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enjoy them in. The usual period is spent in preparing to live: and unless nature prolongs the time, fortune bestows her excess of favours in vain.
The Conqueror of the East having nothing more to expect from the one, has all his court to make to the other. Auxiety for wealth gives place to anxiety for life; and wisely recollecting that the sea is no respecter of persons, resolves on taking his route to Europe by land. Little beings move unseen, or unobserved, but he engrosses whole kingdoms in his march, and is gazed at like a comet. The burning desart, the pathless mountains, and the fertile valleys, are in their turns explored and passed over. No material accident distresses his progress, and England once more receives the spoiler.
How sweet is rest to the weary traveller ; the retrospect heightens the enjoyment; and if the future prospect be serene, the days of ease and happiness are arrived. An uninquiring observer might have been inclined to consider Lord Clive, under all these agreeable circumstances : One, whose every care was over; and who had nothing to do but sit down and say, Soul take thine ease, thou hast goods laid up in store for many years.
The reception which he met with on his second arrival, was in every instance equal, and in many, it exceeded, the honours of ihe first. It is the peculiar temper of the English to applaud before they think. Generous of their praise, they frequently bestow it unworthily: but when once the truth arrives, the torrent stops, and rushes back again with the same violence. * Scarcely had the echo of applause
He, (General Burgoyne) therefore moved. “ That it appears to this House, that Robert Lord Clive, baron of Plassey, about the time of deposing Surajah Dowla, Nabob of Bengal, and establishing Meer Jaffier in his room, did, through the influence of the power with which he was intrusted, as member of the Select Committee in India, and Commander in Chief of the British forces there, obtain aud possess himself of two lacks and 80,000 rupees, as member of the Select Committee; a further sum of two lacks of rupees, as Commander in Chief'; a further sum of 16 lacks of rupees, or more, under the denomination of private donations; which sums, amounting together to 20 lacks and 80,000 rupees, were of the value, in English money, of £ 234,000, and that in so doing, the said Robert Lord Clive abused the powers with which he was entrusted, to the evil example of the servants of the public.”
* Lord Clive, in the defence which he made in the House of Comceased upon the ear, than the rude tongue of censure took up the tale. The newspapers, fatal enemies to ill-gotten wealth, began to buz a general suspicion of his conduct, and the inquisitive public soon refined it into particulars. Every post gave a stab to fame--a wound to his peace,--and a nail to his coffin. Like spectres from the grave they haunted him in every company, and whispered murder in his ear. A life chequered with uncommon varieties is seldom a long one. Action and care will in time wear down the strongest frame, but guilt and melancholy are poisons of quick despatch.
Say, cool deliberate reflection, was the prize, though abstracted from the guilt, worthy of the pains ? Ah! no. Fatigued with victory he sat down to rest, and while he was recovering breath, he lost it. A conqueror more fatal than bimself beset him, and revenged the injuries done to India.
As a cure for avarice and ambition let us take a view of him in his latter years.—Ha! what gloomy being wanders yonder? How visibly is the melancholy heart delineated on his countenance. He mourns no common care—his very steps are timed to sorrow--he trembles with a kind of mental palsy. Perhaps it is some broken-hearted parent, some
mons, against the charges mentioned in the preceding note, very positively insists on his innocence, and very pathetically lainents his situation; and after informing he House of the thanks wbich he had some years before received, for the saine actions which they are now endeavouring to censure him for, he says,
“ After such certificates as these, Sir, am I to be brought here like a criminal, and the very best parts of my conduct construed into crimes against the state? Is this the reward that is now held out to persons who have performed such important services to their country? If it is, Sir, the future consequences that will attend the execution of any important trust, committed to the persons who have the care of it, will be fatal indeed ; and I am sure the noble Lord npon the treasury bench, whose great humanity and abilities I revere, would never have consented to the resolutions that passed the other night, if he had thought on the dreadful consequences that would attend them. Sir, I cannot say that I either sit or rest easy, when I find that all I have in the world is likely to be confiscated, and that no one will take my security for a shilling. These, Sir, are dreadful apprehensions to remain under, and I cannot look upon myself but as a bankrupt. I have not any thing left which I can call my own, except my paternal fortune, of £500 per annum, and which has been in the family for ages past. But upoa this I am content to live, and perhaps I shall find more real content of mind and happiness than in the trembling afHuence of an unsettled fortune. But, Sir, I must make one more observation, that, if the
David mourning for his Absalom, or some Heraclitus weeping for the world. I hear him mutter something about wealth-Perhaps he is poor, and hath not where witbal to hide his head. Some debtor started from his sleepless pillow, to ruminate on poverty, and ponder on the horrors of a jail. Poor man! I'll to him and relieve bim. Ha! 'tis Lord Clive himself! Bless me what a change! He makes I see for yonder cypress shade, a fit scene for melancholy hearts! I'll watch him there and listen to his story.
