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by the Commander-in-Chief, and the delin- | Sir David Dundas, and which obtained the quent censured or punished as the case seemed to require. The army was thus like a family under protection of an indulgent father, who, willing to promote merit, checks, with a timely frown, the temptations to license and extravagance.

The private soldiers equally engaged the attention of his Royal Highness. In the course of his superintendence of the army, a military dress, the most absurd in Europe, was altered for one easy and comfortable for the men, and suitable to the hardships they are exposed to in actual service. The severe and vexatious rules exacted about the tying of hair, and other trifling punctilios, (which had been found sometimes to goad troops into mutiny,) were abolished, and strict cleanliness was substituted for a Hottentot head-dress of tallow and flour. The pay of the soldier was augmented, while care was at the same time taken that it should, as far as possible, be expended in bettering his food and extending his comforts. The slightest complaint on the part of a private sentinel was as regularly inquired into, as if it had been preferred by a general officer. Lastly, the use of the cane (a brutal practice, which our officers borrowed from the Germans) was entirely prohibited, and regular corporal punishments, by the sentence of a court-martial, have been gradually diminished.

If, therefore, we find in the modern British officer more information, a more regular course of study, a deeper acquaintance with the principles of his profession, and a greater love for its exertions-if we find the private sentinel discharge his duty with a mind unimbittered by party vexations and regimental exactions, conscious of immunity for capricious violence, and knowing where to appeal if he sustains injury-if we find in all ranks of the army a love of their profession, and a capacity of matching themselves with the finest troops which Europe ever produced-to the memory of his Royal Highness the Duke of York we owe this change from the state of the forces thirty years since.

The means of improving the tactics of the British army did not escape his Royal Highness's sedulous care and attention. Formerly, every commanding officer manœuvred his regiment after his own fashion; and if a brigade of troops were brought together, it was very doubtful whether they could execute any one combined movement, and almost certain that they could not execute the various parts of it on the same principle. This was remedied by the system of regulations compiled by the late

sanction and the countenance of his Royal Highness. This one circumstance of giving a uniform principle and mode of working to the different bodies, which are, after all, but parts of the same great machine, was in itself one of the most distinguished services which could be rendered to a national army, and it is only surprising that, before it was introduced, the British army was able to execute any combined movements at all.

We cannot but notice the Duke of York's establishment near Chelsea for the orphans of soldiers, the cleanliness and discipline of which are a model for such institutions; and the Royal Military School, or College, at Sandhurst, where every species of scientific instruction is afforded to those officers whom it is desirable to qualify for the service of the staff. The excellent officers who have been formed at this institution, are the best pledge of what is due to its founder. Again we repeat, that if the British soldier meets his foreign adversary, not only with equal courage, but with equal readiness and facility of manoeuvre-if the British officer brings against his scientific antagonist, not only his own good heart and hand, but an improved and enlightened knowledge of his profession, to the memory of the Duke of York, the army and the country owe them.

The character of his Royal Highness was admirably adapted to the task of this extended reformation in a branch of the public service on which the safety of England absolutely depended for the time. Without possessing any brilliancy, his judgment, in itself clear and steady, was inflexibly guided by honour and principle. No solicitations could make him promise what it would have been inconsistent with these principles to grant; nor could any circumstances induce him to break or elude the promise which he had once given. At the same time, his feelings, humane and kindly, were on all possible occasions accessible to the claims of compassion; and there occurred but rare instances of a wife widowed, or a family rendered orphans, by the death of a meritorious officer, without something being done to render their calamities more tolerable.

As a statesman, the Duke of York, from his earliest appearance in public life, was guided by the opinions of Mr. Pitt. But two circumstances are worthy of remark. First, that his Royal Highness never permitted the consideration of politics to influence him in his department of Commander-in-Chief, but gave alike to Whig as to Troy, the preferment their service or their talents deserved. Secondly, in attaching himself to the party whose object is supposed to be to

strengthen the crown, his Royal Highness
would have been the last man to invade, in
the slightest degree, the rights of the people.
The following anecdote may be relied upon.
At the table of the Commander-in-Chief,
not many years since, a young officer enter-
ed into a dispute with Lieut.-Colonel
upon the point to which military obedi
ence ought to be carried. "If the Com-
mander-in-Chief," said the young officer,
like a second Seid," should command me to
do a thing which I knew to be civilly illegal,
I should not scruple to obey him, and
consider myself as relieved from all respon
sibility by the commands of my military
superior." "So would not I," returned
the gallant and intelligent officer who main-
tained the opposite side of the question. "I
should rather prefer the risk of being shot
for disobedience by my commanding officer,
than hanged for transgressing the laws and
violating the liberties of the country." "You
have answered like yourself,” said his Royal
Highness, whose attention had been attracted
by the vivacity of the debate; "and the
officer would deserve both to be shot and
hanged that would act otherwise. I trust
all British officers would be as unwilling to
execute an illegal command, as I trust the
Commander-in-Chief would be incapable
of issuing one."

