whose favour did not stop at this point. The Duke of Newcastle, we believe, from some kind of interest, took him into his patronage, and Horne Tooke obtained a promise, that he should be appointed one of the Royal Chap- || lains. Fortunately, however, (for such we must consider it) for the interests of religion, Mr. Horne's star here interposed. The nation very shortly became convulsed by party dissentions. The English were too easily persuaded that Lord Bute possessed a dangerous and unconstitutional influence. The Opposition, in Parliament, as anxious at that time as at the present, to adopt any watchword that might rally the popular affections around them, filled the kingdom with exclamations against the Double Cabinet, and the "Influence behind the Throne which controled the Throne itself."-This was the clamour of the day. And the incidental affair of the expulsion of Wilkes, which in ordinary times would have been considered only as an irregularity, and rectified as such, add d fuel to the flames, and rendered the country and metropolis one scene of mob, sedition, and clamour. Mr. Horne immediately embraced the popular cause, and united himself with Wilkes. He visited him at Pa is during his exile, and when he failed in his attempt to obtain his return in Parliament in 1768, Mr. Horne warmly adopted his interests, canvassed the town and country for him, opered houses, solicited votes and subscriptions, and ultimately pro cured him to be returned as the Member for Middlesex. wit, satire, and eloquence, should be accompanied by so little goodness. Junias replied in an angry declamation, and Horne Tooke rejoined in another, as singular for its boldness, as for its splendour and real eloquence. In this answer, Mr. Tooke first announced himself the champion of those principles, which afterwards s-t Europe in a flame. He employed, amongst others, the following pointed sentence, which, however true in the abstract, no honest man should openly produce as a maxim of action:"The King, whose actions justify rebellion to his government, deserves death from the hand of every subject, and should such a time arrive, I should be as free to act as auy."— Now, though there is nothing erroneous in the bare abstract assertion of this principle, yet it is one of those, which tend to weaken the necessary respect and attachment of Sovereigns and subjects. Questions of this nature must never be argued. The matter must speak for itself. Mr. Horne again came forward as the popular advocate in the American War. When the war was commenced by the skirmish at Lexington, Mr. Horne opened a subscription, and advertised in the public papers "for the relief of our unfortunate brethren in Ame rica basely murdered by the British troops.' The Attorney-General very properly prosecuted him for this insult on the Government, and the Jury very justly found him guilty-He was in consequence imprisoned in the King's Bench. Mr. Horne Tooke had now nothing to hope from ecclesiastical preferment. He now, there Shortly afterwards a rupture ensued between these friends. Mr. Tooke did not find Wilkes that violent patriot which he had anticipated. || fore, with the most shameless indecency, if not When Wilkes had obtained what he wanted,|| and was provided for by the liberality of the city who made him their Chamberlain, Wilkes was satisfied and therefore quiet. Horne Tooke lost his firebrand, and he resented it by a public attack and abuse of him. Junius, the writer of the letters under that name, imputed this dispute to its just origin: Horne Tooke wrote a letter in reply to him, which appears in the collection of that work. It is certainly an admirable specimen of his telents, and only excites a regret, that such direct impiety, threw off his clerical gown, aud produced himself as a layman. He resigned the living of Brentford, and entered himself of the Society of the Inner Temple. He kept his Commons regularly, and s.udied the law as a profession. The period at length arrived, in which, having kept the necessary terms, he was to be called to the bar. He put in his claim for this nomination. But the Benchers, with a feeling which did them honour, unanimously rejected him, on the grounds, that having been in Holy Orders they could not countenance such an indecent and impious deser tion. As Mr. Horne Tooke's abilities and his violence were occasionally of great use to the leaders of parties, he was occasionally much courted and highly considered by them. Mr. Fox declared him to be a man of very eminent use to the Commonwealth, and publicly patronised and praised him. Mr. Tooke came forward as a candidate for Westminster in 1790. Mr. Fox and Lord Hood stood at the same time. On this occasion he kept himself in reserve till the very morning of the election, when he published a hand-bill, in