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paring them with the pope, or contrasting them with the apostles. I do not think their riches will be diminish10 ed; but if they were to be so--is not the question directly put to them, which will they prefer? their flock or their riches? for which did Christ die, or the apostles suffer martyrdom, or Paul preach, or Luther protest? was it for the tithe of flax, or the tithe of barren 15 land, or the tithe of potatoes, or the tithe-proctor, or the tithe-farmer, or the tithe-pig? Your riches are secure; but if they were impaired by your acts of benevolence, does our religion depend on your riches? On such a principle your Saviour should have accepted of the king20 doms of the earth, and their glory, and have capitulated with the devil for the propagation of the faith. Never was a great principle rendered prevalent by power or riches;--low and artificial means are resorted to for fulfilling the little views of men, their love of power, their 25 avarice, or ambition; but to apply to the great designs of God such wretched auxiliaries, is to forget his divinity and to deny his omnipotence. What! does the word come more powerfully from the dignitary in purple and fine linen than it came from the poor apostle with noth30 ing but the spirit of the Lord on his lips, and the glory of God standing on his right hand? What! my lords, not cultivate barren land; not encourage the manufactures of your country; not relieve the poor of your flock, if the church is to be at any expense thereby !-Where 35 shall we find this principle? not in the Bible. I have adverted to the sacred writings without criticism, I allow, but not without devotion-there is not in any part of them such a sentiment--not in the purity of Christ nor the poverty of the apostles, nor the prophecy of Isai40 ah, nor the patience of Job, nor the harp of David, nor the wisdom of Solomon! No, my lords, on this subject your Bible is against you—the precepts and practice of the primitive church are against you the great words increase and multiply-the axiom of philosophy, that 45 nature does nothing in vain--the productive principle that formed the system, and defends it against the ambition and encroachments of its own elements-the re

productive principle which continues the system, and which makes vegetation support life, and life adminis50 ter back again to vegetation; taking from the grave its sterile quality, and making death itself propagate to life and succession--the plenitude of things, and the majesty of nature, through all her organs, manifest against such a sentiment; this blind fatality of error, which, 55 under pretence of defending the wealth of the priesthood, checks the growth of mankind, arrests his industry, and makes the sterility of the planet a part of its religion. Grattan.

75.

Speech on the Greek Revolution.

It may, in the next place, be asked, perhaps, supposing all this to be true, what can we do? Are we to go to war? Are we to interfere in the Greek cause, or any other European cause ? Are we to endanger our 5 pacific relations ?—No, certainly not. What, then, the question recurs, remains for us? If we will not endanger our own peace, if we will neither furnish armies, nor navies, to the cause which we think the just one, what is there within our power?

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Sir, this reasoning mistakes the age. The time has been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies, were the principal reliances even in the best cause. But, happily for mankind, there has come a great change in this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, 15 in proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced; and the public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining an ascendency over mere brutal force. It is already able to oppose the most formidable obstruction to the progress of injustice and oppression; and, as it 20 grows more intelligent and more intense, it will be more and more formidable. It may be silenced by military power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irrepressible, and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary warfare. It is that impassible, unextinguishable enemy 25 of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like Milton's angels,

"Vital in every part,

Cannot, but by annihilating, die."

Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for 30 power to talk either of triumphs or of repose.

No mat

ter what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrendered, what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun. In the history of the year that has passed by us, and in the instance of unhappy Spain, we have seen the vanity 35 of all triumphs, in a cause which violates the general sense of justice of the civilized world. It is nothing, that the troops of France have passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz; it is nothing that an unhappy and prostrate nation has fallen before them; it is nothing that 40 arrests, and confiscation, and execution, sweep away the little remnant of national resistance. There is an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these triumphs. It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of his ovations; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, 45 though silent, is yet indignant; it shows him that the sceptre of his victory is a barren sceptre; that it shall confer neither joy nor honour, but shall moulder to dry ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it pierces his ear with the cry of injured justice, it denoun50 ces against him the indignation of an enlightened and civilized age; it turns to bitterness the cup of his rejoicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs to the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind. Webster.

