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DEVOTED TO POLITICKS AND BELLES LETTRES.

VOL. I.

POLITICAL.

PRINCE REGENT'S SPEECH. LONDON, NOV. 11.-"This day the Prince Regent went to the House of Peers, and the Commons having been summoned to the bar, made the following

SPEECH:

My Lords and Gentlemen,

IT is with deep regret that I am again obligedto announce the continuance of His Majesty's lamented indisposition.

It would have given me great satisfaction to communicate to you the termination of the war between this country and the United States of America.

Although this war originated in the most unprovok. ed aggression on the part of the government of the U. States, and was calculated to promote the designs of the common enemy of Europe, against the rights and independence of all other nations, I never have ceased to entertain a sincere desire to bring it to a conclusion on just and honourable terms.

I am still engaged in negotiations for this purpose; the success of them must, however, depend on my disposition being met with corresponding sentiments on the part of the enemy.

The operations of his majesty's forces by sea and land in the Chesapeak, in the course of the present year, have been attended with the most brilliant and successful results.

The flotilla of the enemy in the Patuxent has been destroyed. The signal defeat of their land forces enabled a detachment of his majesty's army to take possession of the city of Washington; and the spirit of enterprise which has characterised all the movements in that quarter has produced on the inhabitants a deep and sensible impression of the calamities of a war which they have been so wantonly involved.

The expedition directed from Halifax to the Northern coast of the U. States bas terminated in a manner not less satisfactory. The successful course of this operation has been followed by the immediate submission of the extensive and important district east of the Penobscot River to his Majesty's arms.

In adverting to these events, I am confident you will be disposed to render full justice to the valour and discipline which have distinguished his Majesty's land and sea forces, you will regret with me the severe loss the country has sustained by the fall of the gallant commander of His Majesty's troops in the advance upon Baltimore.

I availed myself of the earliest opportunity afforded by the state of affairs in Europe, to detach a considerable military force to the river St Lawrence; but its arrival could not possibly take place till an advanced period of the campaign.

Notwithstanding the reverse which appears to have taken place on Lake Champlain, I entertain the most confident expectation as well from the amount as from the description of the British force now serving in Canada, that the ascendancy of his Majesty's arms throughout that part of North America will be effectually established.

The opening of the Congress at Vienna has been retarded from unavoidable causes, to a later period than had been expected.

It will be my earnest endeavour in the negotiations which are now in progress, to promote such arrangements as may tend to consolidate that peace which in conjunction with his majesty's allies, I have had the happiness of concluding, and to re-establish that just equilibrium among the different powers, which will afford the best prospect of permanent tranquillity to Europe.

The peculiar character of the late war, as well as the extraordinary length of its duration, must have materially affected the situation of all the countries engaged in it, as well as the commercial relations which formerly subsisted between them.

Under these circumstances I am confident you will see the expediency of proceeding with due caution in the adoption of such regulations as may be necessary for the purpose of extending our trade and securing

BOSTON, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1815.

our present advantages; and you may rely on my cordial cooperation and assistance in every measure which is calculated to constitute the prosperity and welfare of His Majesty's dominions."

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

OUR PROSPECT.

As it is the common custom, when acquaintance meet, to inquire of each other, what is the prospect of Peace, we feel persuaded that we need offer no apology for frequently introducing this subject in our speculations. There is indeed nothing of a publick nature, at present, so interesting; nothing on which there was ever such unanimity in publick sentiment—at least in this part of the country, we know no party, and scarcely an individual, who does not desire the return of Peace. We have to regret that while sincerely participating in the common wish, we cannot flatter ourselves with hopes, from circumstances which some of our friends consider as wearing a promising aspect.

The circumstances to which we allude are two; the language of the opposition in England, and the recent and brilliant success of our arms at New Orleans.

As to the opposition in England, if we would not deceive ourselves, we must inquire into the number and influence of its advocates, and examine the force of the arguments on which it rests. We have sufficient confidence in the excellent structure of the British government, as well as in the correct feelings of the nation, to believe, that if ministers are materially wrong, they will be opposed by a strong party, and be obliged to abandon their measures or their places. But opposition, mere opposition, amounts to nothing.

In the first place, the opposers of the usual addresses in the two Houses of Parliament, appear to have been very few in number; but little controversy took place, when the debate closed; not as is the custom in our Congress, by stopping the mouths of the minority with a call for the previous question;" but because there was no more to be said.

