genuine colours, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatuation? Can parliament be so dead to their dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them measures, my lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt? But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world; now, none so poor to do her reverence! The people whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against you, supplied with every military store, have their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, by your inveterate enemy; and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honours the English troops than I do; I know their virtues and their valour; I know they can achieve any thing but impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of English America is an impossibility. You can not, my lords, you can not conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot; your attempts will be forever vain and impotent-doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms: Never, never, never! But, my lords, who is the man, that, in addition to the disgraces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage; to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods; to delegate to the mer. ciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. But, my lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of morality; for it is perfectly allowable,' says Lord Suffolk, 'to use all means which God and nature have put into our hands.' I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in this house or in this country. My lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your attention; but I can not repress my indignation -I feel myself impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon as members of this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity! That God and nature hath put into our hands! What ideas of God and nature that noble lord may entertain I know not; but I know that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled victims! Such notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honour. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn; upon the judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honour of your lordships to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country to vindicate the national character. I invoke the Genius of the Constitution. From the tapestry that adorns these walls, the immortal ancestor of this noble lord frowns with indignation at the disgrace of his country. In vain did he defend the liberty and establish the religion of Britain against the tyranny of Rome, if these worse than Popish cruelties and inquisitorial practices are endured

among us. To send forth the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood! against whom? your Protestant brethren! to lay waste their country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and name by the aid and instrumentality of these horrible hellhounds of war! Spain can no longer boast pre-eminence in barbarity. She armed herself with blood-hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruthless, loose these dogs of war against our countrymen in America, endeared to us by every tie that can sanctify humanity. I solemnly call upon your lordships, and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon this infamous procedure the indelible stigma of the public abhorrence. More particularly I call upon the holy prelates of our religion to do away this iniquity; let them perform a lustration, to purify the country from this deep and deadly sin. My lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and indignation were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving vent to my eternal abhorrence of such enormous and preposterous principles.

The last ten years of Lord Chatham's life were attended with great bodily infirmity; and his final appearance in the House of Lords is thus touchingly described by Belsham the historian :—

The mind feels interested in the minutest circumstances relating to the last day of the public life of this renowned statesman and patriot. He was dressed in a rich suit of black velvet, with a full wig, and covered up to the knees in flannel. On his arrival in the house, he refreshed himself in the lord chancellor's room, where he staid till prayers were over, and till he was informed that business was going to begin. He was then led into the house by his son and son-in-law, Mr. William Pitt and Lord Viscount Mahon, all the lords standing up out of respect, and making a lane for him to pass to the earl's bench, he bowing very gracefully to them as he proceeded. He looked pale and much emaciated, but his eye retained all its native fire; which, joined to his general deportment, and the attention of the house, formed a spectacle very striking and impressive.

When the Duke of Richmond had sat down, Lord Chatham rose, and began by lamenting that his bodily infirmities had so long and at so important a crisis prevented his attendance on the duties of parliament. He declared that he had made an effort almost beyond the powers of his constitution to come down to the house on this day, perhaps the last time he should ever be able to enter its walls, to express the indignation he felt at the idea which he understood was gone forth of yielding up the sovereignty of America. My lords,' continued 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 noble monarchy. Pressed down as I am by the load of infirmity, I am little able to assist my country, in this most perilous conjuncture; but, my lords, while I have sense and memory I never will consent to tarnish the lustre of this nation by an ignominious surrender of its rights and fairest possessions. Shall a people, so lately the terror of the world, now fall prostrate before the house of Bourbon? It is impossible! In God's name, if it is absolutely necessary to declare either for peace or war, and if peace can not be preserved with honour, why is not war commenced without hesitation? I am not, I confess, well informed of the resources of this kingdom, but I trust it has still sufficient to maintain its just rights, though I know them not. Any state, my lords, is better than despair. Let us at least make one effort, and if we must fall, let us fall like men.'

The Duke of Richmond, in reply, declared himself to be 'totally ignorant of the means by which we were to resist with success the combination of America with the house of Bourbon. He urged the noble lord to point out any possible mode, if he were able to do it, of making the Americans renounce that independence of which

they were in possession. His Grace added, that if he could not, no man could; and if it was not in his power to change his opinion on the noble lord's authority, unsupported by any reasons but a recital of the calamities arising from a state of things not in the power of this country now to alter.'

Lord Chatham, who had appeared greatly moved during the reply, made an eager effort to rise at the conclusion of it, as if labouring with some great idea, and impatient to give full scope to his feelings; but before he could utter a word, pressing his hand on his bosom, he fell down suddenly in a convulsive fit. The Duke of Cumberland, Lord Temple, and other lords near him, caught him in their arms. The house was immediately cleared; and his lordship being carried into an adjoining apartment, the debate was adjourned. Medical assistance being obtained, his lordship in some degree recovered, and was conveyed to his favourite villa of Hayes in Kent, where, after lingering some few weeks, he expired May 11, 1778, in the 70th year of his age.'

The Earl of Chatham's literary labors, independent of his public position, were chiefly confined to two series of letters, the one addressed to his nephew, Lord Camelford, and the other to various contemporaries, and not published till many years after the noble author's death. The former contains much excellent advice for regulating the conduct and intercourse of life, a sincere admiration of classical learning, and great kindliness of domestic feeling and affection. By the latter, which was not published till 1841, some light is thrown on cotemporary history and public events; but its principal value is of a reflex nature, derived from our interest in all that relates to the lofty and commanding intellect which so long stamped the destinies of Europe.

A review of the life, genius, and public career of Burke, the most eloquent and imaginative of English political writers, and the most philosophical of her statesmen, with a brief notice of The Letters of Junius, will close our remarks on English literature.

