consequences of his ignorance, his meanness of mind, his transports of infirm fancy, and his guilt.  Let us hasten to redeem ourselves.  The field is open for a commanding British military force to clear the Peninsula of the enemy, while the better half of his power is occupied with Austria.  For the South of Spain, where the first effort of regeneration was made, is yet free.  Saragossa (which, by a truly efficient British army, might have been relieved) has indeed fallen; but leaves little to regret; for consummate have been her fortitude and valour.  The citizens and soldiers of Saragossa are to be envied:  for they have completed the circle of their duty; they have done all that could be wished—­all that could be prayed for.  And, though the cowardly malice of the enemy gives too much reason to fear that their leader Palafox (with the fate of Toussaint) will soon be among the dead, it is the high privilege of men who have performed what he has performed—­that they cannot be missed; and, in moments of weakness only, can they be lamented:  their actions represent them every where and for ever.  Palafox has taken his place as parent and ancestor of innumerable heroes.

Oh! that the surviving chiefs of the Spanish people may prove worthy of their situation!  With such materials,—­their labour would be pleasant, and their success certain.  But—­though heads of a nation venerable for antiquity, and having good cause to preserve with reverence the institutions of their elder forefathers—­they must not be indiscriminately afraid of new things.  It is their duty to restore the good which has fallen into disuse; and also to create, and to adopt.  Young scions of polity must be engrafted on the time-worn trunk:  a new fortress must be reared upon the ancient and living rock of justice.  Then would it be seen, while the superstructure stands inwardly immoveable, in how short a space of time the ivy and wild plant would climb up from the base, and clasp the naked walls; the storms, which could not shake, would weather-stain; and the edifice, in the day of its youth, would appear to be one with the rock upon which it was planted, and to grow out of it.

But let us look to ourselves.  Our offences are unexpiated:  and, wanting light, we want strength.  With reference to this guilt and to this deficiency, and to my own humble efforts towards removing both, I shall conclude with the words of a man of disciplined spirit, who withdrew from the too busy world—­not out of indifference to its welfare, or to forget its concerns—–­ but retired for wider compass of eye-sight, that he might comprehend and see in just proportions and relations; knowing above all that he, who hath not first made himself master of the horizon of his own mind, must look beyond it only to be deceived.  It is Petrarch who thus writes:  ’Haec dicerem, et quicquid in rem praesentem et indignatio dolorque dictarent; nisi obtorpuisse animos, actumque de rebus nostris, crederem.