Eloquent Speech of Logan, Chief of the Mingoes.— JEFFERSON.

I MAY challenge the whole orations of Demosthenes and Cicero, and of any more eminent orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to produce a single passage superior to the speech of Logan, a Mingo chief, to Lord Dunmore, when governor of this state.* And, as a testimony of their talents in this line, I beg leave to introduce it, first stating the incidents necessary for understanding it.

In the spring of the year 1774, a robbery was committed by some Indians on certain land adventurers on the river of Ohio. The whites in that quarter, according to their custom, undertook to punish this outrage in a summary way. Captain Michael Cresap and a certain Daniel Greathouse, leading on these parties, surprised, at different times, travelling and hunting parties of the Indians, having their women and children with them, and murdered many. Among these were unfortunately the family of Logan, a chief celebrated in peace and war, and long distinguished as the friend of the whites. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance. He accordingly signalized himself in the war which ensued. In the autumn of the same year a decisive battle was fought at the mouth of the Great Kanhaway, between the collected forces of the Shawanese, Mingoes, and Delawares, and a detachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians were defeated, and sued for peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the suppliants. But, lest the sincerity of a treaty should be distrusted, from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he sent, by a messenger, the following speech to be delivered to Lord Dunmore.

"I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, Logan is the friend of white men.' I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the inju

* Virginia.

ries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many: I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace: but do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear: Logan never felt fear he will not turn on his heel to save his life, Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one."

Fox, Burke, and Pitt.-A. H. EVERETT.

If the views of the opposition in parliament, in regard to some very important subjects, have received an apparent confirmation from the final result of the measures that were pursued, the party can also boast the honour of reckoning upon its list of members some of the most distinguished statesmen that ever appeared in England or the world. Not to mention those now living, who would do credit to any party or any nation, it may be sufficient to cite the illustrious names of Fox and Burke ; names that are hardly to be paralleled in the records of eloquence, philosophy, and patriotism; and which will only be more closely associated in the respect and veneration of future ages, on account of the personal schism which grew up between them, and which forms one of the most interesting parts of their history. Their difference was rather in regard to policy than to principle, both being warm and strenuous friends of liberty; and, when they differed, they were both partly right and partly wrong. That Burke was judicious and wise in discountenancing the too violent spirit of reform, which was then spreading through the nation, and threatening ruin to its institutions, and that Fox, in encouraging it, was rather influenced by a generous and unreflecting zeal for freedom, than by motives of sound policy, will now hardly be denied; and the time, perhaps, is not very distant, if it has not already arrived, when it will be admitted, with equal inanimity, that the policy of making war upon France,

whether for the purpose of crushing the principles of liberty, or, at a subsequent period, of checking the developement of her power, was, throughout, not only unjust, but imprudent, and eminently unfortunate for the ultimate interests of England; that Burke, by supporting this policy with his fervid and powerful eloquence, was unconsciously doing a serious injury to his country; and that the system of Fox and his friends and successors, in this point, was as politic and prudent as it was generous and humane. After thirty years of unheard-of exertion and unexampled success, the war seems to have ended by leaving an open field to the ambition of another state, infinitely more formidable and dangerous than France. It may be remarked, however, that this result does not appear to have been foreseen by the opposition any more than by the ministry. It has generally been the fault of the British statesmen, of all parties, to regard France merely as a rival state, instead of extending their views to the whole European system, of which France and England are only members, with interests almost wholly in unison.

