we cannot quite divest ourselves of the feeling of wonder at the unanimity with which all classes of reformers accepted him as their head, and submitted to the guidance of the veteran statesman. On the resignation of the Wellington ministiy, he was ap- pointed Premier, and the Reform Bill, introduced under his auspices in 1831. was, as we have said, in all its es- EARL GREY. 191 sential features, identical with that which he had vainly- proposed in 1797. The struggle by which the Reform Bill was finally carried, is too near our own time to be criticised or even recorded. Earl Grey's popularity with nearly all classes was unbounded ; even his opponents were affected by the courage and consistency which he displayed in every trial. But it was when the victory was won that his real difficulties commenced. For obvious reasons we shall not discuss questions which raised passions that have not yet subsided. The ministers differed on the course of policy that ought to be pursued toward Ire- land. Lord Grey was averse to the concessions that some of his colleagues wished to make to O'Connell, whom he personally and politically disliked ; Sir James Graham and Lord Stanley, who shared his antipathy to the Irish agitator, had already abandoned office ; and at length, on the 9th of July, 1834, Earl Grey announced to the peers that he had ceased to be minister. The dignified simplicity of this speech, which may be re- garded as the great man's farewell address to his coun- trymen, is a rare specimen of noble candor. " In March last I completed my seventieth year, and at that period of life, a man, although he might be able to discharge the duties of that office which I hold, under ordinaiy and easy circumstances, yet, considering the present condition of affairs, I felt that the duties imposed on me were too much for my strength, and that I should therefore be justified in retiring. On receiving my no- ble friend's (Althorp's) resignation, therefore, I saw no alternative, but felt impelled by irresistible necessity to tender my own to his majesty at the same time. Those resignations have been accepted by his majesty, and 1 now stand here discharging the duties of office only till such time as his majesty shall be enabled to supply my place. I trust that in this painful statement — in this last scene of my political life — I may experience your lordships' indulgence. I have stated the circumstances candidly to your lordships — I wish to disguise nothing; and I shall bo ready to submit to your lordships' cen- sure, if you think me in fault : but I claim your lord- ships' indulgence, if my errors admit of excuse. I call 192 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. on your lordships and the public for a just, and even kind consideration of the difficult circumstances in which I have been placed. I came into the government at a season of great difficulty, and I never should have occu- pied my present situation if I could have persuaded the noble marquis near me (Lord Lansdowne) to accept it. I may have much to account for to your lordships, and to the country, with respect to the ability with which I have discharged my duty ; but I trust that I shall stand excused in your lordships' and in my country's opinion for any departure from the principles which I have pro- fessed, or for any deviation from that conduct which became a man of honor." During the remaining years of his life Earl Grey with- drew altogether from public affairs, save that on two or three occasions he came fonvard to support his friend and successor in office, Lord Melbourne. His retire- ment was cheered by the consciousness that he held the highest place in the estimation of his countrymen ; for all the complaints that had been made against his administration were withdrawn so soon as he quitted office ; and it seemed as if, during his life, he had taken his place in history. His death, in the summer of 1845, excited little notice, because it was an event w^iich had long been expected ; but it called forth fi-om men of all parties just eulogiums on the last of a class of statesmen peculiar to England, but which England is not likely to see again. In all the relations of public life he preserved an admirable consistency : his eloquence was the just reflection of his natural character. He had the advan- tage of a noble person, a commanding aspect, and a most musical voice ; his delivery was graceful and imposing, and he exhibited a kind of gi-ave dignity in his enuncia- tion which made every word fall on the ear with the weight of authority. To use the words of one who was worthy to write his epitaph, " He was a great man, who has left a great example." WARREN HASTINGS. Warren Hastings was born on the 6th of Decem- ber, 1732. The death of his parents while he was an infant left him dependent upon his grandfather, an aged clergyman, with a very limited income, and whose sense of poverty was rendered veiy keen by his residing in the midst of the broad lands which had passed from his family into the hands of strangers. These feelings im- bued the mind of little Warren with wild fancies and projects ; he loved in his old age to relate how, when scarcely seven years old, he had formed the resolution to recover his hereditaiy manor of Daylesford, and this purpose, formed in infancy and poverty, gi-ew stronger as his intellect expanded and his fortune rose. When he reached his eighth year, he was taken under the protection of his uncle Howard, who determined to give him a liberal education. The boy went up to London, and after spending two years in a preparatory establish- ment at Newington, was sent to Westminster School, where several who afterwards attained gi-eat eminence were at that time students. Among his intimates were the poet Cowper, and Impey, with whom he subse- quently became associated on a very different stage. But Hastings was popular with all his companions, being an excellent swimmer, boatman, and scholar. Having passed through the usual course of studies, he was pre- paring to remove to Oxford, when his uncle died, be- queathing him to the care of a distant relative named Chiswick. This gentleman obtained for his charge a writership in the service of the East India Company ; 13 R 194 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. and though Dr. Nicholls, the master of Westminster School, offered to defray the expenses of his favorite pupil at the University, Chiswick would not change his destination, but sent him to Bengal, where he arrived in October, 1750. Calcutta was at this time a purely commercial estab- lishment ; the Company possessed no authority beyond Fort William ; the province of Bengal was ruled by Surajah Dowlah, who was nominally dependent on the Emperor of Delhi. After a short residence at Cal- cutta, Hastings was sent to superintend the factory of Cossumbazar, where the Company had an extensive trade in silk goods. Hastings spent some years in this mercantile situation ; he was suddenly seized by Sura- jah Dowlah, and thrown into prison. Having pillaged the factory at Cossumbazar, the nabob marched on Cal- cutta, which was abandoned by the governor and com- mandant ; the English who remained became prisoners, and most of them perished in the Black Hole. The treatment of Hastings was mild and indulgent ; he was allowed a gi'eat share of liberty, and he became the agent of communication between the nabob and the fugitive governor. Intrigues were formed for removing Surajah Dowlah, but the time was not yet ripe for their execution ; suspicion was excited, and Hastings with dif- ficulty escaped to Fulda, where the English had sought refuge. Soon after the expedition from Madras, under the command of Clive, arrived in the Hoogly, Warren joined it as a volunteer ; but his talents soon attracted the notice of the general, who resolved to employ him in a diplomatic capacity. When Meer Jaffier was cre- ated nabob, after the battle of Plassy, Hastings was appointed to reside at his court as agent for the Com- pany. There he remained until 1761, when, having been appointed a member of council, he was compelled to reside at Calcutta. In the life of Clive we have given an account of the gi'oss coiTuption by which the govern- ment of British India was at this time disgraced. Hast- ings does not appear to have exhibited the same rapacity as many of his companions ; for, when he returned to England in 1764, his fortune was veiy moderate, and it was soon reduced to nothing, partly by his liberality, and WARREN HASTINGS. 195 partly by imprudence. He gave more than he could well afford to his poor relations, and the greater part of his savings, which had been lent out on high interest in India, was lost by the bankruptcy of the persons to whom it had been entrusted. Before this was known, he had formed a project to introduce the study of Persian liter- ature into the English Universities, and, while endeavor- ing to carry it into effect, made the acquaintance of Doc- tor Johnson, on whom his talents and attainments made a most favorable impression. The loss of his fortune compelled him to apply again for employment to the Court of Directors, and in 1769 he sailed from Eng- land, having been appointed member of council at Ma- dras. On the voyage, he fell in love with the wife of his fellow-passenger. Baron Imhoff, a despicable adventurer, who hoped to support himself in India by painting por- ti'aits. It was soon arranged that the baroness should institute a suit for divorce in a German court ; that her husband, in consideration of a large bribe, should give every facility to the suit, and that, when the legal for- malities were completed, the lady should become the wife of Hastings. This strange bargain was carried into effect ; and the parties were happier than such immo- rality deserved. The improvements which Hastings made at Madras were so great, that the directors resolved to place him at the head of the government of Bengal. He arrived at Calcutta early in 1772, and took his place at the head of the council ; for, at this period, the governor had only one vote in the council, and, in case of division, a cast- ing vote. Though the English possessed all the real power, the government of Bengal was administered in the name of the nabob, who resided at Moorshedabad ; and the internal affairs were entrusted to a native min- ister, who had charge of the entire administration, and was responsible only to the British rulers of the country. There were two candidates for this high office, Mo- hammed Reza Khan, a Mussulman of fair character, and Nuncomar, a Brahmin of great talent, but very in- different reputation. Clive had appointed Mohammed Reza Khan to the administration ; but Nuncomar con- 196 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. ti'ived, througli his agents, to persuade the court of di- rectors that the minister did not collect as large a revenue as might easily be obtained ; and this calumny was very readily credited, as the most extravagant notions of the wealth of India were entertained in England. Orders were sent out to Hastings that Mohammed Reza Khan should be airested, and his accounts closely investigated. Hastings promptly obeyed, but at the same time he baf- fled the crafty ambition of Nuncomar, by abolishing the office of native minister altogether. After a long ti'ial, Mohammed Reza Khan was acquitted ; and Nuncomar found that his intrigues had ended in transfen-ing the government from native to European hands, and that his own hopes were forever frustrated. The East India proprietors in England, believing the resources of India inexhaustible, were constantly de- manding large remittances from their servants without being aware that such sums could not be obtained with- out violating the principles of rectitude. They recom- mended justice and humanity ; but they concluded every moral lesson with a demand for more money, without seeming to be aware of the inconsistency. Hastings saw that he must disobey one or other of the injunc- tions, and he correctly judged that he would best please his mastors by neglecting the morality and attending to the money. He began by reducing the annual allowance of the Nabob of Bengal from three hundred and twenty thou- sand pounds a-year to half that sum. It had been agi*eed that a ti'ibute of the same amount should be paid to the Emperor of Delhi; but this was now withheld, on the ground that the emperor was no longer an independent sovereign. The provinces of Allahabad and Corah were wrested from the same monarch on the same pretence, and were then sold to the Nabob of Oude for half a mil- lion sterling. A more still unjustifiable transaction fol- lowed ; the Nabob of Oude coveted the teiritory of the Rohillas, a gallant race, descended from the Afghans, who had been rewarded for their military sei-vices to the emperors of Delhi, by gi-ants of the fertile lands watered by the Ramagunga, a tributary of the Ganges. The nabob shrank from a conflict with this gallant race ; WAREEN HASTINGS. 197 but lie ofifered four hundred thousand pounds to the governor-general for the aid of an English army. The bargain was soon struck, and three brigades were sent to aid in subjugating a brave population who had never done us any harm, and placing them under the worst government to be found even in India. No stipula- tion was made for observing the ordinary humanities of civilized warfare, though Sujah Dowlah, the Nabob of Oude, was as notorious for his cruelty as for his cowardice. The result is soon told ; the Rohillas, after a brave resistance, were broken by the superior discipline of the English soldiers: the native troops of Oude, who had fled from fight, returned to plunder, and no mercy was shown to the vanquished. Rohillund was laid waste with fire and sword ; villages were burned, men driven to perish by hunger in the jungles, children butchered, and women dishonored. Colonel Champion, the Eng- lish commander, remonstrated with the nabob, and sent strong representations to the governor; but the nabob disregarded every appeal, and Hastings refused to in- terfere. In a few months the rich province which had tempted the cupidity of Sujah Dowlah, became the most miserable part even of his miserable dominions; but Warren Hastings had obtained for the treasury a million in ready money, had added about half that sum to the permanent income of the Company, and had re- lieved the finances of Bengal from the expense of sup- porting the army to an amount of more than two hun- dred thousand pounds, and had thrown that charge on the Nabob of Oude. In 1773, a change was made in the administration of India by act of Parliament. It was arranged that the presidency of Bengal should exercise a contt-oUing power over the other possessions of the Company; that its chief should be styled governor-general ; that he should be assisted by four counselors named in the act ; and that a supreme court of judicature, consisting of a chief jus- tice and three inferior judges, should be established at Calcutta. Warren Hastings was appointed the first governor-general; the four counselors were General Clavering, Mr. Barwell, Mr. Monson, and Mr. Francis. r2 198 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. The tenure of their office was five years. The new chief justice was Sir Elijah Impey, who had been the school-fellow of Hastings, and who now showed himself his unscrupulous partisan. Clavering, Monson, and Francis united against Hast- ings from the very first, and having a majority in the council took the whole administration into their own hands. Their ignorance of Indian affairs soon threw the public policy, at home and abroad, into a state of sad confusion, while they seemed to be actuated but by one motive, a des'u*e to mortify the governor-general, and to show that power had passed from his hands. Nunco- mar believed that the time was come for revenging his old disappointment ; he paid the most obsequious atten- tion to the new counselors, and placed in their hands a paper, accusing Hastings of putting offices up to sale, and of receiving bribes for suffering offenders to escape. Francis read the paper in council; in spite of the pro- test of Hastings, the majority resolved that the charge should be investigated ; Nuncomar produced his evi- dence, and it was voted that Hastings had unfairly re- ceived thirty thousand pounds which ought to be re- funded. Hastings secretly sent his resignation to Colonel Mac- leane, his agent in England, to be placed in the hands of the directors, if they should appear to favor his enemies; but at the same time, he aimed a stroke at then* chief agent, which was wholly unexpected. Nuncomar was arrested on a charge of forgery, and cast into prison ; bail was refused, and the interference of the council was peremptorily resisted by the court. The day of trial came ; a jury, composed of Englishmen, found Nuncomar guilty, and Sir Elijah Irapey pronounced sentence of death. No respite or delay would be grant- ed, and the unfortunate Brahmin was publicly hanged in Calcutta. Such a punishment for such a crime had not before been known in India, and the hoiTor which it is inspired is not yet forgotten. That Impey acted at the direct instigation of Hastings cannot be proved, but there is no doubt that he took advantage of this ques- tionable power of the law to aid and gratify the governor- ^eneral. The aid was most effectual: all the native WARREN HASTINGS. 199 accusers of Hastings, warned by the fate of Nuncomar, withdrew their charges, and the council found that the governor in a minority was still formidable. But in the mean time, intelligence of the disputes between Hastings and the council had reached England. Lord North, who was then premier, declared in favor of the council, and the Court of Directors took the same course ; but the Court of Proprietors came to a different decision, and established the authority of Hastings. Lord North threatened parliamentary interference, upon which Colonel Macleane produced the resignation with which he was entrusted. It was accepted, Mr. Wheler was appointed to succeed Hastings, and Claver- ing was appointed to act as governor-general until Wheler should arrive. But in the mean time, the death of Monsou had re- duced the opponents of Hastings in the council to two, and as he was supported by Barwell, his casting vote gave him in effect a majority. W^ien the appointment of Clavering arrived, Hastings disavowed his resignation, and after a sharp struggle he got his opponents to refer the question to the Supreme Court. The judges de- cided that the resignation was invalid, and that Hastings was consequently still the governor-general. Clavering died shortly after; Wheler, when he came out, was forced to content himself with a seat at the council board ; and the course pursued by Hastings when re- stored to power was so wise and prudent, that he soon regained the favor of the Court of Directors. When his five years of office had expired, he was quietly re- appointed. His second administi'ation commenced in a season of peril and difficulty. The Mahratta powers menaced hostilities; France, having declared war against Eng- land, was likely to renew her attempts on India, and many of the native powers began to show signs of dis- content. Sir Eyre Coote was sent out as commander- in-chief; but Hastings found it no easy task to gratify the caprices of the old general. Evils of a different nature arose from the claims of the Supreme Court of Justice to independent power, and it was only by giving a large bribe to Impey that harmony could be restored. 200 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. In the council disputes went to such a height, that Francis challenged the governor-general; they met, and Francis was severely Avounded. A still more dan- gerous crisis arrived, which, but for the gi'eat abilities displayed by Hastings, might probably have rendered the years 1780 and 1781 as fatal to our power in Asia as they were to our power in America. Hyder Ali, who had risen from the lowest ranks to be King of My- sore, invaded the Carnatic at the head of an army of ninety thousand men, well provided with artillery, and guided in its movements by able French officers. Two English armies advanced against Hyder, but defeii'ing their junction they exposed themselves to be separately attacked. Baillie's forces were surrounded and cut to pieces ; Sir Hector Munro could only save his men by a hasty retreat, in which he abandoned his baggage and destroyed his guns. Intelligence of the danger of South- ern India was brought to Hastings by a fast-sailing ves- sel : his resolution was at once formed ; Sir Eyre Coote, with a military force, and a large supply of money, was sent to Madras ; the progi'ess of Hyder was arrested, and the great victory of Porto Novo reti'ieved the mili- taiy fame of England. But this biilliant policy was very costly, and the gov- ernment of Bengal began to feel the pressure of financial embaiTassments. Hastings was resolved that money should be obtained at all hazards, and the first victim marked out for extortion was Cheyte Sing, Rajah of Benares. So early as 1778 Cheyte Sing had been com- pelled, in addition to his fixed ti'ibute, to pay an extra- ordinaiy contribution of fifty thousand pounds toward the expenses of the war with France ; an equal sum was exacted in the following year. When the demand was renewed in 1780, Cheyte Sing offered the governor- general a bribe of twenty thousand pounds, which Hast- ings accepted, but after some delay paid over to the treasury. He then insisted that the rajah should com- ply with the demands of the government, and added a fine of ten thousand pounds for delay. The money was paid, but the governor-general was not satisfied ; he re- quired the rajah to maintain a body of cavahy for the service of the Company, and, on his refusal, resolved to WARREN HASTINGS. 201 treat him as a criminal. Cheyte Sing was in the utmost dismay ; he offered two hundi-ed thousand pounds to propitiate the British government, but was informed that nothing less than half-a-million would be accepted. Hastings even began to think of selling Benares to Oude, as he had formerly sold Allahabad and Rohillund, and he went to Benares with a very limited suite to super- intend the conduct of affairs. Cheyte Sing gave ex- 'cuses in abundance, but, as he did not supply the money demanded, he was arrested in his own capital. Benares, the great meti'opolis of the Brahminical re- ligion, was deeply stirred by this outrage ; its inhabitants rushed to arms ; the gates of the palace where Cheyte Sing was confined were forced, the officers and soldiers were cut to pieces, and the captive prince escaped across the river during the confusion. Hastings was in great danger : he had only fifty men with him, and the build- ing in which he had taken up his residence was block- aded by the populace. His fortitude was not shaken ; he contrived to communicate his situation to the com- manders of the English troops ; officers and men has- tened to his relief with an alacrity which never was surpassed. Major Popham led the forces thus hastily assembled against the tumultuary troops of the rajah ; the contest was easily decided, the insurgents scarce made a show of resistance ; Cheyte Sing fled from his country for ever, and his territoiy was added to the Bri- tish dominions. It had been beUeved that his ti-easury contained more than a million of money ; only about a quarter of that sum was found, and even this was seized as prize money by the army. Disappointed in his expectations fi-om Benares, Hast- ings turned his attention to Oude, where his prospects of success were not very flattering, as Asaph al Dow- lah, the son and successor of Sujah Dowlah, so far from being able to gi'ant an extraordinary supply of money, was petitioning for a remission of the sums he already owed. Under these circumstances the governor-general and the nabob met ; they were not long in coming to an agreement ; they resolved that money should be extort- ed from the mother and wife of the late nabob, who were usually called the begums or princesses of Oude. 202 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. It was agreed that these noble ladies, under pretence of having fomented the disturbances at Benares, should be deprived of the lands and treasures bequeathed to them by the late Sujah Dowlah. The most iniquitous means were used to enforce this iniquitous measure ; the palace of the princesses was stormed, and they were confined to their apartments ; and when this failed, their favorite servants were imprisoned, ironed, and almost starved to death. Worse even than this, they were sent to Lucknow and delivered up to torture. This cruelty continued until twelve hundred thousand pounds had been extorted from the princesses, and the captives were liberated. But the state of India now began to excite the atten- tion of the British Parliament. Toward the close of the American war two committees of the Commons sat on Indian affairs ; Edmund Burke presided over one, and Mr. Henry Dundas over the other. The reports of both harshly censured the conduct of Hastings ; and the House of Commons voted that he ought to be re- called. The East India proprietors, however, remained firm in his cause, and he continued to hold oflfice until 1785, when he left India, which his administration had brought to a state of unexampled ti-anquillity. Hastings landed at Plymouth in June, 1785 ; on his arrival in London he was graciously received at court, cordially greeted by the directors, and assured of the friendship of some of the most eminent public men. But he soon found that a storm was coming. Burke gave notice of a motion seriously affecting him, which could not, however, be discussed at so late a period of the session ; and Major Scott, to whom Hastings had entrusted his defence, was about the most incompetent advocate he could have selected. On the first day of the session Scott tauntingly reminded Burke of his charges, and thus compelled him and his associates to persevere as accusers, or to acknowledge themselves calumniators. Burke laid his charges on the table early in April, and Hastings was invited to answer them at the bar. He did so by reading a paper of immense length, which soon dispersed the members, and thus the vindication WARREN HASTINGS. 203 was addressed to empty benches. In the beginning of June, Burl;e brought forward his first charge, relating to the Rohilla war, but it was rejected by a large majority. Hastings seemed now assured of victory ; his friends demanded that he should be raised to the peerage ; the very title, that of Lord Daylesford, was chosen ; but this joy was premature, Hastings had still to pass through a long and perilous ordeal. On the thirteenth of June Mr. Fox brought forward the charge respecting the treatment of Cheyte Sing. The premier, Mr. Pitt, who had hitherto supported Hastings, voted for the charge, which was immediately sanctioned by a large majority. In the following session Sheridan brought forward the charge relating to the Begums of Oude, in the most wonderful speech ever delivered in the House of Commons. Pitt declared himself for the motion, which was carried. The friends of Hastings were discouraged, twenty articles of impeachment were sanctioned by the House of Commons, and carried by Burke to the House of Lords. As the session was near its close, Hastings, having been aiTested as a mat- ter of form, was admitted to bail, and preparations were made for the most extraordinary trial the world had ever witnessed. In the lives of Burke, Fox, and Sheridan, will be found some account of the zeal and ability with which the impeachment was supported ; Hastings met the storm with remarkable firmness, and during the eight years that the trial continued never showed the slightest want of courage or confidence. Public opinion, which had at first been on the side of his accusers, turned decidedly in his favor, and when his acquittal was finally pronounced, the voice of the nation sanctioned the verdict. But the enormous expenses of this pro- tracted trial, and, still more, the sums spent in bribing newspapers, and hiring writers of pamphlets, had ruined the fortunes of Hastings. He had indeed purchased the manor of Daylesford, and expended large sums on its improvement, but his distress became so great that he could not discharge his weekly bills. The Company was not unwilling to assist him, but the Board of Con- trol refused assent. 204 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. A long controversy followed, and at length he obtained an annuity of four thousand and a loan of fifty thousand pounds without interest. He retired to Daylesford, where he amused himself by tiying to rear Indian ani- mals and vegetables in England, varying this employ- ment with literary pursuits. His very existence was forgotten, until in 1813 he was called to give evidence at the bar of the House of Commons, on the occasion of the renewal of the Company's charter. Twenty-seven years had elapsed since he had appeared in the same place to answer the charges which Burke had laid on the table. The nation had now forgotten his faults, and remembered only his services. He was received with acclamations ; a chair was ordered to be set for him, and when he retired the members rose and uncovered. Similar honors were paid him by the House of Lords, and the University of Oxford conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Laws. He was made a member of the Privy Council ; the Prince Regent ti-eated him with marked favor, and introduced him to the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia as the savior of India. He confidently expected a peerage, but was dis- appointed. He survived four years, enjoying a health of body and mind rare in extreme old age. He died on the 22nd day of August, in the 86th year of his age, and was buried in the parish church of his beloved Dayles- ford. Warren Hastings had gi-eat qualities, and rendered gi-eat services to the state, but there were dark spots on his fame, which all the brilliancy of his successful ad- ministration could not efface. We may acquit him of any share in the legal murder of Nuncomar, but his conduct to the Rohillas, the Rajah of Benares, and the Begums of Oude admits of no defence, scarce even of palliation. He went down to his grave in the fulness of age — in peace after so many troubles — in honor after so much obloquy. BISHOP HEBER. ^HE amiable character of Bishop Heber, conspicuous in every action of his life, renders his memoirs as in- teresting and more instructive than those of warriors and of statesmen. His premature death in a distant land prevented his attaining that eminence in the Church and that estimation from his countiymen, to vi^hich he was fairly entitled by his virtues and his talents ; but he left behind him a bright example, which we trust re- quires only to be known in order to be imitated. Regi- nald Heber was born April 21st, 1783, at Malpas in the county of Chester ; his father was rector of the parish, and also proprietor of a considerable estate. Reginald's early childhood was distinguished by mildness of dispo- sition, obedience to his parents, consideration for the feelings of those around him, and a firm reliance on God's providence. His early progress was so rapid that he could read the Bible with fluency at five years of age, and was even then remarkable for the avidity with which he studied it, and his accurate knowledge of its contents. When he was about seven years old, a party of his young companions were amusing themselves with riddles and cross questions in the room where he was reading. His attention was attracted by the question, " Where was Moses when his candle went out ?" He instantly replied, " On Mount Nebo ; for there he died, and there his lamp of life may well be said to have gone out." His ardent passion for knowledge was guided by his father to be useful, so that when he was sent to school S 306 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. at thirteen years of age, he possessed more information than many who are reputed to have completed their education. He entered All Souls' College, Oxford, in November, 1800, and soon acquired a high reputation for his classical acquirements, to which he soon added the celebrity of poetic powers of the highest order. It was in the spring of 1803 that he wrote his " Palestine," the best prize poem ever produced at a university. When it was nearly completed he read it to Sir Walter Scott, who happened to breakfast with him ; Sh' Walter remarked, " You have omitted one striking circumstance in your account of the building of the temple, that no tools were used in its erection." Mr. Heber immedi- ately produced the following beautiful couplet : — " No hammer fell, no ponderous axes rung, Like some tali palm the mystic fabric sprung." His recital of this beautiful poem in the magnificent theatre of the Oxford University w^as witnessed by his father, and the applause which it received was said to have produced such an effect on his health, that parental joy contributed to hasten his death. This was not his only ti-iumph ; the year after He had fakeh his degree, he obtained the Bachelor's prize for an English prose essay : the subject was the " Sense of Honor," and was admirably suited to his peculiar powers and feelings. In the middle of the year 1805, accompanied by his friend Mr. John Thornton, he made a tour to the north of Europe, which was extended through Russia, Hun- gary, and Germany. He returned in 1807, and having taken orders was instituted by his brother to the family living of Hodnet, in Shropshire, a place for which he felt through life a most warm attachment. In 1809 he married the youngest daughter of the Dean of St. Asaph, and, as a proof of his value of the Holy Scriptures, the lady has recorded that the first present she ever received from him was a Bible. As a parish priest he was one of the most estimable of his day ; his liberal charities alleviated the sufferings of the poor ; his gentle rebukes checked the pursuits of the vicious ; — dissent was almost unknown in his neighborhood, tliough he never allowed religious differences to inter- BISHOP HEBER. 207 fere with the course of his philanthropy. His life was thus useful and tranquil ; he avoided publicity, and his name was little known beyond the circle of his imme- diate friends, when he was chosen to preach the Bamp- ton Lectures in 1815. The subject he selected was, " The Personality and Office of the Christian Com- forter." The publication of these lectures involved him in a painful controversy with one of his critics, but it was the general belief that Heber had the best of the argu- ment. He was a frequent contributor to the " Quarterly Review," and other periodicals ; literature was his chief relaxation, and his power of extracting poetry from the most simple facts, rendered his articles as delightful as they were instructive. His attention was first directed to missionaiy enterprise in 1819, when he ^Vl•ote the well-known hymn, commencing : " From Greenland's icy mountain." This was first sung in the church of Wrexham, but is now known and admired wherever the English language is spoken. Early in the year 1822, Mr. Heber was ap- pointed preacher to Lincoln's Inn, and resolved to reside for the future three months of the year in London ; but in the close of the same year he received the oflter of the bishopric of Calcutta, which he accepted, though in a worldly point of view it was far from being advanta- geous. He had for many years felt a deep interest in the pro- gress of Christianity in British India; oriental climes had also a romantic charm in his mind, — "he loved to contemplate human nature in every varied form, and his imagination was keenly alive to the terrible natural phe- nomena of ti-opical climes, to the magnificence of their scenery, and the beauty and variety of their animal pro- ductions." But he did not quit England without a severe struggle between his feelings at separating from his friends, and his sense of duty in accepting the means of usefulness which Providence had placed before him. " Surely," he declares in a letter to a friend, "a priest should be like a soldier, who is bound to go on any ser- vice for which he thinks himself suited, and for which a fair opening occurs, however he may privately prefer 208 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Staying at home, or flatter himself with the hope of a more advantageous situation afterwards." On the 16th of June, 1823, the bishop with his family sailed for India, " that land of disappointment, and sor- row, and death." On his landing in India, he wrote the following prayer : — " Accept, O blessed Lord, my hearty thanks for the protection which Thou hast vouchsafed to me and mine during a long and dangerous voyage, and through many strange and unwholesome climates. Extend to us, I beseech Thee, Thy fatherly protection and love in the land where we now dwell, and among the perils to which we are now liable. Give us health, strength, and peace of mind ; give us friends in a strange land, and favor in the eyes of those around us ; give us so much of this world's good as Thou knowest to be good for us ; and be pleased to give us gi'ace to love Thee truly, and constant- ly to praise and bless Thee, through Thy dear Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen." The duties of a diocese almost as extensive as an em- pire were onerous in the extreme, but Bishop Heber found time to forward the cause of native education in India; he superintended the completion of Bishop's College in Calcutta, and took an active part in the estab- lishment of schools, particularly those for the instruction of native females. In June, 1824, he began his exten- sive visitation, accompanied only by his domestic chap- lain and his native servants. His talents and his virtues made a deep impression in every place he visited ; he did not confine himself to the discharge of his episcopal duties, but carefully examined the state of the Hindoos under British rule, and pointed out to the government the best means of ameliorating their condition. In the course of his journey he visited Ceylon, and the follow- ing interesting account of the effect his presence produ- ced in that island, was published in the Report of the Church Missionary Society of Calcutta : — " The Bishop of Calcutta, in his visitations, inspected the schools, confirmed the native Christians, and admin- istered the sacrament, manifesting in eveiy place the liveliest interest in the missionary cause, and gladdening the Church by his presence. The native Christians BISHOP HEBER. 209 have thus, for the first time, been brought into close and understood connection with our episcopal head ; for it was his practice at every station to administer the sa- cred elements to them, and pronounce the blessing in their own language, thus teaching them to regard him as their chief pastor, and winning them, in all other respects, by the most affectionate, conciliatory, and im- pressive address. A year, thus distinguished, can never be effaced from their minds ; they have learned to ap- preciate the privilege of being united in one body, ac- cording to the scriptural form and discipline of the English church." In February, 1826, Bishop Heber proceeded to the Madras Presidency, which he had been prevented from visiting in his former tour by the lateness of the season. His great exertions in this journey had a fatal effect on his health ; he died suddenly on the 3d of April, at Tri- chinopoly, while taking a cold bath. The feelings which his loss produced are thus de- scribed by his friend and companion Mr. Robinson, in a letter to the Society for promoting Christian Know- The Society will have participated largely in the feeling of universal sorrow, on the sudden removal of our excellent and amiable bishop from this field of his earthly labors ; and, when they learn that their missions in the south of India were his last and most anxious care, — that being thus engaged in his visitation of the peninsula, the last weeks of his invaluable life had been employed, with unremitting activity, in a minute inves- tigation of their actual state, and in devising new plans for their extended operation and future welfare, they will feel, I am persuaded, that their share in the gene- ral loss is gi-eat indeed. There is hardly a town in this vast empire where he was not known, not one where his name was not loved and honored ; but in no prov- ince is his loss so severely felt as in that which witness- ed his last labors among the humblest and poorest of his flock, the native Christians of Tanjore and Trichino- poly." It has been the lot of few to inspire such general re- spect, veneration, and affection as the lamented Bishop 14 S3 210 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Heber did. Indeed, to know him was to love him ; and in him the genius of true Christianity might be seen at once reflected, for he was mild and kind, and breathed peace and good-will among men ; he was a model of spiritual exaltation without pride, and of elevated virtue without austerity. Nor was it by his own flock alone that this good shepherd was beloved in life and lamented in death. All sects of Christians held him in the high- est estimation. In this sentiment they were joined by the natives of India who had an opportunity of apprecia- ting his character, and who, if they could not become his proselytes, were the unfeigned admirers of his tole- rance, benignity, and charity, and hold his memory in the highest reverence. To his premature death may be applied Montgome- ry's lines : — " Revolving his mysterious lot, We mourn him, but we praise him not, — Glory to God be given ; Who sent him, like the ethereal bow, His covenant of grace to show, Athwart amid the storm to glow, Then vanish into heaven." JOHN HOWARD. It is one of the proudest boasts of England, that no country has produced an equal number of men who have devoted their lives to the cause of general hu- manity, and sacrificed the ordinary objects of a-mbition to promote the welfare of their fellow-creatures, without any distinction of creed, color, or country. One of the most illusti-ious of this noble band was John Howard, the only son of a carpet- warehouseman, m London. He was born at Hackney in 1727, and was educated in the sti-ict principles of the Non-conformists, to which body his father belonged. More care was taken to secure his moral and religious principles than to instruct him in general literature, with the rudiments of which he ever remained imperfectly acquainted. Indeed, his education was early interrupted by his father's death, —those to whose care he was intrusted having bound him apprentice to a wholesale grocer. His health sut- fered severely from a mode of life to which he had not been accustomed. He devised a remedy for himself a system of rigid abstinence : at the age of sixteen he abandoned the use of animal food and of strong liquors ; and during the whole course of his career he persevered in using only the most meager diet. As he approached manhood he felt his dislike for business increase ; and as he had inherited a considerable fortune h-om his father, he purchased up his indentures, and set out on a tour through France and Italy. He returned home in a very feeble state of health: his weakness, his love of retirement and study, and his sti-ong love of natural 212 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. scenery, induced him to quit the metropolis, and take lodgings in the house of Mrs. Lardeau, a widow, who resided at Stoke Newington. Here he was attacked by a dangerous fever, but was so carefully and tenderly nursed by his landlady, that he recovered, contrary to the expectation of the physicians. He felt so grateful to Mrs. Lardeau that he oft'ered her his hand, and, though many years older than himself, she became his wife. At the same time he evinced his usual generosity by settling the fortune to which the lady was entitled upon her sister. This union only lasted three years ; the lady died rather suddenly, and Howard, to divert his gi'ief, re- solved, in 1756, to visit Portugal, and examine the effects of the dreadful earthquake which had laid waste the city of Lisbon. On the voyage, the^ vessel in which he sailed was captured by a French privateer, and the crew was carried into Brest. The prisoners were ti-eated with great cruelty by their captors : they were kept more than forty hours without water, suffering all the agonies of burning thirst, and were then thrown into a loathsome prison, destitute of the means for proper light, drainage, and ventilation. His sufferings awakened his sympathies peculiarly in favor of pris- oners ; he collected accurate information of the treat- ment of his countrymen in Morlaix, and other depots for prisoners of war, which he transmitted to the British ministers. A remonstrance on the subject was addressed to the French government, and was so far effectual that prisoners were treated with greater hu- manity during the rest of the war. After his release, Mr. Howard made a tour in Italy, but preserved no memorial of his travels. On his re- turn to England he married a second time, but his wife died early, leaving him an only son. To the education of this child he resolved to devote his time ; but he adopted a rigid severity of discipline, which was quite unsuited to the boy's disposition, and which finally made a wrerk of his mind. In 1773 Mr. Howard became sheriff of Bedfordshire, an office which, to use his own words, "brought the distress of prisoners more immediately under his notice." Finding that JOHN HOWARD. 