In the next place, let it be remarked that not a voice in either House pronounced the war with America either unjust or unnecessary, as was the case, during the war with France, down almost to its glorious close. The only ground taken in opposition to the tenour of the Prince's speech, was that there was some defect in the management of ministers since the war began. In this censure, the minority have no point of concert: Lord Grenville disapproved the destruction of the publick buildings of Washington. Lord Darn ley thought there must have been something rotten in the naval administration; Mr. Baring expressed bis surprise at extraordinary meas ures and extraordinary pretensions, satisfying himself with vague dissent; while Mr. Wilberforce, always the most loquacious and superficial, goes into particulars. As this gentleman has taken up the cudgels for us, with most zeal, bis remarks deserve our attention, that we may be able to judge of their probable cffect. He blames the government for advancing new claims of territory, in the negotiations at Ghent, when the events of the war

NO. LIX.

had given no support to such pretensions. Our advocate seems to have jumbled together both sets of propositions, without any regard to circumstances. His remarks, we can clearly see, on this side of the water, do not apply to the first propositions. It is true, that at that time, they could claim no territory, by the success of their arms, and it is as true they Their second propositions. required none. amounted to a claim of territory, for they offered to agree that each should hold what they then possessed. If their arms had gained nothing, then nothing was claimed; but Mr. Wilberforce knew as well as the ministers at Ghent, that a large tract of the district of Maine was then in their possession, by conquest. If the uti possidetis, which was the full extent of their proposal, was a claim of territory, it went no farther than it was founded on conquest. The proposition itself, therefore, refuted Mr. Wilberforce's objection.* It is not by such logick, that we can expect to see ministers put down, the war rendered unpopular, or the tone of the government depres-sed.

So far as the insufficiency of their navy has been censured, such opposition offers us the reverse of consolation. As we have already observed, if this produce any effect, it will prompt only to a more vigorous prosecution of the war.

The unexpected and severe check which the enemy have experienced at New Orleans, is the other circumstance which some consider as favourable to the prospect of peace. We cannot but view it far otherwise. No power makes peace in consequence of a reverse of fortune, but one that cannot make another effort. Did not Bonaparte uniformly, after a successful campaign, offer Great Britain terms of peace, and did she not as uniformly refuse them? When his destinies began to change, did he not decline the offer of peace until his casc was desperate? We think it would be extravagant to assert that Great Britain would refuse any conditions of peace, after an abór-tive campaign; but of this we feel persuaded, she would listen to no terms, which should appear the resuit of misfortune. With respect to our own country alone, we cannot but suppose she would have substantial reasons for avoiding such a conclusion of the contest; but this is not the only consideration that will operate with her. The reputation of strength is of more consequence to England in Europe, than it is in America. It is of no less importance to the rank which she holds, among the rival powers of the continent, that she should conciliate them by her justice, than that they should dread to provoke her power. Can we imagine then for a moment, that, having failed in an attack on one spot, she could possibly give. countenance to a conclusion, that she found herself maimed or weakened by such an event? If not, what good, as to peace, can we flatter ourselves will result from the signal repulseher expedition has sustained at New Orleans?' We do not say she will insist on washing away the stain in blood; but either her future suc

But the second propositious were not known to Mr. Wilber-force He had ou y sen the first, and where he had read a clim of tenitury, in them, we can.ot conjecture..

cesses, or the terms of a treaty of peace will show that she is unhurt-or we must do what thirty million Frenchmen attempted to their utmost in vain-oblige her to receive the dictates of a conqueror. The expedition against New Orleans is not yet closed, nor is it certain how it may terminate; from our heart we regret any battle, by sea or land, for every patriotick feeling revolts at the losses sustained by our country, when the enemy are successful, and, in their partial defeat, we can anticipate no consequence but the probability of a protracted war. Of all contingencies we think it most sincerely to be desired, that, before the news of this disaster reach England, a treaty of peace may have been signed at Ghent.

We cannot quit this subject, without noticing a gross misrepresentation of fact, palmed upon the House of Commons by Mr. Wilberforce, as to the disposition of the citizens of the United States. The people of this country have not united with Mr. Madison in this war. It was never so unpopular as it is at this day; but an offensive war, waged to gratify our worst enemies, the leaders of a detestable, unprincipled faction, is one thing, and the defence of our homes and property is another. Exhausted as we are by a long series of the most oppressive and ruinous measures that folly and wickedness could devise, we will yet, as nature and duty prompt, and as a people without a national government, stand by our homes, while we have any means of defending them. When we are suffered to remain quiet, we remain quiet. Let Mr. Madison call for loans no purse is opened. Let him call for volunteers to wage offensive war-he may as well call spirits from the vasty deep.

GENERAL REGISTER.

BOSTON, SATURDAY, FEB. 14, 1815.

FOREIGN. We have London dates to the 28th of November, now 75 days past. The Grand Congress at Vienna continued in session at the middle of November, but had completed its most important arrangements. The Imperial Dignity reverts to the House of Austria. Germany will be divided into seven Great Circles; the Emperour will direct two; the King of Prussia, two; the Kings of Bavaria, Wirtemberg and Hanover, one each The Emperour will preside in the Diet, when assembled. Frankfort, Nuremberg and Augsberg are to be free Imperial cities; Dantzick will be Prussian. Poland is assigned to Russia; Saxony to Prussia; the Netherlands as far as the Meuse to Holland; Hanover is enlarged and erected into a kingdom, and "King of Hanover" is annexed to the titles of the British sovereign.

A valuable convoy has arrived in England from the Brazils; likewise the Phebe frigate, Commodore Hilliar, and the American frigate Essex, his prize.

Verbal accounts state that a large expedition was fitting out, supposed to be for America.

The Prince Regent's Speech, on the opening of Parliament, and some notice of the language of members of both Houses, on its allusions to the war, will be found on our first

page.

