vigour, I shall receive them as a right. I cannot be grateful for them as a boon.

"Sir, I have nothing more to say, but to thank the House for the attention with which they have honoured me, and to beg pardon for having trespassed on them so long. I rejoice at the peace-cordially, sincerely, heartily, rejoice at it. I hope it will be lasting. I believe it will; but to the last hour of my life I shall never cease lamenting that it was not made years ago, when we might, perhaps, have had better terms, but when we could certainly have had as good as those which have been submitted to us this day."

The address was agreed to without a division.

CHARACTER OF THE DUKE OF BEDford.

1802. March 16. On the 2nd of March, 1802, Francis, fifth Duke of Bedford, died unexpectedly, at the early age of thirty-seven. His great endowments, and the premature termination of a life, the latter part of which was almost entirely devoted to the popular pursuit of improving the system of the rural economy of his country, caused a strong degree of interest to be felt on the melancholy occasion of his death. During his life, as a public character, he was connected with Mr. Fox, to whose political principles and conduct he was most warmly attached, and by which he was invariably guided. On the 16th of March, Mr. Fox, in moving a new writ for the borough of Tavistock, vacated by Lord John Russell, who had succeeded to the titles and estates of his deceased brother, took occasion to pronounce the following eulogium on his departed friend.*

"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 public calamity; because the public itself seems to consider it such; 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

This speech was printed in the Monthly Magazine for April, 1802, from Mr. Fox's own manuscript. On presenting it to the proprietor of that publication, Mr. Fox observed, that "he had never before attempted to make a copy of any speech which he had delivered in public."

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 excellences 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 as 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 public 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 public, 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 would 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 forward for any length of time to the exercises of his virtues and talents. But he was snatched away at a moment when society might have been expected to be long benefited by his benevolence, his energy, and his wisdom; when we had obtained a full certainty that the progress of his life would be more than answerable to the brightest hopes conceived from its outset; and when it might have been 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 in so far considerable, as an elevated situation, by making him who is so 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 situations in particular-the corrupting 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 inferior! Unless blessed with a heart uncommonly susceptible and disposed to virtue, how should he, who had scarce ever seen an equal, have a common feeling and a just sympathy for the rest of mankind, who seem 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 illâ
Fortunâ.'

This was precisely the case of the Duke of Bedford; nor do I know that his education was perfectly exempt from the 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, and by his example and his beneficence to render them better, wiser, and happier, was the constant pursuit of his life. He truly loved the public; but not only the public, according to the usual acceptation 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 this 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 public at large, whether to his relations and nearer friends, or even to any individual of his species, was the ruling passion of his life.

"He died, it is true, in a state of celibacy; but if they may be called a man's children whose concerns are as dear to him as his own-to protect whom from evil is the daily object of his care-to promote whose welfare he exerts every faculty of which he is possessed; if such, I say, are to be esteemed our children, no man had ever a more numerous family than the Duke of Bedford.

"Private friendships are not, I own, a fit topic for this House, or any public assembly; but it is difficult for any one who had the honour and happiness to be his friend, not to advert (when speaking of such a man) to his conduct and behaviour in that interesting character. In his friendship, not only was he disinterested and sincere, but in him were to be found united

all the characteristic excellences which have ever distinguished the men most renowned for that most amiable of all virtues. Some are warm, but volatile and inconstant; he was warm too, but steady and unchangeable. Never once was he known to violate any of the duties of that sacred relation. Where his attachment was placed there it remained, or rather there it grew; for it may be more truly said of this man than of any other that ever existed, that if he loved you at the beginning of the year, and you did nothing to forfeit his esteem, he would love you still more at the end of it. Such was the uniformly progressive state of his affections, no less than of his virtue and wisdom.

