fufe, The wholefome forrows of the tragic mufe; The following lines were to have Who hopes, from fabled mifery, t' inbeen fpoken on the night Mifs Gough made her firft appearance at the Private Theatre, but the indifpofition of the gentleman who was to have repeated them, prevented that circumstance from taking place. Alas! for genuine, undiffembled woe," Might bid the flattering cordial tribute flow, For the hath that within, which paf-S feth fhew. Domeftic forrows, in an early hour, Mark'd the young victim of misfor tune's pow'r. Yet while it ftampt the gloomy tyrant's fway, Drew forth thofe modeft virtues into day, Whofe tributes, sooth a hapless parent's age, And act Euphrafia-more than on the stage. Maturer time, maturer anguish brought, Anguifh that baffles words, and maddens thought! Superior genius, whets affliction's dart, More keen its polish'd arrows pierce the heart! Yet the fweet rofe, which rudeft blafts affail, T the earl of Lauderdale, I ought to John Baptifte Rouffeau, the poet, was cenfure of citizen Briffot or of his friend the fon of a cobler; and when his honeft parent waited at the door of the theatre, to embrace his fon on the fuccefs of his firft piece, the inhuman po et repulfed his venerable father with infult and contempt. Akenfide ever confidered his lameness as an infupportable misfortune, fince it continually reminded him of his origin, having been occafioned by the fall of a cleaver from one of his father's blocks, a refpectable butcher. Milton delighted in contemplating his own perfon; and the engraver not having reached our fub lime bard's ideal grace,' he has pointed his indignation in four iambics. Among the complaints of Pope, is that of the pictur'd fhape. Even the ftrong minded Johnfon would not be painted blinking Sam. Mr. Bofwell tells us, that Goldsmith attempted to fhow his agility to be fuperior to the dancing of an ape, whofe praife had occafioned him a fit of jealoufy, but he failed in imitating his rival. 'I COULD hardly flatter myself with the hope, that fo very early in the feafon I fhould have to acknowledge obligations to the duke of Bedford and to the earl of Landerdale. Thefe noble perfons have loft no time in conferring upon me that fort of honour, which it is alone within their competence, and which it is certainly moft congenial to their nature and their man mers to beftow. Why will they not let me remain in obfcurity and inaction? Are they apprehenfive, that if an atom of me remains, the fect has fomething to fear? Muft I be annihilated, left, like old John Zifca's, my fkin might be made into a drum, to animate Europe to eternal battle againft a tyranny that threatens to overwhelm all Europe, and all the human race? In one thing I can excufe the duke of Bedford for his attack upon me and my mortuary penfion. He cannot readily comprehend the transaction he condemns. What I have obtained was the fruit of no bargain; the production of no intrigue; the refult of no compromife; the effect of no folicitation. The first fuggeftion of it never came from me mediately or immediately, to his majefty or any of his minifters. It was long known that the inftant my engagements would permit it, and be fore the heaviest of all calamities had for ever condemned me to obfcurity and forrow, I had refolved on a total retreat. I had executed that defign. I was entirely out of the way of ferving or of hurting any ftatefman, or any party, when the minifters fo generouf'To be ill-fpoken of, in whatever ly and fo nobly carried into effect the langage they fpeak, by the zealots of, fpontaneous bounty of the crown. Both the new fect in philofophy and politics defcriptions have acted as became them. of which these noble perfons think fo charitably, and of which others think fo justly, to me is no matter of unea finels or furprise. To have incurred the difpleasure of the duke of Orleans or the duke of Bedford, to fall under the When I could no longer ferve them, the minifters have confidered my fituation. When I could no longer hurt them, the revolationifts have trampled on my infirmity. My gratitude, I truft, is equal to the manner in which the be nefit nefit was conferred. It came to me, indeed, at a time of life, and in a ftate of mind and body, in which no circum. ftance of fortune could afford me any real pleafure. But this was no fault in the royal donor, or in his minifters, who were pleased, in acknowledging the merits of an invalid fervant of the public, to affuage the forrows of a de folate old man. It would ill become me to boast of any thing. It would as ill become me, thus called upon, to depreciate the va lue of a long life, fpent with unexampled toil in the fervice of my country. Since the total body of my fervices, on account of the induftry which was fhewn in them and the fairness of my intentions, have obtained the acceptance of my fovereign, it would be abfurd in me to range myself on the fide of the duke of Bedford and the correfponding fociety; or, as far as in me lies, to permit a difpute on the rate at which the authority appointed by our conftitution to eftimate fuch things, has been pleased to fet them. For whatever I have been, (I am now no more) I put myself on my country. I ought to be allowed a reafonable freedom, because I stand upon my deliverance; and no culprit ought to plead in irons. Even in the utmoft latitude of defenfive liberty, I wish to preferve all poffible decorum. Whate ver it may be in