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realized, if at all, at such a distance of time as to wear out the patience of ordinary placemen. Sheridan, however, has unquestionably become a portion of the collective wisdom of the empire.

command, and he has the skill to combine them in grand and irresistible effect. To have heard him speak is now a distinction among men. Yet, doubt it not, he delivered many comparatively dull The first thing he has to do on taking speeches. No man is uniformly great. his seat in the House of Commons, is Still, always with a great occasion, Sheto answer a petition against his election, ridan rises to the level of its requireinvolving charges of bribery and cor- ments; by force of genius and incredible ruption. Some of "the lowest and most industry in the acquisition of informaunprincipled voters" had been seduced tion, he invariably equals, and ofteninto raising the accusation. The young times exceeds the expectations of those member successfully defended himself who most intimately knew him, and and his constituency against the ca- who entertained the highest opinion of lumny; and "wished that some ade- his powers. Burke declared his speech quate penalties should be inflicted on in the House of Commons, on the conthose who traduced and stigmatized so duct of Warren Hastings in India, to be respectable a body of men." The peti-" the most astonishing burst of elotion, as almost uniformly happens in quence, argument and wit united, of such cases, was instantly withdrawn; which there was any record or tradition." Sheridan was confirmed in his seat. He Fox said of it, that "all he ever heard, was listened to with great interest and all he ever read, when compared with attention by the House, his literary re-it, dwindled into nothing, and vanished putation having prepared for him a like vapour before the sun." And even willing and favourable reception. It Pitt, Sheridan's most uniform and deappears, however, that even those who termined adversary, acknowledged that were disposed to judge favourably of" the speech surpassed all the eloquence his capabilities, confidently concluded of ancient or modern times, and posthat "Nature never intended him for an orator." A certain indistinctness of speech, and considerable agitation and hesitancy of manner, impressed the majority that "his mental powers appeared to be very superior to his physical qualifications." On concluding his speech he went into the gallery where Woodfall was reporting, and with evident anxiety tried to obtain from him an opinion as to the probability of his ultimate success. Woodfall candidly advised him to abide by his previous pursuits, for that now he was certainly out of his element, and had little chance of ever becoming properly adapted to it. Sheridan, nevertheless, entertained a contrary belief; "I know that it is in me," said he, "and therefore out it shall come!"

sessed everything that genius or art could furnish to agitate and control the human mind." The testimony of such judges is of the highest, most unquestionable character, and leaves nothing in the way of further eulogy to be adduced.

Sheridan's parliamentary career, imperfectly delineated in his published speeches, extends over a space of upwards of thirty years, an eventful and exciting period of British history. During the whole of this time, his influence over the public affairs was manifest and considerable, though not, perhaps, so great as some of his admirers seem to fancy. In political insight he was probably inferior to none of the prominent men of the time; he saw into the future quite as far, and Accordingly, after many efforts, and knew as intimately as any what the much diligent study and preparation, commotions and distractions of the age it did at length "come out," with rather might signify; many a keen glance did astonishing effect. He rises into bound- he dart beyond him, many a wise warnless celebrity; becomes the most bril- ing vehemently deliver; no one had liant and attractive orator in England. a more clear or comprehensive underHe "has it in him," and ever as oppor-standing of the political doctrines which tunities occur he makes it visible that he espoused, or adhered more consisthere is a man of consummate gifts and cultivation. Hearing him, men learn to comprehend the magnificent powers of human speech. All the splendours of a rich composite eloquence are at his

ently to their consequences. Yet with all this, Sheridan had nothing of statesman-like ability. The man was not greater than his time; could in no case have successfully directed the tendencies