213 many abuses prevailed which he did not know how to remedy, he made a tour of inspection to the principal jails and houses of correction in England, examining the different systems established in each, and comparing their several defects and advantages. The state of prisons in England was at this time truly deplorable : there was no classification of prisoners ; the sanatory regulations for cleanliness and ventilation were inefficient in themselves, and still more imperfectly enforced; con- tagious diseases of the most fatal kinds were generated, which often proved desti-uctive, not only to the inmates of jails, but to the functionaries employed in the admin- istration of justice. At length the government became alarmed, and a committee of the House of Commons was appointed to investigate the subject in 1774. Mr. Howard was examined before the committee ; he pre- sented them a mass of the most valuable and accurate information, for which he was rewarded by the unani- mous thanks of the house. It was principally on his recommendation that acts were passed in this sesssion to relieve acquitted prisoners from the payment of fees, and to establish sanatoiy regulations for the health of prisoners. Thus encouraged, Mr. Howard resolved to pursue the new path of philanthropy which lay open before him. It cost him, however, a great effort to quit his home at Cardington; he had there put in practice the schemes he had devised for promoting the welfare of his tenants by building them comfoitable cottages, and attaching to each a patch of ground for a garden. He had erected schools for the industrial as well as the literary education of children of both sexes, and had taken an active part in promoting hospitals and other useful institutions. He was also much attached to horticulture, and the study of the physical sciences, frequently communicating the results of his observations to the Royal Society, of which he was a member. It was, however, said, that he made too little allowance for the frailties of human nature, and that he was as harsh to those who had swei-ved from his rigid rule of rectitude as he was generous to the objects of hia peculiar benevolence. There was, no doubt, a strong 214 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tinge of obstinacy in his character ; for, when he was resisted in some details of the plan he had formed for penitentiaries, he resigned the office of supervisor of those establishments, to which he had been appointed by the personal favor of his sovereign. The death of his sister having made a large addition to his fortune, he looked upon the event as a special in- terposition of Providence to aid the benevolent designs he had formed. He therefore resumed his inspection of British prisons, and extended his researches into foreign countries. It may serve to give some notion of his la- bors, to state that in addition to his numerous tours through Great Britain, between the years 1775 and 1787, he traveled three times through France, four times through Germany, five times through Holland, twice through Italy, once through Spain and Portugal, and once through the northern provinces of Turkey. He published an account of Enghsh prisons in 1777, with a great number of illustrative plates, and to insure its circulation he fixed the price so low that the cost of the plates was defrayed out of his own pockets. He adopted the same course with his Appendix on the State of Foreign Prisons, and both publications produced a strong impression on the mind of the country. The strong good sense and moderation of his narrative, con- trasted with the enthusiastic ardor which alone could have supported him in such an undertaking, gave unex- ampled weight to his recommendations. Parliament passed an act for establishing houses of correction, in which his proposed ameliorations of discipline were adopted. But while engaged in examining the state of prisons, his attention was directed to hospitals, and other charitable institutions, where great abuses prevailed. He was the first to point out the serious evils which were permitted in the charter-schools of Ireland, evils which rendered these institutions almost a national nui- sance. In 1784 Howard republished his first works on pris- ons, with an Appendix containing all the additional in- formation he had acquired. The task which he had prescribed to himself was completed ; his fame as a philanthropist was so established that a subscription had JOHN HOWARD. 215 been raised to erect his statue, and the design was aban- doned only in consequence of his own urgent remon- strances. His prison reforms had not only been adopted in England, but had been imitated by the principal pow- ers on the Continent. Still he deemed that humanity had further claims on his attention. The progi-ess of contagion in prisons and hospitals had so frequently come under his notice that he resolved to study the means by which it might be most effectually checked ; and for this purpose he resolved to observe what was deemed the most contagious of all disorders — the plague. He set out on this expedition in 1785, unaccompanied by a single ser- vant, because he did not think it justifiable to expose to similai- dangers any one who was not supported by the same motives as himself. His tour extended through the south of France, and Italy, whence he pursued his way to Malta, Zante, Smyrna, and Constantinople. From the latter capital he returned to Smyrna, having heard that the plague raged there, for the purpose of going to Venice with a foul bill of health, so that he might be subjected to all the rigors of quarantine in the lazaretto, and thus become practically acquainted with its rules and regulations. Having gone through this ordeal, he returned to England through Vienna, where he had an interview with the Emperor Joseph, a mon- arch who with all his faults took a lively interest in every scheme of practical benevolence. While preparing his work on Lazarettos for the press, he again revisited the prisons and hospitals of England and Ireland, where he had the satisfaction to find that many great improvements had been made. His literaiy labor occupied him for more than a year, but he had the satisfaction to find that it was received with great avidity. In the conclusion of this work he announced his inten- tion of extending his researches to Russia, Turkey, and Western Asia. " I am not insensible," said he, " of the dangers that must attend such a journey. Trusting, however, in the protection of that kind Providence which has hitherto preserved me, I calmly and cheerfully commit myself to the disposal of unerring Wisdom. Should it please God to cut off my life in the prosecution of this design, 216 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. let not my conduct be uncandidly imputed to rashness or enthusiasm, but to a serious, deliberate conviction that 1 am pursuing the path of duty, and to a sincere desire of being made an instrument of more extended usefulness to my fellow-creatures than could be expected in the narrower cu'cles of a retired life." Many of Howard's friends endeavored to dissuade him from this his last journey ; but the confirmed in- sanity of his son had rendered home distasteful, and he naturally sought relief in pursuing those inquiries which habit had invested with peculiar attractions. He quitted England in the summer of 1789, and pro- ceeded through Germany to St. Petersburgh and Mos- cow. The prisons and hospitals were everyw^here freely thrown open to his inspection, as if his seli-chosen office of censor of such establishments had been recognized by the civilized world. After a short stay at Moscow he proceeded to the Russian settlements on the Black Sea, and reached Cherson when the place was suffering from a fever of the most malignant kind. Among its victims was a young lady, whom he visited because he believed that he possessed some medical skill, but he caught the infection himself, and died January 20, 1790. The Russian authorities paid all possible honors to his mem- ory ; his death, contraiy to all precedent, was announced in the " London Gazette," and a splendid monument was erected to commemorate his benevolent deeds in St. Paul's Cathedral^ by his admiring countrymen. The bare recital of Howard's actions renders any eulogium on his character unnecessary ; he may be said literally to have lived for mankind ; in all his labors he showed aji utter forgetfulness of self, and in the last scene of his hfe he exhibited the finnne&s af a philosopher united to the piety of a Christian. DR. JENNER. Few diseases have been more completely subjected to medical skill than the small-pox, which at the begin- ning of the present century was calculated to have de- stroyed one out of every ten children that came mto the world, while on many of those who survived, it left dis- figuring and almost disgusting marks, which were never efl'aced during their hves. An antidote has been discov- ered, which, though not in all instances perfectly effica- cious, affords complete security to far the greater num- ber, and even in the exceptional cases diminishes the virulence and abates the danger. This antidote has received the name of vaccination, because it consists in giving the patient an artificial disease by inoculation with matter taken from a cow, and this is found to check, and almost to prevent the susceptibility of the frame for the perilous small-pox. Edward Jenner, the author of this precious discovery, was the third son of a clergyman, who held the vicarage of Berkeley, in Gloucestershire, where he was born May 17th, 1749. His father died in 1754, but his elder brother, Stephen, undertook the care of his education, and faithfully discharged the duties of a parent toward him. At a very early age he evinced such a fondness and aptitude for the study of Natural Histoiy, that his family resolved to bring him up to the medical profession, and at the usual age he was apprenticed to Mr. Ludlow, a surgeon practicing at Lodbury, near Bristol. Having completed his course under this gentleman, he came to London and placed himself under the tuition of the T 218 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. eminent John Hunter, in whose house he resided as a friend rather than a pupil, for more than two years. The intimacy thus formed continued until Hunter's death ; they maintained a coiTespondence on facts and experiments in natural history, in which both showed equal zeal and ability for the advancement of that sci- ence. In consequence of the knowledge which Jenner displayed, he was appointed, on Hunter's recommenda- tion, to superintend the ai'rangeinent of the collections in natural history which had been made by Sir Joseph Banks during Captain Cook's first voyage round the world. He performed this task so well, that he was offered the situation of naturalist in the second expedi- tion sent out under that eminent navigator ; though this proposal must have been highly gi'atifying to so young a man, and the situation would have afforded him unri- valed opportunities for the pursuit of his favorite studies, he declined it, as he did several other offers of a similar nature. He was requested to accept a very lucrative situation in India ; he was invited by Hunter to join in establishing a school of natural histoiy and medicine in London ; but he preferred the secluded life of a medical practitioner in a rural district, and estabhshed himself at Berkeley, in the Vale of Gloucester. It has been as- serted, and we believe with truth, that he had, even at this early age, obtained some clue to the discovery which has immortalized his name, and that he was anxious to obtain the leisure and retirement necessary for a series of experiments which must, to prove decisive, spread over a great number of years. Jenner's residence at Berkeley was so tranquil and unostentatious as to present little which can furnish materials to biogi-aphy. He was admired by a large circle of friends, regarded as the best physician in the neighborhood, and courted by all the lovei-s of science in the West of England. His chief amusement was natu- ral histoiy, including geology, a science then in its in- fancy, for the study of which the Vale of Gloucester afforded ample opportunities, the neighborhood abound- ing with fossil remains, and exhibiting a great variety of ten*estrial sti'ucture in the dislocations of its sti-atifica- tion. He was also a member of two medical societies DR. JENNER. 219 which had been formed in his neighborhood, and it is said that he so often inti'oduced the subject of vaccina- tion, as to induce the members to pass a rule prohibiting the inti-oduction of the topic. Nor were they alone in their skepticism ; Hunter recommended his friend not to risk his reputation by publishing what appeared to be a vague speculation. He had at this time acquired great fame by an essay on the Habits of the Cuckoo, the re- sult of several years of observation, which was printed in the Transactions of the Royal Society, and procured for the author admission to that scientific body. In March, 1788, he married Miss Kingcote, by whom he had several children, and rarely has there been a union more productive of domestic happiness. We come now to speak of the great medical discovery which has immortalized his name. Early in the eigh- teenth century Lady Mary Wortley Montague had in- troduced the practice of inoculation into England, and it was found that the small-pox, thus artificially com- municated, was less fatal and less injurious than when taken from infection. It had also been long observed that persons employed in the milking of cows were very rarely attacked by the small-pox, but that they took from the animals a milder disease, which was familiarly known by the name of cow-pox. This was a milder disease, communicated by an erup- tion of vesicles, which occasionally appears on the ud- ders of cows, to the hands of the milkers. Jenner's patient observations showed him, that, to communicate cow-pox, the matter or lymph contained in these vesi- cles must be actually inserted under the skin, or appUed to a raw and absorbing surface ; and that the disease thus communicated had the peculiarity of affording se- curity against the infection of the small-pox. The notion of introducing an animal disease into the human frame was so opposed to all former systems of medical prac- tice, that, though Jenner had communicated his discov- ery to Hunter in 1770, thirty years elapsed before it was adopted in general practice, and twenty-six years before its efficacy was tested by direct experiment. On the 14th of May, 1796, a day which is still cele- brated as a festival in Berlin and other continental cities. 220 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. an opportunity was afforded him of subjecting his long- cherished idea to an experimental trial. On that day- he inoculated a boy of the name of Phipps, in the arm, from a pustule on the hand of a young woman who was infected by her master's cows. The disease took, and the boy went through it favorably. On the 1st of the following July he was inoculated for the small-pox, and, as Jenner had predicted, was found not to be suscepti- ble of infection. The feelings of the sanguine philan- thropist on this occasion may best be described by him- self: — '"While the vaccine discovery was progressive, the joy I felt at the prospect of being the instrument destined to take away from the woi*ld one of its greatest calamities, blended with the fond hope of enjoying inde- pendence, and domestic peace and happiness, was often so excessive, that, in pursuing my favorite subject among the meadows, I have often found myself in a reverie. It is pleeisant to me to recollect that these reflections always ended in devout acknowledgments to that Being from whom this and all other mercies flow." In June, 1798, Jenner published his discovery to the world, accompanied by a detail of several cases illustrat- ing its efficiency. The clear and modest style of his pamphlet, and the undeniable facts which it detailed, soon won public attention, and in 1799 the practice of vaccination was firmly established in London. It must be confessed that subsequent experience has shown the protection not to be quite so complete as Jenner had be- lieved. But while the rate of mortality from variolous disease is among the vaccinated not more than three in 2,000, among the inoculated it amounted to more than forty in 2,000. In 1802 a parliamentary inquiry was instituted into the value of the new method of preventing the small- pox, including Jenner's claims to the merits of the dis- covery. The result was so satisfactory, that a grant of 10,000Z. was voted to him as a tribute of national gi*ati- tude. Five years after, when it appeared from experi- ence that vaccination had been the means of saving 45,000 lives annually in England alone, and had saved a still larger number from the disfiguring effects of a dis- gusting and dreadful malady, he received an additional DR. JENNER. 221 grant of 20,000^.; and seldom has public money been more honorably bestowed, or more worthily earned. Neither the fame he had acquired, the wealth he had received, nor the honors which were offered to him in abundance, could withdraw Jenner from his retirement at Berkeley. He remained there in the enjoyment of rural life and domestic happiness, until he was overtaken by death, February, 1823, in the 74th year of his age. An institution for the encouragement of vaccination was established in London, which still continues to dif- fuse the blessings of this precious antidote to the destruc- tive small-pox, at the public charge. On the Continent the extension of vaccination is deemed an object worthy the special attention of the government, and the diminu- tion of mortality from the small-pox is, therefore, more striking in many parts of Europe than it is in England. Recently, however, the extension of vaccination has en- gaged a larger share of the cares of government, and we may be permitted to hope that the ravages of small-pox will only be known through history to the next gen- eration. t2 SIR WILLIAM JONES. The cultivation of oriental literature has been com- paratively neglected in England, though the magnitude of our East Indian possessions gives it higher importance in this countiy than in any other part of Europe. It is chiefly owing to the exertions and example of Sir Wil- liam Jones that the literary treasures of Arabia, Persia, and India have been opened to English students ; and it should enhance our gratitude for such services, that they were achieved while their author performed the labori- ous duties of an upright magisti'ate, and an enlightened benefactor of the native population of Hindostan. This eminent personage was born in London, September 20th, 1746. His father, who had attained such emi- nence as a mathematician as to be associated with the labors of Newton, died before the child attained his third year ; the care of his early education then devolved on his mother, a lady equally eminent for her virtues and her talents, who devoted herself to the task with equal zeal and prudence. From her the youth acquired that thirst for learning and facility of profitable application, by which he was distinguished through the whole of his useful life. He repaid her care with the most ardent filial affection, and while she sui-vived, exhibited towai'd her the most grateful and undeviating respect. At the early age of seven he was sent to Hari'ow. He did not exhibit any exti-aordinary quickness of parts, but was distinguished rather for steadiness and perseverance, by which he ti'iumphed over the preliminary difficulties in the study of the learned languages. When he had SIR WILLIAM JONES. 223 triumphed over these, his progress became singularly rapid ; he not only acquired a deeper knowledge of clas- sical literature than is usual with schoolboys, but ac- quired the French and Italian languages, and made some progress in the study of Hebrew and Arabic. He entered University College, Oxford, in 1764, and so far outstripped his competitors, that he was elected to a fellowship before he was of sufficient standing to graduate as a Bachelor of Arts. Oriental literature, then a very rare acquirement in England, was his favor- ite pursuit. He maintained out of his slender funds at Oxford a native Syrian, with whom he had accidentally become acquainted in London, under whose insti'uction he became a proficient in the Arabic, after which he proceeded to the study of the Persian language. The office of private tutor in the family of Earl Spencer, which he accepted in 1756, aiforded him valuable oppor- tunities for pursuing his favorite studies. His pupil was too young to engage much of his time, and he had leis- ure to profit by the valuable library of Althorpe, Earl Spencer's seat, and by occasional visits to London and the Continent. In 1768 the King of Denmark transmitted to the English government a Persian Life of Nadir Shah, which he was anxious to have translated. The task was assigned to Mr. Jones, who was not more than two- and-twenty ; he showed his powers over two foreign languages, by translating the work into French, and pre- fixing to it, in the same language, "A treatise on Orien- tal Poetry," in which several of the odes of Hafiz are rendered into verse. This work excited more attention on the Continent than in England, and it holds a distin- guished rank in French literature at the present day. This was followed by his " Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry," wi-itten in Latin, which is one of the most classical productions in that language which has come from the pen of a modern author. A love of independence was a marked feature in the character of Mr. Jones ; he resigned his situation in the Spencer family, which was certain to lead to ease and competence ; but he retained the affection and respect of his pupil, who never ceased to regard him as a friend. 224 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. He fearlessly advocated opinions not calculated to facili- tate his advancement ; he denounced the American war before it had become unpopular with the great majority of the nation ; he was an early and zealous advocate of reform in Parliament; and he exposed the abominations of the slave-trade with the greatest zeal and energy. When he became a member of the Middle Temple in 1770, he deemed it necessary to relax his oriental pur- suits, in order to devote the requisite attention to his professional studies ; but he, nevertheless, translated the " Moallakat," or seven ancient Arabic poems, which on account of their merit had been suspended in the Tem- ple of Mecca, and he produced some pieces of original poetry, remarkable for purity and vigor of expression. In 1778 he published a work, which showed that he had not laid aside his classical tastes, but had found a means of combining them with the study of jurispru- dence ; we allude to his translation of the orations of Isaeus, which relate to the common law of Athens, par- ticularly in regard to the succession to propeity. This was a subject which seems to have engi'ossed a large share of his attention, and it is believed that he intended to have prepared an extensive survey of the various laws of succession that have been adopted by various ages and nations, with special reference to the ameliora- tion of the customs by which succession is regulated in England ; but he pursued the subject no further than the publication of two translations of Arabic works on the Mohammedan law of inheritance. Nearly at the same time he published an essay on the " Law of Bail- ments," probably for the purpose of showing that his oriental and classical pursuits had not withdrawn his attention from his immediate profession. Mr. Jones was called to the bar in 1774, and two years afterward, by the interest of some powerful friends, was appointed a Commissioner of Bankrupts. As he was a personal friend of the premier. Lord North, he might have obtained preferment, had he not persevered in as- sailing the ministiy for provoking an insurrection in America, and for the despotic tendency of its favorite measures. He was anxious to enter Parliament, and offered himself as a candidate for the representation of sill WILLIAM JONES. 225 the University of Oxford ; but his political opinions were not calculated to win the favor of that learned body, and, though respectably supported, he did not venture to go to a poll. Thus disappointed, he fixed his mind on India, where he became anxious to obtain a judicial appointment ; but his politics were obnoxious to the party in power, and the object of his wishes was not obtained until after the formation of the Shelburne ministry. On the 3d of March, 1783, he was appointed to the bench of the Supreme Court of Calcutta, to which he was warmly recommended by Lord Ashbur- ton, who, as Mr. Dunning, had acquired the reputation of being the best lawyer in England. Having thus se- cured competency, he married Miss Shipley, the daugh- ter of the Bishop of St. Asaph, a lady to whom he had been long attached, but had deferred his union until his circumstances would enable him to support a family. In the preceding year he had written an " Essay on the Principle of Government, in a dialogue between a Farmer and a Country Gentleman ;" it was a bold and fearless discussion of constitutional questions, but exhib- ited something of a leaning toward republican principles. The Dean of St. Asaph, the brotlier-in-law of the au- thor, having reprinted this work, was indicted for libel ; and it was in defending his case that Erskine first estab- lished his professional reputation. Sir William Jones, having received the honor of knighthood on his promotion to the bench, sailed for Calcutta, where he arrived in December, 1783. Pre- vious to his appointment, the judges of the Supreme Court, though bound to adjudicate according to the native laws, were for the most part utterly ignorant of the language in which these laws were written. Hence they were compelled to have recourse to native lawyers, called pundits, who were regularly attached to the courts in the capacity of assessors. Many of these were mercenary and corrupt men, who designedly mis- led the English judges, and, by misrepresenting the law. frequently made them the instruments of great injustice. Sir W. Jones declared that "he could not, with an easy conscience, concur in any decision, merely on the writ- ten opinion of native lawyers, in a case in which they 15 226 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. could have the remotest interest in misleading the court." The obvious remedy was to procure an English translation of the code of Hindoo laws, and this task had been undertaken by Mr. Halhed ; but as this gentle- man was ignorant of Sanscrit, he had taken for his au- thority a defective Persion version of the original, which had been compiled by the order of the emperors of Delhi for the use of their Mohammedan judges. The Persian ti-anslator had endeavored to bring the Hindoo Institutes into harmony with those of the Koran, and had made so many changes for this purpose, that the work was quite destitute of authority. To remedy this evil, Sir W. Jones, in addition to his heavy judicial labors, com- menced the study of Sanscrit, and, after five years of unremitting toil, made himself master of that most diffi- cult language. He then commenced his greatest work, a translation of " The Ordinances of Menu," which he describes in his preface as a " system of duties religious and civil, and of law in all its branches, which the Hin- doos firmly believe to have been promulgated in the be- ginning of time by Menu, son or gi-andson of Brahma, or, in plain language, the first of created beings, and not the oldest only, but the holiest of legislators — a system so comprehensive, and so minutely exact, that it may be considered as the Institutes of Hindoo law, preparatory to the copious digest which has lately been prepared by pundits of eminent learning." This was his last work ; for though begun in 1780, it was not completed and published until 1794, a short time before the author's death. The Asiatic Society of Calcutta, the parent of similar societies in most European capitals, was founded by Sir William Jones ; he was its first president, and held that office during his life. In this capacity he delivered eleven anniversaiy addresses in successive years, which continue to be an unrivaled collection of well-digested information respecting the antiquities, arts, and history of Asiatic nations. As a taste for oriental studies began to be diffused, Sir W. Jones saw that gi-eat inconve- nience would arise, unless some uniform system should be adopted for correctly representing Asiatic alphabets SIR WILLIAM JONES. 227 in Roman characters. The plan which he devised for this purpose is far the best that has ever been produced ; but, unfortunately, too many have preferred schemes of their own, and so disfigured oriental names, as to render their identification a matter of great difificulty. The system of Sir William Jones is that which has been adopted by the Oriental Translation Committee, and by the most eminent scholars on the Continent. Sir W. Jones was the first who called attention to the Hindoo drama ; he translated the drama of " Sacontala; or, the Fatal Ring," supposed to have been composed in the century preceding the Christian era. It contains a lively, simple, and pleasing picture of the manners of Hindostan at a remote age. In later times, the best of the Indian theatrical pieces have been selected and pub- lished by Professor H. H. Wilson, whose contributions to oriental literature have not been surpassed in number or value by any of the present generation. Botany was one of the favorite pursuits of Sir Wil- liam Jones, and the taste which he introduced for this study in Calcutta still continues to prevail. Poetry was sought as a relaxation from his graver studies, and the pieces which he pubhshed in the " Asiatic Miscellany" display a rich fancy, united to great harmony of compo- sition. In private life he was beloved by aU who ob- tained the favor of his acquaintance, and, as he was very hospitable and easy of access, his circle was very large. The indisposition of Lady Jones, in 1793, rendered it necessary that she should return to England ; her aflfec- tionate husband remained behind, in the hope of com- pleting his great task, the " Digest of the Hindoo Laws." But his arduous labors in this torrid climate had proved too much for his strength ; he was seized with inflam- matory disease, and died April 27th, 1794. Few men have acquired such extensive knowledge of foreign languages and foreign literature as Sir Wil- liam Jones. A hst preserved in his own handwriting, thus classes those with which he was in any degree acquainted; they are twenty-eight in number: — "Eight languages studied critically: English, Latin, French, Italian, Greek, Arabic, Persian, Sanscrit. Eight studied less perfectly, but all intelligible with a 228 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. dictionary : Spanish, Portuguese, German, Runic, He- brew. Bengali, Hindi, Turlcish. Twelve studied less perfectly, but all attainable : Tibetian, Pall, Deri, Pah- .iar, Russian, Syriac, Ethiopic, Coptic, Welsh, Sweed- ish, Dutch. Chinese." His works exhibit an unrivaled mastery over a vast variety of subjects, and the elegance of his style gives interest to the most recondite of his dissertations. These are his best, but not his only monuments ; a statue was erected to his memory in St. Paul's Cathe- dral, at the expense of the East India Company, and a tablet, recording his virtues, has been erected in Uni- versity College, Oxford. We cannot better conclude, than by ti-anscribing the affectionate panegyric pro- nounced on this gi-eat man by one of his earliest friends, Dr. Bennet, Bishop of Cloyne, a see recently suppressed in Ireland. " I knew him from the early age of eight or nine, and he was always an uncommon boy. Great abilities, great peculiarities of thinking, fondness for wi*iting verses and plays of various kinds, and a degree of in- tegrity and manly courage, of which I remember many instances, distinguished him even at that period. I loved and revered him, and, though one or two years older than he was, was always instructed by him from my earliest age. In a word, I can only say of this wonderful man, that he had more virtues and less faults than I ever yet saw in any human being ; and that the goodness of his head, admirable as it was, was exceeded by that of his heart. I have never ceased to admire him from the moment I first saw him ; and my esteem for his great qualities, and regret for his loss, will only cease with my life." SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. The life of a man who possessed great abilities and gi-eat opportunities, but who, neither as an author nor a statesman, effected any great work or object, may seem to possess little interest. But there are men whose indirect influence has gi-eat effect in directing public opinion, whose efforts, though desultory and irregular, give impulses which set thought in motion, and become guides in the formation of opinion, though their agency cannot always be clearly traced. Such appears to have been the fate of Mackintosh ; few of his performances came up to the promise of his powers, or the expecta- tions of his friends ; and yet his failures gave abundant proof that it was in his power to realize both. He was born near Inverness, October 24th, 1765, and, his father being abroad on military service, was educated in his tender years by his mother and his aunts. Little is known of his early progress ; he was sent to a pro- vincial school, where he acquired the usual rudiments of learning, but at the same time formed those habits of desultory reading and iiTegular study which are so often found fatal to the brightest talents. In 1780 he went to college at Aberdeen, where he made the acquaintance of Robert Hall, afterwards the most eminent of modern dissenting divines. Both had a marked taste for metaphysical speculations and in- quiries, but Mackintosh was more disposed to investi- gate the progi-ess of philosophical ooinion in tne history of manlund, while Hall was more mclined to study the analysis of individual mind. 230 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Their disputations on the most abstruse subjects of metaphysics were mutually advantageous, and their veiy dissimilarity of disposition called into action facul- ties of thought which might othei-wise have lain dor- mant. Mackintosh was anxious to enter the legal profession, but his father's fortune being deemed inadequate to meet the hazard of so uncertain a pursuit, he went to Edinburgh, in 1784, to study medicine. He had pre- viously formed stronger political opinions than are usually found at so early an age, and this circumstance facilitated his introduction to the leading Whigs of the Scottish metropolis, most of whom were eminent for their attainments in science or hterature. A taste for study was then fashionable in Edinburgh. Sir James Mackintosh in a later day wrote, " I am not ignorant of what Edinburgh then was ; I may truly say that it is not easy to conceive a university where industry was more general, where reading was more fashionable, where indolence and ignorance were more disrepu- table." "But," he adds, "accurate and applicable knowledge were deserted for speculations not suscep- tible of certainty, nor of any immediate reference to the purposes of life. Strength was exhausted in vain leaps to catch what is too high for our reach. Youth, the season of humble diligence, was often wasted in vast and fruitless projects. Speculators could not re- main submissive learners." Having taken his medical degi-ee with some distinc- tion. Mackintosh came to reside in London. His father's death, which took place in the same year, 1788, did not add much to his income, and an early marriage with Miss Catherine Stuart seemed likely to aggravate his difficulties. Fortunately, the lady pos- sessed the firmness of mind and the prudential care in which her husband was deficient; she stimulated him to exertion, cheered his efforts, and studied every means of rousing him to the habitual and methodical exercise of his faculties. After some vain efl^brts to establish himself in the medical profession, Mackintosh resolved to turn his attention to the bar, and at the same time he made SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 231 some addition to his income by writing for the news- papers. Dm-ing a short visit to the continent, he had directed his attention to the political condition of Em-ope, then little understood in England, and had felt an ardent admiration of the earlier stages of the French revolu- tion, and the first proceedings of the States General. When Burke's celebrated Reflections appeared, in which the French revolution and its authors were denounced with unexampled vehemence and severity, Mackintosh was one of the many who entered the field as an antagonist to the great statesman, and he was the only one whose reply produced a strong impression on the public mind. His Vindicice Gallicce rivaled Burke's great work in beauty of style and felicity of illustration ; it was indeed less eloquent, but it was more logical, — less ardent, but more classical. Unlike other conti-o- versialists, Mackintosh evinced sincere respect for the talents and virtues of his opponent; Burke himself read the work with pleasure, and became the firm friend of his honorable adversary. The Vindicice Gallicce brought Mackintosh into inti- mate acquaintance with Fox and the other leaders of the Whig party, but the progi-ess of events in France soon showed that Burke was the better prophet, and Mackintosh was exposed to much obloquy when those whom he had so eagerly defended, suUied themselves by atrocious crimes. Having paid great attention to the study of the law of nations, he proposed to deliver a course of lectures on the subject at Lincoln's Inn ; but the benchers long opposed the project, believing that he might avail himself of such an opportunity to dissemmate revolutionary principles. When, however, he published what he had intended to be his introductory lecture, under the title of a Discourse on the Law of Nature and Nations, it was found that such apprehensions were wholly groundless; the cruelties which had followed the French revolution not only abated his ardor for that event, but led him to expose the delusiveness of the expectations which he had himself formed. Some violent members of the opposition went so far as to accuse him of apostasy, but this was a gi-oundless charge, for he continued to support the true principles 232 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH, of liberty, while he denounced licentiousness. His lec- tures were universally admired; Fox and Pitt united in complimenting him, the latter declaring that " he had never met anything so able or so elegant on the subject in any language." Having lost his first wife immediately after his being called to the bar, he formed a second man-iage in 1798 with Miss Allen, a lady of ancient family in Wales. This union was as happy as the first, and he found that domestic happiness gave support and encouragement to public exertion. In 1800, he delivered the speech at the bar which is usually regarded as the highest eflfort of his genius. It was in defence of Peltier, a French emigrant who had published some bitter libels on Napoleon Bo- naparte, and had been in consequence prosecuted at the request of the French government. Though one of the most magnificent orations ever made at the bar, it must be confessed that the speech is rather an eloquent pane- gyric on the liberty of the press, that a successful de- fence of the accused. Its conclusion deserves to be quoted, not only as a specimen of the orator's great powers, but also of his manly spirit and independence. " In the court where we are now met," said he, " Cromwell twice sent a satirist on his tyranny to be convicted and punished as a libeler ; and in this court, almost in sight of the scafltbld streaming with the blood of his sovereign, within hearing of the clash of his bayo- nets, which drove out Parliaments with contumely, two successive juries rescued the inti-epid satirist from his fangs, and sent out with defeat and disgiace the usurper's attorney-general, from what he had the in- solence to call his court. Even then, gentlemen, when all law and liberty were ti-ampled under the feet of a military banditti — when those great crimes were per- petrated, on a high plan and with a high hand, against those who were the objects of public veneration, which more than anything else upon earth overwhelm the minds of men, break their spirits, and confound their moral sentiments, obliterate the distinction between right and wrong in the understanding, and teach the multitude to feel no longer any reverence for the justice which they see thus triumphantly dragged at the chariot SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 233 wheels of a tyrant — even then, when this unhappy countiy, triumphant indeed abroad, but enslaved at home, had no prospect but that of a long succession of tyrants wading through slaughter to a throne — even then, I say, when all seemed lost, the unconquerable spirit of English liberty survived in the hearts of Eng- lish jurors. That spirit is, I trust in God, not extinct ; and if any modern tyrant were, in the drunkenness of his insolence, to hope to awe an English jury, I ti'ust and believe that they would tell him, ' Our ancestors braved the bayonets of Cromwell, we bid defiance to yours ;' Contempsi Catilince gladios, non pertimescam The gi'owing jealousy between the governments of France and England, which soon led to a renewal of hostilities, rendered Mackintosh's exposure of the ty- ranny of Napoleon very acceptable to the ministers. His former opposition was forgotten ; he received the honors of knighthood, and was appointed Recorder of Bombay. Many of his friends were averse to his ac- cepting any office under government, and others doubted the prudence of his taking a colonial appointment in a remote colony, at a time when his established reputation at the bar insured him fame and fortune. But his family was large, the recordership of Bombay did not seem likely to occupy much of his time, and he trusted to have abundant leisure for the composition of some gi'eat literary work. He was, however, disappointed ; the emoluments of his situation were less than he ex- pected, and the cost of living in India more than he had calculated. The enervating climate of the East in- creased his constitutional tendency to indolence ; and during the seven years that he remained in Bombay, though he projected many important works, he never seriously entered on the execution of any. As a judge, Sir James Mackintosh deservedly obtained a very high reputation. He diligently studied the char- acter of the natives, and labored hard to correct their prevailing vices, particularly that recklessness in bearing false testimony and committing perjury, which has ever proved the greatest obstacle to the administration of jus- tice in India. Though he always acted on the principle. u 2 234 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. that certainty of punishment is far more efficacious than severity in repressing crime, he deemed it necessary to enforce the most rigorous sentence which the law allow- ed, whenever a perjurer was convicted. His addresses from the bench were models of judicial eloquence, con- ceived in the highest tone of morality, and breathing a noble spirit of integi'ity and independence. On one oc- casion, two Dutchmen, who had been convicted before him of a conspiracy to commit murder, expecting to re- ceive sentence of death, had knives concealed on their persons for the purpose of assassinating the judge when their condemnation was pronounced. Sir James had pre- viously determined to sentence them to twelve months' imprisonment, and his knowledge of their murderous designs made no change in his resolution. But his ad- dress to them was a memorable example of dignity and self-possession. He said : — " I was employed, prison- ers, in considering the mildest judgment which public duty would allow me to pronounce on you, w^hen I learned from undoubted authority that your thoughts to me were not of the same nature. I was credibly, or rather certainly informed, that you had admitted into your minds the desperate project of desti'oying your own lives at the bar where you stand, and of signalizing your suicide by the previous destruction of at least one of your judges. If that murderous project had been ex- ecuted, I should have been the first British magistrate who ever stained with his blood the bench on which he sat to administer justice ; but I could never have died