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, THE
BRITISH CRITIC
VOL. I.
PUBLISHED IN
OCTOBER AND JANUARY.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
J. MAWMAN, LUDGATE-STREET. 1826.
PREFACE.
The BRITISH CRITIC having now ceased as a Monthlj^ and commenced as a Quarterly Review, the Conductors think it their duty to annex to their New Series, a brief prefatory state- ment of the motives which have led to this alteration, and the advantages they hope to derive from it.
In the first place they are anxious distinctly to avow, that whatever changes or modifications this resolution may be sup- posed to bring with it, in the management or the materials of the work, there will be none whatever in those principles con- nected T^ith the Church or State, trhich have always beeil associated with the name of the British Critic, and to which they arc unquestionably indebted for much of the support they have received. To these principles they have unceashigly and conscientiously adhered through a long period of difficult)^ and struggle ; and they can have no motive for shrinking from them now, when the difficulty has been surmouhted, and the struggle has been crowned with success. On the contrary, the more they have seen and known of the effects of these principles, the more thoroughly are they convinced of their importance under every circumstance in which this country can be placed j and being satisfied, that times of tranquillity are most favour- able to public instruction and improvement, they are anxious to profit by the present unexampled state of prosperity, to diffuse them more widely, and to fix them more deeply in the public mind. This is the great object they have in view, in the altera- tion now announced ; and the following observations will explain the grounds upon which they have adopted it.
IV PREFACE.
When the British Critic first appeared, its Conductors adopted the plan of Monthly Publication, which was then in use ; and though they were early sensible of its disadvantages, yet so long as they suffered from them in common with their competitors, they had no reason to be dissatisfied with the share of public patron- age they enjoyed. Since that time, however, other works have entered upon their career, as candidates for public favour, with the marked distinction of more extended periods of publication; and notwithstanding the encouragement which the Editors of the British Critic continued to receive in the prosecution of their task, they were compelled to acknowledge that no circumstance* could compensate for the difficulties under which they laboured in this respect. Take what pains they might, there was always danger of inadvertency or confusion. Haste was unavoidable in every department of the work, in the composition of the articles, in the selection, arrangement, and digestion of them, and even in the printing and publishing. And when it is further considered how much the interest of the most important articles was liable to be diminished by their being cut down to suit the proportions of the work, it is no wonder that men of talent and reputation should have sometimes hesitated about contributing to a publication in which their labours were likely to appear with so little advantage. To remedy these evils, to bestow upon the works under review greater space, where it should be required, and in all cases more time for deliberation and inquiry ; to meet the growth of literary taste in the public mind with increasing means and resoiu'ces; in short, to render their Review more efficacious, interesting, and comprehensive ; and thus give to the principles they advocate, that place and prominence in public opinion, which they so eminently merit : — such are the advantages to which the Conductors look in their alteration, and 6uch the hopes they venture to hold out to their supporters.
Nor have they been wanting in those preparations and exer*
PREFACE.
tions which will be necessary to attain their object. In addition to their former Contributors, they have associated other persons in their labours,-men variously gifted and endowed, whose principles and talents well qualify them for the task, and afford the strongest confidence in the success of the intended plan. But, while the Editors thus avow their hope of placing the British Critic upon a level with the most popular of its contemporaries, they are by no means desirous of entering into competition with any. Tliey have already a line marked out, to which they mean faithfully to adhere. Criticism, not Dissertation, will be the main part of their labour. Theology will still be a leading feature of their work. Classical Learning and Science wiU occupy their proportioned places, but upon a greater scale ; and no department of Literature will be overlooked. In fine, their work, though a Quarterly Publication, will still be in essence, as well as name, the British Critic ; a Review undertaken and conducted upon British principles and for British objects, and consulting in its speculations the morals and religion of English- men, as much as their information and amusement.
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CONTENTS
OP
No. I.
Art. I. 1. A Visit to Greece, in 1823 and 1824. By George Wad- dington, Esq. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Author of " Travels in Ethiopia."
2. Narrative of a Second Visit to Greece, including Facts connected with the Last Days of Lord Byron, Extracts from Correspondence, Official Documents, &c. By Edward Blaquiere, Esq. Author of " The Origin and Progress of the Greek Revohition," &c.
3. The Songs of Greece, from the Romaic Text. Edited by M. C. Fauriel, with Additions. Translated into English Verse, by Charles Brinsley Sheridan.
4. The Last Days of Lord Byron: with his Lordship's Opinions on various Subjects, particularly on the State and Prospects of Greece. By Wm. Parry, Major of Lord Byron's Brigade, Commanding Officer of Artillery, and Engineer in the Service of the Greeks I
II. The Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn, Esq. F. R. S. &c. Now first collected, with occasional Notes, by William Upcott 25
III. Tlie Harmony of the Law and the Gos])el, with regard to the Doctrine of a Future State. By Thomas William Lancaster, M. A. Vicar of Banbury, and formerly Fellow of Queen's College, Ox- ford 49
IV. iEschyli Choephoroe. Ad fidem Manuscriptorum emendavit, Notas ct Glossarium adjecit Carolu& Jacobus Blomfield, S.TJP. Collegii SS. Trinitatis apud Cantabrigienses olim Socius . . 68
V. Tales of the Crusaders. By the Author of " Waverley," &c. 76
VI. An Essay on Dr. Young's and M. Champollion's Phonetic System of Hieroglyphics, with some Additional Discoveries, by which it may be applied to decipher the Names of the Ancient Kings of Egypt. By Henry Salt, Esq. F. R. S 87
CONTENTS.
YII. Letters to Charles Butler, Esq., on the Theological Parts of his Book of the Roman Catholic Church. By the Rev, H. Phillpotts, D.D 94
VIII. 1. Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, a Selection from the Papers of the late Arthur Austin.
2. The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay. By the Author of " Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life."
3. The Foresters. By the Author of "The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay," and the "Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life " . , 149
IX. Lectures on the Philosophy of Modern History. Delivered in the University of Dublin. By George Miller, D.D. M.R.I. A. Rector of Dorry\oylan, and late Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, and Lecturer on Modern History 164
X. Travels in Western Africa, in the Years 1818, 19, 20, and 21, from the River Gambia through WooUi, Bondoo, Galam, Kasson, Kaarta, and Foolidoo, to the River Niger. By Major William Gray and the late Staff-Surgeon Dochard ; with a Map and Plates. . . .176
XI. Sermons on Various Subjects. By the late Rev. Thomas Rennel, B.D. Vicar of Kensington, Prebendary of South Grantham, and Chaplain to the late Lord Bishop of Salisbury 210
XII. Account of the Life and Writings of Thomas Brown, M. D. late Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. By the Rev. David Welsh 238
XIII. 1. A Memoir on Refractive and Dispersive Powers, by M. Frauenhofer.
2. On a Monochromatic Lamp, &c., by Dr. Brewster. — On the Absorption of Light by coloured Media, by J. F. W. Herschel, Esq.
3. Some Account of the late M. Guinand, and his Improvements in the Manufacture of Glass . . . . . 263
XIV. Histoire de la Conqufite de I'Angleterre par les Normands, de ses Causes, et de ses Suites, jusqu'Ji nos Jours, en Angleterre, en Ecosse, en Irelande, et sur le Continent. Par Augustin Thierry. •—History of the Conquest of England by the Normans, with its Causes from the earliest Period, and its Consequences to the ptesent Time. Translated from the French of A. Thierry 274
CONTENTS
No. II.
* Art. X- Origines ; or Remarks on the Origin of Several Empires, ^States, gjid Cities. By the Right Honourable Sir W. Drummond.
Page 285
li.^ Flavii Cresconii Corippi Johannidos seu de bellis Libycis libri vii. editi ex codice Mediohinensi musei Trivultii, pper» et studio Petri Mazzucchelli, Collegii Ambrosiana Doctoris ...... 309
III. Classical Disquisitions and Curiosities, Critical and Historical. By Benjamin Heath Malkin, LL. D. and F. S. A. Head Master of Bury School 322
IV. 1. Travels in South America, during tlie Years 1819-20-21 ; containing an Account of the present State of Brazil, Buenos Ayres, and Chili. By Alexander Caldcleugh, Esq.
2. Narrative of a Journey across the Cordilleras of the Andes, and of a Residence in Lima and other Parts of Peru, in tlie Years 1823 ^nd 1824. By Robert Proctor, Esq 330
V. Reasons against the Repeal of the Usury Laws .... 847
VI. Memoirs of the Life of John Philip Kemble, Esq. By James Boaden, Esq ..,..,.... 365
VII. 1. Brief Observations on the present State of the Waldenses, and upon their actual Sufferings, made in the Sumiper of 1820. By George Lowther, Esq.
2. A Brief Narration of a Visit to the Vaudois in 1824.
3. Brief Memoir respecting the Waldenses, &c. the result of Observ- ations made during a short Residence amongst that interesting People, in th« Autumn of 1814. By a Clergyman of the Church of England.
4. Narration of an Excursion to the Mountains of Piedmont, &c. By the Rev. W. S. Gilly 378
VHI. Memorie Romane di Antichitk e di Belle Arti. . . , 391
CONTENTS.
IX. Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, Esq. F. R. S. Secretary to the Admiralty in the Reigns of Charles II. and James II., comprising his Diary from 1659 to 1669, deciphered by the Rev. John Smith, A. B. of St. John's College, Cambridge, from the original short- hand MS. in the Pepysian Library, and a Selection from his Private Correspondence. Edited by Richard Lord Braybrooke . . 400
X. 1. A Sermon, preached in the Church of Hatton, near Warwick, at the Funeral of the Rev. Samuel Parr, LL. D. in obedience to his own Request, March 14, 1825. And published at the Desire of the Executors and Friends assembled on that Occasion. By the Rev. S. Butler, D. D. F. R. S. &c. Archdeacon of Derby, and Head Master of Shrewsbury School.
2, A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Milner, occasioned by some Passages contained in his Book, entitled " The End of Religious Contro- versy." By the late Rev. S. Parr, LL. D 424
XI. Memoirs of the Life of the Right Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan. By Thomas Moore 436
XII. Travels among the Arab Tribes inhabiting the Countries East of Syria and Palestine, including a Journey from Nazareth to the Mountains beyond the Dead Sea, and from thence through the Plains of the Hauran, and, by the Valley of the Orontes, to Seleucia, Antioch, and Aleppo. By J. S. Buckingham, Member of the Literary Societies of Bombay, Madras, and Bengal .... 452
XIII. Eight Sermons preached before the University of Oxford, in the year 1825, at the Lecture founded by the late Rev. John Bampton, M. A. Canon of Salisbury. By the Rev. George Chandler, LL. D. late Fellow of New College ; Rector of Southam, Warwick- shire ; District Minister of Christ Church, St. Mary-le-bone, London ; and Domestic Chaplain to his Grace the Duke of Buc- cleuch and Queensberry 480
XIV. The Studies and Pursuits of the University of Cambridge stated and vindicated. By the Rev. Lathom Wainwright, M.A. 510
XV. Memoirs of Mr. William Veitch and George Brysson, written by themselves ; with other Narratives illustrative of the History of Scotland, from the Restoration to the Revolution : to which are added, Biographical Sketches and Notes. By Thomas M'Crie, D.D 525
Erratum. — In page 375, last line, for poem read poser.
prospectus
OF A
QUARTERLY SERIES
OP
THE BRITISH CRITIC.
tN annoiincifig that the British Critic has ceased as a Monthly^ and will be continued as a Quarterly Review, the Conductors think it their duty to state the motives which have led to this alteration, and the expectations which they have formed from it. In the first place they are anxious distinctly to avow, that whatever changes or modifications this resolution may be sup- posed to bring witli it, in the management or the materials of the work, there will be none whatever in those principles con- nected with the Church or State, which have always beea associated with the name of the British Critic, and to which, they are unquestionably indebted for much of the support they have received. To these principles they have unceasingly and conscientiously adhered through a long period of difficulty and struggle ; and they can have no motive for shrinking from them now, when the difficulty has been surmounted, and the struggle has been crowned with success. On the contrary, the more they have seen and known of the effects of these principles, the more thoroughly are they convinced of their importance under every circumstance in which this country can be placed j and being satisfied, that times of tranquillity are most favour- able to public instruction and improvement, they are anxious to profit by the present unexampled state of prosperity, to diffuse them more widely, and to fix them more deeply in the public mind. This is the great object they have in view, in the altera- tion now announced ; and the following oliscrvatious will Account for the step which they have taken ..
2
When the British Critic first appeared^ its Conductors adopted the plan of Monthly Publicationj which was then in use. It was by no means the best that might have been devised; but its disadvantages were common to every competitor ; nor had they any reason to be dissatisfied with the share of public patronage they enjoyed. Since that time, however, other works have entered upon their career, as candidates for public favour, with the marked distinction of more extended periods of publication ; and notwithstanding the encouragement which the Editors of the British Critic have received, in the prosecution of their task, they feel that no circumstances could compensate for the difficulties under which they laboured in this respect. Take what pains they might, there would always be danger of inadvertency or confusion. Haste there must be in every department of the work j in the composition of the articles, in the selection, arrangement, and digestion of them ; and even in the printing and publishing. And when it is further con- sidered, how much the interest of the most important articles was iiminished by their being cut down to suit the proportions of the work, we cannot wonder that men of knowledge and tolent, who like to see their compositions appear to the best advantage, should sometimes hesitate about contributing to such a publication. To remedy these evils, to bestow upon the works under review greater space, where it is required, and in all cases more time for mature deliberation and inquiry ; to meet the growth of literary taste in the public mind with increas- ing means and exertions ; in short, to render their Review more efficacious, interesting, and comprehensive j and thus give to the principles they advocate, that place and prominence in public opinion, which they so eminently merit : — such is the end which the Editors of the British Critic contemplate in the alter- ation they are about to make.
Nor have they been wanting in those preparations and exer- tions which will be necessary to attain their object. In addition to their former resources, they have associated other persons in their labours, — men whose principles and talents well qualify them for the task, and afford the strongest confidence in the
success of the intended plan. But, while the Editors thus avow their hope of placing the British Critic upon a level with the most popular of it& contemporaries, they are by no means desirous of entering into competition with any. They have already a line marked out, to which they mean faithfully to adhere. Theology will still be a leading feature of their work. Science and Classical Literature will not be overlooked. Criti- cism, not Dissertation, will be the main part of their labour. In a word, their work, though a Quarterly Publication, will still be in essence, as well as name, the British Critic , a Review undertaken and conducted upon British principles and for British objects, and consulting in its speculations the morals and religion of Englishmen quite as much as their information and amuse- ment.
It w requested that Communications respecting the Review be directed
to J. MaWMAN^ 39, LUDGAT£ STREET, LoNDON.
LONDOK : PRINTED BY A. APPLECATU, STAMf OBD-STREET.
THE
BRITISH CRITIC,
OCTOBER, 1825.
Art. I. — 1. A Visit to Greece, in 1823 and 1824. By George Waddington, Esq. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Author of " Travels in Ethiopia." Second edit. 12mo. 9*. Qd.
2. — Narrative of a Second Visit to Greece, including Facts connected with the Last Days of Lord Byron, Extracts from Correspondence, Official Documents, S^c. By Edward Bla- quiere, Esq. Author of " the Origin and Progress of the Greek Revolution," &c. 8vo. 12*.
3. — The Songs of Greece, from the Romaic Text. Edited by M. C. Fauriel, with additions. Translated into English Verse, by Charles Brinsley Sheridan. Small 8vo. 18*.
4. — The Last Days of Lord Byron : with his Lordship's Oj)i ^ nions on various Subjects, jmrticularly on the State and Prospects of Greece. By Wm. Parry, Major of Lord Byron's Brigade, Commanding Officer of Artillery, and Engineer in the Service of the Greeks. 8vo. 12*.
IN Italy and modern Greece, a man who anathematizes his neighbour, raises a heap of stones in the highway, and curses him ; every passenger is bovmd to add a stone and a curse to the common heap. Romans, Crusaders, Genoese, Venetians, and Turks, have each flung a stone and a curse on Greece. She has long since ceased to be the instructress of the world ; and, pre- vious to the present century, a few solitary travellers and classical scholars were the only persons who took an interest in her fate. In politics, warfare, and commerce, she was a dead letter.
The 4th of April, 1821, was the date of her present resuscita- tion. On that day, Patras was taken by the insurgents. On the 21st of the same month, Easter Sunday, the patriarch of Greece was hanged at his own doorway in Constantinople, dragged do>vn by Jews, with every species of indignity, to the sea, and thrown
VOL. I. B
2 ' Greece.
in. From that time, the contest has been carried on by the two parties with an unsparing sayageness, froni which modem warfare is generally exempt.
The eyes of Europe are once more on Greece. Every argu- ment and every sarcasm have been tried upon the different govern- ments, to draw them, or to goad them, to the assistance of their fellow Christians. But they have all kept aloof; and, however different their motives, however different the reason which has confined Russia to diplomatic threats, Austria to open denuncia- tion of the Greeks, and England to a strict neutrality — England, Austria, and Russia have received a liberal, and almost indiscri- minate, share of abuse.
Unhappily, the radical party in this country have taken up the cause of the Greeks. Every person who has dared to recommend the neutrality of the European governments, or presumed to whisper of a monarchy in Greece, or even to think of a censor- ship of the press there, has been branded with the imputation of political slavishness, or sneered at as the advocate of " legiti- macy" and the " Holy Alliance." Greece is made the watchword of a faction ; and a man's opinions on that country have almost become the criterion of his political partialities in this. Country gentlemen refuse to subscribe to Greece, from a fear of being con- founded Avith the reformers. The politicians in country towns shudder, as well they may, at the portentous name of Jeremy Bentham ; the clergy are alarmed at the intended disconnection of church and state in Greece ; and £ill of us are disgusted and fatigued with " annual elections," and '• universal suffrage," and " Lancasterian schools," and " Utilitarian societies," when Greece is still struggling for existence : — when the question is, not what constitution she is to have, (far less what minute modifications,) but whether she is to have any constitution or existence at all ? Yet these are the topics which occupied so much the attention of Colonel Stanhope, the representative of the Greek committee, and make his letters from Greece so dull and barren.
This party feeling has been industriously propagated ; and the consequence is, that we are deluged with accounts from Greece, while we still hunger and thirst for real information. One side will prove there have been more Turks killed in the Morea, in one campaign, than Turkey has equipped in five ; and the other can show that at Der\enaki, where the Turks lost nearly six thousand men, the loss of the Greeks was something less than the massacre at Manchester ! Even among the advocates of the same side, the reader will be shocked to observe how the information varies with the argument. Mr. Sheridan recommends the abandonment of Candia, because the Moslems are in number, to the Christians,
Greece. 3
as five to four.* Mr. Blaquiere urges its re-conquest, because they are less than as one to four.f
England has been loudly called on to take up arms for Greece, by her proverbial sympathy for the sufferings of freemen ; by her recollections of the past glories and wisdom of that injured country ; and, lastly, by the urgency of her own interest. But, in these days of diplomacy, sympathy, we fear, is an insufficient reason for hazarding the wealth and blood of the people ; and it is too late to preach a crusade against the Turks, because Athens has produced a Themistocles to banish, and a Socrates to poison.
The real questions are, whether, if once free, Greece will be capable hereafter, from its population and its own resources, of W2fl?'n^mwiw^ itself independent — ^>vhetherit be for the interests of England that it should be so — and whether the direct inter- ference of England would, or would not, promote that object.
Suppose Greece once set free — suppose it included and defined by those great natural boundaries, which seem intended to mark out a distinct state — suppose the Morea, Attica, Euboea, Boeotia, Phocis, Doris, Etolia, Acamania, Thessaly, Zagora, Albania, Epirus, the southern part of Macedonia, and the Cyclades, united in one compact and uniform government. This will embrace an area of about fifty-eight thousand square English miles, a space nearly equal to the extent of our own country, and including within it every ingredient for the formation of a wealthy, indepen- dent, and fonnidable state. A large part is high and mountain- ous, leaving about two-fifths of the soil capable of cidtivation. The plain extending from Gastouni to the neighbourhood of Patras, for a long time, above its own consumption, exported enough to supply the Ionian islands with the greater part of their provisions ; and the plains of Vostizza, Argos, and Tripolizza, are of great extent and fertility. The plains in the neighbour- hood of Larissa are probably as fertile as any land in Europe. In the best soils, and most favourable seasons, the returns of wheat are in the proportion of eighteen to one to the seed ; and the average is calculated to be not lower than ten to one, notwithstanding the wretched system of agriculture now in use. In many parts of Greece, they are obliged to counteract the ex- cess of richness in the land, by constantly turning in their flocks, and feeding down the young crops. In 18(X), it was estimated that the total value of corn exported from Greece amounted to above eight hundred thousand pounds sterling. The mountains support vast numbers of sheep and goats. The Morea alone is
♦ Pref. p. xlviii. \V.\QO,
b2
4 Greece.
calculated, by Pouqueville, to produce, annually, tvVelve thou- sand eight hundred quintals (one million live hundred thousand pounds) of wool. In 1809, the cotton exported from Greece was above the value of one million sterling. Attica yields, annually, above two million pounds of oil, and the Morea five millions and a half. The other products consist of currants, madder, honey, bees-wax, timber, tobacco, &c. In 1809, the total value of the exports was estimated at nearly two millions and a half ster- ling. It is true, that the interference and extortions of their Turkish masters prevented any thing but a small proportion of this amount returning to the producers, but we are now only considering what would be the wealth of Greece, provided she were permitted to take care of herself. The revenue exacted from Greece by the Porte, arising from the capitation tax, com- mercial imports, &c. was about one million sterling ; double of which was drawn from the pockets of the people, paying ample toll, in every intermediate stage of its progress, from the collect- ors to the treasury. The harbours of Greece are numerous, safe, and spacious ; and some of them, as Navarino, Vivari, &c. will bear comparison with the best in Europe. It is difficult to make a correct estimate of the population. Prince Mavrocordato, from the amount of the poll tax, put the numbers of the insurgent population at two millions. Mr. Waddington's supposition is the lowest we have hitherto seen. He supposes the insurgents to be under one million, giving one hundred and fifty thousand to east and west Greece, two hundred and fifty thousand to the independ- ent islands, and five hundred thousand to the Morea. But, taking the wide surface, which we have before assumed as the hypothetical extent of independent Greece, confining our numbers within Mr. Waddington's, for those districts he men- tions, and adopting the most respectable authorities for the rest, we may safely reckon the population of Greece at nearly three millions. Now, if Greece, besides the support of her own legiti- mate inhabitants, has been able to send so much of her wealth to Constantinople, to minister to the ostentation of Pachas, Beys, and the whole official spawn of Ottoman grandeur, and to feed the rapacity of all the menials that swarmed about the Turkish authorities, it is clear, that when this foreign drain, and these unnatural and unprofitable channels of consumption are stopped, the resources of the country will be adapted to a great increase of population. A second and still greater cause of increased wealth will be found in the removal of the numberless difficulties, the diffi- dence, the harassing imposts, and the insecurity, which paralyzed the industry of the country under the Turks, and were absolutely incompatibFe with the health of the producing powers of the
Greece. 5
country. This will admit a second increase in the populatiort, and the two causes united (or rather the cessation of the two pre- ventives) will make room for a population sufficient to work the full powers of the country, to support a commerce which may rival almost any nation in Europe, and a military force which may ensure the respect of its neighbours.
It is important, too, to remark, that this increase of population will not have to wait the slow operation of natural causes, but will be speedily ensured by the emigration of the Greelcs of Con- stantinople, of the Turkish islands, and of the coasts of Asia Minor ; and that without the usual distress consequent on sudden additions of inhabitants ; for the first of the causes which we have mentioned above is instantaneous, and admits of an imme- diate and artificial addition to the population.
In point of climate, there is, perhaps, no country in the world, which, in so small a space, affords such singular and sudden vari- eties of temperature. At Tripolizza, you may wrap yourself in cloaks, and shrink from the snow, and a few hours' ride will bring you to sunshine, and fruits, and cloudless skies, at Argos. An increase in elevation affects the climate, like an increase of latitude, and the high plains of Greece have as permanent and obvious a difference of atmosphere from that of the low grounds, as we find at great intervals in other parts of Europe, wliere the elevation of the face of the country is more uniform. This variety of climate is, of course, the mother of variety in production. Many of the low lands are swampy and unhealthy ; but we have seen, in Germany and Holland, such prodigious effects produced on the climate by draining and embanking, that when capital has been allowed to accumulate, Ave have no reason to fear that the evil will remain. The government will start with ample funds at its disposal, (continuing the supposition, that Greece is free and at peace.) Mr. Blaquiere has estimated the national domains, for- merly occupied by Turks, and arising from forfeitures, &c. at four-fifths of the whole country: " And this property," he says, " of which the value is incalculable, consists of lands, olive plant- ations, forests, principally of oak, and ash, and fir; salt pits, fisheries, public buildings, gardens, villas ,&c." p. 124.
Mucli has been said of the national character of the Greeks : and every traveller and essayist have so accurately and nicely par- ticularized their habits, stature, temper, features, talents, and activity, that one might fancy all Greeks alike. But there is no question more difficult than that Avhich relates to national charac- ter. Such character is not a fixed and defined habit : it is the result of national institutions, quite as much as the cause of them. Climate has a certain effect on the body, and the body an un-
6 Greece,
doubted connection with the mind. This effect is the only permanent ingredient in national character. A Laplander will differ from an African, as long as Africa and Lapland exist. But we have only to look to the history of past times, to perceive the Greeks alternately assuming every possible shade of character we can conceive ; and this is sufficient proof that the habitual im- perfections of the present Greek character can be no obstacle to their eventual weight in the scale of nations. This, then, is the last step in the demonstration of the capabilities of Greece — her intrinsic capabilities of becoming an independent and formidable nation — of becoming something more than a political plaything in the hands of the great European powers. What line of action, and what form of constitution will be most likely to effect this independence, and ensure its duration, Ave may best conjecture from the actual state of the contest, the parties and present resources of the country, and the relations of the foreign powers who are steadily watching the result. We propose, therefore, to extract some information on the subject, from the works whose titles are prefixed to the head of this article, and to give some account of the works themselves.
Mr. Blaquiere was a representative of the Greek committee. Of all the Phil-hcllenists, he is the least tinged with that exclusive party feeling, which has disgusted so many well-wishers to Greece. He seems a zealous, indefatigable, good-natured friend of the cause. He goes bustling about from place to place, doing all the good he can, conciliating all parties, and endeavouring to excite them. His book is written in a plain, intelligible style. He tells a straight-forward story, and troubles himself very little about Jeremy Bentham.
We gladly step aside with him from political squabbles, and amuse ourselves with local peculiarities. The following is an ac- count of the fishing in the shallow waters, between Messolunghi and Anatolica ; and the reader must, for the novelty, excuse the insertion : —
" The diver being- provided with a rope, made of a species of long grass, and which floats near the surface, has only to moor his canoe where he knows there is a rocky bottom ; this done, he throws the rope out so as to form a tolerably large circle ; and such is the timid nature of the fish, that, instead of rushing out, it never attempts to pass this imaginary barrier, which acts as a talisman, but instantly descends, and endeavours to conceal itself under the rocks. Having waited a few moments, till the charm has taken effect, the diver plunges downwards, and not unfrequently returns with four or five fish, weighing from two to six pounds each. As they seldom find more than the heads concealed, there is the less difficulty in bringing forth their rich prizes ; and when the harvest is good, the divers are
Greece. 7
So dexterous, that they have a method of securing three or four fish under each arm, besides what they can take in their hands. My in- formant added, as a very curious fact, that only one accident had happened, within his remembrance, to those who pursued this appa- rently perilous mode of fishing ; and it only arose from the diver's arm being entangled under some of the apertures of the rocks." Part II. p. 42.
Mr. Blaquiere disclaims all pretensions to a classical tour, but he frequently turns from his political path to contemplate the antiquities of Greece, and speaks with considerable feeling and taste of what he sees: but he is too easy in admitting the classical information of his friends, and we can hardly forgive his being so satisfied and pleased with the suggestion, that the village of Tri- sonia, on the north coast of the gulf of Lepanto, is the old TrfEsene, Avhich so hospitably received the Athenian fugitives in the days of Xerxes. An unhappy conjecture which almost wants the supposition of the Athenian ships sailing over the Isthmus of Corinth to support it ! But the most serious point on which we have to quarrel with Mr. Blaquiere, (and the only one,) is a passage in his preface, which makes us suspect that he, too, may have assisted in keeping us in our notorious ignorance of the dark spots on the story of Greece, for fear of injuring the cause of the emancipation. A most inadequate reason for so grave a fault, " Such have been," he says, " the motives for my not dwelling on those errors of judgment, and defects of national character, inseparable from every people, who are long exposed to a despotic system of government. The course which has been adopted by so many others, cannot be too much deprecated ; for if the defects of a people are ever to be exposed, it is not surely when they are struggling for existence." p. vi.
It is due to Lord Byron to say, that he was constantly decry- ing every attempt to keep the people of England in ignorance of a single falling off in Greece, and asserting and exercising his resolution of making his countrymen acquainted with the black and white parts of the picture ; that they might fully know for whom, and for what they were risking their fortunes in loans, or exhausting it in subscriptions. If Greece stood alone, it might be invidious in a foreigner to trumpet her defects ; but when England has been made a party concerned, by the voluntary and benevolent embarkation of her capital in the contest, she has a right to as full, undisguised a picture of things, as if she were on the spot. Lord Byron's earnest opposition to the system is evi- dence of its existence. It is also too clear, that the Greeks have had most exaggerated accounts of the English enthusiasm in their favour, and both parties have been thus kept in studious ignorance
8 Greece.
of their reciprocal feelings. When Lord Erskine's letter to the Greeks had been read to the assembly at Messolunghi, Colonel Stanhope " took the opportunity of mentioning to them, that what they had just heard was the unanimous sentiment of the people of England."* Whereas, beautiful and eloquent as his lordship's letter is, there are many passages to which the majo- rity of the people would not Avillingly subscribe. The mischief of this is, that while the Greeks are taught that the whole popula- tion of England is red-hot in the cause, they have some difficulty in accounting for the limited assistance they have received. Their admiration of us has consequently cooled, and is confined entirely to our money. " As to England," says Waddington, " notwith- standing occasional compliments with which I am flattered, on the liberality of our institutions and sentiments, I cannot per- ceive any great desire to court our protection, or any great pre- ference for our character. The only key to their affections is the loan. They ask neither for our counsels, nor our hospitals, nor our officers, nor our Lancasterian schools." p. 154.
Mr. Sheridan's translations are only valuable for the historical songs Avhich compose the first part of the collection. They give a picturesque image of the life and exploits of the Klephts— a race of men, whose name is derived from the predatory warfare they have, in all ages, waged against their oppressors. From their mountain fastnesses, they have never ceased to plunder and massacre their persecutors ; and from this has been deduced a fanciful continuance of Greek independence, from the earliest times of the Ottoman invasion, of Avhich the present insurrection is but a broad assertion. It is suggested, in short, that the pre- sent contest is not a rebellion, but the continuation of a defence : a far-fetched notion ! for the Klephts were a small distinct class, chiefly inhabiting the mountains of Thessaly, and scarcely known on the scene of the present struggle. The argument is probably framed to meet the objection of the modern school of " legiti- macy."
Few of the poems contain any striking merit ; but, amidst much common-place, there is a fine strange thought in " The Tomb of the Klepht." The dying warrior is giving directions to his children to build his tomb : we subjoin some lines of the original, and the translation.
" Erect my tomb — but broad and high !
That when I hear the Moslem's battle-cry,
I may have space to raise my mould'ring corse.
* Letters from Greece, in 1823 and 1824. By Col. L. Stanhope, p. 38.
Greece,
And leave a window — let the swallows bring
My earliest tidings of returning spring.
And nightingales in May come nestling there and sing
P. 21.
" Ka^ttcTc TO Kifiovpt fiov jrKarv, -^tjXov va r^evrj, Na mcK opOo^ va TroXefiu), Kal oiTrXa va i^efu^w, Kt' (iTrh TO fiepo<! to Cc^l d(f)rjenc irapaOvpi, Ta ■)(^f\ico'via va 'p^ivvrai, ti^i» avoi^iv va (pepovv, Kai t' atfCovia lov KaXov Ma?/f va /i,e ^a^atvovv."
There is something fanciful in the 17th song, p. 111. A Greek lady, whose father and husband have fallen in battle, lies sleep- ing. Her attendants, afraid to disturb her abruptly, to impart the fatal intelligence, awaken her with perfumes.
We cannot forbear extracting a long note from Mr. Sheridan's work. It contains the story of a mountain warrior, and is a fair and full specimen of that singular race of men : —
" Katzantoni was a native of Agrapha, and one of those wandering ^ shepherds, who, in summer, drive their flocks to the highest summit of the various branches of Pindus, and in winter descend to the sea coast, or the plains. Th^ greedy disposition of AH Pacha pursued these poor and harmless tribes into their mountain wilds, confiscating their numerous flocks, invading their pastures, and heavily taxing their little pastoral wealth. Katzantoni and his brothers suffered peculiarly from these oppressions ; but when he talked of turning Klepht, the brutal Turks and Albanians only ridiculed his gentle voice, his small stature, and his feeble appearance. In him, however, as in Zisca, the soul of a hero was lodged in a diminutive body. He sold his flocks ; burnt his tents and cabins ; assumed the dress and arms of a Klepht ; and, though at first only joined by his brothers, soon collected an intrepid body of companions, with whom he esta- blished himself in the Thessalian part of the Agraphian mountains. Long did he defy the whole power of AH Pacha; and, of all his ex- ploits, the death of Veli Guekas was the most famous."
" The proudest period in the life of Katzantoni was his appearance, in 1806, at Santa Maura, from whence the Russians, who then held the Ionian islands, were, as usual, endeavouring to seduce the Greeks into revolt; that they might, as usual, exculpate themselves in the eyes of the Porte, by subsequently deserting their victims. They had summoned the attendance of those Klephtic captains, on whose co- operation they placed the greatest reliance ; and among these, Kat- zantoni was honourably conspicuous by the universal deference paid him, and by the contrast between his diminutive size, and the splen- dour of his dress, and noble haughtiness of his demeanour; but this gratification of vanity was dearly purchased, for he was attacked by the small-pox, the remains of which, not even the beloved breath of his native mountains, to which he returned on his convalescence, could dissipate. In 1807, this lingering disease became more op-
It) Greece.
pressive, and he was confined, by sickness, in a monastery oh Mount Pindus. Fearful of drawing down the vengeance of the Albanian Phalaris on his hosts, he removed, languid and feeble, to a cave in the neighbourhood, nursed only by his brother George, and supplied with daily provisions by an old woman. Either the woman or the monks betrayed him to Ali Pacha, who instantly despatched sixty Al- banians, with orders to bring Katzantoni and his brother, alive! George, on casually leaving the cavern, found the sixty barbarians blocking its mouth ; he returned, told his sick brother, placed him on his shoulders, grasped his sabre with his teeth, and his gun in his hand. Thus encumbered, he regained the mouth of the cavern, shot the foremost Albanian, and dashed off towards a neighbouring forest: the Albanians pursued ; he laid down his living burthen upon the ground, and with his sabre killed a second Albanian. Thus, flying and fighting alternately, he had already killed or wounded several ; when the others, furious with shame, rushed on in crowds, and at length secured the two brothers. They were carried to Yanina, and condemned to have their lower limbs crushed by blows from a mallet. The sentence was executed in the great square of Yanina, by a nephew of Veli Guekas, and before an immense crowd of Turks ; who endea- voured, by taunts and curses, to aggravate the sufferings of the two victims. Katzantoni, enervated by a long sickness, shrieked when the mallet began to crush his knees ; George only said, ' Katzantoni, will you cry like a woman ?' and never uttered a groan while his limbs were pounded, from the hip to the heel."