And so the years roll on,

downwards

of the time. To speak of Sheridan as ward peacefulness, and all true effort ranking among great statesmen is absurd. and activity, go finally to wreck. He had no one quality, beyond his gift Meanwhile, wonderful to say, his exof speaking, out of the many by which traordinary talent for raising money is a statesman must be distinguished. He prosperously exercised whenever an is a splendid rhetorician, an accom-emergency arises. Drury Lane Theatre plished parliamentary debater; ser- has to be rebuilt; all that was required viceable and illustrious in that capa- for the purpose was a sum of £150,000, city, but if lifted into statesmanship" which was raised with the utmost facimust have been utterly insignificant. lity." Sheridan is at this time at the The man that could not direct the zenith of his reputation. His popularity, finances and concerns of a theatre, had his talents, his exertions in behalf of the clearly but an indifferent capacity for public interests, are the theme of geneguiding the affairs and destiny of a ral eulogy. Drury Lane Theatre, with nation. Beyond the distinction here much effort, and after “unforeseen diffiassigned him, Sheridan, in truth, has culties, fresh expenses, and vexatious neither qualification nor pretension. negotiations," is successfully rebuiltAn adroit, brilliant, party politician is though destined soon to be disastrously all he ever was or aimed to be. burnt down. All along Sheridan conIt should not be overlooked that, side trives to live like a man possessing a by side with Sheridan's public and poli- large income. It appears he usually tical life, there was all the time going kept up three establishments, and " his on some sort of private and domestic style of living was such as became a one; which, if we could realize, would, man mingling in the richer class of sorather than the other, be highly satis-ciety, and enjoying all that luxury can factory. A family is gradually growing give." up around him, sprightly and clever boys and girls, to whom their father's to 1792. This year Sheridan has to reputation cannot be altogether un- follow to the grave his beautiful and known. "Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan at affectionate wife, whom the then Bishop home," were an agreeable and inte- of Norwich was wont to call a "connecting resting chapter, had we the materials link between woman and angel;" and for writing it. We are able to perceive, whom Wilkes declared to be "the fairest however, that Sheridan spends a great flower that ever grew in nature's garden." deal of his time utterly away from home. She died at the age of thirty-eight, of He is invited largely into all kinds of pulmonary disease. A beautiful distinguished and select society; hisquette of the first magnitude," but long fascinating manners and polished wit since sobered down into a loving, helpmake his presence everywhere courted ful, and judicious wife. Deep was the and acceptable. He is a diner-out of grief of Sheridan, when they bore her the first lustre. By his brilliant con- away to the " still-dwelling;" sad and versation, his boundless vivacity, and irreparable the loss which he sustained. frank sincerity of disposition, he dazzles From that moment a blight fell upon and delights all manner of high and him-a secret immeasurable sorrow illustrious men and women, and is, in sapped his remaining strength, and gave his turn, dazzled and delighted. His a pallor to his noble countenance which princely liberality of taste leads him to no occasional after gaiety could dispel. furnish expensive entertainments in his "I have seen him," says Kelly, "night own house; for which, unhappily, the after night sit and cry like a child, embarrassed treasury of Drury Lane while I sang to him, at his desire, a must yield supplies. As this grows pathetic little song of mine— more and more inadequate, obliging tradesmen cheerfully contribute; for a time, at least, are nowise urgent about I never beheld more poignant grief their bills. Thus in a mingled element than Sheridan felt for the loss of his of splendour and of shiftiness, a gay and beloved wife." The lightsome careless pleasant life alternates with mean vexa- nature, with its gay heedlessness and tions and restraints; continually de- humour, falls suddenly asunder, and is manding some new sacrifice of temper or dissolved in mournful tears; like a bright of principle. An utterly incongruous- April day, descending into night amid existence; wherein manly dignity, in. | showers of transient gloom.

They bore her to a grassy grave.

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For transient are the pains of every human sorrow, however profound its recollections. Nature reneweth day by day the broken spirits of whomsoever she ordains to live. Sheridan is recalled by his public duties back into

the world, where he speedily mingles as before in the exciting strifes, in the tumult and animosities of the life that is going on. Rest, thou buried one! and thy name shall soon be as though it were forgotten.*

RICHARD WINTER HAMILTON, L.L.D., D.D.

GREAT intellectual and moral powers must ever command homage in this world. Intellectual power alone, when not associated and directed by a moral purpose, cannot fail to charm and influence its admirers. But when a man gifted with rich intellectual endowments, consecrates them to the performance of duty, and the scrupulous fulfilment of the high behests of heaven, we then see human nature in its most attractive aspect; our admiration warms into love, and our love borders on the reverential. Such a man was Dr. Hamilton, whom we are now about to sketch. Unlike the great philosopher of the New World, whose history we shall hereafter trace, Dr. Hamilton was a sectarian. He confined himself to the boundaries of what may be termed evangelical orthodoxy, and dared not launch out into those bold speculations outlined by Emerson. But as a sectarian, and with a faith shaped, squared, and measured, we shall find that he possessed immense attractions, an original mind, and, what is better, a large heart.