the eyes of these noble perfons themselves, to me their fitua tion calls for the most profound refpect. If I fhould happen to trefpafs a little, which I trust I thall not, let it always be supposed that a confufion of charac ters may produce miftakes; that in the masquerades of the grand carnival of our age, whimfical adventures happen; odd things are faid and pafs off. If I fhould fail a fingle point in the high refpect I owe to thofe illuftrious perfons, I cannot be fuppofed to mean the duke of Bedford and the earl of Lauderdale of the house of peers, but the duke of Bedford and the earl of Lauderdale of Palace-yard, the dukes and arls of Brentford. There they are on he pavement; there they feem to come earer to my humble level; and, virs tually at leaft, to have waved their high privilege.' Mr. Burke then continues, to take a review of his own political life, and to defend the grants made to him. He fays, that his paft exertions were fuch, as no hope of pecuniary compenfation could poffibly reward; that from his majefty he claims no merit at all; every thing towards him has been fa vour and bounty. In fpeaking of the acts introduced by him into parliament, Mr. Burke fays, they coft him infinite pains, from the oppofition he every where met with in his undertaking. The military pay-office was, however, methodized, and 1o was the civil lift establishment. But his reforms were far different from thofe of the prefent day; they were not the fuppreffion of a paltry penfion or emolument, more or lefs; he acted on ftate principles; the great diftem per was in the commonwealth, and he treated it according to the nature of the evil and the object. He knew the people were diffatisfied, and his object was to give them the fub ftance of what he knew they defired. He wished for reformation, and not for change. It was not his love, but his hatred to innovation that produced his plan of reform. It was to prevent that evil, that he propofed the meatures which the duke of Bedford is pleased to recal to his recollection. There was (what he hopes the noble duke will remember in all his operations) a state to preferve, as well as a state to reform. A people was to be gratified, not to be inflamed or misled. He claims not half the credit for what he did, as for what he prevented from being done. His measures were intended to be healing and mediatorial. A complaint was made of too much influence in the houfe of commons; he adduced it in both houfes, and gave his reafons, article by article, for every reduction. He heaved the lead every inch of the way he made. A difpofition to expence was complained of; to that he oppofed not mere retrenchment, but a fyftem of economy. Mr. Burke next enters into a short 198 Extracts of a Letter from the Right Hon. Edmund Burke. March, review of his political life; he did not go into parliament to con his leffon, he did not fet his foot in St. Stephen's chapel before he was prepared and difciplined. He was not, like his grace of Bedford, fwaddled, and rocked, and dandled into a legiflator. He poffeffed none of thofe qualities, nor cultivated the arts that led men to the favour and protection of the great. He was neither a minion nor tool. At every step of his life he was traverfed and oppofed; and at every turnpike he met, he was obliged to fhow his paffport, and to prove his title to the honour of being useful to his country. He had no arts, but manly arts; on them he has flood; and pleafe God, in fpite of the duke of Bedford and the earl of Lauderdale, to the laft gafp he will fland. Mr. Burke then obferves on the duke of Bedford's eftates as follows: The Duke of Bedford conceives that he is obliged to call the attention of the house of peers to his majefty's grant to me, which he confiders as exceffive and out of all bounds. I know not how it has happened, but it really feems, that, while his grace was meditating his well confidered cenfure upon me, he fell into a fort of fleep. Homer nods; and the duke of Bedford may dream; and the dreams (even his golden dreams) are apt to be ill-pieced and incongruoufly put toge ther, his grace preferved his idea of reproach to me, but took the fubject matter from the Crown grants to his own family. This is," the fluff of which his dreams are made." In that way of putting things together his grace is perfectly in the right. The grants to the house of Ruffel were so enormous, as not only to outrage economy, but even to ftagger credibility. The duke of Bedford is the Leviathan among all the creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his unwieldy bulk; he plays and frolics in the ocean of the royal bounty. Huge as he is, and while "he lies floating many a rood" he is ftill a creature. fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the His ribs, his very fpiracles through which he fpouts a torrent of brine againft his origin, and covers me all over with the fprayevery thing of him and about him is from the throne. Is it for him to queftion the difpenfation of the royal fa vour? me, force me reluctantly to compare • Why will his grace, by attacking my little merit with that which obtained from the Crown thofe prodigies of profufe donation by which he tramples on the mediocrity of humble and laborious individuals? I would wil lingly leave him to the Herald's College, which the philofophy of the fans culottes (prouder by far than all the Garters, and Norroys and Clarencieux, and Rouge Dragons