Page images
PDF
EPUB

or whose wife had locked him up, hears the tale of luxury with envy, and at last inquires what was their petition!' Of the petition nothing is remembered by the narrator, but that it spoke much of fears and apprehensions, and something very alarming, and that he is sure it is against the government: the other is convinced that it must be right, and wishes he had been there, for he loves wine and venison, and is resolved, as long as he lives, to be against the government.

The petition is then handed from town to town, and from house to house; and wherever it comes, the inhabitants flock together, that they may see that which must be sent to the King. Names are easily collected. One man signs, because he hates the Papists; another, because he has vowed destruction to the turnpikes: one, because it will vex the parson; another, because he owes his landlord nothing: one, because he is rich; another, because he is poor: one to show that he is not afraid, and another to show that he can write.'

From the Falkland's Islands.'

Such is the loss of Spain: let us now compute the profit of Britain. We have, by obtaining a disavowal of Buccarelli's expedition and a restitution of our settlement, maintained the honour of the crown, and the superiority of our influence. Beyond this, what have we acquired? What, but a bleak and gloomy solitude, an island thrown aside from human use, stormy in winter, and barren in summer; an

island, which not the southern savages have dignified with habitation; where a garrison must be kept in a state, that contemplates with envy the exiles of Siberia; of which the expense will be perpetual, and the use only occasional; and which, if Fortune smile upon our labours, may become a nest of smugglers in peace, and in war the refuge of future Buccaniers! To all this the government has now given ample attestation, for the island has been since abandoned; and perhaps was kept only to quiet clamors with an intention, not then wholly concealed, of quitting it in a short time.

'This is the country, of which we have now possession, and of which a numerous party pretends to wish that we had murthered thousands for the titular sovereignty! To charge any men with such madness, approaches to an accusation defeated by it's own incredibility. As they have been long accumulating falsehoods, it is possible that they are now only adding another to the heap, and that they do not mean all that they profess. But of this faction what evil may not be credited? They have hitherto shown no virtue, and very little wit beyond that mischievous cunning, for which it is held by Hale that children may be hanged.

As war is the last of remedies, cuncta priùs tentanda, all lawful expedients must be used to avoid it. As war is the extremity of evil, it is surely the duty of those, whose station intrusts them with the care of nations, to avert it from their charge. There are diseases of animal nature, which nothing but amputation can remove: so there may, by the depravation of human passions, be sometimes a gangrene collective life, for which fire and the sword are the

in

necessary remedies. But in what can skill or caution be better shown, than in preventing such dreadful operations, while there is yet room for gentler methods?

It is wonderful, with what coolness and indifference the greater part of mankind see war commenced. Those that hear of it at a distance, or read of it in books, but have never presented it's evils to their minds, consider it as little more than a splendid game, a proclamation, an army, a battle, and a triumph. Some, indeed, must perish in the most successful field; but they die upon the bed of honour,

Resign their lives amidst the joys of conquest,

And fill'd with England's glory smile in death.

The life of a modern soldier is ill represented by heroic fiction. War has means of destruction more formidable than the cannon and the sword. Of the thousands and ten thousands, that perished in our late contests with France and Spain, a very small part ever felt the stroke of an enemy: the rest languished in tents and ships, amidst damps and putrefaction; pale, torpid, spiritless, and helpless; gasping and groaning, unpitied among men made obdurate by long continuance of hopeless misery ; and were at last whelmed in pits, or heaved into the ocean, without notice and without remembrance. By incommodious encampments and unwholesome stations, where courage is useless and enterprise impracticable, fleets are silently dispeopled, and armies sluggishly melted away.

Thus is a people gradually exhausted, for the most part with little effect. The wars of civilised

nations make very slow changes in the system of empire. The public perceives scarcely any alteration, but an increase of debt; and the few individuals, who are benefited, are not supposed to have the clearest right to their advantages. If he that shared the danger enjoyed the profit, and after bleeding in the battle grew rich by the victory, he might show his gains without envy. But at the conclusion of a ten years' war, how are we recompensed for the death of multitudes and the expense of millions, by contemplating the sudden glories of paymasters and agents, contractors and commissaries, whose equipages shine like meteors and whose palaces rise like exhalations?

'These are the men, who without virtue, labour, or hazard are growing rich as their country is impoverished: they rejoice, when obstinacy or ambition adds another year to slaughter and devastation; and laugh from their desks at bravery and science, while they are adding figure to figure and cypher to cypher, hoping for a new contract from a new ar mament, and computing the profits of a siege or a tempest.'

Γνωθι σεαυτον.

(Post Lexicon Anglicum auctum et emendatum.)

Lexicon ad finem longo luctamine tandem
Scaliger ut duxit, tenuis pertæsus opellæ,
Vile indignatus studium nugasque molestas
Ingemit exosus, scribendaque Lexica mandat
Damnatis, pœnam pro pœnis omnibuş unam.

Ille quidem rectè, sublimis, doctus, et acer,
Quem decuit majora sequi majoribus aptum;

Qui veterum modò facta ducum, modo carmina vatum,
Gesserat et quicquid Virtus, Sapientia quicquid
Dixerat, imperiique vices cælique meatus
Ingentemque animo sæclorum volveret orbem.

Fallimur exemplis: temerè sibi turba scholarum
Ima tuas credit permitti, Scaliger, iras.
Quisque suum norit modulum: tibi, prime virorum,
Ut studiis sperem aut ausim par esse querelis,
Non mihi sorte datum; lenti seu sanguinis obsint
Frigora, seu nimiùm longo jacuisse veterno,
Sive mihi mentem dederit Natura minorem.
Te steri functum curâ, vocumque salebris
Tutò eluctatum, spatiis Sapientia dia
Excipit æthereis, Ars omnis plaudit amicè,
Linguarumque omni terrâ discordia concors
Multiplici reducem circumsonat ore magistrum.

Me, pensi immunis cùm jam mihi reddor, inertis Desidiæ sors dura manet, graviorque labore Tristis et atra quies, et tardæ tædia vitæ. Nascuntur curis curæ, vexatque dolorum Importuna cohors, vacuæ mala somnia mentis. Nunc clamosa juvant nocturnæ gaudia mensæ, Nunc loca sola placent: frustra te Somne recumbens Alme voco, impatiens noctis metuensque diei. Omnia percurro trepidus, circùm omnia lustro, Si quà usquam pateat melioris semita vitæ ; Nec quid agam invenio meditatus grandia: cogor Notior ipse mihi fieri, incultumque fateri Pectus, et ingenium vano se robore jactans. Ingenium, nisi materiem doctrina ministrat, Cessat inops rerum; ut torpet, si marmoris absit Copia, Phidiaci fæcunda potentia cœli.

Quicquid agam, quòcunque feror, conatibus obstat Res angusta domi et macræ penuria mentis. Non rationis opes animus, nunc parta recensens, Conspicit aggestas, et se miratur in illis; Nec sibi de gazâ præsens quod postulat usus Summus adesse jubet celsâ dominator ab arce: Non, operum serie seriem dum computat ævi,

« PreviousContinue »