DOMESTICK. Our accounts from New Orleans, which are to the 13th of January enable us to record a battle, which has no parallel in modern history. It commenced early on Sunday morning, the 8th of January, on the American lines, five miles below the city of New Orleans. It will be recollected that our forces were entrenched in a line, extending at right angles

from the Mississippi to Cedar swamp. Thus it was impossible for the enemy to approach the city but by storming our lines. The British, after two days active preparation, attacked our works, in two columns, on the right and centre. "The assault," says a writer, "was furious and brave almost beyond example, but was as bravely met. They advanced with fascines and scaling ladders to the very ditch, under a fire that exceeds description." "This," says Gen. Jackson, "rendered their scaling ladders and fascines, as well as their more direct implements of warfare, perfectly useless. For upwards of an hour, it continued with a briskness of which there have been but few instances perhaps in any country. In justice to the enemy, it must be said, that they stood it as long as could have been expected from the most determined bravery. At length, however, when all prospect of success became hopeless, they fled iu confusion from the field, leaving it covered with their dead and wounded." The Inspector General reports the loss of the enemy, 700 killed, 1400 wounded, 500 prisoners. Our loss on the lines, SEVEN killed and SIX wounded!! and from a comparison of the great variety of letters, and particular descriptions of the battle, we presume this state. ment is very near the truth.

OFFICIAL ACCOUNT OF THE LOSS OF THE ENEMY.

Head-Quarters, left bank of the Mississippi, five miles below New Orleans, 13th Jan. 1815. SIR-I have the honour to make the following report of the killed, wounded and prisoners taken at the battle at MacPrardie's plantation, on the left bank of the Mississippi, on the morning of the 8th Jan. 1815, and 5 miles below the city of New Orleans.

Killed,

700 1400

Wounded, Prisoners taken, 1 Major, 4 Captains, 11 Lieutenants, 1 Ensign, 488 Camp Officers and privates, making a

Grand total of 2600.

I have the honour to be sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant. H. HAYNES, Inspector General. Major General Andrew Jackson. Commanding the Army of the Mississippi.

The British commander in chief, Sir Edward Packenham was killed; and Major Generals Kean and Gibbs, killed or very severely wounded. Some letters say, we have taken 1500 stands of arms–others add that, the enemy had made an attack upon fort Plaquemine, which prevented their naval force from ascending the river, but had been repulsed, with the loss of the sloop of war Herald.

We hear nothing further of consequence from Georgia. The British are reported to be sickly, at Cumberland Island, and the alarm at Savannah has, in some measure, subsided.

We understand that 600 ship carpenters are at work at Sacket's harbour-that the keels of a 98 and a 74 are laid; a frigate of the largest class is likewise

building

A very heavy cannonading was heard off Warsaw sound, Georgia, and report said two ships were seen engaged, supposed to be an American and British frigate.

CONGRESS. The President has sent back the National Bank Bill, not signed-it is dead, and an attempt for another is begun. The nonintercourse bill is ready for the President's signature

STATE LEGISLATURE. The amendments to the Constitution, recommended by the Hartford Convention, and proposed by the Connecticut legislature, are now before both our Senate and House.

LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS. FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR. TULLY, No. VIII. Omnes ingeniosi, melancholici. Cic. I. T All ingenious persons are melancholick.

C.

THIS aphorism is adopted by Cicero, from the works of Aristotle that attentive and usually accurate observer of human nature. It is generally, but not universally true. Ingenious men not unfrequently appear low spirited, from the total abstraction of their thoughts from objects which surround them; and this insensibility to what may deeply and agreeably interest others, is attributed to dejection of mind.

But the remark of the Stagirite was not founded on this mistake. It is a fact that men of a quick, active, and penetrating intellect are

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peculiarly exposed to melancholy, and this owing to causes which we think may be satisfactorily explained.

Much may be done by habits towards increasing the capacity of the mind for intense application; but there is a limit, beyond which, nature will not be forced. If it be attempted, either, the physical powers, on the tone of which the energies of the soul, in a considerable degree depend, become exhausted, and disease ensues; or the sentient principle itself loses its vigour, and sometimes sustains a shock from which it can never be recovered.

But it is not these extreme cases that we are to consider at present. Few persons are so devoted to intense exertion of thought as to endanger the structure of their minds; but no person ever acquired the epithet, ingenious, who is not occasionally accustomed to a close and severe exercise of his mental faculties. It's only by surpassing the usual operations of the human intellect that he obtains this distirction.