The first of the " Romantic Ballads" is Avild and pretty. We give the greater part : —
" Over a bridge went a desolate bride. Singing so sweetly, — the arch opened wide, And the stream listen'd and stopped on its way, Until its spirit rose dripping with spray : ' Sing no more, lady, so thrilling an air ; Sing something gayer, or sing no more there.' ' How can I sing in a livelier tone. Leaving my husband, and wand'ring alone ?'" &c. p. 126.
In p. 151, there is a Greek edition of " Young Lochinvar." It is tolerably well tokl, but far inferior to " Lady Heron's Song."
The " domestic songs" are chiefly remarkable for two or three specimens of grossness, with far grosser notes by Mr. Sheridan.
The most valuable part of the work ought to have been the preface. We say ought to have been, because it embraces a sketch oftheafiairs, and enters into the leading topics connected with the regeneration of Greece. But the enthusiasm which leads Mr. Sheridan to believe any thing of his heroes, has robbed his preface of the air of authenticity, and his arguments of the power of convincing. The following exploits look better in a romance than in a matter-of-fact essay. " By daylight, they
Greece. 11
could strike an egg, or even send a ball through a ring of nearly
the same diameter, at a distance of two hundred paces. Niko-
Tzaras could jump over seven horses standing abreast ; and others could clear, at one leap, three waggons filled with thorns, to the height of eight feet." p. xxvi. We fearlessly appeal to any of our practical readers. — We will give a specimen of Mr. Sheridan's arguments, from p. xliii. He combats the payment of tribute by the Greeks, as the price of their independence ; be- cause, he says, the Turks possess only Modon, Coron, l^panto, and Patras, in the disputed country ; and the cession of these places is too unimportant a consideration. " Modon and Coron," he argues, " are places exceedingly unimportant ; situated on the opposite coasts of its south-western promontory, they are de- tached from the body of the Morea, and are neutralized, as means of hostility, by the vicinity of Navarino and Calaraata. Indeed, there can be little doubt that dilatory and helpless as the Greeks are in sieges, they would have long since taken them, had they thought the object worth the expense. Lepanto, a place of great consequence, is now on the point of being amicably ceded by the Albanians. Patras, too, is said to be on the point of yielding." Alas ! how unhappily have events disproved all this. Modon and Coron, instead of being neutralized by Navarino and Calamata, have been the gateways of their ruin ; and the forces poured through them into Greece, have overrun and plundered half the Morea. Patras and liCpanto have continued, and still are, in the possession of the Turks. After all, Mr. Sheridan's preface is clever and instructive ; and the songs are interesting, if they were nothing but specimens of the remaining genius of Greece.
Of Mr. Parry's book we would willingly say as little as possible, because we believe it will come into the hands of few of our rea- ders, and make a very short stay there : but as the work bears the name of a man who was for some time in close attendance on Lord Byron, an unwary inquirer may be betrayed into reading part of this work ; and we will therefore furnish him with a few reasons for saving his time and steering clear of Mr. Parry's essay. In one single page of the preface (p. ix.) we have the author and Lord Byron tied in friendly sympathy in the following expressions: ''His exertions and mi/ exertions" — "justice to Lord Byron and to me" — " accusations injurious both to Lord By- ron and mi/self;" and in two other phrases in the same page his lordship and Mr. Parry are placed in close apposition. From this display of intimacy with the self-exiled bard, the reader will hardly discover who Mr. Parry is. He was employed by the Greek committee to superintend a laboratory, and assist in the
12 * Greece.
formation of a brigade of artillery for ilie' assistance of the Greeks : he received a command in Lord Byron's brigade, and after his lordship's death the Greek committee, dissatisfied with him and his accounts,* turned him to the right about ; and his present work is an attack upon them and Colonel Stanhope. The title- page, and a few chapters in the beginning, are placed in the van to cover the attack. We have no wish to take up the cudgels in their behalf, differing as we do, toto coelo, from them in many points ; and, had Mr. Parry attacked them where they are really vulnerable, with candour, or even with logic, we should have left the combatants to themselves. But when a man publishes opi- nions on Greece, and abuses every body, and ' every thing in his neighbourhood, we expect that he should have some qualifica- tions to fit him for the first, and truth and consistency to bear him out in the last. Mr. Parry was originally a shipwright, speaks no tongue but English, (p. 113,) and the following extract Avill put the public in possession of his literary success in that language : —
" ' However high,' said I, ' your lordship and others may come, you will never quite reach Billy,' (Shakspeare.) ' There you are quite right, old boy ; but do you never read any modern book ?' ' Oh, yes ; I have read some of your works; " Don Juan" for example, and there is nothing in that which pleasae people of my description so Avell, or of which I have heard so much, as the Shipwreck ; that is something we mechanics and the working classes understand. Just before I left England, too, I read a book I liked very much ; it was called " Wat Tyler.'" ' That's Southey's,' said his lordship." p. 221.
But there are a series of letters in his appendix which are en- titled " illustrative letters," (p. 345,) to which we refer any of our readers for illustration of the author's style. These are gems in their way. More ludicrous grammatical errors we have never seen in a decent type. Really, no three lines together are gram- mar. Every second sentence is dislocated syntax ; and every third is a compound fracture. From these letters, and the ap- pearance of French quotations in the work, we suspect that some literary friend has compiled Mr. Parry's book ; but Mr. Parry is little indebted to the grammatical accuracy of a man who talks about •* setting down with Mr. Benlham's clerks," (p. 197,) " this three hundred and forty pounds," (p. 66,) and " unless the wages is previously paid," (p. 313,) &c.
* Mr. Parry's arrival in Greece is triumphant ; and when he gets into the artillery brigade, he exclaims, (p. 31,) " I am quite sure, though I say it, that there was nobody else on the spot so well
* Stanhope's Letters, pp. 215—224. Blaquicre's Second Visit, pp. 56 — 68 , Second Part.
Greece. 13
acquainted with this branch of the service as I was, or who more deserved the appointment." He finds Lord Byron restless, and surrounded with trifling friends, and pities him. " I felt a very great respect for him, mingled with something like pity." (p. 23.) Excellent ! " He felt much relieved, by at last finding a practical man near him in whom he could confide," " In fact, his lordship was tired with the frivolity and unmeaningness of pretended wits, and would-be distinguished men, and was glad to meet with a plain, practical man." pp. 25, 29.
From Mr. Parry's own book we will give our readers some speci- mens of inconsistency and contradiction, so grave and unaccount- able, that we confess our own confidence in the author has been much shaken. The highest testimony in his favour is that from Count Gamba's narrative, adopted in Mr. Parry's title-page :— . " Lord Byron awoke in half an hour. I wished to go to him, but I had not the heart. Mr. Parry went, and Byron knew him again, and squeezed his hand, and tried to express his last wishes." (Count Gamba's Narrative.) Yet, by a strange and impolitic inconsistency, he has laboured hard to disprove the authenticity of Count Gamba's narrative, and says, that he (Count Gamba) was actually confined to his room in another part of the town, for two or three days, at the most critical part of Lord Byron's illness, p. 111.
But how shall we reconcile the following circumstances. Im- mediately before Lord Byron's death, Mr. Parry was taken so ill as to be " scarcely sensible of what was passing around " him. (p. 135.) Lord Byron died in the evening of the 19M of April, and Mr. Parry's illness continued so strong on him, that on the 2].st he left Messolunghi. Having thus been but little more than a day at Messolunghi after his Lordship's death, his health de- cayed, and almost insensible to all around him, Mr. Parry apolo- gizes for his personal ignorance of what took place immediately subsequent to Lord Byron's death : " 1 can scarcely say that I was a witness even of what occurred at Messolunghi, for I was confined to my chamber." (p. 136.) For this reason, he gives, from Count Gamba's narrative, and other sources, a detail of events after that period. Imagine, then, our surprise, when we find him, in p. 140, picturing himself in all the bustling reality of an executor, or auctioneer, with Count Gamba, and another, turn- ing over Lord Byron's effects, taking inventories, and dilating com- placently on the poetic contents of the papers — on the very day after the unhappy event : and this too at a time when he was scarcely sensible of any thing around him, and confined to his chamber, and obliged to trust to others for an account of the guns which were fired in honour of his lordship.
t4 Greece,
But Mr. Parry was not only able, when confined to his cham- ber, and almost insensible, to transact the business of an executor, but has felt himself at liberty, as if he had really been present at every minute of Lord Byron's illness, and witnessed every stage of his disease, to abuse every measure adopted by the physicians, and declare his " conviction, that he might have been saved, had he had with him one sensible and influential friend." (p. 110.) This is a most unlucky passage. Colonel Stanhope and Mr. Trelawney were absent. Mr. Parry was in Messolunghi. — It seems he was not *' a sensible or influential friend."
But if Mr. Parry has unreasonably vaunted his intimacy with Lord Byron, it is but justice to say he has as carefully proved the contrary in other pages of his work. As Lord Byron's illness increased two new physicians were called in, (p. 140,) but had great difficulty in guiding his lordship. " And I," says Mr. Parry, " who was comparatively a stranger to lord Byron, was obhged tq enforce the physician's recommendation." (p. 126.) " I do not know that it is possible to give a stronger proof of lord Byron's want of confidence in his medical men." (lb.) The argument is this : — 1 am Lord Byron's confidential friend : but he places na confidence in his new physicians ; because he even places more in me, who am a comparative stranger to him.
So much for Mr. Parry : we recommend him to return in tran- quillity to his profession. He was never intended for an historian. He has endeavoured to assume the air of an injured partisan, but he has only caught the tone of a sour, grumbling workman, dis- satisfied with his wages. He that would print his letters should write grammar, and he that would attack every body about him should keep himself immaculate.
We turn with pleasure to Mr. Waddington — every page of whose book bears the stamp of a scholar, a gentleman, and a man of the world. Attached to no party, he has passed through Greece gathering facts and opinions ; and his little work presents at once an outline of the present revolution, a faithful sketch of characters and things, and a dispassionate and philoso- phical analysis of the interests of Greece and the method of ad- V/ancing them. In these days of anatomy, every one is ashamed of his heart; — no one dares give vent to his feelings without fencing them with a sneer, or qualifying them with a joke. Mr. Waddington's talents have raised him above this ; — and he gives a manly and beautifid expression to his anticipations and regrets : he dares to weep over Greece, and confess his feelings.
The Hetaria, a secret society framed in 1802, and remodelled in 1814, for the advancement of the liberation of Greece, is sug- gested by Mr. Waddington as the main spring of the present
Greece. 16
struggle. He has furnished a minute account of its objects and ceremonies ; and we give our readers the concluding part of the initiatory oath — " an exquisite adjuration:" in Mr. Waddington's words, '• Poetry has produced little to equal it ; liberty, piety, and patriotism will never surpass it."
"■ Tfc^o? TTUujwv, opKt'^ofiai elt 'Effe, w lepa Koi dOXia Tarpii, opKi^ofiai eh Tous 7ro\vxpoPiov9 Paaavovf, opKi^ofiai J<9 ra iriKpa BaKpva t« oTTOia Toffovi aiwva'} c-)^vaav ra laXaiTrwpa tcKva aov, c<9 t« itixa fiov Baxpva, rA Siroia "^^vvui auT'^u r^v OTtyff^v' cts ttjv fieWovaav e\cv6epiav twv o/nor'jevwu uov, on u(})iepwvo^iai S\o<i cU 'EffG : on en to e^ij^ 2u 0e\ei9 civat ^ airi'a Kal o okotto^ iwv ciaKoriia^tnv fiov, to ovo^a aov o^rjyo^ t&v ■jrpn^cwv fiov, koi y EvTvxt<'- 2ow y avTafioifi'^ twi/ kottwv piov. Intro- duction, p. xxix.
Mr. Waddington begins at Constantinople, collecting from eye-witnesses, and contemporary journals, a narrative of the chief incidents in the war — and these little histories will give the reader a better notion of the nature of the contest, and the resources of the parties, than a more continuous and succinct detail. After the well-known massacre at Scio, the wretched remnants of the population were carried to Constantinople to be sold : —
" The continued sale of the Sciot captives led to the commission of daily brutalities. On June the 19th, an order came down to the slave-market for its cessation, and the circumstances which are be- lieved to have occasioned that order are extremely singular, and purely oriental. The island of Scio had been granted many years ago to one of the sultanas,* as an appropriation, from which she derived a fixed revenue, and title of interference in all matters relating to police and internal administration. The present patroness was Asma Sultana, sister of the sultan ; and that amiable princess received aljout two hundred thousand piastres a year, besides casual presents from her flourishing little province ; when she was informed of its de- struction her indignation was natural and excessive, and it was directed of course against Valid, the Pacha who commanded the fort, and the Capudan Pacha, to whose misconduct she chiefly attributed her mis- fortune. It was in vain that that officer selected from his captives sixty young and beautiful maidens whom he presented to the service of her highness. She rejected the sacrifice with disdain, and continued her energetic remonstrances against the injustice and illegality of reducing Rajahs to slavery, and exposing them to sale in the public markets. The sultan at length yielded to her eloquence, or her importunity ; a license, the occasion of hourly brutalities, was sup- pressed, and we have the satisfaction of believing that this act of rare and unprecedented humanity may be attributed to the influence of a , Foman." p. 19.
• That is, a sister, cousin, or aunt of the reigning monarch.
hL
16 Greec6.
Passing through Psara, (before its frightful fall,) Mr. Wadding- ton is struck at the contempt, even unreasonable, in which the Turks are invariably held by their late slaves. " Your batteries are not too powerful," he remarked to one of the authorities. " Sono buone contr' i Turchi.," was the reply. " What need," said the Samians, in a dispute with the Psarians, " what need have we of Hydriotes, or Psarians, or Spezziotes to assist us in our struggle against the Turkish empire ?"
From Athens we have an account of the struggles and sufferings of that unhappy neighbourhood. Thebes, lying in the very door- way of Greece, has been completely destroyed, and Boeotia laid waste.
During the Easter of 1821, the " Resurrection of the Athe- nians " was proclaimed by loud shouts of " Xpiaro^ ai/eVr^," — " Christ is risen from the dead," the watchword of the insurgents; the walls were scaled, the town occupied, and the Turks driven into the Acropolis. On the approach ofOmer Brioni, Pacha of Yanina, the inhabitants of Athens once more, like their ancestors, took refuge in Salamis, A few of the old and children remained, and were of course butchered. From Athens began the " Greek hunts," which were continued with unrelenting savageness, even after the departure of the Pacha had left the garrison with a diminution of numbers that might have taught them prudence. A party of shepherds broke in on one of these " man hunts," on the banks of the Cephissus, and slaughtered most of the party. The Athenians returned from Salamis, and recommenced the siege of the Acropolis. The night of the 24th was fixed for the assault : —
" The ladders were applied near the south-west of the extremity of the exterior wall ; the Greeks mounted in silence and unobserved ; they advanced with speed and caution, and had already passed the tekay, or chapel of the dervishes, and were approaching- the inner gate which leads immediately into the Acropolis, when they surprised a Turkish sentinel. They seized him, and made him the most solemn promises of life and recompense on condition of his silence ; but whether this brave man was diffident of Greek sincerity, or whether he preferred the death of a soldier and a mussulman to an act of cowardly and impious treachery, he made no other answer to their solicitations than a loud shout, which announced to his countrymen, that ' the Giaours were approaching !' He had no time to repeat this warning, for he was already hacked in pieces by the attaghans of the enemy ; but the Turks were alarmed by the tumult thus excited, and roused themselves just in time to close the gate and save the citadel. On the other hand, the Greeks kept possession of the out- works thus obtained, which were chieflyof importance as they included the space containing the well." p. 55.
Greece. 17
The siege was continued with singular want of skill, and was terminated, as many still think, by the special interference of Providence : —
" From the night in which the well was taken, to the 22d of the following June, the day of their capitulation, the garrison, amounting, in the first instance, to about sixteen hundred persons, with many horses and beasts of burden, had no other supply of water than that fiirnished by the cisterns of the citadel ; and even this, in their certain expectation of the usual rains, they had consumed with little economy. In the mean time, the winter, and next, the spring was passing away, and not a shower had yet fallen. They watched every cloud, as it rose from the Egean sea, and came rolling towards them ; and as it appeared to be approaching, they spread out their bowls and their spunges, extended their shawls and their turbans, and the very veils of their women, that not one precious drop might be lost, while the names of Allah and the prophet were loudly and frequently invoked. Not one drop ever came to theju. The clouds fell in abundant showers on the plains below, on the olives and the vineyards, on the neigh- bouring villages, and even once or twice on the very town of Athens ; but they were invariably broken by the Acropolis, as if they shunned the red flag which was floating there."
The Turks capitulated, and three days after the Acropolis was deluged with rain :* —
" The Turks, in number eleven hundred and forty, of every age and sex, were principally jjlaced in a very large mansion belonging to government : those of the highest rank only were lodged in private houses. Forty or fifty among them had already died in consequence of their previous sulferings, and a great proportion of the rest were sick and wounded. All their arms had been surrendered, according to the capitulation. * * * Suddenly on Wednesday, the 10th of July, (a day to be noted for repentance and shame by this genera- tion, and for eternal mourning by their posterity,) a report was cir- culated with astonishing rapidity, that the Turkisharmy from Thessaly had passed Thermopyhe, and was already at Thebes on its way to Athens. * * All the soldiers, followed by a part of the populace, instantly rushed to the quarters where the Turks were confined, burst open the doors, and commenced, without delay, the merciless massacre." — p. 67.
Mr. Waddington has gone with candour into all the circum-
* Mr, Blaquiere mentions Jin occurrence perhaps more singular than the abore, and which the Greeks regarded as a more direct interposition of heaven. When the Turks besieged Anatolico, the inhabitants were reduced to the most extreme distress for want of water. When capituhition siemed inevitable, a shell from a ten-inch mortar fell upon the pavement of the church of St. Michael, and broke into a source of abundant and excellent water! Mr. Blaquiere says, he scrupu- lously ascertained the facts from eyewitnesses on the spot. — p. 44, 2d part.
VOL. I. C
18 Greece.
stances which prompted and may palHate this disgusting event. We have only room to refer our readers to the work itself. On the 15th of July, Dramali Pacha's approach renewed the terrors of the Athenians ; but he passed the guilty city and entered the Morea. The result is well known. Baffled and harassed, he was retreating rapidly from Argos to Corinth, when his mountain enemies beset him in the pass of Dervenaki, and destroyed his whole army — above four thousand men, with the loss only of fifteen.
Odysseus became governor of Athens : a man so notorious in every stage of this strange contest, so alternately cursed, worship- ped, trusted, and suspected, that we shall be pardoned in tran- scribing for the reader the history of his rise : —
*' Andritzes, father of Odysseus, was a Thessalian, born near Ther- mopylae : but after this affair of Lambro, in which he was implicated, he resided generally at Yanina, though he died at Constantinople. The son happened to be born at Ithaca, and to that circumstance is indebted for his heroic name. * * He was removed at a very early age to Yanina, and received his education in the service of Ali Pacha, a school in which it was easy to become instructed in every imaginable vice. Distinguished by the gracefulness of his person, and his skill in manly exercises, he was first introduced to the notice of his master by his extreme agility. * * He challenged the finest horse of Ali Pacha to a trial of speed and wind ; the race was to be performed on rising ground, and the man was to keep pace with the beast till the latter should fall down dead. In case of failure he was to forfeit his head to the indignation of his noble competitor. The Pacha accepted the challenge for his horse, as well as the condition proposed by the challenger, the execution of which he prepared to exact with great fidelity. The animals ran in his presence, — the biped was triumphant, and became from that moment the distinguished favourite of his master. His talents and address enabled him to main- tain a situation to which they certainly had not assisted in raising him ; and he rendered some important services, which Ali rewarded by presenting him with a bride from his own harem. * * And the son of Andritzes became generally known and envied throughout the mountains of Roxunelia." — p. 78.
This man has been at the head of the military party in Greece, who have enriched themselves by the common plunder, to an extent which is wretchedly contrasted with the public poverty of the government. The head of the civil party was prince Mavro- cordato, the poorest, the honestest, and the most enlightened man who has held authority in Greece. Nothing but his character, his talents, and the consequent admiration of his country, have upheld him against the boisterous hostility of the Capitani. It was to Uus man. that Colonel Stanhope, in his misguided zeaU
Greece. 19
addressed at his departure from Greece the most sarcastic and irritating letter that his talents enabled him to compose.* In proof that we have not overrated Prince Mavrocordato's charac- ter, we appeal to every part he has taken in Greece hitherto ; to Lord Byron's opinion, to Mr. Blaquiere, to Colonel Stanhope's letters themselves, Mr. Waddington says, " Every one speaks well of him, and there are some who profess to consider him ' the only hope of Greece.' Of the organization and consolida- tion of Greece, it is, I fear, but too true, that our hopes do mainly repose in him." (p. 113.) " Prince Mavrocordato is still preserx^ed to the hopes and vows of his country, and to the friendship of every friend of honest and practicable freedom." — p. 170. Unhappily, Colonel Stanhope went on a mission to Odysseus : —
" Odysseus, to gain any end, will profess any principles ; and as the colonel was believed to be the dispenser of the {^ood things col- lected at Messolunghi, and to possess influence in the future distribu- tion of the loan, he was obviously a person to be gained. Behold then, the robber Odysseus, the descendant from a race of robbers, the favourite pupil of Ali Pacha, the .soldier, whose only law through life had been his sword — suddenly transformed into a benevolent, liberal, philanthropic republican !" — p. 82.
Colonel Stanhope became his dupe, and a letter was afterwards intercepted, of Sophianopulo, an unprincipled, intriguing accom- plice, boasting of the success. Will it be believed that Colonel Stanhope's hostility allowed him to descend to grudge Mavrocor- dato the title o^ prince, which custom and courtesy had prefixed to his name, and endeavour to strip him of the harmless continua- tion of a remnant of Turkish etiquette ?f Giving Colonel Stan- hope all credit for zeal and enthusiasm, we cannot forgive the Greek committee for complimenting him on his powers of con- ciliation— when he became the tool of one party, and (right or wrong) had done all in his limited power to exasperate the other. We will make some remarks on the points in dispute, not to illustrate the quarrel, to which we bid a hearty farewell, | but to exhibit the state of opinions in the country. Prince Mavrocor- dato was inclined to watch the lately established newspapers, and Lord Byron joined in the opinion. " 1 hope," says he, " that the press will succeed better there (Athens) than it has here, (Messo- iunghi.) The Greek newspaper has done great mischief, both in
* Colonel Stanhope's note, and Prince Mavrocordato's fine letter to Mr. Blaquiere on the subject, are worth referring to. They are in " Blaquiere," p. 77, part 2d. Colonel Stanhope's Letters, pp. 223-335,
t Parry.— p. 304.
X We may, en passant, remind the reader, that Odysseus, after Colonel Stan- hope's iieparturc,yoi«f</ /A« Tvrkt ! Mavrocordato's oamc is stili uotaiated,
c Z
20 Greece,
the Morea and in the islands." (Stanhope's Greece, p. 126.) Mavrocordato was suspected to be in favour of a foreign king. These were the two points on which Colonel Stanhope's anger was founded. Yet all parties seem to unite in the latter opinion. " It is quite certain," says Mr. Waddington, " that the great majority of the nation is at this moment in favour of a constitu- tional monarchy. But whom are they to select for their mo- narch ? No Greek can ever be generally popular in Greece." * * * Xhe sceptre then seems destined to the hand of no native. * * * They therefore rest their only hope of or- ganization and repose in the vigour and impartiality of a foreign king." (W. p. 162.) Among these proposed potentates, are Gus^ tavus of Austria, Jerome Buonaparte, Bernadotte, and Prince Leopold. Colonel Stanhope has suggested the Duke of Sussex. We leave the decision to our readers.
The place of Odysseus, after his desertion of the cause, has been assumed by his disciple Gourra ; and as this has rendered him one of the most important men now in Greece, it may be as well to know something of him : —
" A Turkish officer of some consequence, residing at Athens, had incurred the enmity of Ali Pacha, who consulted Odysseus as to the means of procuring his destniction ; the latter selected Gourra, one of the most daring- and hardiest of his soldiers, to be the instrument of assassination. To avoid suspicion, Gourra was first despatched to Patras, where he had not long waited when an opportunity presented itself of travelling to Athens in the company of a merchant, unknown and unquestioned. He speedily became acquainted with the person of his victim, but the number and assiduity of the guards rendered it difficult to execute his commission with impunity. At last, one dark evening, the Turk returned to his house slightly attended, and entered his gate the last of the party ; and Gourra availed himself with courage of the opportunity. He was not so fortunate in escaping suspicion as in accomplishing murder ; he was presently seized and examined, and the discoveiy that one of his pistols had been recently discharged was sufficient for his condemnation. His liberation was, however, subsequently obtained, by the interference of Ali Pacha, and he returned to his master with pride and honour, a distinguished and successful assassin." — W. p. 83.
Of the celebrated Colocotroni, it may only be necessaiy to say* that he has been successively a Klepht, a butcher, and a Capitan> and in these trades he has amassed great wealtli — he has coined his country's heart, and dropped her blood for drachmas — -and is, or was, the richest man in Greece, and the greatest rascal.
Mr. Waddington selects Napoli di Romania as the probable capital when Greece shall be free : —
" Its vicinity to the luxuriant plain of Argos, on the one side, and
Greece: St
to the commercial islands of the Archipelago, on the other, its un- assailable strength, and the security of its port, mark it out distinctly for the capital of a mercantile country ; and such must Greece be, if it intends to be any thing. * * The city, as having been ex- clusively inhabited by Turks, is by far the best built in Greece; the greater part of it has escaped the injuries of war, and the fortifications appear not to have sustained any damage. * * While philanthro- pic foreigners are establishing, (or threatening to establish,) schools, presses, and laboratories, in every corner of the country, this lively and unscholastic people has already erected, for its own civilization, an excellent cafe and billiards. I should be sorry to appear paradoxi- cal : but I am not at all certain, that the path which the Greeks have chosen for themselves is not surer and shorter than that by which their foreign friends would conduct them." — p. 130.
It may indeed be asked, what great benefit have the Greek committee conferred on Greece?* We question not their zeal, but their philosophy. The laboratory w'as a failure, the schools, presses, and Utilitarian societies, have done nothing to keep the Turks out — the money was a bone of contention — all parties quarrelled over it, the debt remains, and Greek scrip is at 16 discount. Pecuniary assistance should be great enough to sweep every thing before it, or it should be nothing at all. its obvious effects are to paralyze the efforts of individual patriotism in Greece. No one will sacrifice his private fortune, when foreign money-lenders are to go hand-in-hand with him : no one knows the extent to Avhich the loan will aid his country's difficulties, nor consequently the need there may be of his scanty assistance ; the result is, that each man is content to hoard his own wealth as long as the state has such good friends to help her. Just as in this country, whenever government has come for^vard to assist any charitable institution, individual contribution has immediately ceased.
If Greece be once set free, it will be, pro tanto, an enlarge- ment of the market for English commerce. But this result must 5 never be sought by our direct interference. The great continen- I tal powers will never tamely watch the possibilif?/ o^ Greece com- ^ ihg under the protection — in other words becoming the append- r age — of this country. The possession of Greece would lead to the seizure of the Dardanelles, on the first dispute Avith Turkey : and a government in possession of the British islands, Gibraltar, Malta, Greece, and the Dardanelles, would so effectually surround Europe, and have such numerous methods of resenting a quarrel, and destroying the whole commerce of the continent, that no step
• " I have often perceived," says Mr. Waddington, " that the people most dis- posed to ridicule and despise practical Phil-hellenisin, arc the very Greeks for whose bene&t (fruitlessly, I allow) it has been exerted." Note p, 1 17.
22 Greece.
will be permitted towards its establishment. However pure the intention of England might be, the possible consequences of its direct interference in the affairs of Greece, will unite the continent against her. And the object of her interference, however valu- able, is not such as to warrant a great risk.
By what means, then, is the independence of Greece to be effected ? By the protection of Russia ? this has been the bug- bear of politicians from the days of Catharine to the present. Greece once in the hands of Russia — Constantinople will follow. What then ? the march of history has been teaching us in vain, if we fancy that St, Petersburgh and Constantinople will continue in one hand. Contrasted in climate, manners, morals, tastes, and wants, both would be commercial cities, with commercial inter- ests diametrically opposed. The same war which might be un- important or advantageous to one, would probe the other to the quick. Each the head of a viceroyalty, a pachalik, an arch- duchy, or any other titular government, call it what you will, St. Petersburgh and Constantinople must still remain capitals — and like two great weights, would break the slender balance that connects them, and fall asunder. History affords not even the resemblance of such a permanent connection — and a thousand instances of unsuccessful attempts. If Constantinople were unable to remain in the same hands with Rome, it is ten times more impossible for her to be united to St. Petersburgh.
But as long as this terror of Russian omnipotence remains, Greece must be secured by other means. It must be either by general mediation, or her own unassisted efforts.
Greece has several singular advantages in this struggle, which have not been generally remarked. A great branch of the reve- nue of Turkey arose from the capitation tax, or literally, the an- nual ransom which was paid by its Christian subjects for the pri- vilege of wearing their heads a year longer. So ample a source of wealth was this, that it has more than once been the only ar- gument which has prevented a general massacre of the Chris- tians in Turkey.* The mere contest itself cuts off this supply. Besides this, it need hardly be repeated, the Turkish navy was almost exclusively navigated by Greeks ; so that the Porte is de- prived of two powerful weapons at the very moment she wants them most. And she is not only deprived of them, but they re- main in the hands of her enemies. Her loss is quadruple ; what she loses they gain. The last-mentioned fact is the obvious rea- son Avhy the Greeks with such inferior numbers have generally baffled the Turks at sea. At land, the main force of the Otto-
* It was used, if wc recollect rightly, by the famous Gaw Hassan. Eton'* Survey. ^
I
Greece, 23
man army has always consisted in her admirable cavalry. The nature of Greece prevents the operation of cavalry. ,
What then is the probability that Greece will be a])le single-* handed to fight out her own independence ? The greater part of the present campaign has unhappily witnessed only the ad- vance of the Pacha of Egypt's forces in the Morea. But at the period at which we now write, reports have reached us — too nu- merous, and from too many quarters, and too accordant, to be false — of a happy reaction. Colocotroni has been released from the control to which his equivocal conduct had subjected him — and however unprincipled it be, it is hoped that his interest alone will persuade him to use the talents and influence which he cer- tainly possesses, to save his unhappy country and his own reputa- tion. The Greelcs are still strong at sea. Their vessels are pe- culiarly adapted to the narrow seas they have to fight in. They are brigs, carrying from eight to twenty guns. The greatest mus- ter was in the first year of the revolt, consisting of one hundred and sixteen sail — all private property. The commerce of the islands has of course been crippled. Their vessels have been turned into ships of war — but in other respects insurrection has been found hardly more expensive than submission. The islands of Hydra contributed annually in the way of taxes, presents, and extortions 20,000 dollars to her late masters ; since the revolt, a year's expenditure in " the cause " has amounted to 30,000 dollars.
However the regeneration of Greece be effected, by force or mediation — and the last seems now most probable — the great question mooted over Europe, is the form and nature of her fu- ture government. Those who have called loudest for a republic, forget that Greece stands in a situation in which no country in the world has ever stood. The precedents of antiquity, and mo- dern examples, are inapplicable to her. More circumscribed in extent than her neighbours, she has on one side a range of for- midable powers, in all the strength of military science and modern civilization, each of whom would willingly swallow her in ostensi- ble/7ro<ec^io» ; and on the other side her ancient tyrant, in un- progressive stupidity, ready to snatch, not the first cause of dis- pute, but the first opportunity of weakness, to reclaim his slaves, and — once reclaimed — to render them for ever incapable of fu- ture revolt. A sketch of the effects to which different forms of government are peculiarly adapted, will make it plain immedi- ately, what the choice of Greece should be.
When a nation is bent on foreign conquest — when she wishes to diverge from her centre, her powers must be intrusted to the hands of many, she must have » restless emulation among her
M Ch-eke.
citizens — a commonwealth. If she turns her attention inwards, content with her integrity, and Avilling to improve and ensure it, her forces will concentrate, and, under whatever name, she must have a monarchy in effect. Rome under kings must have stood still. " II devoit arriver de deux choses Tune ; ou que Rome changeroit son gouvernement, ou qu'elle resteroit une petite et pauvre monarchie." (Montesq. Gr. des Rom. ch. i.) Her republi- can powers spread over the earth. When nothing was left to con- quer, her powers were again concentrated under the emperors ; when the progress of man again gave her enemies from the north and the east, her forces were again divided, and when Constantine united the powers of the six emperors in himself and strove against nature, the empire fell asunder and was dismembered. His- tory is full of similar examples. Alexander's conquest was but a rocket thrown from west to east, which 'burst into a hundred pieces when the first impelling force was spent. For an exten- sion of territory a republic is best adapted. For a settled and established state, a monarchy. No one will pretend that the object of Greece is the former.
After all, where are the boasted liberties of a republic, which a monarchy has not ? are not rights as sharply defined, and is not property as accurately preserved in the latter ? Ask those who throw up their arms and shoiit out for a republic in Greece, what more they want than a monarchy contains? Nothing but the' name — the name ! Prince Mavrocordato was content to have a constitution in substance, " et M. le Colonel (Stanhope) ne parait courir qu'apres son ombre." Mr. Waddington is far above these verbal babbles. " If," says he, " I could ensure for them the reality of independence, I would not dispvite very ol)stinately about the name : the thing once obtained, the name follows as a matter of course." (p. 158.) It was well enough for Rome to per- petuate her sacred horror of kings, and permit her emperors to establish a despotism, when the whole population woidd have risen had they added the cursed three letters to their title ; but in these days, when the nature of government is so well understood, it is ignorance or prejudice to suppose that monarchy, one whit more than a republic, is literally the fidvov «/>x'}-
A federative republic has been suggested for Greece. There hi far too much clannishness already. At Hydra, Mr. Waddington says there " is a feeling purely Hydriote, and it operates nearly equally against all the World ; and, in fact, if there be any peojile whom the Hydriotes hate as a people, it is their brother Albani- ans and neighbours, the Spezziotes and Crenidiotes." (j). 104.) In Greece — '* in this singular land, every man's country is' his bwn city, or his own mountain^ or his own rock ; and to these his mere
Miscellaneous PTritings of John Evelyn. 25
patriotism, as separated from his interest, is almost entirely con- lined ; and he appears even to detest every thing beyond them. Islanders abuse Moraites, and Moraites calumniate islanders, while many districts in the Morea, and many isles in the Egean, have their subdivisions of animosity." (p. 110.) No well-wisher to Greece can wish that feeling to remain. It is the very poison of confidence, and therefore of commerce. A federative republic is the very form to foster and exasperate the distemper. Greece must look to commerce as her prop. She must look to be the connect- ing link in trade, as she is in situation, between Europe, Africa, and Asia ; and whatever interferes with this, interferes with her real interest.