better than in the discharge of my duty. When I ac- cepted the office of a minister of justice, I knew that 1 ought to despise unpopularity and slander, and even death itself. Thank God that I do despise them ; and I solemnly assure you, that I feel more compassion for the gloomy and desperate state of mind which could harbor such projects, than resentment for that part of them which was directed against myself. I should con- sider myself as indelibly disgi-aced, if a thought of your projects against me were to influence my judgment." During his residence at Bombay, Sir James Mackin- tosh founded a literary society at that presidency, which has published some valuable volumes of transactions. SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 235 His own contributions to the history and statistics of India were very valuable, and his example induced many to profit by opportunities of study and observation which might otherwise have been neglected. He discovered the great oriental acquirements of Mr. Rich, the late consul at Bagdad, to whom he gave one of his daughters in marriage ; and he took every opportunity of bringing neglected merit under the notice of the government. Ill health having compelled Lady Mackintosh to re- turn to England with her children, Sir James, whose affections centered in the domestic circle, resigned his office to follow her, after a separation of about a year. When he reached London, he found his old friend, Mr. Percival, at the head of the administi-ation, but as he was quite opposed to the political principles of the min- istry, he made no effort to obtain office ; and when re- turned to Parhament for a Scottish county, took his place in the ranks of opposition. During the twenty years that Sir James Mackintosh sat in the House of Commons, his chief orations were directed to obtain a reform of the criminal law, a task which he is said to have received as a solemn bequest from its great originator. Sir Samuel Romilly. His most brilliant speech was delivered on the occasion of Napole- on's escape from Elba ; and many passages in his repeated attacks on the Alien Bill, and on the system of slavery, were deservedly admired. Still, he was regarded rather as an accomplished and amiable man, than as an emi- nent politician or a great statesman. Though occasion- ally eloquent, he was not a ready debater ; and in those details of legislation which arise out of the practical bu- siness of parliament, he was utterly helpless and incom- petent. Want of regularity and steadiness of pursuit until the end was obtained, prevented either himself or his party from profiting as they might have done by his eminent abilities. When Earl Grey came into power. Sir James Mackintosh only obtained an inferior place at the India House, which he had refused eighteen years before, and he seems to have acquiesced in the arrange- ment from a consciousness that his negligence and re- missness disqualified him for a more important depart- ment. 236 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Towards the close of his life he displayed more lite- rary activity than at any earlier period. But his works show rather intimations of the powers that he might have exerted, than any uniform display of eminent abil- ity. His contributions to the Edinburgh Review and to the Encyclopaedia Britannica are brilliant essays, which persevering industry might have expanded into immortal works. His fragmentary histories of England and the Revolution are too incomplete to be deemed worthy me- morials of his fame ; and yet, it is impossible to read them without being convinced that the writer possessed every attribute of a great historian except industry and perseverance. Sir James Mackintosh died on the 30th of May, 1832, from the effect of the bone of a fowl which had lodged in his throat. His friends and acquaintances sincerely lamented one who was perfect in all the relations of pri- vate life, and whose conversational powers have rarely been surpassed. Of him it can with truth be said, — He could, had he pleased it, have been a gi'eat man. REV. HENRY MARTYN, B.D. Henry Marttn, one of the most eminent of those who have devoted their hves to the missionary cause, was born at Truro, in the county of Cornwall, February 11th, 1781. His constitution in boyhood was feeble and sickly ; at school he was unable to join in the pastimes of his companions, and, Hke Cowper, he suffered much ridicule and annoyance from his more robust associates. At the age of fifteen he offered himself as a candidate for a vacant scholarship in Corpus Christi College, Ox- ford, but was unsuccessful, though he passed a veiy creditable examination. Two years afterward he went to Cambridge, where he gained the highest academical honors ; at this university he became intimate with the Reverend Mr. Simeon, from whose conversation and example he imbibed his first conceptions of the trans- cendent excellence of the Christian ministry. In March, 1802, he became a fellow of St. John's College, and in the October of the following year was admitted to holy orders. His resolution to devote his life to missionary exertions was early formed, but some difficulties im- peded him ft-om giving it immediate effect. At length, in the summer of 1805, he received an appointment as chaplain under the East India Company. The congre- gation which had been under his personal care at Cam- bridge, agreed to observe the day of his departure from England as a solemn fast, and gent him a silver compass as a memorial of their unfeigned affection. Martyn's diligence in affording religious instruction to the soldiers who went out in the same ship with him was conspicu- 23ii MoJL»EKi\ ijiari«ij pi, ltarcii. ous throughout the voyage. " I enti*eated them," said he, " even with tears, out of fei-vent love for their souls, and I could have poured away my life to have persuaded them to return to God." These soldiers were sent to conquer the Dutch colony of the Cape of Good Hope. This object was effected, and immediately after the battle, Martyn landed to offer consolation and assistance to the wounded. But he was soon summoned to resume his voyage, and his passage from the Cape to India was rendered very unpleasant by the opposition of many of the passengers to his efforts to procure the observance of religious duties. On airiving at Calcutta he fixed his residence at Al- dien near that city, in the family of the Reverend Da- vid Brown. Suttees were not then abolished, and not long after his landing he risked his life in an unsuccess- ful effort to save a Hindoo widow from being burned on her husband's funeral pile. He was soon appointed to the chaplaincy of Dinapore, and quitted his friends in Calcutta with gi-eat regret ; but his strictness had given offence to many in the city, and some even of his cleri- cal brethren joined in the attacks which began to be di- rected against him. During his voyage up the Ganges he continued his study of the native languages, and, whenever the boat stopped, he distributed religious tracts in the villages along the bank, and sought oppor- tunities of preaching Christianity to the inhabitants. On reaching Dinapore, which for a considerable time was to be his permanent residence, he resolved to establish na- tive schools — ^to prepare translations of the Scripture and religious ti'acts for distribution — and to attain such readi- ness in speaking Hindoostanee as might enable him to preach the gospel in that language. The third of these objects was the most difficult, because the dialects are numerous and various, so that the dialect of one district would be almost unintelligible to the people of another. He had not much to encourage him in the beginning of his ministiy among the Europeans at Dinapore. At first he read prayers to the soldiers at the barracks, using the long drum as a reading-desk ; and as there was no place for the men to sit, he was desired to omit the sermon. When better aiTangements were made, IIEV. IIENHV MAKTYN. 239 some of his congregation took offence at his preaching extempore, and to conciliate their prejudices he con- sented to use written sermons. An alarm was spread among the natives that he intended to compel their chil- dren to become proselytes, and his schools were imme- diately deserted. He did not, however, abandon his plans ; he collected the people, and by his temperate reasonings, and mild expostulations, so calmed their ap- prehensions that the schools were again frequented as usual. Having completed the ti'anslation of the Book of Com- mon Prayer into Hindoostanee, he commenced the per- formance of divine worship in the vernacular language of India, March 15th, 1807, concluding with an exhort- ation from scripture in the same tongue. Thence- forward he had two services every Sunday — one in the morning for Europeans, and one iti the afternoon for the Hindoos. In 1808 he completed the Hindoostanee version of the New Testament, which was published at Calcutta. In the following year he was removed to Cawnpore, where he was kindly received by Mrs. Sherwood, a lady whose pen has been often and happily employed in the cause for which Mr. Martyn lived and labored. Soon after he arrived there he preached to a thousand soldiers, drawn up in a hollow square, when the heat was so great, though the sun had not risen, that many actually dropped down, unable to support it. In consequence of his remonstrances, a promise was made that a church should be erected, but it was not fulfilled until his health was too much shaken to profit by its accomplishment. The close of the year 1809 was distinguished by Mr. Martyn's first public ministration among the heathen. He collected a crowd of mendicants, to whom he prom- ised alms, and expounded to them the elementary doc- trines of Christianity, and he continued this practice at stated intervals during the whole period of his residence at Cawnpore. At length his labors produced such an effect upon his health that he was obliged to return to Calcutta, where the physicians declared it necessary that he should go back to England. He resolved to re- turn through Persia, and on the 22d of May, 1811, he 2iO MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. landed at Bushire. His journey from this port to Shiraz was very painful, in consequence of the extraordinary heat of the season and the badness of the roads. But he recovered a little when the caravan began to ascend the Peergan mountains, though the healthy influence of a milder temperature was to some extent counteracted by the multitude of musketoes. At Shirajz he commenced his Persian version of the New Testament, but vs^as frequently interrupted by the Mohammedan doctors and students, who sought to em- barrass him with controversy. So universal a spirit of inquiry had been excited in the city of Shiraz by Mr. Maityn's frequent disputations, that the Professor of Mohammedan Law found it necessary to publish a vin- dication of his creed, to which Mr. Martyn wrote a reply, remarkable for its moderation and its discretion, as well as for the lucid airangement of its arguments. The climate of Persia seemed to agree with his con- stitution, and he passed the remainder of the year at Shiraz, where he completed his Persian translation of the New Testament. Twice he was led to discuss pub- licly the great question between Mohammedanism and Christianity ; on both occasions he manifested great in- trepidity, sustaining the cause of the gospel in the midst of a crowd of fanatics, ready at eveiy instant to murder him as a blasphemer. His mildness and temper, how- ever, allayed their violent passions, and though he made no converts, he inspired the people of Shiraz with a greater respect for Christian virtues than they had pre- viously entertained. After a residence of eleven months in the Persian capital, Martyn resumed his journey to England ; the fatigues of ti'aveling through northern Persia brought on a fresh attack of disease, which soon proved fatal. He died at Tocat, October 16th, 1812, surrounded by stran- gers, but supported through his sufferings by a con- sciousness that he had followed the example of his blessed master through life, and that in death he would reap his exceeding great reward, Martyn's abilities and learning would have raised him to high rank in the Church or in the University, had he remained in England ; but the conversion of the heathen REV. HENRY MARTYN. 241 was to him a far dearer object than worldly honors and secular rewards. The impression which his exalted piety and extended charity produced on the native pop- ulation of India, was deep and lasting ; even Moham- medans, ^vhen speaking of him, adopted tlie sentiments and almost the words of our scripture, " May we die the death of the righteous, and may our latter end be like his-" 16 X SIR JOHN MOORE, K.B. Though less successful than Nelson or Wellington, Sir John Moore has an equal right to the title of a hero — a hero in the fine old chivalric sense of the word, which required of him who would claim that epithet, to be "as tender as he was brave." His life was a career of ar- duous and unremitting exertion till its last moment ; and his heart was neither soured nor steeled by the vicis- situdes and perils he was doomed to encounter, but abounded with pure affection and generous feeling. He was born at Glasgow, November 15th, 1761 ; his father. Dr. Moore, was the author of "Edward," "Zel- uco," and some other works which hold a more peima- nent place in literature than the generality of romances. He was tutor to the young Duke of Hamilton, and took his son John with him when he accompanied that noble- man on a continental tour. Young Moore was at this time only eleven years of age, and the following anec- dote, related by his brother, will show that his warlike propensities were early developed. "Dr. Moore took his son to walk in the gardens of the Tuilleries, and while he was looking at some of the statues, John strayed aside to gaze at some French boys, whose dress diverted him. French children in those days were wont to be equipped in full formal suits, like little gentlemen ; their hair was powdered, frizzled, and curled on both sides, and a bag hung behind ; whereas Moore's dress ^vas simple, according to the custom in England ; so the contrast to each seemed preposterous. The French boys stai-ed» smiled, and chattered to each SIR JOHN MOORE. 243 Other, while Moore, not understanding a word of French, could only express his displeasure by gestures. Mutual offence was taken, and the parties proceeded to hostili- ties ; but as the French boys knew nothing of boxing, they were thrown to the ground, one across the other. Dr. Moore hearing the outcry, hastened to the scene ; he raised up the discomfited, and endeavored to appease their rage. Then he reprimanded his son for his un- mannerly rudeness, and led him back to the hotel." But the young boy gave more honorable proofs of ar- dor than pugilistic encounters. In a letter written from Geneva during the same journey, Dr. Moore gives the following interesting account of his son's proficiency : — "Jack is really a pretty youth; his face is of a manly beauty, his person is strong, and his figure very elegant ; he dances, fences, and rides with uncommon address : his mind begins to expand, and he shows a great deal of vivacity, tempered with good sense and benevolence ; he is of a daring and intrepid temper, and of an obliging disposition. He draws tolerably ; he speaks, reads, and writes French admirably well ; he has a very good no- tion of geography, arithmetic, and the easier parts of practical geometry ; he is often operating in the fields, and informs me how he would attack Geneva, and shows me the weak parts of the fortifications." This tour was extended to five years, during which time Moore acquired a large stock of general information, the more valuable, as the active duties of his subsequent life afforded him but few opportunities for study. Soon after his return to England, in 1776, he obtained the commission of ensign in the 51st foot, and was sent to Minorca, where he was trained to the forms of mili- tary discipline by the veteran General Murray. He panted, however, for more active employment ; he wrote home at a lucky moment, for his early friend the Duke of Hamilton, having just raised a regiment for immedi- ate service, was enabled to promote his former traveling companion to the rank of lieutenant, as well as to ap- point him paymaster. AVith this regiment, which the Duke of Hamilton in consequence of his maiTiage was unable to accompany, Moore embarked for Halifax, in Nova Scotia, where he was posted during the remain- 244 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. der of the American war, under the command of Briga- dier General Maclean. Here he had few opportunities of distinguishing himself in actual service, but he dis- played both skiU and courage in an affair with a party of the Americans which had landed at Penobscot. We shall quote his own account of the matter : — " On the 28th, after a sharp cannonade from the ship- ping upon the wood, to the great surprise of General Maclean and the garrison, the Americans effected a landing. I happened to be upon picket that morning, under the command of a captain of the 74th regiment, who, after giving them one fire, instead of encouraging his men — who naturally had been a little startled by the cannonade — to do then- dutj', ordered them to retreat, leaving me and about twenty men to shift for ourselves. After standing for some time I was obliged to retreat to the fort, having five or six of my own men killed and several wounded : I was lucky to escape untouched." Few as were his opportunities, his merits procured him promotion to the rank of captain. The peace of 1783 was followed by the reduction of the regiment to which he belonged, and soon after he was placed on half-pay he entered Parliament under the auspices of the Duke of Hamilton, as member for the Lanark dis- trict of burghs. In 1787 we find him again in the army as major of the 60th, and aftei"wards of the 51st, his old regiment. Soon after he had joined, the regiment was ordered on foreign service, and the lieutenant-colonel being unwilling to go abroad, Moore purchased his com- mission. During the years which passed before the regiment sailed for Gibraltar in 1792, he was unwearied in disciplining and ti'aining his regiment, which he suc- ceeded in raising to the highest state of efficiency in the service. In 1794 Colonel Moore served in Corsica under Sir Gilbert Elliott, and distinguished himself by many in- stances of skill and bravely. At the siege of Calvi, though severely wounded by the bursting of a shell, he entered the Mogello fort at the head of his grenadiers in such gallant style, that General Stuart, who had wit- nessed his conduct, rushed forward and embraced him with enthusiasm. After the subjugation of Corsica he SIR JOHN MOORE. 245 was appointed adjutant-general of the island, but in con- sequence of some dispute with Sir Gilbert Elliott, he was suddenly dismissed, and ordered to quit Corsica in forty-eight hours. He returned to England, and imme- diately sought an opportunity of explaining his conduct to Mr. Pitt and the Duke of York ; so perfectly were they satisfied, that they raised him to the rank of briga- dier-general, and sent him to join Sir Ralph Abercromby in the West Indies. Moore's destination was the Island of St. Lucia, whose natural defences had been greatly strengthened by French engineers. Here his services were equally hon- orable and unremitting ; he displayed such gallantry in the attack on La Morne Fortunee, that Abercromby eulogized it as having been the admiration of the whole army. When the island was subdued, Moore was ap- pointed its governor, a harassing office, the hardships of which he thus described in a letter to his father : — " I have often reproached myself with not writing to you ; I know how anxious you all are about me, but since I have been left in the island I have never had a moment I could call my own, and am at times so worn out, that notwithstanding my honors, I am more an object of pity than of envy Many of the blacks, previous to the surrender, escaped with their arms into the woods and interior of this island. For some time they remained quiet, but since, encouraged by white people attached to the republic, and who were very improperly allowed to remain in the island, they began burning houses and villages, murdering people of all ages and both sexes, so that it became highly necessary, not only from human- ity, but for the safety of our posts and the colony, to march against them. Tliey were joined by numbers of blacks from the plantations ; all of that color are at- tached to them. I have not only these brigands to sub- due, but the coast to guard from succors which may be thrown in, in small boats, from Guadaloupe, and I have unfortunately very few officers on whom I can de- pend." In fact, the officers under Moore were not unnaturally weary of very severe service in a most unhealthy cli- mate ; the governor wrote to Sir Ralph Abercromby, X 2 246 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. " The army you left in this countiy is almost entirely melted away. The officers and men are dispiiited ; the former thinking only of getting home, and framing excuses, in many instances the most shameful, to bring it about." Several officers having died, or become disabled by sickness, and many others having obtained leave of ab- sence to procure a change of air, there remained scarcely enough to do the duty of the garrison, and Moore was, consequently, obliged to issue orders that no one, except in the last necessity, should quit the island. Shortly afterward he was himself attacked with the yellow fever, and on being told that if he did not go on board ship his life would be in danger, he referred the medi- cal men who attended him to his own orders, and stated that he was resolved at all events to remain at his post ; it was not until he had become insensible that the phy- sicians were able to effect a removal so necessary to his safety. Scarcely had he returned to Europe when he was sent to aid in suppressing the insurrection which has rendered the year 1798 so melancholy in the annals of Ireland. In this service Moore's bravery and skill were not more conspicuous than his humanity ; he recovered Wexford from the insurgents, and saved the town from the total ruin with which it was menaced by some of the royal ti'oops. He checked, severely, the excesses of the soldiers, which in some instances were more to be dreaded than those of the rebels, and remonstrated with the government for permitting such military licen- tiousness, particularly in the yeomanry and militia, as w ^re more calculated to provoke than to quell the revolt of the unfortunate peasantiy. The boldness and free- dom of these remonstrances were neither forgiven nor forgotten by Lord Castlereagh, and through his influ- ence Moore, who had been promoted to the rank of major-general, was removed from Ireland, but his hu- mane policy was adopted by the new lord-lieutenant, the Marquis Cornwallis. Moore next took a part in the disastrous campaign of 1799 in Holland, whence he returned severely wounded in the face and thigh. The letter in which Sir Ralph SIR JOHN MOORE. 247 Abercromby communicated this intelligence to Dr. Moore, must not be omitted. " Egmond-on-the-Sea, Oct. 4th. " My dear Sir, — Although your son is wounded in the thigh and in the cheek, I can assure you that he is in no sort of danger ; both wounds are slight. The public and myself are the greatest sufferers by these ac- cidents. The general is a hero, with more sense than many others of that description. In that, he is an or- nament to his family and to his profession. I hope Mrs. Moore and his sister will be easy on his account, and that you are proud of such a son." * * * Before he was recovered of his wounds, he was ap- pointed colonel of the 52d regiment, and in May, 1800, sailed on a new expedition, under the command of his friend Abercromby, which, after some changes and vi- cissitudes, was ultimately destined to drive the French from Egypt. The French attacked the first division of the ti-oops that landed with great fury and effect : but Moore, fol- lowing with the resei-ve, i-ushed up an eminence on which the French were posted, and drove them from their position at the point of the bayonet. Napoleon, when he heard of this exploit, commended it as a mas- ter-piece of generalship, and it was deservedly eulogized in the British army. At the battle of Aboukir, when the gallant Abercromby closed his career, Moore's valor was equally conspicuous ; though severely wounded in the leg, he refused to quit the field until the defeat of the enemy was announced. In 1801, he returned home, just in time to receive his father's last blessing, and upon his death he generously pressed upon his mother an additional annuity from him- self, but she, with similar generosity, would only accept one-half. During the short suspension of hostilities, by the peace of Amiens, he was placed on the home-staff', and he employed himself in drilling and disciplining the regiments under his command, rendering his own a pattern corps. He was thus engaged when war was renewed, and England was menaced with invasion. Mr. 248 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Pitt, who held the office of Warden of the Cinque Ports, was much interested in the arrangements made for defending the coast : we must make room for one anecdote' of the interviews between the minister and the general. — •' Mr. Pitt frequently rode over to Shorecliff, where Moore was encamped, who had the pleasure of explaining to this gi'eat statesman all his plans. On one of those occasions Mr. Pitt said to him, ' Well, Moore, as on the veiy first alarm of the enemy's coming, I shall march to aid you with my Cinque Ports regiments, you have not told me where you will place us ?' — ' Do you see that hill V said Moore ; ' you and yours shall be drawn up on it, where you will make a most formidable appearance to the enemy, while I with the soldiers shall be fighting on the beach.' Mr. Pitt was much amused by his reply." In September, 1804, George III. confeired the order of the Bath on the gallant general, and he was subse- quently sent to Sicily, where his time was wasted in petty intrigues and fruitless expeditions. Equally un- satisfactory was his mission to Sweden. He was sent at the head of ten thousand men to aid King Gustavus ; but that monarch, whose sanity was very doubtful, placed the English general under arrest, and compelled him to return with his troops to England. But the respite he enjoyed was brief; he was ordered to the Peninsula. The circumstances under which he was sent to this brief, brilliant, and disastrous stage of his career were very mortifying. Lord Castlereagh, re- membering their diflt'erences in Ireland, placed him sub- ordinate to two incapable generals. Sir Hew Dalrymple and Sir Harry Burrard, the former of whom had never commanded an army in the field. Before leaving England, Sir .1. Moore had an intei-view with Lord Castlereagh, of which the following authentic account has been presei-ved. The general spoke as follows : •'My lord, a postchaise is at my door, and upon leaving this, I shall proceed to Portsmouth to join the troops. It may, perhaps, be my lot never to see your lordship again ; I therefore think it right to express to you my feelings of the unhandsome treatment I have received." Lord Castlereagh broke in, saying, " I am not sensible SIR JOHN MOORE. 249 of what treatment you allude to." Sir John continued to this effect : — " Since my arrival from the Downs, if 1 had been an ensign, I could hardly have been treated with less ceremony. It is only by inference that I know how I am to be employed ; for your lordship has never told me in plain terms, that I am to serve in an army under Sir Hew Dahymple. And coming from a chief command, if it was intended to employ me in an inferior capacity, I might expect that something explan- atory should be said. You have told me that my con- duct in Sweden was approved of, but from your conduct I should have concluded the reverse. His majesty's ministers have a right to employ what officers they please ; and had they, on this occasion, given the com- mand to the youngest general in the army, I should neither have felt nor expressed that the least injury was done to me. But I have a right, in common with all officers who have served zealously, to be treated with attention, and when employment is offered, that some regard should be paid to my former services." Lord Castlereagh made some shuffling excuse, and the interview terminated ; but Sir John Moore had scarcely reached Portugal, when his two superiors gave such signal proofs of their incapacity, that they were recalled, in obedience to the indignant voice of the na- tion, and he was gratified with the chief command of the army. On the 4th of October, 1808, he received orders to advance, with 20,000 men at his disposal, and cooperate with the Spanish armies in expelhng the French from the Peninsula. Badly supplied with money and munitions of war, with few guides and a defective staff, Moore commenced his advance, and on tlie ilth of November entered Spain. He found neither allies nor supphes. Mr. Hookham Frere, the English ambassador at Madrid, was an indolent, con- ceited pedant, who dozed away his life in literary ti'iffing : the promises of the Spaniai'ds were quite enough for him ; he deemed it superfluous trouble to make any inquiry about their performance. So sadly were arrangements neglected, that when Sir David Baird reached Corunna with a reinforcement of ten thousand men, fourteen days elapsed before he could 250 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. obtain permission to land. As Sir J. Moore advanced, he felt more and more keenly the utter worthlessness of the allies with whom he had to cooperate. The civil and military authorities of Spain were hostile to each other. The generals, with the exception of the Marquis Romana, were arrogant, incompetent, and ob- stinate ; while the soldiers were destitute of equip- ments, discipline, and confidence : but one and all were loud boasters, and their vaunts passed for solemn ti'uths with Mr. Hookham Frere. While the English were advancing, the disorganized Spanish armies were routed by the French in three great battles, which their generals hazarded imprudent- ly and fought badly, Bonaparte having ti-iumphed over Austria, had brought a large army of veteran troops to complete the conquest of Spain, and, advancing without any opposition, made himself master of Madrid. At this crisis Frere was so completely misled by false in- formation, that he wrote to Mooi-e to advance and cover Madrid, which the citizens had resolved to defend to the last extremity ! Taunted by Frere, who ventured to hint that the general was deficient in zeal and ability, Moore advanced to attack Marshal Soult at Saldanha ; but just as he was preparing to engage, he learned that Soult had received strong reinforcements, and that Na- poleon had advanced from Madrid to get in the rear of the British troops. He had now no means of saving his army except a speedy retreat, which he at once com- menced, being closely pursued by the enemy. Lord Paget gave the French a severe check at Sahagun, but this only afforded a temporary respite to the British. A portion of Romana's flying army crossed the line of re- ti-eat at Astorga, plundered the stores which Moore had collected for his soldiers, and communicated to the Brit- ish the diseases which had decimated their own ranks. From this time the condition of the reti'eating army be- came truly deplorable. Their line of march lay through a desolate country ; the winter had set in with much severity ; rain, sleet, and snow rendered the roads almost impassable; the supplies of provision were miserably scanty ; the treasure collected to pay the soldiers was abandoned for want of means of ti-ansport : the baggage SIR JOHN MOORE. 251 of the men was destroyed ; their clothes hung in rags ; their feet were blistered by long marches, and cut for want of shoes ; the peasants refused to give any assist- ance to their allies ; and, to complete the distress, the troops became insubordinate, and committed such ex- cesses that it was necessary on several occasions to have recourse to capital punishment. Still, there never was a time when the indomitable courage of the British sol- dier was more signally displayed. Though retreating in such disorder, they repulsed the advanced guards of the French in every encounter. Moore himself, being con- stantly with the rear of his troops, was invariably present whenever a shot was fired or the French appeared m sight. At length the British reached Corunna, but the fleet of transports, in which the army might have been quickly and safely embarked, was delayed by contrary winds at Vigo. This untoward event caused a loss of three days, and it became evident that the embarkation could not be effected without a battle. On the 14th of January, the cavalry, the sick, and the greater part of the artillery, were sent on board the transports ; the 15th passed in smart skirmishes at the outposts, but in the afternoon of the 16th Soult's advance brought on a general engage- ment. The battle was obstinate and bloody, but just as the tide of success had turned in favor of the English, Moore was mortally wounded by a cannon-shot, and fell to the ground. He was carried into Corunna by some of the weeping soldiers, but he frequently compelled his bearers to stop that he might observe the progress of the battle. His brother gives the following account of the last moments of the hero. " He was placed on a mat- trass on the floor, and supported by Anderson, who had saved his hfe at St. Lucia ; and some of the gentlemen of his staff came into his room by turns. He asked each as they entered if the French were beaten, and was an- swered affirmatively. They stood around ; the pain of his wound became excessive, and deadly paleness over- spread his fine features ; yet, with unsubdued fortitude, he said at intervals, ' Anderson, you know that I have always wished to die this way. I hope the people ol England will be satisfied. I hope my country will do 252 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. me justice. Anderson, you will see ray friends as soon as you can. Tell them everything — say to my moth- er ' Here his voice faltered, he became exces- sively agitated, and not being able to proceed, changed the subject. "'Hope — Hope* — I have much to say to him, but cannot get it out. Are Colonel Grahamf and all my aides-de-camp safe V (At this question, Anderson, who knew the warm regard of the general toward the offi- cers of his staff, made a private sign not to mention that Captain Burrard was mortally wounded.) He then con- tinued, ' I have made my will and remembered my ser- vants. Colborne has my will and all my papers.' As he spoke these words. Major Colborne, his military secretaiy, entered the room ; he addressed him with his wonted kindness, then turning to Anderson said, ' Remember you go to Willoughby Gordon, and tell him it is my request, and that I expect he will give a lieu- tenant-colonelcy to Major Colborne : he has been long with me — and I know him to be most worthy of it.' "He then asked the major, who had come the last from the field, ' Have the French been beaten ?' He assured him they had on every point. ' It is a great satisfaction,' he said, ' for me to know that we have beaten the French. Is PagetJ in the room V On being told he was not, he resumed, ' Remember me to him, he is a fine fellow.' Though visibly sinking, he then said, ' I feel myself so sti-ong — I fear I shall be long dying — it's great pain — everything Francois§ says is right — I have great confidence in him.' He thanked the surgeons for their attendance. Then seeing Cap- tains Percy and Stanhope, two of his aides-de-camp, enter, he spoke to them kindly, and repeated to them the question, ' Are all my aides-de-camp safe ?' and was pleased on being told they were. " After a pause. Stanhope caught his eye, and he said to him, ' Stanhope, remember me to your sister.' He * Sir John Hope, who succeeded to the command, afterward Earl of Hopetoun. t Of Balgowan, afterward Lord Lynedoch. t The present Marquis of Anglesea. "^ One of the surgeons in attendance. SIR JOHN MOORE. 253 then became silent, — Death, undreaded, approached, and the spirit departed, leaving the bleeding body an ob- lation offered up to his country. The striking circum- stances of Sir John Moore's burial have been described by the Rev. Charles Wolfe, in the most picturesque lyric which exists in our language. As this exquisite poem has often been incorrectly printed, we transcribe it from a lithograph copy of the lamented author's auto- graph now before us : — " Not a drum was heard, not a funeral riote As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried We buried him darkly— at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin inclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we stedfastly gazed on the face of the dead. And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head. And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done. When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down From the field of his fame fresh and gory : We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory !" Within a fortnight after Sir John Moore's death, a high eulogium was passed on his conduct in general Y 254 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. orders to the army. A monument was erected to his memory in St. Paul's, and another in Glasgow. On the spot where he fell a commemoration stone was placed by Soult, to testify the high respect with which he was regarded by his enemies, and a pillar was after- ward raised at Elvina (a village near Corunna) accord- ing to the terms of its inscription, " By the gratitude of Spain to the glory of the English Moore and his valiant countiymen, in memory of the action of the sixteenth of January, 1809." LORD NELSON. Horatio Nelson, the greatest of our naval heroes, was born September 29th, 1758, in Burnham Thorpe, a village in the county of Norfolk, of which his father was rector. Few anecdotes of his earlier years have been preserved : he appears to have been a weak sickly boy, but to have given early indications of a resolute mind and daring spirit. When about twelve years of age, having heard that his maternal uncle had been appointed to the command of a ship of war, he applied to his father to take this opportunity of sending him to sea, and as Mr. Nelson's circumstances were rather straitened, he complied with his request. Captain Suckling showed gi-eat anxiety to train his nephew to a practical knowledge of naval affairs ; when appointed to the command of the guard-ship in the Thames, he sent Nelson in a merchant-vessel to the West Indies, and after his return, he made him practice some of the duties of a pilot, by which he acquired a confidence among rocks and sands that subsequently proved of great value in his profession. Nelson had not been many months on board his uncle's ship, when his passion for adventure was ex- cited by hearing that a voyage of discoveiy was about to be undertaken toward the North Pole. The two ships sent on this enterprise were commanded by the Hon. Captain Phipps ; they were fitted out with great care,, and none but picked men were received into the crews. Through his uncle's interest Nelson was permitted to join this expedition as coxswain to Captain Letwidge, 256 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the second in command. They sailed from the Nore on the 4th of Jmie, 1773, and at the close of the follow- ing month had reached a higher degi*ee of northern latitude than had been attained by any former naviga- tors. Here they were beset with the ice which threat- ened to hold them fast, and, before the vessels were extricated, Nelson exposed himself to imminent danger by quitting thje ship to go in pursuit of a bear ; his excuse was that he wanted to procure the skin for his father. The commanders of the expedition were pre- paring to quit their ships and take to the boats, when a change of wind enabled them to force the ships through, and after a brief delay they returned to England. Nelson next sailed for the East Indies, but the climate proving too injurious to his health he came home, and soon after passed his examination as lieutenant with gi-eat credit. He received the commission of second lieutenant on board the Lowestoffe, commanded by Captain Locker, destined for sei-vice in the West Indies. Here his bravery and activity were so eminently displayed, par- ticularly in boarding an American prize in a heavy sea, that the captain warmly recommended him to Sir Peter Parker, the admiral of the station, by whom he was soon promoted to the command of a vessel of his own. Early in the year 1780 he was sent to convoy an expe- dition sent against the Spanish colonies in the Isthmus of Panama. The climate and the fatigue which the operations involved, desti'oyed the greater part of the military and naval forces ; Nelson was obliged to aban- don the command of a new ship to which he had been appointed, and return to recruit his constitution in England. On his recoveiy he was appointed to the Albemarle, and sailed to the Baltic, where he obtained a knowledge of the Danish coast, which proved of the greatest service many years afterwai'd. He next was ordered to Quebec, thence to New York, and at length to the West Indies, where he soon acquired the confidence of the admiral. Lord Hood, by whom he was introduced to Prince William Henry (the late William IV.), then learning the naval profession as a midshipman. A friendship was soon formed between Nelson and the prince, which death alone inten-upted. LORD NELSON. 257 Ou the restoration of peace in 1783, Nelson's sliip was paid off, and finding his finances low he removed for a short time to France. He was soon, however, employed again, being sent in the Boreas to the West India station. Finding that the provisions of the Navi- gation Act respecting the trade of foreigners with British colonies, were violated by the Americans, he complained to the local authorities, and finding them unwilling to act, he seized several vessels, and had them condemned in the Court of Admiralty. The favorers of the contraband trade resented this enforce- ment of law, and Nelson was much harassed by their threats of prosecution. The English government, how- ever, sanctioned his conduct, and ordered that he should be defended at the expense of the crown. Just about this time he was married to Mrs. Nisbit, the widow of a physician, who had a son by her first husband, about three years old ; it was through the playfulness of the child that Nelson became acquainted with the mother. Having discovered that some gross frauds were perpe- trated on the government, Nelson denounced the pecu- lators, but they possessed such powerful interest as to be able to stifle inquiry, and even to raise gi-eat preju- dices against Nelson at the board of admiralty. On his return to England he was rather coldly received, by which he was so offended that he had some intention of quitting the service ; his wounded feelings were soothed by Lord Howe, and at the commencement of the revolutionary Avar he was appointed to the command of the Agamemnon, a ship of 64 guns. Nelson was sent to the Mediterranean just at the time that the inhabitants of Toulon, wearied by the violence of their own government, had surrendered their city to the British admiral ; he was sent to Naples to obtain the aid of Neapolitan troops in garrisoning the new acquisition, and here he laid the foundation of his future unhappiness. The envoy, Sir William Ham- ilton, actively exerted himself to procure the desired troops ; he introduced Nelson to Lady Hamilton, the subsequent source of his domestic miseiy, and to the Neapolitan court, from which flowed the only dark stain that rests on his character. Shortly afterward he 17 y2 258 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCll. was sent to cooperate with General Paoli and the Anti-Gallican party in expelling the French from Cor- sica. Bastia was taken chiefly by Nelson's exertions, and at the siege of Calvi, where he greatly exerted himself, he lost an eye ; but his services w^ere neither noticed nor requited. Admiral Hotham having received information that a French fleet was at sea, sailed in pursuit. Nelson in the Agamemnon attacked the Ca- Ira, which had lost her mast ; not being supported, and the rest of the French fleet preparing to assist their consort, he was obliged to desist, but on the following morning, the Ca-Ira and the Censeur, which had her in tow, were cut off* from the French fleet, and captured. Nelson in vain urged the admiral to follow up his suc- cess, but Hotham was more cautious than enterprising, and it must be confessed that the neglect of the English admiralty had left his fleet in a condition which might excuse his reluctance to encounter any gj-eat hazard. Nelson was next sent to cooperate with the Austrian army in driving the French from the north of Italy. This was a most disagi-eeable service. Our allies had neither zeal for the war, nor confidence in themselves ; the Italians were secretly disposed to favor the French, and Nelson's superiors in command would neithei- act energetically themselves, nor give him sufficient force to carry his bold plans into execution. At length, the pro- gress of tlie French on land rendered the presence of a naval force unnecessary ; the Agamemnon was obliged to sail to Leghorn to refit, after which she rejoined the fleet, which had been recently placed under the able and efficient command of Sir John Jervis. He was soon sent on the unpleasant service of superintending the evacuation of Corsica, which the English govern- ment had resolved to abandon. AVhile thus engaged, he was promoted to the rank of commodore, and hoisted his broad pendant on board the Minerve frigate. Oft* the coast of Corsica he captured a Spanish frigate ; but an entire squadron of the enemy appearing, he was obliged to abandon his prize, and the Minerve herself could hardly have escaped but for the anxiety of the Spaniards to recover their own ship. After the abandonment of Corsica, the English fleet LORD NELSON. 