Mental exertion is ranked in the highest chss of the stimulants which support the phenomena of life, and, like others of this class, though it is pleasurable while continued, it leaves the whole animal system in a state of exhaustion. Heaven gives to human beings a great variety of intellectual endowments; but the connexion between mind and matter is intimate, et ipsi animi magni refert quali in corpore locati sint, and as it respects the latten, there is a more general resemblance through the whole species. If the tone of the mind be uncommonly excited, it wearies the arimal fibre, if I may be allowed the expression, and it requires repose. The spirits necessarily vibrate from high to low, while the physical erergies revive. In this listless state of the mind, ordinary circumstances make no impression; nothing is engaging, even amusements disgust. The effects very much resemble those of other kinds of intemperance, for they are in their nature the same, and every kind of intemperance is naturally succeeded by melancholy. The rapture of the lover, when he leaves the idol of his affection, subsides into melancholy. The transports of the religious fanatick are succeeded by gloom, if not despondency. The convivial sigh in solitude, and thus the man who is remarkable for his ingenuity, whether artist, mathematician, or metaphysician, though his studies are a luxury, yet so far as they require, or produce extraordinary activity of mind, so far they exact what nature cannot uniformly sustain, and his brightness alternates with stupidity.

But for another, and perhaps a more common reason, the ingenious are exposed to melancholy. Persons of this description are generally devoted to some favourite pursuits, which from habit become the exclusive source of their pleasure. In their intercourse with the world, they rarely meet with those with whom they can have any community of taste or enjoyment. The amusements, and concerns of others appear to them trivial, or dull; they are out of their proper element; forbidden by the rules of civility, to introduce their hobby, they become languid for the want of interest, and feel themselves strangers, in the midst of their acquaintance.

THE WRITER, NO. XXXVII.

In the present corrupt and disordered state of the world mankind are always deceiving one another; and so desirous are they to pass for something more and better than they are, that they frequently take greater pains to counterfeit good qualities, than it would cost to

acquire them by habit, or cultivate and adopt them in reality, from principle. Although in this universal game of deception, men sometimes fail in their design upon their fellows, they usually succeed in deceiving themselves. Virtue is so amiable and desirable in the eyes of every one, that all are anxious to have the appearance of it at least, and very often even flatter themselves that they possess the substance, whilst in truth they have nothing more than a delusive image. Thus the importance of the reputation of virtue sometimes leads us to exalt, at least in our own conceits, our vices and failings into virtues; and in our overweening fondness for our own propensities, avarice is styled frugality or economy, and prodigality assumes the noble port and name of generosity; and this sort of self deception, or stratagem to deceive the world, is the more easy and natural, as there is hardly any of the virtues which do not, in their extremes, approximate towards, or degenerate into some neighbouring vices. In more innocent and artless times, when there was more simplicity and less cunning in the world, the virtues were associated in such a manner as to prevent each other from going beyond their proper bound, or degenerating from their native beauty, by diverging into excesses. Economy always accompanied generosity: courage was coupled with caution, to prevent her from being led astray by rashness, and cheerfulness was attended by sobriety, that she might not be seduced by wantonness. But in time, these agreeable partnerships were dissolved; for mankind began to have such a prevailing indifference to virtue of any kind, that their narrow minds could seldom support or entertain more than

one at a time, and the colleague was dismissed to look out for another patron. In the following allegory I shall attempt to shew the folly and misfortune of such a separation.

In the Golden age, SENSIBILITY and FORMTUDE were sent into the world together, and the gods, who designed their mutual powers for the happiness of mankind, enjoined them never to separate. Accordingly they began their progress by mutually assisting and supporting each other. If they dwelt in a palace, SENSIBILITY opened the heart of the Prince to the sufferings of his subjects; but FORTITUDE insisted upon his examining every complaint, lest he should be deceived by his feelings, and that his decrees might not be the effect of weakness instead of justice.

In the mansions of misery and distress, SENSIBILITY Softened the soul, and melted the heart which in prosperity had been obdurate, and touched the trembling chords of humility and self examination; but FORTITUDE was near to check the sigh of despair, to point to hope, to urge to action, to raise the sinking head and lift it up to " brighter prospects and a fairer heaven." Even amidst the desolations of war, this heavenly pair were still united; and whilst FORTITUDE animated the patriot breast in defence of sacred rights, armed it against the perils, and buoyed it above the privations of a camp or a siege; SENSIBILITY moulded the heart to merey, restrained the arm in fury of battle, and with angel voice called on the victor to spare the vanquished. In a great variety of scenes these two daughters of the skies were seen to embellish each other's charms, and to shine with more lustre from an union of their celestial rays. SENSI BILITY moved the softer passions of the soul, awakened virtuous emotions, stirred up, the feelings in the cause of innocence and goodness, opened with throbbing hand the mysterious source of tears, and moulded the glittering drop

that rolls from the eye of grief, or gems the cheek of pity: whilst FORTITUDE with firmer arm lent her support, endued with stronger purpose the softened heart, and taught her weeping sister that to be useful she must act as well as feel. Thus also wherever FORTITUDE was necessary, the silken sandals of SENSIBILITY led the way; without her indeed FORTITUDE was but a name; for if SENSIBILITY did not first perceive and point at distress, FORTITUDE was not wanted to meet and overcome it.