RICHARD WINTER HAMILTON was born at Pentonville, London, on the 6th of July, 1794. Of his ancestry it is known only that his grandfather came to London, from Scotland, early in life. This Mr. Hamilton was a member of the Baptist persuasion. He married a Miss Hesketh, one of the company who first joined the Rev. Mr. Wesley, and of whom mention is made by Mr. Wesley in his journal of that time. They had six children, and the Rev. Frederick Hamilton, the father of Richard Hamilton, was one of them. One of Winter Hamilton's uncles, the Rev. Robert Hamilton, D.D., LL.D., F.R.S., died October 8th, 1832, in the eightyfirst year of his age, after he had been

incumbent of the united parishes of St. Olave's, Jewry, and St. Martin's, for thirty-three years. This uncle was kind and generous towards his nephew Winter; and when he died, left him an equal share of his property.

Mrs. Frederick Hamilton, the mother of Winter Hamilton, appears to have been a woman of great beauty, of cultivated intellect, of gentle disposition, and eminently pious. Many of her letters are preserved to this day, and they evince a most loving disposition, and a devoted faith to the orthodox creed. There can be little doubt, in fact it is quite evident, that she did much to mould the character and direct the footsteps of her son. And that son when he became a man, and had attained an eminent position in the church of which he was a member and advocate, frequently alluded in tender and touching accents to the memory of her to whom he owed so much. Though possessing a strong religious faith, her affection for her children bound her soul closely to the world, when on the borders of eternity. A little before her death she wrote to a dear friend in these words: "When I felt a daily decrease of strength-my cough growing worse, and my breath shorter-I could not but think of what all this must lead to, even to the chamber of the grave. I was enabled to hope and to believe that I was entirely in HIS hands who is 'the resurrection and the life; but yet, whenever I for a minute soared upward, I was again drawn down by, as it were, a picture presented to my eye, of my person shrouded in my coffin, and all my dear and very affectionate children weeping around me. Indeed, I think I have never before proved my affection so strong, or my

*The conclusion of this life will appear in our next number.

faith so weak." This beautiful minded woman died when her son Winter, who was the cherished child of the family, was about eleven years old. Though he enjoyed a greater latitude of indulgence than his brothers and sisters, fortunately it did not lead to pride in him, or envy in them. They often gladly saw him taken to enjoy pleasures which they would cheerfully have shared; and they welcomed his return from such visits, that they might listen to his graphic descriptions of the persons and places he had seen during his absence, without any admixture of jealousy. While young, he displayed some of those qualities which especially characterized him in after life. When he was only five years of age, an association of ministers had met at his father's table, and the servant who had waited on them told the children the next day, that one of these ministers had described his poverty and his struggles to support a large family at forty pounds a year, which was all his poor village flock could raise. The children felt it very much, and often talked over what ought to be done for the good man. At last Winter thought of a plan, which he imagined excellent. It was that they should put together all they could call their own, and buy a cheap calf, fully expecting that the little grassplot at the side of his father's house would be sufficient to keep it till in a position to present it to the poor minister. The elder part of the family told him this was impracticable; not only they could not raise money enough, but that they had no place large enough, to rear the calf. Winter was not to be turned so easily from his generous purpose. With the utmost simplicity he proposed that they should buy a little pig, which, he said, could run about the nursery, and sleep under the bed, till large enough to be a valuable gift.

Though this period of his age was so much marked by a generosity of disposition and sprightliness, he did not make any particular progress in the rudiments of education. He had a wise and patient teacher in his mother; but she frequently wept over him for very weariness, and probably from the greater vexation in consequence of the evident talent which he showed in other respects. We mention this so that kind mothers and fathers may not be discouraged when they consider their children back

ward in learning; for many of the greatest ornaments of our race were slow to learn at first. Precocity is no true sign of future greatness. Neither is inaptitude to learn elementary knowledge any guarantee that the future man shall not be eminent for his abilities. We cannot expect children to be philosophers. Rather should we expect them to be buoyant, sportive, and, it may be, inclined to mischief. In Winter's period of childhood there was no lack of that quickness of apprehension which distinguished him through life; nor were there wanting even these indications of that luxuriant imagination which produced such rich flowers and fruits in after years. He had an unbounded flow of animal spirits; and his wit, or as his brothers and sisters always called it, his fun, afforded them perpetual amusement.