259 was witlidrawn from the Mediterranean to protect the coasts of Portugal ; Nelson remained behind to escort a convoy to Gibraltar, and on his way to join the admiral, after having performed this service, he passed the Spanish fleet, and brought the first intelligence of their appear- ance to Sir John Jervis, who was cruising off Cape St. Vincent. The admiral directed Nelson to shift his broad pendant into the Captain, a seventy-four, and made the signal to prepare for action, and to keep together during the night. When the morning of the 14th of February, 1797, dawned, the English fleet of fifteen sail of the Mne formed a compact little body, while the Spanish force, amounting to twenty-seven sail, was dispersed and in confusion. This aftbrded Sir J. Jervis an opportunity of cutting oflt' nine ships from the main body, which he resolved to attack, though still superior in number of ships and weight of metal. The admiral made the sig- nal to tack in succession ; but Nelson, perceiving that the Spaniards were bearing up to join their separated ships, disobeyed the signal, and ordered his vessel to be wore. This at once brought him into action with the Santissima Trinidad, one hundred and thirty-six ; the San Josef, one hundred and twelve ; the Salvador del Mundo, one hundred and twelve ; the San Nicholas, eighty ; and three seventy -fours. Trowbridge, in the Culloden, immediately joined, and the two English ships maintained the unequal contest for nearly an hour. When others came up. Nelson confined himself to the San Josef and the San Nicholas, the latter of which he boarded, and took with little difficulty. He then pre- I)ared to board the San Josef from the ship just cap- tured ; but an officer hastened to announce that she had surrendered, and Nelson had only to receive the swords from her officers as signs of their submission. The Spanish fleet, though still superior in number, did not venture to renew the engagement, and the English were permitted tranquilly to secure their prizes. For this victory. Sir J. Jervis was created Earl St. Vincent; and Nelson, who had been advanced to the rank of rear-admiral before the news of the action reached England, received the Order of the Bath. The disproportion of these rewards is obvious, and, without 260 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. detracting from the well-deserved fame of Earl St. Vin- cent, we must feel that he had but a small share in the victory from which he derived his title. Sir Horatio Nelson, having hoisted his flag on board the Theseus, was employed in blockading the inner squadron in the Bay of Cadiz. While making a night attack on the Spanish gun-boats, his barge, in which there were only ten men, the admiral, Captain Free- mantle, and the coxswain, was attacked by an armed launch, carrying thirty-six men. A desperate battle ensued, and notwithstanding the great disparity of num- bers, the launch was taken. Nelson next planned an attack on Santa Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe ; he did not obtain all the forces he required, and his best pro- jects were baffled by unfavorable winds and tides ; still he persevered in attacking the town with boats ; at the moment of landing, he was shot thi-ough the right el- bow, and was carried back to his ship ; some of the boats missed the mole, and were destroyed by the surf; those who effected a landing were not sufficiently numerous for the enterprise. An agi-eement was concluded with the Spanish governor, by which the English were per- mitted to embark unmolested, on condition of sparing the town. It must be mentioned, to the honor of the Span- iards, that so soon as the terms of agi-eement were con- cluded, they paid every possible attention to the wound- ed, and sent supplies of provision to the exhausted sailors. The amputation of his right arm, which was perform- ed in a slovenly manner, caused Nelson to endure great physical suffering, which was aggi-avated by his anxiety lest the loss should disqualify him for sei-vice. He re- turned to England, where he remained about a year; but early in 1798 he hoisted his flag on board the Van- guard, and was ordered to rejoin Earl St. Vincent. The attention of Europe was now directed to an ar- mament, which was fitting out under Napoleon at Tou- lon. Nelson was sent with a large squadron to watch its movements ; but a severe gale dispersed his ships- and before the damages which they had sustained could be repaired, the French had sailed, and had achieved the conquest of Malta. Nelson, having received rein- 4 LORD NELSON. 261 forcements, sailed in pursuit ; he found that they had quitted Malta, and rightly conjecturing that Egypt was their destination, he bore up for Alexandria. The French steered an angular, the Enghsh a direct course ; the latter reached Alexandria first, and found no signs of the enemy, though it subsequently appeared that the two fleets had crossed each other during the voyage. Nelson returned to Sicily, where his fleet victualed and watered ; he then once more sought the Levant, and at length had the satisfoction to discover the French fleet anchored in Aboukir Bay. Admiral Brueys, the French commander, though superior in strength, had no wish to hazard an engage- ment. He moored his ships in the roadstead, as close to a shoal as he deemed consistent with safety, the bank protecting one flank, and the curve formed by the fleet preventing his being turned on the other. Nelson immediately perceived that where there wms room for a hostile ship to swing, there must be room for a British ship to anchor, and he, therefore, resolved to double on the enemy's ships, trusting to the skilfulness of the pilots to keep clear of the shoal. The battle began about half-past six in the evening; night closed in at seven, and there was no other light than the flashes of the cannon from the contending fleets. Nelson re- ceived a wound in the forehead, which was at first be- Ueved to be mortal, but it proved of trifling consequence, and he was able to perceive that his brilliant plan of action had been crowned with complete success. Un- fortunately, the CuUoden, commanded by Trowbridge, had grounded on the shoal, and bore no part in the action ; but this accident saved the ships behind from the danger of grounding in a far more dangerous part of the same bank. One of the most fearful incidents of naval war dis- tinguished this battle ; L'Orient, the vessel that bore the French admiral's flag, took fire a little after nine o'clock, and having been newly painted, burned with intense fury. So great was the light produced by the conflagration, that the position of both fleets could be clearly seen, and even the flags were distinguishable ; at twelve she exploded, with a shock which was 262 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. severely felt at the very bottom of every vessel. A silence, not less awful, followed this fearful event ; not more than seventy of the crew were saved, and these were rescued from destruction by the heroism of the British sailors. The battle continued all night; at day- break the two rear ships of the enemy's line, which had not been engaged, alone had their colors flying. They cut their cables, and escaped, in company with two frigates, the British fleet being too severely crippled for eliective pursuit. Still, seldom was a more com- plete victory obtained ; the objects of Napoleon's expe- dition to Egj^pt were frustrated by this single battle. Honors now flowed in upon him from every side ; he was created a peer, granted honorable armorial bear- ings, and endowed with a pension ; the East India Company voted him a grant of ten thousand pounds ; the Turkish Company presented him with a service of plate ; the corporation of the City of London ordered a sword to be prepared for him and each of his captains. Foreign powers joined in these tributes of respect ; the sultan sent him a pelisse of sables, and a diamond aigi'ette, taken from the i-oyal turban ; the Emperor of .Russia presented his portrait in diamonds, with an autograph letter of congratulation ; the King of Sar- dinia sent a gold box, set with diamonds ; and their majesties of Naples expressed the most earnest anxiety to ofter their felicitations in person. The flattery of the Neapolitan court was unfortunately the most welcome of all these congratulations, and he hastened from the scene of his glory to inhale the incense of fulsome adulation, to which he was invited. Enslaved by the charms of Lady Hamilton, and in- duced by her persuasions to sacrifice everything to the gratification of the Neapolitan queen, Nelson remained on the coast of Naples, neglecting many opportunities of reaping the fruits of his gi-eat victoiy at the Nile. "When there appeared a favorable chance of expelling the French from the south of Italy, the Neapolitan court seemed less anxious for the recovery of its do- minions, than for sating its sanguinary vengeance on those who had been driven into the arms of revolution by its own weakness and desertion. In the unhappy LORD NELSOxX. 263 State of Nelson's mind, he became the ready instrmnent of the gratification of these g\ul\y passions. When the castles of Uovo and Nuovo capitulated, Nelson, who arrived six-and-thirty hours alter the articles had been signed, at once annulled the treaty, and insisted that the garrisons should be delivered over to the vengeance of thg Sicilian court. This was followed by the judicial murder of Prince Francesco Carraccioli ; this unfortu- nate nobleman was brought on board the admiral's vessel at nine in the morning, was put on trial at ten, and executed at five the same evening. Lady Hamilton, who was with Nelson at the time, was actually a wit- ness of the execution ! It is impossible to excuse this crime ; it does not even admit of palliation. Nelson soon after quitted the Mediterranean, returning home through Germany to England ; he was everywhere re- oieived with the highest honors, but private uneasiness neutralized the plea&ure derived from public approba- tion; his infatuated attachment to Lady Hamilton led him to separate from Lady Nelson. Some of his last words to her were — " I call God to witness there is nothing in you or your conduct that I wish otherwise." A confederacy had been formed by the courts of Russia, Sweden, and Denmark, hostile to the maritime supremacy of England; and the Addington ministry, which then governed England, sent a fleet to the Baltic to maintain our naval rights. Sir Hyde Parker held the chief command, and Nelson was second in rank. It has been asserted that the vacillation and weakness which Nelson had shown in Naples, were the reasons wily he was not entrusted with the entire direction of an expedition, in which the caution of a diplomatist was as necessary to success as the courage of a hero. When the fleet reached the Cattegat, some valuable time Avas wasted in negotiations, and when they were at an end several days were lost in deciding upon a plan of action. It was at length resolved to force the pas- sage of the Sound, and attack the Danish fleet in sight of their capit-al. Nelson volunteered to eflect this ser- vice, for which purpose Sir Hyde Parker gave him twelve line-of-battle ships, and the whole of the smaller craft. The passage of the EngUsh fleet through the 264 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Sound was effected without any loss or difficulty ; the Swedes offering no resistance, the ships kept close to the Swedish shore, and thus were beyond the range of the Danish batteries. When the fleet came in sight of Copenhagen, it was found that the Danes had made most formidable arrangements for defence ; their line consisted of nineteen gi-eat ships and floating batteries, flanked by the crown batteries, artificial islands of im- mense strength constructed at the entrance of the har- bor. The English had to pass a shoal, before they could close with the enemy ; but, through the ignorance of the pilots, one of our ships of war gi-ounded where she was wholly useless, and two others in a situation where they could not render half the service required of them. The gun-brigs and mortar-vessels were pre- vented, by baffling currents, from reaching their ap- pointed stations, and the squadron of frigates which, under Captain Riou, attacked the crown batteries, was inadequate to the task. The action began five minutes after ten in the morn- ing of April 2d, 1801. The fire of more than a thou- sand guns was opened on the British fleet; and Sir Hyde Parker, who was aware of the accidents which had deprived Nelson of a large part of his force, made a signal to discontinue the action. Nelson, without a moment's hesitation, resolved to disobey, and the other ships, looking only to him, continued the desperate engagement. Fortunately, Sir Hyde's signal was seen and obeyed by Riou's little squadron of frigates, which was thus saved from destruction ; but their gallant com- mander was unfortunately slain. The battle continued to rage with great fury until past one o'clock, when the fire of the Danes gi-adually slackened, and at two was nearly silenced along their whole hue. But it was diffi- cult to take possession of the ships that had struck, and their hapless crews were mowed down by the fire from the Danish ships and batteries, and by the fire of the English in return. To put an end to this useless slaughter, Nelson resolved to appeal to the crown prince, to whom he wrote the following letter : — " Vice-admiral Lord Nelson has been commanded to spare Denmark, when she no longer resists. The line LORD NELSON. 265 of defence which covered her shores has struck to the British flag ; but if the firing is continued on the part of Denmark, he must set on fire all the prizes that he has taken, without having the power of saving the men who have so nobly defended them. The brave Danes are the brothers, and should never be the enemies, ot the English." This letter, sealed with due formality, was sent ashore. A ti-uce was concluded; and while the Danes were conveying their wounded ashore, he hastened to remove his vessels from the perilous situa- tion they occupied. This was a work of great diffi- culty, and, but for the ti-uce, would have been attended with considerable loss. The prolongation of the truce afforded an opportunity for bringing off" the prizes ; and the sight of their ships, thus towed away, was a source of greater mortification to the Danes than their pre- vious defeat and immense losses. Some delay occurred in concluding an armistice, and at one time there was reason to fear that hostilities would be renewed ; but finally, it was agreed that hostilities should cease for fourteen weeks,— thus giving the English time to turn their attention to Russia, the leading member ot the Northern confederacy. , t, • Nelson was anxious to strike a blow at the Russian fleet, and to renew in Revel the scene just acted at Co- penhagen ; but he found it impossible to infuse any por- tion of his own energy or activity. Before, however, any decisive resolutions could be termed, the Northern confederacy was dissolved by the death of the Emperor Paul; and Nelson, having completed the pacification ot the Baltic, returned to England. He had not been long at home when he was appointed to superintend the measures taken to prevent the invasion with which Na- poleon then menaced England. He resolved upon at- tacking the flotilla assembled in the mouth of Boulogne harbor, but owing to the darkness and uncertainty ot the tides in the Channel, the divisions of boats destined for this service were separated, and the objects ot the expedition were frustrated. On the conclusion of the peace of Amiens, Nelson re- tired to Merton, in Surrey, where he had purchased a house and estate, intending to pass his days there in the Z 266 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. society of Sir William and Lady Hamilton. His un- happy attachment still troubled his peace of mind, and involved him in pecuniary difficulties ; while at the same time he was much hurt by what he deemed instances of coldness and neglect on the part of the government. When the war was renewed in 1803, Nelson was appointed to the command of the Mediterranean fleet. He at once took up his station off Toulon, where he kept the French blockaded for fourteen months. At length war was declared against France and Spain. The Toulon fleet, relying on Spanish support, put to sea, and Nelson, after a long and useless search in the Mediterranean, learned that the enemy had passed through the Straits of Gibraltar, and effected a junction with the Spanish squadron in Cadiz. Having subse- quently received information that the destination of the united fleets was the West Indies, he sailed thither in pursuit. Once more his exertions were baffled ; he was led to take a wrong course by a variety of accidents, and before he got into the right track the hostile fleets were on their return to Europe. Again he gave an in- effectual chase ; but, unable to meet them, he bore up for the Channel, and for the last time visited England. At Portsmouth he at length heard that the combined fleet had been met by Sir Robert Calder, who had taken two of their ships, but had not followed up his success with all the energy which the English nation expected. It is, however, only justice to say, that Sir Robert Calder's force was so far inferior to that of the enemy, that the capture of these two ships ought to have been regarded as a brilliant achievement. After this action, the French and Spanish fleets having refit- ted at Vigo, and formed a junction Avith the Ferrol squadron, had anived safely in Cadiz. Nelson once more offered his services : they were cheerfully ac- cepted, and the Admiralty made the most unremitting exertions to fit out the ships which he had chosen, par- ticularly the Victory, which was once more to bear his flag. He arrived oft' Cadiz on the 29th of September, but took care to conceal the fact from the enemy, and also to hide the exact number of his ships. Owing to these LORD NELSON. 267 precautious, the combined fleets, confiding in their sup- posed superiority, put to sea on the 19th of October, and on the 21st the hostile armaments came into col- Usion. Our fleet consisted of twenty-seven sail of the line and four frigates ; theirs of thirty-three sail of the line and seven large frigates. Their superiority was even greater in size and weight of metal than in num- bers. They had also four thousand troops o-n board ; and the best rifle-men that could be procured were dis- persed through the ships. Villeneuve, the French admiral, was a skilful seaman, and his plan of battle was equally skilful and original. He formed his fleet in a double crescent, each alternate ship being so placed as to support that next her, should the EngUsh attempt their favorite manoeuvre of breaking the hne. Nelson's plan of attack, which he had care- fully explained to all his admirals and captains, was to bear down upon the enemy in two lines ; Collingwood, in the Royal Sovereign, leading the lee line of thirteen ships, and Nelson, in the Victory, leading the weather line of fourteen ships. All arrangements being com- pleted. Nelson gave his last memorable signal — " Eng- land EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY." It WaS received throughout the fleet with a shout of acclama- tion, and every man nerved himself to fulfil the injunc- tion. ColHngwood's division first closed with the enemy, the Royal Sovereign breaking through the centre of their line. Shortly after Nelson's line took its share in the engagement, the Victory ran on board the Re- doubtable, and at the same time was exposed to the fire of the Bucentaure and the Santissima Trinidad. On this fatal day Nelson wore all his decorations, and thus made himself a conspicuous mark for the enemy's rifle- men. About a quarter after one, just in the heat of the action, he was mortally wounded by a musket-shot from the raizzen-top of the Redoubtable, and was carried below. As life ebbed away, he was cheered by the shouts which the sailors raised as ship after ship of the hostile fleet struck ; the last guns whicli were fired at the flying enemy were heard a minute or two before he «xpired. 268 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Twenty of the enemy's ships stj-uck, but it was not possible to bring the prizes to England ; a heavy gale came on; some sunk, others ran ashoie, one escaped into Cadiz ; four were saved by the greatest exertions, and the rest were destroyed. It was the greatest blow which the French navy had ever received, and its ef- fects were severely felt by Napoleon to the veiy close of his career. Every possible honor which a grateful country could bestow was heaped upon the memory of Nelson ; his brother was created an earl, munificent grants were made to his family ; his remains were interred, at the public expense, in St. Paul's Cathedral, where a public monument has been erected to his memory. The na- tion mourned his loss sincerely and deeply ; grief for his death checked the joy for such a glorious victoiy, and even now he continues to be the most popular of Eng- lish heroes, equally reverenced for his bravery and loved for the kindliness of his heart. The French ships that escaped from Trafalgar did not reach a place of safety. They were met off Roche- fort by Sir Richard Stiachan, and were all captured. Villeneuve was sent a prisoner to England, but soon ob- tained permission to return to France. On the road to Paris he committed suicide, either through fear of a court-martial, or from the keenness with which he felt the gi-eatness of the calamity that had been brought upon his country by his instrumentality. WILLIAM PITT. There never was a statesman in England who wielded such power as Mr. Pitt possessed during his life, or whose influence was more extensively felt after his death. He was born on the 28th of May, 1759, and at an early age gave strong indications of the industry and talent which must be combined to insure success in public life. His father, the Earl of Chatham, the most popular if not the greatest statesman of his age, sedu- lously attended to the education of a child who gave promise of continuing his fame in a second generation, and had him instructed at home, under his own eye, until he was fit for the University of Cambridge. In the university he acquired a very extensive knowledge, not only of classical literature but of mathematical science, and with political philosophy he was more familiar than most Englishmen of his own age. In 1780 he was called to the bar, and in the following year he was returned to Parliament for the borough of Appleby, through the influence of Sir James Lowther. Young as he was, great expectations were formed by those who remembered his father's fervid eloquence, and who had heard how high the young man's abilities were rated by the few who enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance. Nor were these expectations disap- pointed. Being unexpectedly called upon to reply to Lord Nugent, he delivered an unpremeditated oration, so remarkable for close argument and perspicuous dic- tion, that he at once established himself in the first rank of parliamentary debaters. z2 270 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. This success was not a mere emanation of genius ; it was the result of a mind sedulously trained and carefully disciplined in habits of reflection. Before he obtained a seat in the legislature he had been a constant attendant on the parliamentary debates, and had exercised his mind in sketching replies to those speeches from which he differed, and improvements on those with which he agreed. This habit, united to his familiarity with the writings of the best masters of style, aided him in at- taining that command of language and facility in reply by which he was distinguished above all his contempo- raries. At this time the increasing disasters of the American war had gi-eatly weakened Lord North's ministry in Parliament, and quite destroyed its popularity in the country. Mr. Pitt joined the ranks of the opposition, or rather of that section of the opposition which recog- nized for its leader the Earl of Shelburne (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne) ; this party indeed had long acted in concert with what was called the gi*eat Whig opposition, of which the Marquis of Rockingham and Mr. Fox were the leaders, but there were many jeal- ousies between the two sections, which prevented any cordiality in their union. Though Mr. Fox was always ready to do justice to the eminent qualities of Mr. Pitt, he seems not to have sought him as an ally or a colleague, and indeed between two such eminent men it would have been hard to determine which ought to have been contented with the second part. Though in Parliament, Mr. Pitt continued his attention to his profession, and went the western circuit; from the abilities he displayed there is little doubt that he would have attained to the highest dignity of the law, if he had continued at the bar. One reason for his continuing to practice is highly creditable to his mental and moral character. His pro- fession gave him an independent position, which freed him from the necessity of accepting any inferior office for the sake of its emoluments. When Lord North's ministry fell to pieces, and a new administration was formed under the Marquis of Rockingham, in which Lord Shelburne was included, WILLIAM PITT. 271 no place in the cabinet was offered to Mr. Pitt, and he refused any situation of inferior rank. He gave general support to the ministerial measures, but took advantage of his independence to propose a reform in Parliament, which Mr. Fox supported. The motion was lost, but the ability and constitutional learning displayed by the mover produced a powerful effect in the country. On the death of Lord Rockingham the king appointed Lord Shelburne premier, upon which Mr. Fox and his friends resigned their offices. Lord Shelburne then gave the strongest proof of the high estimate he had formed of Mr. Pitt's talents, by appointing him Chan- cellor of the Exchequer. Thus, when little more than twenty-three years of age, he was appointed to super- intend the finances of Great Britain, and this too at a crisis of peculiar difficulty, when all the pecuniary con- cerns of the countiy were thrown into a state of gi'eat embarrassment by the termination of a disastrous war. In the Ufe of Mr. Fox we have already given the history of the coalition between him and Lord North, by which these strange allies triumphed over Lord Shelburne's administi-ation in Parliament, but at the same time gi-ievously damaged their own character and influence in the country. Their united parties gave them a majority which Lord Shelburne's cabinet could not resist ; its members consequently resigned, but the king was so averse to the coalition that he asked Mr. Pitt to take himself the office of premier, and endeavor to carry on the government. Honorable as was this offer, it was prudently decUned ; the union of two powerful parties gave the coalition too decided a pre- ponderance in the legislature, and it was probably fore- seen that the coalition ministry, framed of discordant materials, thoroughly disliked by the king, and generally suspected in the country, could not long continue with- out affording an opportunity for effecting its overthrow. If Mr. Pitt had thus calculated, events justified his foresight. Without questioning the merits or policy of Mr. Fox's India bills, it is indisputable that those measures which proposed to transfer great power and great patronage to conjijiissioners named by Pari a!nent — thnt is, in fact, by 272 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the ministry — had some resemblance to a project for rendering an obnoxious cabinet independent of the king, and, perhaps, also of the nation. It was of course vehe- mently opposed by the entire body of East India propri- etors, whose power and pati'onage it gi-eatly curtailed ; the king looked upon it as a plan to deprive him of au- thority, and public opinion stigmatized it as a measure designed to strengthen a party at the expense of the general interest. Hence Mr. Pitt had the support of large sympathies when he struggled against the measure in the House of Commons, although he could not ex- hibit any large minorities of votes. When the bills went up to the Lords, they were defeated by the direct in- terference of the king, and his majesty immediately afterward dismissed his ministers, with, perhaps, an unnecessary display of personal dislike. Mr. Pitt was again offered the place of premier ; this time he accepted it, and at the age of five-and-t\venty he undertook the perilous task of administering the government in defiance of a majority of the House of Commons. Mr. Fox saw that this was to be a decisive sti'uggle almost for political existence, and supported by a phalanx of friends, possessing eloquence, influence, and a majority of votes, he assailed his rival with every weapon which the forms of Parliament placed at his dis- posal. The measures proposed by the minister were rejected, and resolutions were passed censuring him for holding office. Mr. Pitt went through the painful strug- gle with unrivaled fortitude, temper, and patience. He waited until the supplies were voted and the formal business of the session terminated, and he then dissolved the Parliament. The elections gave decisive proof that through his late unprecedented struggle Mr. Pitt had been supported by the nation ; gi-eat numbers of Mr. Fox's friends lost their seats, and in the new Parliament the Pitt adminis- tration had an ovenvhelming majority. Fixed firmly in office, Mr. Pitt zealously exerted himself to remedy the disastrous consequences of the American war, and particularly the gi-eat derangement of the British finances. With true wisdom he resolved to remove the restrictions which fettered British com- WILLIAM PITT. 273 merce, but his enlightened views on this subject were not always received favorably, and the mutual jealousies between the parliaments of England and Ireland pre- vented the success of his celebrated propositions for regulating the commerce of the two countries. His next great effort was to establish a sinking fund for the gradual extinction of the national debt : his plan was received at the time with general applause, but ex- perience has since proved it to be impracticable. It is, however, his best praise to say, that, having found on entering Office an annual deficiency of several millions in the revenue, he in two years not only raised the revenue to the level of the expenditure of the country, but ob- tained a surplus of a million to be apphed to the reduc- tion of the national debt. So general was the satisfac- tion produced, that the opposition scarcely offered any resistance to his measures, and but for the impeachment of Warren Hastings, the parliamentary debates of this period would have been destitute of interest. On the question of impeachment Mr. Pitt at first hesitated, and though he finally gave his vote for the measure, he took no share in its management. Perhaps one of the most honorable events of Mr. Pitt's life was his conclusion of a. treaty of commerce with France, by which numerous prohibitions were removed, and the conditions, upon which the different articles of merchandise were to be mutually admitted into the respective countries, were fixed. It was unfortunate for the fame of Mr. Fox and his friends, that they re- sisted this wise and beneficial measure, on the ground that France and England were " natural and unalterable enemies ;" their frequent and long hostilities ought only to have furnished an additional reason for facilitating that commercial intercourse which is the surest bond of peace between nations. Unfortunately, the French revolution and its long train of continental wars pre- vented this treaty from being effectively carried into operation, but it is not to be made the ground of objec- tion to a salutary measure, that its working was defeated by events which no one could possibly have foreseen. In the midst of his prosperous career of financial reform, Mr. Pitt was suddenly checked by the serious illness of 18 274 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the king, and tlie necessity of providing for a regency. As the Prince of Wales was at this time the intimate friend of all the great leaders of opposition, it was gene- rally believed that on his advent to power he would have changed the ministry ; hence Mr. Pitt labored hard to impose resti-ictions on the regent, while Mr. Fox con- tended that the prince should be invited to assume royal power. Mr. Pitt's form of regency was that which the Parliament approved, but the fortunate recovery of his majesty rendered it unnecessary to put the plan into execution. The disputes with Spain about Nootka Sound, hap- pily terminated by the firmness of the British minister, and some alarm excited by the overweening ambition of Russia, scarcely interrupted the general ti-anquillity of Europe ; but the attention of all began to be fixed on the rapid progress of revolutionary principles in France, which, for a brief season, seemed to promise salutaiy reform, but soon menaced the overthrow of social order. Mr. Pitt did not at first view the progress of the revolu- tion with the alarm which it excited in the minds of the great majority of his supporters, and though he ap- plauded Mr. Burke's conduct in seceding from those who viewed the proceedings of the French with appro- bation, he did not encourage the proposals for declaring war ; on the contrary, he took occasion, in the session of 1792, to declare that he saw nothing likely to disturb the prospects of continued peace. But he showed in the same session some apprehen- sion at the spread of republican opinions in England, and made this his excuse for abandoning the cause of parlia- mentary reform which he had previously supported. It must be confessed that his apprehensions were not gi'oundless ; societies had been formed to spread dan- gerous doctrines, and the proceedings of these bodies were directed by men of very questionable prudence. While the increasing violence of the French, and the cruelty which they showed to then* unhappy sovereign, filled the minds of most thinking men with alarm, some of these societies publicly expressed approbation of those dange- rous proceedings, and, though they formed but a miser- able minority in the nation, their activity and clamor WILLIAM PITT. 275 for a long time concealed the deficiency of their num- bers. Toward the close of the year 1792, all prospects of being able to remain at peace with France had disap- peared. Both nations were clamorous for war, and the rulers of both made no effort to restrain their hostile passions. When intelligence of the execution of Louis XVI. reached London, the metropolis exhibited an almost universal sadness, as if England had suffered some great national calamity; but this soon gave way to feelings of indignation and resentment, which were aggravated by the intemperate language of the leaders of the French Convention. The very form in which this body chose to announce the commencement of hos- tilities, was calculated to provoke a loyal people ; on the 1st of February, 1793, they proclaimed war against the King of Great Britain and the Stadlholder of Holland, thus attempting to establish an insidious distinction be- tween the people and their sovereign. Though Pitt may be said to have been forced into this war, he showed no want of spirit or firmness in defend- ing its policy or providing resources for its maintenance. Fresh taxes were imposed, large loans raised, and all the resources of the empire strained to the utmost. Severe measures of repression were adopted against those ac- cused of disseminating French principles in England ; but, in some instances, the excess of precaution defeated its own object, and the acquittal of Hardy, Home Tooke, and others who had been indicted for high treason, great- ly weakened the moral influence of the ministry. We need not here enter into the history of the war ; though Great Britain maintained her supremacy by sea, the enemy triumphed over the Continental powers on land, and thus rendered perseverance hopeless. Pitt also had many difficulties to contend against at home : the scarcity of money, arising from the heavy loans to defray Conti- nental subsidies, led to a suspension of cash payments in 1797; dangerous mutinies broke out in the fleet; Ire- land was convulsed by a perilous insurrection, and two bad harvests in succession spread scarcity through the land. The premier undauntedly faced all these calami- ties ; having in vain endeavored to open negotiations for 276 MODERN BRITISH PLL'TARCH. peace with the French government, through Lord Mal- mesbury, he appealed to the indomitable spirit of the English people, and received in turn an amount of sup- port which was quite unprecedented. A duel with Mr. Tierney, to whom he had imputed factious motives, was a proof of intemperate rashness rather than personal courage ; but it increased his popularity at a time when a military spirit was rife throughout the nation. But the measure most creditable to the character of Mr. Pitt as a statesman was the union between England and Ireland, which had long been contemplated, but which, since the suppression of the insurrection of 1798, had become a matter of obvious necessity. It must be confessed that some of the means employed to insure success are open to censure ; but the mutual benefits which the union has conferred on both countries are equally great and palpable. It was part of Mr. Pitt's plan to grant those concessions to the Catholics, usually included in the term " Catholic Emancipation;" but he found, very unexpectedly, that the king entertained in- superable objections to any such proposal. A corre- spondence ensued between the king and the minister ; neither was willing to yield, and Mr. Pitt in consequence resigned his office. The king's agitation on the occasion was so gi-eat as to bring on a temporary return of the mental indisposition to which he was subject. Mr. Ad- dington, afterward Lord Sidmouth, succeeded to the office of premier, and Mr. Pitt for a time appeared to give his cordial support to the new administration. The peace of Amiens, concluded under the auspices of Mr. Addington in 1802, was accepted as a welcome respite both in France and England. In fact, the two bellige- rent powers had scarcely the means of carrying on an active war against each other : without any aUies or auxiliaries on the Continent, England could not hope to touch France by land ; with fleets ruined or blockaded, with a navy completely disheartened, France could as little expect to assail England by sea. Mr. Pitt justified the ministry in yielding to such an obvious necessity, and defended the articles of the peace against his old colleagues, Mr. Windham and Lord Grenville. But the ambition of Napoleon, after he had been elected First WILLIAM PITT. 277 Consul for life, became so manifest, and so perilous to the independence of the European states, that a renewal of the war became inevitable. When hostilities com- menced, a general conviction was spread abroad that the Addington administration was inadequate to the crisis, and it was hoped that the leading statesmen of all parties would combine to form a cabinet. Pitt, without formally joining Fox and Lord Grenville, went into opposition, and the king saw that it would be necessary to form a new cabinet. Great difficulties arose ; the king was as averse as ever to Cathohc emancipation, and he was still more averse to receiving Fox as one of his minis- ters. After a long delay, which the nation bore with great impatience, Pitt yielded to the royal prejudices, and thus alienated from himself his old friends the Gren- villes, who refused to support or belong to any adminis- tration in which Mr. Fox was not included. But though restored to office, and assured of the royal support, Pitt felt his ministerial position to be one of extreme difficulty. His majorities were small, and all his influence was insufficient to save his friend Lord Melville from a parliamentary impeachment. This, and some similar mortifications, preyed upon his health, and he was obliged to gb to Bath to try the efi'ect of its sanatory waters. But events of greater magnitude soon overwhelmed him ; the great coalition of Russia and Austria, which he had organized against France, was shattered to pieces by the disasti'ous battles of Ulm and Austerlitz ; when Parliament assembled in Januaiy, 1806, he was unable to attend, and his sickness increas- ed so rapidly that he died on the twenty-third of the month, in the forty-seventh year of his age. The abilities and the integrity of this great man have never been questioned ; but he has been accused of com- promising his principles through love of power. It must, however, be acknowledged that he did not seek power for the sake of the emoluments of office, or from any selfish motive : he died deeply involved in debt; but Parliament voted a sum sufficient to pay his creditors, and his remains were honored with a public funeral and a tomb in Westminster Abbey. It was, perhaps, a dis- advantage to Mr. Pitt that he attained the summit of A A 278 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. power too early iu life ; a previous training in some sub- ordinate situation would have given him those habits of discipline and order which are necessary to the execu- tion of gi-eat projects. He was compelled to ti'ust too much to others in matters of detail, and he was far from being happy in his selection of instruments. He may be said to have been killed by the enemy, though he did not fall in battle ; but had not his constitution been pre- viously weakened from other causes, he might have sur- vived to witness the unexpected triumph of European independence over the despotism of France ; this was the great object of his policy, and, fortunately, not only for England, but the world, it was not abandoned by his successors. SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. The family of this distinguished lawyer emigi-ated from France to escape from the persecutions to which the Protestants of that country were exposed after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV. Many of the Protestant emigrants settled in or near London, and entered into business : their sufferings, their piety and integrity, saved them from the jealousy with which Englishmen too often regard foreigners ; and many of them became founders of families which have since risen to wealth and distinction. The father of the subject of our history was a jeweler of some eminence ; he pos- sessed great intelligence, and still greater amiability of character, and was fondly loved, not only by his family, but by all who had an opportunity of making his ac- quaintance. Out of nine children, the three youngest alone survived infancy, and for this reason they were regarded with peculiar fondness by their parents. Sam- uel, who was born in 1757, has given a ver}'^ interesting account of his early years. His affections were more sedulously cultivated than his intellect, and it cost him much labor in later life to overcome the defects of his scholastic education. At first he was associated with his father in business, and finding that he had much leis- ure time at his disposal, he commenced a laborious course of classical, varied by more miscellaneous studies ; and thus laid the foundation of that extensive knowledge by which he was preeminently distinguished in the legal profession. Though he disliked his father's business, he attended to it steadily, until the bequest of a relative furnished him with the means of seeking a more con- 280 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. genial pursuit. His father complied with his desires, and articled him to one of the Six Clerlis in Chancery, with the intention of purchasing him one of those offices, so soon as he attained a proper age. The business of a Chancery clerk being restricted to a narrow compass, Romilly employed