which he declared his purpose. Mr. Tooke did not of course succeed, and he presented in consequence a petition to Parliament, in which be treated all parties with the utmost insolence. It was written, however, in his usual style of plain energy and popular eloquence. ders. His seat was in consequence vacated, and a new writ issued. From this period Mr. Tooke has been only known as the friend and political instructor of Sir Francis Burdett, and whatever may be the feeling of the country upon the loss of a man of so much faction, bustle, and celebrity, Sir Francis, we believe, will have occasion sincerely to regret his death. Mr. Horne Tooke died at Wimbledon, about 12 o'clock on Wednesday night, in the 77th year of his age. He had lost the use of his lower extremeties, and his dissolution had been for some time expected. Symptoms of mortification recently appeared, which soon occasioned his death. He was attended by his two daughters, Dr. Pearson, Mr. Cline, and Sir Francis Burdett. Being informed of placid look, that he was fully prepared, and his approaching change, he signified, with a had reason to be grateful for having passed so long and so happy a life, which he would willingly have had extended if it had been possible. He expressed satisfaction at being surrounded in his last moments by those most dear to him; and his confidence in the ex Mr. Tooke next appeared as the advocate of the French Revolution, and he soon attracted the attention of Government upon his movements, and avowed principles. He was arrested as a traitor, and tried by a Specialistence of a Supreme Being, whose final pur Commission. The Jury acquitted the whole of them, but the popular voice, or at least the best part of the people, though they did not approve of the violence of the accusation, felt only one regret, that they had not been all tried for sedition instead of treason. Mr. Took, in the interval of his political pursuits, has published several excellent pieces of literature. His principal work of this kind is the "Diversions of Purley," a most profound and learned Grammatical Treatise. pose was the happiness of his creatures. His facetiousness did not forsake him. When supposed to be in a state of entire insensibility, Sir Francis Burdett mixed up a cordial for him, which his medical friends said it would be to no purpose to administer; but Sir Francis persevered, and raised Mr. Tooke, who opened his eyes, and seeing who offered the draught, took the glass and drank the con tents with eagerness. He had previously ob served, that he should not be like the man at Strasburgh, who, when doomed to death, re Mr. Tooke likewise published an attack on his Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and inquested time to pray, till the patience of the a pamphlet on the Marriage Act, took occasion to speak with his usual contempt of the Royal Family. Lord Camelford, an eccentric character, at Yength procured Mr. Tooke to be returned as Member of Parliament for the Borough of Old Sarum. On Monday, Feb. 16, 1801, he took his seat, and on the 4th of May he was declared ineligible, as having been in Holy Or Magistrates was exhausted, and then, as a last expedient, begged to be permitted to close his life with his favourite amusedient of nine-pins, but who kept bowling on, with an evident determination never to finish the game. He desired that no funeral ceremony should be said over his remains, but that six of the poorest men in the parish should have a guinea each for bearing him to the vault in his garden, SINGULAR AND INTERESTING NARRATIVE. among others," said the Officer, “I was tempted, through curiosity, as much as other motives to visit her, and bargained for some. thing, on condition that she should have my gold watch and seals, should I be killed before the expiration of a fortnight. The time passed on till the last evening, and at that time it was not my turn to do any duty, till two days after. I was making merry upon the subject of M1dame Grim's disappointment, and took a walk out to see the guard march off for a post on the outside of the camp, to which a great deal of importance had been always attached, as it was the only pass by which the Turks could surprise us. It was likewise the only thing of which I was afraid in my bargain; for, during the whole of the week, every detachment IN the wars betwixt the Russians and the Turks there are many barbarities com. mitted by the troops of both nations, and they frequently rather contrive which shall lay a plan for a murder with more ingenuity, than fight with the open bravery and generosity of European warfare. The following story, told and vouched as a truth by a respectable Officer in the service of the Court of Muscovy, is a most remarkable iustance of this.