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never suffered himself, for a moment, to be diverted from carrying it into effect, even by the most attractive of those objects which formerly possessed all their most powerful influence upon his curiosity and his taste.

'The interest of the money bequeathed to him by his father, was sufficient to enable him, soon after leaving the warehouse of Mr. Newnham, to set out upon his travels to France and Italy, where he met with objects much more congenial to his taste than the hogsheads and the ledgers, which he most cheerfully left behind him in Watling-street. In this tour he either acquired, or strengthened that taste for the fine arts, which induced him, during his earlier travels (for in his latter ones he had more noble objects to attend to), not only to embrace with eagerness every opportunity of contemplating with the eye of an ardent, if not of an enthusiastic admirer, the most finished specimen of the magic skill of their ablest professors, in ancient and in modern times, but, as far as his comparatively limited means would allow, of becoming himself the possessor of some of the productions of their creative genius. It must have been during these travels that he obtained those paintings of the foreign masters, and other works of art, collected upon the Continent, with which he afterwards embellished his favourite seat at Cardington; for when he had once entered upon the execution of his great scheme of universal benevolence, it so completely absorbed all the energies of his mind that he

How long he continued absent from his native country is uncertain, though it was most probable not more than a year or two. Soon after his return, the delicate state of his health induced him to take lodgings at Stoke Newington, where he lived a life of leisure, though not of idleness, spending his time in the manner in which a man of fortune, whose religious principles and natural inclination alike prevented his plunging into any of the fashionable dissipations of the day, may be supposed to spend it. Some considerable portion of his leisure hours he there devoted to the improvement of his mind, and engaged, amongst other pursuits, in the study of some of the less abstruse branches of natural philosophy, and of the theory of medicine; of which he acquired sufficient knowledge to be of the most essential service to him in his future travels, upon those errands of mercy, which exposed him, in so peculiar a manner, to the danger of infection from contagious diseases. From the example of his parents, and the care bestowed upon his education, he had early imbibed those principles of piety, which never forsook him during the whole course of his active and most useful life. From principle, from habit, and from education, he was a dissenter; as it respects church discipline, an independent-in doctrine, a moderate Calvinist. The congregation with which he first associated in church fellowship was that of the independent denomination, then under the pastoral care of the Rev. Meredith Townsend, now under that of the Rev. Thomas Mitchell, formerly of Leicester. Of this church he was regularly admitted a member, but at what precise period of life I have not been able to ascertain; the earlier records of the proceedings of the church still flourishing there, if any such were at that time kept, having been mislaid or destroyed; and notwithstanding his subsequent residence in distant parts of the country, he seems never to have dissolved the connexion. Whilst regularly worship.


years, take great pleasure in relating, as an instance of his young master's punctuality and goodness of disposition, that he never failed to be at the long buttressed wall, which separated the garden from the road, just as the baker's cart was going past, when he would purchase a loaf, throw it over the wall, and, on entering the garden, good humouredly say, "Harry, look among the cabbages, you will find something for your family."-To some readers (says the anonymous author of the life of Mr. Howard, upon whose authority this early proof of his kindness to his inferiors, and consideration for the wants of the industrious poor, is here inserted) this anecdote may appear trifling: others will be pleased with the first traces of youthful benevolence in a character, which, at a more advanced period of life, became the admiration of the world. It is for the latter description of persons alone, I would add, that these memoirs are written.

induced, from a grateful recollection of her kindness, contrasted with the utter want of it in his former residence, to make her an offer of his hand in marriage, though she was twice his age, extremely sickly, and very much his inferior in point of for tune. Against this unexpected proposal the lady made many remonstrances, prin

ping with this congregation, he set on foot a subscription for the purchase of a house for the residence of the minister, to which he himself generously contributed upwards of fifty pounds. But his liberality was not confined to those to whom he was bound by the tie of Christian fellowship, in this religious association. During the period of his life in which he resided at Stoke New-cipally upon the ground of the great disparity in their ages; but Mr. Howard being firm to his purpose, the union took place, it is believed, in the year 1752, hẹ being then in about the twenty-fifth year of his age, and his bride in her fifty-second. Upon this occasion he behaved with a liberality which seems to have been inherent in his nature, by settling the whole of his wife's little independence upon her sister.