Art. II. — The Miscellaneous fFritings of John Evelyn, Esq. F.R.S. S)C. Now first collected, with occasional Notes, by William Upcott. 4lo. London, 1825.
Few, if any similar publications of our own days, more strongly attracted public attention on their first appearance, or are likely to retain a more permanent station in our National Literature, than the Diary and Correspondence of .John Evelyn. In this work we were introduced to tlie private hours and the domestic intercourse of a name which had been long valued and highly honoured, and the honour and the value of which increased in proportion as the familiarity of our acquaintance was permitted to become closer. In duty to his God, in loyalty to his Sove- reign, in love to his Country, in benevolence to all Mankind, there are few on record who can pretend to rival this amiable and high- minded English gentleman ; and richly and variously as his intel- lect was cultivated, large as were his acquirements, discursive as were his powers, not even the splendour of these has contributed so much to his reputation, as the goodly ends to which they were applied. What evil he might restrain, or what useful purpose he might effect, appear to have been the first questions which he asked himself on sitting down to composition ; and be his vein, " grave or gay," " li^ely or severe," the promotion of good is the ultimate goal to which his steps are always directed. Neither for this purpose was it only on subjects which of them- selves confer dignity on him who essays (o treat them that Eve-', lyn's pen Avas employed. We meet him, it is true, as the champion of the Religion upon Avhich Fanaticism had trampled, and of the Government which Treason had uprooted.We find him improving the Agriculture, and providing for the future Naval greatness by which his Country, in our own times, has become arbitress of the des- tinies of the World. Nor less is he to be regarded as civilizing his
26 Miscellaneous Writings o/John Evelyn,
contemporaries in their taste for the finer Arts. In Painting, Sculp- ture, Engraving, and Architecture, he was himself equally compe- tent and willing to give instruction to the practical artist. But besides these higher objects, slight as some may deem the wapeprfa to which he dedicated his subsecival hours, even these »re marked by his pervading spirit of benevolence. The citizen could not hesitate to express lively gratitude to the writer who sought how to relieve him from the dingy and unwholesome atmo- sphere, which he was condemned to inhale ; and the peaceful lover of the countiy garden would gladly listen to those precepts which taught him how to add another herb to his salad, or to shelter an additional shrub in his conservatory.
The Editor of the volume before us has brought into one body the numerous minor brochures (as they would noAv be called) of this kind, which Evelyn from time to time threw to the world ; and which, while dispersed, were of rare occurrence, and known, for the most part, only to bibliomaniacs. Our task is little more than to inform our readers of the chief contents of this collection, and occasionally to let the originals tell in their own language how worthy they are of complete perusal.
It was not till his twenty-ninth year that Evelyn appeared be- fore the public as an author, and his coup d'essai was prompted by a noble daring Avhich sufficiently declared the unshaken firm- ness both of his political principles and of his courage. A few days only before the murder of the unhappy Charles, at a time when men's hearts were failing them for fear of the tyranny with which they were beset, and even the boldest shrank from an open avowal of monarchical feeling, he published a translation of an Essay by De la Mothe Vayer, O71 Libertt/ and Servitude ; the scope and ob- ject of which, as it is explained in the following paragraph, must have been sufficiently offensive to the Regicides ; and indeed is proved to have been so, by a MS. note in his own copy, " I was like to be call'd in question by the rebells for this booke, being published a few days before his majesty's decollation." "TO HIM THAT READES.
" This free subject, coming abroad in these licentious times, may happily cause the world to mistake both the Author and the Trans- lator, neither of whom by Liberty do understand that impious impos- toria pila, so frequently of late exhibited and held forth to the people, whilst (in the meane time) indeed, it is thrown into the hands of a few private persons. By Fkkedome is here intended that which the Philosopher teacheth us : Nidli rei servire, nnlli necessitati, nnllis ca- sibus, fortunam in (eqnnm dedncere, &c. not that Platonique chimaera of a State, no where existant save in Utopia.
" Verily, there is no such thing in rerymnaturd as we pretend unto : seeing, that whilst we beare about us these spoiles of mortality, and
Miscellamous TVritings 0/ John Evelyn. 27
are subject to our passions, there can be no absolute perfection acquired in this life : and of this truth we have now had the experience of more than five thousand yeeres, during all which tract to this present epoch of time, never was there either heard or read of a more equal and ex- cellent form of government than that under w*^** we ourselves have lived, during the reign of our most gratious SoveraignesHalcion dales; the sole contemplation of which makes me sometimes with the aweet Italian to sing,
" " Memoria sola tu
Con rammentarm! ilfil
Spesso, spcsso men H rapimti,
E qualch' istanV ancor, ringiouanirtni.
Of which the memory
No sooner strikes my braine.
But ah ! transported, I
Methinkes wax young againe.
" If therefore we were once the most happy of subjects, why do we
thus attempt to render our selves the most miserable of slaves ? God
is one, and better it is to obey one than many.* Neque enim Lihertas
tutior ulla est, quatn Domino servire bono,i that is, (Charles.)"— p. 5.
Vay6r was a voluminous writer much in vogue at this time. He is for the most part grave and sententious, always sensible, and, oc- casionally, somewhat caustic. We do not know that any particular value attaches to the tract now in question,whichEvelyn, probably, selected less from its intrinsic merit flian from its fitness for the season at which he printed it ; and from the opportunity which it afforded him of conveying his own sentiments with that slight de- gree of shelter which was afforded by the name of another. Bayle, who never spares La Mothe when he finds a loophole open for his attack, has pointed out the singular misrepresentation of the well known story of Stratonica and Combabus, with which this little Essay is disfigured. Indeed from the frequent similar errors into which La Mothe has fallen, it is more than probable that, like the generality of his countrymen, he invented for himself, or took much on the authority of others, whenever he had to draw from a Grecian fountain.
T/te state of France as it stood in the nirifh year of this pre- sent monarch, Louis XIV., appeared three years aftenvards, and it is an able and acute summary of the observations which Evelyn had made during a visit to that Kingdom. The remarks on the utility of foreign travel contained in the preliminary letter to a friend, may be consulted with advantage in our own days, by many among those countless shoals Avho think wisdom and polite- ness are the product of every land, but that one to which Provi- dence has assigned their own birth ; and who believe that they are
•^^— •"•^i^— ^i"^— «■ ■ ■ ■ ■-■■■■ - I ■■■■■■ I ■ ■»Mii ■ . ' ■^. ..M,,,,! I, m tmmmmm^»
* Mst. vi, 24* t Claudiaa.
k8 Miscellaneous Writings o/John Evelyn.
certain of obtaining these valuable commodities abroad, whatever may be the lack of preparation under which they set out from home: — "for it is not every man," says Evelyn, " that crosses the seas, hath been of an academy, learned a corranto, and speaks the languages, whom I esteem a traveller, of which piece most of our English are in these countries at present."
The profane mummery of the Ampulla, which has been re- cently exhibited at Rheims, had it seems fallen into discredit even at the time in which Evelyn Avrote ; and we cannot but think that it would have been consistent Avith the good sense of the restored dynasty to have allowed it to slumber, with many other follies which the Revolution swept away in its destructive, though, in some instances, purifying, torrent. "Touching that other le- gend of their Sainte Ampoule, which in the time of Clovis, first Christian king of France, was (as they give out) brought by an angel from heaven, and reserved at Rhemes for the royal chrisne, we will give it leave to pass as a vvdgar (yet not unpolitick) errour or impertinent tradition." It Avould be difficult to state in what respect it continues to be " not unpolitick," at present, when the lapse of one hundred and seventy years has unveiled its " errours" and " impertinence," to the eyes even of the lowliest hind who gazes on the juggling trick with a contemptuous grin.
The character of the existing Royal Family of France, the func- tions of the chief officers of the Court, the revenue, the naAal and military resources, the foreign policy, and the domestic manners, are all slightly but clearly touched. They present an interesting outline, the truth of which is internally evident from the boldness and distinctness with which it is sketched, and the impartiality of - which in its distribution of praise and blame whenever French and English customs are compared together, has not often been equalled. Thus, notwithstanding the pomp and variety of office by which the Grand Monarque was nominally surrounded, Eve- lyn holds that his cortege is far inferior to that of the King of Eng- land, " the splendour, hospitality, order, and decent magnificence of whose sendee and attendance in this kind, I am confident no Court in Europe hath ever approached or parallelled." The no- bility of France considered as soldiers, he esteems to be the best disciplined and most adroit cavalry of Europe; as citizens, much given to " laudable magnificencies," and, though some of them are polite scholars, yet for the most part, accounting a studi- ous and contemplative life "below their spirits." Of the ple- beians, he says, they are " of a far more vile and naturally slavish genius, than they really are in any part of Christendom besides ; which meannesse of spirit 1 easily conjecture to have been long since contracted from the over severity and liberty of their supe-
Miscellaneous Tfritings of io\m Eveljm. 29
rlors ; their incomparable poverty and excessive oppression" — again — " truly I esteem them for the most miserable objects that one may likely behold upon the face of the earth ; especially those which live towards the frontiers, so immeasurably exhausted by taxations, gabels, impositions, spoyls, and contributions, unto which they are generally obnoxious." The men of learning "prove as polite scholars, and as trim wits as any Italian of them all," nevertheless many of them from their presumption and pedan- try are " most egregious talkers and intollerably pragmaticall." Learning is too much levelled by "their intemperate transla- tions," for almost all the ancient poets have been turned into prose. Amongst the Faculties of Paris are some " good dextrous divines," but their school exercises are " dull perfunctory things'* when compared with our own. " Generally the chirurgeons ar^ pretenders to physick, and the physician as great a friend to the emperick." Tiie mechanics are " universally excellent, inven- tive, and happy." — Of the ladies — but we must not deprive the gallantry of the following passage of a single spice of its sea- soning : —
" The French Children are the fairest letter that Nature, I think, can shew throu<>;h all the humane alphabet ; but though they be Angels in the cradle, yet are they more like Divels in the saddle : age gene- rally shewing, that what she so soon bestows, she takes as fast away ; for the French (after twenty) presently strike forty in their faces, and especially amongst their women, who are then extremely decayed, when ours, if not beautifull, are yet very tolerable at those years ; which whether it proceeds from the siccity of the air, drinking water, ill diet, or other accident, I dare not easily determine ; and yet am the rather inclined to think, something of that nature it must needs be, when we finde the women of quality for the most part as exquisite beauties as any the whole world produces, without disparaging our ladies at home, whom I would be unwilling this paragraph should in the least degree offend." — p. 90.
The youthful gentry are " more open and free" even than the Italians in their " indifFerency of beleeving and living :" —
" Albeit yet not in all points so enormous as the depraved youth of England, whose prodigious disbaucheries and late unheard of extra- vagancies, far surpasse the madnesse of all other civilized nations what- soever. Gaming also they frequent, but are in no one vice so aban- doned, as to the exhausting their estates, especially in point of drink and tobacco ; which, though it have of late got some fopting upon the more vile sort, and infected some northern parts of the kingdom ; yet fewer persons of quality use either in excesse : but what they do not in drink, they pay in bread, and arc strange devoiuers of corn ; they adore a good pottage (whatever the rest of the repast be) as the Egyp- tians did garlick ; nor will a true Monsieur be brought at any rate to
09 3Itscetlaneous Writings o/ John Evelyn.
taste a ^lass of wine, saiu premier manger ; which although they nei- ther do so much, nor sit so long at it, yet they use to collation more often, the most temperate of them."
" They are exceedingly courteous, and have generally their tongues well hung ; which promptitude of theirs, as it becomes them well in encounter, so they are for the most part of joviall conversation, and far from that constrained addresse which is naturall to our sullen na- tion, who never think ourselves acquainted, till we treat one another with Jack and Tom; familiarities which, as we finde no where else in use, so they commonly terminate in vainc and rude associations."— p. 91.
Evelyn was next employed on his favourite subject of Hor- ticulture, and we are presented with the Epistle dedicatory to his translation of The French Garde?ier, 1658, a volume which, much to the delight of the Anti-Browns and Anti-Reptons of the day, treated of parterrs, grotts, fountains, walks, perspectives, rocks, aviaries, vivaries, apiaries, pots, conservatories, piscinas, groves, cryptas, cabinets, ecchos, statues, and other ornaments of a vigna, flowers and evergreens, palisades, and contr-espaliers.
No reader of the Memoirs of JEvelyn can have forgotten the deep interest with which he must have dwelt upon the account therein given (1. 299.) of the death of his most extraordinary and promising child. In order to divert the melancholy which this bitter loss occasioned, he employed himself in translating from the Greek, The Golden Book of St. John Chrysostom, concerning the Education of Children, 1659, and prefixed to it an Epistle Dedicatory to my most incomparable Brothers, George and Rich- ard Evelyn of Wooton and Woodcot in Surrey, Esqs, We cannot call to mind any composition in any language more deeply imbued than this is, with tenderness and affection, more patheti- cally laying bare the sorrows of a wounded spirit, and yet at the same time exhibiting so composed a resignation, so truly pious a surrender of self-will to the wisdom which has been pleased to inflict the heavy blow by which the Avriter was well nigh over- whelmed. On the vaunted proemium to the Sixth Book de Institutione Oratorid, Quinctilian doubtless lavished all the powd- ers of his Art, and the effect has been, for the most part, that the % ear is tickled, while the heart remains untouched. We say, for the most part, since there are passages in this address in which the father breaks forth in spite of the rhetorician, and we are carried on with him by the flood of his grief. JVon sum ambitio- sus in malls, nee aiigere lacrymarnm causas volo, utinam- que esset ratio mi)i7iendi. Sed dissimulare qui possum, quid illi gratia in vultu, quid jucunditatis in sermone, quos ingenii igniculosj qua7nprcestantiam placidcB) et {quod scio vi^ posse
Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn. 31^
credi tantum) altce mentis ostenderet f qualis amorem quicun- que alienus infans mereretur. lllud vero insidiantis, quo me validius cruciaret fortunes fuit, ut ille mild hlandissimus, me suis nutricibuSj me avicE educanti^ me omnibus^ qui solicitare Solent illas cctates, anteferret. Who can doubt on reading this extract that the marks of fondness exhibited by the child were, called out by the exuberant affection of the parent ? and it is this impression which is conveyed throughout by Evelyn, who dwells so much more upon his lost treasure than upon himself. Our citation must be long ; but no one will regret its length : —
" I cannot, with St. Augustine*, say of my son, as he of his, Anno- rum eratfere quindecim, Sf ingenio preeveniebat rmdtos graves 8f docton viros. But this I can truly affirm ; fie was little above five years old, and fie did excel many that I have known of fifteene. Tarn brcvi spa- tio tempora multa compleverat. He was taug'lit to pray as soon as he could speali, and he was taught to read as soon as lie could pray. At tliree years old he read any character or letter whatsoever used in our printed books, and, within a little time after, any tolerable writing hand, and had gotten (by heart) before he was five years of age seven or eight hundred Latine and Greek words, as I have since calculated out of his 'Ovofiaa-TiKov, together with their genders and declensions. 1 entered him then upon the verbs, which in four months time he did perfectly conjugate, together with most of the irregulars excepted in our grammar. These he conquered with incredible delight, and intel- ligence of tfieir use. But it is more strange to consider, that when from them I thought to set him to the nouns, lie had in that interim (by himself) learned both the declensions and their examples, thei» exceptions, adjectives, comparisons, pronouns, without any knowledge or precept of mine, insomuch as I stood amazed at his sedulity and memory. This engaged me to bring him a Seiitentiee Pueriles^ and a Cato, and of late ComeniuH ; the short sentences of which two first, and the more solid ones of the last, he learned to construe and purser as fast as one could well teach and attend him : for he became not onely dextrous in the ordinary rules by frequent recourse to them (for indeed I never obliged him to get any of them by heart as a task, by that same camijicina pueroniTn) upon occasions, but did at this age also easily comprehend both the meaning and the use of the relative, the ellipsis, and defects of verbs and nouns unexpressed. f But to re- peat here all that I could justly affirm concerning his promptitude in this nature, were altogether prodigious, so that truly I have been sometimes even constrained to cry out with the father, as of another Adeodatus, horrori mihi est hoc ingenium. For so insatiable were his desires of knowledg, that I well remember upon a time hearing one discourse of Terence and Plautus, and being told (upon his enquiring
• Conf. lib. 9. cap. 6,
1" Quid in illo virtutum, quid ingenli, quid pictatis lavcnerim, vcreor dicere ne fldem crcduUtatls excedam. Hicr. ad Marccli, Epitaph.
^ Mi^eilahe'bus JFritings 0/ John Evelyh.
concerning these authors) that the books were too difficult for him, he wept for very grief, and would hardly be pacified : but thus it is re- ported of Thucydides, when those noble Muses were recited in his hearing', at one of the most illustrious assemblies of Greece, from whence was predicted the greatness of his genius. To tell you how exactly he read French, how much of it he spake and understood, were to let you onely know that his mother did insti-uct him without any confusion to the rest. Thus he learned a catechism and many prayers, and read divers things in that language. More to bee ad- mired was the liveliness of his judgment, that being much affected with the diagramms in Euclid, he did with so great facility interpret to me many of the common postulata and definitions, which he would readily repeate in Latine and apply it. And he was in one hour onely taught to play the first half of a thorough basse, to one of our Church psalmes, upon the organ. Let no man think that we did hereby crowd his spirit too fiill of notions. Those things which we force upon other children were strangely natural to him ; for as he very seldome affected their toyes, to such things were his usual recreations as the gravest man might not be ashamed to divert himself withal. These were especially the Apologues of jEsop, most of which he could so readily recount, with divers other stories, as you would admire from whence he produced them : but he was never without some book or other in his hand. Pictures did afford him infinite pleasure ; above all, a pen and ink, with which he now began to form his letters. Thus he often delighted himself in reciting of poems and sentences, some whereof he liad in Greek, fragments of comedies, divers verses out of Herbert, and, amongst the psalms, his beloved and oflen repeated Ecce quam bonum : and indeed he had an ear so curiously framed to sounds, that he would never misse infallibly to have told you what language it was you did read by the accent only, were it Latine, Greek, French, Ita- lian, or Dutch. To all I might add, the incomparable sweetness of his countenance and eyes, the clean fabric of his body and pretty ad- dresses : how easily he forgot injuries, when at any time I would break and crosse his passions, by sometimes interrupting his enjoyments, in the midst of some sweet or other delicious things which allured him : that I might thereby render him the more indifferent to all things, though these he seldom quitted without rewards and advantage. But above all, extremely conspicuous was his affection to his younger bro- ther, with whose impertinencies he would continually bear, saying, he was but a child, and understood no better. For he was ever so smil- ing, cheerful, and in perfect good humour, that it might be truly veri- fied of him, as it was once of Ileliodorus,* gravitatem, morinn hilarite frontis temperabat. But these things were obvious, and I dwel no longer on them : there are yet better behind ; and Uiose are, his early piety, and how ripe he was for God. Never did this child lye in bed (by his good wiU) longer than six or seven, winter or summer ; and the first thing he did (being up) was to say his French prayers, and
* Hierom.
I
Miscellaneous Writings o/ John Evelyn. 33
our Church Catechism ; after breakfast that short Latine prayer, which having encountred at the bej^inning- of our Lillie's Grammar, he had learned by heart, without any knowledge or injunction of mine, and whatsoever he so committed to memory, he would never desist till he perfectly understood ; yet with all this, did he no day employ above two houres at his book by my order ; what he else learned was most by himselfe, without constraint or the least severity, unseene, and totally imported by his own inclination. But to return, wonderful was it to observe the chapters which himselfe would choose, and the psalmes and verses that he would apply upon occasions, and as in particular he did to some that were sick in my family a little before him, bidding them to consider the sufferings of Christ, how bitter they were, and how willingly he endured them. How frequently would he pray by himself in the day time, and procure others to joyn with him in some private corner of the house apart? The last time he was at church (which was, as I remember, at Greenwich), at his return I asked him what he brought away from the sermon ; he replyed, that he had re- membered two good things, bo/mm gratia, and bonum gloriee, which expressions were indeed used, though I did not believe he had minded them.
"I should even tire you with repeating all that I might call to mind of his pertinent auswers upon several occasions, one of the last where- of I will only instance. When about Christmas a kinsman of his re- lated to us by the fire side some passages of the presumptuous fasting of certain enthusiasts about Colchester, whilst we were expressing some admiration at the passage, That, sayes the child (being upon the gentlemans knee, and, as we thought, not minding the discourse), is no such wonder, for it is written, ' Man shall not live by bread alone, &c.' But more to be admired was his perfect comprehension of the sacred histories in the metho<l of our Golden Author, so as it may be truly affirmed of this child, as it was once said of Timothy*, Quod d, puero sacraa literas noverat. Nor was all this by rote only (as they term it), for that he was capable of the greater mystery of our salva- tion by Christ I have had many infallible indications. And when the Lords day fortnight before he died, he repeated to me our Church Ca- techism, he told me that he now perceived his godfathers were dis-en- gaged ;_for that since he himself did now understand what his duty was, it would be required of him, and not of them for the future. And let no man think, that when I use the term dis-engaged, it is to express the childs meaning with a fine word, for he did not only make use of such phrases himself, but would frequently in his ordinary discourse come out with such expressions as one would have admired how he came by them ; but upon enquiry he would certainly have produced his autho- rity, and either in the Bible, or some other booke, showed you the words so used. How divinely did this pious infant speake of his be- ing weary of this troublesome world (into which he was scarcely en- tred), and whilst he lay sick, of his desires to goe to Heaven; that the
• 2 Tim. iii. 15. VOL. I. D
34 Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn.
angels might conveye him into Abrahams bosome, passionately per- swading those that tended him to dye with him ; for he told them that he knew he should not live : and, really, though it were an ague which carried him from us (a disease which I least apprehended, finding him so lively in his interval), yet the day before he took his leave of us, he call'd to me, and pronounced it very soberly ; Father (sayes he), you have often told me that you would give me your house, and your land, your bookes, and all your fine things ; but I tell you, I shall have none of them ; you will leave them all to my brother. This he spake without any provocation or passion ; and it did somewhat trouble me, that I could not make him alter this conceit, which in another would be es- teemed prophetick. But that I may conclude, and shew how truly jealous this child was least he should offend God in the least scruple, that very morning, not many howres before he fell into that sleepe which was his last, being in the midst of his paroxcisme, he called to me, and asked of me whether he should not offend, if in the extremity of his pain he mentioned so often the name of God calling for ease ; and whether God would accept his prayers if he did not hold his hands out of bed in the posture of praying ? which when I had pacified him about, he prayed, till his prayers were turned into eternal praises. Thus ended your nephew, being but five years five monthes and three dayes old, and more I could still say. Nam quern corpore non valemus recordatione teneamus, et cum quo loqui non possumus de eo loqui nun^ quam desinamus. But my tears mingle so fast with my inke, that I must breake off here, and be silent — I end therefore with that blessed Saint: Munera tua tihi conjiteor, Domme Deus mens. Creator omniumy multutn potens reformare nostra deformia : nam ego in illo 2Juero, prcB- ter delictum nihil hahebam. Quod etiim ejiutriebatur d, nobis in disci- plind tud. Tu inspira veras nobis, nullus alius. Munera tua tibi con- jiteor.— Cito de terra abstulisti vitam ejus, et securior eum recordor. Deare Brothers, indulge me these excesses. It is not a new thing which I doe. S' Hierom wrote divers Epistles, which he inscribed his Epitaphs ; and never was a Paula or Estochium dearer to him than this young nephew was to,
" Dear B. B. *' Your most affectionate brother and most humble servant,
J. E. " Grot, ad Patrem. " Carere liberis durum non est, nisi his qui habuerunt." The triumph of Christianity over the world, the balm which it pours into the rankest wounds, the consolation vvhich it sheds on the severest sufferings, ("for most truly," does Evelyn say, "of all the afflictions which can touch the heart in this life, one of the most superlative is the loss of a hopeful child,") were never more fully exhibited than in the brief and simple expressions of submission to Heaven which may be found in the earlierpartof this incomparable Epistle, — "Let us make our children fit for God, and then let us not be displeased whensoever he takes them from us. Deus
Miscellaneous Writings o/ John Eveljrri. ^
7iobis illos educandos non mancipio dederat." " These topics," he goes on to say, speaking of the moral aphorisms of t]ie Greek and Roman sages, " are most of them derived from Philosophy, the pride and courage of another institution, and afford us but uncertain consolation in the wiser estimate of things," — " there being nothing capable truly to compose the mind of a good man for the absence of his friend or of his child, like the contempla- tion of his undoubted felicity." In what powerful contrast do these holy breathings stand with the feeble and querulous coward- ice of mourning which prompted the heathen orator to blame himself because he had not sought relief in suicide, and to em- ploy his gift of eloquence only in railing against Heaven ! Hear him speaking of his impia vivacitas, asking quis in mc est alius iisus vocis quam ut incusem Deos, superstes omnium meorum ? accusing himself, because he continued to live as, dignus his cru- ciatibus quos fero ; and summing up his lamentation by a con- densed and pointed apophthegm, which might furnish his disciples with an excuse for self-destruction. Nemo nisi sua culpd diu dolet. Look at these two pictures and then doubt, if you can, whether our blessed Lord hath in truth plucked the sting from Death, and won the victory from the Grave !
A Character of England which Evelyn had first published in 1651, under the assumed form of a translation from the French, had been thought to treat the faults and foibles of our country with too severe a hand, and it was coarsely and bitterly censured in an anonymous reply entitled Gallus Castratus. Both these Tracts, which are exceedingly scarce, are now reprinted. The last deserves little notice. In that of Evelyn we fear the portrait is by no means overcharged. He touches upon the rudeness of the lower orders to foreigners, on the poverty of our public buildings, on the irreverence of sectarian worship, on the insipid, tedious, immethodical, affected and mysterious prayers of the Presbyteri- ans, the canting, whining gibberish of their sermons, consisting of speculative and abstracted notions of things, which neither the people nor themselves well understand ; on their extraordinary length and Pharisaical repetition ; on the want of distinction of habit in their Ministers, who, as he truly says, when they lay by their cloaks have *' more the action of a thrasher than of a di- vine." No catechism, no administration of Sacraments, little no- tice of the Lord's prayer, none of the Creed and Decalogue which are considered " milke for babes and they are all giants," but " the religion of England is preaching and sitting still on Sundays." He condemns also those abuses which are still, even now, sanc- tioned among us, and which we fear are too inveterately rooted to admit of remedy. The entire closing of the church doors on
d2
36 Miscellaneous Writings o/ John Evelyn.
week days, and the impounding of the congregation in pews. He then passes on from the Tryers to the Independents whom he terms *' a refined and apostate sort of Presbyters :" —
" Or, rather svich as renounce all ordination, as who having preachfed promiscuously to the people, and cunningly ensnared a select number of rich and ignorant proselytes, separate themselves into conventicles, which they name congregations. There is nothing does more resem- ble this sect than our Romish Missionaries sent out in partibus inji- delium ; for they take all other Christians to be Heathens. These are those pretenders to the Spirit, into whose party do's the vilest person living no sooner adscribe himself, but he is, ipso facto, dub'd a saint, hallow'd and dear to God. These are the confidents who can design the minute, the place, and the means of their conversion ; a schism full of spiritual disdain, incharity, and high imposture, if any such there be on earth." — p. 155.
And after these lie names " the Anabaptists, Quakers and Fifth Monarchy men, and a cento of unheard of heresies besides, which at present deform the once renounced church of England."
Smoke, beer, and tobacco are among his next abominations. " I have been in a spacious church," he says, " where I could not discern the minister for the smoak, nor hear him for the people's barking." Ladies suffer themselves to be treated in taverns, " drink their crowned cups roundly, daunce after the fiddle, kiss freely, and tearm it an honourable treat." In the evening the men drink, the women game, brawls are not uncommon in pri- vate houses, and if conversation at all takes place, it is in sepa- rate coteries of each sex by itself.
Two circumstances of those times we do not remember to have seen noticed elsewhere. A dancing master generally opened the ball in private houses, and "performed" the greatest part of it with the ladies, Avhile the gentlemen looked on as idle spectators ; and Hyde Park during the usurpation of the Commonwealth, was sold to a beggarly individual, who took toll from all persons who ex- ercised in it. Spring-gardens, which appears to have been a sort of Vauxhall, was pleasing in itself from the " soleraness of the grove and the warbling of the birds," but the company walked too quick to please the taste of the assumed Frenchman, who as- sures his friend that lie does not think there is " a more illustri- ous sight in the world, than to meet the divinities of our Court, marching up the long walks in the Thuilleries, Avhere the pace is so stayed and grave, the encounters so regular and decent." In England, on the contrary, every thing is in rapid motion- — " All Englishmen lide so fast on the road, that you would swear there were some enemie in the ariere, and ^11 the coaches in London seem to drive for midwives."
Miscdlaneous Writings of John Evelyn. 37
" In the same year also, Evelyn again drew his pen in the Royal cause with his customary boldness, at a time when it was still a capital offence even to speak in favour of the dethroned family. lAxs Apology for the Royal Party was three times printed within the year of its publication. It was followed in 1660, by an- other political pamphlet, The Late News from Brussels Un- masked, which he rose from a sick bed to write, while attended by three physicians who considered his recovery doubtful. This Tract was an answer to Marchmont Needham, Avho had put toge- ther a low and virulent attack upon the King, in a pamphlet de- scribing the principal characters of the exiled Court, and pretend- ing to be written by a person in close attendance on the person of the Monarch.
On the King's return, Evelyn received a most gracious message from the Royal lips. The effect of the Restoration upon his mind is powerfully described in a single sentence, " I stood in the Strand, and beheld it, and blessed God." The King received him in a distinguished manner at Court, called him his old ac- (juaintance, and offered him the Order of the Bath, which honour however Evelyn declined.
In 1661, was publislied by the King's command, Fumifugiumf or the Inconvenience of the Aer and Smoak of London dissi- pated, together ivith some remedies humbly proposed, S^c. Charles it seems was so struck with the evils herein noticed, and approved so Avell of Evelyn's suggestions, that he instructed him to prepare a Bill for the next Session of Parliament to carry part of them into effect. Nothing however Avas done : and it was re- served for Mr. Michael Angelo Taylor to commence a reform which has been highly beneficial, as far as he has been allowed to proceed, and which we sincerely hope to find him advancing much further.
The first circumstance which attracted Evelyn '_§ attention to this curse of London was his perceiving while walking in Whitehall, " a presumptuous smoak issuing from one or two tunnels neer Northumberland-house," a princely residence, which, we believe, at the present moment, would readily compound for half a dozen such nuisances, if it coidd be secured against the creation of more. This " hellish and dismall cloud of sea-coal," which hovers above the whole metropolis, corrupts the lungs, and dis- orders all habits, by its fuliginous and filthy vapour ; so that there are more cat bars, phthisicks, coughs, and consumptions ragiiig in London, than on the v.hole earth besides ; and that it resembles the face rather of Mount Etna, the court of Vul- can, StromboU, or the suburbs of Hell, than an assembly of rational creatures, and the Court of an incomparable Monarch.
SO" ^ Miscellaneous Writings 0/ John Evelyn.
The sure remedy which Evelyn suggests, and which as^redly might, in some degree, be administered, is the formation of a Transtiberine district, at a competent distance from town, within which all noxious and offensive factories, as those of brewers, dyers, soap and salt boilers, lime burners, cum multis aliis, should be confined. The point which he proposes for the concen- tration of smoke is down the river, five or six miles from London, beyond the promontory which shelters Greenwich from the Plum- stead marshes, a pestilent and uliginous spot, which no doubt would, in turn, be corrected and ameliorated, by this increase of artificial heat. Tallow-chandlers and butchers, with the long train of abominations which they occasion, by their meltings and slaughterings, should join this ill-favoured colony, and London would then be freed from much, which, in spite of a just pretence to superiority in internal national cleanliness, excites the surprise and disgust of the foreigner, who nevertheless snuffs up the savour of his own personal and domestic dirtiness with unreluctant complacency.
The third part of this Tract proposes a fanciful improvement, the mention of which we are almost tempted to omit, lest it should weaken the former and more practicable suggestions. It is no other than to plant all the Ioav grounds circumjacent to London with such shrubs as yield the most fragrant and odoriferous flowers. Evelyn is now fairly on his hobby, and he revels through a page and a half in more aroraatics than Eden itself produced. Our sense of smelling is saturated with his copia narium, with the sweetbrier, the periclymenas and woodbines, the common, white, and yellow jessamine, with the syringas or pipe trees, the guelder rose, the musk and all other roses ; the genesta hispanica, rubus odoratus, bayes, juniper, lignum vitse, lavender, and rosemary ; the sweet smelling sally, and the blossom of the tilia or lime tree : then again succeed pinks, cloves, carnations, stock- gilly flowers, primroses, auriculas, and violets ; cowslips, lilies, narcissuses, and strawberries ; parietaria lutea, musk, lemon, and mastic ; thyme, spike, cammomile, balm, mint, marjoram, pem- pernel, and serpillum. Who can even read of these ravishing and delicious odours, without a desire to apply to the paring knife of Taliacotius, not for a supplemental but for a transcendental snout! without secret encouragement of that wish which the epigrammatist expressed to his friend Fabullus, that the gods would bless him with a totality of nose! "And this," Evelyn says in his peroration, " is Avhat (in short) I had to offer for the improvement and melioration of the Aer about London, and with which I shall conclude this discourse."
The Sculptura next finds its place, and as the reprints of this Essay, in 1765 and 1769, have made it generally accessible, there
Miscellaneous Writings of ^o\m^\e\yrf, 39
was, we think, little reason for incorporating it in this volume ;^ which, on the same principle, if its limits would enclose them, might have been made to infold the Sylva and Pomona. If this is an error of commission, we hold that there are yet others of omis- sion. The versions of Roland Freart's Parallel between Ancient and Modem Architecture, and of the Mysterie of Jesuitism, are neither of them given ; because, as the Preface expressly states, they are not original works : a reason which might have equally excluded the tract on Liberty and Servitude, and the Golden Book of St. Chrysostnm.
To the third edition of Freart's Parallel, in 1697, was ap- pended an Account of Architects and Architecture, by Evelyn himself. From this we learn that he was no friend to Gothic archi* tecture. After condemning the *' slender and misguine pillars, ot rather bundles of staves," and the " pondrous arched roofs without entablature," which distinguish the earlier remains of this style, he passes on to the " sharp angles, jetties, narrow lightsj ^ bare statues, lace; and other cut- work, and crinkle crankle," which mark the florid style in Henry Vllth's chapel. It seems to have been supposed, in the days of Evelyn, that no man of sound taste could approve both a Grecian and a Gothic building; and in the usual want of temperance and judgment which accom- panies party spirit, even in the Arts, matters between which no comparison could be fairly instituted were eagerly compared ; and the amateur of Inigo Jones and Sir Christopher Wren held him-* self bound in honour to condemn Mauritius and De Blois; Warton has the merit of being among the first who ventured to point out that each style had its OAvn peculiar merits, and to vindicate the just pretensions to admiration possessed by our chief religious structures.
Ihe Kalendarium Hortense, or Gardiner's Almanack, has had the fortune of being the most popular among Evelyn's works. From its first appearance, in 1664, to its reprint in 1706, it had passed through ten impressions ; and it appears, in tmth, to con- tain very excellent instructions forthe exact education of asparagus and spinach, cabbages, cucumbers, and currants.