Happy would it have been for the world, if mankind had encouraged and protected this union; but in time their regard for these amiable visitors degenerated into an undue partiality for one; and finally by a foolish fondness a preference was openly avowed; one was caressed, the other neglected; jealousies were excited between them; they were less frequently found together; and at last, when the folly of the world had decreed that their union was no longer necessary, they separated. They are now solitary and gloomy in the world. SENSIBILITY wanders like a forlorn and crazy maid; mourns she knows not why, and sighs at woes she only knows by name. Her sorrows are fictitious, but, as FORTITUDE has left her, they ause her as much anguish as though they were real. She trembles for her friends, when there is no danger near them; and she listens with an aching heart and streaming eyes to every tale of misery, with scarcely a wish to alleviate it. But she is chiefly found weeping over novels; and whether in the palace or the cottage, the parlour or the kitchen, she is seen with one of these sweet promoters of anguish in her hands, sighing at each affecting page, and wetting every leaf

with her tears.

FORTITUDE, forsaken by SENSIBILITY, became sluggish and stupid; and having no lively feelings to excite her to action, she retired to a wilderness, where she changed her character to a selfish courage or vulgar hardihood. Nature however has given them so strong an affection for each other, that they are even desirous of coming together again, and when they now sometimes accidentally meet in scenes of trial and distress, they resume their former beauties, their usefulness is renewed, and philanthropy may yet rejoice to see the hand of SENSIBILITY Smoothing the pillow of the sick, and FORTITUDE giving her strength to support the dying head on her lap.

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I SOMETIMES amuse myself, looking over some of the ld literary productions which appeared at an early period in our country, of which I have made a considerable collection. In one of these I found the following letter from a father to his son, on his going abroad. It contains advice which deserves the serious attention of every young man, whether he propose to travel or remain at home. Some of your readers may possibly think the writer too much of a latitudinarian; but for myself, I am confident that the interest of the young in religious subjects, if it is grounded on rational convictions, must be progressive; and that the great object, is to induce them to take the first steps, in examination and reflection. I hope its insertion may be consistent with the object and character of Spectator. your

MY DEAREST AND MOST BELOVED SON,

PHILOPATER.

As Providence is about to remove you to a great distance from me, though, I hope, but

insuring

for a season, I could not forbear suggesting the few following thoughts to you, which you are to take rather as the overflowings of the affection of a father, than as necessary on your part, whose mind, I know, is capable of the best reflections, and possessed of generous and laudable sentiments, and amiable dispositions.

Cultivate then, my son, in yourself and others, as much as you can, the belief of a Supreme Being, and of an Universal Providence.

Amidst the several religious parties in the world, there is such a thing as true religion, abstracted from the consideration of all those parties, and which the sensible and virtuous part of mankind adopt; consisting in a reverential regard to the Supreme Being, and in seeking, by the practice of virtue, to secure his approbation in this state, and in any future state of existence.

The excellent faculties and powers with which men are endued, the vast improvements of which they are capable, and the desire, if they are virtuous, and apprehensions, if vicious, of an hereafter, seem, at least, to be strong presumptions of such a state. And certainly, if there may be a future state, and much more if it be probable there will, we ought to have a regard to it in our actions

and concuct in this life.

In such a state of things, where vice and bigotry seem almost to divide the world between them, a wise man will take care, that he be neither irreligious nor profane on the one hand, nor a bigot or enthusiast on the other.

Among the several sorts of what are called revelations, I believe you will find the Christian decidedly the most agreeable to reason and the nature of things, and, if rightly understood, to be a most perfect representation of all moral virtues. As therefore the Providence of God might set this up, or permit it to be set up, for the good of mankind, in aid of their reason, I would advise you to cultivate a veneration for the writings wherein it is contained, and for its divine author. Difference of style, difference of customs, and the different tenets of mankind, in different ages and countries, and, perhaps, some corruptions and interpolations, have, indeed, occasioned much obscurity, to us, in several parts of these books; but all the rules of a good life and virtuous conduct are sufficiently plain and intel¡igible.

To the different parties among Christians I pay little regard, in comparison of the wise and sincerely good man, who may be said to be a christian at large.

Publick worship ought to be observed, though the manner of it, in some religious assemblies, may be very lame and defective; and in others, too superstitious. But your own reason will tell you, that you have no call to affront the established religion of any country. If you can, with safety to yourself, cure any man of his superstition, you may do it; but if you have not a fair opportunity, you are not required to attempt it.

As I know you are a lover of virtue, I doubt not but you will take all proper opportunities, according to your sphere in life, to promote and recommend it. And though it may not be in your power to make men completely virtuous, yet you will do a great service to the world, if you make them less vicious; which, as God has blessed you with great abilities, may sometimes, perhaps, be in your power to do: But the proper seasons for these things must be left to your own discretion.

And now, my dearest son, I commit you to the protection of the great and supreme Pie

server of men. May he grant you, and your honourable friend, a safe journey, and a safe and prosperous voyage. May he bring you safe to the destined ground. May all your laudable enterprizes be crowned with success, that you may live happily and comfortably, and may have it in your power to display that benevolence and generosity, which is so natural to you, and which you have ever cultivated according to your ability. And finally, may it please God, that I may be again blessed with the sight and most agreeable conversation of my dearest child, for whom I pray the best of blessings, both temporal and eternal happiness.

Your most affectionate Father, &c.