all his leisure hours in study, and for a time fixed his ambition on literary hfe. While thus engaged, he became intimate with the Rev. Mr. Roget, a native of Geneva, who had been appointed minister of the French chapel which the Romilly family attended. Roget was a gentleman of extensive acquirements and refined taste. He soon be- came interested in Romilly's studies, and stimulated him to perseverance by predictions of future success. Their friendship was further cemented by the marriage of this estimable clergyman with Romilly's sister, soon after which Romilly resolved to renounce the Six Clerks' Office, and try his fortune as a barrister. His chief mo- tive for this change was a generous reluctance to subject his father to inconvenience by taking from him the sum uecessaiy to purchase the office of a sworn clerk ; and thus his subsequent success in life may, in some meas- ure, be ascribed to the tenderness of his filial piety. At the age of twenty-one he became a student in Gray's Inn ; and while he eagerly devoted himself to the acqui- sition of legal lore, he lost no opportunity of adding to his store of general knowledge. His labors at length became too great for his health, and this occurred at a time when the serious illness of Roget rendered it neces- sary for him to remove to Geneva, for the benefit of his native air. Before Romilly had recovered, he was re- quested to bring Roget's little son to Geneva, that his parents might have the consolation of his company. This tour had the effect of restoring his health, and of introducing him to many eminent persons at Geneva and at Paris, through wiiich he passed on his return. Through Roget, he made the acquaintance of Dumont, to whom he became strongly attached. In Paris he met Diderot and D'Alembert, then the most eminent wi'iters remaining in France. He admired the abilities of these great men, without being corrupted by their infidel principles ; indeed, their extravagance served SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 281 rather to confirm his belief in the ti'uths of the Chris- tian religion. Romilly was called to the bar in 3 783, but was pre- vented from going his first circuit by the death of his brother-in-law, and the consequent necessity of bringing home his sister from Geneva. In this brief tour he made the acquaintance of Dr. Frankhn at Paris, and appears to have acquired the favorable opinions of that philosopher. On his return to England he was intro- duced to the celebrated Mirabeau, and undertook to translate the count's pamphlet against the order of the Cincinnati, then recently estabhshed in America. This led to considerable intimacy, and Romilly had the dis- crimination to profit by Mirabeau's noble qualities with- out being injured by the vices by which these qualities were debased. About the same time Mr. Romilly pub- hshed some ti-acts on constitutional law, which procured him the friendship of the first Lord Lansdowne, from which, however, the principal advantage he derived, was some valuable letters of introduction when he vis- ited Paris for the third time in 1788. At this period the French monarchy was evidently about to undergo some gi-eat change, the effects of which must depend on the character of those who guided the revolution. Notwith- standing his ardent love of liberty, Romilly had little con- fidence in the prudence of those to whom the destinies of France were intrusted ; and at a subsequent visit he saw much to diminish his hopes and to increase his fears. We have no accurate information respecting the early part of this great lawyer's career at the bar. His pro- gress as a barrister on circuit was very slow, but in chancery his talents were earlier discerned, and he soon began to confine all his attention to that court. As his talents gi-adually becaine known, his business rapidly increased, and he was already regarded as one of the most eminent of his profession, in 1798, when he- mar- ried Miss Garbett, to whom he had long been fondly attached. His political opinions identified him with the Whig party, and he lived on terms of intimacy with most^'of its leaders ; but he was not the less esteemed by their opponents, and he reckoned Wilberforce, Thorn- ton, and many others, among the number of his friends. A A 2 282 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. During the bi'ief peace of 1802, he again visited Pa- ris, and unUke many of his pohtical associates, conceived a hearty dislike for Bonaparte, whom he regarded as a usurper and a tyrant. Nevertheless, he deprecated the renewal of the war with France, but took no public part in opposition. In 1805, the Bishop of Durham, with- out any solicitation, offered him the chancellorship of that diocese, which he accepted, though with some re- luctance ; and in the autumn of the same year he was proffered a seat in Parliament by the Prince of Wales. With his usual good sense, he declined this offer ; for, though anxious to obtain a seat in Parliament, he was very unwilling to appear as any person's nominee. The prince was not offended ; for when Fox's administration was formed, he was the chief agent in procuring for Romilly the office of solicitor-general. In April, 1806, he was elected, by the influence of the ministry, for the borough of Queenborough, and immediately after taking his seat, was appointed one of the committee for con- ducting the impeachment of Lord Melville. At the same time he took a share in the " delicate investiga- tion" into the conduct of the Princess af Wales. In his diary he recorded his conviction of that unhappy lady's innocence of the charges which at this time were brought against her ; though he intimates that she showed a gi-eat deficiency of prudence and delicacy. It is more honorable to his character to state, that he took a lead- ing part in the final effort made for the abolition of the slave-ti'ade ; and his speeches on the occasion ai'e be- lieved to have greatly swelled the majority by which that measure was triumphantly carried. When the Whig administration was dissolved in 1807, Romilly lost his office and his seat in Parliament; he therefore, as he had often declared his intention of doing, purchased the representation of the borough of Hors- ham, but was subsequently unseated on petition. " Du- ring the short time I was out of Parliament," he records in his diaiy, " I regi-etted very much that I had made no attempt to mitigate the severity of the criminal law. It appeared to me, that merely to have brought the sub- ject under the view of the public, and to have made it a matter of parliamentary discussion, would, though my SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 283 motion had been rejected, have been attended with good effects. On coming again into Parhament, therefore, 1 determined to resume my original design. In the mean- time, I had had some conversation on the subject with my friend Scarlett (the late Lord Abinger), and he had advised me not to content myself with merely raising the amount of the value of property, the stealing of which is to subject the offender to capital punishment, but to attempt at once to repeal all the statutes which punish with death mere thefts, unaccompanied by any act of violence, or other circumstance of aggravation. This suggestion was very agi-eeable to me : but, as it appear- ed to me that I had no chance of being able to cany through the house a bill which was to expunge at once all these laws from the statute-book, I determined to attempt the repeal of them one by one, and to begin with the most odious of them, the act of Queen Eliza- beth, which makes it a capital offence to steal privately from the person of another." In this passage, written on the day when he was elect- ed for Wareham, Sir Samuel Romilly describes the task to which he devoted the greater part of the years of his valuable life. The wisdom of rejecting the advice of his too ardent friend was fully proved, in the obstinate re- sistance which most of the proposed measures had to encounter. Session after session, the unwearied philan- thropist proclaimed the sad waste of human life produ- ced by the indiscriminate severity of the criminal code, and showed that this severity only tended to encourage crime by deterring injured parties from prosecuting, and juries from convicting ; so that the criminal's chances of escape were indefinitely multiplied. He met a long continuance of disappointments ; for, after his measures had passed the ordeal of the House of Commons, they were almost certain of being rejected in the Lords, by the influence of Lords Eldon and Ellenborough. On the occasion of renewing his efforts to promote the pass- ing of three bills, which had been rejected in a previous session, he said, "It is not from light motives that I have presumed to reconnnend an alteration in a matter so important as the criminal law of the land. I have always thought that it was the duty of every man to use 284 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. the means wliicli he possessed for the purpose of ad- vancing the well-being of his fellow-creatures ; and I am not aware of any way in which I can advance that well- being so eftectually as by adopting the course which I now pursue. Lord Coke used to say, that he considered every man who was successful in his profession was under an obligation to benefit society ; and the works which that gi-eat and learned man produced, after a life of labor in the high situation in which he was placed, were his mode of paying the social debt. So, for myself, my suc- cess and my good fortune in my profession have laid me under a debt to the society among whom I live ; and the way in which I intend to discharge that obligation is, by endeavoring to meliorate the law, and thus to in- crease the security and happiness of my countiy. It is not a Httle that will discourage me. I am not to be dis- couraged by the consideration that I have hitherto spent a great deal of time on this subject, without doing much good." The criminal law did not, however, engi-oss the whole of this great statesman's attention ; he took an active part in the leading questions of the day, and was always heard with respect even by the ministers whom he op- posed. It would lead us too far into mere political dis- cussion to dweU on these parts of his parliamentary career, but we may mention his exertions to improve the bankrupt-laws, to procure a more efficient adminis- tration of justice in the Court of Chancery, and to protect the rights of the industrious poor. Popular con- stituencies began now to look to him as a worthy repre- sentative ; some steps were taken to secure his election for Middlesex, which proved abortive, but at Bristol, where he stood a contest, he would have been returned but for an unexpected coalition between the other can- didates. He was then, through the interest of the Duke of Norfolk, chosen member for Arundel. At the close of the year 1812, Romilly recorded the following beautiful prayer in his diary, which we extract as a fine illustration of his noble character : — "Almighty God! Creator of all things! the source of all wisdom, and goodness, and virtue, and happiness ! I bow down before Thee — not to offer up prayers, for I SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 285 dare not presume to think, or hope, that Thy most just, unerring, and supreme will can be in any degree influ- enced by any supplications of mine, — nor to pour forth praises and adorations, for I feel that I am unworthy to offer them ; but in all humility, and with a deep sense of my own insignificance, to express the thanks of a con- tented and happy being, for the innumerable benefits which he enjoys. I cannot reflect that I am a human being, living in civilized society, born the member of a free state, the son of virtuous and tender parents, blest Avith an ample fortune, endowed with faculties which have enabled me to acquire that fortune myself, enjoy- ing a fair reputation, beloved by my relations, esteemed by my friends, thought w^ell of by most of my country- men to whom my name is known, united to a kind, virtuous, enlightened, and most affectionate wife, the father of seven children, all in perfect health, and all giving, by the goodness of their dispositions, a promise of future excellence, and though myself far advanced in life, yet still possessed of health and strength, which seem to aflbrd me the prospect of future years of enjoy- ment : I cannot reflect on these things, and not express my gratitude to Thee, O God ! from whom all this good has flowed. I am sincerely grateful for all this happi- ness. I am sincerely grateful for the happiness of all those who are most dear to me, of my beloved wife, of my sweet children, of my relations, of my friends. " I prostrate myself, O Almighty and Omniscient God, before Thee. In endeavoring to contemplate Thy di- vine attributes, I seek to elevate my soul toward Thee : I seek to improve and ennoble my faculties, and to strengthen and quicken my ardor for the public good : and 1 appear to myself to rise above my earthly exist- ence, while I am indulging the hope, that I may at some time prove a humble instrument in the divine work of enlarging the sphere of human happiness." Sir Samuel Romilly was opposed to the renewal of the war against France after Napoleon had returned from Elba; and when the fate of the emperor was de- cided at Waterloo, he generously exerted himself to insure the safety of those Frenchmen Avho had endan- gered themselves by the part they had taken against the 286 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Bourbons. He brought the persecutions to which the French Protestants in the department- of the Gard were exposed, under the notice of Parliament ; and though he encountered much obloquy, his efforts induced the min- isters of Louis XVIII. to grant protection to the injured Protestants. His humanity was also displayed in exer- tions to procure some securities for the negroes of the West Indies, against the despotic power of their mas- ters. But his greatest parliamentaiy efforts were ex- erted against the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, and the other measures of repression introduced by the ministers to check the political agitation, which, in 1817, appeared to menace the peace of the country. From his first entrance into Parliament, he had been the con- sistent supporter of Catholic Emancipation ; and in the session of 1817, he was a closer attendant on the House of Commons, and a more frequent speaker, than in any previous part of his parliamentaiy career. On the dis- solution of Parliament in 1818, he was elected member for Westminster, free of expense. The contest was severe, but Romilly stood at the head of the poll. But this ti'iumph was soon clouded over ; the wife to whom he was so fondly attached was taken ill, and she died on the 29th of October, 1818. His anxiety, during her sickness, preyed upon his mind, and aflected his health, and the shock occasioned by her death produced a nei*v- ous excitement, which ended in a derangement of his intellects. While his reason was thus affected, he com- mitted suicide on the 2d of November, 1818, in the sixty- second year of his age. Rarely has a statesman fallen so universally regretted as Sir Samuel Romilly ; his eminent abilities, his un- swerving integrity, his enlightened philanthropy, and his devotion to what he believed the real good of his countiy, were recognized by men of all parties ; but though he fell prematurely, his work was done. The amehorations for which he had so earnestly contended during life, became the law of the land not many years after his death ; thus exemplifying the fine aphorism of Grattan, " The labors of the patriot, like the words of the prophet, will not die with the holy man, but will sur- vive him." SIR WALTER SCOTT, The life of an author, who took no active part in pub- lic affairs, but sent forth from his own fireside those marvels of imagination which have afforded delight and instruction to millions, furnishes interest of a different kind from the biographies of those whose names are as- sociated with great events. We look more to the man than to his age ; we endeavor to trace the circumstances by which his mind was moulded, and his tastes formed, and we feel anxious to discover the connection between his literary and his personal history and character. There have been few authors in whose career this con- nection was more strongly apparent than in Sir Walter Scott ; his life is, to a great extent, identified with his writings, and this appears to be the source of that feel- ing of truth and reality which is forced upon us while perusing his fictions. He was born at Edinburgh, Au- gust 15th, 1771 ; his father was one of that respectable class of attorneys called, in Scotland, writers to the sig- net, and was the original, from whom his son subse- quently drew the character of Mr. Saunders Fairford in " Redgauntlet." His mother was a lady of taste and imagination ; an accidental lameness, and a delicate con- stitution, procured for Walter a more than ordinary por- tion of maternal care, and the influence of his mother's instructions was strongly impressed on his character. In early childhood he was sent for change of air to the country-seat of his maternal grandfather, where he first developed his extraordinary powers of memory by learn- ing the ti'aditionary legends of border heroism and chiv- 288 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. airy, which used to be recited at the fireside, on a win- ter's evening. His early taste for the romantic was a little checked, when he returned to Edinburgh in his eighth year, for his father was rather a strict adherent to forms, and looked upon poeti-y and fiction as very questionable indulgencies. The discovery of a copy of Shakspeare, and an odd volume of Percy's " Relics," enabled him to resume his favorite pursuits, though the hours he devoted to them were stolen from sleep. He was sent at an early age to the High School of Edin- burgh, but was not particularly distinguished in the regu- lar course of study. His companions, however, soon discovered his antiquarian tastes, and his passionate love for old tales of chivalry, and old chronicles scarcely less romantic ; he became noted, too, for reciting stories of his own invention, in which he inti"oduced a superabun- dance of the marvels of ancient superstition, with a plen- tiful seasoning of knight-errantry. He even pursued his favorite subject into the continental languages, and by his own exertions, enabled himself to peruse the works of Ariosto and Cervantes in their original form. After a brief residence at the University, he was in- dented as an apprentice to his father in 1786. Though the daily routine of drudgery in an attorney's office must have been painful to a young man of ardent imag- ination, he did not neglect any of the tasks which his father imposed, and he thus formed habits of method, punctuality, and laborious industiy, which were import- ant elements of his future success. But, in the midst of these duties, he did not lose sight of the favorite ob- jects of his study and meditation. He made frequent excursions into the lowland and highland districts, in search of traditionary lore •, his investigations led him to the cottage of the peasant as frequently as to the houses of the better class, and his frank manners se- cured him a favorable reception from all. In 1792, he changed his profession for that of an advo- cate, but did not obtain much practice at the Scottish bar. His first publication was a translation from the German ; Biirger's wild romantic ballads captivated his youthful imagination, and his version of them proved that he entered deeply into the spirit of the original. SIR WALTER SCOTT. 289 Soon afterward, he contributed some pieces to Lewis's " Tales of Wonder," which are almost the only frag- ments of that work which have escaped oblivion. At last, in 1802, he gave to the world the two first volumes of his "Border Minstrelsy," printed by his old school- fellow, Ballantyne ; its literary merits were enhanced by the beauty of its typogi'aphical execution, and its appearance made an epoch in Scottish hterary history. The ballads of this collection had been very carefully edited, while the notes contained a mass of antiquarian information relative to border life, conveyed in a beau- tiful style, and enlivened with a higher interest than poetic fiction. This work at once obtained an extensive sale, and its popularity was increased by the appearance of the third volume, containing various imitations of the old ballad by Mr. Scott, in which the feelings and char- acter of antiquity were faithfully preserved, while the language and expression were free from the roughness of obsolete forms. The copyright of the second edition was sold to the Messrs. Longman for five hundred pounds, but the great extent of the sale made the bar- gain profitable. Three years elapsed before he again took the field as an author ; but the poem which he then produced, at once placed him among the gi-eat original wi'iters of his country. "The Lay of the I^ast Minstrel" was a complete expansion of the old ballad into an epic form. "It seemed," says Prescott, "as if the author had ti-ansfused into his page the strong delineations of the Homeric pencil, the rude but generous gallantry of a primitive period, softened by the more airy and magical inventions of Italian romance, and conveyed in tones of melody, such as had not been heard since the strains of Burns." Its popularity was unprecedented, and its success determined the course of his future life. Scott's position enabled him to encounter the hazards of literary life with comparative safety. He held two offices, that of sheriff of Selkirk, and clerk of the Court of Sessions, which yielded him a competent income; he received some accession to his fortune on his mar- riage, and the tastes of his lady prevented her from indulging in any of the extravagance of fashionable life. 19 Bb 290 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Domestic happiness and rural retirement were favor- able to literary exertion; he soon produced a second poem, " Marmion," which many critics prefer to all his other poems. It was, however, rather harshly at- tacked in the "Edinburgh Review" on its first appear- ance, which the author felt keenly, as he had been himself a contributor to that journal. Scott indeed disapproved of the political principles advocated by the " Edinburgh Review," and had for some time contem- plated the organization of a rival journal. This was the origin of the " Quarterly Review," which was established mainly in consequence of his exertions. About the same time he established a new "Annual Register," and became a silent partner in the great printing estab- lishment of the Ballantynes. This last step involved him in grievous embarrassments, but it stimulated him to exertions such as none but a man of his prodigious powers could attempt. His biographical, historical, and critical labors, united with his editorial toils, were of appalling magnitude, but in all his works he proved himself to be vigorous and effective. "Poetry," he says in one of his letters, " is a scourging crop, and ought not to be hastily repeated. Editing, therefore, may be considered as a green crop of turnips or peas, extremely useful to those whose circumstances do not admit of giving then- farm a summer-fallow." The " Lady of the Lake" was his next poem ; it appeared in 1811, and soon outstripped all his former productions in fame and popularity. More than fifty thousand copies of it have been sold, and the profits of the author exceeded two thousand guineas. It may be noticed as a curious proof of the effect it produced on the public mind, that the post-horse duty rose to an extraordinary degree in Scotland, from the eagerness of travelers to visit the localities described in the poem. He was now at the zenith of his fame, but at this moment a new star arose above the literary horizon, whose eccentiic course and dazzling radiance completely bewildered the spectator. Lord Byron published his "Childe Harold" in 1812, and thus created a complete revolution in the poetic taste of the country. He called attention from the outward form of man and external SIR WALTER SCOTT. 291 nature, to the secret depths of the soul and the darkest recesses of its passions. Strains of such immense power, and varied harmony, destroyed the reUsh for the purer but tamer poetry of Scott. The sale of his next poem, "Rokeby," showed that his popularity had de- clined, and when this was followed by the comparative failure of the " Lord of the Isles," he resolved to abandon the field of poetry, and seek for fame in another form of composition. Ten years before this period he had commenced the novel of " Waverley," and thrown the manuscript aside; having accidentally discovered the unfinished romance amid the old lumber of a garret, he completed it for the press in 1814, and published it anonymously. Its ap- pearance created a greater sensation, and marks a more distinct epoch in literary history than that of his poetry. It was the gi-eat object of his ambition to become a landowner, and to hold a high rank, not among the literary characters, but the country gentlemen of Scot- land, and this was one of the causes of his being anxious to keep the authorship of his novels a profound secret. The same ambition stimulated him to exertion ; he produced in rapid succession " Guy Mannering," " The Antiquary," " Rob Roy," and the " Tales of my Land- lord" in three series, and at the same time published several pieces in his own name to increase the mystifi- cation of the public. But his incognito was soon de- tected ; long before he avowed his romances, the world generally had found out his secret; indeed, when he was created a baronet in 1820, it was universally under- stood that this honor was conferred on him as author of the Waverley novels. It is not necessary to enumerate all the fictions that emanated from the brilliant imagination of the Northern Enchanter ; the list would be too long, but we must not omit to notice the energy with which he labored. Even illness, that would have broken the spirits of most men, as it prostrated the physical energies of Scott, opposed no impediment to the progress of his compositions. When he could not write he could dictate ; and in this way, amid the agonies of a racking disease, he com- posed the "Bride of Lammermoor," "The Legend of 292 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Montrose," and a gi-eat part of the most fascinating of his works, " Ivanhoe." Never, certainly, did mind exhibit so decisive a ti'iumph over physical suffering. " Be assured," he remarked to Mr. Gilhes, " that if pain could have prevented my application to literaiy labor, not a page of ' Ivanhoe' would have been written. Now if I had given way to mere feelings, and ceased to work, it is a question whether the disorder would not have taken deeper root, and become incurable." To extend the estate of Abbotsford> and to decorate the baronial mansion which he had erected on this favorite spot, seemed to be the chief objects of his life. The furniture and decorations were of the costliest kind ; the wainscots of oak and cedar, or woods of dif- ferent dyes ; the ceilings fretted and carved with the delicate tracery of a Gothic abbey ; the windows bla- zoned with heraldic decoration ; the walls garnished with antiquarian trophies, curiosities of art, or volumes in the most sumptuous bindings. Everything that lux- ury could command or ingenuity devise was lavished on this favorite spot, with a profusion which profits less enormous than those he derived from his novels could not have supported. The crowds of visitors that flocked to Abbotsford, from all quarters, gi'eatly added to the expenses which the hospitable owner had to meet ; but the unbounded popularity of his novels appeared to him and to his pub- lishers a never-failing supply of funds ; and the Messrs. Constable accepted his drafts to the amount of many thousand pounds, in favor of works which were not only unwritten, but even unimagined. Unfortunately, Scott, in return, could not refuse to indorse the drafts of his publishers, and thus an amount of liabilities was in- curred which would appear quite inexplicable, if expe- rience had not shown that the dangerous facilities of accommodation bills lead men on to an extent that they never discover, until the crash comes. In the gi'eat commercial crisis of 1825, Constable's house stopped payment ; the assets proved to be very trifling in com- parison with the debts, and Sir Walter Scott was found to be responsible to the startling amount of one hundred thousand pounds ! SIR WALTER SCOTT. 293 His conduct on this occasion was truly noble ; he put up his house and furniture in Edinburgh to auction, — delivered over his personal effects, plate, books, furni- ture, &c., to be held in trust for his creditors, — the estate itself had been settled on his eldest son when he married, — and bound himself to discharge annually a certain amount of the liabilities of the insolvent firm. He then, with his characteristic energy, set about the performance of his herculean task. He took cheap lodgings, abridged his usual enjoyments and recreations, and labored harder than ever. The death of his be- loved lady increased the gloom which the change of circumstances produced, but though he sorrowed he did not relax his exertions ; one of his first tasks was the " Life of Bonaparte," which he completed in the short space of thirteen months. For this he received from the publishers the sum of fourteen thousand pounds, and such w^as its great circulation that they had no reason to repent of their bargain. In the same year that this work appeared, he took an opportunity of publicly avowing his authorship of the Waverley Novels, declaring " that their merits, if they had any, and their faults were entirely imputable to himself." Sir Walter Scott's celebrity made everything that he produced acceptable to the public. He did not allow these favorable impressions to fade for want of exercise, and the list of the works, great and small, which he produced to satisfy his creditors, is an unexampled in- stance of successful labors. No one of these enter- prises was so profitable as the republication of his novels in a uniform series, with his own notes and illustrations; there have been several successive editions of this series, and its sale still continues to be very great. It was not given to Sir "Walter Scott to see the complete restoration of his former position ; his exer- tions were too severe, and pressed heavily on the springs of health, already deprived by age of their elas- ticity and vigor. In the short space of six years he had, by his sacrifices and exertions, discharged more than two-thirds of the debt for which he was responsible, and he had fair prospects of relieving himself from the entire. But in 1831 he was seized with a terrible 294 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. attack of paralysis, to which his family had a constitu- tional tendency, and he was advised to try the effect of a more genial climate in Southern Europe. The British government placed a ship at his disposal, to convey him to Italy ; and, when he came to London, men of eveiy class and party vied with each other in expressing sympathy for his sufferings and hopes for his recovery. In Italy he was received with the greatest enthu- siasm, and under the influence of its sunny skies he seemed, for a while, to be gathering strength. But his heart was in his own home at Abbotsford, and his long- ings to return began manifestly to affect his health. The heat of the weather and the rapidity with which he traveled, brought on another shock, which reduced him to a state of deplorable imbecility. In this con- dition he was brought back to his own haUs, where the sight of early friends, and of the beautiful scenery, the creation as it were of his own hands, seemed to revive a gleam of his former spirit. But the hopes which this partial recovery inspired proved ti-ansitory ; he gradu- ally sunk into total insensibility. To his situation might be applied the exquisite verses which he wrote himself on another melancholy occasion : — " Yet not the landscape, to mine eye, Bears those bright hues that once it bore ; Though evening, with her richest dye, Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore. With listless look along the plain, I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruined pride. The quiet lake, the balmy air, The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree ; Aire they still such as once they were, Or is the dreary change in me ?" Providence, in its mercy, did not suffer the shattered frame long to outlive the glorious spirit by which it had been animated. Sir Walter Scott breathed his last on the 20th of September, 1832. His remains were de- posited, as he had always desired, in the hoary Abbey of Dryburgh ; and the pilgi-im from mr.ny a distant SIR WALTER SCOTT. 295 -sbrifte shall repair to the ts^efe-Vhich his remains have consecrated, so long as the reverence for exalted genius and worth shall survive in the human heart. The leading quality in Sir Walter Scott's character was energy : in his youth, it enabled him to triumph over lameness, and to become conspicuous in athletic exercises; in mature age, it enabled him to triumph over the difficulties which beset any of the varied enterprises in which he engaged. Everything around him was the creation of his own individual exertions, and he not only framed the general project, but super- intended the most minute details. His heart over- flowed with benevolence and kindly feelings, and this precious quality rendered him even more delightful in the social circle than his exalted intellect. No man had a higher sense of honor; it was with him a realiza- tion of the fabled principle of chivalry ; and akin to this were his feelings of loyalty, which more than bordered on the romantic. His religion was shown in his daily practice of Chris- tian charity, and in the reverence which he everywhere testifies for the tniths of Revelation. His intellectual qualities need not be described ; they are embodied in a series of works, known as extensively, and likely to live as long, as our language. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. It was said, by an ancient moralist, that Prudence alone can render men independent of the chances and accidents of fortune ; on the other hand, the lives of many men eminent for their genius, their abilities, and their acquirements, contain sad proofs that indiscretion and habits of self-indulgence may frustrate the noblest gifts of nature, and render useless the best opportuni- ties for advancement. It is a melancholy but instruc- tive task to contemplate the spectacle of gi'eat minds enslaved by habits, imperceptibly formed, easy to be conquered in the beginning, but finally acquiring such strength from indulgence as to be almost in-esistible. Such habits have been compared by an eminent writer to the chains with which the Lilliputians, in Swift's celebrated romance, bound Gulliver down to the earth. He could have easily broken each fetter separately, but their united force manacled him in every limb. The impressive lesson to be learned from such a spectacle is, the necessity of subduing bad habits by early resistance, and of training that strength of mind which, by resisting temptations in youth, secures the firmness of character, which is the brightest ornament and best support of mature age. To the want of such training must be ascribed the unequal life, and the unhappy end of the most brilliant orator of the past generation ; and hence, while we reverently pay homage to the lofty eloquence, the brilliant wit, and the kindly affections of Sheridan, we must not shrink from exposing those delinquencies RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 297 and failings, which rendered such noble qualities un- profitable to the public and unavailing to the possessor. Richard Brinsley Sheridan was boi-n in Dublin, September, 1751 ; his grandfather had been the friend of Swift ; his father, on the stage, was regarded as a worthy rival of Garrick, but toward the close of his life he devoted himself to literary pursuits, and published several valuable works on subjects connected with edu- cation. Mrs. Sheridan was a woman of considerable talents, and wrote some tales of very great and ac- knowledged merit. In his earlier years, however, Sheridan gave little promise of the excellence to which he subsequently attained ; at Mr. Whyte's school in Dublin he was regarded as little better than a dunce. When his parents removed to England, Sheridan was sent to Harrow school, where the celebrated Dr. Parr was, at that time, one of the under-masters. This eminent scholar and divine discovered, under all the indolence and carelessness of Sheridan, the great talents which he possessed, and, in conjunction with the head- master. Dr. Sumner, endeavored to rouse him to a consciousness of his powers. In this benevolent effort these excellent teachers to some extent succeeded ; but unfortunately the regularity of habits necessary for study were alien to the disposition of the young man's mind. After leaving Harrow, Sheridan received some further instruction at home, and about the same time he formed a kind of literary partnership with Halhed, afterward a judge in India. Many works were pro- jected by these youthful adventurers, but none appears to have been completed except a translation of the " Epistles of Aristoenetus," an author of little merit, who wrote in the declining age of ancient literature. The translation was written in a florid, not to say turgid style, and found little favor with the public. At Bath, whither Mr. Sheridan had removed with his family, the young Sheridans became acquainted with the fascinating Miss Linley, who soon engaged the affections of Richard, and also of his brother. Many suitors com- peted for this lady's hand, but Richard Sheridan was destined to win the prize ; he persuaded her to elope with him to France, where they were privately mar- 298 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. lied by a Catholic priest, in March, 1772. This act of iiTiprudence was soon followed by a duel with Captain Matthews, who, though a married man, had made im- proper advances to the lady. The combatants, dissat- isfied with the result, fought a second time, and Sheri- dan was severely wounded. This led to the discovery of the secret marriage with Miss Linley ; the lady having called him her " husband" when first she heard of his danger. The parents on both sides were averse to the union, but finally yielded to the ardent supplica- tions of the young people ; on the 13th of April, 1773, they were remanied according to the English ritual, and though their income was precarious and slender, Sheridan would not allow his wife to increase it by continuing in her profession as a singer. In Januaiy, 1775, Sheridan's comedy of the " Rivals" was produced at Covent Garden, and though at first unsuccessful, it soon rose to the highest rank in public favor. He now looked forward to obtaining fame and fortune as a dramatist ; he produced the clever fai'ce of " St. Patrick's Day," and the opera of the " Duenna," one of the best operas in the English language, com- bining in an unrivaled degree the merits of legitimate comedy, with the attractions of poetry and song. The music of this opera was composed by Mr. Linley. In 1776, Sheridan bought a share in Druiy-lane Theati'e, for 10,000Z., but how he contrived to raise this large sum is an impenetrable mystery. In the following year he produced his " School for Scandal," the best comedy in our language, and its triumphant success equally contributed to his fame and fortune. Soon aftei-ward he became reconciled to his father, who had been slow to forgive his imprudent marriage ; the elder Sheridan became, in consequence, the manager of the theatre, which was much benefited by his experience. Mr. Sheridan's first appearance before the public as a politician was in conjunction with Mr. Fox, as an ad- vocate of parliamentary reform. He was chau'man of the sub-committee which framed the famous resolutions on the State of Representation set forth by the Re- formers of "Westminster, in 1780. When Parliament was dissolved, at the close of that year, he became a RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 299 candidate for the borough of Stafford, and was elected to serve in the new Parliament, which met in the fol- lowing October. His first speech was delivered on the 20th of November, 1780, when a petition was presented against the return of himself and his colleague. The impression produced by his first essay in oratory does not appear to have been very favorable, and Mr. Moore supplies an anecdote on the subject, which deserves to be extracted. " It was on this night, as Woodfall used to relate, that Mr. Sheridan, after he had spoken, came up to him in the gallery, and asked, with much anxiety, what he thought of his first attempt. The answer of Wood- fall, as he had the courage afterward to own, was, ' I am sorry to say I do not think that this is in your line ; you had much better have stuck to your former pur- suits.' On hearing which, Sheridan rested his head upon his hand for a few minutes, and then vehe- mently exclaimed, ' It is in me, however, and it shall come out.' " In the great struggle, which ended in the breaking up of Lord North's ministry, and the consequent termi- nation of the American war, Sheridan did not take a prominent or distinguished share ; but, nevertheless, on the formation of the Rockingham administration, he was appointed one of the under-secretaries of state. After the death of Lord Rockingham, when Mr. Fox quitted office in consequence of Lord Shelburne becoming premier, Sheridan also resigned his situation, though his circumstances could ill afford such a sacrifice. He dis- approved of Mr. Fox's coahtion with Lord North, fore- seeing the injury that Fox's character would sustain from an alliance with one whom he had often denounced as a public enemy ; but in the administration that was forced upon the court by the parliamentary strength of the coahtion, he took the post of one of the secretaries to the Treasury, and was the chief organ of the gov- ernment in the discussion of financial questions. In the life of Mr. Fox we have given full details of the India Bill, on which his ministry made shipwreck. Sheridan was more fortunate than many of his associates, for at the general election, when so many of Mr. Fox's friends 300 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. were defeated, he was a second time returned for the borough of Stafford. The calm security into which Mr. Pitt's administra- tion had settled, after the gi-eat rout of their opponents at the general election, left but little to excite the activity of party spirit, or call for the exertion of eloquence. But in 1786, Burke's charges against Warren Hastings opened as wide a field for display as the most versatile icilent could requu-e. On this occasion Sheridan availed himself of the opportunity to exhibit greater powers of oratory, than have ever before or since been witnessed in a British House of Commons. On the 7th of Feb- ruary, 1786, he opened the charge against Hastings, founded on his treatment of the Begums, princesses of Oude, from whom money was said to have been forced, by the disgi-aceful expedient of torturing their favorite domestics. The effects of the speech were unexam- pled ; Mr. Buriie declared it to " be the most astonish- ing effect of eloquence, argument, and wit united, of which there w^as any record or tradition." Mr. Fox said, " all that he had ever heard, all that he had ever read, when compared with it, dwindled into nothing, and vanished like vapor before the sun ;" — and Mr. Pitt acknowledged that it surpassed all the eloquence of an- cient and modern times, and possessed everything that genius or ait could furnish to agitate or conti'ol the hu- man mind." Sir W. Dolben went farther ; he moved an adjournment of the debate, declaring that in the state of mind in which Mr. Sheridan's speech had left him, it was impossible for him to give a determinate opinion. This motion was supported by other members, and adopted ; Mr. Pitt declaring that it was impossible to exercise reason freely " while under the wand of the enchanter." The meager and inadequate report that has been presei-ved of this celebrated speech, contains few passages worthy of its fame, and even these have been sadly mangled by the reporter. We shall not, therefore, make any exti'act from it, especially as it was soon to be surpassed by the only person who could sur- pass it, Sheridan himself. As one of the managers se- lected by the Plouse of Commons, he had to go over the same ground when impeaching Warren Hastings before RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. ' 301 the House of Lords. For four days he astonished the house with an unbroken sti^eam of eloquence, equally- varied and magnificent. " No holy religionist," said Burke,. " no man of any description, of a literary char- acter, could have