But the most singular composition in which Evelyn ever em- barked, was occasioned by a work of Sir George Mackenzie, of ' Rosehaugh, King's Advocate for Scotland, entitled A Moral Essay upon Solitude, preferring it to public Mmployment, and all its Appendages, such as Fame, Command, liiches, Pleasures, Conversation, Sfc. 1665. The doctrine here espoused, it might have been thought, would be peculiarly agreeable to Evelyn's taste and feelings ; for althotigh his own- writings were, for the most part, practical, and all directed to
'W ]^sceikmeous Wiiiings of John l^veVf^.
thfe benefit of Society, his course of life was purely contemplative; and if not recluse, at least was not public. Nevertheless, on this occasion, he adopted an opinion opposite to that espoused by Mackenzie ; and probably more after the manner of an exercise of the Schools than as intending to convey his real choice, like one Inpugnam qui Rhetorica descendit ab umbra, he undertook to answer the champion of retirement (who himself, on the other hand, was successfully engaged in the busiest scenes of active life), by a Tract, Public Employment and an Active Life, tvith all its Appendages, such as Fame, Command, Riches, Con- versation^ d^c. preferred to Solitude, 1667- This controversy was conducted with spirit, but, at the same time, with all the chival- rous courtesy which a trial of arms with pointless lances might be supposed to demand. The opponents mutually exchanged complimentary cartels, each affected to prefer his adversary's exploits to his own, and each rested more upon the merits of the cause itself which he maintained, than of the arm by which it was supported. *f Differing as we do from Evelyn, in his main position, and be- lieving that the question which he dismisses for all men at once, by general arguments, must be decided for each individual sepa- rately, by reference to his temper and talents, we still think, that there are few publications in which he has been more happy in occasional passages, than in this little Tract. It is not to Dio- cletian, nor to the Fifth Charles, nor to Christina, that the reader need look for an exemplification of the following assertion. There are heads below a Crown, to which his memory will tell him it belongs : but we cite it less for this purpose than as a proof of the elegance of the author's style : —
" Verily there is more of ambition and empty glory in some soli- tudes, and afTected retreats, than in the most exposed and conspicuous actions whatsoever. Ambition is not only in public places, and pompous circumstances, but at home, and in the interior Hfe ; heremits themselves are not recluse enough to seclude that subtle spirit — vanity: * Gloriari otio iners ambitio est: 'tis a most idle ambition to vaunt of idleness, and but a meer boast to lie concealed too apparently, ^ since it does but proclaim a desire of being observed. Wouldst thou be indeed retir'd, says the philosopher, let no man know it. Ambi- tion is never buried; reprcss'd it may be, not extinguish'd." — pp. 511-12. "Princes," he says soon after, " are shepherds, whose function it is not to play all day on the pipe, and make love to Amaryllis (did he borrow this from Lycidas, ' and sport with Amarillis in the shade ?'), but to attend to the good of their people." Well were
* Sen.Ep. 78.
dJ
Miscellaneous PFritings of John Evelyn. 41
it for Princes if this admirable commentary had always been appended to the Homeric iroifiiva Xawv. a commentary which shows how free from servility and adulation was theajfetackisd and devoted loyalty of Evelyn, .v .'^iT/^ i
'iiThe pair of pictures with which this essay is summed uptieserve ^traction: — ' - i- i\ ■ < m ■
" Let us therefore rather celebrate public employment and an afClive life, which renders us so nearly ally'd to virtue, defines ^nd hi'aintfifns our being-, Supports society, preserves kingdoms in p^acfe, iSrotects them in war; has discover'd new worlds, planted the go'fepel, (increases knowledge, cultivates arts, relieves the afflicted ; and in sum, without which the whole universe itself had still been but a rude and indi- gested chaos. Or if (to vie landskips with our Gelador) you had rather see it represented in picture, behohl here a sovereign sitting in his august assembly of parliament enacting wholesome laws ; next him my Lord Chancellor and the rest of the reverend judgas and ma- gistrates dispensing them for the good of the people; figure to your,- self a secretary of state, making his dispatches and receiving intetli- gence ; a statesman countermining some pernicious plot against the commonwealth ; here a general bravely embattailing his forct?s and vanquishing an enemy ; there a colony planting an island, and a bar- barous and solitary nation reduc'd to civihty ; cities, houses, forts, ships, building for society, shelter, defence, and commerce. In an- other table, the poor relieved and set to work, the. naked clad, the oppress'd deliver'd, the malefactor punish'd, the labourer busied, and the whole world employed for the benefit of mankind. In a word, behold him in the nearest resemblance to his almighty maker, always ill action, and always doing good. ,
" On the reverse, now represent to yourself, the goqdliest |)irte of the creation, sitting on a cushion picking his teeth ; his country-gen- tleman taking tobacco, and sleeping after a gorgeous m'l^al;' Ihefe walks a contemplator, like a ghost in a church-yard, or sits poring on a book whilst his family starves; here lies a gallant at the feH ot"'his pretty female, sighing and looking babies in her eyes, whilst she is reading the last new romance, and laughs at his folly; on yonder rock an anchorite at his beads ; there one picking daisies, another playing at push-pin, and abroad the young potcher with his dog and kite, breaking his neighbours' hedges or trampling o'er his corn for a' bird not worth sixpence : this sits basking himself in the sun, that quiver- ing in the cold ; here one drinks poyson, another hangs himself; for all these, and a thousand more, seem to prefer solitude and an inac- tive life as the most happy and eligible state of it. And thushfnife you land-skip for your land-skip." — pp. 551-2, , . , .,„, ,. ,
The History of the three late famous Impost&rtS^^f^i'^V^I^, is an interesting and entertaining account of personages who^e memory has now evaporated. The first, Padre OlLocaaao, was the child of a beauti/ul slave, whom the chief eunuch of Sultau
Miscellaneous Writings o/John Evelyn,
Ibrahim introduced into the seragho, in 1643, as nurse to the^ young Mohammed, his son. Ibrahim lavished such marks of affection on this child, (who nevertheless was born before the chief eunuch had purchased the mother,) that the Sultana became jealous, and ordered both the slave and her boy to be expelled from the seraglio. Ibrahim chose an odd revenge — in a fit of passion, he one day snatched his own son from the Sultana's arms, and very nearly drowned him in a fountain. So bitter was the hatred with which the Sultana persecuted the chief eunuch, in consequence of this outrage, that, in order to secure his per- sonal safety, he sought, and with the utmost difficulty obtained permission to absent himself a while on a pilgrimage to Mecca ; on which he carried in his retinue the beautiful slave and her boy^ The vessels which conveyed them were captured by some Maltese gallies ; and in the action Sciabas, the slave, (a Russian,) and the chief eunuch himself, were killed. The captors inquired the parentage of the child, and, in the hope of obtaining better quarter, the prisoners informed them that he was the son of the Sultan Ibrahim, going to Mecca for circumcision. The glory of so distinguished a prize delighted the Maltese, and was soon bruited abroad through all Europe ; so that, in the end, the Knights of the Order seriously thought of proposing to the Grand Signior the exchange of his captured son for their ancient seat in Rhodes. Letters to this effect were written to Constantinople ; nor was it till the year 1650, that the inquiries of a secret agent convinced them that their young prot^g^, very innocently, with- out any fraudulent intention on his own part, had been invested with honours not belonging to him. On the discovery of the illusion, they relinquished the ceremony with which they hitherto had treated him ; and having sent him into Italy for education, in the end they converted him into a Dominican friar.
Mahomed Bey, thesecond hero,whowas resident in England, and much noticed at the time at which Evelyn wrote, asserted himself to be John Michael Cigala, of the Imperial blood of theOttomans. The Viscount Cigala, who was taken prisoner by the Turks in I56I, had a son Scipio, who being captured together with hira, renounced the Christian faith. After this he was advanced, by Solyman the Magnificent, to the dignities of Grand Vizier, and Seraschier, or Generalissimo of the whole army ; and was married to the Canou Salie Sultana herself, the daughter and the sister of the Sultan. Of this marriage Mahomed Bey was the issue, and at a fitting age he was appointed Viceroy of the Holy Land ; to this post succeeded the government of Cyprus ; then, in consequence of many and great military exploits, the sovereignty of Babylon, Caramania, Magnesia, and other ample territories; artd lastly-,
Miscellaneous Writings o/ John Evelyn. 43
he was installed Viceroy of Trebesona, and Generalissimo of the Black Sea. Nohvithstanding these glittering prizes, miracles and supernatural influences had for a long time been largely at work to convert him to Christianity ; and he had, as he thought, secured a safe retreat in Moldavia, wherein he might avow his ntw reli* gion. The treachery of his chief agent revealed his design, and nearly cost him his life ; but happily he effected his escape, though wounded, and in piteous plight ; and after a tedious flight* through unknown ways, on foot, he joined the Cossaque army, where he found three soldiers whom formerly he had freed from Turkish captivity, and who, in return, generously made his quality known to their commander. Mahomed, however, in- tended to profess himself at Rome ; and the Cossaque, who was a heretic, could not abide the odour of Popery : so that the Prince was fain to steal away into Poland. Here the Queen re- ceived him with such distinguished honour, that he condescended to accept her Majesty as h>s sponsor, and to be baptized by the name of John, at the hands of the Archbishop of Warsaw, in the Metropolitan cathedral.
Loretto and Rome next received him ; and on his journey back, in sight of the Imperial and Turkish armies, having offered himself as a volunteer to the first, he slew the General of the last, fighting hand to hand. The Emperor, as in duty bound, gave him pre- sents of infinite value, and named him Guardian of his artillery. But even these honours could not prevail upon him, at the con- clusion of peace, to remain at Vienna ; and he continued his travels through Sicily, Calabria, Naples, the territory of the Church, and of Sardinia, till he arrived in Paris ; where he was courted by the Blood Royal and Nobility, lodged in a palace, and presented with medals of the King and Queen, appended to chains of gold.
Here, also, he compiled his Memoirs, from which the above adven- tures are taken; and having dedicated them to the French King, he crossed over into England. He was at first presented at Court in the Ottoman garb, and was well received by Charles H. ; till, by his evil stars, an Austrian and a Persian, both of high quality, who were ac- quainted with his real origin and history, accidentally meeting in London at the same time, exposed the imposture ; and proved the converted Turkish Prince, and Sovereign of Trebesona, to be the son of Christian parents in Walachia, who first had turned renegade at Constantinople, and afterwards had roamed about Europe, repeating his incredible tale to all who would listen, and finding many, who, as we have seen, not only listened, but who also believed.
The third impostor was Sabatai Sevi, the son of a Jew broker at Smyrna, who set his countrymen wild, in the year 1666, by
H Miscellaneous Wrtthigs of John Evel yn.
pretending to be the Messiah ; and Avho might, perhaps, have played a still more profitable game, if he had hxed upon England as his theatre of action. Those who have lived in the days of Jo- anna Southcote, and her still existing disciples, cannot be sur- prised at the following passage: —
" According to the predictions of several Christian writers, especi- ally of such who comment on the Apocalyps, or Revelations, this year of 1 66Q was to prove a year of wonders, of strange revolutions in the world, and particularly of blessing to the Jewes, either in respect of their conversion to the Christian faith, or of their restora- tion to their temporal kingdome ; this opinion was so dilated, and fixt in the countreys of the reformed religion, and in the heads of fanatical enthusiasts, who dreamed of a fifth monarchy, the downfall of the pope, and antichrist, and the greatness of the Jewes ; in so much, that this subtle people judged this year the time to stir, and to fit their motion according to the season of the modern prophecies ; whereupon strange reports flew from place to place, of the march of multitudes of people from unknown parts into the remote desarts of Arabia, supposed to be the ten tribes and halfe, loste for so many ages. That a ship was arrived in the northern parts of Scotland with her sails and cordage of silke, navigated by mariners who spake nothing but Hebrew ; with this motto on their sails, the Twelve Tribes of Israel. These reportes agreeing thus near to former predictions, put the wild sort of the world into an expectation of strange accidents this year should produce in reference to the Jewish monarchy." — p. 587.
Sabatai Sevi, though troviblesome, was neglected in his follies, till he talked of leading the Grand Sigr.ior himself captive in chains. The Stiltan had no taste for such an exercise of spiritual power ; and, sending for Sabatai, he promised to believe him on the evi- dence of a miracle, namely, that he should be stripped naked, and set up as a mark for archers, to prove his invulnerability. Sabatai, on this proposition, abandoned his pretensions : but this was not sufficient for the Sultan, and he ofiered him the choice, either of Mahomedanism or of impalement, the first of which was cheerfully j accepted. The Jews were confounded to hear that their Messiah had turned Turk ; and, as a last resource, they asserted with unblushing confidence, that it was the shadoAv only of Sabatai which remained on earth, and walked Avith a white head, and in the habit of a Mahometan : but that his natural body and soul were taken into heaven, there to reside until the time appointed for the accomplishment of the Avonders which he had promised.
We think that Padre Ottoman© is not a little ill-used by being associated as a third in this triad of impostors, for he was plainly rather an unconscious victim of the deceit of others, than a voluntary supporter of his own. The reader avIiq Avishes
Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn. 45
for more intimate acquaintance with the two other rogues, will find Cigala's adventures detailed by RocoUas, in Les Impostures Insignes ; and more of Sabatai Sevi, in the secfond part of I^ Croix's M^moires deV Empire Ottomane. ■ ' ' ' '^,' " '"' ''^
Navigation and Commerce, which appeared in 1674, 'p?6- fesses to give a history of trade and discoveries, especially as they regard the English, and also to vindicate the right of the English Crown to the dominion of the sea. This was intended as an introductory chapter to a History of the Dutch Tfar, which Evelyn had undertalcen at the Royal command, with leave of un- limited access to State papers. By the same command he desisted, after he had advanced a considerable way towards conclusion. The stoppage, it is shrewdly conjectured, was occasioned by his un- bending love of truth ; for there were but few transactions in tlie disgraceful reign of the Second Charles which would endure nar- ration from any pen but that of a courtly historiographer ; and if there is one which can be pointed out preeminent in abomination over another, it is that one which was here committed to the honestest man of his times. The arguments by which he supports the claim of right, asserted by the kings of England to the domi- nion of the seas, may be read as a specimen of the facility with vyhich even an upright mind may permit itself to become entangled !,in the maze of subtle distinction. Evelyn evidently had studied his subject; and all the learning, and all the sophistry, which had been so profusely poured out on the mare clausum and the mare liberum, was at hand and familiar to him. It was, piost probably, this very erudition which prevented him from a^Tjiyif^ at one plain and simple conclusion — that the original right. o{ na- tions over the sea is founded on the same basis as the right of nations over the land, — the lex fortioris, the claim of propinquity and of power ; of propinquity, which makes it easy towin ; of power, which makes it equally easy to retain that which has been won.
Evelyn is said to have failed whenever he applied his talents to verse : the single specimen of his powers in this department, pre- seiTed in the volume before us, does not justify this assertion. The Mundus Muliebris, or Lady's Dressing-room Unlock d, as the title itself bespeaks, does not aspire to the rank of Poetry ; but it may assume a very respectable position among Vers de So- cii^te ; and it has this paramount merit, that Avhile treating the same theme, it has nothing, but its title, in common with the dis- gusting piece which passes under the name of Swift. It is curious also, as transmitting the toilet slang of the time ; which, however little worth preserving, we know not where else to search for. The lofty head tire which was then in fashion, is described as emulat- ing: Bow Steeple, Grantham Spire, or the Septizonium at Rome ;
46 Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn.
and the ornaftients of his lady's chamber, perhaps, were not for- gotten by a more accomplished poet, when he sketched those of the apartment of Belinda: —
" The graceful oval and the round, This horse tire does quite confound ; And ears like satyr, large and raw, And bony face, and hollow jaw, This monstrous dress does now reveal. Which well-plac'd curls did once conceal. Besides all these, 'tis always meant You furnish her apartment With Moreclack tapestry, damask bed, Or velvet richly embroidered ; Branches, brassero, cassolets, A cofre-fort, and cabinets, Vasas of silver, porcelan, store To set, and range about the floor : ' The chimney furniture of plate
(For iron's now quite out of date) ; Tea-table, skreens, trunks, and stand. Large looking-glass, richly japann'd ; An hanging shelf, to which belongs Romances, plays, and amorous songs ; Repeating clocks the hour to show When to the play 'tis time to go. In pompous coach, or else sedan'd With equipage along the Strand, And with her new beau fopling mann'd."
" But I had almost quite forgot A tea and (likewise) chocolate pot. With molionet and caudle cup. Restoring breakfast to sup up ; Porcelan saucers, spoons of gold. Dishes that refin'd sugars hold ; Pastillos di Bocca we In box of beaten gold do see, Inchas'd with diamonds, and tweeze As rich and costly as all these. To which a bunch of onyxes And many a golden seal there dangles. Mysterious cyphers, and new fungles. Gold is her toothpick, gold her watch is, And gold is every thing she touches." — pp. 707. 709.
We must confess our weakness, however, and admit at once that the Tract with which this collection is wound up, and which was the last of Evelyn's works, Acetaria^ a Discourse of SalletSy 1699, is among our chief delicice. How exquisitely is the title*
Miscellaneous Writings of iohn Evelyn. 47
page mottoed, ov iravToi avBpd'i etrrtv aprvaai KaXwsl hoW apt IS the
proemium in its definition! " Saliets in general consist of certain esculent plants and herbs, improv'd by culture, industry, and art of the gardener ; or, as others say, they are a composition of edile plants and roots of several kinds, to be eaten ruAv or green, blanched or candied, simple and per se, or interaiingl'd with others, according to the season !" how laboriously does the body of the work enumerate the seventy-three materials which may be mingled with the oxelccuni of vinegar, pepper, and oil, so prefer- able to the oinomelita of Aristoxenus ! How feelingly does it dilate upon the qualities necessary for a skilful Acetarialegulist !
" What care and circumspection should attend the choice and col- lection of sallet herbs has been partly shew'd. I can therefore by no means approve of that extravagant fancy of some, who tell us, that a fool is as fit to be the gatherer of a sallet as a wiser man ; because, say they, one can hardly choose amiss, provided the plants be green, young, and tender, where-ever they meet with them. But sad expe- rience shews how many fatal mistakes have been committed by those who took the deadly cicuttB, hemlocks, aconits, &c. for garden per- sley and parsneps ; the myrrhis sylvestris, or cow-weed, for chaerophi- liuin (chervil) ; thapsda for fennel ; the wild chondrilla for succory ; dogs-mercury instead of spinach ; papaver corniadatum luteiim, and horn'd poppy, for eringo ; cenanthe aquatica for the palustral apium, and a world more, whose dire effects have been many times sudden death, and the cause of mortal accidents to those who have eaten of them unwittingly." — p. 760.
To which fearful catalogue may be added, the nameless venomous weed of which Mr. Staftbrd gravely assures us, (Phil. Trans. III. xi. p. 794,) " I have seen a man who was so poyson'd with it, that the skin peel'd off his face, and yet he never touch'd it, onely looked on it as he pass'd by." Again, what enthusiasm for the science is displayed in the following passages ! —
" We have said how necessary it is, that in the composure of a sallet every plant should come in to bear its part, without being overpower'd by some herb of a stronger taste, so as to endanger the native sapor and vertue of the rest, but fall into their places, like the notes in music, in which there should be nothing harsh or grating : and tho' admitting some discords (to distinguish and illustrate the rest) striking in the more sprightly, and sometimes gentler notes, reconcile all dissonancies, and melt them into an agreeable composition." — p. 763.
" From all which it appears, that a wise man is the proper com- poser of an excellent sallet, and how many transcendencies belong to an accomplisli'd sallet-dresser, so as to emerge an exact critic indeed. He should be skill'd in the degrees, terms, and various species of
48 Miscellaneous Writings of John Evelyn.
tastes, according to the scheme set us down in the tables of the learned Dr. Grew,* to which I refer the curious." — p. 764.
Would that we had room to transcribe at length the nine golden rules for dressing, without the study of which no man can ever hope even to contemplate m his mind's eye the beau ideal of a sallet! I. Of the culling, cleansing, washing, and dressing. — 11. Of the pallid olive greenness and the tastelessness of the oil. — III. Of the distill'd, aromatiz'd, or impregnated vinegar. — IV. Of the detersive, penetrating, quickening bay-salt. — V. Of the sound, weighty, sifted, and winnowed mustard flour, tempered to the consistence of pap. — VI. Of the strewings of pepper, not bruised to too small a dust. — VII. Of the yolks of new-laid eggs, mingled and mashed. — VIII. Of the silver knife disdaining all metallic relish. — IX. And last, of the porcelain saladiere, neither too deep nor shallow. We cannot bring ourselves to omit any portion of the receipt for the liquor, in which this food for the Gods is finally to swim: —
" Your herbs being handsomely parcell'd, and spread on a clean napkin before you, are to be mingl'd together in one of the earthen glaz'd dishes. Then, for the Oxoleon ; take of clear, and perfectly good oyl-olive, three parts ; of sharpest vinegar (sweetest of all con- diments i"), limon or juice of orange, one part ; and therein let steep some slices of horse-radish, with a little salt. Some in a separate vinegar, gently bruise a pod of Guinny-pepper, straining both the vinegars apart, to make use of either, or one alone, or of both, as they best like ; then add as much Tewkesbury, or other dry mustard grated, as will lie upon an half-crown piece. Beat and mingle all these very well together; but pour not on the oyl and vinegar 'till im- mediately before the sallet is ready to be eaten ; and then with the yolk of two new-laid eggs (boyl'd and prepar'd, as before is taught), squash and bruise them all into mash with a spoon ; and lastly, pour it all upon the herbs, stirring and mingling them till they are well and throughly imbib'd ; not forgetting the sprinkling of aromaticks, and such flowers as we have already mentioned, if you think fit, and gar- nishing the dish with the thin slices of horse-radish, red beet, ber- berries, &c.
" Note, That the liquids may be made more or less acid, as is most agreeable to your taste.
" These rules and prescriptions duly observed, you have a sallet (for a table of six or eight persons) dress'd and accommodated, seciindnm artem.^' — p. 744.
* Dr. Grew, Lecture vi. chap. 2, 3, read before the Royal Society.
t For so some pronounce it. V. Athenaeum, Deip. Lib. ii. cap. 26. ^Sos quasi tlBifffta, perhaps for that it incites appetite, and causes hunger, which is the best suuce.
Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, Sfc. 49
And here we must pause ; loth, indeed, not to dilate upon the remaining discourse on the wholesomeness of sallets ; on the au- thorities to be found for their use among the Chaldreans, the Assy- rians, and the Arabians ; on the probability of their having been the diet of the Antediluvians, as they certainly were of the Bramins and Gymnosophists, and of the Platonists and Pytha- goreans; of Xenocrates, Polemon, Zeno, Archinomus, Phraartes, and Chiron ; and, finally, on the brutality and impiety of the aimatophagy of the Occidental Blood-eaters. All these tempting topics we are compelled to fly from, with many a lingering look ; conscious that we have occupied a large, though by no means an undue, space, in affording our readers some gusto of a volume, upon which they may venture to make many a hearty meal.
Art. III. — The Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, tvifh regard to the Doctrine of a Future State. By Thomas Wil- liam Lancaster, M.A. Vicar of Banbury, and formerly Fellow of Queen's College, Oxford. Parker, Oxford ; and Rivingtons, London, 1825. pp. 470.
" j4 propos des dieux," says Gibbon, in the second volume of his miscellaneous works, " I remark in Juvenal that indecision, with respect to the gods, which is so common among the ancients. This moment, nothing can be more pious and philosophical than his resignation and faith ; the next, our own wisdom is sufficient for us, and prudence alone supplies the place of all the deities." The same indecision and the same inconsistency are still always observable in those who reject the light of revelation. Thus tho infidel Bolingbroke, at one time, declares, " I receive with joy the expectations which the prospect of immortality raises in my mind, — and the ancient and modern Epicureans provoke my in- dignation when they boast, as a mighty acquisition, their pre- tended certainty that the body and soul die together. If they had this certainty, could this discovery be so very comfortable ? I should have no difficulty which to choose, if the option were proposed to me, to exist after death, or to die whole."* At another time, he speaks of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, and a future state of rewards and punishments, as " invented by the ancient theists, philosophers, and legislators, to give an additional strength to the sanctions of the law of nature, and in- debted for its reception to the predominant pride of man ; since
• Vol. V. p. 491. VOL. I. E
50 Lancaster's //"wnwoM?/ of the Law and the Gospel, &,c.
every one was flattered by a system, that raised him in imagination abo^ e corporeal nature, and made him hope to pass an immor- taUty in tlie fellowship of the gods."* He asserts, that " reason will neither affirm nor deny a future state," and that " it cannot decide for it on principles' of natural theology ;"f that " it was originally an hypothesis, and may therefore be a vulgar eri'or, taken upon trust by the people, till it came to be disputed and denied by such as did examine ;" % that " there is not any thing, philosophically speaking, which obliges us to conclude that we are compounded of material and immaterial substance ;"§ that " it neither has been, nor can be proved, that the soul is a distinct substance united to the body ;" that " when we are dead all these (intellectual) faculties die with us ;" that " it might as reasonably be said, we shall walk eternally, as think eternally ;"1| and that all the phenomena from our birth to our death seem repugnant to the immateriality and immortality of the soul ; so that he is forced to conclude with Lucretius : —
— " Gigni pariter cum compore, et una
Crescere sentimus, pariterque senescere mentem."^
Nevertheless, out of sheer hatred to revelation, he urges it as a decisive argument against the divine original of the law of Moses, that he makes no express mention of future rewards and punishments, and uses no motive to induce the people to a strict observation of it, of a higher nature than promises of immediate good, and threatenings of immediate evil ; whence he concludes, that " it is absurd, as well as improper, to ascribe these Mosaical laws to God. Whether Moses had learnt among the schools of Egypt this doctrine, (of another life, wherein the crimes commit- ted in this life are to be punished,) cannot," he says, " be deter- mined ; but this may be advanced with assurance : If Moses knew that crimes, and therefore idolatry, one of the greatest, were to be punished in another life, he deceived the people in the covenant they made by his intenention Avith God. If he did not know it, I say it Avith horror, the consequence, according to the hypothesis I oppose, must be, that God deceived both him and them. In either case, a covenant or bargain was made, wherein the con- ditions of obedience and disobedience Avere not fully, nor by con- sequence fairly, stated ; the Israelites had better things to hope, and worse to fear, than those that were expressed in'it. And their whole history seems to show how much need they had of these additional motives to restrain them from polytheism and
* Vol. V. p. 228. Ibid. p. 237. f Ibid. p. 322. J Ibid. p. 3.^)2. § Vol. iii. p. 363. i| Ibid. p. 516. et seq. H Ibid. p. 557.
Lancaster*s l^rtmowy of the haw and the Gospel, Sfc. 51
idolatry, and to answer the assumed purpose of dhine provi dence,"*
These objections, though they came with a very ill grace from one who affirmed that the law of nature, (which he every where extols as bearing sufficient proofs of its divine original,) employs only temporal sanctions, and such as affect nations collectively, and not men individually, are, it must be acknowledged, ex- tremely plausible, and present us with an apparent difficulty ; for natural religion itself, which teaches us the unchangeable good- ness of the Deity, and the indispensable necessity of a future state of retribution to deter men from a vicious course of life, to support them in the practice of virtue, and to compensate for the unequal distribution of good and evil in this world, leads us, it may seem, to expect, that the knowledge of a trulh which, in every age, is equally necessary to individual happiness and the well-being of society, should in every age have been discovered to mankind with the fullest assurance of revelation. Cooler reasoners will discover at a glance the gross fallacy which this argument involves. To the infidel it seemed unanswerable. But whilst the deists were glorying in the impregnable position which their leader had chosen, there appeared a champion in the camp of Israel who boldly met him on his own ground, and maintained with equal confidence, and far superior powers, that the omission in the Mosaic law of the sanctions of a future state, affor<led in itself a direct and decisive proof of its divine origin ; for if the doctrine of a future state of retribution is so necessary to the well-being of civil society, that whatever religions or societies have no future state for their support, must be supported by an extraordinary Providence, the conclusion is inevitable, that the Mosaic dispen- sation, \vhich confessedly wanted this support, must have been supported by extraordinary interpositions of divine power, and, consequently, must have had a divine original. Such is the position which AV^arburton undertook to maintain in his immortal work, "The Divine Legation of Moses;" Avhere, in removing the objections that lay in his way, he was obliged to stretch tho inquiry so high and wide, that men of feebler minds, who were unable to follow him, aflected to acquire the praise of judgment and consistency, by condemning his love of paradox, his dog- matical boldness, and the strong but devious (light with which he swept through the boundless regions of science and learning : —
ri>OTrou iwfVTTiSiv, un,' v.Kvmioi^ uKr^cai iraiiivv, i/xarot \f)^Q.wv
OTpOffiOClPOVUTUl,
* Vol.v. p. 195. E 2
52 liailcaster's Hartftom) of the Law and the Gospel, Sfc.
TTrepuytop eperfioiaiv epeaaofievoi^
SefiviorripTf
TTOPov opTaXi'x^uiv oXtaavTei.*
Of this stupendous work, which will continue to the end of time to occupy a most conspicuous station amongst the noblest monuments of human wit, such is the immensity of the plan that ordinary readers are scarcely able to comprehend the pro- posed coherence and union of its parts ; nor, whilst they are forced to admire the exuberance of learning, and the indomitable vigour of original genius, which so profusely break forth in Warburton's delightful dissertations on the Eleusinian mysteries, and the Egyp- tian hieroglyphics, can they perceive in what possible way these most profound and fascinating essays could have been made con- ducive to his great purpose of proving the divine origin of the Mo- saic law. Had the author completed his original design, these pigmy cavillers might, perhaps, have acknoAvledged, that " throughout the body of his discourse, every former part was so contrived as to give strength to all that follow, and every latter to bring some light to all before ;" and, ashamed of their former prejudices, have run, as such are wont to do, into the opposite extreme, and blindly admired the wildest aberrations and exorbitances of his mighty mind.
But, with respect to this wonderful man, prejudice and par- tiality are now alike at rest ; and the work before us abundantly evinces, that the period is arrived in which other voyagers on the same vast ocean, in pursuing the track of this daring adventurer, may avail themselves of all his discoveries, and yet avoid the rocks and shoals on which his safety was so often endangered. It has been truly said of Warburton, that he appears to have read the works of others, not so much for the sake of profiting by their assistance, as that he might be certain of avoiding the beaten path, and striking out into some unknown and unexplored region. Somewhat of this tendency we have observed in Mr. Lancaster ; for, though his good sense has taught him to avoid the most plausible of Warburton's errors, the desire to appear original on an exhausted subject has. sometimes led him into untenable positions. His paradoxes, indeed, are less violent ; but it must also be acknowledged that he shows less ingenuity in maintaining them. Nevertheless, the " Harmony of the Law and the Gospel," though it can by no means pretend to rival the unequalled and gigantic powers which are displayed in the " Divine Legation," is creditable to Mr. Lancaster both as a Christian and a scholar : it contains a strong and perspicuous statement of the great truths
* jEschyl. Agam. 49— 54.
Lancaster's -Hrtrmow^i/ of the Law and the Gospel , S^c. 53
of the Christian religion ; it abounds in various learning ; has some specimens of acute and original criticism ; and, we need hardly say, is entirely exempt from that coarseness of invective, and that propensity to sarcasm, which sometimes led Warburtoa to the very verge of brutality and impiety ; qualities which could not have been tolerated in a professed satirist, and which were but more conspicuously misplaced in the graver pages of the theologian.
In Chap. I., it being first assumed, as a fact incapable of reason- able dispute, that future rewards and punishments do not form the subjects of direct and explicit revelation in the books of Moses, the subject of inquiry is clearly stated : —
" The volume of holy Script»n-e unfolds to the knowledge of man- kind a wonderful scheme of redemption, which has been appointed by God as the means of their deliverance from the penalties incurred by sin. This scheme is represented to have taken its rise immediately after the first transgression, and to have received its accomplishment in the publication of the gospel. Its beginning, the progressive stages ofits advancement, and its completion, are discovered to us in many successive revelations, which have been, at different periods extending through a long tract of time, communicated to the world by men divinely inspired and authorized.
'" Whatever variety may exist as to the time and circumstances of these several communications, it may reasonably be expected, that they should all agree in their reference to one great design of benevo- lence to the human race. And this expectation will not be disap- pointed by an examination of the holy Scriptures ; provided that such examination be conducted with that attention, that candour, and that deep humility, which are justly due from a creature in contemplating the ways and counsels of the all-wise and perfect Governor of the world. The reference for which we contend may not, indeed, on a separate consideration of each distinct portion of these writings, be always equally manifest ; but the truth of the principle will be readily acknowledged, if we bear in mind, as we ought to do, that every re- velation of the divine will which is therein recorded, however partial and restricted in its primary aspect, is to be regarded as having a connection, nearer or more remote, with that comprehensive purpose of mercy to fallen man which was to receive its completion in the gospel." — pp. 1-2.
As the several revelations which have been made from God to man have all, confessedly, the same benevolent design, we might expect, that however they might be diversified, as to the time or mode in which they were imparted, they would be at all times perfectly uniform as to the matter, degree, and extent of the knowledge conveyed. Here then arises a question : Why were those clear assurances of a future state, which are aflPorded to
54 Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, 8^c.
Christians under the Gospel, withheld in the law of Moses from the chosen people of God ? The answer to this inquiry forms the ])roper subject of the present work. Before he enters directly on his proposed task, there are two observations, however, which Mr. Lancaster thinks it right to premise : —
" My first observation is, that nothing is berP assumed respecting the silence of the Mosaic code on the subject of a future life, further than the absence qf all express declaration on that head. Explicit declaration is only one out of a great variety of modes by which truth may be made known, That a future state is not thus directly taught in the Pentateuch, is all that is at present asserted as the groundwork of the argument wliich is to follow. Whether this important doctrine may be gathered in the way of inference from the Mosaic writings ; whether those writings were designed to favour such an inference, and to cherish the hope of a triumph over the grave ; these are points which will properly offer themselves for discussion in the progress of our inquiry,
" Secondly, We shall consider as separate parts of one entire dispensation, all those various revelations contained in holy Scripture, in which God at sundiy times and in divers manners hath spoken to the world, from the fall of our first parents, down to the sealing up of the vision and prophecy under the Messiah. At the same time, it forms no part of the design of thi^ inquiry to take in the whole scheme of revealed religion ; its object being limited to a particular provision of the Mosaic law, for the purpose of illustrating the wisdom of that provision in its adjustment and adaptation to the general plan of which it forms a part. The scheme of man's redemption will be con- templated as it is set forth in holy writ ; and nothing further is pro- posed, than to prove, from a general view of this mystcrio\is economy, that the specific point selected for consideration, is perfectly consistent with the design of the whole, wisely adapted to promote its success, and perfectly agreeable to the divine attributes of goodness and mercy. If any thing further should be offered, it will be only inciden- tally, as occasion may happen in the course of our inquiry to suggest reflections, tending to vindicate the ways of Providence, to strengthen the obligations of piety and gratitude, and to silence the cavils of ignorance and presumption." — pp. 5-6.