Fox and Burke, if I may be allowed to dwell a little longer on so pleasing a theme as the characters of these illustrious statesmen, were not less distinguished for amiable personal qualities, and intellectual accomplishments, than for commanding eloquence and skill in political science. The friends of Fox dwell with enthusiasm and fond regret upon the cordiality of his manners and the unalloyed sweetness of his disposition. It is unfortunate that the pure lustre of these charming virtues was not graced by a sufficient regard to the dictates of private morality. Burke, on the contrary with an equally kind and social spirit, was a model of perfection in all the relations of domestic life; his character being at once unsullied by the least stain of excess, and exempt from any shade of rigorism or defect of humour. While his private virtues made the happiness of his family and friends, his conversation was the charm and wonder of the loftiest minds and the most enlightened circles of society. He was the only man whom Dr. Johnson, a great master of conversation, admitted to be capable of tasking his powers. The only deduction from the uni

form excellence of Burke is said to have been the small at

traction of his manner in public speaking, a point in which Fox was also not particularly successful, but was reckoned his superior. It would be too rash for an ordinary observer to undertake to give to either of these two mighty minds the palm of original superiority It can hardly be denied that that of Burke was better disciplined and more accomplished; and his intellectual reputation, being better supported than that of Fox by written memorials, will probably stand higher with posterity. Had Fox been permitted to finish the historical work which he had begun, he might, perhaps, have bequeathed to future ages a literary monument, superior in dignity and lasting value to any thing that remains from the pen of Burke. Both possessed a fine and cultivated taste for the beauties of art and nature; that of Fox seems to have been even more poetical than his illustrious rival's; but he has left no written proofs of it equal to the fine philosophical Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. It is but poor praise of this elegant performance, to say that it is infinitely superior to the essay of Longinus on the sublime, from which the hint seems to have been taken, and which nothing but a blind and ignorant admiration of antiquity could ever have exalt ed into a work of great merit.

A sagacious critic has advanced the opinion, that the merit of Burke was almost wholly literary; but I confess I see little ground for this assertion, if literary excellence is here understood in any other sense than as an immediate result of the highest intellectual and moral endowments. Such compositions as the writings of Burke suppose, no doubt, the fine taste, the command of language, and the finished education, which are all supposed by every description of literary success. But, in the present state of society, these qualities are far from being uncommon; and are possessed by thousands, who make no pretension to the emmence of Burke, in the same degree in which they were by nim. Such a writer as Cumberland, for example, who stands infinitely below Burke on the scale of intellect, may yet be regarded as his equal or superior in purely literary accomplishments, taken in this exclusive sense. The style of Burke is undoubtedly one of the most splendid forms, in which the English language

has ever been exhibited. It displays the happy and difficult union of all the richness and magnificence that good taste admits, with a perfectly easy construction. In Burke, we see the manly movement of a well-bred gentleman; in Johnson, an equally profound and vigorous thinker, the measured march of a grenadier. We forgive the great moralist his stiff and cumbrous phrases, in return for the rich stores of thought and poetry which they conceal; but we admire in Burke, as in a fine antique statue, the grace with which the large flowing robe adapts itself to the majestic dignity of the person. But, with all his literary excellence, the peculiar merits of this great man were, perhaps, the faculty of profound and philosophical thought, and the moral courage which led him to disregard personal inconvenience in the expression of his sentiments. Deep thought is the informing soul, that every where sustains and inspires the imposing grandeur of his eloquence. Even in the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, the only work of pure literature which he attempted, that is, the only one which was not an immediate expression of his views on public affairs, there is still the same richness of thought, the same basis of "divine philosophy," to support the harmonious superstructure of the language. And the moral courage, which formed so remarkable a feature in his character, contributed not less essentially to his literary success. It seems to be a law of nature, that the highest degree of eloquence demands the union of the noblest qualities of character as well as intellect. To think is the highest exercise of the mind; to say what you think, the boldest effort of moral courage; and both these things are required for a really powerful writer. Eloquence without thoughts is a mere parade of words; and no man can express with spirit and vigour any thoughts but his own. This was the secret of the eloquence of Rousseau, which is not without a certain analogy in its forms to that of Burke. The principal of the Jesuits' college one day in quired of him by what art he had been able to write so well; "I said what I thought," replied the unceremonious Genevan; conveying, in these few words, the bitterest satire on the system of the Jesuits, and the best explanation of his own.