that ever pranced in a proceffion of what his friends call ariftocrats and defpots) will abolish with contumely and fcorn. zoners of virtues and arms, differ Thefe hiftorians, recorders, and blahiftorians, who never affign any act of wholly from that other defcription of politicians to a good motive. Thefe gentle hiftorians, on the contrary, dip their pens in nothing but the milk of ther for merit than the preamble of a human kindnefs. They feek no furpatent, or the infeription on a tomb.. With them every man created a peer is firft a hero ready made. judge of every man's capacity for of fice by the offices he has filled; and They the more offices, the more ability. Every general officer with them is a Marlborough; every statesman a Burleigh; every judge a Murray, or York. They, who alive were laughed at or pitied by all their acquaintance, make as good a figure as the beft of them in the pages of Guillim, Edmonfon, and Collins, " known? You may as well think the Is the genius of philofophy not yet garden of the Thuilleries was well protected with the cords of ribbon infultingly ftretched by the national affembly to keep the fovereign canaille from intruding on the retirement of the poor king of the French, as that fuch flimfey cobwebs will ftand betheir natural prey. Deep philofophers tween the favages of the revolution and are no triflers; brave fans culottes are no formalifts. They will no more re gard gard a marquis of Tavistock than an abbot of Tavistock; the lord of Wooburn will not be moré refpectable in their eyes than the prior of Wooburn: they will make no difference between the fuperior of a Covent Garden of nuns and of a Covent Garden of another defcription. They will not care a rufh whether his coat is long or fhort, or whether the colour be purple, or blue and buff. They will not trouble their heads, with what part of his head his hair is cut from; and they will look with equal refpect on a tonfure and a crop. Their only queftion will be that of their Legendre, or fome other of their legislative butchers, how he cuts up ? how he tallows in the cawl or on the kidnies.' Mr. Burke next enters into a long hiftory of the different grants made to the Bedford family, from the time of Henry the eighth, to the time of the laft penfioner of his grace's houfe; and concludes his pamphlet by a moft graceful tribute of affection to the memory of his late fon; and to that of admiral Keppel. Some Account of a new Work, intitled, "A View of Irish Affairs fince the Revolution." By J. Mullala, LL.B. F.R. S.(Lately published in Dublin.) IRELAN fince the revolution of 1688. The benevolence and good nefs of the author's heart, is evidently difplayed in every page of the work; he ufes his beft endeavours to increase the character and reputation of the writers and diftinguished artifts of the day, and he dwells with much pleasure and fatisfaction on their relative merits and pretenfions. He omits no opportunity of exalt ing the national character, by detailing every occurrence and circumftance, which reflect honour on either the hearts or heads of his countrymen. The author expreffes his abhorrence of repub lican and fanatical principles, in ftrong, convincing, and irrefiftible language; and his fentiments in favour of monarchy, are delivered in eloquent and animated terms, and with fuch glowing warmth, as at once evince his love for his fovereign, his affection for his country, and his zeal for the prefervation of the conftitution. When speaking of the French revolution, after commenting with much judgment on the different events that have taken place in that country, he proceeds thus: "Rome vainly affaffinated her dictator, when public virtue was no longer to be found in the fenate, nor among the people. The mountaineers of Switzerland, who threw off the yoke of the houfe of Auftria, and the oppreffed peasants of the Low Countries, who revolted from the tyranny of Philip II. were poor, hardy and martial. The Englifh parliament which oppofed, and ultimately vanquished Charles I. called upon a nation, which, however influeneed by fanaticifm, was unfubdued by luxury, and uncorrupted by venality. Times of effeminacy and refinement have not hitherto been found, to produce a plant, of fo hardy and vigorous a nature as Freedom; and if we are deftined to fee in the hiftory of France an example of this extraordinary comtradition to the sefult of all experience, it will be a ftriking inftance of the infufficiency and fallibility of human wifdom or obfervation.", RELAND has of late confiderably enriched the republic of letters, by feveral ingenious publications; among thefe, Mullalla's View of Ireland, has excited public attention, not only on account of its literary merit, but for the author's diversity of talent, and the great variety of his publications. Mr. Mullalla is a writer poffeffed of a very metaphyfical genius, and his manner of expreffion is neat, elegant and agreeable. His View of Ireland, is a work of real and diftinguished utility: it abounds with beauty of diction, harmony of periods, and acuteness and fingularity of fentiment, accompanied with fidelity, precifion, impartiality, and accuracy. His readers will find in this work, true and just ideas of all the remarkable When treating of the peasantry of tranfactions and events, which have Ireland, and the fituation of the counoccurred in the annals of this country, try, the author remarks, that, "If ma nufactur |