The religion of the Duke of York was sincere, and he was particularly attached to the doctrines and constitution of the Church of England. In this his Royal Highness strongly resembled his father; and, like his father, he entertained a conscientious sense of the obligations of the coronation oath, which prevented him from acquiescing in the further relaxation of the laws against Catholics. We pronounce no opinion on the justice of his Royal Highness's sentiments on this important point, but we must presume them to have been sincerely entertained, since they were expressed at the hazard of drawing down upon his Royal Highness an odium equally strong and resentful.

In his person and countenance the Duke of York was large, stout, and manly; he spoke rather with some of the indistinctness of utterance peculiar to his late father, than with the precision of enunciation which distinguishes the King, his Royal brother. Indeed, his Royal Highness resembled his late Majesty perhaps the most of any of George III.'s descendants. His family affections were strong, and the public cannot have forgotten the pious tenderness with which he discharged the duty of watching the last days of his royal father, darkened as they were by corporeal blindness and mental incapacity. No pleasure, no business,

was ever known to interrupt his regular visits to Windsor, where his unhappy parent could neither be grateful for, nor even sensible of, his unremitted attention. The same ties of affection united his Royal Highness to other members of his family, and particularly to its present Royal Head. Those who witnessed the coronation of his present Majesty will long remember, as the most interesting part of that ceremony, the cor diality with which his Royal Highness the Duke of York performed his act of homage, and the tears of affection which were mutually shed between the Royal brethren. We are aware that under this heavy dispensation, His Majesty will be chief mourner, not in name only, but in all the sincerity of severed affection. The King's nearest brother in blood was also his nearest in affection; and the subject who stood next to the throne, was the individual who would most willingly have laid down his life for its support.

In social intercourse the Duke of York was kind, courteous, and condescending,general attributes, we believe, of the blood Royal of England, and well befitting the princes of a free country. It may be remembered, that when, in "days of youthful pride," his Royal Highness had wounded the feelings of a young nobleman, he never thought of sheltering himself behind his rank, but manfully gave reparation by receiving the (well-nigh fatal) fire of the offended party, though he declined to return it.

We would here gladly conclude the subject, but to complete a portrait, the shades as well as the lights must be inserted, and in their foibles as well as their good qualities, Princes are the property of history. Occupied perpetually with official duty, which, to the latest period of his life he discharged with the utmost punctuality, the Duke of York was peculiarly negligent of his own affairs, and the embarrassments which arose in consequence, were considerably increased by an imprudent passion for the turf and for deep play. These unhappy propensities exhausted the funds with which the nation supplied him liberally, and sometimes pro duced extremities which must have been painful to a man of temper so honourable. The exalted height of his rank, which renders it doubtless more difficult to look into and regulate domestic expenditure, together with the engrossing duties of his Royal Highness's office, may be admitted as alleviations, but not apologies, for their imprudence.

A criminal passion of a different nature proved, at one part of the Duke of York's life, fraught with consequences likely to affect his character, destroy the confidence

of the country in his efforts, and blight the fair harvest of national gratitude, for which he had toiled so hard. It was a striking illustration of the sentiment of Shakspeare, "The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices"Make whips to scourge us,

The Duke of York, married to Fredrica, Princess Royal of Prussia, Sept. 29, 1791, lived with her on terms of decency, but not of affection; and the Duke had formed with a female called Clarke, a connexion justifiable certainly neither by the laws of religion nor morality. Imprudently he suffered this woman to express her wishes to him for the promotion of two or three officers, to whose preferment there could be no other objection than that they were recommended by such a person. It might doubtless have occurred to the Duke, that the solicitations of a woman like this were not likely to be disinterested; and, in fact, she seemed to have favoured one or two persons, as being her paramours several for mere prospect of gain, which she had subordinate agents to hunt out for, and one or two from a real sense of good nature and benevolence. The examination of this woman and her various profligate intimates before the House of Commons occupied that assembly for nearly three months, and that with an intenseness of anxiety seldom equalled. The Duke of York was acquitted from the motion brought against him, by a majority of eighty; but so strong was the outcry against him without doors, so much was the nation convinced that all Mrs. Clarke said was true, and so little could they be brought to doubt that the Duke York was a conscious and participant actor in all that person's schemes, that his Royal Highness, seeing his utility obstructed by popular prejudice, tendered to His Majesty the resignation of his office, which was accepted accordingly, March 20, 1809. And thus, as according to Solomon a dead fly can pollute the most precious unguent, was the honourable fame acquired by the services of a lifetime, obscured by what the gay world would have termed a venial levity. The warning to those of birth and eminence is of the most serious nature. -This step had not been long taken, when the mist in which the question was involved began to disperse. The public accuser in the House of Commons, Colonel Wardle, was detected in some suspicious dealings with the principal witness, Mrs. Clarke, and it was evidently expectation of gain that had brought this lady to the bar as an evidence. Next occurred, in the calm moments of retrospect, the great improbability that his Royal Highness ever could know on what terms she negotiated with those in whose