come up, in the one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality, or in the other, to the va- riety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of expression, to which they had that day listened. From poetry up to eloquence, there was not a species of composition of which a complete and perfect specimen might not have been culled, from one part or the other of the speech to which he alluded, and which he was persuaded had left too strong and deep an impression on the house, to be obliterated." We extract one passage — his delineation of the power of filial afifection, regretting that our hmits will not allow us to add more. "When I see in many of these letters the infirmities of age made a subject of mockery and ridicule ; when I see the feelings of a son treated by Mr. Middleton as puerile and contemptible ; when I see an order given from Mr. Hastings to harden that son's heart, to choke the struggling nature in his bosom; when I see them pointing to the son's name, and to his standard while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that gives dignity, that gives a holy sanction and a reverence to their enterprise ; when I see and hear these done — when I hear them brought into three deliberate defences set up against the Charges of the Commons — my lords, I own I grow puzzled and confounded, and almost begin to doubt whether, where such a defence can be offered, it may not be tolerated. " And yet, my lords, how can I support the claim of filial love by argument — much less the aflt'ection of a son to a mother — where love loses its awe, and veneration is mixed with tenderness ? What can I say upon such a subject? what can I do but repeat the ready truths which, with the quick impulse of the mind, must spring to the lips of every man on such a theme ? Filial Love ! the morality of instinct, the sacrament of nature and duty ! or rather let me say, it is miscalled a duty, for it flows from the heart without efltort, and is its delight, Cc 302 • MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. its indulgence, its enjoyment. It is guided not by the slow dictates of reason ; it awaits not encouragement from reflection or fi'om thought ; it asks no aid of mem- ory ; it is an innate but active consciousness of having been the object of a thousand tender solicitudes, a thou- sand waking, watchful cares, of meek anxiety and pa- tient sacrifices, unremarked and unrequited by the ob- ject. "It is a gratitude founded upon a conviction of obli- gations, not remembered, but the more binding because not remembered — because conferred before the tender reason could acknowledge, or the infant memory record them — a gratitude and affection which no circumstances should subdue, and which few can strengthen ; a gi*ati- tude in which even injury from the object, though it may blind regi-et, should never breed resentment ; an affection which can be increased only by the decay of those to whom we owe it, and which is then most fer- vent when the ti'emulous voice of age, resistless in its feebleness, inquires for the natural protector of its cold decline. " If these are the general sentiments of man, what must be their depravity — ^what must be their degene- racy, who can blot out and erase from the bosom of vir- tue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, and twined within the cords of life itself? — aliens from na- ture, apostates from humanity ? And yet, if there is a crime more full, more foul — if there is anything worse than a wilful persecutor of his mother — it is to see a de- liberate reasoning instigator and abettor to the deed. This it is that shocks, disgusts, and appalls the mind, more than the other; to view, not a wilful parricide, but a parricide by compulsion — a miserable wq-etch, not actuated by the stubborn evils of his own worthless heart — not driven by the fury of his own disti'acted brain — but lending his sacrilegious hand, without any malice of his own, to answer the abandoned purposes of the human fiends that have subdued his will ! To con- demn crimes like these, we need not talk of laws or of human rules ; iheir foulness, their deformity, does not depend upon local constitutions, upon human institu- tions, or upon religious creeds : they are crimes, and RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 303 the persons who perpetrate them are monsters, who violate the primitive condition upon which the earth was given to man — they are guilty by the general verdict of human kind." In the impeachment of Warren Hastings, Sheridan touched the highest point of all his greatness ; previous to that time he had been taken into the confidence of the Prince of Wales, and had appeared as the advocate, or rather agent of his Royal Highness, on more than one delicate occasion in the House of Commons. When the alarming illness of George III., in 1788, rendered it ne- cessary to provide for a regency, Sheridan vehemently supported the claims of the prince to an unrestricted power ; but he did not share in the hopes of his asso- ciates that the regency would be permanent ; and hence he did not feel much disappointment at the recovery of the king. The gay and thoughtless life which Sheridan led, his utter disregard of pecuniary matters, and his negligence in all affairs of business, involved him in embarrassments which every year became more onerous and gi'ievous. It was impossible that this should be kept secret, and the knowledge of his improvidence greatly diminished his authority with the public. When he took a part favorable to the French Revolution, and to the cause of Reform in England, he found himself separated from many friends to whom he had become attached, and ex- posed to coarse imputations on the rashness that results from broken fortunes. At this crisis he lost his be- loved and amiable wife ; and this sad event, followed by the death of his favorite daughter, seems to have fre- quently tempted him into the dangerous haunts of dissi- pation, in order to escape from painful reflections. His opposition to the policy of Mr. Pitt was continued du- ring the war to the peace of Amiens, but though some of his speeches were noble specimens of eloquence, the topics to which they refer have now but little interest. In 1795, Sheridan was man-ied a second time : the lady to whom he was united was Miss Ogle ; she was young, accomplished, and fondly attached to him, and her influence saved him for a time from tliose perilous indulgences to which he was too prone to yield. In 304 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. this same year, the rigorous policy adopted by the gov- ernment appears to have excited greater vehemence and violence in the opposition. Sheridan sometimes used imprudent expressions, which gave alarm to the friends of order, and which were deemed too strong even by his own friends. But he nobly retrieved this error by his pati'iotic conduct during the formidable mutiny at the Nore. On this occasion he came forward and urged the ministry to adopt the most prompt and vigorous measures, avowing himself ready to share any obloquy which might result from such an exertion of authority. From this time, though he continued in opposition, his hostility to the measures of the adminis- tration appears to have abated. He severely censured their policy with regard to Ireland ; he was adverse to the Union with Ireland ; but he attacked the mode in which the war was conducted rather than the war itself. His revived popularity was, however, mainly owing to his earnest anxiety for maintaining the naval supremacy of England. The British nation has ever been jealous of the honors of its flag on the ocean, and Sheridan was deeply imbued with this popular feeling. He may be said to have spoken the sentiments of all England when he declared, " If we are threatened to be deprived of that which is the charter of our existence, which has procured us the commerce of the world, and been the means of spreading our glory over every land — if the rights and honors of our flag are to be called in question, every risk should be i"un, and every danger braved. Then we should have a legitimate cause of war ; then the heart of every Briton would burn with indignation, and his hand stretched forth in the seiTice of his coun- tiy. If our flag is to be insulted, let us nail it to the topmast of the nation ; there let it fly while we shed the last drop of our blood in protecting it ; and let it be degraded only when the nation itself is overwhelmed." A little before this he had taken some part in bringing the German dramas of the Sti-anger and Pizarro on the English stage. The patriotic sentiments he had put into the mouth of Rolla, in the latter piece, had some effect in strengthening the determination of the English people to resist the menaced invasion of France ; and RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 305 this result, which was not, perhaps, intended, not a little contributed to give him a high place in public favor. But this change in Sheridan's policy tended to sever him from Mr. Fox, with whom he also differed on the propriety of supporting Mr. Addington's feeble admin- istration. Sheridan, however, showed that he was dis- interested in his support of this ministry ; for he re- fused a lucrative situation which the Earl of St. Vincent offered to his son. In the lives of Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt will be found an ample account of the ministerial changes of this period ; and we need here only say, that Sheridan had now become so dependent on the Prince of Wales as to have somewhat shaken the confidence hitherto reposed in his steadiness of principle. When Mr. Fox was about to present the Catholic petition from Ireland, which he did on the 10th of May, 1805, Sheri- dan, at the desire of the prince, ineffectually endeavored to dissuade him ; and this was, probably, one of the causes of that alienation between the two friends which they vainly labored to conceal from each other. When the death of Mr. Pitt led to the formation of the Fox and Grenville administration, Sheridan returned to his ^Id subordinate office of Treasurer of the Navy, though he probably expected to have been offered a seat in the cabinet. After Mr. Fox's death, Sheridan continued to sei-ve under Lords Grey and Grenville, until their ad- ministration was abruptly terminated by the king, who was displeased by the concessions they proposed to the Catholics. From this time his political career under- went a sad change ; his old associates suspected him of insincerity, and he was not in a position to acquire new friends. Public opinion had long identified the Prince of Wales with the Whig party, though he had seceded from it during the revolutionary war, and had shown anything but cordiality toward those who became its leaders after the death of Mr. Fox. Twice, however, negotiations were opened for forming a ministry by the aid of that party ; and on both occasions Sheridan was blamed as the chief cause of the failure of these attempts. These ministerial intrigues belong more to history than to biography, and we willingly pass them over in silence. On the 24th of February, 1801), Dinry-lane Thea- 20 c c 2 306 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tre, in which Sheridan had so deep an interest pledged, was burned to the ground. He was in the House of Commons, intending to speak in the debate of that night, when the sudden hlaze of hght alarmed the members. When the cause was discovered, such sympathy was felt for his calamity, that it was proposed the House should be adjourned. He then, exhibiting memorable dignity and calmness, said, " Whatever might be the extent of the private calamity, he hoped it would not interfere with the public business of the country :" then, quitting the house, he proceeded to Drury-lane, and witnessed, Avith a fortitude which strongly interested all who observed him, the entire desti'uction of his projv eity. By the active exertions of Mr. Whitbread, a commit- tee was formed for the rebuilding of Drury-lane The- ati-e, and liberal arrangeinents were made to secure the rights of Mr. Sheridan to his share of the profits of the patent. The payment, however, was not to be made until the building was completed ; but the mere likeli- hood of a sum of money being placed at his disposal, stimulated all his creditors to assert their claims, which he was utterly unable to meet. Then began the last hard struggle of pride and delicacy against the most deadly foe of both — pecuniary involvement — "which thus gathers round its victims, fold after fold, till they are at length crushed in its inextricable grasp." On the dissolution of Parliament in 1812, he lost his seat for the borough of Stafford, and was no longer protected from arrest by his privilege. His distresses now increased every day, and it is a painful task to follow him through the short remainder of his melancholy life. The sum arising from the sale of his theatrical property was soon exhausted by the various claims upon it, and he was driven to part with his books and furniture, to satisfy further demands and provide for the subsistence of the day. In the spring of 1815 he was arrested and carried to a spunging-house, where he was detained two or three days ; from the effects of this shock, so galling to his feelings, he never recovered ; he was attacked by a disease of the stomach, partly producod by irregular living, and partly by the RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 307 harassing anxieties that perpetually beset him. While death was gaining fast upon him, the miseries of his life were thickening around him also ; nor did the last corner in which he now lay down to die, afford him any asylum from the clamors of his legal pursuers. Writs and exe- cutions came in rapid succession, and bailiffs at length gained possession of his house. A sheriff's oflficer finally arrested the dying man in his bed, and was about to carry him off, in his blankets, to a spunging-house, when Dr. Bain interfered, and by threatening the officer with the responsibility he must incur, if, as was but too probable, his prisoner should expire on the way, averted this outrage. Soon after, an article appeared in the "Morning Post," calling the attention of the public to the disti-essed con- dition of Sheridan ; it produced a strong sensation, and many of his old associates, including the noblest of the land, called to make inquiries and express sympathy. But it was now too late : his case had already become hopeless, and, after lingering on a few days, he died July 7th, 1816, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. Seldom has there been such an array of rank as hia funeral : princes of the blood royal, nobles of every rank in the peerage, and high officers of state, followed his remains to his tomb in Westminster Abbey. This con- trast of respect to the dead and neglect of the dying was severely rebuked by Mr. Moore, in the monody which he published on the occasion : — " Oh ! it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, And friendship so false in the great and high-born ; To think that a long list of titles may follow The relics of him who died friendless and lorn. How proud they can press to the funeral array Of him whom they shunn'd in his sickness and sorrow ; How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, Whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow." We cannot close this part of our task without endeav- oring earnestly to impress on the minds of young readers the impressive example which this history affords of the ruin resulting from thoughtlessness and dissipation. Had his mind been subjected to the discinline of a profes- 308 MODERN BRiTJSH PLUTARCH. sion, the regularity which it imposes might have infused some spirit of order into his life. But a Avant of order made him insensible to the amount of extravagance in which he indulged, until his pecuniaiy embarrassments became tpo great for him to endure, or his friends to relieve. Yet there is reason to believe that had he, at any time, fairly looked his difficulties in the face, his extrication would not have been impossible ; but he had given way to habits of indolence and indulgence which rendered any application to business almost an impossi- bility. JOHN SMEATON. Most of our readers are aware that the chief clangers to which sailors are exposed are found on coasts, and not in the open sea : rocks, shoals, and quicksands, are far more perilous than the ocean ; while a vessel can run before the wind, the storm rarely does more evil than drive her from her course ; but when she runs ashore, and is held fast to bear the brunt of its fury, her destruc- tion is all but inevitable. Hence in early ages it was customary to light beacon-fires along the most frequent- ed coasts, and these were usually kindled on the tops of lofty towers, which served the double purpose of sea- marks and of temples of the gods. In the middle ages it was customary to endow a monastery with lands, on condition of maintaining a beacon on some dangerous spot. The remains of several of these towers may be found on various parts of the English and Irish coast ; the most perfect is near Youghal, in the county of Cork ; it was maintained at the expense of a nunnery in the neighborhood. Since the Reformation, the system of light-houses in England has been left, in a great degi'ee, to private enterprise and speculation, though the chief management of them was enti'usted to the corporation of the Trinity House. A recent act of Parliament pro- vides for the final vesting of the light-houses of the Brit- ish Islands in this corporate body, and thus putting an end to the anomalies which arose from patents and leases granted to individuals. The Eddystone rocks, about fourteen miles in a south- ern direction from the harbor of Plymouth, are situated 310 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. in the immediate ti-ack of ships coasting up and down the British Channel ; hence they were extremely dan- gerous, and even fatal, to ships previous to the erection of a light-house. But difficulties, long deemed insuper- able, prevented the erection of the necessary edifice ; the only rock admitting of such a structure was so shaped as to render the foundation insecure, and to expose the work to overflowings of the sea, and the heavy storms so common in the Channel prevent communication with the land during a great part of the year. In 1696, Mr. Henry Winstanley, of Littlebury, in Essex, proffered his services to erect a beacon on the Eddystone ; the offer was accepted ; and, after the toil of four years, a structure was completed, which seemed to possess sufficient stability. Winstanley himself was so confident of its safety, that he expressed a wish to be in it "during the greatest storm that ever blew out of the heavens." His wish was fatally gratified. On the night of the 26th of November, 1703, the south of England was visited by the most terrific storm recorded in our annals. When the following morning dawned, it was found that Winstanley, his attendants, and his boasted structure had entirely disappeared. A second light-house was erected by Mr. Rudyard, who had been originally a silk-mercer, and was com- pleted in 1709. Unfortunately, it was for the most part built of wood, which, from constant exposure to the heat of fires and lamps, became as ignitable as tinder. On the 2d of September, 1755, it took fire, and was burned to the gi'ound. Application was made to the Royal Society to recom- mend a person proper to be entrusted with the recon- struction of an edifice of such national importance, and the Earl of Macclesfield, the president of that body, rec- ommended Mr. John Smeaton, who, though not a pro- fessional architect, had highly distinguished himself in various branches of mechanics. Mr. John Smeaton, the son of a country attorney, was born at a little village in Yorkshire, May 28th, 1724. Even in infancy he showed a strong taste for mechan- ical pursuits, having constructed the model of a wind- mill and a pump before he had attained his sixth year. JOHN SMEATON, 311 As he grew up he constructed a lathe and a complete set of tools, with which he worked in wood, ivory, and metals, producing not merely toys, but various pieces of mechanism, which in his day were wonders of ingenu- ity. His father, however, was anxious to educate him for the law, and sent him to London, where he attended court during a few terms ; but finding the legal profes- sion distasteful, he remonstrated with his father, and received permission to follow "the natural bent of his genius." In 1758 he commenced business as a manufacturer of philosophical instruments ; he invented several inge- nious machines, particularly one for measuring a ship's way at sea, and a compass of as peculiar construction ; he even made two voyages to test the efficacy of those in- struments. His reputation procured his admission to the Royal Society in 1758, and in 1759 he obtained a gold medal from that body, for his experiments on wheels turned by wind or water, the gi'eat motive powers before the properties of steam were known. His greatest work was the Eddystone light-house, which he commenced in August, 1756. The principle on which he went was, that the building should be weighty and solid. The blocks of stone employed in the foundation were, therefore, enormous masses of from one to two tons each, dove-tailed into the rock and into each other ; the courses over these were similarly dove-tailed and further secured by wedges and cement, so that up to the fourteenth course the whole formed a compact mass as solid as the rock itself. On this foun- dation the circular tower was commenced. Each course of the wall was made of a single block in thickness, six- teen of which completed the circuit of the edifice. All the resources of dynamics were exhausted in securing the connection of these blocks and preventing the dan- gers arising from lateral pressure, and these succeeded so perfectly that the hollow part of the edifice became as firm and as secure as the solid. The iron work for the balcony rails, lantern, cupola, &c., was wrought and put up under Smeaton's personal superintendence, and on the 16th of October, 1759, a light was once more exhib- ited on the Eddystone rock, and has not since been in- 312 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. lerrupted. For many years after its erection, the Eddy- stone was eagerly watched after every storm, but no one now entertains the slightest doubt of its stability. In 1764 he was appointed one of the receivers to the forfeited estates of the unfortunate Earl of Derwent- water, the revenues of which had been granted to Green- wich Hospital. A great part of this property consists of lead mines. Smeaton introduced many gi'eat im- provements into the mode of working the mines and smelting the ore, so that when the increase of his busi- ness as an engineer induced him to resign his appoint- ment, the Commissioners of the Hospital eagerly urged him to continue his services. The importance of the many pubhc works in which he was engaged, compelled him to quit this office ; the chief of these are thus enu- merated by one of his biographers : — " He completed the erection of new light-houses at Spurn Head at the mouth of the Humber : he built the fine bridge over the Tay at Perth : he laid out the line of the gi-eat canal connecting the Forth and Clyde ; and made the river Calder navigable ; a work that re- quired great skill and judgment on account of its impetu- ous floods. On the opening of the gi-eat arch at London Bridge by throwing tw^o arches into one, and the re- moval of a large pier, the excavation around and under the starlings was so considerable, that the bridge was thought to be in gi-eat danger of falling. Smeaton was then in Yorkshire, but was sent for by express, and ar- rived with the utmost dispatch : on his arrival the fear that the bridge was about to fall prevailed so generally, that few persons would pass over or under it. Smeaton applied iiimself immediately to examine it, and to sound about the starlings as minutely as possible : his advice to the committee was to purchase the stones which had been taken from the middle pier, then lying in Moorfields, and to throw them into the river to guard the starlings. This advice was adopted with the utmost alacrity, by which simple means, the bridge was proba- bly saved from falling, and time afforded for securing it in a more effectual manner. » This method of stopping the impetuous ravages of water,' says Mr. Holmes, 'he had practiced with success on the river Calder ; and on JOHN SMEATON. 313 my calling on him in the neighborhood of Wakefield, he showed me the effects of a great flood, which had made a considerable passage over the land ; this he stopped at the bank of the river, by throwing in a quan- tity of large rough stones, which with the sand and other materials washed down by the river, filling up their in- terstices, had become a barrier to keep the river in its usual course.' " In 1771, Mr. Smeaton, in partnership with Mr. Holmes, purchased the works by which Greenwich and Deptford are supphed with water. The former proprietors had lost money by the concern, but under Smeaton's man- agement it became so lucrative as to insure him not only a competency, but fortune. His fame was so thoroughly established, that no great works were under- taken until he was consulted ; his advice was frequently sought by Parliament, and his authority on disputed points of mechanism was received with deference in courts of law. One of his last public services was the completion of the pier and harbor of Ramsgate, which affords a very needful place of shelter in the Downs. Early in life Smeaton atti'acted the notice of the ec- centric Duke and Duchess of Queen sbury, on account of his personal likeness to their favorite poet Gay. They sought his acquaintance, and continued their friendship to him during their lives. This was the more remarkable, as they were fond of high play, while Smeaton detested gambhng in every shape and form. On one occasion the stakes were already high, and it fell to Smeaton to double them, when, neglecting to deal the cards, he was busily occupied in making some calculations on paper, which he placed upon the table. The duchess asked eagerly what it was, and Smeaton replied coolly, " You will recollect, the field in which my house stands may be about five acres, three roods, and seven perches, which, at thirty years' purchase, will be just my stake ; and if your gi-ace will make a duke of me, I presume the winner will not disfike my mortgage." The joke and the lesson had their effect, for they never played again but for the merest trifle. Smeaton had long intended to prepare a memoir of his hfe and public services, but the works in which he Dn 314 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. was engaged prevented him from finding time to use tlie pen. The only part of his project which he was able to execute was his account of the erection of the Eddystone light-house, which is still consulted as a val- uable authority by architects and engineers. Early in September, 1792, he was attacked by paralysis, the re- sult of over exertion, and under this disease he sunk on the 28th of the following month, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. Since the days of Smeaton, the progress of mechani- cal invention has been so rapid, that many of his great- est improvements have now become antiquated. It is not generally known that he contributed largely to the improvement of the steam-engine, though his fame has been eclipsed by the brilliant discoveries of Watt. Since his time little addition has been made to the efficiency of the water-wheel, though water-power is as extensively used as steam in the manufacturing districts. Cultivated habits of observation and persevering industry were the great elements of Smeaton's success : they were formed in his boyhood, and were not abandoned in his old age. JAMES WATT. A LIFE of Study and of labor presents few striking incidents or adventures ; the details of what has passed in the library or the laboratory have little variety, and almost as little interest, except when their scientific re- sults are explained for men of science. But the arts of peace have their heroes and conquerors, as well as the arts of war, — heroes, whose achievements are effected without bloodshed, — conquerors, whose ti'iumphs have left no miseiy behind. The steam-engine has become one of the most important elements in modern civiliza- tion ; it performs the rudest labor, and perfects the finest work ; it twists the cable that will hold a man-of-war, and spins a thread as fine as the web of gossamer ; it forges the largest anchor, and polishes the finest needle ; it impels large vessels over the ocean, in spite of wind or tide, and draws heavy trains of carriages over land, with a fleetness exceeding that of the race-horse. Its regularity is as remarkable as its powers ; it regulates with perfect accuracy and uniformity the number of its strokes in a given time, counting or recording them, moreover, to tell how much work it has done, as a clock records the beats of its pendulum ; it regulates the quan- tity of steam admitted to work, the briskness of the fire, the supply of water to the boiler, and the supply of coals to the fire ; it opens and shuts its valves with perfect precision as to time and manner ; it oils its joints ; it takes out any air which may accidentally enter into parts where there should be a vacuum ; and when any- thing goes wrong, which it cannot of itself rectify, it 316 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. rings a bell, to warn its attendants. Finally, though ex- ercising the strength of six hundred horses, it may be governed by a child. The perfection to which this wondrous mechanism and stupendous motive power has attained, must mainly be attributed to the intelligence and perseverance of James Watt, whose discoveries may be said to have cre- ated rather than multiplied an incalculable amount of the industrial resources of Great Britain. He supplied movement for the machineiy which Arkwiight invented, and to the combined efforts of both, are owing the un- paralleled extent and unrivaled excellence of British textile fabrics. James Watt was the son of a respectable merchant at Greenock, where he was born June 19th, 1736 ; his grandfather and uncle were respectable teachers of math- ematics and land-surveyors, professions then united in Scotland, as they still are in Ireland. He received a good, plain education, including a competent knowledge of mathematics, and he early evinced a taste for the practical part of mechanics, which he retained to the end of his life. Long after he had risen to wealth and station he loved to work at the manual exercise of his early trade, though he had hundreds of hands ready to do his bidding. Soon after he had attained his eigh- teenth year he came to London, to obtain instruction in the manufacture of mathematical insti'uments ; but he had not resided in the metropolis more than a year when the state of his health compelled him to return to Scot- land. But, limited as was the amount of instruction which he received, he had profited by it so largely, that in 1757 he was appointed mathematical instrument ma- ker to the University of Glasgow, and had a residence assigned him in the buildings belonging to that learned body. Glasgow was at this period the residence of some of the most distinguished men of science in the empire. Among the professors in its University were Robert Simpson, the editor of Euclid's Elements, and one of the most eminent mathematicians of his age ; Adam Smith, the founder of the science of political economy ; and Dr. Black, whose discoveries with respect to latent JAMES WATT. 317 heat, its connection with fluidity, and the phenomena that occurred during the processes of boiUng, freezing, &c., made a complete revolution in chemical science. Similarity of tastes united Watt in close intimacy with Black, and he also enjoyed the friendship of Mr. John Robinson, then a student, but subsequently known as an eminent mathematician and natural philosopher. From his constant communication with such men, Watt could not fail to derive the most valuable mental discipline, while his own taste for practical mechanics induced him to subject all their theories to the test of direct exper- iment. In 1763, Watt removed from the University into the city of Glasgow, where he opened a shop as a mathe- matical instrument maker, and soon after married his cousin, Miss Miller. An accidental circumstance di- rected his attention to that series of brilliant inventions which have made his name celebrated throughout the civilized world. He was employed to repair the work- ing model of a steam-engine, constructed on Newco- men's principle, for the lectures of the professor in natural philosophy. It is necessary to explain the con- struction of Newcomen's engine, in order to render Watt's improvements intelhgible. The moving jjower was the atmospheric pressure on a piston w^orking in a cylinder ; the piston was raised by a jet of steam thrown into the lower part of the cylinder, and the steam was then condensed by a jet of cold water, which, producing a vacuum, the piston was forced down by the weight of the recumbent air. The disadvantages of this contriv- ance were, that there was a great waste of steam when the cylinder was cooled down so as to produce a tolera- bly perfect vacuum ; and that if it was cooled less thor- oughly, the resistance of the uncondensed steam greatly weakened the force of the descending stroke : hence, any change seemed to offer but a choice of difficulties — a waste of steam in raising the piston, or a loss of power in its descent. Watt soon found that no alteration in the size, shape, or material of the cylinder could extricate him from this dilemma ; but he saw that one evil, the cooling of the cylinder, could be averted if the process of condensation D D 2 318 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. could be conducted in a separate vessel. He soon veri- fied this possibility by direct experiment. A communi- cation was opened by means of cocks between the cylin- der and a distinct vessel, exhausted of its air, so soon as the latter was filled with steam, and had consequently raised the piston. The vapor, of course, nished in to fill up the vacuum, and was condensed in the separate vessel either by external cold, or a jet of water, while the density of what remained in the cylinder was so attenuated as to allow the piston to be again forced down by the pressure of the atmosphere. Another advantage resulting from this arrangement was, that the process of condensation being conducted apart, was brought com- pletely under the conti'ol of the engineer, who could assign its limits with tolerable accuracy and precision. This was Watt's gi'eat and fundamental improvement ; it for the first time brought the working of steam under complete control. Although Watt's inventions were spread over a long life, it will be convenient to view them in their connec- tion with each other, and we shall endeavor to make them as intelligible as possible to those who are not very familiar with mechanical science. Newcomen's engine was moved partly by steam and partly by air, the for- mer raising the piston and the latter in turn forcing it to descend. Watt had brought the steam under complete command, but atmospheric pressure was beyond his control ; it was an invariable power supplied by nature, which he could neither increase nor diminish. But there was a still greater defect in the atmospheric engine, and one which no contrivance could remedy ; cold air being admitted into the cylinder at every de- scending stroke of the piston, a large quantity of heat was abstracted from the piston, and a proportionate quan- tity of steam wasted in merely heating it again. Watt resolved to get rid of atmospheric pressure altogether, and to make steam the sole moving power, and not the mere agent in producing a vacuum. This was effected by admitting steam into the cylinder alternately above and below the piston, thus doubling the power in the same space and with the same sti'ength of material. But in the application of this principle he had to encounter JAMES WATT. 319 many difficulties, which could only be overcome by a practical mechanician ; any defects in the boring of the cylinder, or the accurate fitting of the piston, were reme- died in Newcomen's engine by pouring in a little water at the top, which rendered the piston air-tight, and leakage was of little consequence when the process of condensa- tion was performed in the cylinder. But in Watt's contriv- ance it was necessary to exclude every particle of water from the cylinder, and not only to render the piston air- tight, but to make it work through an air-tight collar, so that no particle of the steam admitted above it should be permitted to escape. When this was effected, he added a powerful pump to increase the vacuum of the condenser, and finally introduced a contrivance to cut off the com- munication between the cylinder and the boiler when about half the stroke was completed, leaving it to the expansive power of steam to perform the rest. By this contrivance a great economy of steam, and consequently of fuel, was obtained ; and, what was not less important, he gained the power of varying the effort of the engine according to the work which it has to do, by admitting the steam through a greater or smaller portion of the stroke. These are the chief improvements which Watt intro- duced at different periods of his life. There are, how- ever, many others which it would be difficult to explain to readers who are not intimately and minutely acquaint- ed with the sti'ucture of the steam-engine ; we may mention, as examples, his contrivance for converting re- ciprocal into rotary motion, and his beautiful system of parallel motion to supersede the old beam and chain. It was not until 1769 that Watt took out a patent for his inventions ; his occupations as a civil engineer, which were numerous and varied, interfered with his experi- ments ; his friends were limited, and he had great diffi- culty in finding a person possessed of capital who could appreciate the merit of his improvements. At last Dr. Roebuck, the proprietor of the Carron iron works in Scotland, became his partner in the patent, agreeing to find all the capital, on condition of receiving two-thirds of the profits. Roebuck, however, was unable to fulfil his contract, and in 1774 he resigned his interest to 320 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. Mr. Matthew Boulton, the proprietor of the Soho iron works, near Birmingham. Boulton was as enterprising and almost as inventive as Watt himself; he had dis- covered a new method of inlaying steel, and this created such a demand for his wares, that he had been compelled to have recourse to steam-power instead of the water- power which he had previously employed. Having formed so advantageous a partnership, Watt determined to remove to England, a step to which he was probably rendered more favorable by the death of his wife in 1773. His inventions were soon appreciated, and such was the sense entertained of their national importance, that Parliament passed an Act prolonging his patent rights for twenty-five years, in consideration of the difficulty and expense of bringing such compli- cated machinery into public notice. One of the earliest and one of the most important ap- plications of the new steam-engines was to the pumping of water upon a large scale, and thus removing the im- pediment to the profitable working of some of our most valuable mines. It was found, by comparative tnals, that the saving of fuel amounted to three-fourths of the whole quantity consumed by the engines formerly in use, beside the advantage of greater certainty and regularity in work. When these facts became known, the new machines were introduced into the deep mines of Corn- wall, where their merits could be best tested, and their efficacy was soon found to surpass the most ardent ex- pectations. The patentees received as payment one- third of the savings on the fuel, and, in a few years, this item was found to yield an enormous income. Like Arkwright, Messrs. Boulton and Watt had to maintain many harassing contests against infringements of their patent rights, but these attacks did not prevent Watt from realizing a handsome fortune, with which he es- tablished himself at Heathfield, in the county of Staf- ford. The invention of Watt was fully appreciated by the scientific world. In 1785 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society ; in 1806, the degi-ee of Doctor of Laws was conferred upon him by the University of Glasgow ; and in 1808, he was chosen a Member of the French JAMES WATT. 321 Institute. His attention was not confined to the steam- engine ; he invented a copying machine, for which he took out a patent in 1780. In the winter of 1784 he erected an apparatus, the first of its kind, for warming apartments by steam. He also introduced into England the method of bleaching with oxy-muriatic acid or chlo- rine, invented and communicated to him for publication by his friend Berthollet. Toward the conclusion of his life he constructed a machine for making fac -similes of busts and other carved work ; and also busied himself in forming a composition for casts, possessing much of the transparency and hard- ness of marble. Though his health had been delicate through life, he reached the advanced age of eighty- four; he died at Heathfield August 25th, 1819. A colossal statue, the work of Chantrey, has been erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey. It represents Watt seated in deep thought, a pair of compasses in his hand, and a scroll on which there is the draught of a steam-engine, open on his knee. The best account of Watt's private character and do- mestic life was published by one of his intimate friends in the supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and an extract from it will appropriately terminate this brief summary of his public services : — " To those to whom he more immediately belonged, who lived in his society, and enjoyed his conversation, this is not perhaps the character in which he will be most frequently recalled — most deeply lamented, or even most highly admired. Independently of his great attain- ments in mechanics, Mr. Watt was an extraordinary, and in many respects a wonderful man. Perhaps no individual in his age possessed so much, and such varied and exact information ; had read so much, or remember- ed what he had read so accurately and well. He had infinite quickness of apprehension, a prodigious memory, and a certain rectifying and methodizing power of un- derstanding, which extracted something precious out of all that w^as presented to it. His stores of miscellane- ous knowledge were immense, and yet less astonishing than the command he had at all times over them. It seemed as if every subject that was casually started in 2\ 322 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. conversation with him, had been that which he had been last occupied in studying and exhausting ; such was the copiousness, the precision, and the admirable clearness of the information, which he poured out upon it without effort or hesitation. '' Nor was this promptitude and compass of knowledge confined in any degree to the studies connected with hi? ordinary pursuits. That he should have been minutely and extensively skilled in chemistry and the arts, and in most of the branches of physical science, might perhaps have been conjectured ; but it could not have been in- ferred from his usual occupations, and probably is not generally known, that he was curiously learned in many branches of antiquitj% metaphysics, medicine, and ety- mology ; and perfectly at home in all the details of ar- chitecture, music, and law. He was well acquainted too with most of the ^nodern languages, and familiar too with their most recent literature. Nor was it at all ex- ti'aordinary to hear the gi'eat mechanician and engineer, detailing and expounding, for hours together, the meta- physical theories of the German logicians, or criticising the measures or the matter of the German poetry. * * * " It is needless to say, that with those vast resources, his conversation was at all times rich and instructive in no ordinary degi-ee. But it was, if possible, still more pleasing than wise, and had all the charms of familiarity, with all the substantial treasures of knowledge. No man could be more social in his spirit, less assuming or fastid- ious in his manners, or more kind and indulgent toward all who approached him. * * * * His talk too, though overflowing with information, had no resemblance to lecturing, or solemn discoursing; but, on the contraiy, was full of colloquial spirit and pleasantry. He had a certain quiet and gi-ave humor, which ran through most of his conversation, and a vein of temperate jocularity, which gave infinite zest and effect to the condensed and inexhaustible information which formed its main staple and characteristic. There was a little air of affected testiness, and a tone of pretended rebuke and