The marriage thus singularly contracted, was productive of mutual satisfaction to the parties who entered into it. Mrs. Howard was a woman of excellent character, amiable in her disposition, sincere in her piety, endowed with a good mental capacity, and forward in exercising its powers in every

word and work. Her husband, whilst she lived, uniformly expressed himself happy in the choice he had made; and when, between two and three years after their marriage, the connexion was dissolved by her death, he was a sincere mourner for the loss he had sustained in her removal. She was buried in a vault, in the churchyard of St. Mary's, Whitechapel; where Mr. Howard caused a handsome tomb-stone to be erected to her memory, bearing the following simple, but appropriate inscription:

ington, he gave away a very considerable portion of his income in deeds of charity to those who appealed to his benevolence, or whom his ever active philanthropy sought out as fit objects of his bounty;-remembering, as he did, in the distribution of all his alms, the words of the Lord Jesus, how that he said "it is more blessed to give 'than to receive."

His medical attendants considering his constitution much inclinable to the consumptive, put him upon a very rigorous 'dietetic regimen, which is said by one of his biographers to have "laid the foundation of that extraordinary abstemiousness and indifference to the gratifications of the palate which ever after so much distin-good 'guished him." He was also, about this time, a frequent visitant at Bristol hot-wells, and made several excursions to different parts of the kingdom for the benefit of his health, which was then suffering under the continued depression of a species of nervous fever, and of a general weakness of the whole system. But notwithstanding these precautions, he was attacked with a severe 'fit of illness, whilst lodging in the house of Mrs. Sarah Loidore, a widow lady of small independent property, residing in Church-street, Newington, to whose apartments he had removed in consequence of not meeting with the attention he thought he had a right to expect from the person beneath whose roof he had taken up his abode, as a lodger, on his first coming to live in this village. Whilst here, he experienced, on the part of his landlady, so many marks of kind attention during his sickness, that, upon his recovery, he was


Here lies the Body
Wife of JOHN HOWARD, Esquire, of
Stoke Newington,

In the County of Middlesex,

. Who died the 10th of November, 1755,
Aged 54,

In hopes of a joyful Resurrection,
Thro' the merits of JESUS CHRIST.

(To be continued.)

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THE first place in the admiration of mankind has been uniformly assigned to illustrious warriors. The traditions and poetry of uncivilized nations elevate them far above the standard of humanity; and, in periods of the highest culture, they are usually honoured more than other men. It has been attempted particularly in our age, to repress this feeling, but without any material effect; and it would be a most alarming symptom of the times, had the attempt succeeded. A nation, which meets great services with envy or even lukewarmness, has undergone an alarming change in its character, or, at least, has no right to calculate upon the duration of its power. It is at the same time evident that no community is secure against the visitations of war; and, until the political millennium arrive, when, of course, ambition and violence are to have an end, the man, who is able to excite and direct the energies of his country is entitled to a very high place in her estimation. It is the abuse of great talents for war, by which humanity is outraged, and has filled the world with desolation. But the misapplication of genius of every kind has always produced great crimes: and are great powers of mind, because they may be turned to bad purposes, to be considered as rather pernicious than useful? Such an inference will have the assent of very few; and, indeed, the highest veneration is due to those talents for war, by which the glory of a country is raised, and its security confirmed. No system of policy, however enlarged and humane, can have a permanent character, when it is liable to be disturbed from abroad; and a perfect pacific system would have the splendour and frailty of a palace of ice, which melts under the fierce sun of invasion. We are far from advocating war as preferable to peace; but what we insist upon is this, that, without skill in the former, there is no security for repose. As long as aggression is possible, and governments are ambitious, the best interests


of a state-its wealth, honour, freedom, and tranquillity, are at the mercy of every ambitious and powerful neighbour, unless it cultivate the military art, and confer eminent rewards on such as excel in it. It would be a most pernicious error to try to undervalue the species of talent necessary to national defence; and the more a people are rich and well governed, the higher they ought to rate an art, by which the advan tages of their situation may be protected against external violence. A meretricious humanity has been working itself into consequence in our time; which will account for the horror, its followers affect to feel against war, however just or unavoidable; whilst they appear to be utterly insensible to the long train of misery and disgrace that might arise from a timid and inglorious course of policy.