favour she solicited. It may well be supposed she concealed the motive for interesting herself in such as were his own favoured rivals; and what greater probability was there, that she should explain to him her mercenary speculations, or distinguish them from the intercessions which she made upon more honourable motives? When the matter of accusation was thus reduced, to his Royal Highness's having been, in two or three instances, the dupe of an artful woman, men began to see, that when once the guilt of entertaining a mistress was acknowledged, the disposition to gratify such a person, who must always exercise a natural influence over her paramour, follows as a matter of course. It was then that the public compared the extensive and lengthened train of public services, by which the Duke had distinguished himself in the management of the army, with the trifling foible of his having granted one or two favours, not in themselves improper, at the request of a woman who had so much opportunities to press her suit: and, doing to his Royal Highness the justice he well deserved, welcomed him back, in May, 1811, to the situation from which he had been driven by calumny and popular prejudice.

In that high command his Royal Highness continued to manage our military affairs. During the last years of the most momentous war that ever was waged, his Royal Highness prepared the most splendid victories our annals boast, by an unceasing attention to the character and talents of the officers, and the comforts and health of the men. Trained under a system so admirable, our army seemed to increase in efficacy, power, and even in numbers, in proportion to the increasing occasion which the public had for their services. Nor is it a less praise that, when the men so disciplined returned from scenes of battle, ravaged countries, and stormed cities, they re-assumed the habits of private life as if they had never left them; and that of all the crimes which the criminal calendar presents, (in Scotland at least), there are not above one or two instances in which the perpetrators have been disbanded soldiers. This is a happy change since the reduction of the army, after peace with America in 1783, which was the means of infesting the country with ruffians of every description; and in the prison of Edinburgh alone, there were six or seven disbanded soldiers under sentence of death at the same time.

This superintending care, if not the most gaudy, is amongst the most enduring flowers which will bloom over the Duke of York's tomb. It gave energy to Britain in war,

and strength to her in peace. It combined tranquillity with triumph, and morality with the habits of a military life. If our soldiers have been found invincible in battle, and meritorious in peaceful society when restored to its bosom, let no Briton forget that this is owing to the paternal care of him to whose memory we here offer an imperfect tribute.-Edinburgh Weekly Journal.

The Duke of York dying at the house of the Duke of Rutland, in Arlington-street, which afforded no accommodations for his lying in state, that nothing might be wanting on this solemn occasion, his Majesty gave direction that his own palace at St. James's should be devoted to this melancholy purpose; and accordingly, the splendid stateroom was appropriated to this last sad exhibition of mortal greatness.

On Wednesday night, Jan. 17th, about twelve o'clock, the royal remains having been soldered in lead, and placed in the state coffin, were removed from Arlingtonstreet to St. James's palace in a hearse, and conveyed to the state room which had been prepared for the lifeless visitant. Here it was placed on a platform under a state canopy, and covered with a pall of black velvet, lined with black silk, and flounced with two rows of white sarcenet. On each side of the pall were three escutcheons, containing the arms of his late Royal Highness; at the head, on a velvet cushion, was placed his coronet, and at the feet another bearing his baton as field marshal.

This spacious apartment is about 65 feet in length, and 35 in breadth. It was fitted up as a vaulted chamber, composed of sweeping black draperies springing from a magnificent pendant formed in the centre of the ceiling, from which they descended down the sides of the apartment to the floor. The windows were completely darkened, and this mansion of gloomy splendour was illuminated with the light of about thirty sconces on each side of the room, and eight at each end, while three wax lights burned on each side of the coffin.

On the two following days the public were admitted to see royal mortality lying in state, but so amazing were the crowds which assembled, that perhaps not one in fifty could gain an entrance. The time proposed was, from ten until four of each day, but as the doors on the Thursday were not opened until about an hour after the period announced, the mass of people that assembled, rendered their situation, from the pressure of the throng, truly distressing. Some serious accidents happened to the persons of individuals, but of bon

nets, caps, shawls, shoes, and pattens, the wreck was astonishingly great. Such as could gain admittance expressed themselves highly gratified with the arrangements that had been made within to give effect to the gloomy spectacle, with the exception, that only a small portion of the state coffin, covered with crimson velvet, was visible.