-The two armies, he said, were encamped at no great distance from each other on the banks of the Danube, and there was a deep morass between them, at the approaches to which each of the armies bad piquets. Owing to the length of time the war had been carried on in the country, necessaries were becoming somewhat scarce; and the officers, in particular, hav-which had been sent to watch it, had been ing been deprived of many of these little luxuries which are considered of so much importance in a camp, were very liberal to any one who could provide for them. Amongst others, whom the love of money tempted to engage in this traffic, there was an old woman of a very singular character and appearance. She was accustomed to bargain with the officers, to afford them every thing, at a very inconsiderable price, on condition, that if they were killed before that time, she should have their property. Many of them were extremely willing to make an agreement on these terms, as they had no prospect of fighting for a long while after the time she mentioned; and they were accordingly supplied in every thing they wished. Every one, to the great surprise of their comrades, were killed almost at her day, and almost in such a manner as could excite no suspicion that she had the smallest connection with it; it was perhaps their turn to go out on a foraging party, and they were met by a detachment of the enemy on the same errand, or some dangerous post was given to their charge, on which they were attacked, and their whole party cut to pieces. The thing, however, happened so naturally, that others only cursed the luck of the old witch, and continued to make agreements with her; found in the morning dead, to a man, with their heads cut off; and although the numbers had been almost doubled every time, it had been of no avail; none of them returned alive. I was quite secure, but felt a little of that horror which naturally seizes one on very narrowly escaping a terrible danger, especially as many of the officers, killed on this spot, had fallen just at the time the old kag had predicted. The men were drawn up, and ready to march, and my comrades were telling me I was one of the luckiest fellows in the world; when a message was sent from head quarters for the next officer, in order to assume the command of the guard, as he, whose turn it was, had fallen sick. I was somewhat disconcerted at this; but still, as it was not my turn, I found all safe and to my great satisfaction the guard at last marched off; while I betook myself to my tent for the night. Imagine my consternation, however, when not many minutes after, orders were sent that I should mount and follow the detachment, as their officer had his arm broke by a fall from his horse. There was no alternative, so with as good a grace as might be, I took my place; comforting myself that I. had twice as many men as any of the others, and would at least stand against the Turks, though much superior in numbers, till I could scene of horror as never human being saw, send for assistance. The post was on the side of a deep morass, and only accessible by two ways, one from the Turkish camp, and one backwards, by which we reached it. Nothing seemed to disturb us, and I had entirely forgotten my superstitions; the night was very beautiful, and the dead stillness of every thing around, interrupted only at slow intervals by the neighing of the horses, or the solitary voice of the sentinels, made the scene all solemn. We were in this situation for a considerable time, when, as if it had been thunder, the shouts of men, the clattering of horses, and the sound of arms were, heard close upon our post; and, in a moment, several troops of Turkish bussars, half naked, and brandishing their cime ars in defence, were seen galloping down the descent of the opposite ground. The moon shone full upon them, and their savage appearance, together with their number, which was more than double ours, inade us all tremble. It was impossible to think of retreating that would have ruined us, for we had a post of honour; and to meet such a host of savages was certain death. They were on us in an instant, I had only time to draw up my men with their backs to the morass. The Turks cut and slaughtered at a terrible rate; and though my brave fellows behaved like beroes, they were hewed to pieces in a twinkling; I was left with only one or two, and was most dreadfully wounded; cut across my breast with a sabre, my head bleeding, and almost blind with rage and blood, I was still eager for revenge, and would have had it-the leader of the murderers was just at the point of my sabre, and I going to stab him to the heart, when one of his attendan's perceiving my design, made a furious blow at me; his cimetar, how-out-posts. She had frequently done us the ever, or something else, terrified the horse, which ran