EARL OF CHATHAM'S ADVICE TO HIS SON. IT was the object of the Earl of Chatham, in the education of his son, William Pitt, to qualify him for the honourable station he afterwards occupied, and the arduous duties which he was called to perform. When at the University of Cambridge, he received a letter from the Earl, with this advice.

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Love's softest lustre wanton'd o'er her face,
Her limbs were form'd, her actions mov'd in grace,
Science and Taste adorn'd her festive court,
Musick and Joy and every 'wildering sport.
Gay ‘laughs the morn'-the sullen night appears,
Oft after transports comes the feast of tears;
Joy strikes the viol-strains of rapture rise,

The minstrel falls-the voice of musick dies.
Ah! why to pleasure should such pangs succeed,
Why wast thou, Mary, doom'd so soon to bleed?

. How sweet and musically flows that lay, Which now in murmurs softly dies away; Colonna bending o'er her husband's bier,

Breathes those sad numbers hallowed with her tear,
With active zeal, with honest thirst of fame,
Hear Dacier vindicate her Homer's name.
Hear Montague repel light Voltaire's rage,
Who like a butcher mangled Shakspeare's page.
Hear from the bosom of the pious Rowe
The tender strain and warm devotion flow.
In Wolstonecraft's strong lines behold confest
The fatal errors of the female breast.
Behold enforc'd in More's instructive page,
Lessons of virtue for this careless age.
Hear Seward weeping over Andre's grave;
And call for Cook the spirit of the wave.
To Smith's romances fairy scenes belong,
And Pity loves her elegiack song.
Carter both Science and Invention own,
And Genius welcomes from her watchful throne.

"Plunge deep into prose and the severer studies, and not indulge your genius with verse, for the present. Substitute Tully and Demosthenes in the place of Homer and Virgil; and arm yourself with all the variety of manner, copiousness and beauty of diction, nobleness and magnificence of ideas of the Roman consul; and render the powers of eloquence complete, by the irresistible torrent of vehement argumentation, the close and forcible reasoning, and the depth and fortitude of mind of the Grecian statesman. This I mean at leisure inter- STANZAS WRITTEN IN A HAUNTED vals, and to relieve the course of those studies, which you intend to make your principal object."

POETRY.

FEMALE LITERARY TALENTS.

FROM LINN'S POWERS OF GENIUS.

"To man not only has kind Nature given Genius which rolls her piercing eye on Heaven, Enchanting woman bears an equal claim, To her unfold the golden doors of Fame. This truth, those names which we have past declare, Whom Fiction wafts transported thro' the air. -Where fall'n Palmyra moulders with the ground, And terror spreads its misty robe around, The great Zenobia held her powerful sway, And with stern virtue bade her realms obey. Her mind unshaken all the world admire, And Pity weeping sees the queen expire. -Hapless in Love, in Sorrow's moving strain, Hear Sappho mourn her unrequited pain. -Cold-hearted youth, where wanders Phaon now? Ah! youth neglectful of thy former vow-Behold thy maid on bleak Leucadia's brow Bend o'er the waves which beat the rock below: Hear her to winds her injur'd love declare, See her wild tresses streaming in the air; See her rais'd hands, her blue uplifted, eye, A suppliant pleading with the gods on high. -Fly, cruel youth-haste Phaon, haste to save, To snatch thy Sappho from the raging wave, -All aid is vain-ye rolling billows, cease! She seeks with you the silent arms of peace. -Hear bold Corinna strike her lyrick string, And bear young Pindar on her eagle wing. -With Lion port' and with a nervous hand, Eliza sway'd the sceptre of her land. -Nurs'd on the bosom of luxurious France, The queen of Scotland led the airy dance,

On Barbauld's verse the circling muses smile,
And hail her brightest songstress of the British isle."

ROOM.

THE Occasion of these lines was as follows. There was, in Dublin, a house which the inhabitants deserted, as one of the rooms was reported to be haunted. NOLAN, a celebrated Irish poet, undertook for a small bet, to spend the night in the dreaded apartment, providing himself well with pistols, which he presumed would have the most powerful charmi, over such visitors as he expected. By the noise, he had reason to suppose there were several sturdy ghosts, on the outside of the doors and walls; but on his threatening to put a brace of balls through the first form that entered, he was soon suffered to be quiet. At six, the next morning, his companions found him fast asleep, and the following lines on the table.

Ir from the cearments of the silent dead
Our long departed friends could rise anew ;
Why feel a horror or conceive a dread

To see again those friends which once we knew?
Father of all! thou gavest not to our ken,
To view beyond the ashes of the grave;
'Tis not the idle tales of busy men
That can the mind appal. The truly brave,
Seated on Reason's adamantine throne,
Can place the soul, and fears no ills unknown.

O! if the flinty prison of the grave
Could loose its doors, and let the spirit flee,
Why not return the wise, the just, the brave,
And set once more the pride of ages free?
Why not restore a Socrates again?
Orgive thee, Newton, as the first of men ?

In this lone room, where now I patient wait,
To try if souls departed can appear,

0 ! could a Burgh escape his prison gate,
Or could I think Latouche's form was near,
Why fear to view the shades which long must be
Sacred to freedom and to charity?