contradic- tion, which he used toward his younger friends, that was always felt by them as an endearing mark of his kindness and familiarity, and prized accordingly far above ^ JAMES WATT. 323 all the solemn compliineats that ever proceeded from the lips of authority. His voice was deep and power- ful ; though he commonly spoke in a low and somewhat monotonous tone, which harmonized admirably with the weight and brevity of his observations, and set off to the greatest advantage the pleasant anecdotes which he de livered with the same grave tone, and the same calm smile playing soberly on his lips. "There was nothing of effort, indeed, or of impa- tience, any more than of pride or levity, in his demea- nor ; and there was a finer expression of reposing strength and mild self-possession in his manner, than we ever recollect to have met with in any other person. He had in his character the utmost abhorrence of all sorts of forwardness, parade, and pretension ; and, in- deed, never failed to put all such impostors out of coun- tenance, by the manly plainness and honest intrepidity of his language and deportment. " He was twice married, but has left no issue but one son, long associated with him in his business and studies, and two grandchildren by a daughter, who predeceased him. He was fellow of the Royal Societies, both of London and Edinburgh, and one of the few Englishmen who were elected members of the National Institute of France. "All men of learning and of sciejice were his cordial friends ; and such was the influence of his mild charac- ter, and perfect fairness, and liberality, even upon the pretender to these accomplishments, that he lived to dis- arm even envy itself, and died, we verily believe, with- out a single enemy." MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. Among the early English settlers in Ireland was a family named Cowley, or Colley, which rose to consid- erable rank and affluence, one of its members having been solicitor-general so early as 1537. His descend- ants continued to hold great influence in the Irish Parlia- ment, but the first who attained eminent distinction was Richard Colley, who was raised to the peerage of Ire- land by the title of Lord Mornington in 1746. He had previously inherited the large estates of his cousin, Gar- rett Wellesley or Wesley of Dangan, who died in 1728, without issue. Lord Mornington assumed the surname and title of Wellesley, preserving, however, his heredi- tary designation. His son was advanced to the dignity of Viscount Wellesley and Earl Mornington ; he was a leading member in the Irish House of Peers, and a great favorite in the fashionable circles of Dublin. His eldest son, Richard, the subject of this memoir, was born in Dublin, June 20th, 1760, and received the first rudiments of education from his mother, a lady of emi- nent abilities and varied accomplishments. At an early age he was sent from Ireland to be educated at Eton, where he soon outsti'ipped all his cotemporaries in clas- sical attainments. The reputation he had acquired at E ton was fully sustained at Oxford ; the Greek histori- ans and orators were his favorite study, and during the whole of his long, varied, and laborious life, he never abandoned these favorite pursuits. Having concluded his studies at the university, Vis- count Wellesley returned to Ireland, where he had the MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 325 misfortune to lose his father before he had attained his twenty-first year. Lord Morningtou left his affairs deeply embarrassed, and nothing but the prudent man- agement of the countess could have saved the family from great pecuniary distress. The first act of the young earl, an coming of age, was to take upon himself the whole of the pecuniary obligations of his father ; this noble conduct involved him in difficulties from which he never entirely freed himself: the debts were paid, but the estates were lost to the family. Though Earl Mornington took his seat in the Irish House of Peers, he regarded it as a theatre too circum- scribed for his abilities, and in 1784 he entered the English House of Commons as member for Beeralston. The most remarkable proceeding in which he took any share as an Irish peer was the debate on the Regency question in 1789. On this question the English and Irish parliaments differed so widely as to menace a sep- aration of the two countries. The former, as has been mentioned in the lives of Pitt and Fox, conferred the regency on the Prince of Wales, subject to certain re- strictions ; the Irish legislature resolved that his royal highness should possess the entire powers of the sov- ereign. Lord Slornington strenuously resisted this proposition ; he pointed out the dangers of conferring the entire powers of the crown on a regent, during what he hoped would prove the temporary indisposition of the sovereign, and, though he was outvoted, his arguments produced a powerful effect on the assembly. The for- tunate recovery of George III. averted the evils that might have arisen from the antagonistic decisions of the two legislatures ; the king was grateful to the young statesman who had opposed a measure fraught with danger to the connection between England and Ireland, and, when he visited London, showed him much per- sonal attention. Through the royal favor he was re- turned for the borough of Windsor, and created a privy counselor ; he had been previously elected a knight of Saint Patrick, which, however, he resigned in 1810, on receiving the Order of the Garter. In the English House of Commons, Earl Mornington was distinguished as a zealous supporter of Mr. Pitt, 326 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. and an able advocate for the maintenance of the war against revolutionary France. His speech on this sub- ject in 1794 was the most elaborate which he ever de- livered, and its peroration, though a little too rhetorical, is no unfavorable specimen of his eloquence : — " All the circumstances of your situation are now be- fore you. You are now to make your option — you are now to decide whether it best becomes the wisdom, the dignity, and the spirit of a great nation to rely for her existence on the will of a restless and implacable enemy, or on her own sword ; you are now to decide whether you will eati'ust to the valor and skill of British fleets and British armies, to the approved strength of your united and powerful allies, the defence of the limited monarchy of these realms, of the constitution of Parlia- ment, of all the established ranks and orders of society among us, of the sacred rights of property, and of the whole frame of our laws, our liberties, and our religion ; or whether you will deliver over the guardianship of all these blessings to the justice of Cambon, the plunderer of the Netherlands, who, to sustain the baseless fabric of his depreciated assignats, defrauds whole nations of their rights of property, and mortgages the aggregate wealth of Europe ; to the moderation of Danton, who first promulgated that unknown law of nature which or- dains that the Alps, the Pyrenees, the Ocean, and the Rhine should be the only boundaries of the French do- minions ; to the religion of Robespierre, Avhose practice of piety is the murder of his own sovereign, who exhorts all mankind to embrace the same faith, and to assassi- nate all kings for the honor of God ; to the friendship of Barrere, who avows, in the face of all Europe, that the fundamental article of the revolutionary government of France is the ruin and annihilation of the British em- pire ; or, finally, to whatever may be the accidental caprice of a new band of malefactors, who, in the last convulsions of their exhausted country, may be destined to drag the present tyrants to their own scaffolds, to seize their lav/less power, to emulate the depravity of their example, and to rival the enormity of their crimes." So rapid was the progress which Lord Mornington MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 327 made in the favor of the king and the confidence of the minister, that he was chosen, in 1797, to succeed Lord Cornwallis as Governor-General of India ; he was at the same time raised to the Britisli peerage under the title of Baron Wellesley, in right of which he sat in the House of Lords. The marquisate which he subse- quently attained was in the Irish peerage ; but as a British peer he never ranked higher than baron. Lord Wellesley, accompanied by his illustrious brother, Col- onel Wellesley, now Duke of Wellington, reached India at a very critical period. Bonaparte had achieved the conquest of Egypt, and was supposed to meditate an attack on the British empire in India. Tippoo Saib, smarting under the defeats he had received from Lord Cornwallis, and galled by the sacrifices of territory which he had been compelled to make in order to purchase peace, was engaged in secret intrigues with French emissaries, and was also stimulating the Mussulman powers to unite in a grand confederacy for the expulsion of the English from India. Under these circumstances Lord Wellesley acted with equal projnptitude and firm- ness ; an expedition was sent to secure and fortify the island of Perim, which commands the straits of Btib-el- Mandeb, and thus guards the entrance of the Red Sea; negotiations were commenced with Tippoo, and when it became evident that the sultan only sought to gain time for warlike preparations, an army was got ready with extraordinary speed to march upon his capital. General Harris, who commanded the expedition, took Seringa- patam by storm, after a month's siege ; Tippoo Saib was slain in the tumult, and the war was at an end. The governor-general resolved to restore the ancient line of Hindoo princes, the representative of whom was then a child of five years old ; he appointed suitable guardians to the young rajah, and, to prevent any future French intrigues at Mysore, he took possession of Seringapatam and the districts along the coast, including the port of Man galore. The overthrow of Tippoo Saib produced a very power- ful sensation in Europe and Asia ; the designs of the French on India were completely frustrated, and the native powers of the East began to regard British prow- 328 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. ess as irresistible. To confirm this impression, the Mar- quis of Welle sley made a tour through the northern provinces of Hindostan in all the splendor of Oriental magnificence, and exhibiting the power of a conqueror united to the wisdom of a statesman. He redressed gi'ievances, created friends and allies, repressed open or concealed enemies, and fixed the British empire in India on a basis that has not since been shaken. Emi- nent, however, as his services were, the Company did not always view with favor his measures of enlightened policy ; he w^as anxious to increase the commercial in- tercourse between Europe and India, to develop the natural and industrial resources of the latter country, and to create among the Hindoos a spirit of commerce, as the best aid in extending civilization. But, as the measures lie proposed seemed to infringe the monopoly of commerce which the Company and its servants en- joyed, he was strongly resisted by the Court of Direct- ors, and his measures were in consequence but partially successful. Still he had raised the public revenue from seven to fifteen millions annually, with advantage to commerce, and without injustice to the inhabitants of India. In 1801, Lord Wellesley sent an expedition up the Red Sea to cooperate in the expulsion of the French from India ; it arrived too late to take a part in the operations, but the mere fact of its presence helped to impress Europe with a deep sense of the resources of the British empire. The jMahratta war followed, in which the brother of the governor-general, who has since become so illustrious, won his first laurels at the battle of Assaye. By the wisdom and prudence of Lord Wellesley, not less than by the skill and bravery of the armies employed, the war was brought to a successful issue. The important territory between the Jumna and the Ganges was annexed to the British dominions, and the power of the Mahrattas, which menaced the ruin of central India, was humbled to the dust. In 1805, the Marquis of Wellesley was recalled home at, his own request ; but, though his eminent services were recognized by the ministers of the crown and the MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 329 East India Company, there were many who murmured at his profuse expenditure, and at the harshness with which he was said to have treated some of the native princes, particularly the Nabob of Oude. Articles of impeachment were presented against him in the House of Commons, by a person named Paull, but they were subsequently withdrawn, and a vote obtained in his favor. Though the marquis, on his return to Europe, gener- ally supported the war against Napoleon, he was far from approving the entire policy of the Perceval, or even the Liverpool administi-ation : on the contrary, he exhibited a leaning toward the course recommended by Lords Grey and Grenville, though he did not formally join them in opposition. Early in 1809 he was ap- pointed ambassador extraordinary to the court of Spam; but he found the councils of that country in such a state of distraction, as to convince him that the Peninsula could only be saved from the power of Napoleon by British exertions. His views were very unwelcome to Spanish pride, and were not thoroughly approved by the British cabinet. He therefore returned home, and, after some tedious negotiations, was induced to accept the office of Secretary for Foreign Affairs, under Mr. Perceval. He held this post from December, 1809, to January, 1812, when he resigned, because he diftered from his colleagues on the question of Catholic Emanci- pation, and on the proper course to be pursued in the conduct of the war. When Mr. Perceval w-is assassi- nated in the following May, the prince regent com- missioned Lord Wellesley to form a new administi-ation. We have already mentioned, in the Life of Mr. Can- ning, the difficulties, arising from the position of parties, which frustrated the regent's first designs, and led to the formation of the Liverpool ministry. Shortly after this event, Mr. Canning carried a motion in favor of Catholic Emancipation in the House of Commons ; and a similar motion by the Marquis of Wellesley, in the House of Lords, was lost only by a majority of one, and that one a proxy. , From 1813 to 1823 the marquis remained m the ranks of opposition. In the early part of that period E E 2 330 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. he took frequent opportunities of calling the attention of Parhament to the position in which his illustrious brother, Lord Wellington, was placed in the Peninsula. He complained of the want of cooperation fi*om the haughty but imbecile Spaniards, and he condemned the niggard supplies and reinforcements sent out by the British ministers. At the close of the war he stigma- tized, in the strongest terms, the neglect of the com- mercial interests of Britain, manifest in the treaties by which the peace of Europe was then consolidated. The restrictive measures adopted by the ministry, to check the disturbances by which the country was agitated at the close of the war, found in him a vigorous and formidable opponent. He advocated measures of gentleness and concession, as the most likely to insure tranquillity by conciliating affection. The visit of George IV. to Ireland, and the enthusi- astic reception he received from its warm-hearted popu- lation, led to some change of policy in the government of that country. It was resolved that the Catholics should be conciliated, though not emancipated ; and the zeal which the Marquis of Wellesley had displayed in advocating the Catholic claims, pointed him out as the most proper person to effect the change. His con- ciliatory policy gave gi'eat ofTtence to the leaders of what was called the Protestant party, who had hitherto held exclusive possession of power. A personal attack was made on the lord-heutenant when he visited the theatre, and the authors of the outrage escaped with impunity. His difhculties were increased by the ag)-a- riau disturbances which distracted the southern coun- ties. Insurrections, conflagrations, and murders were necessarily met by measuies of coercion, and the op- portunities for carrying out a conciliatory policy were few and far between. The marquis, however, met the difficulties of his position with gi-eat firmness, wis- dom, and discretion ; but his eflfbrts wei-e not crowned with the success Vvhich he had anticipated, and he probably was not soriy when the accession of his brother to the office of premier led to his removal. While lord-lieutenant, he took for his second wife a Catholic lady, the widow of INIr. Robert Patterson. MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 331 His first marriage had been unfortunate, and its issue was not recognized by the laws of England. Under Earl Grey's administration the Marquis of Wellesley was induced to accept the government of Ireland a second time, having previously held the office of Lord High Steward. Several practical ameliorations were effected during this brief administration, which was. abruptly brought to a close when the Whig minis- ters were dismissed by William IV. in 1834. Lord Wellesley took an active part in the measures which led to the overthrow of the Peel cabinet and the restor- ation of the Whigs, but he was not again sent to Ireland ; and though he held the office of Lord Chamberlain for a few months, he may be said to have abandoned public life from the time he quitted the viceroyalty. In 1837 it became known that the Marquis of Wellesley was in very embarrassed circumstances ; the Court of East India Directors took the opportunity of performing an act of tardy justice, and voted him a liberal grant of money, not only with unanimity, but with great enthusiasm. This first step toward ac- knowledging the merit of an administration which had been long studiously maligned, was followed by an equally honorable testimony in 1840, when it was re- solved that a marble statue should be erected in the India House to commemorate his services. During the eight years in which he lived retired from public life, Lord Wellesley devoted himself to classical studies : they had nurtured his youth, and now they solaced his age. He printed a small volume of Latin and English poems, for private circulation, which exhibit great vigor of thought, and an extraordinary command of language. He died on the 22d of Sep- tember, 1842, full of years and honors. He had lived to see the brothers for whom he had sacrificed much in youth raised to the highest dignities of the empire, and the one whose talents he had been the first to appreciate universally recognized as the first warrior and statesman of Europe. Foreign writers have often expressed their surprise, that a nobleman, possessed of such high mental and moral powers, did not take a more prominent part in the councils of the British 332 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. emiiire ; but the solution of tlie question requires a more intimate knowledge of the secrets of party than is easily attainable. It is, however, more creditable to his memory, that it should be asked why he did not occupy a foremost place, than why he had been thrust into such a position. WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. Few names in political history shine with so pure a lustre as that of Wilberforce ; to the abilities of a states- man and an orator, he united the benevolence of the phi- lanthropist, and the piety of the sincere Christian. He was descended from an old and opulent mercantile fam- ily in Hull, of which city his grandfather had been twice mayor. His father dying while he was very young, he was placed under the care of the Rev. Joseph Milner, a clergyman of great worth and learning, who neglected no opportunity of impressing on the mind of his pupil a deep sense of the responsibilities involved in his duty to- ward God, and his duty toward man. The influence of this early training in vital religion was visible throughout the whole of Mr. Wilberforce's career ; the lessons of duty which he had learned as a boy he practiced as a man, and he was never ashamed of pursuing the path of strict rectitude, though often exposed to the sneers of the selfish and the worldly-minded. At the university of Cambridge, where he was a diligent and successful student, he became acquainted with Mr. Pitt, and form- ed a strict friendship with him, which, in spite of some political differences, continued unabated to the close of that statesman's career. After quitting the university he made a short tour upon the continent, and indulged a little in those dissipations which were then too com- monly associated with fashionable life ; but soon after his return to England, he broke off all connection with these dangerous gaieties, and having become acquainted with Thomas Clarkson, resolved to devote his energies to the abolition of Negro slavery. 334 MOP^^TIN BRITISH PLUTAUCII. Mr. Wilberforce first entered Parliament as member for his native town, and early obtained high reputation as an orator, a philanthropist, and a patriot. He joined the party of Mr. Pitt, and when that gentleman was driven from office by the coalition between Mr. Fox and Lord North, he opposed the new ministiy, which in- deed had neither the confidence of the king nor that of the country. On the dissolution of Parliament he was invited to stand for the county of York, and though most powerfully opposed, found himself in 1784 the repre- sentative of the largest constituency in England, and the possessor of gi-eater political influence than was ever wielded by a single individual. A few personal friends, chiefly united to Mr. Wilber- force by the similarity of their religious opinions, formed the party on which he relied when he first raised his voice against the slave trade ; the most eminent states- men in the House of Commons, with the single excep- tion of Mr. Windham, lent their aid to vindicate the cause of outi'aged humanity ; but the struggle was pro- ti-acted for more than twenty years, and but for the steady perseverance of Mr. Wilberforce, and the small band of his immediate associates, it is probable that the triumph of humanity might remain to be yet accom- plished. It is not possible to estimate rightly the mer- its of those who devoted themselves to the cause of abolition, without taking into account the gi-eat obstacles against which they had to contend. In the first place, George III. was decidedly opposed to abolition ; he re- garded the question with the utmost abhorrence, not merely because it was an innovation, nor even because it was opposed to the strong prejudices he had formed on the subject of the colonies, but because he atti'ibuted the zeal manifested for the negi'oes to the influence of the French theories respecting the rights of man, and in some way associated every plea in favor of any great change, with the delusions of that infidel philosophy which menaced the security of eveiy throne in Chris- tendom. The gi-eat majority of the House of Lords had taken a similar view of the matter ; they saw that those who advocated abolition in France were among the most zealous enemies of the monarchy, the nobiUty, and WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 335 the church, and they feared that the triumph of auy project advocated by such men, would be an encourage- ment to the progress of their other principles. It was reasonable to expect the hostility of the West India pro- prietors ; a body of men which then possessed great power in Parliament, and which still exercises consider- able influence over the debates and decisions of the legis- lature. They dreaded that if the supply of slaves should be stopped, their estates would become worthless from want of laborers ; and, at a later period, the revolt of the negroes in St. Domingo, which they attributed to the abolitionists of France, filled them with the greatest alarm for the security of their property. What is called "the shipping interest" was another powerful body, vehemently opposed to the policy of Mr. Wilberforce : the slave trade appeared to pay higher rates of freight than any other branch of traffic, and per- haps no commerce was more highly valued in Bristol and Liverpool. All who manufactured goods for the African market were, or rather supposed themselves, interested in the maintenance of the slave trade, and could not easily be persuaded that a more legitimate commerce would produce an equal demand for their goods. In fine, the great bulk of the English nation, at the commencement of the struggle, was not merely apathetic, but even hostile to the policy advocated by Wilberforce. The loss of the American colonies had given to the people a very exaggerated opinion of the importance and value of those colonies which remained faithful in their allegiance ; no one could then have anti- cipated, what experience has subsequently proved, that the Americans are more valuable customers since they declared their independence, than they ever could have been, had they continued in the condition of colonists. It was fortunate for the gi'eat cause of humanity that its advocacy was entrusted at this period to one who, like Wilberforce, commanded respect by his character, while he carried conviction by his eloquence. His phy- sical weakness set off by contrast the strength of his moral power; his melodious voice, which, however, sometimes too nearly approached a whine, was admira- bly suited to thp pathetic and persuasive arguments 336 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. which formed the great staple of his oratory. Occa- sionally bold and impassioned, he was very rarely sar- castic, and then only when he believed that a sneer was intended against religion rather than against himself. From the rich stores of his cultivated mind he poured forth a continuous supply of valuable information and well digested knowledge, enriched by classical allusion and the higher graces of rhetoric. But when he reverently touched on some of the more sublime topics of Holy Writ, he seemed to have caught some share of prophetic inspiration. " Few passages," says Lord Brougham, " can be cited in the oratory of modern times, of a more electrical effect than the singularly felicitous and striking allusion to Mr. Pitt resisting the torrent of Jacobin prin- ciples, — " He stood hehveen the living and the dead, and the plague was stayed.''^ It was long before the public mind arrived at the con- clusion that the slave trade, from beginning to end, was not a commerce but a crime, that its gains were derived from piUage and murder, and that it led, almost neces- sarily, those who were engaged in it to stain their souls with abominable fraud and detestable cruelty. But the perseverance of the little band of abolitionists at last forced attention to the subject, and when once inquiry was seriously undertaken its effect was irresistible. From apathy, if not hostility, the great body of the peo- ple passed to an earnest zeal in the cause of abolition, and the iniquity of the slave trade was at different times denounced by the all but unanimous voice of the nation. In 1804 Mr. Wilberforce, for the first time, succeeded in carrying the bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade through the House of Commons, but it was rejected by the Lords, and in the next session it was lost in the Commons. In the following year, resolutions condem- natory of the slave trade were adopted by both houses of Parliament, and in 1807 the bill for its suppression finally became the law of England. Though personally and politically attached to Mr. Pitt, Wilberforce never was a partisan ; he differed from the minister on two most important occasions, on the commencement of the war against France in 1793, and on the impeachment of Lord Melville. On the WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 337 former occasion, Mr. Pitt employed a stratagem to keep Wilberlbrce from proclaiming his sentiments in favor of peace ; it is now generally known that Pitt himself was adverse to the war, and was reluctantly induced to consent to hostilities by the king's personal influence ; he would, therefore, have felt his difficulties greatly in- creased had he to contend publicly against the friend with whom he agreed in private. Mr. Wilberforce's speech against Lord Melville is said to have won forty votes in favor of the impeachment of that nobleman ; an extraordinary achievement, for parliamentary eloquence rarely succeeds in changing a vote. After having represented the county of York for about forty years, so much to the satisfaction of his constit- uents, that on one occasion of a contested election they raised the sum of seventy thousand pounds to defray the expenses of the struggle, he resigned this post in 1812, and became member for Bramber, a less laborious though a less glorious seat. The only other great po- litical question in which Wilberforce took a leading part was Catholic Emancipation, which he advocated, though persuaded that the measure would not of itself restore tranquility to Ireland. As an author, he is best known by his " Practical View of Christianity," a work which has had a very important share in effecting that religious improvement of the higher classes, which so strongly distinguishes the present age from the past. In private life Mr. Wilberforce exhibited the same active benevolence and the same Christian piety which marked his public career ; one-fourth of his not very ample fortune was spent in acts of charity and philan- thropy ; his conversation was eagerly sought by the wise and good, who derived both pleasure and profit from his vast and varied stores of original thought and acquired information. He died in a gi'een old age during the summer of 1833, and was buried in Westmmster Abbey ; no less than thirty peers and one hundred and thirty members of the House of Commons attended the funeral, eager to pay the last tribute of respect to one who had raised the character of the British legislature in every land where rationed freedom is loved, and gen- uine philanthropy regarded. ■;>,-:• P F SIR DAVID WILKIE. Or few painters could it be more truly said that his life was his art, and his art his life, than Sir David Wil- kie ; he clung to it in his early struggles, he did not relinquish it in subsequent prosperity ; it raised him from his cradle, it sunk him in his gi-ave. He was the son of the minister of the parish of Cults, in the Scot- tish county of Fife, and was born in the manse, as par- sonage-houses are called in Scotland, November 18th, 1785. Scarcely had he escaped from his mother's bosom, when he began to draw such figuies as struck his young fancy, on the sands by the side of Eden- water, on the smooth stones of the field, or on the floors of the manse ; he used himself to declare that he could draw before he could read, and paint before he could spell. At school his regular studies were neglected for rude but characteristic portraits of his playmates and associ- ates ; even the sanctity of the kirk could not check his propensity, for, during divine sei^ice, he was frequently detected in drawing the heads of the congregation. When the minister of Cults saw that his son's mind was set on painting, he endeavored to dissuade liim from entering on such an arduous profession ; but, finding that his arguments produced little effect, he re- solved to gi'atify his inclinations, and send him to re- ceive instructions in Edinburgh. A letter of inti-oduction to the Trustees' Academy of Edinburgh was obtained fi-om the Earl of Leven, and thither Wilkie proceeded in November, 1799, being about fourteen years of age. Mr. George Thompson, who was then, and long after- SIR DAVID WILKIE. 339 ward, the secretary to the Academy, saw no merit in the drawings which the boy presented to him as speci- mens ; but the influence of an earl overcame the scruples of a secretary, and Wilkie's name was placed on the books. About the time that he entered, Mr. John Graham was appointed master of the Academy, a kind and ardent man, who had the tact of inspiring his pupils with a share of his own enthusiasm ; he was the first to introduce oil-painting and premiums into the Academy, and had to encounter opposition, similar to that which has been offered to both in modern schools of design. Wilkie's progi-ess soon excited general admi- ration ; he was distinguished from all his associates by his shrewd conception of character, and great originality of observation ; but the subjects given out for prizes were rarely such as called his peculiar powers into action. In 1803, however, he obtained a prize often guineas, for a picture of Calisto and Diana, and the first use he made of the money was to send a token of remembrance to his mother. In 1804, he returned to Cults, where he painted several portraits, and a picture of " Pitlessie Fair," which, though defective as a work of art, exhib- ited great merits as a faithful delineation of life and natm-e. A present of two lay figures, from the Rev. Dr. Martin, greatly assisted his progress in art ; and his next picture, the " Village Recruit," showed proofs of rapid improvement. But the resources of Cults were soon exhausted; he resolved to visit London, and, having collected a small stock of money by the sale of his pictures, he took his departure for the great metrop- ohs, in the packet from Leith, May 20th, 1805. It was not until the middle of July, that Wilkie was able to enter as a practitioner, preparatory to becoming a stu- dent in the Royal Academy. He was able, however, to dispose of some of his pictures in London ; they were displayed in a window near Charing Cross, and, though the work of an unknown artist, excited much attention. In September, 1805, Wilkie had the good fortune to become acquainted with Mr. Stodart, an eminent piano- forte manufacturer, by whom he was inti'oduced to the Earl of Mansfield, who gave him a commission for the 340 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. picture of the " Village Politicians :" before it was fin- ished, the fame of its merits spread abroad; Sir George Beaumont and Lord Mulgrave visited the artist, and not only praised his worii., but ordered pictures for them- selves. Thus, at the age of one-and-twenty, he felt himself entering on a certain career of fame, though he had still to sti-uggle against difficulties of fortune. The " Village Politicians," when displayed in 1806 at the Royal Academy, created a great sensation ; there was a dail> crush to see it; crowd succeeded crowd of gazers, from morning till night. The next picture which he exhibited, was painted for his generous pati-on and judicious friend. Sir George Beaumont; it was "The Blind Fiddler," which, for unity of purpose, is his finest work, and which he hardly surpassed at any time in variety of character and force of delineation. It tells the story as plainly as if the actors spoke : the very name of the work is superfluous, for no one can look upon it without feeling and understanding the whole. It attracted great admi- ration in the exhibition, and fairly established the artist's fame. His health, however, compelled him to visit Scotland, and seek the benefit of his native air. On his return to London, he completed the " Card-Players," " Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage," the " Sick Lady," and the " Jew's Harp," all of which maintained his reputation, while the " Rent Day" greatly added to his character for dramatic power in art, and his skill in making a picture tell a complete sto^y. These were follow^ed by " The Cut Finger," " The Reading of the Will," and the "Village Festival," works which secured his election as an Associate of the Royal Academy. His journal proves that he worked hard to obtain dis- tinction ; he altered, rubbed out, restored, retouched, finished, sparing neither time nor toil to insure perfec- tion. In 1811, Wilkie became a Royal Academician, and presented as his diploma picture, " Boys digging for Rats," which, though limited in its subject, is remarka- ble for its life, vigor, and truth. In the following year he opened an exhibition of his pictures, which extended his fame, but yielded little pecuniary profit. His father, SIR DAVID WILKIE. 341 to whom he was fondly attached, died at the close of the year, upon which Wilkie brought his mother and sister to reside with him in London. He soon after completed the picture of " Blindman's Buff," which, as an engraving, enjoys unabated popularity. After a short visit to Paris, by which he declared himself more astonished than insti'ucted, he produced the " Distraining for Rent," on which he bestowed more than ordinary pains. As it was one which he highly estimated himself, and often mentioned as his best delineation of actual life in his peculiar style, we shall insert Allan Cunningham's vivid description of its subject : — " The scene is very happily imagined, the house is not without warnings of what is coming : the idle jack, the burnt-out fire, the empty bee-hive, are so many intimations of mismanagement, or slackness of industry. Though the visit of the bailiff, Avith the lawyer's clerk, has thrown the house, and all it contains, into violent commotion, such a visit, it is plain, could not be wholly unexpected. The human heart is prone to compassion ; and that of the spectator melts at the sight of the fainting mother and her helpless children, already in want of food, and about to be deprived of bed and bed- ding. The father seems to upbraid himself for the misery which has fallen on all that he loved ; and there are willing hands and ready tongues at his side to aid and assist him in retaining a hold of his own. In the midst of all this the merciless lawyer, a smooth, snug, smart-dressed man, sits on the bed-side, making out an inventory of the poor tenant's goods and chattels, under protection of the bailiff, who holds his cudgel hke one who can use it, and eyes the frowning group like one who has more law on his side than tenderness in his lieart. A fellow in a cap, who seems to be drowsy with drink, calls out the names, and lays his hand on the various articles as the other writes ; while, at the other end of the picture, a woman in a Scotch mutch holds her apron near her eyes, and regards the scene with a quiet glance of subdued melancholy." Passing over many works which he produced in this period of his career, there are three that must not be F f3 342 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. omitted, because they possess a national importance. " The Family of Sir Walter Scott," painted by Wilkie dm'ing a visit to Abbotsford, must ever be valued as a representation of the great dramatist at the highest point of his ambition, prosperity, and happiness ; " The Penny Wedding," painted for the prince regent, is the most characteristic delineation of rural life in Scot- land; and the "Chelsea Pensioners reading the Gazette account of Waterloo," may be regarded as one of the few historical paintings of the English school, which deserve to be regarded as truly national. Indeed, the battle of Waterloo itself made scarcely a greater stir in the land than did the " Reading of the Gazette," when it appeared in the exhibition of the Academy. The anxiety of all ranks to see it, and the consequent crush when it was displayed, have never been exceeded ; a crowd, in the shape of a half-moon, stood before it from morning till night, the taller looking over the heads of the shorter; while happy was the admirer who could obtain a peep, and still happier those who, by patient waiting, were rewarded with a full sight, as some of the earlier comers retired, wearied but not satisfied. Sol- diers hurried from drill to see it ; the pensioners came on crutches, and brought with them their wives and children to have a look ; and, as many of the heads were portraits, these were eagerly pointed out, and the fortunate heroes named, sometimes with a sliout. Such was the enthusiasm which the national picture inspired. To Wilkie, who was not conscious of having made any unusual exertion, the public rapture was both startling and pleasing. There were few of his productions on which Wilkie bestowed such pains, reflection, and study, as on the picture of " John Knox preaching before the Lords of the Congregation;" it had its foundation in history, and it was replete with interest to the land of his birth and the church of his afl^ections. His labors were inteiTupted by his being invited to paint a picture com- memorating the visit of George IV. to the capital of Scotland ; he choose the king's visit to Holja-ood. The exertions which he made were beyond his strength, and the loss of his mother aggravated his illness; a con- SIR DAVID WILKIE. o43 tinentnl tour was recommended by the physicians, and, after passing through France and Switzerland, he en- tered Italy with the feelings of a pilgi-im of art, about to visit its holiest shrines. His journals and letters are full of admirable criticism on the triumphs of sculpture and art which he witnessed in this classic land, and deserve to be attentively studied by every young artist. We can only extract one sentence from a letter to his friend Collins, but, though brief, it is pregnant with useful and important suggestions ; " From Giotto to Michael Angelo expression and sentiment seem the first thing thought of, while those who followed seem to have allowed technicalities to get the better of them, until simplicity gave way to intricacy, and they painted more for the artist and the connoisseur than for the untutored tastes of ordinary men." The year 1825 was one of serious difficulty to authors and to artists ; the failure of several large publishing houses, and the embarrassments of others, involved a large amount of suffering to all engaged in intellectual pursuits. Wilkie lost largely by the failure of Hurst , and Robinson, but he did not lose courage ; it was necessary that he should recover his health to retrieve his losses, and he continued, for several months, to enjoy the genial climate of Italy. His restoration to health, however, was slow, and he was induced to visit Germany, to try the effect of its medicinal waters. The experiment was not attended with the success he expected, but he had the gratification of examining and criticising the gi-eat collections of art in Dresden and Vienna, and the remarks which he made upon them are full of instruction to those who aspire to a knowledge of the great principles of art. In the autumn of 1826 he returned to Italy, and in the spring of the following year he resolved to visit the picture-galleries of Spain. He had several inducements to make this pilgrimage : access to the Peninsula had been opened by our sword, and smoothed by our diplo- macy, but our artists, a tijuid class, had not ventured to pass a fi'ontier fenced by old fears, rather than by pre- sent dangers ; the treasures of art in Madrid, Seville, and the Escurial, were only known to them by distant 344 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. fame and reputation. To see Murillo, and still more Velasquez, to ascertain if their merits were equal to their fame, and if, as he had guessed from the specimens he had seen, the style of the latter agreed in spirit with the English school, made one great object of his journey. Moreover, his medical advisers had recommended a three years' trial of foreign air, and but two years of the period had expired. It may also be added, that he had all but resolved on a change of style, and desired to have the sanction of Velasquez in a matter of such moment. He entered Spain in the September of 1827, and pro- ceeded to Madi'id, where he had the pleasure to meet Washington Irving, then the American minister at that court, Lord Mahon, who was connected with the Eng- lish Embassy, and Prince Dolgorouki of the Russian Legation ; through their exertions, and those of his other friends, every facility was afforded him by the Spanish authoi-ities, and the gratification which his tastes re- ceived, contributed greatly to the restoration of his health. We extract from one of his letters a valuable passage on the popular admiration of Murillo, in Seville. "You have, no doubt, been struck with that quality of power, in Murillo, that makes him admired by the unlearned, as well as the learned, in the ait. Being a favorite in all countries, it is not surprising that he should be so in Seville. Here, even among the lower classes, he is venerated, as if he were the patriot and benefactor of the city ; his name is with them synony- mous with all that is excellent — a general term, which makes in their eyes every beautiful picture, painted by whom it may, ' a Murillo.' Far be it from us to envy the taste of those who despise, in matters of art, the sympathy of the untutored mind ; this, when unocca- sioned by trick or deception, is perhaps one of the most solid and most lasting evidences of the power of true excellence." Wilkie returned to London in June, 1828, where fame had previously announced that health had begun to re- turn to him, and that his Spanish studies had induced him to quit the style of art in Avhich he had acquired his fame, for one requiring fewer figures, less detail, and having a more historic and even poetic character in SIR DAVID WILKIE. 