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of applause ceased 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 his fame-a wound to his peace-and a nail to his coffin. Like spectres from the grave, they haunted him in every company, A life chequered with uncommon Action and care will in time wear
and whispered murder in his ear. varieties is seldom a long one. 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 himself 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 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 wherewithal 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 him. 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.
"Can I but suffer when a beggar pities me. Ere
Sir, I must make one more observation, that, if the 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 innocence 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 my 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 honor, they will not forget THEIR OWN.
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 negrocolored 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 some favor 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 colored port resembles blood—each glass is strangely metamorphosed to a man in armour, and every bowl appears a Nabob. The joyous toast is like the sound of murder, and the loud laugh are the groans of dying men. The scenes of India are all rehearsed, and no one sees the tragedy but myself. Ah! 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 thy mystery to me. Or thou, thou ragged wandering beggar, who, when thou canst not beg successfully, wil. 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 calls
"But since this cannot be,
Some time before his death, he became very melancholy-subject to
strange imaginations and was found dead at last.
TO A FRIEND IN PHILADELPHIA.
Paris, March 16, 179.
I LEAVE this place to-morrow for London; I go expressly for the purpose of erecting an iron bridge, which Messrs. Walkers, of Rotheram, Yorkshire, and I have constructed, and is now ready for putting together. It is an arch of one hundred and ten feet span, and five feet high, from the chord line. It is as portable as common bars of iron, and can be put up and taken down at pleasure, and is, in fact, rendering bridges a portable manufacture.
With respect to the French revolution, be assured that every thing is going on right. Little inconveniences, the necessary consequences of pulling down and building up, may arise; but even these are much less than ought to have been expected. Our friend, the Marquis, is like his patron and master, General Washington, acting a great part. I take over with me to London, the key of the Bastile, which the Marquis intrusts to my care as his present to General Washington, and which I shall send by the first American vessel to New York. It will be yet some months before the new Constitution will be completed, at which time there is to be a procession, and I am engaged to return to Paris to carry the American flag.
In England, the ministerial party oppose every iota of reformation: the high beneficed clergy and bishops cry out that the church is in danger; and all those who were interested in the remains of the feudal system, join in the clamor. I see very clearly that the conduct of the British government, by opposing reformation, will detach great numbers from the political interests of that country; and that France, through the influence of principles and the divine right of men to freedom, will have a stronger party in England than she ever had through the Jacobite bugbear of the divine right of kings in the Stuart line.
I wish most anxiously to see my much loved America. It is the country from whence all reformation must originally spring. I despair of seeing an abolition of the infernal traffic in negroes.
We must push that matter further on your side of the water. I wish that a few well instructed, could be sent among their brethren in bondage; for until they are enabled to take their own part, nothing will be done.
With many wishes for your happiness,
Your affectionate friend,
TO SIR GEORGE STAUNTON, BART.
As I know you interest yourself in the success of the useful arts, and are a member of the society for the promotion thereof, I do myself the pleasure to send you an account of a small experiment I have been making at Messrs. Walkers' iron works at this place. You have already seen the model I constructed for a bridge of a single arch, to be made of iron, and erected over the river Schuylkill, at Philadelphia; but as the dimensions may have escaped your recollections, I will begin with stating those particulars.
The vast quantity of ice and melted snow at the breaking up of the frost in that part of America, render it impracticable to erect a bridge on piers. The river can conveniently be contracted to four hundred feet, the model, therefore, is for an arch of four hundred feet span; the height of the arch in the centre, from the chord thereof, is to be about twenty feet, and to be brought off on the top, so as to make the ascent about one foot in eighteen or twenty.
The judgment of the Academy of Sciences at Paris, has been given on the principles and practicability of the construction. The original, signed by the Academy, is in my possession; and in which they fully approve and support the design. They introduce their opinion by saying,
"Il est sur que lors qu'on pense au projut d'une arche en fer de 400 pieds d'overture, et aux effets qui peuvent resulter d'une arche d'une si vaste étendue, il est difficile de ne pas élever des doutes sur le succès d'une pareille enterprise, par les difficultés qu'elle presente au prémieré aperçu. Mais si telle est la disposition des parties, et la manière dont elles sont reunis qu'il result de cet as semblage un tout trés ferme et trés solide, alors on n'aura plus les memes doutes sur la reussite de ce projet."*
It is certain that when such a project as that of making an iron arch of four hundred feet span is thought of, and when we consider the effects resulting from an arch of such vast magnitude, it would be strange if doubts were not raised as to the success of such an enterprize, from the difficulties which at first present themselves. But if such be the disposition of the various parts,