Chap. IL contains the '* Reasons why the Doctrine of a Future State is not expressly taught in the Law of Moses ^ Since the whole system of divine revelation forms one entire dispensation, which has received its full developement in the Gospel when we inquire why the knowledge of a future state afforded to the Israel^ ites Avas, for many ages, so indistinct, it is evident, that we ought not to consider the subject simply as it affected that single people, but as having an ulterior reference to that glorious scheme of universal redemption, which, in the fulness of time God had
Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, Sfc. 55
decreed to accomplish : or, that we may state it in the words of Warburton : " The Patriarchal, the Jewish, and the Christian religions, all professed to come from the only one God, the Creator of all things. Now, as the whole race of mankind must be the common object of its Creator's care, all his revelations, even those given only to a part, must needs he thought ultimately directed to the interests of the whole : consequently, every later revelation must suppose the truth of the preceding. Again, when several successive revelations are given by him, some less, some more extensive, we must conclude them to be the parts of oxb ENTIRE DISPENSATION ; which, for rcasous best known to infinite Wisdom, are gradually enlarged and opened : consequently, every later must not only suppose the truth of every preceding revela- tion, but likewise their mutual relation and dependency."* That the atonement of Christ is the only warrantahle foundation on which a human creature can establish his hopes respecting a future life is justly stated by Mr. Lancaster to be the great fun- damental principle of pure Christianity ; whence he argues, that any explicit declarations respecting the felicity which is prepared for the faithful in a future state would Jiave been premature, if they had been conveyed before the performance of that merito- rious sacrifice ; or, at least, before a distinct explanation had been furnished to mankind of the only ground on which they could entertain any well-founded hopes relating to another world. In a subsequent part of the work, (pp. 338-340,) a very suffi- cient reason is given, why the mode of human redemption was not distinctly revealed ; viz. that such an explicit discovery would have defeated its own purpose ; men would not have dared to put to death Him whom they recognised as the Son of God, the pro mised Redeemer of the Avorld. The Israelites, who lived under the law, might derive from it di general {a\{\\ in the Messiah, but could not frame any distinct conception of the peculiar nature of that great atonement, by which the sins of the faithful were to be expiated. Under these circumstances, a promise of immortal life, conveyed in the law, Avould have been understood as a pro- hiise annexed to the observance of the law ; and, consefpienlly, ol)edience to that laAv would have been regarded as constituting a meritorious title to eternal life.
On the supposition, that the promise of life and immortality, which have been •* brought to light through the gospel," f were not, what it now is, the ])eculiar distinction of the evangelical covenant, but had been a mere rej)etition of a promise already given in the law, Christianity, Mr. Lancasli^r justly argues,
♦ Div. Leg. b. 5. sect. 2. vol. iii. p. 37. ed. 1788. f 2 Tim. i. 10.
56 Lancaster's i?armoMy of the Law and the Gospel, ^c.
would have been robbed of that very attraction which chiefly re- commended it to the hearts of its early converts ; and the Jews would have been confirmed in all their prejudices respecting the excellency and sufficiency of the Mosaic dispensation, if their law, which, being weak, was unable to give everlasting life, had nevertheless jt^/mw/y assured them of it. But —
" It is to be remembered, that the ancient people of Israel are not the only persons whose welfare is involved in this question. The Mo- saic code was destined to form a standard portion of the volume of in- spiration, for the perpetual instruction and edification of mankind in general,* after its ceremonial and political enactments had been abro- g'ated in favour of a more perfect and comprehensive dispensation. What now, in its influence on the general welfare of man, must have been the consequence of introducing into it any positive declarations respecting a future state ? What effect would thus have been produced on the religious sentiments of those who should in after-ages embrace the Gospel ? Would it not have led them to contemplate a legal obe- dience as the ground of justification ? When it was discovered, that a promise of everlasting happiness had been conveyed by the divine law to those ages and generations to whom the manner of our redemp- tion was a mystery, would it not have been difficult to persuade men, that the merits and sacrifice of Christ are the only just foundation of their hopes respecting a future state? Would not they have been prone to overlook the connection which subsists between the cross of Christ and their own salvation? There are those who deny the neces- sity and efficacy of an atonement as the means of reconciliation be- tween God and man. Would not such opinions have enjoyed, on our present supposition, a show of countenance and support from Scrip- ture, of which they are now destitute ?" — pp. 19-20.
Having thus shown, that the doctrine of a future state is not explicitly revealed in the books of Moses, and having assigned the reasons for its omission, Mr. Lancaster, in Chaps. IIL and IV. proceeds to prove, that " the doctrine of a future state ivas al- ways entertained by the Israelites, from the very earliest period of their history ;" and to " inquire into the sources from which they may have derived it." On this point, he is directly opposed to Warburton ; Avho, having proved " that Moses did not teach a future state of reward and punishment, and that he omitted it with design ; that he understood its great importance to society, and that he provided for the want of it ; endeavours, in the fifth and sixth sections of his fifth book, to establish it as a necessary consequence, that therefore the Jewish people had not the know-
* " Whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." Rom. xr. 4,
Ijancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, 6fc. 57
Udge of that doctrine f' or, as he subsequently qualifies his po- sition, that " the body of the early Jews had no expectations of a future state of rewards and punishments." * These opinions appear to have been adopted, in their full extent, by Mr, Davi- son, in his late Warburtonian lectures ; the subject, therefore, besides its intrinsic importance, acquires an additional claim to our present attention. •
With respect to the degree and extent of religious knowledge in general, the Jewish people, as compared with the rest of man- kind, were placed on very advantageous grounds. " What advan- tage hath the Jews i"' says St. Paul ; " Much every way"\
" Now the belief of a future state has been entertained in every age to which the memory of the world extends, and by every nation among whom any religious sentiments have been found to exist. On the in- estimable vahie of this doctrine in its tendency to promote the happi- ness of mankind ; on its importance as the great incitement to virtue, the main pillar and support of human society, the sanction and en- forcement of morality ; on its connection with the private duties of individuals, and the public welfare of civil communities : we need not expatiate. That it is the anchor of the soid when beaten by the blasts and storms of adversity ; that it is of absolute necessity in order to sustain and invigorate the spirits of suffering innocence under the dis- couragement of an unequal Providence ; that it provides the most effectual restraint upon the evil passions of mankind ; that the wisest provisions of legislative policy, unaided by its support, are but feeble barriers against violence and injustice; these arc principles, so gene- rally recognised by common acknowledgment, that they seem to border upon the character of self-evident truths. We need not dwell upon the hardship of man being accotuitablc, without knowing that he is so; of his being capable of everlasting happiness, without in- citement to labour after it ; of his being subject to retribution, and yet not aware of his danger. Neither the advantages connected with the belief of this doctrine, nor the miseries attendant upon the want of it, can be denied or disputed. On the whole, it may be asserted, that, of all the doctrines of revealed religion, there is none so import- ant in its consequences, none so interesting to the feelings of mankind, none attended with such a powerful moral influence, as the doctrine of a future state of reward and punishment.
" Can it then be deemed consistent with the notion of a people peculiarly favoured by God, that they should continue for nine hun- dred years, J excluded from participating in a benefit, which during the same period was enjoyed by every other nation in the world, even
* Div. Leg. b. V. sect. 5. vol. iii. p. 151. t Rom. iii. 1, 2.
X The law was given (according to the common chronology) 1491 years, and the captivity took place 588 years, before the Christian era : the intervening space thus amounting to 903 years.
So Tjahcasieri Harmom/ of the Law and the Gospel, 8fc.
the most idolatrous and wicked? Shall we, in conformity with the langTiage of St. Paul, admit that they had in every respect much ad- vantage over the rest of mankind ; and shall we yet believe that they were totally destitute of that doctrine which is more essential to the hap- piness of man than any other religious principle whatever ?" — pp. 30-32,
This, if it be not proof, is, at least, strong presumption ; and, admitting the validity of the reasoning by which it is supported, admitting even that the religious condition of the Israelite was not inferior to that of the Gentile; we must infer, that if the be- lief of a future state was entertained by the Gentile Avorld, it must have been entertained in common with them by this peculiar nation. In the fourth chapter, therefore, which is divided into three sections, Mr. Lancaster proceeds, first, to " Inquire into the origin of the belief in a future state, considered as a doc- trine belonging to the universal religion of mankind ; secondly, to show, " that the silence of the Mosaic Law would have no tendency to eradicate from the mind of the Israelite that belief in a future state, tvhich, independently of that law, he would have entertahied in common with the rest of the ivorld ; and thirdly, that " the ivritings of 3Ioses were specially adapted to countenance the belief in a future state.'' The inquiry into the sources from which mankind in general might have derived their belief in that doctrine of a future stqte, which was universally in- corporated into the religious systems of the Gentile world, is pre- faced by these judicious reflections : —
" But, on the other hand, it is a principle highly important to our ar- gupnent, that the universality of this belief in a future retribution be re- garded as the result of a special appointment of the divine will. We ^re fully warranted in so regarding it : nay, we cannot without impiety regard it otherwise, even though the secondary causes, through which that will has been carried into effect, may lie concealed from our view. It is not necessary in order to recognise an appointment of Providence, that we should be able to trace the various successive steps which have intervened between its first origin and its final accomplishment. The mode of operation belonging to sonie of the most important laws which regulate the movements of the natural creation, will ever baffle the utmost penetration and sagacity of man : such are the gravitation of bodies, the process of vegetation, and the connection subsisting be- tween the volition and the motions of animal life. Now as we alike refer to God, as their author, both the dispensations of revealed reli- gion and the constitution of the natural world, it is reasonable to sup- pose, that a similarity of proceeding should be observable in both. It cannot therefore be recjuired, that we should distinctly unfold all the means which nuiy have been employed by Infinite Wisdom, for the purpose of bringing about a general concurrence in the expectations of mankind respecting a future retribution. Methods may have been era-
Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, Sfc. 59
ployed, and those too of powerful operation, with a view to this end, which the unsearchable wisdom of tiod may have judi^ed it right td withhold from the knowledge of his creatures.* The possible employ* ment of such methods we may well conceive. This ought to be borne in mind as a weighty consideration in the reasoning which is about tq be introduced ; since it is atlequate to supply any deficiency of proof under which that reasoning may be supposed to labour." — pp.37-8-9.
Among the causes which may have operated to produce a ge-f neral belief" in the doctrine of a future retribution, Mr. Lancaster insists chiefly on those arguments in its favour, which arise from the antediluvian records of the sentence passed on our first parents; the murder of Abel, and the translation of Enoch. His remarks on the death of Abel are particularly deserving of attention : —
" What feelings, then, must have been excited in the bosoms of the first parents of mankind by this tragical occurrence ? when they be- held their son carried olf by a premature death, in consequence of an act, which was acceptable tq God, which hiid Ix'en performed In submissive conformity to his will, and with a confident reliance on his protection and blessing. Nothing but the belief in a future stato could have placed the transaction in a light consistent with what they knew^ respecting the perfections of the Supreme Being. Had they Viewed it apart from tlie prospect of retribution in another life, the dreadfid calamity must have led to conclusions still more distressing than the event itself. It must have induced a conclusion, that a con- formity to the will of God is of no avail towards conciliating his favour; that final destruction would be the probal)le consequence of devotion to his service ; that God is 7iot the rewarder of them tliat diligently seek him; and that there is /lo reward for the righteous. On such a view of the subject, the fear aiul service of God mu.st have been at an end : religion and virtue must have become totally extinct among men : wickedness and injustice must have obtained a univerr sal dominion. That this result did not actually follow, can be cx- plained'only by supposing, that the belief in a fiiture retribution wasj entertained by our first parents." — pp. 44-45.
* " ' Tlierc might possibly be among the few faithful in the world a traditionary exposition of the promises of God, grounded upon more express revelations, n)ade either before or soon after the flood, than have come down to our times' Bishop Sherlock's Dissertations, Diss. II. p. 17f), in the 4th vol. of his works, edit. Oxford, 1812. The observation relates to llie celebrated passaafo in Job, xix. 25,26,27. The term promiset is not, indeed, strictly agreeable to the views maintained in this treatise ; but we may by a parity of reasoning suppose, that means sufficiently effi- cacious may have been providentially employed for tlie same purpose, of which medns no knowledge has been transmitted to us. But indeed I do not object to the above term, provided that nothing further is understood by it thau the promise of a Messiah, the blessedness of whose expected advent could in no other way have been reasonably understood, than by reprarding him as the author of everlasting life, and of man's deliverance from the effects of the fall."
f'.
60 Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, Sfc.
In addition to the evidence which these transactions supply, he argues, that departed spirits may have been permitted to hold communications with men. That the dead have sometimes been restored to hfe is an undoubted truth of revelation ; and they who are disposed to treat this hypothesis with ridicule, may do well to consider the arguments of Addison in its favour.*
But there are persons who would at once set aside all argu- ments which are founded on the scriptural records of the ante- diluvian wo^-ld. The question then will be, from what other source did mankind derive their universal belief of a future state ? Reason, Mr. Lancaster argues, could not possibly discover that the soul is capable of existing after the dissolution of the body, nor establish a conviction of its immateriality. But if it were as- sumed, as by many ancient philosophers, and some of the early Christian writers, (to whom we may add many of the modern So- cinians,) it has been assumed, that the soul is material ; " to imagine that unassisted reason should conduct man to a belief that the soul was, at the same time, both corporeal and imperish- able, is an absurdity at which the judgment of every candid person must revolt."
The necessity of future rewards and punishments (which obvi- ously imply the future existence of the soul,) is often insisted on, as deducible, from the consideration of the moral attributes of the Deity. " When it came to be seen," says Warburton, " that God was not alivays a rewarder and a punisher here, men necessarily concluded, from his moral attributes, that he would be so here- after; and consequently, that this life was but a small portion of human duration." f On this great principle of natural theology, the remarks of Mr. l^ancaster are very unsatisfactory ; and, we are sorry to add, as far as Warburton is concerned, very unjust ; for he argues as if it was the design of that distinguished prelate to place religion on a different basis from that which the apostle requires : " Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid ; which is Jesus Christ." % No man knows better than Mr. Lan- caster, that, in the very first section of the " Divine Legation," Warburton vinequivocally asserts, that no one well versed in the internal evidence of the Christian religion can be ignorant of this important principle : that The Doctrine of Redemption is THE VERY Essence of Christianity ; and that, in the ninth book, he expatiates at length on the Divine Goodness, which " so graciously displayed itself, in the restoration of our lost inhe-
* Spectator, No. 110.
t Div. Leg. b. v. Append, vol. iii. p. 185. edit. 4to. 1788.
% lCor.Ui.ll.
Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel^ 8$c. 61»
ritance, by changing the condition annexed to eternal life, from something to be done, to something to be believed. And this was Faith in our Redeemer,"
Mr. Lancaster next attempts to prove, that natural religion could never teach men to expect a state of future reward : —
" When, among' those promiscuous dispensations which now cha- racterise the providential government of the world, wickedness is behehl to flourish prosperous and triumphant to the end of life ; then, if the moral attributes of God be firmly believed, reason has doubtless a strong ground for calculating on a future retribution. Thus far the conclusion is inevitable : but how far does it extend ? Certainly no farther than to establish the prospect of a future punishment to the wicked. But how the reason of man, wholly unenlightened from above, can establish on such considerations the proof of a future reward, is quite inexplicable." — pp. 73-4.
The proposition here is incompletely stated. We not only see wickedness triumphant and prosperous, but virtue oppressed and abided, to the end of life ; the conclusion, therefore, is as valid to establish the prospect of future rewards to the virtuous, as of punishment to the evil. The whole analogy of nature, and the present system of God's moral government, in which virtue, as such, is honoured and rewarded, confirm this conclusion. When Mr. Lancaster affirms, that it is quite inexplicable how human reason, ivholly unenlightened from above, can establish, on such considerations, the proof of a future reward, he completely changes the terms of the proposition ; for human reason (as he himself has taken great pains to prove) never has been wholly unenlightened from above on this momentous subject ; and how, with the traditionary doctrine of a future state, it slioidd have arrived, on the principles of natural religion, at the hope of a future reward, is a matter easily ex[)lained. For if God designs the happiness of the virtuous, " and is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him,"* then, since the virtuous are not always re- warded in this life, reason would lead us to expect a future state of retribution. That " natural religion can neither give us any certain clear security of a future life, nor means to attain it,"f we fully admit: but it is at least as true with respect to the future punishments of the wicked, as the future rewards of the virtuous. The doctrine of eternal punishments, prepared for the Avicked in a future state, certainly is not, as Mr. Lancaster represents it, more agreeable to natural reason, than the hope of future rewards to virtue. The truth is, neither could be known, except through the medium of a Divine Revelation.
* Heb. xi. 6. t Ellis'* «« Knowledge of Divine Things," p. 422.
62 Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel y Sfc,
The remainder of this section is taken up in an analysis of the Phffidon, &c. of Plato ; and in a summary statement of the opi- nions, concerning the immortality of the soul, and a future state of retribution, which were held by the different schools and teachers of ancient philosophy. This inquiry is conducted with great ability, and every where displays the fruits of various read- ing and sound judgment. Even those who may think with us, that he hardly does impartial justice either to the arguments for the soul's immortality, which Plato has adduced in his PhEcdon, Phsedrus, and Republic, or to his sincerity in maintaining them ; will agree, at least, in his concluding reflections, that all that Plato suggests
" Is little available for the conviction of your understanding or the assurance of your hopes : and the best improvement which you can gather from it is, to feel the natural darkness of the human mind, to confess the want of divine illumination, and to be thankfol to the Fa- ther of mercies and the God of all comfort, who, in raising Jesus from the dead, hath afforded to all men a proof of immortality, alike suited to the nature of their faculties and the satisfaction of their desires." — ' p. 87.
Having thus satisfactorily proved the universal prevalence among mankind of the belief in a future state, in the following section Mr. Lancaster proceeds to show, that the silence of the Mosaic Law would have no tendency to eradicate from the mind of the Israelite that belief, which, independently of that law, he would have entertained in common with the rest of the world. The question is : How could such belief vanish from their minds ? Why should they now surrender those pleasing hopes and fond desires, to which human nature is found, in general, so tenaci- ously to adhere P" — p. 156.
The answer to this question is presented in the words of War- burton : — " While God exactly distributed his rewards and punish- ments here, the light of reason directed men to look no farther for the sanction of his laws: but when it came to be seen, that he was not ahvays a rcAvarder and a punisher here, men necessarily concluded, from his moral attributes, that he would be so here- after : and consequently, that this life was but a small portion of the human duration. In this manner was a future state brought, by natural light, into religion : and from thenceforth became a necessary part of it. But under the Jewish theocracy, God was an exact rewarder and punisher here. Natural light, therefore, evinced, that under such an administration, the sub- ject of it did not become liable to future punishments, till this sanction was known among them." *
* Div. Leg;. Append, to b. v.
Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospelj 8fc, 63>
Mr. Lancaster shows with great force, that the egregious fal- lacy of this argument of Warlmrton's consists in his employing the words extraordinary providence and equal providence as equivalent terms :* that the extraordinary providence under which the Jews were actually placed, instead of removing the inequaU-* ties which occur in the general system of God's moral govern- ment, would, in numberless instances, be found to multiply them ; and consequently, that such an administration could never operate to veil ihe prospects of a future life.
It is the object of the third section of this important chapter to prove, that " the writings of Moses were specially adapted to. countenance the belief of a future state." It was a signal ad-t vantage, he argues, that with respect to those transactions of the antediluvian world, from which he su{)poses that the Gentiles derived the notion of a future state, the belief of the Israelite was grounded on the authentic records of sacred truth, whilst the be- lief of the Gentile rested on no otlier foundation than a tradition orally transmitted through the medium of Noah to his posterity." But the point on which he chiefly insists is, the prophetic decla- rations of the Messiah, which are delivered in the Pentateuch, and more fully developed in the volumes of succeeding pro- phecy: " the structure of the revealed word," he says, " was so framed, that the j)romise of a Messiah should be understood to comprise within it the promise of everlasting life; and that the hope of everlasting hfe might be afforded only in connection with faith in him, who, in the fulness of time, was to purchase it for mankind." — p, 174.
It is easy, indeed, for Mr. Lancaster, who possesses, in the New Testament, a key to the right interpretation of the Old, so to combine these hopes and promises : but was the belief of the Israelite in a future state thus actually held in connection with faith in the Redeemer ? Is not the supposition at variance even with his own hypothesis, that the Jews, though they had the knowledge of a future state, and a general anticipation of a Re- deemer, were altogether ignorant of the means whereby eternal life v.as to be restored to the sons of Adam 'r' Lastly, we must be permitted to ask, is there any thing in Warburton himself more fantastical, or more paradoxical, than this attempt to prove that the writings of Moses are specially adapted to inculcate the belief of a future state, though the very existence of a future state is not once mentioned in them ?
• " I used, throughout my whole discourse of the Jewish economy, the words extra or dinar If providatce and equal providence, as equivalent terms." Note [A A] to b. v,of theDiv.Leg.
64 Lancastef^s Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, <^<?.
Chap, v., which is also divided into three sections, on the ori- gin, the meaning, and the uses of sacrifice, is, perhaps, the most carefully written of any in the whole work ; great pains have been bestowed on it, and it merits close attention. Sacri- fice, in the present inquiry, is restricted to that species of offer- ing which is distinguished by the mactation of a living victim ; and is considered to be a symbolical institution, in which man is set forth as a sinner and a penitent ; and his Maker, as a God forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin. In this view, it is re- garded as a particular provision, which was calculated at once to confirm the hope of a future life, and to obviate the pei-version of that hope ; so that the prospect of immortal happiness, as the reward of well-doing, might be guarded from all association with opinions, which derogate from the freedom of Divine grace, and contradict the scheme of redemption : —
" The prevalence of this rite having been commensurate with the belief in a future retribution, afforded therefore a suitable corrective to any errors which might have been grafted upon it. It was adapted to silence the plea of human merit, and to bring out to view (as far as man, in the early and imperfect stages of a progressive scheme, was capable of viewing it,) the only real ground of justification and accept- ance before God. Hence do we obtain a corroborative testimony to the validity of the reasoning we have pursued, respecting the omission of a fiiture state as a sanction to the Mosaic law. And we discover, at the same time, a remarkable instance of the harmony which per- vades the divine dispensations in the economy of the old and new covenants." — p. 119.
With respect to the origin of sacrifice, Mr. Lancaster success- fully maintains its divine institution against Spencer, Sykes, and Warburton, who preposterously maintained, that both the act of sacrifice, and the matter of sacrifice, were the simple dictates of natural reason. But even in this part of the work, notwithstand- ing all the labour he has bestowed on it, treading, as he does, in a beaten path, it is evident, that Mr. Lancaster has weakened his argument, and fettered his own movements, by his anxiety not to step in the traces of his predecessors.
They who have read the dissertations on sacrifice, in Archbishop Magee's work on " The Atonement," (and who, that has once read, can ever forget them ?) will perceive how greatly Mr. Lan- caster has impaired his general proof of the harmony of the Law and the Gospel in this respect, by his endeavour to show, that the institution of sacrifice was designed chiefly to operate as a check on the pernicious tendency of that special aptitude to encourage the belief of a future state, which he, of all manlund, has first discoveretl in the Pentateuch.
Lancaster's Harmony of the Latv and the Gospel, SfC, 65
The two succeeding sections, on the " Meaning of Sacrifice," and " The Use and Importance of Sacrifice, considered as a subordinate and temporary Provision belonging to the general Plan of revealed Religion," are not liable to this objection. Sacrifice may be said to consist of two parts, a sacrament, and an emblem : —
" As a sacrament, it was the appointed means of conveying to the faithful worshipper the pardon of his sins and acceptance with God. As an emblem, it was desinfned to be the vehicle of instruction. And the kind of instruction it was intended to convey, would naturally be suggested by the contemplation of its piacular and vicarious character. It would be viewed, to use the words of an excellent prelate, ' as a sensible and striking representation of a punishment, which the sin- ner was conscious he deserved from God's justice : and then, on the part of God, it would be a public declaration of his holy displeasure against sin, and of his merciful compassion to the sinner.'*
" It was an appointment of infinite wisdom, that the great consum- mation of sacrifice by the crucifixion of the Son of God should not be carried into effect, till mankind for a long series of ages had expe- rienced the evils connected with their fallen state, and resulting from the first transgression. By the same wisdom it was decreed, that the mystery of onr redemption should be hid from ages and from genera- tions. But the Lamb of God was, in the eternal purpose of God, slain before the foundation of the world : and numbers have been saved through his merits before the Divine purpose was actually fiilfilled, numbers to whom, though the general promise of a deliverance was known, the manner of that deliverance was never unfolded. Mean- time, while the great design was in preparation and progress, while it was veiled under an awful darkness, impenetrable to mortal eyes; it was fit that man should be taught, what was his own condition by na- ture, and what was the relation in which he stood to his Creator. This, I say, was fit, in order that he might be qualified for mercy and accept- ance on snch terms, as should be consistent with the inviolable attri- butes of God, and should not derogate from the authority of that law, which the Divine holiness was concerned to maintain.
" Such was the use of that instruction which sacrifice was designed to afford. Man was hereby brought to feel and to acknowledge his guilty character and helpless condition ; he saw, in the mode of wor- ship prescribed for him, an affecting representation of that punishment which he had incurred ; he was made sensible, that an awful satisfac- tion was d\ie to the Divine justice before he could be capable of pardon : and yet, he was cheered with an assurance, that the Deity was not implacable, but that mercy might in some way or other be obtained."
* Magce OR Atoncm«nt and Sacrifice, voli i. p. 40. VOL, 1, F
66 Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, 8$c.
" Thus was the pleu of self-righteousness put to silence, and the humility of the contrite was raised into hope : and thus were laid the great foundations of an evangelical justification before the Gospel itself was published. The darkness of natural ignorance, under which reli- gious hope and comfort, together with every incitement to obedience, would have been extinct, was relieved by a slender light, till the Sun of righteousness should himself arise and confer a more abundant illu- mination."—pp. 236-7-8.
In Chap. VI., " The Examination of Scriptural Testimotiies, in Support of the Doctrine which has been maintained in the foregoing Chapters,^' is conducted with great ability. We have no room for quotations ; but desire to point out to particular notice the whole of the latter part of this chapter, from p. 263 to p. 300 ; in which he examines in detail, and triumphantly con- futes, the arguments of Warburton, that the Jews had no know- ledge of the separate and personal existence of the soul in a future state, and, consequently, no expectation of future rewards and punishments.
In Chap. VII., some " other remarkable instances of omission in the Mosaic code" are noticed and explained. First, with re- spect to prayer : —
" The omission of this subject in the Pentateuch can admit no other reasonable explanation than the following. The law which Moses gave contained not in itself any thing, which could render prayer ac- ceptable to God or effectual for the benefit of the worshipper. This could be accomplished only through the atonement of Christ. No man Cometh unto the Father but by him. The promise is to those who shall ask in his name. We are to draw near in full assurance of faith, and to come boldly unto the throne of grace, because we have a great High Priest, who i» passed into the heavens.* It would therefore have been premature, if this great distinction of the Gospel had been anticipated in the Mosaic dispensation. For it could never have been the sanction of that law : and if it had been introduced in any other form, it would naturally have been regarded as a sanction. Thus would it have thrown a shade over the riches, the splendour, and the beauty, of the Gospel : since these are most conspicuous, when seen in contrast with the imperfections attendant on all the former stages in the progressive advancement of revelation.
" The observance of pi-ayer as a religious exercise is manifestly sup- posed and recognised in the Pentateuch ; as must appear from the instances to which we have already adverted, and also from a variety of facts which occur to us in the narrative of that book. But still we find not in the writings of Moses any precept, declaratory of its gene-.
• Heb. iv. 14, 16, 16.
Lancaster's Harmony of the Law and the Gospel, S)C. 67
1^1 obligation ; nor any promise, that it should be offered with effect to the worshipper." — pp. 310-311.
In the next place, with respect to the doctrine of sanctification by the Holy Spirit ; the promise of the Holy Spirit, as an active power of sanctification in the heart of man, formed no part of the law, but belongs exclusively to the New Covenant of the Gospel : * —
" Shall we then say, that the sanctifying graces of God's Spirit were altogether withholden from all who lived under the Mosaic covenant? Certainly not : because, had tliis been the case, we should not have read, as we now do, of holy men, living under that law, whose faith and piety were acceptable to God. To assert, witli regard to these characters, that the principle of sanctification was, or could be, derived from any other source than the Spirit of God ; can never be main- tained by any but a Pelagian. The true state of the case is explained with admirable clearness and brevity by Bishop Bull : ' The Spirit of God was given under the law, but not by virtue oythe law.' "f — p. 312.
Of the remaining chapters, the VIHth insists on the harmo- nious consistency which pervades the various dispensations and successive epochs of revealed religion, as affording the most con- vincing evidence of its truth. The IXth and Xth, in which the want of antiquity and universality in the scheme of revelation are considered, are thrown in " mantissce loco" and, to say the truth, seem rather out of place ; they contain, however, some ingenious and forcible arguments, and are marked throughout by that spirit of sincere and enlightened piety, which shines in every page of this truly Christian writer. We will conclude our extracts from the present work with the following eloquent passage i—
" Thus doth the whole body of Scripture, however detached may be its parts, however varied its temporary and relative provisions, exhibit to the view one united system. This harmonious character is princi- pally seen, in the concurrent reference of all its parts to the plan of our redemption through the sacrifice of Christ. Every separate por- tion of revealed religion has a connection, nearer or more distant, with this leading purpose. Each distinct provision is subordinate and sub- servient to this. It is either auxiliary to it, or illustrative of it. Re- demption is the great centre-point of scriptural instruction : every other Divine ordinance either meets in this ])oint, or diverges from it< The doctrine of the Atonement is the great and leading doctrine of the Bible from beginning to end. This was darkly intimated to fallen man, before he was expelled from the abode of innocence and bliss.
♦ Jer, xxxi. 33. ,
t " Sub lege quidem, at non ex leg^e." t^arm. Apost. Diss, II. c, xi, §, 4,
f2
68 Blomfield's Chotpkoroe.
The sacrifices offered by the faithful immediately after the fall, were in unison with this intimation. Abraham rejoiced in it when he saw the day of Christ afar off. The bloody ordinances of the Levitical law shadowed out the same truth in emblem and mystery. The sweet psalmist of Israel spoke a congenial language, when he painted the sufferings of him who was to be the Saviour of men. In strains of mingled sadness and triumph, the prophetic song announced the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, who was bruised for our trans- gressions and wounded for our iniquities : and it bore also, in differ- ent ages of the Jewish church, a varied, yet harmonious, testimony, to the great Personage in whom that truth was substantially verified. The latest prophet under the Law, and the immediate harbinger of the Messiah, proclaims the same truth, when he announces Christ as the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world. Christ himself declares the doctrine, he verifies, and bears witness to it in his death. The apostles proclaim our Redeemer, as him whom God hath set forth to be a sacrifice and propitiation for the sins of the whole world. The holy martyrs under the agonies of death and tor- ture testify the same. Nor does the attestation of it stop here. After the church militant hath maintained it throughout every stage of its warfare, the church triumphant takes up the heavenly theme, resound- ing it in hymns of exultation and praise to the end of time. It was first heard in the terrestrial Eden, and it ceases not to be heard in the songs of the blessed spirits who inhabit the celestial paradise : * Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.'"* — pp. 326-7.
Art. IV.— aisxyaoy xoh^opoi. JESCHYLI CHOE-
PHORGi^. Ad fidem Manuscrijitorum emendavit, Notas et Glossarium adjecit Carolus Jacobus Blornfield, S. T. P. Col- legii SS. Trinitatis apud Cantabrigienses olim Socius. Can- tabrigiae, Typis ac sumtibus Academicis excudit Joannes Smith. Veneunt Londini apud J. Mawman. Cantabrigiae apud J. Deighton et Filios, 1824.
In proceeding to give an account of the progress of Dr. Blom- field's labours upon the father of Grecian tragedy, we have un- feigned satisfaction in knowing, that we are to review a work, not of Dr. Blomfield merely, but of the Bishop of Chester. The station of a writer indeed neither has, nor ought to have, the
* Rfiv.r. J2.
Blomfield's Chodphoroe. 69
slightest effect upoo the mind of him who proposes to give an impartial account of his performance ; but we must be permitted to express our honest gratification, that so sound a classical scholar, as we knoiv Dr. B. to be, and so good a parish priest^ as we believe him to be, has attracted the notice of those, who have it most in their power to promote the interests of learning, and render substantial service to the cause of religion ; and that he has been so appropriately seated in the episcopal chair, heretofore occupied by the stupendous learning, and the edifying piety of a Walton and a Pearson !
The name of Pearson, indeed, was an omen of good to his present successor, the editor of ^Eschylus ; for it is well known that this truly learned prelate, amidst his episcopal duties and theological labours, found leisure to study and improve the text of this great tragedian.* The book before us contains some of these conjectures, as well as some concerning which Dr. Blom- field doubts whether he is to ascribe them to Pearson or to Portus. See Notes on vv. 411 and 503.
The learned editor has been permitted to avail himself of some conjectures, which appear to have been suggested by Portus and Auratus ; and, probably, some readings from MSS. to which they had access. They occupy the margin of a copy of ^Eschylus, be- longing to Mr. Mitford, and liberally communicated to the editor, as we learn from the preface to th(; work before us, as well as from the Cambridge Museum Criticum, (vol. ii. p. 488.)
These conjectural and other readings stamp additional value upon this edition ; for, although the greater part coincide with suggestions, made independently by other scholars, yet in some instances Ihey appear to be wholly new ; and yet of such value, as occasionally to deserve admission into the text. See Notes onvv.32, 122, 12G, 146, 205, 211, 218, (where a conjecture of Auratus is permitted, and we think properly, to supersede the old reading,) 274, 277, 376, 483, &c.
We shall now proceed to mark more particularly some of the characteristic qualities of this edition ; and, in so doing, shall select indifferently from the Notes and Glossary.
Gloss. V. 29. Here is quoted the celebrated passage from Qjld. Col. 1623, where the argument is omitted ; and which, upon that
hibiicrat
Dr. 13utler says of Stanley's materials for a second edition, " Conjecturas ad- crat nonnnllas cum Casauboni, turn Joannis Pearsoni Episcopi Cestricnsis."
Prsef. p. XX. In referring to Dr. Butler's edition of this most difficult author, we cannot help expressing a wish that some of the good fortune, which the last editor has experienced, may be extended to a man so lenrned^ so excellent, and useful, as Dr. Butler of Shrewsbury.
70 Blomfield's Choephorce.
account, most scholars, except Brunck, have agreed in pro- nouncing corrupt. Professor Porson, at Phoen. 5, restores it thus : "06'e7yua ^' i^al(j)vr^<i rivos Qe&f iOwv^" The last editor, how- ever, of the Q^dipus Coloneus, the lamented Dr. Elmsley, thought the conjecture too bold, and that avjov was to be re- tained ; although he acknowledges that he knows of no autho- rity for such a construction, as Owiaaeiv with an accusative. He therefore conjectured, but somewhat timidly, " 0^. ci. Oeou 'eu)v^ev avjov.'" Our editor does not interpose his own judg- ment, but contents himself by marking tii/os with an obelus. We side with Porson.