345 its subjects. In the exhibition of 1829, he displayed eight pictures, three of which were Spanish, four Italian, and one the portrait of a Scotch nobleman. The Span- ish were all of a historic character, delineating scenes in the Peninsular war. None of them excited such at- tention as " The Maid of Saragossa," which is too well known to need description. The king was so pleased with the Spanish pictures, that he appointed him his Painter in Ordinary, having some years previously nom- inated him to the office of royal limner for Scotland. " The Preaching of John Knox" was not exhibited until the year 1 832 ; its success was decisive of the merits of the new style which Wilkie had adopted. The deep lucid coloring, energy of character, beauty of grouping, harmony of light and shade, and the subdued passions visible in the countenances of all the personages introduced, are in the artist's happiest manner, and, taken together, render this production a miracle of art. Next to it, perhaps, may be ranked " Christopher Co- lumbus submitting the Chart of his Voyage for the dis- covery of the New World to the Spanish Authorities," which was exhibited in 1835, and had greater dramatic interest than is usual in historical pictures. In the course of this year he visited Ireland, and took a scene from its domestic history for one of his favorite pictures, the " Peep-o-day Boy." Though WilUie valued this very highly as a work of art, it had not his usual merit of fidelity to nature ; it was as much a delineation of a Calabrian bandit as of an Irish insurgent. On the ac- cession of Queen Victoria, Wilkie was appointed Painter in Ordinary, as in the two preceding reigns, and was commissioned to paint the picture of "Her Majesty's First Council ;" he also received the honor of kniglit- hood, which had been too long delayed. He was now unquestionably at the head of British art, and every suc- cessive picture confirmed his fame. In the autumn of 1840 he set out suddenly on a journey to the East ; his objects appear to have been to paint the portraits of the young Sultan of Turkey, and the old Pasha of Egypt, to gain variety of subjects by studying remote scenes and strange manners, but above all, to collect materials for a new style of Scriptural illus- 346 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. tration, derived from actual observation of the climate and localities of the most important events recorded in the Bible. Constantinople afforded him more gi-atifica- tion than any place he had ever visited : from the ful- ness of his journals, the length of his letters, the num- ber of his sketches, and the finish of his oil-paintings, it would seem as if the pen or pencil had been constantly employed during his residence in that city. His por- trait of the Sultan was one of the most promising he ever commenced, and not far from being the best he ever painted. His tour through Syria, Palestine, and Egypt gave him a fund of materials which it would have required a life to exhaust, but, unfortunately, they and he were lost to art by his premature death. Scarcely had he quitted Malta on his return home, when he was attacked by an access of disease, which proved mortal in a few hours. The packet returned to the island, but the authorities would not permit the body to be landed, and it was committed to the deep, the burial sei-vice having been read by the Reverend James Vaughan, who was one of the passengers. Thus, in the vigor of life, was the most original, vigorous, and varied of British painters taken from the world. His loss was lamented by men of all classes and every shade of political party. Sir Robert Peel presided at the meeting held to vote a public statue to his memory : it was held on the very day of a change of ministiy ; but to prove that art is independent of political faction. Lord John Russell attended and took a leading part in the pro- ceedings. The subscription lists were soon filled, for all lovers of painting were anxious to honor one who was a brilliant ornament to British art, and an instructive example to British artists. WELLINGTON. Although the plan of this work excludes the biog- raphies of the living, it is necessary to make one illus- trious exception in favor of the great captain of the age, because his military career is at an end, and be- cause some account of that career is necessary to a complete appreciation of the services which the Mar- quis of Wellesley has rendered to his country. The future biographer of the Duke of Wellington will have to consider him under the double aspect of a warrior and a statesman ; but while he is still spared to take an active part in political life, it would be inconsistent with the course we have pursued to trace a career wliich is yet incomplete. Thirty years of peace, however, have so far removed the military services of the Duke of Wellington from the memory of the existing generation, that there can be no objection to separating the hero from the politician, and writing that portion of the Duke of Wellington's life, which, being happily completed, has taken its permanent place in history. Arthur Wellesley, the subject of the present memoir, was born at Dangan Castle, in the County of Meath, May 1st, 1769. His father died while he was yet young, and the care of his education devolved on his elder brother, the Earl of Mornington (afterwards Marquis of Wellesley), who executed his charge with more than parental affection. After a short course of instruction at Eton, Arthur, who had manifested an early passion for the army, was sent to the military academy of An- giers, then superintended by the celebrated Pignerol. At this school he displayed no indications of that supe- 318 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. riority wliicli was subsequently to astonish Europe ; his reserve appears to have been mistaken for dulness, and his silence was attributed to want of information. Hav- ing obtained the conunission of ensign in March, 1787, the parUamentary infhience of his brother insured his ra})id promotion ; so early as April, 1793, he was ad- vanced to the rank of major in the 33d regiment of foot, and in the September of the same year he became a lieutenant-colonel. His regiment was at this time quar- tered in the south of Ireland, and the young colonel attracted much attention by the unusual strictness of discipline he maintained, and the incessant care he be- stowed on drills and parades. He had previously obtained a seat in the Irish parliament, for the borough of Trim; but did not distinguish himself as a legislator, and seemed to have a distaste for political alfairs. In 1794 he was invited to a more congenial service, his regiment having been ordered to join the unfortunate expedition sent out under the command of Earl Moira to besiege Ostend. On the failure of that enterprise, Colonel Wellesley covered the rear of the retreating army, and displayed such skill and activity as to win the warm acknowledg- ments of his superior officers. He returned to England in 1795, and was soon ordered to the West Indies, but unfavorable weather having driven back the transports, the destination of the regiment was changed, and it was sent to Bengal. As British India was at this period tranquil, the government had taken the opportunity of reducing the Dutch colonies, and had projected an at- tack on those of Spain. Colonel Wellesley and his regiment had reached Penang on their way to Manilla, when the troops were recalled in consequence of the sus])icions excited by the movements of Tippoo Sultan, and the menaced invasion of the Afghans. In the life of the Marquis of Wellesley we have aheady described the dangerous condition of India at this period ; we need therefoie only say, that when it was determined to declare war against Tippoo, Colonel WeHesley was in- trusted with the charge of assembling the troops in the Presidency of Madras. The care which he bestowed on their discipline, attracted the highest praise from General Harris when he came to take the command. WELLINGTON. 349 In the campaign that ensued, Colonel Wellesley had several opportunities of displaying his skill and bravery ; to his judicious movements the success of the battle of Mallavelly must be mainly attributed, and his advice greatly influenced the operations against Seringapatam. It was necessary to dislodge the enemy from a thicket, called the Sultaun-pettahtope, and the conduct of the affair was intrusted to Colonel Wellesley. He made the attack after sunset, but his advanced line was re- ceived with such a murderous fire of guns and rockets, that it broke and fled. In the confusion and darkness the colonel was separated from his men, and did not re- join them until the following morning. He renewed the attack by daylight, and was successful. After the storming of Seringapatam the command of the fort was given to Colonel Wellesley, whose first care was to suppress the disorders in which the victorious soldiers wei'e indulging. Measures of stern severity wei'e employed to check outi'age and plunder ; they had the efl'ect of restoring tranquillity, and in a few days such confidence was established, that the markets of Sering- apatam were never more regularly supplied. From the administration of Mysore, Colonel Wellesley Avas sum- moned to take command of an expedition against Bata- via, but the government of Madras, feehng sensibly the importance of his services, requested him to decline this lucrative offbr, and retain his command in Mysore. He consented to make this sacrifice of piivate interest to the public service ; and British India had reason to be grate- ful for his determination. Among Tippoo's prisoners liberated after the capture of Seringapatam, was a notorious free-booter, named Dhoondiah Waugh. The first use this robber made of his liberty was to collect the remains of Tippoo's army. With these and other marauders, amounting to twenty thousand men, he commenced a fearful course of plun- der and rapine, assuming the proud title of " King of the World." Colonel Wellesley marched against this daring chief with such activity, that on the 1st of Au- gust, 1800, he surprised his camp, destroyed his baggage, and drove about five thousand of his followers into the river Malpoorba, where they were drowned. The flight G G 350 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. and pursuit of Dhoondiah attracted the attention of all India, but the marauder could not cope with the vigi- lance and energy of his conqueror ; lie was overtaken at Conahgull, attacked with unexpected promptitude, de- feated and slain. His camp became the prey of the victors. Lord Wellesley having resolved to send an armament to Egypt, appointed his brother to the command of the military force, but was aftei-ward reluctantly induced to transfer the charge to Sir David Baird. Colonel, or rather as he now became, General Wellesley, resumed his command in Mysore, with a discretionary power over the military and political affairs of the Deccan and the Mahratta states. Scindiah, Holkar, and the Pesh- wah, divided between them the strength of the Mah- ratta powers ; they were all hostile to the English, but were equally jealous of each other. Scindiah, how- ever, having taken up a menacing position, south of the Nerbudda, was the first object of attention, and General Wellesley, having vainly tiied to induce him to remove, was compelled to employ force. After capturing the strong fort of Ahmednuggur, the general commenced a harassing campaign of marches and countermarches in a country which was almost destitute of supphes. His great object was to force the enemy to a battle, but the difficulty of procuring intelligence was so gi-eat that he could not discover where the Mahrattas were posted. Having sent Colonel Stephenson by one road, he took another himself, and was thus unexpectedly brought into the presence of the whole Mahratta army, with only a portion of his own forces. The hostile ti'oops were posted near the village of Assaye, on a small pe- ninsula, formed by the rivers Kaitna and Jouah ; in this position they could not avail themselves of their vast superiority of numbers to outflank the British, and of this favorable circumstance General Wellesley resolved to take immediate advantage. The battle was one of the most desperate ever fought in India; it lasted from noon to night, and was of doubtful issue almost to the very close ; but, finally, the skilful dispositions of the English general, and the unshaken firmness of his fol- lowers, prevailed ; Scindiah fled, abandoning his artilleiy WELLINGTON. 351 and baggage, but the victors lost in killed and wounded nearly one-third of their small but gallant army. The results of the battle of Assaye would have been decisive, had the Nizam, whose territories it was the object of the general to protect, faithfully adhered to his engagements ; but, through his fickleness or treachery, the opportunity of terminating the war by a single blow was lost. General Wellesley, however, covered the siege of Aseerghur, and protected the English aUies. At length, when a favorable opportunity offered, he pushed forward to the frontiers of Berar, the rajah of which was the chief support of Scindiah. The English overtook the enemy on the plains of Argaum, and, though it was late in the evening, immediately com- menced the attack. Again the skilful tactics of General Wellesley were found to be more than a compensation for his great disparity of forces ; the united armies of Scindiah and the rajah were completely routed, and at this time with but trifling loss to the conqueroi^s. The capture of Garvilghur, one of the strongest hill-forts in India, soon followed, and the Rajah of Berar was so disheartened that he solicited terms of peace. Scindiah, left without an ally, was also forced to submission, and received more favorable terms than he merited or ex- pected. Holkar, who had taken no part in the war, assumed a menacing attitude at its conclusion ; but, hav- ing been severely defeated by General Lake, he was forced to abandon his hostile designs, and all danger from the Mahratta power seemed to be at an end. General Wellesley, who had long been weary of India, took advantage of the restored tranquillity to solicit his recall. His services were rewarded by the thanks of the House of Lords, while the king conferred on him a knighthood, and the Order of the Bath. He quitted India in March, 1805, and reached England in the fol- lowing September. Sir Arthur Wellesley had not been long at home, when he was sent on an abortive expedition to Hanover, under the command of Lord Cathcart. After his re- tm-n, he was elected a member of the English Parlia- ment, and was soon after united in marriage to Miss Packenham, the daughter of Lord Longford. In April, 352 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 1807, he was appointed secretary for Ireland; but was soon called from the duties of his office to take a part in the expedition destined to act against Copenhagen. His services on this occasion were not very marked, though his defeat of the Danes at Kioge accelerated the sur- render of the Danish fleet and naval stores, which it was the object of the expedition to procure. On return- ing to resume his duties as secretary, he received the thanks of the House of Commons for the zeal, intrepid- ity, and energy which he had displayed. In the spring of 1808, he was summoned to lead an expedition to a land which subsequently became the theatre of his greatest glories. An armament was pre- pared at Cork, to support the resistance to Napoleon, which had commenced in Spain and Portugal; Sir Ar- thur Wellesley was appointed to the command ; and as the Spaniards declined his aid, he resolved to effect a landing in the north of Portugal. After some consulta- tion, it was resolved that the disembarkation should be effected at the mouth of the Mondego river. It was happily accomplished ; but the perplexities of the gen- eral rapidly inci'eased from the moment he reached the shore. He had only twelve thousand men, few of whom had ever been under fire ; his cavalry was insufficient for the services required ; his commissariat was badly supplied, and his Portuguese allies had no confidence in him or in themselves. Junot, the French commander in Portugal, sent a division under Delaborde, to keep Wellesley in check, and ordered Loison to march by a different route, with the intention of uniting the two di- visions at Leyria. But the promptitude of the English disconcerted these arrangements. Delaborde was at- tacked on the 16th of August in his strong position at Rolica. After a smart contest of two hours, the French were defeated ; but they retreated in good order, and Delaborde eflfected a junction with Loison at Torres Vedras. Having been reinforced by two brigades. Sir Arthur Wellesley was about to follow up his success by turning the French position, and thus compelling the enemy either to fight at a disadvantage or to abandon Lisbon; but he was superseded at this crisis by Sir Hariy Burrard, a general worn out by age and infirmi- WELLINGTON. 353 ties. Burrard refused to hazard a battle until the rein- forcements he expected had arrived. The French, however, were resolved to bring the matter to a more speedy issue, and on the morning of the 21st of August they assailed the English position at Vimiero, with the determination that announced a sanguinary struggle. The principal attack was made upon the British left and centre ; but it was repulsed with great bravery, and the fortune of the day would then have been de- cided but for Wellesley's want of cavalry. Colonel Taylor, with the few horse under his command, charged the broken bands, and scattered them with great execu- tion ; but he was in turn assailed by overwhelming squadrons, and his little band retreated, having lost their brave commander and half of their own number. This enabled the French to renew the engagement ; but they were repulsed more decisively than before ; their bri- gades were separated from each other; General Hill was master of the road to Torres Vedras, and a general movement in advance must have completed Junot's ruin ; but at this moment Sir Harry Burrard took the management of affairs into his own hands, and ordered all further operations to be suspended. The French officers, much to their astonishment, were allowed to rally their men, and they made good their retreat to the strong position of Ton-es Vedras. On the following day, Sir Harry Burrard was superseded by Sir Hew Dalrymple, and he concluded a convention with Junot, by which the French agreed to evacuate Portugal, but were permitted to retain all their plunder. Great indignation was felt in England when the intel- ligence of this convention arrived ; but no part of it fell on Sir Arthur Wellesley, who received the thanks of both houses of Parliament for his conduct at Vimiero. The affairs of the Peninsula fast assumed a disastrous aspect ; the brave but unfortunate Sir John Moore had fallen at Corunna, in achieving a victory which only se- cured for his soldiers a safe retreat ; the Spaniards had everywhere been defeated, and the French, under Mar- shal Soult, had again invaded Portugal, and were in pos- session of Oporto. Such was the condition of affairs when Sir Arthur Wellesley was sent out to take the com- 23 G G 2 354 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. mand. His landing at Lisbon diffused joy throughout Portugal; he remained some days in the capital, to make suitable arrangements for the commissariat, so as to insure a regular supply of food and pay to theti'oops, and then advanced toward the Douro. The passage of this broad and deep river, when the opposite bank was guarded by ten thousand veterans, presented a formida- ble obstacle ; but Sir Arthur Wellesley, having collected a few boats, pushed a detachment across, which seized an unfinished building, and held possession of this post, in spite of the most desperate assaults, until other di- visions came over to their assistance. In the mean time, General Sherbrooke, who had crossed the river at the feriy near Oporto, led his }nen through the streets of the city, and attacked the French in the rear, while General Murray assailed their left flank. The enemy, thus pressed on all sides, fled in confusion, and, had the English been in a condition to continue the pursuit, the French army would have been entirely destroyed. Soult was now compelled to evacuate Portugal, and he conducted his reti'eat with such admirable skill as to yield no advantage to his pursuers. Sir Arthur Welles- ley did not immediately follow him into Spain ; he was in want of money and supplies, which had not yet ar- rived from England, and the ungrateful Portuguese refused to lend him any assistance. Even when the expected ti'easure reached Lisbon, it was found inade- quate ; but as the Spanish authorities pressed eagerly for an advance, Sir Arthur Wellesley crossed the fron- tier, hoping to profit by the promised cooperation of the Spanish general Cuesta. But the Spaniards were too obstinate and too bigoted to join cordially with the allies whose aid they had invited ; neither carts nor mules could be procured for the service of the army, provis- ions were insufliciently supplied, and Cuesta thwarted every plan which Sir Arthur Wellesley proposed. Un- der these disadvantageous circumstances, the English advanced to Talavera, exposed to imminent danger of being suirounded, as the Spaniards kept them ignorant of the movements of the French. On the evening of the 27th of July, 1809, Marshal Victor made a fierce attack on the left of the British lines, which was repulsed WELLINGTON. 355 after some hard fighting. The attempt was renewed on the morning of the 28th, with similar results ; and then Joseph Bonaparte, the pretender to the crown of Spain, resolved to hazard a general engagement. In numbers of men and guns the armies of the allies and the French were nearly equal ; but the Spaniards, un- der Cuesta, were worse than useless, and Sir Arthur Wellesley could only rely on twenty thousand men to oppose fifty thousand of the enemy. Few battles have been more fiercely contested ; victory more than once seemed likely to be decided in favor of the French, but they were finally repulsed at all points, leaving behind them a large number of prisoners and seventeen pieces of artillery. A dreadful accident closed this eventful day ; the long dry grass on the field of battle took fire, and a volume of flame spreading rapidly, inclosed and consumed many of the wounded whom there had not been time to remove. Badly as the Spaniards had behaved in the battle, their subsequent conduct was much worse. They with- held food from the English ti'oops, though they had plenty of grain in their stores ; and after Cuesta had agreed to protect the wounded, while Wellesley ad- vanced against Soult, he at once abandoned them to the enemy. The advance of the Enghsh was the result of false information respecting Soult's strength ; his forces were more than double those advancing against him, and the inexplicable retreat of Cuesta exposed the Eng- lish to be attacked by a second army under King Joseph and Marshal Victor in the rear. Fortunately some in- tercepted letters revealed to Sir Arthur the peril of his position ; it required all his skill to extricate himself from such hazards, especially as the intractable Span- iards at this crisis either refused assistance or proved faithless lo their promises. At length, worn out, he retired to the frontiers of Portugal ; this retrograde move- ment exposed him to much obloquy, but the British government, justly appreciating his services, raised him to the peerage by the title of Lord Wellington. Napoleon having conquered the Austrians, was able to send immense armies into Spain ; he entrusted the command to Massena, with orders " to drive the Eng- 356 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. lish into the sea." Wellington had secretly formed his own plan of a defensive campaign, and from this he could not be induced to depart by the impatience of friends or the insults of enemies. The unexpected fall of Almeida compelled the English to continue their re- treat, and Massena followed them, confident that he would drive them to their ships. But on the 27th of September they halted on the ridge of Busaco, and in- flicted on the French a defeat so severe as effectually to quell the ardor of their advance, and the reti'eat was then leisurely continued to the memorable lines of Tor- res Vedras. Great was the surprise and disappointment of Massena when he saw the English, instead of retreating to their ships, occupying a position so strong by nature and so improved by art as to defy every assailant. Wellington, having free communications with the sea, was able to supply his troops abundantly, while the French, re- moved to a gi-eat distance from their magazines, in a hostile and wasted country, suffered the severest dis- tress. At length, Massena, despairing of an attack on the English lines, fell back on Santarem and fortified himself in turn. The winter of 1810 was passed in com- parative inactivity ; a faction hostile to the English had been formed in Lisbon, and its vexatious intrigues gave Wellington more trouble than the abortive efforts of the French armies. In Spain the affairs of the allies con- tinued to wear a gloomy aspect ; General Graham (after- ward Lord Lynedoch) won a brilliant victory at Barosa, but the folly and obstinacy of the Spaniards rendered it fruitless. Even this success was more than counter- balanced by the loss of the sti'ong fortress of Badajoz, which its governor, either through cowardice or treach- ery, surrendered to Soult at the very moment that the English were hastening to its relief. This, indeed, was the great crisis of the war. In England the further de- fence of the Peninsula was deemed hopeless ; the oppo- sition in Parliament urged that the troops should be brought home; the ministers seemed to hesitate, and Wellington alone appeared to maintain unshaken confi- dence. As he had foreseen, Massena's fine army was gradually mouldering away under the combined effects WELLINGTON. 357 of famine, of the weather, and of a system of partisan warfare in which success brought no advantage. Mas- sena, however, held his ground until the 5th of March, 1811, when he commenced his reti-eat, and Wellington immediately advanced in pursuit. The whole country afforded the retreating army a variety of advantageous positions to halt and check the pursuers. Of these Ney and Massena frequently availed themselves, and several smart actions were fought, all of which terminated to the disadvantage of the French. Massena vented his indignation in the most barbarous atrocities. Every town and village through which his army passed, was burned to the ground, and the unfortunate peasants were subjected to the most cruel outrages. At length, early in April, Massena crossed the frontier into Spain, and Portugal was delivered from the presence of an enemy. To Wellington alone belongs the merit of this triumph, which was in fact accomplished in spite of his allies rather than with their cooperation. Wellington having blockaded Almeida, was making preparations for the siege of Badajoz, when Massena suddenly resumed the offensive, and assailed the British position at Fuentes de Onoro, a place which this battle rendered worthy of its name, which signifies " Foun- tains of Honor." The combat spread over three days, but the decisive struggle took place on the 5th of May, when the English, though inferior in numbers and dis- advantageously posted, drove back their assailants in great confusion, and Almeida, which they had vainly attempted to relieve, was evacuated by its garrison. Marmont, who succeeded Massena, led his disheartened forces to Salamanca, and put them into cantonments. In the mean time. Marshal Beresford had commenced the siege of Badajoz ; Soult rapidly advanced to its re- lief, and Beresford, abandoning the siege, resolved to fight a pitched battle. At nine o'clock on the morning of the 15th of May, the British position at Albuera was attacked with gi-eat impetuosity, and defended with ob- stinate valor. Rarely has there been so sanguinary a struggle ; out of six thousand British troops only fifteen hundred remained unwounded ; but victory was decided in their favor, and the overthrow of Soult would have 358 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. been complete but for the characteristic slowness and obstinacy of the Spaniards. Wellington came up shortly after the battle, and the siege of Badajoz was resumed ; two attempts, however, to take the place by storm having failed, Wellington, during the rest of the cam- paign, limited his operations to securing the safety of Portugal. The winter, however, was not spent inactively. Wellington in silence and secrecy made preparations for the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo, and before the French could suspect his intentions invested the place on the 8th of January, 1812. On the 19th it was stormed, but the loss on the part of the British was veiy heavy. Marmont, who was advancing to raise the siege, ex- pressed the greatest astonishment at its early fall ; but a still more unpleasant sui-prise was the storming of Badajoz, after a sharp siege, on the night of the 6th of April. This was one of the most sanguinary events in the war ; the loss of the allies amounted to seventy-two officers, and nine hundred and sixty-three men killed, and three hundred and six officers and three thousand four hundred and eighty men wounded. Having pro- vided for the security of these important conquests, Wellington advanced into Spain, and on the 21st of July came into presence of Marmont's army in the neighbor- hood of Salamanca. Some time was spent in various evolutions, by which each general sought to gain some advantage over his opponent, but in the afternoon of the 22d, Marmont extended his left for the purpose of outflanking the British, and Wellington took advantage of this eiTor to force him to an engagement. His lord- ship strengthened his right wing, and falling on Mar- mont's extended left, broke it by a brilliant charge, and drove it upon the front, which fell into confusion. Wherever the French attempted to make a stand they were charged by the bayonet, and driven from one height to another. Marmont, being severely wounded, gave the command to Bounet ; he too was wounded, but Clausel, who had come up with fresh troops, made a vigorous effort to retrieve the fortunes of the day. Nothing, however, could resist the impetuosity of the British ; the French were everywhere beaten, and WELLINGTON. 359 night alone saved them from destruction. The pursuit was renewed on the following morning, and many prisoners were taken. Eight days after the battle, Welhngton entered Valladolid, and on the 12th of Au- gust he gained possession of Madrid. But brilliant as his success had been, the situation of Lord Wellington in the Spanish capital was extremely critical. He had relied on the effect of a British expe- dition from Sicily to the east coast of Spain, to make a diversion in his favor ; the Spaniards would not afford him any assistance, but deranged his best plans by re- peated disobedience of orders. He was defeated in an attempt to take the castle of Burgos, and finding himself in danger of being enveloped by the French armies, he fell back on Ciudad Rqdrigo, and, at the close of the campaign, the British had resumed their old position on the frontiers of Portugal. At the opening of the campaign of 1813 the French were deprived of the services of Soult, who had been summoned to take part in the invasion of Russia. King Joseph, aided by Marshal Jourdan, had the principal command ; but as Joseph was no soldier, and was tho- roughly despised by the French officers, there was little unity or confidence in his councils. On the other hand, the provisional government of Spain had made Wellington commander-in-chief of their armies, and had taken some steps to improve the discipline and effect- iveness of their troops ; through the exertions of Mar- shal Beresford, the Portuguese had been so trained as to rank next to the British, and these during the winter had been so strengthened and renovated, that there was probably never an army better prepared to take the field. Active operations commenced in the middle of May. King Joseph retreated as the English advanced ; Madrid was once more recovered ; Burgos was aban- doned ; the position which the French tried to establish on the Ebro was turned ; and Joseph was at length compelled to make his last stand for a kingdom at Vit- toria. On the morning of the 21st of June, Wellington gave orders to commence the attack on the French hues. The complicated movements he had planned, were exe- 360 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. cuted with such precision that there was not a failure in any single instance ; animated by the example of the English, the Portuguese and Spaniards behaved with unusual bravery, while the French fought with less courage than in any former battle. Driven from all their positions, the enemy began to retreat on the road to Bayonne, but being here intercepted by Sir Thomas Graham, they were obliged to turn off towards Pampe- luna, and the confusion consequent on this change of direction soon converted their retreat into a precipitate flight. Artillery, ammunition, and baggage were aban- doned ; King Joseph himself narrowly escaped captivity, but his carriage, papers, and the plunder he had col- lected in Spain, were taken. Few battles recorded in history have been more decisive. To the French cause in Spain it was fatal and irremediable. The spoils ob- tained by the conquerors were immense, and the money, wine, and other luxuries so engaged the soldiers as greatly to check the ardor of the pursuit. But the con- sequences of the battle of Vittoria were not confined to Spain ; it gave courage and confidence to the allied armies in Germany, and decided the Austi'ians to enter heartily into the coalition against Napoleon. The fortresses of Pampeluna and St. Sebastian were now the only possessions of the French in the north of Spain, though Suchet, with an army of 40,000 men, still held his ground in Catalonia. Wellington having made arrangements for the siege of these fortresses, ad- vanced with the main body of his army, to occupy the passes of the Pyrenees, from Roncesvalles, so celebrated in poetry and romance, to Irun, at the mouth of the Bidassoa. Soult was now sent by Napoleon to take the com- mand of the French armies, and endeavor to raise the siege of Pampeluna. A week of constant fighting in the passes of the Pyi-enees severely tested the skill of the generals and the valor of the armies. At length, Soult was driven back completely foiled, and nothing but the negligence of the Spaniards saved him from being forced to surrender at discretion. St. Sebastian having been taken by storm after a dreadful loss of life, and Pampe- luna having surrendered, Wellington pursued Soult be- WELLINGTON. 361 yond the frontier, and an English army was thus placed on the soil of France. Early in 1814, Wellington, having with some difficulty obtained the requisite supplies from England, advanced against Soult, and compelled him to abandon the en- trenched camp which he had formed under the w^alls of Bayonne. On the 27th of February he encountered the French army at Orthez, and routed it completely. The consequences of this victory were the investment of Bayonne and the surrender of Bordeaux, the citizens of which, contrary to Wellington's wishes, proclaimed the restoration of the Bourbons. Soult continued to re- treat, and the English to advance, while the strict disci- pline maintained by Lord Wellington conciliated the French people, and led them to regard their invaders almost in the light of allies. It was, however, the 9th of April before the English could overtake their enemies at Toulouse, and on the following day a battle ensued equally sanguinary and useless. Its results were not very decisive, but Soult showed consciousness of defeat by abandoning this important town. The English had scarcely entered it, when intelligence was received of the abdication of Napoleon, and the consequent termina- tion of the war. Wellington, in consequence, proceeded to Paris, and thence accompanied the allied sovereigns to England. He had risen through all the grades of the peerage to a dukedom, and when he took his seat in the House of Lords his various patents were read in the same day. He received the thanks of both houses of Parliament, and the sum of 500,000^. was voted to pur- chase for him an estate, as a lasting token of the national gratitude. In January, 1815, the Duke of Welhngton was sent to represent the British government at the Congress of Vienna. The diplomatic labors of this body were sud- denly interrupted by the escape of Napoleon from Elba, and his immediate restoration to the throne of France. A plan of military operations was traced by the duke, and immediately adopted by the allied sovereigns ; a treaty was concluded, by which the great powers stipu- lated the proportion of forces that each should send against Napoleon, and agreed thnt no truce or treaty Hh 362 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. should be made with the common enemy, except by general consent. Four days after the signature of the treaty, the duke proceeded to Belgium, where it was certain that hostilities would be commenced, and be- stowed ail his energies on collecting a force sufficient to meet that which Napoleon was known to have in preparation. Wellington had about 70,000 men, not more than half of whom were British, and his applications to the English government for troops and artillery had not met with the prompt attention necessary at such a crisis. He made Brussels his head-quarters, but as he had to watch a long line of frontier, covered with for- tresses, which enabled Napoleon to hide his move- ments until the moment for decisive action aiTived, it was necessary for the duke to have his forces widely spread, in order to discover by what line the French would advance. The Prussians under Blucher were the only portion of the allies that had yet come to fulfil their engagements ; Napoleon, therefore, resolved to anticipate them, and become the assailant. On the 15th of June, Napoleon crossed the Sambre, and advanced toward Charleroi. So soon as Wellington received positive information of this movement, he sent his orders to the different divisions, and then tranquilly went to a ball, which was given that night, in Brussels, by the Duchess of Richmond. This festivity was de- signed to conceal the near approach of the enemy, so as to prevent any alarm in the Belgian capital, and the artifice perfectly succeeded. About midnight the several officers were warned to go to their respective posts, and they slipped away one by one, without making any bustle or exciting any marked attention. On the morning of the 16th, the British troops were collecting at Quatre Bras, and blucher had concentrated the Prussians upon Sombref, occupying also the villages of St. Amand and Ligny. In the course of the morning Wellington had an inter- view with Blucher at Bry, and it was agreed that the two armies should maintain themselves in positions which would enable them to cooperate and mutually assist each other. Later in the day, Napoleon furiously WELLINGTON. 363 attacked the Prussians at Ligny, while Ney, with equal fuiy, assailed the British position at Quatre Bras. Blucher, after a desperate resistance, was driven from his position, and forced to fall back on Wavre ; but Ney had completely failed at Quatre Bras, notwith- standing his gi-eat superiority of force. The retreat of the Prussians, howeve-r, rendered it necessary that the duke should make a corresponding movement in order to keep open his communications with Blucher, and on the 17th he retired leisurely to the position of Waterloo, which he had previously chosen as a favorable field of battle. The night of the 17th was dreary and tempestuous ; the English army bivouacked on the wet ground, but even this scanty rest and refreshment was requisite to prepare them for the toils of the coming day. Sunday, the 18th of June, dawned on the two armies preparing for battle. Their positions were nearly equal in strength , the English occupied a ridge of high ground in front of the village of Waterloo, having its left strengthened by the farm-house of La Haye Sainte, and the old chateau of Hougoumont to strengthen the right of its centre. At a distance of about fourteen hundred yards, runs the corresponding ridge of La Belle Alliance, of which the French took possession, and the space intervening between these two ridges was the theatre of this memorable conflict. Napoleon's object was to drive the English back on Brussels ; that of Wellington, to hold his ground until he would be joined by the Prussians, when he trusted to become the assailant in his turn. Napoleon believed that Grouchy would be able to prevent the Prussians from making any effective movement ; and Wellington, not aware of the dreadful roads through which they had to make their way, expected them to arrive in sufficient time to take an active share in the battle. The battle consisted of almost uniform repetitions of the same movements. Under the fire of his artillery, Napoleon sent heavy masses of infantry, and columns of brilliant cavalry, to force a passage through the British lines ; the English drove back the infantry, and, when charged by the cavalry, formed themselves into 364 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. hollow squares which could not be broken, and mowed down the charging squadrons with musketry. While thus disheartened, the French cavalry were charged by the heavy brigade of the English Life-guards, and were literally rode down, both horse and man. Several hundreds of French were forced headlong over a sort of quarry, or gi-avel-pit, where they rolled, a confused mass of men and horses, exposed to a fire which soon put an end to their struggles. The fight was thus maintained until seven o'clock in the evening, when the sound of cannon on his right announced to Napoleon that the Prussians were approaching to take a share in the combat. He had still in resei-ve about 15,000 of his Imperial Guards, and with these he resolved to make a desperate effort to decide the doubtful fortunes of the day. His guards advanced with gi-eat enthusiasm, but the English had not left the repeated repulses of the enemy unimproved ; the right wing had been brought round from a convex to a concave form, and its guns raked the French column as it debouched on the causeway. Though their ardor was obviously damped, the Imperial Guards steadily advanced until they at- tained the ridge, where our guards lay on the ground, to avoid the furious fire of the French artillery. When they approached, Wellington gave the decisive words, " Up, guards, and at them !" The British regiments had deployed into line four deep ; they gave three cheers, and rushed forward with the bayonet; but the Imperialists, aheady shattered by the terrible fire poured upon them in advance, broke, and fell into confusion. Wellington perceived the disorder of the retreat, and also the advance of the Prussians on the right flank of the enemy. He immediately commanded the British troops to form line, and assume the offen- sive. They formed four deep, and, supported by their cavalry and artillery, rushed down the slopes, and up the corresponding bank, driving before them the flying French, whose confusion became each moment more irretrievable. Blucher and Wellington met at a farm- house near La Belle Alliance, and the pursuit of the broken enemy was entrusted to the Prussians. They continued the chase by moonlight; and the French WELLINGTON. 365 army was so thoroughly broken and dispersed that it could never again be reunited. Having refieshed his exhausted troops, the Duke of Wellington advanced on Paris, where his approach put an end to the intrigues which were formed to prevent the restoration of Louis XVIII. He also interposed to save the Parisians from the vengeance which Blucher was disposed to exact ; but he did not interfere to prevent the execution of Ney and Labedoyere, — a circumstance which has exposed him to much unmerited censure ; for no grounds can be assigned which would have ren- dered such an interference justifiable, and much less any that make the duke's neutrality worthy of condem- nation. With the end of the war the duke's military career terminated ; but he has since been called to serve his country as a statesman, and has held the highest place in the councils of the realm. While, however, he is happily spared to benefit that empire by his wisdom which he had protected by his valor, it would not be expedient to enter on a review of his political life. His name is associated with some of the greatest legislative and social changes that this generation has witnessed, and some of them are yet too recent to be discussed with impartiality. THE END. 8 ? !! J v\^58j® I