when, as his attendants were conveying him to his bed, he sunk down, and, after a short struggle, passed quietly and without a groan to eternal rest, in that mercy which he had just declared he had long sought with unfeigned humiliation, and to which he looked with unfeigned hope.

Of his talents and acquirements in general it is unnecessary to speak. They were long the glory of his country, and the admiration of Europe: they might have been (had it so consisted with the inscrutable counsels of Divine Providence) the salvation of both. If not the most accomplished orator, yet the most eloquent man of his age; perhaps second to none in any age; he had still more wisdom than eloquence. He diligently collected it from the wise of all times: but what he had so obtained, he enriched from the vast treasury of his own observation; and his intellect active, vigorous, comprehensive, trained in the discipline of true philosophy, to whatever subject he applied it, penetrated at once through the surface into the essential forms of things.

With a fancy singularly vivid, he, least of all men in his time, indulged in splendid theories. With more ample materials of every kind than any of his contemporaries, he was the least confident in his own skill to innovate. A statesman of the most enlarged views, in all his policy he was strictly practical, and in his practice he always regarded with holy reverence the institutions and manners derived from our ancestors. It seemed as if he had been endowed with such transcendent powers, and informed with such

extensive knowledge, only to bear the more striking testimony, in these days of rash presumption, how much the greatest mind is singly inferior to the accumulated efforts of innumerable minds in the long flow of centuries.

His private conversation had the same tincture with his public eloquence. He sometimes adorned and dignified it with philosophy, but he never lost the charm of natural ease. There was no subject so trivial, which he did not transiently illuminate with the brilliancy of his imagination. In writing, in speaking, in the senate, or round the table, it was easy to trace the operations of the same genius.

To the protestant religion, as by law established, he was attached from sincere conviction; nor was his a barren belief, without influence on his moral conduct. He was rigid in the system of duties by which he regulated his own actions; liberal in construing those of all other men; warm, but placable; resenting more offences committed against those who were dear to him, than against himself; vehement and indignant only where he thought public justice insulted; compassionate to private distress; lenient even to suffering guilt. As a friend he was perhaps too partial to those whom he esteemed; overrating every little merit, overlooking all their defects; indefatigable in serving them; straining in their favour whatever influence he possessed; and, for their sakes more than his own, regretting that during so long a political life he had so seldom bore any share in power, which he considered only as an instrument of more diffusive

good. In his domestic relations he was worthy (and more than worthy he could not be) of the eminent felicity which for many years he enjoyed; a husband of exemplary tenderness and fidelity; a father fond to excess; the most affectionate of brothers; the kindest master; and, on his part, he has been often heard to declare that, in the most anxious moments of his public life, every care vanished when he entered his own roof.

One who long and intimately knew him, to divert his own sorrow, has paid this very inadequate tribute to his memory. Nothing which relates to such a man can be uninteresting or uninstructive to the public, to whom he truly belonged. Few, indeed, whom the divine goodness has largely gifted, are capable of profiting by the imitation of his genius and learning; but all mankind may grow better by the study of his virtues.

DR. F. LAURENCE.

There is a man who has a great command of words, esteemed by the vulgar a firstrate orator, simply from his celerity of speaking. Whatever his followers may say will not deter me from speaking what I think of the eloquence of Burke. Athens was the parent and patroness of science ; but an Athenian audience would have listened with delight to Burke; would have admired his inventive copiousness of diction; would have thought the goddess Suada herself enthroned upon his lips.

There were some amongst the Romans who considered a dry style and poverty of sentiment

as attic, provided the language was polished, courtly, and elegant; and who disdained the lofty, magnificent, copious style of oratory. But many, who prided themselves on their taste, their learning, and their judgment, were ignorant of the gradations, the inequalities, and variety of attic eloquence. Cicero himself was by some insolently termed diffuse, Asiatic, and tumid. In these days also there are not wanting those who insinuate that Burke is destitute both of energy and modulation. I am proud to speak a different language. I do not hesitate to aver, that such affected sentiments proceed from an inability to bear the lustre of his eloquence. He who imitates Burke may be assured, that his model is marked by attic excellence; he who hears him with delight may be satisfied that his own progress in literature is far from contemptible.

That man requires no studied panegyric as to his moral character, whose manners are conciliating and agreeable, and whose actions are directed by the rules of virtue. But the rectitude and integrity of Burke have been so obviously conspicuous, that, defying all scrutiny into his own, he may be justified in exacting a rigorous account of another's conduct. DR. PARR*.

In his dedication of the first book of Bellandenus to Burke, Dr. Parr describes him as "a man most peculiarly distinguished by learning alike eloquent, and elegant, and extensive; by those nobler energies of mind, acute to invent, prompt to explain, fruitful to adorn, who has constantly and consistently deserved from science, which meed alone he himself has found to defy every vicissitude of place and time; from the senate, which, when menaced with danger, consi

THE RIGHT HON. HENRY DUNDAS,

AFTERWARDS LORD MELVILLE.

BEHOLD now the mighty, the enormous Thrasybulus! whose countenance and appearance affords amplest matter for ridicule. If you wish to know the quality of his eloquence, it is marked by no elegance or ornament, it is rude and offensive; always maimed, confused, and obscure. To this add a prompt volubility of tongue, and impudence not soon or easily abashed; with a tone of voice, which, although I have heard, I shall find difficult to describe: it is by nature rustic and dissonant: it sometimes menaces with suffocation; at others it is harsh, as if passed over a file. In the constant exercise of his unwearied sides, it knows no pause; it beats the air, and wounds the ear; till broken, and as it were cut in two, it terminates in a scream. Cicero was of opinion that a harsh and rustic modulation is a manifest imperfection, notwithstanding there are who take pains to acquire it. But I never knew any one, Thrasybulus alone excepted, who having a tone of voice most remarkably offensive, did not either endeavour to avoid it altogether, or at least try to soften its effect by ingenious artifice or constant industry.

They who have seen the distortions of Thrasy

dered him its pride and his support; lastly, from this our country (to its most affectionate citizens, alas! not always generous or just), all that can be conferred of honour or of gratitude."