VERSES,

BY MR. JAMES MONTGOMERY, ON THE DEATH OF THE HIV. THOMAS SPENCER, OF LIVERPOOL, WHO WAS DROWNED, WHILE BATHING IN THE TIDE, ON THE 5th of AUGUST, 1811, IN THE 21st YEAR OF HIS AGE.

"Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters; and thy footsteps are not known.”

Psalm 77, verse 15.

Ox earth, in ocean, sky, and air,
All that is excellent and fair,

Seen, felt or understood,
From one eternal cause descends,
To one eternal centre tends,
With Gon begins, continues, ends,

The source and stream of good.
Him through all nature I explore;
Him in his creatures I adore,

Around, beneath, above:
But clearest in the human mind,
His bright resemblance when I find
Grandeur with purity combin'd,

I most admire and love.
Oh! there was one-on earth a while
He dwelt; but transient as a smile
That turns into a tear,

His beauteous image pass'd us by;
He came like lightning from the sky,
As prompt to disappear.
Sweet in his undissembling mien
Were genius, candour, meekness, seen,
The lips that loved the truth;
The single eye, whose glance sublime
Look'd to eternity through time;
The soul whose hopes were wont to climb
Above the joys of youth.

Of old*-before the lamp grew dark,
Reposing near the sacred ark,

The child of Hannah's prayer
Heard, through the tenuple's silent round,
A living voice; nor knew the sound
That thrice alarm'd him ere he found

The Lord who chose him there. Thus early call'd, and strongly mov'd, A prophet from a child approv'd,

SPENCER his course began;
From strength to strength, from grace to grace,
Swiftest and foremost in the race,
He carried victory in his face,

He triumph'd as he ran.
The loveliest star of evening's train
Sets early in the western main,

And leaves the world in night :
The brightest star of morning's host,
Scarce risen, in brighter beams is lost:--
Thus sunk his form on ocean's coast,
Thus sprang his soul to light.
Revolving his mysterious lot,

I mourn him, but I praise him not ;
To God the praise be given,
Who sent him like the radient bow,
His covenant of peace to show,
Athwart the passing storm to glow,
Then vanish into heaven.

* Samuel, 3. ver. 3.

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR JOHN PARK,

BY MUNROE, FRANCIS AND PARKER,

NO. 4 CORNHILL,

Where subscribers may be supplied with preceding numbfta

THE BOSTON SPECTATOR,

DEVOTED TO PÓLITICKS AND BELLES LETTRES.

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VOL. I.

POLITICAL.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

PEACE!

As it was beyond the power of language to express, or of calculation to estimate the distresses and privations which our beloved country was sustaining by this ruinous war, so we are unable to describe the importance of the event which brings relief to our distresses, and restores us once more to a state of Peace with all the world. The joy in which we so sincerely participated, on the liberation of Europe from the calamities of war, are renewed and augmented; for not only our sympathics, but our personal feelings, are allowed full scope, in the heart-felt congratulations which are now loud, sincere, and universal. We rejoiced when the insolent oppressor of Europe was humbled; for it was a day of salvation to millions of sufferers, on the Eastern continent; and we could not but consider it as a sure precursor to the destruction of his fatal influence, over our western hemisphere, which had involved United America in his crimes, and the just judgments of heaven which followed them. The glorious battle of Leipsick was directed by the benevolence of the Almighty, and opened a new, consolatory prospect to two worlds. We saw the dawn of our felicity in the discomfiture of the general foe of mankind, and we now enjoy the late, though welcome fruits of that awful and sublime conflict. Had Bonaparte kept his foot upon the neck of prostrate Europe to this day, at this day we should have been still fast bound to his triumphal car, struggling to our own utter ruin, to clinch his fetters on other nations and ourselves.

We rejoice at the peace-not that we expect to see our country restored to that prosperity which it enjoyed, before it sold that prosperity to the demon of democracy. We know this cannot be. We can rejoice as the culprit, who, when marching to publick execution, learns that his sentence is commuted for the state's-prison and hard labour for life. We waged a wicked, disgraceful war. We have made a disgraceful peace; and the strongest proof that our degradation was complete, is, that such is the state of our nation, that a peace, marked only by concessions to the enemy, is hailed with universal welcome, as comparatively a blessing.

We rejoice at the peace-because we were engaged in a bad cause, and have escaped from its consequences, with no greater sacrifices than an unjustly assaulted and powerful nation had a right to demand. Against the terms she has, admitted, when our outset was so unwarrantable, perseverance in opposition would have made our bad cause worse, and originated just claims for greater sacrifices on our part, as indemnification, when at last every effort would have been fruitlessly exhausted.