When about nine years of age, he was sent to a preparatory school at Hammersmith, near London; after passing about a year there, he was removed to an excellent school conducted by the Rev. J. Petticary, at Newport, Isle of Wight. Here he was superintended by his mother's cousin, the Rev. Robert Winter, who watched over him with constant care. If Winter Hamilton did not in after years become a useful member of society-if not a great and good man, it would have been surprising, as every care and attention was lavished on him by his religious relatives when young. But though breathing such a puritanic atmosphere, his unconquerable love for drollery and mimicry continually manifested itself. He was frequently getting into scrapes of some kind or other on account of his boyish mischief, and though he knew he should not escape punishment, he was never known to deny his faults when questioned, or prevaricate when censured. So completely was his character for truthfulness established in the family, that his parents often said to friends, when he left the room, "There goes a child who, to our knowledge, never told a lie."

From his thirteenth to his sixteenth year, he was at Mill Hill Grammar School, where he made decided progress. The reports of his learning and his conduct were most satisfactory. His religious character was then in the course of formation. Even at that early period he seems to have devoted him

self to God for the work of the ministry. ridian glory; and the late Rev. John He grew up to be a minister almost as Ely, of Leeds, between whom and Dr. a matter of course, as he never expressed Hamilton afterwards existed such a any wish for any other vocation. From tender, vital_and enduring friendship. the time when he used to preach to his When Dr. Hamilton entered Hoxton brothers and sisters, on a box in the College, he was younger than most of nursery, they all considered it a settled the students, and was distinguished by point that Winter was to be a minister. great vivacity and buoyancy of spirits. But this showed more solicitude than As he had great facility in acquiring wisdom on the part of his parents. By knowledge, and had enjoyed greater addedicating a child, before the natural vantage of early education than most of tendency of his mind developed itself, his associates, the studies prescribed in to the important mission of a minister, the classes to which he belonged made was not wise, as he might thereby be but a slight demand on his time and made a very mechanical and lifeless efforts, and left him much leisure for preacher, when, perhaps, if left to him- indulging his own taste and inclination. self, with careful guidance, he might Without any intensity of application, otherwise become a great man. But in it was easy for him to prepare for the the case before us it proved to be suc- ordinary examinations in the lectures cessful, as the bent of Winter Hamilton's delivered, and on the books required to disposition, and the aspirations of his be read. The Rev. Dr. Burder, one heart, were naturally inclined in the of the tutors of the College, appredirection marked out by paternal wishes. ciated the talents of the young divine. Before he was sixteen years of age, he When speaking of his productions, signed a "Covenant," in which he dedi- at this time, the Rev. Doctor says: cated himself to "his Father in heaven"" They were distinguished by an exuand to the services of His church. We extract from the "Covenant" a sentence or two, to indicate the condition of his mind at that time. He says, "This day do I, with the utmost solemnity, surrender myself unto Thee. I renounce all former lusts that have dominion over me; and I consecrate unto thee all that I am, and all that I have-the faculties of my mind, and the members of my body, my worldly possessions, my time, and my influence over others, to be all used entirely for thy glory, and resolutely employed in obedience to thy commands, as long as thou continuest me in life, with an ardent desire and humble resolution, to continue them through all the ages of eternity. Ever holding myself in an attentive posture to observe the first intimation of thy will, and ready to spring forward with zeal and joy to the immediate execution of it."

Very soon after, he was admitted, at the age of sixteen, as a student for the ministry amongst the Independents, at Hoxton College. And it rarely happens that one more qualified by mental capacity and spiritual longings, for a sacred calling, enters on such a course. Among the associates and friends of Mr. Hamilton at Hoxton, was the late Rev. Thomas Spencer, of Liverpool, whose career opened so prosperously, but whose useful and brilliant life was quenched before it had reached its me

berance and even wildness of fancy which greatly needed discipline and training. The excrescences of his imagination required no ordinary degree of judicious pruning. It became my duty, as one of his tutors, to point out these deviations from good taste with an unsparing freedom. With this unwelcome duty, however, I found no difficulty in uniting ample commendation of budding and unfolding excellences." No doubt Dr. Burder's warning was very judicious, and well it should be, when it attempted to prune the imagination of a young student. There is nothing more delicate and difficult than such a task. And, generally, it is much better for tutors to leave the imagination to take care of itself. Dr. Hamilton, throughout his useful life, was particularly distinguished by a rich imagination; and did he not possess it, there is but little evidence to show that he would have risen above the barren mediocrity of the vast majority of his brethren in the ministry. A vivid imagination is frequently a promise of future eminence; and though for a time it may be wild and luxuriant, as the understanding gets enlightened and the judgment consolidated, that creative faculty, which may be called the handmaid of genius, finds its proper orbit. It is much better for the fledgling to try to fly and fall, than not to make the trial.

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