The choice of war or peace does not depend upon any community. Its repose is generally affected by the character of a neighbouring government; and it has no other means of averting the effects of injustice or envy, but by being always prepared to meet and retaliate an aggression. The more it abounds in wealth, the more it provokes rapacity; and even its freedom may be a ground of quarrel. Should it combine with these advantages a want of proficiency in the science of war, it would incur an additional risk of invasion. It is well known that there are perilous emergencies, with which courage alone, or even the highest patriotism, is not competent to cope. Even martial institutions are not in every instance a sufficient protection; and it is genius alone, or the phenomenon of a great general, that can save the state from the unspeakable calamities of conquest. Rome, when her love of country, courage, and fame in war were at their highest point of elevation, ran great risk of having her name expunged from the list of nations, because she could not oppose to the Carthaginian leader one of as consummate ability. Had Scipio, who changed the fortunes of the war, appeared at its commencement, what

a series of calamities might his country have avoided. During that long contest, and the disorders of a war at home, were sown the germs of those civil commotions, which at last proved fatal to the liberties and morals of that illustrious commonwealth. Sparta, though her institutions were eminently martial, sank for ever under the genius of the mighty Theban. In our own time the great military states of the Continent have been overrun by the French with the rapidity and desolation of a torrent; because they had no general capable of contending with Buonaparte, France triumphed, as long as her hero was unrivalled: at last Wellington, like Scipio, turned the tide of invasion.

tives. The latter rescued their countries from the greatest danger to which they had been ever exposed; and, chiefly by the force of their personal character. Upon the death of Marcellus at Nola, and of General Moore at Corunna, almost every hope of successfully opposing the enemy was extinguished. They both signalized themselves by the deliverance of the Spanish Peninsula, previously to the great events which terminated the long and obstinate conflict.

We cannot conceive a more base or pernicious attempt than that, which has been recently gaining ground, of undervaluing the services and abilities of those extraordinary men, who have rescued their country from imminent danger, and given its name a higher place in the scroll of fame. The storm, which convulsed the world, is now hushed; but the elements are not extinguished; and who can presume to say, that we shall not again want the powerful mind and arm, that assuaged its fury. To check this spirit, we shall occasionally allude to such military occurrences, as constitute a memorable epoch in history, as well as to the generals who had most influence on those transactions. They will at least have the merit of establishing a great and salutary truth, that justice, where every thing else is balanced, is eminently conducive to success; and that well regulated freedom is one of the main foundations of public safety. We shall for our present purpose take two examples, one from ancient time, and another from our own, which have had a signal effect on the fate of the world, and are marked by the appearance of four generals of the most singular genius for war. The periods are the second Carthaginian war, and that which France waged in our time against the rest of Europe. The personages are Hannibal, Scipio, Buonaparte, and Wellington. There is considerable resemblance in many points between Hannibal and Buonaparte, as there is between Scipio and Wellington. The two former, after a long course of the most splendid success, lost all in a single battle, and became fugi,

England has been frequently comparetl to Carthage, though there was nothing to justify the comparison, but the solitary cir cumstance of one having been the greatest naval and commercial state of the old world, as the other is of the present time. But here the resemblance terminates. In every thing else the English character is essentially different from that handed down to us of the Carthaginians. The proverbial want of good faith; the giddiness in the use of liberty; the horrible cruelty and ingratitude to their Generals, as well as their ferocity in times of civil commotion, would apply with much greater force to the character of the French, particularly when these were in the habit of making the comparison, than to the English. Had it been said that there existed great affinity in the character, of the Romans and that of the English, the assertion would be much more correct. We can discover in both an invincible spirit of liberty, an extraordinary perseverance in enterprise, au unbending fortitude under difficulties, as well as great probity in their transactions. The defects of the Carthaginians have been no doubt exaggerated by the incensed and partial historians of Rome. The French have cause to complain of equal injustice on the part of their former opponents. But there was much truth in the charges brought against both; and their characters do not seem to us to be as estimable as that of their rivals. This remark applies still more strongly to the illustrious men, who commanded their armies at those two memorable periods.