V. 53. "0o/36<T«t oe Tty." The Note and Glossary seem here at variance. The former says, '' Clytaemnestram innui puto ; terretur autem qusedam." But in the Glossary, tj? is explained " Unusquisque, pro ttw? tj?," and this sense is illustrated, as usual, with great learning. No doubt, such is often the sense of Tt9, as most of the passages quoted by our editor distinctly show. Still it is not the only sense. Tts is used by the trage- dian in allusion to a person, whom the speaker is unwilling to name ; and this we conceive to be the sense, admitted by our editor in his annotation, as belonging to the context. It is also used ^et/crt/cw?, as the critics say, where the speaker al- ludes to himself. Both these significations may be traced in a single passage, Antigone, 750. {Brunck.) Haemon speaks BeiKTiKw^f while the father replies angrily, conceiving that there is a threatening application to himself. See moreover Ajax, 786, 1138. Iph. Taur. 522, 548. (MarkL)
Gloss. 61. The following is satisfactory, from its learning as well as its fairness. " ^lajjpvdjv. ha ut diffiuat, seu dilua- tur, adverbium est ; non adjectivum, quod ait Schneiderus in Lexico, qui fingit vocabulum hiappvhrjei^. Recte autem obser- vavit Schutzius, hsec popular! quadam superstitione intelli- genda, ad nostram usque setatem propagata, quae maculam ex sanguine hominis injuste csesi, in terram effuso, semper ma- nere, nee elui posse fingebat. Noster Theb. 731.
" 'ETTci O' av aVTOKTOUlOS
AvToBa'iKToi Oavwaiy Kaf ')(6ovia Kovt9 ttitj MeXa^Trafye? alfia (fioiviov, T/s uv Ku9apfiov9 Tvopoi; T<s uv (T(ji€ Xovffeiev j
*.' Conf. Sopbocl. CEd. T. 1236. Eurip. El. 320,ar/ia a' e« jrar/jos
Kara tneya^ MeXov aearjTrev."
Gloss. 62. " Ata0ty3w. DiffeTo^ i. e. discerpo. ^tacwapd^a^^.
'm^rm'^^
Blomfield's ChoHphoros. 71
Schol. quam interpretationem pessimam vocat Heathius; pro- bat vero Abreschius."
Abresch's judgment is to be preferred to Heath's ; and the learned editor might have confirmed it by two passages in Ho- race. That ardent admirer and close imitator of Greek forms of speech, has twice used differo in the very sense here affixed to its prototype, om^cpw : —
*• Post, insepulta- membra different lupi." Epod. v. gg. " Fractosque remos differat." ib. x. 6.
In the Glossary on v. 65 and 91, a passage from theEume- nides, 644, Pors. is quoted : —
" avSpoi I' eTreidav aTfi* avaffTrAarj /coVts.**
We are disposed to think that kottU ought to be substituted here for KoVtv, as it has most properly resumed its place in Antig. 602, where the old reading was vepr^pwu afia Kovif. The learned reader will call to mind the *' hauserit ensis" of Virgil, ^n. ii. 600, and '* gladio latus haurit,'' x. 313 ;—
V. 105. " irpGitov /tev av-ri^v, j^w<tt£9 Kt'^iiaQov a^vltt"
Dr. B. has, in our judgment, done well in adopting the AI- dine reading. But we cannot help thinking that av-ii]v here has a peculiar sense, which he has overlooked, and which has been mentioned by some most learned men, as belonging to auT09. " Sunt avTos-, et iKntvos (says Casaubon, in his * Com- mentary on the Characters of Theophrastus,' p. 120,) toces servorum, quas honoris causa propriorum nominum loco usurpant. Aristophanes Ranis,
" \aQi vvv <^paawv * Trpioriena to?? avXijTpi'ffi Tats iviov ooffaii avTOi li? elaep^ofiai,
*' Scholiastes, av7h<i, avil Tov, 6 cea7r6Tt]<!. Sic apud Latinos* Plautus Casina, ubi Stalino, et ancilla colloquuntur. St. Quid tu hie agis ? An. Ego co quo me Ipsa misit. Ipsa, hoc est;, Hera mea. Terentius Hecyra, Sed Pamphilum ipsum video stare ante cedes. Donatus, Ipsum, a quo missus sum : vel domi- num ; ut Grseci, avrov. Idem notat Asconius in quendam Ver- rinarum locum. Erat et discipulorum vox, cum de praeceptore loquerentur : unde illud Avto? t'0a," &c. Now, just as Plautus has used Ipsa in the passage above quoted, we conceive iEschy-
* We quote the words of Casaubon as we find them. The passage is. Ran. 519 Br. and the true reading, Wi vvv, ippdffov.
"Wiiiunfif^!,*;"!'!,'- • ..niwtiniitw^mmnfmrmi^m'm^^^iffiHi^
72 Blomfield'g Cho^phoroe,
Jus used avrTjv^ as equivalent to " mi/ mistress^ See, in fur- ther illustration of this usage, Hemsterhuys on Pollux, iii. 74, n. 53 ; and on Plutus, v. 959.
. 108. " Tiv' ovv 6T aWov Tijhe TrpoaiiOw aiaaei'y^
'S.taai^ is here used as the abstract for the concrete, of which we have so many examples in the dramatic writers. It should have been interpreted, rats we' eaTt^Kviais,.
The following Notes are selected as favourable specimens of Dr. B.'s accuracy as a grammarian, and sagacity as a critic: —
171« " Grammatici docent particulam /twv compositam esse ex firj, et ovv, vel wv: quod si verum sit, quomodo stare simul possunt /^wj' ovv} An legendum, /^iSiv ovk 'Optarov Kpvj3da Swpov if toSc ? Vereor ut hoc sit Orestce donum. /a^ ov ^wpov -if, idem valet ac Iwpov ovk tiv eiTj, Herodot. V. 79. aXXa /laWov firj ov tovto y to ■^prjoTrjptov, veremur potius ut hoc sit oraculi sensus."
186. " Constructio imperfecta est. Schol. rah' alvtaiv •, Xtiwei ovk exi^. Si omnia recte se habent, potest esse aposiopesis qusedam post '0/je'ffTou. Sed forsan legendura e^w ^e ttws — •"
199- " Hanc agnitionis partem Euripides perstrinxit, aStanleio allega- tus, in Electr. 534. 541. Quod Euripides jEschylo vitio veilit, id pul- chcrrimum ct omnino naturae consentaneum esse arbitror. Notum est apud nostrates proverbium, homines in undis perituros vel stipulas ca|j- tare. Quid mirum, si, in re desperata, vel levissimam spei occasionem avide capiaverit Electra, quum jamdudum GrestEB reditum cupide ex- spectasset ? Quinetiam ipsa suspicionum levitas mcntem indicat a recto statu nonnihil dcjectam, et a quovis momcnto in hanc vel illam partem facile impulsam. Accedit, ut recte observavit Botheus, quod tumulus regis desertus crat, iram ^^'.gisthi et Clytaemnestrse timenlibus Argivis, unde non male do Oreste cjusque aliquo sodali cogitat virgo. Porro ipse poeta in iis quae loquitur Orestse persona, v. 219- sq. ostendit se, quara leves fuerint uvar^vwpiaewi rationes, satis intellexisse."
359. " Interprctes connectunt TroXv^warov av' ^^x^^ ru(f)ov — jtiyB' vwo TpuMQi'i, K. r. \. quod vereor ut recte fieri possit, quum potius dicendum esset ovh' vTTo Tp. Si locus est sanus, continuatur votutn, cl '-/ap KarrjvapiffOrj'i — firjS' vvo Tp. Locum rccle intellexit Scholiasla; rjvvaiKiKW^ ovde tovtio apeoKCTai, aWa fitjhe ryv tipxijv avrjpfjaOai, 1, e. Electra vero, \elut f'emina, ne hoc quidcm Orestis votum probat, scilicet -ut pater olim ante Trojam succubuisset ; sod potius hoc sibi placiturum fuissc dicit, si pater omnino intactus evasisset, interfectores autem prius interissent; ut fatum, quod mortem iis intulerit, e longinquo aliquis, harum calamitatum expcrs, audivisset."
■ 555. " Quum napvdatof dixerint Attici de monte Phocico, Tlapv^aios vero dc Parnetlie, monte Attico, sic etiam HapvaaU eos dixisse puto potius quam Uapvrjaii, quum sernio esset dc Parnaso. Vid. Elms, ad
Blomfield's Cho^phorce. *It^
Aristopb. Ach. 348. Ruhnken. ad Timaei Lex. p. Q.O^.—Tlapvtjaov raale editur in Euajen. 11. pro llapvaaov. IJbi quae Burgessius allegat exera- pla, Tevfiif COO'S, MvKoKrjffco^, nihil proficiunt ; quippe ' antiquior pronuntiatio videatur Tev/M7fao9 istius tcmporis, quo nondum lilerae gcniinabaiilur.' Valckenaer. ad Phcen. 1107. * Vetusti Graeci,' inquit Hemsterhusius ad Lucian. Cont. p. 503, ' literas geminare vix unquam solebant.' Eustath. ad Od. T. p. 1872, 50. o ce llapurjadi, ou ?) Kotut) XPytfi^ ^la TOW a Xc'-yet, Tlappaaoi', 7ro\v9 tV rac9 laiopiafs, (pyXaaauu fi^XP'' *-'"' *'^^ wapa ^oiw7o7i VTrofiapfiapov to ap\atQu ovofia. Tepveaov r^ap avTov TTapaXaKovfTev (f)aaiv oi cy^wpioi. ij te Sta twv Ivo aa '"{paf^n 70V TIapvrffffTov, Karyjp^fTjrai irapa to?? vtrrepou. Contra vei'O Scripturain per duo nc recentiorum fuisse censct Hcyiiius ad Pindar. Pytli. i. 75. Ylapi^fjao^ scribit Photius, Ilapvaaos Hesychius, et Proclus in Platonis Tim. p. 31. Parnasus codices scripti velustiores Virgilii, Propertii, Ovidii, aliorum. Hapuaaiov Tlieocrit. vii. 148. Exempla quae protulit Eustathius, ]). 890,3. parum ponderis habent; quum 'AXucapvijao^ per unum ff scribendum esse certissimuin sit. Quare dissentio ab liermanno ct Erfurdtio ad Sophocl. Antig. 1130. scripturam per aa tuentibus."
233, 4. " cftoi' TTpoaavhav ^' citt* ai/ayKOiiD^ CX*"' iraiiipa re, Kal to fiy]Tpo<}. k. X."
The Note here does not give a completely full account of the state of the reading. In fact it gives more credit to Schutz, than really falls to his share ; and it does not explain from what source the present text was deriveti. The note is simply thus; " 7raT('/)ov Turn. Steph. Stanl. Trarcpa oc Schutz/' The truth however is, that Schutz, in his first edition, retains the corrupt old text ; namely, irmcpos, with a colon at ^x"^', and from Dr. Butler we learn, that -irmtpa, without the colon, was the lection of " Med. Guelph. Aid. Rob." Dr. Blomtield's text corresponds with that of Porson, from which we conjecture that Schutz, in h\^ second edition, adopted it, with the altera- tion of <TQ for TG.
28.5 — 9. It is well known that Professor Porson attempted the restoration of this perplexed passage by means of a trans- position, which we were at one time disposed to think as correct, as it is ingenious. See his Tracts, &c. by Kidd, p. 211. We were therefore at first startled not to see the conjecture taken into the present text. But, upon full consideration, we think that Dr. B, has exercised a sound judgment in adopting the suggestions of Hermann and Elmsley. The reading then * exhibits an important and perhaps indisputable instance of" the real words of the author, preserved amidst every appear- ance of corruption, merely by altering the punctuation and inserting a particle.
" fiw/xwv r UTTetp'^ciu ov^ opwfulurjv Trarpov , fujvtv. h^x'^aQai. f/, ovie avWuciv Tij/a"
T4 Blomfield's CkoSphorcsi*
In the Note on V. 313, we perceive the usage of forte for fortasse, which is certainly Incorrect, although sanctioned by the practice of so many modern writers of Latin. The learned editor, we are confident, will avoid it in future. Now we are on the subject of mistakes, to which all who write, as well as all who do not write, are liable, we conceive that sunt, not. on V. 485, should be sint. Perhaps, however, it is a typographi- cal error, of which there appears to us an unusual number in this play, owing no doubt to the distance at which Dr. B. was residing from the press, and his important professional en- gagements. Thus we have penatuce, p. 37, for penacute, quinta for sexta, p. 73, de qucestionis dubitet, p. 74, 'aWa for a\\«, p. 162. We have, however, far more delight in contem- plating great excellencies than in dwelling upon petty defects, . although the duty we have imposed upon ourselves obviously requires us to notice these also. We therefore recur with pleasure to the improvements which have been made in the text, partly by the acuteness of the editor, partly by the can- dour and judgment with which he has listened to the sugges- tions of others. Among various other instances, ^/)//iJ'v uipa^, adopted from Salvini, v. 386, d-n-piKioTrXifKra from Scaliger, 419, TrpoxaXKevei from Jacobs and Hermann, 636, gi'/3o\w?, 684, from Porson (with the phrase happily illustrated in the Glossary,) Bia 8iKa9, 775, from Pauw and others, ^la irihov, 785, his own conjecture for BaTredov, r^or/iwv, or r^oaiwv from ryoan)?,* ploratoTy the transposition or conjecture at 1027, 8, with the aposiope- sis, at 1030, from Schutz and Butler ; are so many proofs of the impartiality, as well as skill, with which the arduous duties of editor have been discharged.
In the phrase "eV-oi/r' "Apciov Koinfioi'" v. 417, there is an am- biguity which our English idiom retains. We say with equal propriety, ''struck up a mournful strain ;" and, ^'struck a heavy blow."
At the close of v. 455, an iambus evidently is wanting : " diKa^ satis apte reponit Hermannus," says our editor. We
would suggest a/Jas.
763. " aX.X' ec TpoTTuiav Zeis KaKwv OijaeL ttotc."
" t ehpoiraiav Porson. qui ad Eurip. Suppl. 647. sic scribit ; '• In jEschyli loco tpoiralav edd. male praeferunt ; quod ambigas utrum in Tpoiraiov, an Tpoiraia, mutandum sit." Scd retinendum puto Tpovalav,
* This is formed by strict analogy from yodoi, as j6os is from 7<{w, an old form used by Homer. II. Z. 500.
1RI
I
Blomfield's Cho&phormA 75
conversionem. Schol. tieruTpoTijif, ut in Agam. 213, (f>pevo^ rvewv Bvffacfitj rpoTraiaVy Tlieb. 703- ^rjfiaTo^ ev Tpovata. SC. avpa. Quod si una ex Porsoni conjecturis recipieada sit, malira rpoiraia, Eurip. Oy* 713. ^JTJcai ipoiraia jwv kukwu."
This is good so far as it goes. But we would substitute ffri^nci for Ojaei, on the very ground of the passage cited from the Orestes.
We are not quite satisfied with the explanation of the word ^vvwpU in the Gloss, on v. 969 : —
*' iSivviopi^. Jugum. Hcsych. SvtxvpiBa : ^v^pju. i-n-l iwu rj^iawu, optv9 i^ap u yfii'ovoi. Absuide ; (|uum sit a ^vvan'pwy quod vere inonuil Eustathius, p. 573, 36. Saepius vero usurpatur de ipsa biga, vel de cquis bijugibus, quam de jugo: Agam. 626". Valckenaer. ad Eurip. Ph(?en. 331."
This also is very true ; but it does not enable the tirot or indeed any reader, to discover the exact sense, which Dr. B, would assign to ^wwph in the passage in question. It must either mean *' fetters fastening the feet together, as a yoke connects the two mules in a car ;" or it may even signify, '* a pair for the feet."
But let us attend to the sage observation of Homer :— »
*' wpij fiev TToKewv fxvOtov, u'pij Be xal vttvov."*
We will not dwell at any greater length upon this small, but valuable, volume. We have shown, we trust sufliciently, the claims it possesses to the thanks of the literary public; while we have without scruple pointed out any difference of opinion that has arisen, in the course of our observations, between ourselves and Dr. Blomfield ; as difference of opinion there rmcst be among all who carefully examine a very extensive subject.
We must not, however, conclude without expressing our hope, that this very learned prelate may yet find leisure, as well as inclination, to complete that which he has more than begun well ; and that, when he feels himself in some degree relieved from the occupation, incident to his change of situa- tion and the accession of so much new business, he may, amidst the graver and more important claims of theology, bestow some portion of his time upon literature, which, although styled profane, is nevertheless essential to the critical
♦ Od. A. 3/8.
w Tales of the Crusader^.
and accurate knowledge of holy writ. Thus will he follow the example of his illustrious predecessor, Bishop Pearson, as well as that of Archbishop Potter ; each of whom occasion- ally refreshed himself from diocesan duties and theological inquiries, by restoring the expressions and illustrating the sentiments of heathen poets.
Art. V .-—Tales of the Crusaders. By the Author of*' Waver- ley," &c., 4 vols. 12mo. Edinburgh.
To do justice to the works which continue to swell the Waverley series to the size of a moderate encyclopsBdia of human life and manners, is in general only to vary the language of panegyric ; a task fatiguing to the patience of those who dislike the imputed politics of the author, and whose gentle readers require the stimulus of a snarl as an anti-soporific. As, however, for our own parts we are inclined to prefer truth to novelty, and not in the habit of catering for the splenetic, we shall take the liberty of ranking the tales before us on the footing of our old favourites, Ivanhoe and Quentin Durward. With the exception of Goethe, whose vivid and original portrait of Goetz von Berlichingen we suspect him to have studied minutely, our nameless author is perhaps the only modern writer who has departed from the established Amadis model, and given us the stout old barons and champions of the dark ages " in living lith and limb," and with the body and savour of reality, instead of such elegant carpet-knights as might be shadowed out by the pencil of Westall, or Angelica Kauffman. Instead of the set and courtly phrase of tilt and banquet, he puts into their mouths the business-like language of real working-day life, reflecting faithfully the joys and sorrows, the mirth and moodiness, the piques and prejudices which flesh is heir to ; and tinctured with just sufficient of knightly roughness to give an easy and natural eflfect to the noble sentiments which it so often ex- presses. Confident that they bear the true stamp of gentle blood, he does not fear to strip his favourite characters of the mere gaudy trappings of chivalry, to subject them to the vulgar wants of ordinary life, or even upon occasion to com- mit the unheard-of solecism of making them thick-set and bandy-legged. In short, to use his own words, his knights
Tales of the Crusaders. 77
'* wear their linked hauberks with as much ease as if the meshes had been formed of cobwebs."
We certainly concur with the sentiments of the author himself, as hinted in his preface, in giving the preference to the Talisman upon the whole. It is true that the interest of the Betrothed commences at an earlier period of the story, and is kept up to the last by a succession of noble and touch- ing incidents. That, however, of the Talisman is more intense and uninterrupted when it once begins, and its crisis more startling, nor do we recur to the Betrothed with the same lively zest, to discover fresh beauties of plot and character. Although too every means be taken to render the final event of the Betrothed uncertain to the last, yet we can foresee pretty well the general train of occurrences by which either the happiness or misery of the lovers is to be brought about : while in the Talisman our curiosity is kept more perplexingly on the alert. We are besides disappointed to find the Crusade itself treated as an object merely secondary, in a tale which we had expected to find replete with that never-wearying theme, and its accom- paniments of battles, shipwrecks, witchcraft, " antres vast and deserts idle, " Paynims and Paladins of all tribes and nations, perchance even Huns and Troglodytes; in short, to have our imaginations launched into the boundless field of the east, under the auspices of our modern Ariosto : and we turn there- fore to the second tale with more pleasure, as fulfilling more exactly the pledge implied in the title of the work.
Of these causes of inferiority as affecting the Betrothed, the author is obviously aware, and has therefore neglected no means of awakening and refreshing that interest which depends upon suspense. Hence the evil omens and prognostics which are studiously multiplied from the first, as in the Bride of Lammermoor; the accidental stain of Damian's blood, the curse of Ermengarde, and the episode of Randal and Cad- wallon, who seem introduced chiefly to create an alarm and interest in behalf of the Constable, just when the reader is puzzled how to dispose of his claims. A ghost also is brought in to threaten and predict, if indeed the apparition of Vanda is intended for any thing but a nightmare, occasioned by for- mer impressions and the recent repletion of the Baldingham supper. (Damian, we are assured by the Wardour MSS., always spoke of it as the gorge in the Saxon wolf brach'a kennel.) Nor is the destiny of the parties finally settled till the prison scene, which, full of interest as it is, we think somewhat too long, and far inferior in original conception to the ordeal which Sir Kenneth encounters in vol. iv. p. 257.
78 Tales of the Cimsaders,
The character of " grim old Hugh " is one of those which improve on acquaintance, and which the author is conscious of describing well ; rough and austere, like strong bodied wine, but possessing spirit, flavour, and generous qualities, which are developed by the mellowing test of time : —
" Hugo de Lacy paced a short turn before the stone monument, en- deavouring to conquer the deep emotion which he felt. * I forgive her,' he said. ' Forgive, did I say ? — Alas ! I have nothing to forgive. She used but the right I left in her hand — yes — our date of engagement was out — she had heard of my losses — ni}' defeats — the destruction of my hopes — the expenditure of my wealth ; and has taken the first opportu- nity which strict law aflForded, to break off her engagement with one bankrupt in fortune and fame. Many a maiden would have done, — perhaps in prudence should have done, — this ; — but that woman's name should not have been Eveline Berenger,'
- " He leaned on his esquire's arm, and for an instant laid his head on his shoulder with a depth of emotion which Guarine had never before seen him betray, and which, in awkward kindness, he could only attempt to console by bidding his master ' be of good courage — he had lost but a woman.'
" ' This is no selfish emotion, Philip,' said the Constable, resuming self-command. * I grieve less that she has left me, than that she has misjudged me — that she has treated me as the pawnbroker does his wretched creditor, who arrests the pledge as the very moment elapses within which it might have been relieved. Did she then think that I in my turn would have been a creditor so rigid ? — that I, who, since I knew her, scarce deemed myself worthy of her when I had wealth and fame, should insist on her sharing my diminished and degraded fortunes.'' How little she ever knew me, or how selfish must she have supposed my mis- fortunes to have made me ! But be it so — she is gone, and may she be happy. The thought that she disturbed me shall pass from my mind ; and I will think she has done that which I myself, as her best friend, must in honour have advised.'
'* So saying, his countenance, to the surprise of his attendants, re- sumed its usual firm composure." — p. 259-60.
" The minstrel was so much astonished at this change of deportment, from the sensitive acuteness of agony which attended the beginning of his narrative, that he stepped back two paces, and gazing on the Constable with wonder, mixed with admiration, exclaimed, * We have heard of martyrs in Palestine, but this exceeds them.'
" ' Wonder not so much, good friend,' said the Constable, patiently ; ' it is the first blow of the lance or mace which pierces or stuns — those which follow are little felt.'
" ' Think, my lord,' said Vidal, ' all is lost — love, dominion, high ofhce, and bright fame— so late a chief among nobles — now a poor palmer.'
Tales of the Crusaders. 79
" ' Wouldst thou make sport with my misery ?' said Hugo, sternly ; ' but even that comes of course behind my back, and why should it not be endured when said to my face ? Know, then, minstrel, and put it in song, if you list, that Hugo de Lacy, having lost all he carried to Palestine, and all which he left at home, is still lord of his own mind ; and adversity can no more shake him, than the breeae which strips the oak of its leaves can tear up the trunk by the roots." *
To use the words of his favourite Wilkin Flammock, he is *' of a generation that will not shrink in the washing/'
Honest Flammock himself, on the contrary, may be com- pared to his native schwartz-bier, excellent for every ordinary use, and possessing in his own gross and muddy fashion, the genial good qualities of more refined liquor. His probity is invincible, his affections kindly, his homespun acuteness more than a match for finer intellects, and his courage and presence of mind as ready at any hour of the day or night as that of the *' brave Crillon :" but all after a manner of his own, and totally abstracted from those notions of honour and delicacy, for which he entertains a sovereign contempt. Even his benevolence, which is genuine, is qualified by the following downright Dutch sorites, which would be worth its weight in gold in the eyes of Malthus: —
" Foreign expeditions and profligate habits have made many poor; and he that is poor will murder his father for money. I hate poor people; and I would the devil had every man who cannot keep himself by the work of his own hand !"
The lovers are tolerably well rescued from the influence of that dulness which is usually attendant on the predicament of love ; indeed we could even have borne a little more of it towards the conclusion, where it would not have been mis- placed. Too much, however, cannot be said of the pure and lofty principles on which they were made to act, and which it is this writer's delight to exemplify, both in his romantic and more familiar works. It is hardly possible, indeed, to draw other than a favourable augury from the first appearance of Damian upon the scene, which after all the elaborate de- scriptions we have read of the persons of heroes, has nothing trite in it:; —
" They found him just alighted from the raven-coloured horse, which was slightly flecked with blood as well as foam, and still panted with the exertions of the evening ; though, answering to the caressing hand of ,his youthful rider, he arched his neck, shook his steel caparison, and snorted to announce his unabated mettle and unwearied love of combat. Tbe young man's eagle look bore the same token of unabated vigour^
s«
8flR Tales of the Crusaders^
mingled with the signs of recent exertion. His helmet hanging at his saddle-bow, showed a gallant countenance, coloured highly, but not inflamed, which looiicd out from a rich profusion of short chestnut curls ; and although his armour was of a massive and simple form, he moved under it with such elasticity and ease, that it seemed a graceful attire, not a burthen or incumbrance. A furred mantle had not sat on him with more easy grace than the heavy hauberk which complied with every gesture of his noble form. Yet his countenance was so juvenile, that only the down on the upper lip announced decisively the approach to manhood. The females, who thronged into the court to see the first envoy of their deliverers, could not forbear mixing praises of his beauty with blessings on his valour ; and one comely middle-aged dame, in particular, distinguished by the tightness with which her scarlet hose sat on a well-shaped leg and ancle, and by the cleanness of her coif, pressed close up to the young squire, and, more forward than the rest, doubled the crimson hue of his cheek, by crying aloud, that Our Lady of the Garde Doloureuse had sent them news of their redemption by an angel from the sanctuary ; — a speech which, although Father Aldrovand shook his head, was received by her companions with such general acclama- tion, as greatly embarrassed the young man's modesty."
Of Eveline more hereafter. From her natural and spirited little handmaid Rose, less is required, and fewer traits there- fore serve to compose the character. In our eyes she is a delightful personage; but whether the gentle Amelot main- tained in subsequent life the needful authority over a wife somewhat his senior, whose propensity to govern had per- plexed his liege lady at so early a period, (i. 224.) the Wardour MSS. saith not.
We must confess to the same dislike of buxom dame Gillian the tire-woman, which poor Rose betrays ; indeed the former abuses rather too broadly the privilege of tongue granted to the wife of Bath, and ladies of her school ; but as it appears that Eveline finally restored her to favour for the sake of honest Raoul her spouse, (who with Mahound his horse, somewhat resembles crusty Christy and Pepper in Bracebridge Hall,) it is not for us to impeach the fair Cas- tellane's choice. The warm-hearted Father Aldrovand is worthy of a far kinder feeling, though in truth the education which has taught him to use the " trebuchet and quarrel" with such dexterity, has rendered him somewhat of a better- conditioned Friar Tuck.
AVe hardly know whether to like or not the episode of the disguised Cadwallon, which can only be called for by reasons already alluded to. The death of Gvvenwyn certainly needed, no revenge. Like the white dragon his symbol, and all other
Tales of the Crusaders. 8f
dragons, white, red, and green, down to the dragon of Wantley, his business was to be slain in due course, and duly slain he is, in a manner highly creditable to the strength of the Con- stable's arm and lance. The night-march which precedes this event, is in the following passage strikingly brought home to the ear and imagination of the reader : —
" At length Rose suddenly felt her young mistress shiver in her em- brace, and that Eveline's hand grasped her own arm rigidly as she whis- pered, ' Do you hear nothing ?'
« * No — nothing but the hooting of the owl,' answered Rose time* rously.
" ' I heard a distant sound,' said Eveline, — ' I thought I heard it- hark, it comes again— Look from the battlements, Rose, while I awaken the priest and thy father.'
" ' Dearest lady,' said Rose, ' I dare not — What can this sound be that is heard by one only ? — You arc deceived by the rush of the river.'
" ' I would not alarm the castle unnecessarily,' said Eveline, pausing, * or even break your father's needful slumbers, by a fancy of mine — But hark — hark ! — 1 hear it again — distinct amidst the intermitting sound of the rushing water — a low tremulous sound, mingled with a tinkling like smiths or armourers at work upon their anvils.'
" Rose had by this time sprung up on the banquette, and flinging back her rich tresses of fair hair, had applied her hand behind her ear to col- lect the distant sound. ' I hear it,' she cried, ' and it increases — Awake them, for Heaven's sake, and without a moment's delay !'
" Eveline accordingly stirred the sleepers with the reversed end of the lance, and as ihoy started to their feet in haste, she whispered, in a hasty but cautious voice, ' To arms — the Welch are upon us 1'
" ' What — where ?' said Wilkin Flammock, — ' where be they ?'
" * Listen and you will hear them arming,' she rephed.
" ' The noise is but in thine own fancy, lady,' said the Fleming, whose organs were of the same heavy character with his form and his disposition. ' I would I had not gone to sleep at all, since I was to be awakened so soon.'
*' * Nay, but listen, good Flammock — the sound of armour comes from the north-east.'
*' ♦ The Welch lie not in that quarter, lady,' said Wilkin, * and, besides, they wear no armour.'
" ' I hear it, I hear it !' said Father Aldrovand, who had been listen- ing for some lime. ' All praise to St. Benedict ! Our Lady of the Garde Doloureuse has been gracious to her servants as ever! It is the tramp of horse ; it is the clash of armour ; the chivalry of the Marches are coming to our relief. .Kyric Eleison !'
" ' I hear something too,' said Flammock, ' something like the hollow sound of the great sea, when it burst into my neighbour Klinkerman's warehouse, and rolled his pots and pans against each other. But it were
VOL. I, G
IB Tales of the Crmadei'S.
9Xi evil mistake, father, to take foes for friends ; we were best rouse the
people.* II- i*.
" 'Tush!' said the priest, ' talk to rae of pots and kettles? Was I squire of the body to Count Stephen Mauleverer for twenty years, and do I not know the tramp of a war-horse, or the clash of a mail-coat ? But call the men to the walls at any rate, and have me the best drawn up in the base-court ; we may help them by a sally.' "
This is fully equal in its way to any thing which is to be found in the Talisman. To the latter tale, however, every one must give the preference, as more skilfully adjusted in point of plot, and abounding more in character, action, and electrifying stage effect. It derives an additional interest also from names familiar to our early associations, but existing in a sort of dim and shadowy outline whose details we can trust the author's black-letter lore to fill up faithfully. The con- quests of Saladin, and the military renown which he acquired at so early an age, are the least extraordinary features in a character which did honour to the faith he professed, and deserved a better. His chivalrous sense of honour, and the solemn acts of self humiliation and universal benevolence with which he closed his life, have supplied a fine historical foundation for a character such as is here described, and which we the more admire from its perfect keeping as a Turkish portrait. The Malek Adhel of Madame Cottin, which has delighted us all in our younger days, is certainly a great improvement on Rowe's Bajazet, and other Turks of the old regulation standard ; save only that he is no Turk at all, but a preux chevalier, masquing with a turban and scimitar. In Saladin, on the contrary, the peculiarities arising from Creed and education are strongly marked, and constantly preseik when not broken through by the vigour and frankness of his natural character. His allusions to his own dignity are words of course, his secret contempt for the mere distinctions of rank, (vol. iv. pp. 6-353,) perfectly sincere ; and he appears to enjoy the opportunity of playing the bon compagnon with a manly antagonist, which his incognito affords him, without departing from the Eastern reserve which is thus acutely con- trasted with the mariners of Kenneth : —
** The manners of the Eastern warrior were grave, graceful, and de- corous ; indicating, however, in some particulars, the habitual restraint which men of warm and choleric tempers often set as a guard upon their native impetuosity of disposition, and at the same time a sense of his own dignity, which seemed to impose a certain formality of behaviour in him who entertained it.
Tales of the Crusaders, 83
" This haughty feeling of superiority was perhaps equally entertained by his new European acquaintance, but the effect was different ; and the same feeling, which dictated to the Christian knight a bold, blunt, and somewhat careless bearing, as one too conscious of his own importance to be anxious about the opinions of others, appeared to prescribe to the Saracen a style of courtesy more studiously and formally observant of ceremony. Both were courteous ; but the courtesy of the Christian seemed to flow rather from a good-humoured sense of what was due to others ; that of the Moslem^ from a high feeling ojf what was to be expected from himself." : ^ ! < ii
His restraint and decorum in the presence of the rc^al ladies, appear to arise from motives somewhat analogous, and equally in character ; and perhaps the scanty respect with which he treats their moral and intellectual natures will be somewhat atoned f or. ijji, Jfaix eyes, by the fervour of the follow- ing expressions : — '/oii if V
" * If the sight I sawjn the tent of King Richard escaped thine ob- servation, I will account it duller than the edge of a buffoon's wooden falchion. True, thou wert under sentence of death at the time; but, in my case, had my head been dropping from the trunk, the last strained
fjlances of my eyeballs had distinguished wnth delight such a vision of ovcliness, and the head would have rolled itself towards the incompara- ble houris, to kiss with its quivering lips the hem of their vestments. Yonder royalty of England, who for her superior loveliness deserves to be Queen oi the universe ; what tenderness in her blue eye ; what lustre in her tresses of dishevelled gold ! By the tomb of the prophet, I scarce think that the houri who shall present to me the diamond-cup of im« mortality, will deserve so warm a caress I' "
It may be noticed too that the Eastern fire of Saladin only breaks out on just occasions, (pp. 78-188, vol. iv.) and that in every other instance his self command, though sharply tried during his disguise, is exerted in a manner which gives rise to much of powerful description.
In the portrait of Coeur de Lion, which is made to corres- pond exactly with that given in Ivanhoe, we recognise, with pleasure, a character more familiar with our recollections and partialities than his real merits warrant- The mere " lion- hearted and bull-necked" qualities of this monarch would hardly have redeemed his character as a son, excepting as combined with the romantic' history of his captivity, the mag- nanimity of his death bed, and those frank and soldier-like traits, which compose the character of a popular leader in Marmion :— »
« 2
.r^^lfl Tales of the Crusaders.