backwards, and suuk me into one of the deepest holes in the morass. inevitably gone, and I felt myself suffocated. By some means, however, I caught hold of the grass on the ba..ks, and hung there a few minutes till I rec vered my senses. The Turks Cupposing I was dead, made co more enquiries after me, while I was obliged to witness such a He was like good offices. With respect to her contrivances she confessed a great deal, and that when she witnessed a combat between two, one of which was a friend, she contrived to irritate the other's horse somehow in such a manner that it threw him. The soldiers insisted she should be burnt alive, but the Commander contented himself with nailing her ears to a post for a day, and giving her the kaout. LETTERS ON MYTHOLOGY. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF C. A. DEMOUSTIER. LETTER XXVIII. (Continued from Page 69.) activity of a child. This extreme youth is doubly astonishing when it is compared with his irresistible strength. By what charm, by what address, does a feeble child overturn rea son and triumph over virtue? We call him strong; but the little rogue's strength lies solely in our weakuess. The infancy of Love is cer FROM the earliest times we read of nothing but complaints against the shafts of Love; yet those shafts have caused fewer tears than his wings. Shaded with various tints of purple, azure, and gold, the plumage of his pinions offers a fit emblem of inconstancy. I will not absolutely tell you,tainly proved by his sports, his caprices, and my Emilia, at what age Love fels his wings his lightness; and we may readily imagine begin to grow; a coxcomb will protest to you that the age of prudence can neither suit nor that it was on the very day of his birth; but please him. Nevertheless his figure bears not my opinion is different: he had no wings at the artless character of Innocence: we see his birth, for Innocence is always faithful; he there but the wicked delight of having had none when he began to run alone, for In- done mischief, and the wish of doing more. fancy is never cruel; in that age when sighs Yet in spite of that perfidious physiognomy, are first breathed, he flew not yet, for Constancy the ancients regarded Love as the most beau is the sister of those desires which youth ex- tiful of the court of Olympus. Surely this pands; but at the first kiss which his mouth opinion is well founded; for if the woman that obtained from Beauty, the two points of his I love is the most charming in my eyes, it is wings began to pierce through his white skin: just, that Love himself, should be, for me, another and another kiss! two days were not the most beautiful of the Gods. completed before the whole plumage was unfolded. At last, by his seductive eloquence, he was permitted to snatch at still more, and the next instant he flew away! Soon after this Love was walking one day with his mother in a meadow enamelled with flowers; there calculating upon the rapidity of bis wings, he boasted that he could cut down more flowers in a few minutes, than Venus could gather in many. Venus accepted the challenge, and Cupid flying before her, hastened to gain the wager; but at the moment of couquest, he saw his glory vanish! Ah! how often does not Love allow the victory to escape, while he flies from flower to flower! The nymph Peristera, who accompanied Cypris, assisted her to fill her basket; and Love, in revenge of his discomfiture, changed the nymph into a turtledove. In spite of his bad success, Cupid has still preserved his taste for flying: he has followed in their conquests the uncertain steps of our heroes in gallantry; yet with this difference, that our heroes grow old, and Love always preserves the shape, the freshness, and the No. XXX, Vol. V.-N. S: About his character opinions are strangely divided. One party makes him the author of all good, the other of all evil; and this according to the degree of good or evil they have received at his hands. Pardon me, enchanting Emilia, if I am of the last opinion; you will not allow me to be of the first! Is it not probable that such opposite opinions have given birth to the idea which the ancients adopted, that there were two Loves? According to them, the one presided over voluptuousness, the other over sentiment. Anteros destroyed the flower of pleasure even as it expanded; it is he who formerly made Titon grow old in the arms of Aurora. Eros, his brother, inspires that divine fire which you, Emilia, bave lighted up ia my breast. Pure and sublime must be that fire which virtue kindles and esteem feeds! Its altar is in my heart, and you are the vestal who guards it. As to the birth of Love, it has led to more errors and fantastic systems than his character and attributes. Aristophanes tells us, that Night, embraced by Zephyrus, produced an egg, R |
