DUKE OF BEDFORD'S SPEECH,

ON A MOTION TO ADDRESS THE THRONE FOR THE DISMISSAL OF MINISTERS.

IN recording the subsequent sample of the eloquence of this distinguished nobleman, we eagerly seize on so appropriate an occasion to introduce to the more intimate acquaintance of our readers his character and pretensions, by prefixing to the speech a delineation of them, which, though executed by the hand of friendship, has been admitted, by those of less indulgence and partiality towards him than Mr. Fox, to be distorted by no great exaggeration of praise, or to be disguised by no sedulous exclusion of defects.

In March 1802, the Duke of Bedford, in the prime of life, and in the midst of usefulness, very suddenly died. Leaving no son, the peerage devolved on his brother, who was, at the time, a member of the house of commons. The borough of Tavis. stock which he represented became thus vacated. In moving for a writ for a new election for that place, Mr. Fox as prefatory to the motion, pronounced the eulogium on his deceased friend to which we have alluded. Whatever slight variation of opinion may be entertained respecting the exactness of the resemblance, it has been, and must be confessed, that the portrait he has drawn, is a masterly display of ability. We know indeed, of no example of more happy and complete success, than this eulogium, in a species

of eloquence of all others, perhaps, the most hazardous and difficult.

MR. CHAIRMAN,

"If the sad event which has recently occurred were only a private misfortune, however heavy, I should feel the impropriety of obtruding upon the house the feelings of private friendship, and would have sought some other opportunity of expressing those sentiments of gratitude and affection, which must be ever due from me to the memory of the excellent person, whose loss gives occasion to the sort of motion of course, which I am about to make to the house. It is because I consider the death of the duke of Bedford as a great publick calamity, because the publick itself seems so to consider it; because, not in this town only, but in every part of the kingdom, the impression made by it seems to be the strongest and most universal, that ever appeared upon the loss of a subject; it is for these reasons that I presume to hope for the indulgence of the house, if I deviate in some degree, from the common course, and introduce my motion in a manner which I must confess to be unusual on similar occasions. At the same time, I trust sir, that I shall not be suspected of any intention to abuse the indulgence which I ask, by dwelling, with the fondness of friendship, upon the various excellencies of the character to which I have alluded, much less by entering into a history of the several events of his life, which might serve to illustrate it. There was something in that character so peculiar and striking, and the just admiration which his virtues commanded was such, that to expatiate upon them in any detail is unnecessary, as upon this occasion it would be improper. That he has been much lamented and generally, cannot be wondered at, for surely there never was a more just occasion of publick sorrow. To lose such a man!-at such a time!so unexpectedly! The particular stage of his life too in which we lost him, must add to every feeling of regret, and make the disappointment more severe

and poignant to all thinking minds. Had he fallen at an earlier period, the publick to whom he could then, comparatively speaking at least, be but little known, would rather have compassionated and condoled with the feelings of his friends and relations, than have been themselves very severely afflicted by the loss. It would have been suggested, and even we who were the most partial must have admitted, that the expectations raised by the dawn are not always realized in the meridian of life. If the fatal event had been postponed, the calamity might have been alleviated by the consideration, that mankind could not have looked for any length of time to the exercise of his virtues and talents. But he was snatched away at a moment when society might have reasonably hoped, that after having accomplished all the good of which it was capable, he would have descended not immaturely into the tomb. He had, on the one hand, lived long enough to have his character fully confirmed and established, while on the other, what remained of life seemed, according to all human expectations, to afford ample space and scope for the exercise of the virtues of which that character was composed. The tree was old enough to enable us to ascertain the quality of the fruit which it would bear, and, at the same time, young enough to promise many years of produce. The high rank and splendid fortune of the great man of whom I am speaking, though not circumstances which in themselves either can or ought to conciliate the regard and esteem of rational minds, are yet so far considerable, as an elevated situation, by making him who is placed in it more powerful and conspicuous, causes his virtues or vices to be more useful or injurious to society. In this case the rank and wealth of the person are to be attended to in another and a very different point of view. To appreciate his merits justly, we must consider, not only the advantages, but the disadvantages, connected with such circumstances. The dangers attending prosperity in general, and high situation in particular, the corrupt influence of flattery, to

which men in such situations are more peculiarly exposed, have been the theme of moralists in all ages and in all nations: but how are these dangers increased with respect to him who succeeds in his childhood to the first rank and fortune in a kingdom such as this, and who having lost his parents, is never approached by any, being who is not represented to him as in some degree his inferiour! Unless blessed with a heart uncommonly susceptible and disposed to virtue, how should he who has scarcely ever seen an equal, have a common feeling, and a just sympathy, for the rest of mankind, who seemed to have been formed rather for him, and as instruments of his gratification, than together with him for the general purposes of nature? Justly has the Roman satirist remarked,

Rarus enim fermè sensus communis in illa

Fortuna.

"This was precisely the case of the duke of Bedford; nor do I know that his education was perfectly exempt from defects usually belonging to such situations; but virtue found her own way, and on the very side where the danger was the greatest was her triumph most complete. From the blame of selfishness no man was ever so eminently free. No man put his own gratification so low, that of others so high in his estimation To contribute to the welfare of his fellow citizens was the constant, unremitted pursuit of his life, by his example and his beneficence to render better, wiser, and happier. He truly loved the publick, but not only the publick, according to the usual acceptance of the word; not merely the body corporate, if I may so express myself, which bears that name, but man in his individual capacity; all who came within his notice and deserved his protection, were objects of his generous concern. From his station the sphere of his acquaintance was larger than that of most other men; yet in his extended circle, few, very few, could be counted to whom he had not found some occasion to be serviceable. To be useful, whether to the publick at large, whether to his relations