In a moral point of view, Hannibal can stand no competition with Scipio. The same may be justly said of Buonaparte, as compared with Wellington. The French General has been guilty of many wanton and impolitic atrocities, which clouded the lustre of his great actions, and were the

chief cause of his overwhelming reverses. His rival waged war in the spirit of the best times; and to the confidence which his probity inspired, Wellington owed a large share of his success. Hannibal is accused of the grossest perfidy; and this vice was probably the cause of his having failed in an enterprise, the boldest and most ably conducted that is recorded in history. If this opinion be correct, it offers a signal proof of the utility of good faith. For our own part, we have not the faintest doubt, that justice is absolutely necessary to permanent prosperity. The contrary quality may prosper for a time, but its final miscarriage is generally theputed empire. Hannibal, it is true, after more marked; and it consoles us amidst the the battle of Zama, filled the highest office many disorders and violences of the politi-in Carthage; and it was only the impla cal world, to see that crime rarely escapes cable hatred and jealousy of the Romans, discomfiture and punishment. Hannibal which procured from his ungrateful and possessed in an incomparable degree the fickle country the order for his banishment. qualities of a soldier and a statesman, and Buonaparte's flight was not so honourable; he nevertheless failed, through his bad faith though the fears and hostilities of his oppoand cruelty, in an enterprise planned and nents were equally manifest. Hannibal executed with consummate talents. Buo- maintained his courage to the last; and his naparte has notoriously miscarried from the death was one of the vilest stains on the same vices of character; and with a genius policy of the Romans, and the noblest hofor war and civil administration of the mage they could have possibly paid to his highest order, he has seen his mighty scheme extraordinary genius. Buonaparte has not, of glory and empire burst like a bubble. in our opinion, displayed an equal degree of magnanimity; and cannot, therefore, stand a comparison with Hannibal in his deportment in bad fortune.

Scipio, like Wellington, appeared towards the close of the war, after all the other Generals, who had been opposed to their antagonists, had been defeated; and when very few hopes of safety seemed to remain to their countrymen. Both in their modes of warfare were accused of excessive temerity, and of endangering the existence of the state. Scipio was opposed by all the wisdom, reputation, and influence then in Rome; and having obtained the permission of the Roman people to raise an army, he was at the point of losing the command, the expedition was considered so rash. Even his success did not stifle animadversion; and the battle of Zama continued to be misrepresented by certain Romans, who were dazzled by the genius, and stunned by the victories of Hannibal. Yet never was an expedition planned with more consummate wisdom; for it offered the only means of withdrawing the Carthaginiaus from Italy. Had it failed, Rome

having committed great errors, had the re|| putation of having been beaten by fortune || and not by his enemies. In the rapidity of their marches, the number of their pitched battles, the slaughter of their enemies, and their long tide of success, there is a strong resemblance between the French and Carthaginian Generals. At the same time, the fortunes of both were decided in one battle, and by Generals whom they never before encountered. To complete the similarity, they were both compelled to fly from the countries they had illustrated by their victories, and had nearly raised to undis

The Carthaginian, in addition to his military and political talents, exercised an astonishing command over the minds of his followers. Never, perhaps, were such heterogeneous materials collected under the same standard; and to have kept them together, after they had been enriched by the plunder and corrupted by the luxuries of Italy, conveys a wonderful idea of the ascendency of his character. Buonaparte, in this respect, will stand a comparison with Hannibal. But he was much his inferior in fertility of resources. Whenever Hannibal committed an error, or sustained a check, with what rapidity he extricated himself from the one, and retrieved the other! Buonaparte, it is true, after his disastrous campaign in Russia, and the sigual defeat he sustained at Leipsic, collected, in each instance, an army with a degree of promptitude that had an appearance of the marvellous. And how near upon both occasions was he of wresting the victory from his opponents! But Hannibal, till his last defeat, never suffered himself to be reduced to such extremities. Yet Buonaparte, after


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