On the morning of Saturday, about eight o'clock, every thing being prepared, the melancholy procession left the palace for Windsor, where the body was to be deposited in the royal vault. Previous to its departure vast multitudes assembled, and the road was completely covered with horses, carriages, and foot passengers, that had taken their stand in various places advantageous for viewing the mournful spectacle. Of these, vast numbers proceeded to Windsor, and although multitudes dropped off on the road, and returned to their homes, fresh accessions continued to pour in from every quarter, so that no diminution of the aggregate at any time appeared. The windows also of every house that stood on the line of march, were filled with spectators, for which, in some places, enormous sums were paid.

Arriving at Windsor, the throng of people surpassed all anticipation and calculation; and multitudes who came from a considerable distance, with a view of witnessing the interment, were compelled to return with the mortification of a disappointment. They, however, had an opportunity of seeing the glare of torches, of listening to the plaintive notes of solemn music, and of hearing the sounds of minute and other guns that were discharged. The funeral reached the gate leading to the chapel a few minutes before nine. After a short pause, ten yeomen of the guard removed the coffin from the hearse, and the mourners fell into the stations they were to occupy; The procession, led by the Dean and Prebendaries, then slowly moved to the nave of the chapel. The service was performed with deliberate solemnity by the Dean, after which the coffin, by means of machinery, was let down into the vault, and a few minutes before twelve at night the discharge of guns announced the termination of this royal funeral.

The following fac-simile of the Duke's hand-writing, dated May 13. 1774, when he was in the twelfth year of his age, was subjoined by him to an appropriate sentiment which he had copied from Lord Bacon.

Friderick.

SOLITARY HOURS.

that it extends over the whole empire of intelligent existence, and is in active opera

No. XV.-On the Importance of Early tion for a time, but it will continue its work

Piety.

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THE importance of early piety may be farther argued, from a consideration of its advantages to society. Man is a social creature. He may, for a variety of purposes, occasionally prefer an hour or two of solitude; but there is a feeling within him, interwoven with his very being, which leads him to shudder at the contemplation of perpetual seclusion from the world. The highest delights of rational creatures consist in a reciprocal interchange of feeling and sentiment. Hence it is that men are so frequently drawn into each other's company and conversation; and the influence which one individual exerts on another, and through him on millions of his species, is utterly beyond all human calculation.

The most trifling imaginable deviation from the principles and practice of religion, may be attended with the most fatal consequences to the eternal interest of thousands. Even one single unguarded expression, which may have a tendency, in the estimation of some individual in whose hearing it is uttered, to throw discredit on religion, may be the unhappy means of estranging his affections from it, and, through his instrumentality, of proving detrimental to the souls of millions of others. That individual may, in the company of others, make religion the subject of merriment and ridicule, and the men who compose this company may, in their respective turns, imitate the pernicious example; and the train once lighted, will not be easily extinguished in the families, or among the acquaintances, of these individuals; but will spread with the rapidity of lightning, not only through our own country, but through every country and corner of the world. The contagion once commenced, no effort of human beings will be able to counteract it: the longer it operates, the greater will be its power of doing mischief; and ere the individual, with whom it originated, has become an inhabitant of another world, it may have produced consequences to the immortal interests of myriads, which, were we aware of them, would fill our minds with the most appalling contemplations. Nor is it merely

98.-VOL. IX.

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of moral destruction, until the heavens and the earth are involved in the universal conflagration. And O, who can compute the vast scene of moral mischief which may result from a cause, apparently so trivial, through the ages which may intervene betwixt this and eternity!

If, then, one single departure from the principles of religion, may be attended with consequences incalculably pernicious to the souls of myriads,-how painful the contemplation of that possible ocean of eternal misery, to which the conduct of the man may open the flood-gates, whose whole life is spent in acts of glaring impiety! Among the many important disclosures of eternity, which shall astonish, and fill the minds of the workers of iniquity with horror and remorse,-the knowledge of that measure of eternal wretchedness, which they were the means of diffusing among so many of their fellow men, will, in all probability, constitute the chief, and the unceasing and cutting reproaches with which they will be loaded by those who shall attribute their everlasting ruin to the influence of their precept or example, will undoubtedly be one of the most bitter ingredients in their cup of wo.

It will readily occur to the mind of the reader, that in proportion to the eminence of the station which a vicious character occupies in society, will be his power, 'and the probability of doing moral mischief. This power, however, is not confined to those who move in the higher ranks of life: it is possessed to an inconceivable extent by the most obscure individual in existence. The lowest menial, of vicious principles and practices, may cause the contagion of impiety to spread through her master's family. She may communicate her evil principles to some of her fellow servants who are a little above her; and this fellow servant may do the same to another domestic as far above her;-the example and precept of this latter individual may exert a similar influence on some other individual high in the confidence of her mistress, and she may communicate the contagion of vice to her husband and family;-she may transmit it to those somewhat more influential in society than themselves, and thus it may proceed from one step to another, until it has reached the highest and most influential personage in the empire.

Nor is it merely in reference to man's future existence, that impious precept or example is certain to be attended with the

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