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That writer would deserve the fame of a public benefactor, who could exhibit the character of HAMILTON, with the truth and force, that all who intimately knew him, conceived it: his example would then take the 5 same ascendant, as his talents. The portrait alone, however exquisitely finished, could not inspire genius where it is not; but if the world should again have possession of so rare a gift, it might awaken it when it sleeps, as by a spark from heaven's own altar; for sure

10 ly if there is any thing like divinity in man, it is his admiration of virtue.

But who alive can exhibit this portrait? If our age, on that supposition, more fruitful than any other, had produced two HAMILTONS, one of them might have de15 picted the other. To delineate genius, one must feel its power: HAMILTON, and he alone, with all its inspirations, could have transfused its whole fervid soul into the picture, and swelled its lineaments into life. The writer's mind, expanding with its own peculiar enthusi20 asm, and glowing with kindred fires, would then have stretched to the dimensions of his subject.

Such is the infirmity of human nature, it is very difficult for a man, who is greatly the superiour of his associates, to preserve their friendship without abatement; 25 yet, though he could not possibly conceal his superiori ty, he was so little inclined to display it, he was so much at ease in his possession, that no jealousy or envy chilled his bosom, when his friends obtained praise. He was indeed so entirely the friend of his friends, so mag30 nanimous, so superiour, or, more properly, so insensible to all exclusive selfishness of spirit; so frank, so ardent, yet so little overbearing, so much trusted, admired, beloved, almost adored, that his power over their affections was entire, and lasted through his life. We do not be35 lieve, that he left any worthy man his foe, who had ever been his friend.

Men of the most elevated minds, have not always the readiest discernment of character. Perhaps he was sometimes too sudden and too lavish in bestowing his 40 confidence; his manly spirit disdaining artifice, suspected none. But while the power of his friends over him seemed to have no limits, and really had none, in respect to those things which were of a nature to be yielded, no man, not the Roman Cato himself, was more 45 inflexible on every point that touched, or seemed to touch integrity and honour. With him, it was not enough to be unsuspected; his bosom would have glowed like a furnace, at his own whispers of reproach. Mere purity would have seemed to him below praise;

50 and such were his habits, and such his nature, that the pecuniary temptations which many others can only with great exertion and self-denial resist, had no attractions for him. He was very far from obstinate; yet, as his friends assailed his opinions with less profound thought 55 than he had devoted to them, they were seldom shaken by discussion. He defended them, however, with as much mildness as force, and evinced, that if he did not yield, it was not for want of gentleness or modesty.

The tears that flow on this fond recital will never dry 60 up. My heart, penetrated with the remembrance of the man, grows liquid as I write, and I could pour it out like water. I could weep too for my country, which, mournful as it is, does not know the half of its loss. It deeply laments, when it turns its eyes back, 65 and sees what HAMILTON was; but my soul stiffens with despair, when I think what HAMILTON would have been. Ames.

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With the jacobins of France, marriage is in effect annihilated; children are encouraged to cut the throats of their parents; mothers are taught that tenderness is no part of their character; and to demonstrate their at5 tachment to their party, that they ought to make no scruple to rake with their bloody hands in the bowels of those who come from their own.

To all this let us join the practice of cannibalism, with which, in the proper terms, and with the greatest 10 truth, their several factions accuse each other. By cannibalism, I mean their devouring, as a nutriment of their ferocity, some part of the bodies of those they have murdered their drinking the blood of their victims, and forcing the victims themselves to drink the blood of their 15 kindred, slaughtered before their faces. By cannibalism, I mean also to signify all their nameless, unmanly, and abominable insults on the bodies of those they slaughter.

As to those whom they suffer to die a natural death,

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