monuments of Greek and Roman literature, which that eruption appeared to have irrecoverably destroyed! The history of the revolutions of the world ought to teach us an instructive lesson; nor can we, who have perused the manuscripts, and who have so often trodden the soil which covers the ruins of Herculaneum, easily fail to advert to it. At the period when this city was overwhelmed by the burning lava of Vesuvius, Rome was in the zenith of her glory; and an hundred provinces, from the confines of Ethiopia and Arabia to the mountains of Caledonia, flourished under the wise government and the gentle sway of the virtuous Titus. Ages have elapsed, since the mighty edifice of the Roman empire has crumbled into dust. A few ruins, which form a melancholy contrast with the modern temples and palaces which surround them, alone remain to point out the site, and to attest the former existence and ancient grandeur of the eternal city. No victor now ascends the Capitol, drawn in his triumphal car; and no Vestal watches by the sacred fire, which piety and patriotism had destined to burn for ever. There are few countries that have been distinguished more than our own, either in arts, or in arms; and during the present eventful times, amidst the wreck of empires, and the crash of falling thrones, we have still enjoyed the blessings of a free constitution, under the government of our long-tried and beloved Sovereign. Still, however, the philosopher must remember, that stability is not the lot of human institutions. While we develope the manuscripts of Herculaneum, and explore the literary treasures of mighty nations now no more, let us cast an eye to the future. Who can tell, whether the time may not come, when, after a clouded season, and a gloomy interval, the glories of English literature shall emerge from obscurity in some distant country, among the descendants of barbarians, who are at present the objects of our pity or our contempt? The wisdom of Egypt, the riches of Babylon, the commerce of Tyre, the arts of Greece, and the magnificence of Rome, have passed away; and can we believe that our own greatness is built on surer foundations? If the remote posterity of some savage nation shall be doomed to do for us, what we have done for the ancients, let not the restorers of our literature have to say, that their ancestors had been made the victims of our avarice; that when we conquered to enrich or aggrandize ourselves, we neglected to enlighten those who became subject to our power; and that we, who boasted of freedom in our own country, knew no other distinctions between our fellow creatures and ourselves in our colonies, than those of master and of servant, of tyrant and of slave. We have seen the importation of Negroes into the West Indian islands forbidden by an act of the legislature; and the abolition of this shameful traffic has in some degree atoned for its existence, and for the long and unworthy struggle which was made for its continuance. But do not the & dλ still form the principal part of the population of those islands? Do we in any of our colonies labour as we ought to do, to instruct the natives, and to ameliorate their situation? The time has been when the arts flourished on the banks of the Ganges; and there, in the opinion of many, the sun of science first rose on the nations of the earth. In the revolutions of the world India may again become the centre of power; the refluent tide may carry back with it the spoils which had been brought away from its shores; and after having made the circuit of the globe, Philosophy may return to the station, where her first-born sons were nurtured, and where her earliest lessons were taught and practised. From the ruins of Herculaneum we turn our anxious eyes to far-distant scenes; and we desire to believe that long ages hence, wherever we shall have left the monuments of our power, the proofs and the records will also remain, of our virtues, our knowledge, our generosity, and our beneficence. |