'/m.'K'^t^HV^' " They love a captain to obey,
\y^i:'f^'. Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May ;
' ■ With open hand, and brow as free,
. Lover of wine, and minstrelsy:
Ever the first to scale a tower, 3 As venturous in a lady's bower:
.lYcfj ! -> .:^'-:^f-^ ^uch buxom chief shall lead his host «^^£tnf 'ivM\\ iii jif ^P"^ India's fires to Zerabla's frost." ; '' The above sketch is enlarged and heightened in the present ^ tale into a portraiture of a restless, fiery being, " wholly com- * pounded of humours ;" proud as a monarch, prouder as a ■ Norman knight and guild-brother of the joyous science ; equally open-hearted in his anger, his vanity, and his sar- 'casms; headstrong enough "not to serve God if the devil bade him ;" as prompt to forgive and make reparation as to offend; and "winning the love of his faithful mastiffs by being ready to brawl, wrestle, or revel among the forerpost of them, whenever the humour seized him.'*,^' '\^'^ \"
De Vaux, (or De Mutton, for we likfe 'te^"W=ettel^;1ty'a "Saxon,) is still a rougher diamond than Hugh de Lacy, but of an equally fine water ; and pleases us the more from the ' totally unconscious manner in which, like Moliere's bourgeois speaking prose, he does the very thing of which he despairs. *' It is useless to expect manners from a mule," quoth stout ^'Tom of the Gills, while, at the same time, the rough instinct of a noble nature supplies the want of polish in more genuine essentials. Hence, while he puts no restraint on his bluff independent humour in the presence of Saladin, and treats 'King, Kaisar, and Grand Master with equal surliness of de- ^"ijortment, he racks his dull brains for somewhat consolatory *"to the pride of the supposed poor knight, (p. 170, vol. iii.) -fand concludes his sweeping gibe against his royal master, and iill other minstrels, with a special exception of the humble Blondel, " as a born gentleman of high acquirements." His ' faithful and fearless attendance on the unruly patient gives occasion to some of the most touching scenes in the tale ; and his kindly nature breaks out very characteristically v^rhile soliciting the confidence of the condemned knight : —
" He came hastily back to the bundle of reeds on which the captive lay, took one of his fettered hands, and said, with as much softness as Jiis rough voice was capable of expressing, ' Sir Kenneth, thou art yet young; thou hast a father. My Ralph, whom I left training his liule galloway-nag on the banks of the Irthing, may one day be thy years; and, but for last night, would to God I saw his youth bear such promise as thine. Can nothing be said or done in thy behalf f'^jy/ .oov tao-O
Td^S'vf the Crusaders, 85
''* Nothing,' was the melancholy answer-' *I ha^e deserted my charge; the banner intrusted to me is lost. When the headsman and block are prepared, the head and trunk are ready/
" ' Nay, then, God have mercy 1' said De Vaux J * yet would I rather than my best horse I had taken that watch myself. There is mystery in it, young man, as a plain man may descry, though he cannot see through it. Cowardice ? pshaw ! No coward ever fought as I have seen thee do. Treachery, I cannot think traitors die in their treason so calmly. Thou hast been trained from thy post by some deep guile ; some well-devised stratagem : the cry of soiue <libtressed maiden has caught thine car, or the laughful look of some merry one has taken thine eyes. Never blush for it, we have all been led aside by sgch ffcar. Come, I pray thee, make a clean conscience of it to me, instead of the priest. Richard is naercifiU when his mood is abated. Hast thou nothing to intrust to m6.>V"' ''"' ' "i;"f>'f' ::
" The unfortunate knigW'i^irtl^M Wc^'ftliftiVlhe kind warrior, and answered— « Nolhinfr ' «" lo 07ol ^mU y.in^siWfr '. hiiy , .
' In the character of Kenneth, his self-imposed military obedience is well contrasted witl> the high spirit of a prince; ^and both set ofTby the tinge, of s^irewd Sqots canniness, which .^^ required to preserve his incoijnito successfully. He some- ,\yhat reminds us of Harry Bertram, in the fearless frankness, and backwardness to take offence slightly> which commpnly attends on the consciousness of niental and bodily strength. His liege lady Edith we prefer to Eveline on the whole, not because her positive merits as a heroine are greater, but because they are brought more familiarly under our notice. We chiefly behold Eveline as at a distance, doing her devoir after the example of other heroines of beleaguered castles, and fair ghost-seers ; while in Edith, though she says and does less, we behold the gratitude and tenderness of the woman overcoming the pride of tiie Plantagenet, and bearing up against the domestic war of taUnts and menaces which assails her ; while, as in the following animated scene, the energy of a strong mind breaks through the little decorums imposed by rank and station : —
' ■•M Hasten to your post, valiant knight ; you are deceived in being trained hither — ask no questions.' , • .•:! •; , ;
" * I need ask none,' said the knight, sinking upon one knee, , with the reverential devotion of a saint at the altar, and bending his eyes on the ■ground, lest his looks should increase the lady's embarrassment. "■ *' * Have you. heard all ?' said Edith, impatiently. ' Gracious saints, then wherefore wait you here, when each minute that passes is loaded 'With dishonour.'
** • I have heard that I am .dishonoured, lady, and I have heard it from you. What reck I how soon punishment followi ? f have buf op*
86 ^Mshf the Crusa^e^,
petition to you, and then I seek, among the sabres of the infidels, whether dishonour may not be washed out with blood.* '*
" ' Do not so, neither,' said the lady. ' Be wise ; dally not here; all may yet be well, if you will but use despatch.'
*' ' I wait but for your forgiveness,' said the knight, still kneeling, * for my presumption in believing my poor services could have been required or valued by you.'
** ' I do forgive you — O, I have nothing to forgive— I have been the means of injuring you — But O, begone — 1 will forgive — I will value you — that is, as I value every brave crusader — if you will but begone.'
" ' Receive, first, this precious yet fatal pledge,' said the knight, ten- dering the ring to Edith, who now showed gestures of impatience.
•' ' Oh no, no,' she said, declining to receive it. "' Keep it — keep it as a mark of my regard — my regret, I would say. O begone, if not for your own sake, for mme. ,, i
" Almost recompensed for the loSff dieri '6^ honour, which her voice had denounced to him, by the interest which she seemed to testify in lis safety, Sir Kenneth rose from his knee, and, casting a momentary glance on Edith, bowed low and seemed about to withdraw. At the same instant, that maidenly bashfulness, which the energy of Edith's feelings had till then triumphed over, became conqueror in its turn, and she hastened from the apartment, extinguishing her lamp as she went, and leaving, in Sir Kenneth's thoughts, both mental and natural gloom behind her.' " Hnorfq •
Much as we approve of the Homeric diver^ty of character with which the back ground is filled up by princes and war- riors, their attendants abuse rather too far their privilege of dull foolery ; excepting indeed, which is very probable, the wits of Jonas and the spruch-sprecher are purposely blunted down to the Austrian court-standard. — Nor can we see much necessity for such coups de theatre as the assassination of Conrad, (who is taken out of the hands of the Old Man of the Mountain,) or the prompt decapitation of the Templar. After this latter circumstance, it is less perhaps to be won- dered at that Richard grew riotous at the smell of blood, and so modestly proposed to his munificent host the friendly amusement of having his brains knocked out.
The romance of Thomas a'Kent is somewhat improved frortf the old fabliau of " TheThree Knights and the Smock," though the whole is not worth one magic line of «• County Gay." In most respects, however, we are pleased to find that the chii valrous vein of Quentin Durward is fresh and unexhausted * and inclined to hope, that leaving the Lady Penelopes and Sir Bingos to the inferior pens of the mob of «' young men about town," the author of Waverley will continue to ex- ercise on the chiefs and heroes of old, the fabled power of
Salt on Hieroglyphics* 87
the eastern derviae, who could throw his spirit into dead bones, and speak from their mouths the language which they, uttered when living.
Art. VI. — An Essay on Dr, Young's and M. ChampoUion^s Phonetic System of Hieroglyphics, with some Additional Dis- coveries, by which it may be applied to decipher the l^ames of the Ancient Kings of Egypt, By Henry Salt, Esq. F.R.S, Longman and Co. 1825.
Although many important discoveries have been effected by means of the system of phonetic hieroglyphics, we fear that much remains to the developement of the whole plan, and that many symbols, like the cuneiform characters of the Gabr and Chaldee, will defy the utmost ingenuity, and most acute researches of inquirers into these monuments of antiquity. HorapoUo, indeed, led the way; yet, we cannot wholly rely upon his declarations; for his writings merely exhibit the original idea communicated by the symbols, without any re- ference to their phonetic powers. If, from his works, we pass to those of Kircher, a labyrinth of fanciful theories and strain- ed etymologies is presented to us, to which neither history nor philology extends any clue ; and even after an examination of Jablonski and more accurate authors, notwithstanding their acknowledged illustrations of obscure facts, we shall be forced to conclude, that the hieroglyphics are covered with a veil, like that of Isis, which no mortal, in these latter times, has been able, entirely to raise.
But, since our acquaintance with the Rosetta stone, a new light has been darted upon this perplexed subject ; and the researches of Young and Champollion have holden the torch to future explorers of ^Egyptian antiquities. They have ad- vanced beyond the disclosures of HorapoUo and Jamblichus, and shown, by indisputable documents, that these mystical envelopements of ancient wisdom are also phonetic ; from whence we ascertain the curious fact, that there were hiero- glyphics which were phonetic, and hieroglyphics, properly so called, which expressed the names and offices of deities toith- out any alphabetical arrangement ; and these (although they may have been distinct at first,) were interblended in the in- scriptions of the Hierophants ; but which description of them was originally adopted on the stones and pillars of the earlier
{"88 Salt on Hieroglyphks,
ages, we can never with accuracy find out. The inscrip- tions on the Babylonian bricks and the Ciiehel Minar, which essentially differ from each other, prove, that the secret cha^ ' racters in which the sacred legends and deeds of heroes were veiled were alphabetical ; and possibly, we shall not err in comparing them to the phonetic hieroglyphics; for we not only discern figures of Gods, and representations of illustrious men, but alphabetical characters; whether cuneiform, as in «* Babylon and Persia; or Sassanian, as in the latter alone, describing their history and adventures. The Chinese charac- ters, also, attest a similar practice, although they be different in their application : here, an immense combination of pri- mitives appears, emblematical, not of words but of ideas, and intelligible by men of various languages, to whom the secret of deciphering them is known ; and if to these we add the picture-writing of the American Indians, we shall perceive a isomewhat similar system of unlimited extension prevailing in different countries ; and, in each, adapted to national pecu- liarity.
Few things, therefore, are more desirable, than an accu- rate knowledge of the Egyptian hieroglyphics and enchorial characters ; from them the history and antiquities of the place may be elucidated, the language may be restored to a great extent, and some insight may be afforded into the sacred tongue. From thence may be decided the great question, whether any analogy subsisted between the lepa SiaXeKro^ of iEgypt, Babylon, India, and Persia ; since, from the similar roots existing between these on the one hand, and the Coptic ^jftndSahidic on the other, the extraordinary dissimilarity of I) grammar, in the latter, prevents us from arguing to a certain 1( conclusion ; but, if such a tongue existed, as we have every -reason to believe, and if traces of one not entirely reducible to Coptic grammar, but analogous to the Zend, and the sur- ( yiving sacred language of the Indians, could be discovered, > immense difficulties, which now oppose themselves to a criti- cal inquiry into the respective mythologies, would be radically , removed. - .r The essay which we are now passing under review, has ad- g-yanced one important step in investigations of this nature. ,! Whilst Mr. Salt justly assigns the first idea of the phonetic oipowers to Dr. Young, he awards the credit due to the labours -'of his rival Champollion. To the names which have been biftlready explained, he adds, in plate I., those of Arsinoe, and »i 'Philip, the father of Alexander; and in that of Berenice, cor- rects Dr. Young's and ChampoUionV, error respecting tiie
■rw
Salt on Hieroglyphics. 89
g-oose of the Nile, which, as in the name of Cleopatra, evident- ly appears to have been *' an hawk, or a crow, or eagle.'" The latter writer is proved, by his own phonetic alphabet, to be decidedly wrong ; since he makes the goose representative both of A and 2, which could not have been the case, without in- ducing an inextricable confusion in the whole system. The specimens of the name of Arsinoe, from Gau Kibeer, Edfou, and Dakke, exhibit most complete illustrations of the charac- ters hitherto discovered. Here we notice symbols united with the phonetic hieroglyphics, the figure of Isis as ordinarily sculptured, indicating the goddess, the egg and the half-circle denoting her sex. The name of Philip, changetl into Greek characters, will show the singular order in which the letters jwere often placed :•»*»*) <-iiUiji. •tit •. iV il l>nj;
But here'ireitniMfihotic'^aTi'dftiissittt in!Wi»i^»MWtelfiHabet, which assigns to the O the hieroglyphic (O; but not its rntorted form G), which actually occurs in this nami?."' This mode of arranging the letters has some faint parallel in the modern as iwell as ancient coins of the Arabs and Persians;" '" In plate II. the names of Nero, Commodus, Adrian, Anto- ninus, *' and one which appeai-s to be Marcus Verus Antonine Sebastos Autokrator Caesar, forming the ornaments of a cor- nice in the interior of a small propylon, on the west of the island of Philre," were observed in these symbolical charac- ters. From hence, Mr. Salt digresses into a statement of his reasons for believing the correctness of the phonetic system, into which we shall not follow him, being convinced by the testimony of the Rosetta stone, independently of his own re- searches, that it may be most perfectly substantiated ; and contenting ourselves with citing, from p. 17> a vahiable criti- cism^ in which he has felicitously indulged :**JOi ^u 4Ja3i
9tJt- Salt on Hieroglyphics*'
'* I may Tiete premise, that it is of great consequence towards decipher- ing the names of the old Egyptian kings, to which subject I shall now proceed, to observe, that in almost all the examples that have come be- fore me where the Emperors, and, in frequent instances, where the Pto- lemies are designated, the name of the king is found in the second ring, the first ordinarily containing their mystic or other titles, notwithstanding that the wasp and plant are placed before the first ring, and the goose of the Nile and globe before the last. This makes it almost impossible, that the two latter signs should represent ' son of,' as so generally sup- posed, on Dr. Young's authority, as it would render the reading in most cases absolute nonsense ; of which I may cite as instances,' the rings where Alexander is named at Karnak, those containing the titles and name of Philip, those containing the titles and name of Cleopatra at Coos, and elsewhere, omitting innumerable other examples that stand in the same predicament. It struck me indeed some years ago, that the goose and globe, the former of which, on Horus Apollo's authority, ought to represent ' son,' might rather be distinct signs, and, as we have good reason to think that the circle represents * Re,' or the Sun, that the two together might admit of the interpretation, ' Son of the Sun ;' and the circumstance of this very title, ' o Yto? H\/ow,' being, in fact, placed. Justin the corresponding position before the name of Ptolemy in the Rb- setta inscription, gives almost a certainty to my conjecture. This con- jecture is confirmed also by my having been able to trace the word * son* as designated by the goose and a single numeral, or oblong square, de- noting masculine, as in many instances at Dakk6, at the little temple of Isis Thebes, on a fragment of a statue' in my possession, and at Eleithias, where I first clearly ascertained the point, as also that ' daughter' is ex- pressed 1)y the goose and a half-circle (the round uppermost), and like- wise at Elephantina and other places." j-
These remarks are corroborated by a subsequent discovery at Philas ; and no doubt of their correctness can arise in the minds of persons versed in eastern titles: that of " Son of Osiris, Re, or the Sun," yvsLS of the most common occurrence, and had its coanterpart in various other countries. The By- zantine historians have preserved instances w^hich are com- pletely analogous. The erasures, which have been found to occur in the second ring of inscriptions, " where the name of the founder has been displaced by that of a Ptolemy, while the titles in the first ring have been preserved, as suiting equally well, no doubt, a Ptolemy or a Pharaoh," were " noticed by Mr. Banks, in the temple of Luxor, and since detected by him in many other instances of the studied and systematic erasure of some one particular character, wherever it shall have oc- curred as the component part of a particular name." The singularity of this fact consists in the circumstance of most examples of this erasure being found to have occurred in the
Salt oji Hieroglyphic^ 91
same name as that mentioned by Mr. Banks at Luxor, and this name Mr. Salt imagines to be Amenoph. We are by no means satisfied with the cause of the erasure, suggested in the notes ; nor can we imagine, that if there had been some ori- ginal error in the orthography, it would have been so universal. However unauthorized our conjecture may be, we should rather suspect it to have been some prefix or title, that gave umbrage to some subsequently reigning power; which, if true, would satisfactorily account for its universal erasure, t Dr. Murray, as cited by Mr. Salt, has observed, that as the" names of the iEgyptian kings were derived from those of the ^Egyptian deities, it is necessary to know the signs and figures by which they were representetl, since we have seen that the images of the Gods are admixed with the hieroglyphics. Sub- mitting Dr. Murray's remarks to actual proof, Mr. Salt was enabled considerably to extend our previous knowledge of the subject, and arrived at the conclusion, that the phonetic cha- racters were in use, at least, in the time of Psammitichus. Probably they were far anterior to this epoch, and varied, if at all, but for a short period, in antiquity, from the other parts of the symbolic system. That abundantly more yet re- mains to be elicited, we argue from their exclusive accommo*" dation to the Greek alphabet, whereas even the modern Coptic-' contains some characters unknown to it; and it is verydoubU'* ful, if the Greek letters perfectly answered to all the soundi of the ancient .fl^gyptian. The language of the country, before the Ptolemies, could have had little or no similarity to the Greek, as we are certified by the Coptic grammar; yet, when the Greek became the court-dialect, we may imagine the cha- racters of the one to have been as much as possible reduced to the series of the other. But, with the exception of Greek names, we depend upon the Coptic for an explanation of the hieroglyphics; and as we shall succeed in unravelling them, the more perfect will become our acquaintance with this ancient and interesting language. In all the phonetic table* , which we have seen, we are dissatisfied with the reference of ^ the first symbol indicative of the vowels to an arbitrary soundjt that may be applied to either of them, especially as particular* vowels are, in the subsequent part of the table, marked by, particular figures, such as the Band O in Salt's list. W«i^ imagine that they had an arrangement, which has not yet beet^. defined : yet, where certain consonants are consecutive, with* ocft the intervention of a vowel, we ^an readily suppose, from existing proofs in the Sanscrit-family of languages, that ft .
92 Salt on Hieroglyphics.
short and obscure vowel sounds like the Indian jT, was inserted, '/or? io.Qd, ^ij.i lo vboui biii ni ixunii lo-
Consequently',"Wfe artr'dlS'^sId to attaeH et^y credit to Mr. Salt's application of this system to the " names of the iEthio- pian sovereigns, who had — held the country in subjection ;" more especially, as we are of opinion, that if any words be at a future time deciphered, to which the remains of the Coptic afford to us no solution, we must look for our interpretation of them to some ^Ethiopian dialect ; and possibly, in some de- gree, to the Arabic.
The discovery of the name of 2ABAK0 or 2ABAK0$e at Aby- dos, and of TIPAKA at Medinet Haboo, whom Perizonius in- correctly has identified, the one with the other, not only attests the truth of the Biblical history, as to the existence of this ^Ethiopian king, but proves the phonetic to have been ** in use full seven hundred years before the commencement of the Christian sBra." And it is worthy of remark, that the names of Sabaco, Tiraka, and of others, are deciphered from right to left, which is directly contrary to the manner of read- ing the present Coptic, and to the order of the Persepolitan inscriptions. It is contrary, also, to the modern ^Ethiopic, which circumstance, although it will not militate against the analogy of words in either language, shows that the usual Eastern mode of writing was adopted by the ^Egyptians. The name of Tiraka, also, induces reason to suspect, that our phonetic tables are greatly imperfect : the lion couchant, which represents the P, is entirely omitted in Salt's specimen ; and occurs in Salt, Young, and Champollion, as a sign of the A, which we can scarcely conceive to be correct. And the mystic titles in the other ring evidently appear, from their analogy to the partially discovered alphabet, also to be phone- tic, which we have no doubt that a little time will prove them to be. Professor Hammer some time since edited, from the Arabic, a series of mystical alphabets, many of v/hich exhibit a striking similarity to these characters ; and, in the series, we not only detect phonetic characters, but symbols of ani- mals, plants, and other things. This work is worthy of the attention of the investigator of iEgyptian hieroglyphics ; and^
as it is but little known, we su|3Join its title ; ^US-yy^^ .y.*', j„^ii\ jytj ^A^ ^ — imagining, perhaps not without
reason, that it may give a clue to many hitherto undis- covered.
Salt on Hieroglyphics. 93
The plates of the ^Egyptian deities are valuable, although the illustration of them in the body of the book contains little that may not be found in Jablonski's Pantheon, and Dr. Young's works. They serve to establish the fact, on which we have insisted, that there were symbols of deities inde- pendent of alphabetical symbols, since we notice botli in this catalogue. But, by their aid, Mr. Salt has been enabled to decipher the following names of the ancient kings of ^gypt:— .
^ Namc« of Kings. Phonetic chaiacters, by which expreued. ^
" RamesQs Thothmosis PEMESE2 80,9510212. ^u
Misartes .."".' 1" ' \ . MI?APTE2N. ,
Amcnummcc 'P.V!. ...V". AMYXM'ANYTVrHi, ;
Ramcscs me Amun \ M^ \, Mtl, pte]JfE:2E2.
The same, when in first ring, beforo\ pj^^^i j. ve2, MEAMYN.
the name of Amcnoth J
Amenoth ...... -.-X .!• . .-. ........ AMY\OG<I'.
Ochyras jt). V7I5 . rJ^PlUp.Vi . OKIPE. -«»
Ameniiraraeei!tia.O/lt.Oi.(TllUl'V. AMYNM'NAMEE. 't^l
Osorchon . .'.f. (sA.*. .V«. ."ohfi^ t^tU. . AMYNM'OXOPKON. u
Sabacho 2ABAK0e*. ; )
Tirhuka TIPAKA. m
Anuraere .... .PENYMEPE. ,,^
Necho, discovered by ^^r. Apasta^y.NEXO. ^
Psammuichu, . . . . . :;;;^V-.. .jnSAMITIK.
Aniaijis .,..^., ,., ,PEME2E2. .
This last he consuuM-s (o l)e Alexander, which ig^^ jrei^y probable conjecture ; and he adds tp (he mun)3er ihe nanies of four other ^Egyptian sovereigns, which can?;iot be traced in any author, viz. Amun-Athurte, Ainun-Meerut, Remeneith, Rem-merun. The name likewise of Zcrah, who is mentioned in scripture, was found ne^r Mount Sinai, expressed as 22EPA in the phonetic characters. To which are adjoined those of several queens : — ,,^
Ouccis. Phonetic chkraciefJ.'by irt>\cl/U^tf«*?i.'"^
" Isis 81 Atliur . ." I2I22' A0YP. '■■^ '" .ioilno*^
Rcmcses Aihiu-, wife of Amcnoth . . .PEME2E2 AeYPI»4| j ,,f „r 'l1 d
TjtSira Mcrum, (^idf king's name\^^2;ipAMEPYN. ,
above) . , J .-._'!. ■ / J
fame, wife of Ita^iesis in Amur. . . . TAME2IPA. V - '>t \*- i -,. , i , jj
i:a$aate .......;.. TASAATE. , u i 1i' tfiiJl. ^ooemT
Teethothe ! TEEGOeE. , .hari^^di
Amun Meethe AMYNMEETE."
'♦
94 View of the Roman Catholic Doctriri&s.
After carefully examining the plates, we were not perfectly satisfied with every name, and had occasion to repeat our ob- servations on the defective state of the alphabet. Many of these are too much founded on conjecture, and will probably be differently explained when the system shall be reduced to a greater precision. Yet, immense ingenuity and indefa- tigable research have been displayed, and very many results of this laborious inquiry carry with them substantiations of theic truth. And, notwithstanding we have animadverted upon cer- tain deficiencies in the alphabet, we cannot but award to Mr. Salt the merit due to him for the discovery of several new symbols ; and hope that, with his local opportunities, he will direct his attention to a better arrangement and an increased improvement of their phonetic powers. His work affords the hope that, at some future period, the wisdom and aTropptjra of iEgypt will be removed from the veils under which they have reposed for ages, and fill up part of that mighty chasm, which the vicissitudes of the nation,haye.v,caused_>i,n its historic page. ■iiii ni ^BVq'a 'q7T
Aht. VII. — Letters to Charles Butler, Esq. on the theological Parts of his *' Book of the Roman Catholic Church." By the Rev. H. Phillpotts, D. D. j]
Among all the wonderful occurrences by which it has pleased Providence to mark the eventful times in which we live, none, perhaps, is more extraordinary than that the Protestants of England should be engaged in the nineteenth century in de- fendingthe first principles of their Reformation, and disputing with the Roman Catholics of these realms about the funda- mental dogmas of their faith. Long did the war of controversy last : long did the pulpits of England resound with the terms of Protestant and Papist: while the press teemed with diai-. quisitions on the papal supremacy, on purgatory and image-? worship, and all the doctrines of the church of Rome. Afe; length the combat ceased : the Protestants tired, satisfied, victorious, discontinued the unprofitable and unnecessary war- fare ; and many years have now elapsed since these dogmas furnished subjects for discourses to the preachers of the uni- versities, or the metropolis, or the parochial ministers of England. So long, indeed, has been the interval of repose, that the vast majority of the people of this kingdom are
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 95
entirely unacquainted with the tenets and principles of the Romish church ; they have heard of them as the controversies of olden times, and have wept over the histories of their fore- fathers ; but of the doctrines themselves, except what they have gathered from history, they know nothing' : the mind has turned naturally to the study of those subjects, which are of more pressing and immediate interest: peace has been productive of partial idleness ; and ignorance has been the necessary result. So far, at least, is certain, that we have heard only the report of these things, and know nothing of them from our own experience. '
But this state of affairs is gone : the silence of repose is broken : the Romanists have again raised the cry of war and have sounded the trumpet of defiance, and have challenged us to meet them on the old ground of doctrine and of truth : and the time is come, when every minister of the church of Eng- land must again buckle on his armour, and prepare himself to defend the very citadel of Protestantism and the palladium of his faith. We speak in the old-established metaphors of theology ; but, nevertheless, we wish to be understood as speaking with very solemn seriousness ; and as recommending the clergy of England not indeed to discourse on these subjects to the people, but to study, with all possible care and atteur tion, the fundamental tenets and principles of Protestantism. For discoveries have been made, and are still in progress, of the most unexpected and extraordinary kind; discoveries which, if any thing in this age of discovery could have astounded us, would have produced astonishment and surprise. It is more than three centuries since Luther proposed his theses on the subject of indulgences ; and all Europe, with one voice, cried aloud for Reformation in disgust. It has now been discovered, that the doctrine of indulgences was harm- less, and that Luther's clamour was uncalled for; that there is " nothing in it contrary to common sense, or prejudicial to the interests of religion or morality."* It has been discovered, that the Romanists never held those doctrines of temporal supremacy and universal power, which they have since dis- claimed ; and we have been challenged to produce any evidence of such tenets out of the authentic documents of their church. f It has been discovered, that the church of EinglandJ believe'
-^rm — — ' lut c'j'i" 1»>
• Butler's Book of the Roman Catholic Church, p. IIO. .i
t Id. pp. 131 and 136. ^
t Report of Mr. Cjmning's Speech. JBook of the Roman Catholic Church, p, 119.
96 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
in consubstantiation — that she is equal in intolerance to the church of Rome, because she joins with her in admitting the Athanasian Creed * — that the Reformation has conduced neither to the progress of liberty nor the improvement of lite- raturef — that Cranmer was sanguinary, and Latimer a traitorj — that the Papists had no hand in the Gunpowder Plot§ — and that the second James was a liberal and tolerant prince. |( These, it must be confessed, are discoveries of no ordinary magnitude, even in this century of lights. But this is not all. It has been discovered, that the doctrines of the church of England are, after all, nearly, if not altogether, the same as the doctrines of the church of Rome — that we have been fighting all along, not for a substance, but a shadow — that some of the greatest divines of the established church have coincided in opinion with the Papists — that our belief in the fitness of praying to the saints is " the same^ — our practice the same — our language precisely the same as theirs" — that the doctrine of absolution in the church of England differs in no way,** that the Romish prelates can perceive, from the doc- trine of the church of Rome ft — that prayers for the dead and purgatory are maintained by the greatest luminaries of the Protestant faith :|:j — that auricular confession is the acknow- ledged doctrine of our church — and finally, that " no one who believes in the real presence of Christ can take the oath against transubstantiation."§§ These discoveries, as we have said, are strange, and have made the ears of the Protestant clergy of this empire to tingle — the news, probably, has burst upon them somewhat suddenly and unexpectedly, that they are worshippers of saints, believers in purgatory, and affianced to a faith, which requires the acknowledgment of the neces- sity of sacramental confession and absolution. But even this is not all — would to God it were — ^there are other signs of the
* Report of Mr. Canning's Speech. Dr. Doyle's Evidence before the House of Commons. (Lo>ido7i, J.Murray, 1825.)
t Book of the Roman Catholic Church, pp. 170-186,
if Id. pp. 209, 218. " Cranmer's sanguinary scheme." " Latimer guilty of high treason."
§ Id. p. 278.
II Id. p. 341. " His (James's) project for effecting a general religioya toleration was entitled to praise."
^ Letters of J. K. L. p. 279. Book of the Roman Catholic Church, p. 102. End of Controversy, p. 251. Dr. Doyle's Evidence before the House of Commons. '"J
** Dr. Doyle's Evidence given in this article. End of Controversy, p. 297. jrlr
ft Book of the Roman Catholic Church, p. 106'. End of Controversy, p. 313, | ,.
XI Id. p. 107, and End of Controversy. ,",
§ § Id. p. 1 1 9, and End of Controversy. ; "
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 9t
times, more dangerous and important than these assertions of Romish prelates and vicars apostolic : insinuations thrown out from other quarters more fearful and alarming. Are we not right, then, in saying, that it is time that the clergy should pre^^ pare themselves, should again direct their attention to the exami- * nation of those doctrines, which have been so long neglected anid, ' despised ?
It is not to be denied, that they will now approach the subject under some manifest disadvantages. The long disuse of the practices of the Romish chnrcii, the small acquaintance with their tenets, that is possessed by any class of tlie community, except the clergy, has given a boldness to our adversaries, and a security to their assertions, against which the first champions of the Reformation had not to contend. When they charged the Roman Catholics with holding any doctrine, or professing any tenet, they were writing for a people, who could ascertain bv" their own experience, and knowledge, and practice, whether such charges were true. When Bishoj) Jewell said to Mr. Harding, " Deny no more the manifest truth, avouch no more the open falsehood ; let there be some probability and likelihood in your sayings;'^ he spf>ke a language, concerning which every English* j man could determine for himself, whether it were calumnious of true. The consequence was, that Cranmer, and Latimer, and Jewell, were never, or vei-y rarely, called upon to prove the fact, that such and such were the real doctrines of the church that they opposed : the fact was admitted, and the doctrine was de- fendea : and the Rjeformers had a different and an easier task of showing, that the doctrines themselves were indefensible on any gi'ound of scripture, of tradition, or of reason. And they did their work witli a power irresistible, and ultimately imrcsisted j>^ many of the obnoxious tenets were discarded ; and Popery itself gained no small advantage from the labours of those venerable men. And now these tenets having been disclaimed by a large portion of C'hristcndom, and no individual in this country having had experience of their real existence, it is boldly and unequivo- cally asserted that they never did exist. This difficulty, how- ever, relates altogether to the historical part of the question ; but another, not less in magnitude, arises out of the same cir- cumstances, when we are called upon to examine the actual doc- trines of Romanism, as they are now acknowledged and coni.^ fessed : more particularly, when we come to consider the prac- tical effect and operation of these doctrines upon the minas of the people. Happy was it for the Protestant controversialist, when his own eyes and cars could bear witness to the doctrine oi Papal satisfactions, and meritorious works — when he could point
VOL. I. H
'§8 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
to the benighted wanderer, working his way to the shrine of our Lady of Walsingham, or Ipswich, and hear him confess with his own mouth, that he trusted to such works for the expiation of his sins — or when every eye could behold " our churches full of images, wondrously decked and adorned ; garlands and coronets set on their heads, precious pearls hanging about their necks, their finders shining with rings, set with precious stones ; their dead and still bodies, clothed with garments stiff with gold."* Happy was it for the ease and character of the controver- siahsts who lived in those days, and who could say in the strong language of the beloved disciple, " That which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, . that declare we unto you." But those days the Almighty, in his infinite mercy, has removed from us ; and willingly do we undertake the additional labour imposed on us by their removal. There is no other way of providing against these difficul- ties, but by appealing continually to the doctrinal and histo- rical documents of former times, in proof of the doctrines which were maintained before the Reformation, and have been since discarded ; and, notwithstanding the advice of Lord Lansdowne, and other great ^personages, we must go to Bellar- mine and the Councils ; for the single reason, that the nature of the arguments admits of no other method of reply. With the view, again, of discovering the present state of Romanism, as it is professed and acknowledged in these realms, we must still go to the councils and the catechisms ; simply, because these are the testimonies to which our adversaries themselves refer us. We wish noble lords and gentlemen would remember, that, however forbearance from such studies may be fitting to legislators and nobles, yet it cannot apply to the humble clergy ; they have no such lights, no such facility of knowledge : Alcibiades was ready enough to allow, that the shoemaker required the knowledge of the use of his awl, and the carpenter of his adze ; for the senator alone, he pleaded the privilege of ignorance, and an exemption f^'om all study ; and in later days, it was only of the " gens de qualite," that the illustrious Marquis de Mascarille declared *' qu'ils savent tout sans avoir rien appris."
We shall take leave then, in defiance of this excellent advice, to continue our ancient studies, not omitting, however, the other part of the course recommended to us, a steady attention to the signs of the times. Yet, in these investigations, we meet with
/4»ii- ,„., .M
* Homillest 3d Sermon against Peril of Idolatry.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 99
new difficulties at every step ; difficulties attributable (as we are compelled to say) to the extraordinary conduct of our ad- versaries. Is evidence adduced from councils, from the bulls and decrees of popes, from the sacred canons, from the writ- ings of cardinals, bishops, and the most learned writers of the church of Rome, in attestation of their tenets ? Their evidence is refused as not bearing on the question, and is not even ad- < mitted as proof of the opinions oi the Romanists at any time. To the Council of Trent alone are we to go — a council after all, be it remembered, many of whose decrees were never admitted by several parts of Christendom — some, indeed, never beyond the precincts of the Papal territory : while, on the other hand, individual treatises of Roman Catholic writers, some of them of no great authority, are proposed to us as documents of appeal — such as the works of Bossuet, of Gother, and Dr. Milner ; but of this we shall have occasion to speak more hereafter. In the mean time we observe, that we accept these works as they are offered to us, and are ready to take tnem as containing the present con- fession of the Romish church. But, in regard to the doctrines which are renounced, the application of the postulate is impos- sible and absurd.
But if we have to contend with these various difficulties, some facilities, on the other part of the question, are afforded us by the circumstances of the present day. It is in vain that Dr. Doyle, and the other Romish prelates of Ireland, assure the two houses of legislature, that the doctrines of absolution and of saint-worship are the same in England as at Rome : every man's sense and experience can refute the calumny ; every man, wo- man, and child, of the Protestant communion, of every rank and class, can declare that he knows it to be false ; and the spread of Protestantism, therefore, though it renders it more clifficult to establish the real nature of the Romish tenets, gives us, at least, the advantage of repelling more easily the multifa- rious calumnies which have been promulgated against our owa religion. ^ ,; ^,f-.
With this view, then, of the importance of the inquiry, and the difficulties which surround it, we hold it our duty to con- tribute what we can towards the performance of the task we have recommended ; and the answer of Dr. Phillpotts to Mr. Butler will furnish us with the opportunity of doing it. He has selected that chapter from the " Book of the Roman Catholic Church," which contains the tenets professed, according to the opinion of Mr. Butler, by the members of his communion ; and he has argued each point at great length, and with extraordinary accu- racy and learning. We shaU follow tlie same plan with Dr.
II ^
100 View of the Boman Catholic Doctrines.
Phillpotts; and our continual reference to his arguments and proofs, will best show our opinions of his merits. One part only of his work we shall be obliged, for want of room, to leave untouched ; we mean, his refutation of the charges brought against the faith of Archbishops Laud, Sheldon, Wake, Bishops Blandford, Montague, Gunning, Dr. Thorndyke, and others. In this part of his work, we have no hesitation in saying tliat he is perfectly triumphant, and we refer our readers to it with extreme pleasure and satisfaction.