EDMUND BURKE was born in Dublin, on the first of January, 1730. His father was a respectable attorney, and afforded his son the best of educational advantages. His classical studies were pursued at an academy in the vicinity of Dublin, and conducted by Abraham Shackleton, a quaker of talents and learning. At this school, according to his own statement, Burke acquired the most valuable of his mental habits; and his gratitude to the memory of his early instructor ceased only with his life. In the fifteenth year of his age he entered Trinity College, Dublin, and, in 1749, received his bachelor's degree. Having now the world before him and his own way to make through it, he repaired to London, and with the usual ardor of youth, entered the Middle Temple as a student of law. He soon found, however, that the law had no attractions for him, and he therefore resolved to turn his attention to literature and politics. After laboring for some time on the periodicals of the day, he produced his first conspicuous work, in the form of a parody on the style and manner of Lord Bolingbroke. The title of this performance is a Vindication of Natural Society, and in it the para

doxical reasoning of the noble skeptic is pushed to a ridiculous extreme, and its absurdity very happily exposed.

In 1757, Burke published an original and very important work under the title of A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. The boldness of the author's views, clothed in language at once strong and perspicuous, soon attracted public attention, and prepared the way for his introduction to the society of Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith, and other eminent men of the day. Though thus elevated in his associations, he had still many difficulties to struggle with, and was compelled to pass much of his time compiling for booksellers. He suggested to Dodsley, the plan of an Annual Register, which that spirited publisher adopted, Burke furnishing the whole of the original matter. He continued for several years to write the historical portion of this valuable compilation. In 1771 he accompanied the Earl of Halifax to Ireland as one of his secretaries; and four years afterwards he was fairly lanched into public life, as a Whig politician, by becoming private secretary to the Marquis of Rockingham, then appointed first lord of the treasury. A seat in parliament next followed, and Burke soon became a leading speaker in the House of Commons. His first seat was for Wendover, and he was afterwards member for Bristol, and Malton. His speeches on American affairs were among his most vigorous and felicitous appearances; his most important duty was the part he took in the trial of Warren Hastings, and his opposition to the regency bill o Mr. Pitt.

Stormier times were, however, at hand: the French Revolution was then, to use one of his own metaphors, 'blackening the horizon,' and he early predicted the course it would take. He strenuously warned his countrymen against the dangerous influence of French principles, and published his memorable Reflections on the French Revolution. This produced a rupture between him and his Whig friends, Fox in particular; but with characteristic ardor Burke went on denouncing the doctrines of the revolution, and published his Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs; his Letters to a Noble Lord; and his Letters on the Proposals for Peace with the Regicide Direc tory of France. The splendor of these compositions, the various knowledge which they display, the rich imagery with which they abound, and the spirit of philosophical reflection which pervades them all, stamp them among the first literary productions of their time. Judged as political treatises, they may, in some instances, be considered as exaggerated in their tone and manner; the imagination of the orator transported him beyond the bounds of sober prudence and correct taste; but in all his wanderings, genius, wisdom and eloquence equally appear, and such a flood of rich illustration had never before been poured on questions of state policy and government.

When the revolution broke out, Burke's sagacity enabled him to foresee the dreadful consequences which it would entail upon France, and the world; and his enthusiastic temperament led him to state his impressions in language sometimes overcharged and almost bombastic; sometimes full of

prophetic fire, and always with an energy and exuberance of fancy in which, among philosophical politicians, he was unrivalled. According to one of his contemporaries he labored to form his character in eloquence, in policy, in ethics, and in philosophy, upon the model of Cicero, and it must be confessed that he greatly surpassed the original.

In 1794, Burke retired from parliament; and having previously been enabled, through the friendship of the Marquis of Rockingham, to purchase an estate near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire, thither he now repaired, and there spent, exclusively, his few remaining years. In 1795, he was rewarded with an annual pension of three thousand pounds, from the civil list, and it was in contemplation to elevate him to the peerage, but the death of his only son rendered him indifferent, if not averse, to such a distinction. The force and energy of his mind, and the creative richness of his imagination, continued with him to the last. His Letter to a Noble Lord on his Pension, his Letters on a Regicide Peace, and his Observations on the Conduct of the Minority, all written after his retirement, bear no traces of decaying vigor, though produced when he had passed the age of sixty-seven. The keen interest with which he regarded passing events, particularly the great drama then being acted in France, is still manifest in these works; with general observations and reflections, the profundity and universal application of which strike the mind with irresistible force. Burke was at once a poet, an orator, a philosopher, and a practical statesman; and his knowledge, his industry, and his perseverance, were as remarkable as his genius. The protracted and brilliant career of this great man was terminated on the ninth of July, 1797, and he was buried in the church at Beaconsfield, where a plain marble tablet still indicates the place of his re pose.

It remains for us only to illustrate the genius and style of this truly great writer, by suitable selections from his works. For this purpose we present the following brief extracts :

THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL COMPARED.

On closing this general view of beauty, it naturally occurs that we should compare it with the sublime; and, in this comparison, there appears a remarkable contrast; for sublime objects are vast in their dimensions, beautiful ones comparatively small: beauty should be smooth and polished; the great, rugged and negligent: beauty should shun the right line, yet deviate from it insensibly; the great. in many cases, loves the right line, and when it deviates, it often makes a strong deviation: beauty should not be obscure; the great ought to be dark and gloomy: beauty should be light and delicate; the great ought to be solid, and even massive. They are, indeed, ideas of a very different nature, one being founded on pain, the other on pleasure; and, however they may vary afterward from the direct nature of their causes, yet these causes keep up an eternal distinction between them, a distinction never to be forgotten by any whose business it is to affect the passions. In the infinite variety of natural combinations, we must expect to find the qualities of things the most remote imaginable from each other united in the same object. We must expect, also, to find combinations of the same kind in the works of art. But when we consider