LORD CLIVE. “ Can I but suffer when a beggar pities me. Ere while I heard a ragged wretch, who every mark of poverty had on, say to a sooty sweep, Ah, poor Lord Clive! while he the negro-coloured vagrant, more mercifully cruel, curst me in my hearing.
“ There was a time when fortune, like a yielding mistress, courted me with smiles-She never waited to be told my wishes, but studied to discover them, and seemed not happy to herself, but when she had soine favour to bestow. Ah! little did I think the fair enchantress would desert me thus; and after lavishing her smiles upon me, turn my reproacher, and publish me in folio to the world. Volumes of morality are dull and spiritless compared to me. Lord Clive is himself a treatise upon vanity, printed on a golden type. The most unlettered clown writes explanatory notes thereon, and reads them to his children. Yet I could bear these insults could I but bear myself. A strange unwelcome something hangs about me. In company I seem no company at all.The festive board appears to me a stage, the crimson coloured port resembles blood-each glass is strangely metamorphosed to a man in armour, and every bowl appears a
definition of the Hon. Gentleman (General Burgoyne,) and of this House, is that the state, as expressed in these resolutions, is, quo ad hoc, the Company, then, Sir, every farthing that I enjoy is granted to me. But to be called, after sixteen years have elapsed, to account for my conduct in this manner, and after an uninterrupted enjoyment of my property, to be questioned and considered as obtaining it unwarrantably, is hard indeed ! and a treatment I should not think the British Senate capable of. But if it should be the case, I have a conscious injjocence within me, that tells me my conduct is irreproachable. Frangas, non flectes. They may take from me what I have; they may, as they think, make me poor, but I will be happy! I mean not this as iny defence. My defence will be made at the bar ; and, before I sit down, I have one request to make to the House that when they come to decide upon my honour They will not forget THEIR OWN.
Nabob. The joyous toast is like the sound of murder, and the loud laugh are groans of dying men. The scenes of India are all rehearsed, and no one sees the tragedy but myself. Ab! I discover things which are not, and hear unuttered sounds.
“O peace, thou sweet companion of the calm and innocent! Whither art thou fled ? here take my gold, and all the world calls mine, and come thou in exchange. O thou, thou noisy sweep, who mixeth thy food with soot and relish it, who canst descend from lofty heights and walk the humble earth again, without repining at the change, come teach that mystery to me. Or thou, thou ragged wandering beggar, who, when thou canst not beg successfully, will pilfer from the hound, and eat the dirty morsel sweetly; be thou Lord Clive, and I will beg, so I may laugh like thee.
“ Could I unlearn what I've already learned-unact what I've already acted-or would some sacred power convey me back to youth and innocence, I'd act another part-I'd keep within the vale of humble life, nor wish for what the world
But since this cannot be
* Sometime before his death, he became very melancholy-subject to strange imaginations and was found dead at last.
Cupid and Hymen. An Original. As the little amorous deity was one day winging his way over a village in Arcadia, he was drawn by the sweet sound of the pipe and tabor, to descend and see what was the matter. The gods themselves are sometimes ravished with the simplicity of mortals. The groves of Arcadia were once the country seats of the celestials, where they relaxed from the business of the skies, and partook of the diversions of the villagers. Cupid being descended, was charmed with the lovely appearance of the place. Every thing he saw had an air of pleasantness. Every shepherd was in his holyday dress, and every shepherdess was decorated with a profusion of flowers. The sound of labour was not heard among them.
The little cottages had a peaceable look, and were almost hidden with arbours of jessamine and myrtle. The way to the temple was strewed with flowers, and enclosed with a number of garlands and green arches. “Surely," quoth Cupid, “here is a festival to day. I'll hasten and inquire the matter."
So saying, he concealed his bow and quiver, and took a turn through the village: As he approached a building distinguished from all the rest by the elegance of its appearance, he heard a sweet confusion of voices mingled with instruments of music. “What is the matter,” said Cupid to a swain who was sitting under a sycamore by the way-side, and humming a very melancholy tune," why are you not at the feast, and why are you so sad ?” “ I sit here, answered the swain, to see a sight, and a sad sight'twill be.” “What is it?” said Cupid, “come tell me, for perhaps I can help you." "I was once happier than a king,” replied the swain," and was envied by all the shepherds of the place, but now every thing is dark and gloomy because”-“Because what?” said Cupid—“Because I am robbed of my Ruralinda; Gothic, the lord of the manor, bath stolen her from me, and this is to be the nuptial day.” “ A wedding,” quoth Cupid, “and I know nothing of it, you must be mistaken shepherd, “ I keep a register of marriages, and no such thing hath come to my knowledge; 'tis no wedding, I assure you, if I am not consulted about it.” “ The lord of the manor," continued the shepherd,