It is said by the advocates of a war which has empoverished and almost ruined our country, that the basis of the peace is the status ante bellum, and that this is HONOURABLE!! A more impudent absurdity cannot be uttered. Its refutation is glaring in the very terms in which it is conveyed. Attack a foreign power

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under pretence of intolerable injuries-bank-
when we cannot wish but for peace, for any
rupt our nation, reduce thousands of our peace, the conditions are such that the great
citizens to ruin, and spread unknown distress sacrifices made by this country FALL
among every class, rich and poor-lose and WHOLLY ON THE EASTERN ŠTATES.
spend some hundreds of millions of dollars in Citizens of New England, look at the Negotia-
war-and many thousands of lives-and then tion and your treaty; you will find that the
quit as we began! This is honourable is it? terms were rejected, modified, and changed,
This was excellent policy! This the consum- until, at last, the price of peace was paid by
mate wisdom of Mr. Madison-this the patri- a retrenchment of our local privileges. The
otism, to display which, the government was ambitious, invidious, and to us fatal policy,
wrested from the hands of those who were
which prompted the commencement of hostil-
guiding it in "the full tide of successful exities against England, marks every feature of
periment"!! O Americans, how dearly have the peace. The Indians are left exposed to.
you paid for the folly of your administration. be defrauded of their lands or driven from
They have squandered your blood and treas- them by the sword, that the extension of
ure, plunged you into the most intolerable southern empire into the wilderness may se-
privations, and bound to your necks a dead cure the permanent humiliation of the east-
weight of national debt, which few of you will ern Atlantick States. Virginia and Georgia
live to see discharged, and yet you exult, as resolve that the country shall be involved in
well you may, that their contest is closed, war forever, before they will agree not to pur-
though by withdrawing every pretension for chase Indian lands. But the relinquishment
which they drew the sword.
of East India trade, and the valuable Fisheries
of Labrador, those profitable privileges of the.
Yankees these may go, and it is a glorious
peace,
"honourable" to its treacherous pro-
jector. It was not enough that our commerce
should be ruined-that the revenue which is
to pay for the war which ruined it, should
principally arise from our industry, but we
must be abridged forever hereafter, of some of
the most profitable sources of our hated
wealth. New-Englandmen, do you now un-
derstand the war? Great-Britain was set up-
on your trarle, and, as long as that alone suffer--
ed, the contest was prosecuted with all the
ardour of interminable hatred. But when the
war reaches Virginia, all claims and preten-
sions are waved, and the privileges secured
by Mr. Jay's treaty are taken from us. If we
find ourselves too poor to meet the exactions
prepared for us by the war, our masters will
purchase lands of the Indians; we may go
and plant towns in Indiana, and our children
confirm the political power of those who have
ruined their fathers. Such are the bearings,
of this war and this peace.

We rejoice at the peace, though it is false,
GROSSLY FALSE that it restores our country to
the status ante bellum. Great Britain con-
cedes not an iota in principle, nor a farthing
of her possessions. She relinquishes no privi-
lege. She obtains of us the sacrifice of no
right; but we yield privileges of immense val-
ue, of which we had the undisputed and un-
disturbed enjoyment, when our government
declared war. The best and most profitable
of our fisheries ARE GONE. Our trade to her
East-India possessions is gone. Eastport and
the neighbouring islands are gone, or, what is
the same, to be left in her possession. These
are the trophies of Mr. Madison's glorious
contest. Such is the boon for which we have
been oppressed, and half-beggared; for this,
blood has flowed on the borders of Canada,
and in the very metropolis of the Union. For
this the national treasury owes a hundred mil-
lion dollars, which the fruits of our future
industry must be appropriatel to discharge.

We rejoice at the peace, though the dispute,
thus terminated, has shown Great Britain her
strength and our weakness, in some important
respects, wherein both were before singularly
deceived. Until Jefferson and Madison made
the experiment, it was believed by our coun
try, in general, that whenever we would em-
barrass England and coerce her to make con-
cessions, we had but to interdict all cominer-
cial intercourse, and she must yield. This
mistake was scarcely less prevalent in Eng-
land, than it was in the United States.
bargoes, nonimportation, nonintercourse, and
at last war, have been tried and proved worse
than vain. Great Britain and her colonies
have flourished through every successive at-
tempt, while the recoil of our short-sighted
efforts has brought us to the verge of ruin.
Our importance was fictitious, and henceforth,
should our rights be assailed, we shall derive
no aid from this illusion; we must calculate
on our physical energies alone.

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But, humbled as we are, as to our relative situation, and checked as are our future prospects, the most desirable of all probable events is now confirmed. Consternation and peril are at an end; industry, which has long languished in despair, may now resume its activity; enterprize, though it can bring no sudden fortunes, as in our happier days, may secure a competence. We shall be freed from the in-Em-sults of those who offered us protection, only to disturb our domestick tranquillity, and exercise a petty despotism over our personal liberties. "The Star of Peace" has returned; ; it brightens our hemisphere, and we may go on our way rejoicing. That deadly foreign influence, which cherished and invigorated the worst designs of the worst of men among us is spent. The proud triumph of democra cy sinks into disgrace. It has entailed upon › us its effects, but it has given us a lesson, which we shall now more easily understand,, and shall remember forever. The whole nation now realize that Peace is a blessing; that an unnecessary and unjust war cannot be waged with impunity; and that, if we select unprincipled men to direct our publick concerus,

We rejoice in the peace, such as it is, as the alternative of a worse evil, though unhappily it verifies the opinion we have ever maintained, as to one grand object of the war. It first destroyed the navigation and swept off the property of the New England states; and now,

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