1813.]

LORD WOODHOUSELEE'S DEATH.

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looked once more upon the hills, which he felt he was so soon to leave, and which he had loved so well. There was an influence in the scene which seemed to renew his strength, and he returned to town, and walked up the stairs of his house with more vigour than he had shewn for some time; but the excitement was momentary, and he had scarcely entered his study, before he sunk down upon the floor, without a sigh or a groan. Medical assistance was immediately procured, but it was soon found that all assistance was vain; and Dr. Gregory arrived in time only to close his eyes, and thus to give the final testimony of a friendship which, in the last words that he wrote for the press, Lord Woodhouselee had gratefully commemorated as having borne the test of nearly half a century.

"His remains were interred in the family burial-place in the Grey-Friars' Churchyard, beside those of his Father and Mother, to whose memory it was then found, that his filial piety had so exclusively dedicated it, that their epitaph occupied the whole of the tablet, and no room was left for any inscription to himself."

Let me conclude this chapter with an extract from the memorandum-book of the subject of the present Memoir, which will serve to connect him, as he well deserves to be especially connected, with the memory of his admirable Father. It was written on revisiting Woodhouselee in October, 1818,-almost six years after the date of his bereavement. "To be resigned, I trust through the grace of GoD and the mercy of my SAVIOUR, I have already taught myself; but to forget, is impossible. My heart must cease to beat, my memory become a blank, my affections wither, and my whole being change, before the love and goodness of my Father, and the uninterrupted happiness of our life when he

dwelt surrounded by his family in this earthly paradise, shall fade for a moment from my recollection. No-no. Woodhouselee will always be to me a word which calls up feelings that no other word can do; and in my meditations of what Heaven will be, I often feel myself mingling the recollections of earthly joys with the hopes of heavenly glories, and so holding out to myself as my best reward that I shall again meet my beloved Father; again be pressed to his bosom; and again wander with him through the groves which my fancy (I hope not profanely) paints like those in which we once lived."

1813.]

BEREAVEMENT.

81

CHAPTER V.

(1813-1814.)

P. F. Tytler's grief at the death of his Father-Public events-Opening of the Continent-A visit to Paris, in 1814-The Duke of Wellington-Marshal Blucher-Louis XVIII. and the Duchesse d'Angoulême at the Theatre-A Russian dinner-Anecdotes, personal and historical-Wellington-Platoff— Review of Russian and Prussian troops-Return to Scotland.

THE eclipse which my friend's happiness sustained by the event last recorded may be easily imagined. He was now 21 years of age. He was the only remaining unmarried son; and he lived at home. He had therefore become, in a manner, the staff of the family, and on him the burthen of grief most heavily fell. "It is indeed too true," (he wrote to his old tutor, Mr. Black, at the end of three months,) "that to me my excellent Father's death is quite irreparable; and that it has left a blank in my heart, which nothing earthly can supply. My brothers' affections were divided: they had wives and children; and, by previous separation, had been weaned from my Father. My affections were centred in him. I had no higher happiness than to see him smile on my studies: in all his literary labours he had the goodness to make me a sharer: my taste was moulded, my soul was knit to his; and from my infancy, till the moment he was taken from us, I was fostered in his bosom. Can you wonder then, that there are moments now in which I feel withered, like a plant that never sees the sun? Yet I comfort myself by thinking on the perfect happiness which is now enjoyed by that pure and sainted spirit, which has gone before us to Heaven. Animam

G

In

ejus ad cælum unde erat rediisse mihi persuadeo.”* truth, his legal studies at this period of his life were of so engrossing a nature as to afford him few opportunities for immoderate grief; while they effectually precluded that perpetual recurrence to the past in which the sting of bereavement chiefly lies; that incessant brooding over scenes which, in his own affecting language, " already seemed to him like a delightful dream, whose reality was hereafter to be found. in. Heaven."

But though he learned thus early the language of resignation, it will be seen by the extracts from his correspondence presently to be given, how very keenly he felt the loss of his Father, and how completely he was living in the past. A few days after the death of that beloved parent, he is found to have commenced a new common-place book; and on the first page of it he wrote the following memorandum, dated 14th January 1813:"On the Sunday after my dearest Father's death, my brothers and I went to chapel. In the first lesson, which was the xlivth of Isaiah, were these beautiful and most consoling words:-'Fear not, O Jacob, My servant, for I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground; I will pour My Spirit upon thy seed, and My blessing upon thine offspring; and they shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water courses.'

"How gracious was it in Almighty GOD, when our weak souls were almost sinking into despondency, to pour the balm of Hope and Consolation into our hearts by these prophetic and heavenly words!" . . . Thus piously did he turn the common events of every day into occasions of thankfulness, and helps to Religion. He comforted himself by extracting from the Prophets and the Psalms the most precious promises and sublime encouragements which he there met *To the Rev. John Black, April 5th, 1813.

1813.]

TYTLER'S LOVE FOR HIS FATHER.

83

with, and transcribing them into the little MS. volume above alluded to; while all his memoranda at this period shew that he was daily seeking for peace of mind where alone peace of mind is to be found.

To his friend Basil Hall, in the month of March, he wrote as follows:-" As for myself, you, who knew my Father, and saw us together in our days of happiness, will judge what I must now feel. To say I have lost a Father is nothing. I have lost my companion, and my first and dearest friend; one for whom my love was such, that I would rather have lost my right hand, than have given him a moment's uneasiness; and who loved me so well, that if he ever reproved me, it was with an affection and gentleness which made me love his reproof far better than others' praise. He had such modesty and goodness, that although I was so young, he always made me the companion, and often even the judge of his useful and constant labours; and by this familiar confidence, and the constant and affectionate interest with which he superintended my studies, my mind became so moulded and linked to his, and my whole happiness so wrapt up in trying to please him, that now that he is gone, I feel sometimes as if my own heart was rent from me.

"How often have I thought, what exquisite delight it would give me, should I ever arrive at any excellence in my profession, to plead before him to whose instruction and love I owed it all; and after these labours of the winter were finished, to enjoy in our sweet paradise at Woodhouselee all the happiness of leisure and domestic retirement! But GOD, in His wisdom, has judged that it should be otherwise; and doubtless, His purpose, who is all Goodness, must finally be good."

From the conclusion of the same letter it appears that the wish to preserve a written record of Lord Woodhouselee's honourable and virtuous career was so strongly felt by his