"It has happened to many, and he was certainly one of the number, to grow wiser as they advanced in years. Some have even improved in virtue; but it has generally been in that class of virtues only which consists in resisting the allurements of vice; and too often have these advantages been counterbalanced by the loss, or at least the diminution, of that openness of heart, that warmth of feeling, that readiness of sympathy, that generosity of spirit, which have been reckoned among the characteristic attributes of youth. In his case it was far otherwise; endued by nature with an unexampled firmness of character, he could bring his mind to a more complete state of discipline than any man I ever knew. But he had, at the same time, such a comprehensive and just view of all moral questions, that he well knew to distinguish between those inclinations which, if indulged, must be pernicious, and the feelings which, if cultivated, might prove beneficial to mankind. All bad propensities, therefore, if any such he had, he completely conquered and suppressed; while, on the other hand, no man ever studied the trade by which he was to get his bread; the profession by which he hoped to rise to wealth and honour; nor even the higher arts of poetry or eloquence, in pursuit of a fancied immortality, with more zeal and ardour than this excellent person cultivated the noble art of doing good to his fellow-creatures. In this pursuit, above all others, diligence is sure of success, and accordingly it would be difficult to find an example of any other man to whom so many individuals are indebted for happiness or comfort, or to whom the public at large owe more essential obligation.

"So far was he from slackening or growing cold in these generous pursuits, that the only danger was, lest, notwithstanding his admirable good sense, and that remarkable soberness of character which distinguished him, his munificence might, if he had lived, have engaged him in expenses to which even his princely fortune would have been found inadequate. Thus, the only circumstance like a failing in this great character was, that, while indulging his darling passion for making himself useful to others, he might be too regardless of future consequences to himself and to his family. The love of utility was indeed his darling, his ruling passion. Even in his recreations, (and he was by no means naturally averse to such as were suitable to his station in life), no less than in his graver hours, he so much loved to keep this grand object in view, that he seemed, by degrees, to grow weary of every

amusement which was not in some degree connected with it. Agriculture he judged rightly to be the most useful of all sciences, and, more particularly in the present state of affairs, he conceived it to be the department in which his services to his country might be most beneficial. To agriculture, therefore, he principally applied himself; nor can it be doubted, but, with his great capacity, activity, and energy, he must have attained his object, and made himself eminently useful in that most important branch of political economy. Of the particular degree of his merit in this respect, how much the public is already indebted to him; how much benefit it may still expect to derive from the effects of his unwearied diligence and splendid example, many members of this House can form a much more accurate judgment than I can pretend to. But of his motive to these exertions I am competent to judge, and can affirm, without a doubt, that it was the same which actuated him throughout -an ardent desire to employ his faculties in the way, whatever it might be, in which he could most contribute to the good of his country and the general interests of mankind.

"With regard to his politics (I feel a great unwillingness to be wholly silent on the subject) and, at the same time, much difficulty in treating it with propriety, when I consider to whom I am addressing myself. I am sensible that those principles upon which, in any other place, I should not hesitate to pronounce an unqualified eulogium, may be thought by some, perhaps by the majority of this House, rather to stand in need of apology and exculpation, than to form a proper subject for panegyric. But, even in this view, I may be allowed to offer a few words in favour of my departed friend. I believe few, if any of us, are so infatuated with the extreme notions of philosophy as not to feel a partial veneration for the principles, some leaning even to the prejudices of the ancestors, especially if they were of any note, from whom we are respectively descended. Such biasses are always, as I suspect, favourable to the cause of patriotism and public virtue. I am sure, at least, that in Athens and Rome they were so considered. No man had ever less of family pride, in the bad sense, than the Duke of Bedford; but he had a great and just respect for his ancestors. Now if, upon the principle to which I have alluded, it was in Rome thought excusable in one of the Claudii to have, in conformity with the general manners of their race, something too much of an aristocratical pride and haughtiness, surely in this country it is not unpardonable in a Russell to be zealously attached to the rights of the subject, and peculiarly tenacious of the popular parts of the constitution. It is excusable, at least, in one who numbers among his ancestors the great Earl of Bedford, the patron of Pym, and the friend of Hampden, to be an enthusiastic lover of liberty; nor is it to be wondered at, if a descendant of Lord Russell should feel more than common horror for arbitrary power, and a quick, perhaps even a jealous discernment of any approach or tendency in the system of government to that dreaded evil. But whatever may be our differences in regard to principles, I trust there is no member of this House who is not liberal enough to do justice to upright conduct, even