We proceed tlien to lay before them our view of the Roman Catholic doctrines, and of the doctrines of the church of Eng- land, on the points in controversy ; and we desire it well to be understood, that we give the Roman Catholic writers of this country, perfect credit for the sincerity of their assertions : we accept the basis which they propose : we appeal, in proof of the actual doctrines of their church to no other evidences, except those to which we are referred, viz. the Council of Trent, the Catechism of Trent, the Creed of Pius IV., the Exposition of Bos- suet, the *' Papist Represented and Misrepresented," of Gother, and " The End of Controversy," of Dr. Milner. In accepting these latter works, we give them greater advantages than we would grant to Protestants, and greater, as we think, than our adversaries are in the habit of granting to us ; but as these books do not essentially differ from each other, we desire to make no objection to them. And we hopC; that notliing of discourtesy will escape us in the course of this article ; no insinuation of motives ; nothing personal or offensive ; nothing contrary to that style of controversy which Mr. Butler so warmly recommends.
. On the worship or invocation of saints. — Kv^iov Tov %jv
Jrov mfocr-KwricrHc, xa* avlu i^lovoj Xtxl^iixruc. So Said Moses when he re- capitulated the law to the children of Israel ; and so said our Saviour when he rebuked the Tempter : and the Protestants have interpreted these words in agreement with the first commandment of the decaloguC; as conveying a solemn prohibition of the wor- ship or adoration of any other being except the one God. But the Romanists have put a different sense upon them. Two words, they observe, are here employed, t!!^oa-yJn<Tiq and xa.rpha. Of the former, it is, indeed, commanded that it should be offered unto God, but it is not forbidden to be off*ered to other beings. This prohibition applies only to the latter — of Xor^tja, only it is ordered that it should be confined altogether to God. Out of this interpretation has arisen a division of worship into different kinds and species ; and upon this division hangs the whole doctrine of the Romish church on the subject of the adoration, honour, and reverence due to saints.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines, 101
The first and highest kind of worship is Latvia, which is to be offered only to the blessed Trinity. The second is Hypei- dnlia, which is to be offered only to the Virgin Mary, who, being far above all creatures, is to be adored with a worsliip propor- tionally superior. The third is Dulia, which is to be offered to saints and angels. That latria is due only to the Trinity is continually asserted in the councils ; but the terms of dulia and hyperdulia have not been adopted or acknowledged by them in their public documents : they are, however, employed unani- mously by all the best writers of the Romish church, and their use is maintained and defended by them. " Neque obstat,*' says Bellarmine, " quod Patrcs raro meminerint nominatim duliae ; nam cum dicunt sanctos et imagines coli deberc^ et non latria ; satis indicant, debere coli alia specie cultus ; cam nos vocamus duliam." " Nam cum in re inveniatur manifesta distinctio inter cultum Dei et sanctorum ; oportebat etiam ad vitandam aequivo- cationem invenire distincta vocabula: optima autem erant ista duo : primo, quia Scriptores sacii vocera Xaxfua nunquam usur- pant nisi pro cultu solius Dei, ut patet ex toto Novo Testa- mento ; voccm autem ^ovXtia. usurpant pro omni servitute, tarn Dei, quam hominum. Deinde, antiqui patres nunquam nomen latrise tribuunt nisi Deo, cum tamen etiam sanctos coli dicant-"*'* It would, however, have been much more convenient, if the •councils had publicly adopted and acknowledged the term ^ovXiU, as it would have saved all the difficulty arising out of the continual employment of the word " adoratio,*" — a difficulty of such frequent occurrence that, although the term is univer- sally applied by the councils to the worship, whether of the • Trinity, of angels, or of saints, or even of images, their writers have, nevertheless, recommended that, in all controversies with heretics on this latter subject, the words " venoratio" and "honor"" should be substituted in its stead. " Conserendo manus cum heretlcis praestaret abstincrc ii nomine adorationis imaginum, satiusque esset uti nouaine vencrationis et honoris, ne ex locutionis modo occasionem percipiant obdurationis in suis erroribus." Bail. Summa Concil. i. iiGl.
« It is admitted, then, on all hands, that the adoration which is to be paid to the Virgin, to angels, and to saints, is inferior IwtJi in kind and degree to that which is due to the blessed Trinity. But it is not so easy to define exactly the acta pecul^ to tji^^dl^-
, ■ ■ ' i /I /I. ..
■•"'•-"■' " '-■"'' -■'' •• '•■■ ^uxiA.siurjhih
" Bellatn. de Beat. Sanct. lib. i. cap. xii. . i (■ i
'"/■''■■" 'i' ■< t'-*-"'itfjd tnoUinuIn;
102 » Fieii} of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
ferent species of worship. Some acts tliere are, according to Bellarmme, which must be performed only in the highest kind, such as those of sacrifice, of the dedication of temples, of vows, with some others ; these acts must not be directed immediately to those beings who are the objects only of hyperdulia or dulia. This part of the inquiry, however, is more theoretical than useful ; and as every thing that can be said on it must be derived not from councils, but from doctors of the Romish church, whose authority would be called in question, it is not worth while to enter upon it now. And, therefore, observing only that the catechism of Trent still retains the term of " adoratio angelorum," we pass on to state the difference in the nature of the worship to be addressed to the several beings who are the objects of it, as it is now imiversally admitted by the Romanists, confining our statement to the only act which is now insisted on, the act of invocation or prayer.
The doctrine, then, of the Council of Trent, on this point, is as follows.* The saints reigning with Christ offer up their prayers to God for man. It is a good and useful supplication to invoke them ; and to have recourse to their prayers, help, and assistance to obtain favours from God, through his Son Jesus Christ our Lord above, who is our Redeemer and Saviour. The catechism, published in pursuance of the decrees of the council, teaches, that " God and the saints are not to be prayed to in the same manner; for we pray to God that He himself would give us good things, and deliver us from evil things ; but we beg of the saints, because they are pleasing to God, that they would be our advocates, and obtain from God what we stand in need of." — " Open our prayer-books, you will find that when we address God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, or the Holy Trinity, we say to them, * Have mercy on us ;' and that when we address the blessed Virgin, the saints, or the angels, the descent is infinite, and we say to them, * Pray for us.' ""
The Articles of Henry VIII., put forth in 1536, long before this decree of the Councd of Trent was passed, are precisely in harmony with the doctrine contained in these passages. " As touching praying to saints, we will that all bishops and preachers shall instruct and teach our people that, albeit, grace, remission of sin, and salvation cannot be obtained but of God only by the mediation of our Saviour Christ, who is only sufficient
Book of the Rom. Catholic Cburcb> p. 100.
Fiew of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 103
mediator for our sins; yet it is very laudable to pray to SJunts in heaven everlastingly living, whose charity is ever permanent to be intercessors, and to pray for us and with us, unto Almighty God, after this manner : * All holy angels and saints in heaven pray for u^and with us unto the Father, that for his dear Son Jesus Christ's sake we may have grace,'" &c. &c. So also in the " Institution of a Christian Man," and the "Necessary Doctrine," put forth in the subsequent periods of that reign. Nor is there any thing that we know of in any of the older councils in any way contradictory to this doctrine; it is uniformly asserted, that the prayers to saints are only petitions for mtercession; and it is as uniformly maintained that this intercession does not inter- fere with the one mediation, redemption, intercession, and advo- cacy of our Lord Jesus Christ.* Nor is there any thing in the authorized Litany of the church, or in the general spirit of the authorized Missals, contradictory to this doctrine. The Litany contained in the Missal of Clement VIII. (which is that now before us) coincides precisely with the Litany of the " Garden of the Soul ;"t and the prayers in it are addressed, in general, either to God, beseeching him to accept the intercession of his saints, or to the saints, bcseecliing them to intercede with God. But this is not universal: there are many prayers in the formularies of the church of Rome addressed immediately to the saints, without any mention of intercession, or any intimation that these prayers are only on their journey to a higher throne ; and the defence, which IS made by Bellarmine of this custom, is as follows ; and it may be taken by every one as its real value. J *' It is to be observed,"" he says, " that when we say we must only invoke the saints, in order that they may pray for us, that our rule is applicable, not to the words, but to the sense ; for, with regard to the words, we may say, St. Peter, have mercy on us, save us, open to us the gates of heaven ; again, we may say, give us health, patience, fortitude — only we must understand that St. Peter is to save us, to have mercy on us, by praying for us ; and to give us this or that by his prayers and his merits ; for such was the custom
-'I'l n, I
• Seo Missale Rom. ex deer. Sacrosanct! Cone. Trid. reslit, Paris, 1 625.
t This is ttie prayer book in general circulation among the Roman Catholics of the United Kingdom.
X Est tameu notandum, cum dicimus, non debera peti k Sanctis nisi ut orent pro nobis, ncs non agere de verbis, sed de sensu verborum : nam quantum ad verba, licet dicere ; S. Petre, miserere mei, salva me, aperi mihi aditum oceli : item, da mibi saoitatem corporis, da patientiam, da fortitudinem, &c. dummodo intelligamus salva me et miserere mei orando pro me, da mihi lioc et illud tuis precibus et meritis : sic enim loquitur Gregorius Naz. Maria mater gratiaa mater misericordis. Tu nos ab hoste protege et bora mortis suscipe. Bell, de Beat. Sanct. lib. i. c xriii.
104 ^ View of the Roman Catholic Doctnness\
of Gregory Nazianzen, and many others ; and such also is the custom of the universal church, when in th^(^|]3jjQ[ijp,lli9i1^)X,irginj
;,jft»fl^ uioji' ?;*'^ O Virgin Mary most gracious^ f u nifU') ti'jm ' viilw nr -vP i«other of mercy incomparable, '( 'i^'ic^p-n orlw , jiu;JA"JO'i<ii Froi" om' enemies defend thou u3, ^»jp'^. ol Jtol. [ir|8 oib ^ vd h-o.!. ' ji^^^ ^" ^^^^ ^^""^ of death be favourablfeiAV-fi -Anxm '>f1i '■..
• -Nd^; alfeWing the validity of this defence"; "allowiiig that ijo}/ persons M^ell informed of the express offices of the Virgin and th^, , saints, of the limits of their powers, and the measure of their duties, such a continual substitution of ideas may be familiar and easy, (though, we confess, it does not appear to us to be so,) we are, nevertheless, bold to ask, whether for the multitude, who arc employed incessantly in material and worldly things, whether for that very multitude, which is so rude and so little spiritual, that, according to the confession of the Komish church, they need the aid of images and relics to make for them bridges, as it were, over which they may pass from earth to heaven, such forms of prayer are fitting ? — whether it is right to depeiid so entirely on their power of abstraction ? — a power which, if they have it not, will, by its absence, lay them open, from the confession of all men, to the guilt of positive idolatry. We cannot think it right that such equivoques should be left in any form of prayer promulgated for general use. How is it possible that the rude, unpolished hind, or " the lean unwashed artificer," should understand the following address in any other sepsethannas a prayer directed immediately to the Virgin : — - ,'.;<;'
«« O pure, O spotless niai4,,.;-,(^ %^ wdiom '^isv --mH'
Whose meekness all surpass' cJ^;(;:^^,.|({;;i<t'.w nfl Our lusts and passions quell, j^,„(f ,^^f, „j^ aoioj-iH
And make us mild and chastp^,^ rjti^^ii Siit ytt i<rl Preserve our lives unstained, h^louri f j -. '• •! '
And guavd us in our wajr^^ ^^^ ,, Until we come with thee ..^ ^^,^^\^
To joys that ne'er decay^i\* ]^^^ ^^^ ^
We pass on now to consider the persoiiar dignity of those beings who are thus addressed, with the view of ascertaining the ideas which every piaia and honest suppliant must, necessarily, conceive of them, and whether ,th,e t^j^x^g i^ ;wf|iiph, tliq pejc^Je hear
• See Primer of Queen Marj-, Loud. 15-55. v
t Garden of the Soul, p. 207. Phillpotts, p. 47. _^ . . ^^^j^
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 105
H
them spokeii of and praised in the formularies of their f^^t^,ArB , calculated to impress them with the conviction (which Mr. Butler, Dr. Doyle, and Dr. Milner are anxious to convey as the real sense of their church) that these beings are nothing more than mortals, who having passed through this vale of misery, in which we are still left to sojourn, and having attained to the inheritance of the saints in light, are permitted to approach their Lord by means of prayer and intercession. We begin with the Virgin Mary. The fir^t principle then of the Romish church is, that " she IS "the mother of God," that she sits " trinitati sessione proxima" — above all angels and archangels and all the host .
assertion./ ,^;^.^^;^^^ ..!.\:;i ., ,.:t „!:. J.k or h!,.r ....< .-hr*'- rn.
" Rejoice, 0 fk)wer of virgins all, lu thine honour and grace es^jeciall :
Exceeding a thousand fold '^
The principality of angels emineni. And the dignity of saints refulgent,
More than can be told. Rejoice, 0 spouse of God, most dear, ;
For, as tlie light of day so clear ..■
Comieth of the sun most radiant, .)
Kven so dOst thou cause, questionless,, . V i L^„ /,.«..7-. .!...■» 1 lie world to flourish m quietness, ,, ' i ^
1 hroiigh thy grace abundant. '\. -,
Rejoice, O vessel of virtue splendeiifi^^ '"' ' ' ■ 1'/^
;i ,:.)i< At whose« beck and oommandrnent "Olloj
All the heavenly consistory, D'jmnu
The most gentle and also happiest. The very mother of Jesu Christ,
Do worship with much glory. Rejoice in the bond of charity, Por by the liege of dignity, -
Thou art coupled witk God so near, That thou viaijest, at thy desire. Obtain all that thou luilt acquire
Of Jcsu, thy son, so dear. * Rejoice, O mother of wretches all, .j^j no .-h<j j //
For the Father that is eternal, j.,j{j j,.(^(, <),|// ^.ani-jr!
To them that do thee reverence, „i,.i y^.-,.,.-, ^\.,^^\f, ^,,j!„
In this world gives them wages, , ^ |„»,, ;„,.,,,^ 'Uy<Myjiio->
And a place in the heavenly stages
In the kingdom of excellence.
•<l ' .'9*,- .q ,lMo» 9ii\Q nokitii^ • Tills idea runs through the wbole of Ihe Primer,
106 View of the Roman Catholic Modrin^
■''^'t .H" Rejoice, O mother of Jesu ChrisV ^ii^ iuVi -.''■v^S|„^.;,r»rt.-..i^ Which wast alone most worthiest,
O Virgin immaculate ! ^j,. To b^ of such high dignity,
^ The next to the blessed Trinity,
In place thou art now collocate.''*
To this we subjoin the prayer which follows it immediately in the Primer.
" O most holy and humble Spouse, most beautiful maid, Mary, Mother of God, Virgin elect, conduct us the right way unto everlasting joy, where is perpetual peace and glory. And ever sweet Mary, give hearing to my prayer with a benevolent ear."* We suppose that " conduct" in this Collect is to be taken as equivalent with the expression " obtain by thy prayers that we may be conducted." In conclusion, let the reader take the doxology at the end of the Primer : " To the holy and indi- visible Trinity, to the humanity of Jesu Christ crucified, and to the glorious Virgin Mary, glory infinite be given of every creature, world without end. Amen."
We give these passages from the Primer, because they are " done into English" to our hand: but they may be found in all the authorized Missals of the church of Rome.
When our readers shall have perused and considered atten- tively the documents here adduced, we recommend them, also, to peruse and consider attentively the following passage in the evidence before the committee of the house of commons.
" The Committee find, in a treatise called, ' A Vindication of the Roman Catholics,' the following curse : ' Cursed is every Goddess worshipper, that believes the Virgin Mary to be any more than a creature, that honours her, worships her, or puts his trust in her more than in God; that honours her above her Son, or believes that she can, in any way command him,' — ^is that acknowledged ? Ans. That is acknowledged ; and every Roman Catholic in the world would say with Gother, accursed be such person." -f- Now upon this anathema we cannot help observing, that no anathema was ever more strangely worded, if it was the object of the author to convey the idea that his church does not worship the Virgin Mary equally with God — that it does not
• See the " Prosa de Virg, Maria," in the" Miss« propriae Festorum," published by authority at Rome, and amended according to the decree of the Council of Trent. See also the last " Prosa " in that book, which concludes in these words : — " Bene- dicta per tua merita, te rogamus, mortuos suscita et dimittens coram debita, ad re- quiem sis eis semita, O Maria. Amen."
f Dr. Doyle's evidence before the house of commons.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 107
honour her equally with her Son ; or does not believe that her Son will always attend to her requests. If this is the real meaning of the anathema, why is it not said expressly and explicitly ? Why the words " more than God," " more than her Son" " command him"? We do not mean to charge the church of Rome with holding even the milder form of doctrine — though we do say positively that she approaches very nearly to it — ^but there is something in this form of the anathema which we are unable to explain or understand. As for the power of the Virgin to command her Son, we have, however, a word or two to say — Dr. Phillpotts has produced the well-known words out of the office of the blessed Virgin,
" Monstra te esse Matrem ; , ,«j( 9umat per te preces,**
and has pointed out the deviation from the real meaning of the words, as it is given in the " Garden of the Soul." That our readers may judge for themselves, of the change which has been made in the whole hymn of late years, we give it as it is found in the Primer of Mary, and in the book of devotion just named.
PRIMER.
" Hail ! star of the sea most bright,
0 mother of God immaculate ; A pure virgin in God's own sight —
The gate of heaven most fortunate. Saluted thou wast with great huraiHty,
When Gabriel said, — Ave Maria. Establish us in pace and tranquillity,
And change the name of sinful Eva. Loose the prisoners from captivity ;
Unto the blind give sight again ; Repel our great iniquity ;
All that is good for us obtain. Show thyself to be a mother.
So that he accept our petition. Which, for our sake, before all other.
Was contented to be thy son. 0, Blessed Lady ! 0, singular virgin !
In perfect meekness all others exceeding, Deliver us from bondage and sin.
And make us chaste and meek in living. Make us ever pure life to sue.
Guide us safely upon our journey, That we, beholding the face of Jesu,
May joy with him ia heaven alway."
ids View of the Roman CatJiolic Doctrines.
•^r^Mat^'-^^rfiiprrGARDEN OF THE SOUL. .^Wffp-M
. ; j -, " Hail ! thou resplendent star
Which shinest o'er the maiu; '^'' ' Blest mother of our God, '''^^ ;«'i''
^" And ever virgin queen. ■ ' ^
Hail ! happy gate of bliss, ■> iiJM.u Greeted by Gabriel's tongue ; iUiIU OJ Negotiate our peace,
And cancel Eva's wrong. Loosen the sinners bands, iU^U ^iU -^1^ 6vils drive away ;
ijQiT Bijr. Bring light unto the blind,
^fTiiM' "—"'J. '^"^ ^"'^" ^^"^ graces pmy.
-j. A '< Exert the mother'' s care,
• r ■ '" And us thy children own ; '"'*'*, r''''^^ -'^
' Who chose to be thy son. ' '
O, pure and spotless maid," &€.
The remainder has been already quoted in p. 104.
The passages in Italics will mark the diflrerence, and will show how the idea of negotiation^ of prayer to the Son, &c. has been introduced in the modern hymn ; no hint or intimation of which is to be found in the old. Do we blame Dr. Challoner, or those who altered the hymn on this account ? Not so — we applaud them greatly, and delight in being able to adduce this testimony in proof of the improvement that has taken place in the external formularies of the Roman Catholics of the United Kingdom. But, lest it should be said, that this change has been made, not from any real necessity of the case, but to meet the prejudices and leave no handle to the misre- presentations of the Protestants, we shall tal<:e leave to show that the ancient interpretation of the words, by the best Roman Catholic divines, was that which, indeed, alone the words can bear, that the Virgin was able morally and effectually to command her Sort. When Bishop Jewell first brought forward the passage against Mr. Harding, and insisted that this was their meaning, what was Mr. H.'s reply ? Did he say that they had no such meaning — did he pretend to say that " matrem"" in the hymn, meant, as " the modern version" has rendered it " mothel: of us," instead of "mother of Christ.'"' Nothing of the kind ; he acknowledged the real meaning of the words, and made this pleasant apology for them : " If now,*" he says, '• any spiritual man, such as St. Bernard was, deeply considering the great honour and dignity of Christ's mother, do, in excess of mind, spiritually sport and dally, as it Avere, with her ; bidding her to remember that she is a mother, and that thereby she has a certain right to command her Son, and
Fim c/ the Roman Catltolk Doctrines. J 09
require, in a most sweet manner, that ^he use her right, is this either impiously or impudently spoken ? Is not he rather most impious and impudent that findeth fault therewith ?'* Bishop Jewell here exclaims, " O, when Avill Mr. Harding confess a fault ?"" * The Roman Catholics of this empire have at last confessed it, and expunged the passage from their book. But were the Roman Catholics of ihe day as much ashamed of it even as Mr. Harding, or did they attempt to mitigate the words by any explanation whatever ? We leave the following comments from great doctors to our readers. Cardinal Damianus says thus : " Accedit ad illud aureum Divinae Majestatis tribunal, non rogans. sed imperans^ Domina non ancilla." Albertus Magnus, in his , " Biblia Mariae" — "Maria orat ut filia, jubet ut soror, imperat ut mater.'" Another writer has these words : " Beata Virgo, pro salute supplicantium sibi, non solum potest filio supplicare, aliorum sanctorum more, sed etiam potest filio auctoritate materna imperare. Idco sic l^coXasiqi oroX., /• Monstffi te esse matrem.'' Quasi diceret Virgini imperiose et materna auctoritate supplica pro nobis." Now, then, we ask, is this^ 9f ''^ ^^ "°^> ^^^ meamng of the words ? If it is, then the proposition anathematized i.s admitted. If not, then we have the evidence of no unlearned or ignoble writers, of cardinals and doctors, that such was the interpretation which they put upon them, and such was the doctrine they inculcated: and, if men of their rank and acquire- ments so understood the words, liow is it to be supposed again, tl^at the multitude could decide otherwise, especially when such is, ;fi fact, their plain, real, and indisputable signification.? Upon whom then does the anathema of G other fall.? Let the Rovnish church decide. , ,,^ .^_^ (niV i '^^^
Of the rank and dignity of the saints we nave not room'^ib speak. The principle generally laid down by Roman Catholic writers is this : that each saint is most qualified to intei'cede for that blessing by the possession of which he was distinguished during his abode xJftj,^^h. And the hypothesiSjj^8| n^tvjrj^ enough. ^ M ; !.' . ., ,:• ' „'! Jit
We proceed now to examine into another principle belonging to this doctrine. What is it that gives the saints a right to interest themselves in this manner in behalf of man .? Is it merely, as we are told by Mr. Butler and Dr. Milner,, and all the mass of tlie Roman Catholic writers of this day m jEngland, , th^ ,th? »i piats, ,h^vipg l^?e^ , ?i|f»f t<,ed. ^^J? .their|^jor^,
.TmTTTTTT-T ; ..0t,ob
l.,.ij biUi ,1..: 'Jewell's Workf,15ty„^,^i^^^^4^,^,i j.,„„i,jj . ,^rf
'" f«o'^ Ta^ \ iAvoVty) ft fcfifl or/a ydoTuiT
w^
110 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
are admitted also to a greater familiarity with God, in conse- (juence of their own security and proximity to God ? This is not the doctrine of the Romish church. She holds that the right of the saints to address the Almighty, and to intercede with him, is founded on their merits, and on the superabundance of the good works which they performed during their abode on earth. Such is the tenourof all the prayers in the Missal and in the Primer. We give one of each, " Deus, qui beatum Nicolaum Ponti- ficem innumeris declarasti miraculis: tribue, quassumus, ut ejus meritis et precibus a gehennas incendiis liberemur, per Dominura nostrum."* " O God, whose right-hand did hft up blessed Peter the Apostle, walking among the waves of
water and deliveredst his fellow Apostle Paul after three
days sailing, from the deep of the sea, hear us mercifully and grant that through the merits of them both, we mav obtain the glory everlasting, &c.""-f- And so constantly. Now the principle on which this doctrine is founded, is thus described and insisted on in the *' Necessary Doctrine and Erudition.'"' "As touching the communion of the saints, ye must understand, that, like as all the parts and members, which be living in the natural body of a man, do naturally communicate and minister, each to others, the use, commodity, and benefit of all their forces, nutriments, and perfections — even so, whatever spiritual gifts or treasures is given by God unto any one member of the holy church, although the same be given particularly unto one member, and not unto another, yet the fruits and merits thereof shall, by reason of their abiding together in the unity of the Catholic church, redound unto the common profits, edifying, and increase of all the other members of the same Catholic church. And, hereby, is notified and declared unto us the utility and profit which all the members of the church do receive by the merits, suffrages, and prayers of the church. ' And upon this principle Bellarmine| and all the best writers of his church rest the right of the saints in heaven to interest themselves with God for their fellow-creatures upon earth : and therefore, says the margin of the catechism of the Council of Trent, " Sanctorum merlta nos adjuvant." Now this is very different from the foundation on which Mr. Butler, Dr. Doyle, and Dr. Milner rest the right of the saints to pray for the sojourners on earth.
We wish this was all we had to produce — we wish the Roman
Missale Rom. 424. t Queen Mary's Primer.
X De Rom. Pont. lib. iii. c, xxi.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines * 111
Catholics could say to us with truth, " It is confessed that vre do allow the co-operations of the merits of the saints with the merits of Jesus Christ : but at least to the Redeemer only we confine the solemn office of intercession by the sacrifice of his blood." What will our readers say to the following prayer of the Primer on the festival of St. Thomas of Canterbury? " We pray thee, through St. Thomas's blood, which he for thee did spend." But here we must stop, and conclude this part of our subject by observing one very remarkable fact, that none of these writers make any distinction between the worship of the Virgin, the angels, and saints— though the rank and dignity of these beings are altogether different from each other — though the principles on which their worship is founded are different, as any one may see by an inspection of the catechism : and though the worship paid to the Virgin and the saints is essentially distinct in the ideas of every real votary of the church of Rome. — But not a word is now said by them of the particular worship of the Virgin ; one might almost suppose that the queen of heaven had been forgotten by these wnters — not that we forget the Litany to the Virgin in the " Garden of the Soul,"" but we speak only of the method employed by the conductors of the present controversy.
It is fitting, however, that we should remark, that all the ob- jectionable doctrine of merits and sacrificial intercession, is ex- punged from the book of devotion, which we have so often quoted — but what conclusion are we to draw from all this ? That the Roman Catholics of this empire disapprove of the conduct and tenets of all the other Roman Catholics in the world ? For the missals of the church of Rome have undergone no change : all these passages remain in them — and the Gallican church has not, we believe, expunged them from her service-books, her missals, or her hours. Surely these matters are not so trivial as not to be considered as " Articles of Faith."
We pass on to the sentiments of the Protestant churches, on the subject of the invocation of saints. And, taking this doc- trine as it is professed by the Roman Catholics of England and Ireland, viz. that it is right and laudable, that the members of the church militant on earth should pray to the saints in heaven, to intercede for them with Christ — we reject it on the following grounds: — First, Because we have no certainty that the saints can be acquainted with our prayers. This is the point which constitutes one essential and amazing difference, between the prayers of Christians for each other upon earth, and the prayers which the living offer to those who are removed from them. Here, we are addressing ourselves to those, who can ** notas audire et reddere voces : aud when St. Paul asked for the prayers
jy^ View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines,
of Philemon, and trusted they would be available to him, (which is the instance given by Dr. Doyle in his evidence before the committee,) he was, at least, assured that Philemon was ac- quainted with his wish. But we know nothing of this in regard to St. Thomas or St. George. In answer then to this difficulty it is said — First, That the saints are themselves able, in their state of spiritual blessedness, to hear our prayers. And this solution, though exposed to one insuperable difficulty, appears to us, after all, the most natural account of the matter. For the mind can con- ceive, and does perhaps, not unfrequently, figure to itself the pre- sence of those beings, who were dear to us on earth, hovering over us with tenderness, and anxious for our interests and our actions ; but. shall we on this play of the imagination, this phantasy of the brain, found a religious service, and venture on the solemn act of prayer.? — Secondly, It is said that the angels reveal our prayers to the saints; and this, too, is not impossible — but how do the angels themselves know our prayers, and what reason have we for saying, that if they do know them, they reveal them to the saints ? Shall we act upon this double conjecture ? — Thirdly, It is said that God reveals our prayers unto them. How do we know this ? and what, in this case, would be the process ? We are to pray to the saint — God reveals our prayer to him — he then repeats to God that very prayer, which God has just re- vealed to him. Is such a circle as this a good foundation for our invocations ? — Fourthly, It is said, that all things are in God, and the saints see God ; therefore they see our prayers in God. This reason, notwithstanding all the exphcations which have been given of it, we confess ourselves unable to understand — and how do we know that the saints are already admitted to the fulness of the beatific vision .? On none of these grounds, then, can we conclude that the saints are acquainted with our Avants ; and therefore we decline praying to them on the bare possibility of that knowledge.
Secondly, What assurance have we that the saints, to whom we are desired to pray, are really in heaven .? The illustrious patron of England was, perhaps, a doughty champion, and the con- queror of a mighty dragon ; but is it so sure that his mightiness is either in heaven or in purgatory ? and might he not, by chance, find his place in the third canto of the great poet of Italy ? This is an important question. It were sad to mistake in this point ; and to pray to one to intercede for us with God, who may him- self be driven from the face of the Almighty, and be suffering for his sins. Oh ! but the Pope has canonized him, and by his authority fixed his abode in the regions of the blessed. Cedimus arguraentum.
Fiew of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. IIS
Thirdly, We consider prayer an act due only to God. We conceive the commandments of scripture to be plain, explicit, and decisive. We find many injunctions given to us that we should pray for each other — but none that we should pray to the saints to pray for us.
Lastly, We conceive prayer of any sort or kind, and inter- cession or mediation of any st)rt or kind, to interfere with the one intercession and mediation of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. The Romanists assure us, that the intercession of saints has no such interference, and anathematize all who say it has. We give them credit for the sincerity of their assertions, but are un- able to understand their reasonings. Upon these grounds, then, we reject altogether, and without (jualiHcation, as unwarranted and unscriptural, the invocation of saints as it is professed, ex- plained, and practised, by the Roman Catholics of England and Ireland.
Will it now be believed, that Dr. Doyle in his Letters J. K.L.* has the following sentence ? " It may be curious to show that the belief of the Catholic on this subject, which the Pro- testant swears to be idolatrous, is, like that on many other sub- jects, equally reviled, substantially the same as his own ! ! !'* Admirably imagined ! — but we can give no other answer than this :— if there be any Protestant in the whole realm of Eng- land, who professes to believe in the lawfulness of the invocation of saints, who has ever from his cradle worshipped angel, or archangel, the Virgin, or any saint whatever, let hmi, in the name of God, come forth.
On the question whether the invocation of saints, professed and practised by the church of Rome, is idolatrous or not, our opinion is this : that in the public formularies of their church, and even in the belief and practice of the best informed among them, there is nothing of idolatry, although, as we have said, we deem that practice altogether unscriptural and unwarranted ; but we do consider the principles relating to the worship of the Virgin calculated to lead, ui the end, to positive idolatry ; and we are well convinced, and we have strong grounds for our conviction, that a large portion of the lower classes are in this point guilty of it. Whether the invocation of angels or of saints has produced the same effect, we are not able to decide.
On iMACE-woiisHir. — The committee find, in a treatise called " A Vindication of the Roman Catholics," the following curse, in a statement of curses : first, ** Cursed is he that commits
• P. 27«. VOL. I. I
114 View oftJte Roman Catholic Doctrines.
idolatry, that prays to images or relics, or worships them for God;" is that a doctrine which is acknowledged by Roman Catholics ? Answer. That is our proper doctrine, and I and every Roman CathoUc in the world would say with Gother, accursed be such person.
Such vras the question, on the subject of images, proposed by the committee of the house of commons to Dr. Doyle, and such was his answer to it. And we believe Dr. Doyle spoke truly, and that such is the belief of every well-informed Roman Catholic in the world. It is and always has been the unquestionable doc- trine of the Romish church, that images are not to be worshipped as God. The great principle upon which all the devotion, honour, respect, and veneration paid to images were founded, was this: that the worship offered to them belonged, not to the image, but the being represented by it. — " Honos enim (says the Council of Trent,) qui eis exhibetur, refertur ad prototypa, quae illas representant."" And so say the old verses : —
" Effigiem Christi, dum transis, pronus adora, Non tamen effigiem, sed quod designat, adora."
This principle, however, of reference to the prototype, is not so easily understood ; and it has been interpreted, as Bail ob- serves, in his Notes on the Second Nicene Council,* in two ways — one set of divines asserting that no honour or worship is to be paid immediately to the image, but that the whole is to be given to the prototype — the only use of the image being to excite holy affections in the mind, and to fill it with the remem- brance of the excellencies which belong to the being it repre- sents: but in this decision, he says, there are difficulties; for, as the council declares that images are to be worshipped, though not with Latria, it is clear that worship of some kind or other must be paid to them — and this worship must be, in some sense, direct and immediate ; for, if the whole worship paid to the image were referred to the exemplar, then the image of Christ must be worshipped with Latria — and hence lie con- cludes that there is an inferior kind of veneration due to the image itself. The worshipper, therefore, before an image of
• As the Council (rf Trent adopts the decrees of the second Nicene Council on this subject, Bail has given all his observalioas on the subject of image- worship after the decrees of the latter. There is, in truth, no diflference between the decrees of the two councils, except that the older council retained the word " udoratio," meaning, of course, adoration in its lower sense ; while the Council of Trent has discarded this term, and adopted the words, " honor," " veneratio," and " cultus." We desire to be understood as attributing the same idea to the words of both councils, — the idea expressed by Dr. Miloer under the names o/ '' relative or secondary veneration."
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 115
Christ, will pay to the prototype the honour due to him — to the Trinity, the worship of Latria — to the Virgin, Hyperdulia — to the Saints, Dulia — but to the image itself he will offer nothing but an inferior worship, veneration, or respect.
The definition given by Harding,* in his answer to Jewell, agrees substantially with this decision of Bail. " And now," he aays, " we are come to declare how images may be worshipped and honoured without any offence. That godly worship, which consisteth in spirit and truth inwardly, and is aeclared by signs outwardly in recognising the supreme dominion, which, pro- perly, of the divines, is called Latria, is deferred only to the blessed Trinity. As for the holy images, to them we do not attribute that worship at all, but an inferior reverence or adora- tion, for so it is named : which is nothing else but a recognising some virtue or excellence protested by outward sign, as reverent kissing, bowing down, kneeling, and such like honour. Which kind of adoration or worship we find in the scriptures oftentimes given to creatures. The whole act whereof is, notwithstanding, referred not to the images principally, but to the things by them represented, as being the true and proper objects of such wor- ship. For although the honour of an image passeth over to the original or first sampler, which the learned call archetypum, as St. Basil teacheth : yet that high worship called Latria belongeth only to the blessed Trinity, and not to the reverent images, lest we should seem to be worshippers of creatures, and of matters, as of gold, silver, stones, wood, and the other like things.*' And in the " Necessary Doctrine,"-!- put forth in the reign of Henry VIII., the same principle is asserted: " Whereas we use to cense the said images, and to kneel before them, and to creep to the cross, with such other things ; yet we must know and undec- stand, that such things be not nor ought to be done to the image itself, but to God and in his honour, although it be done afore the image, whether it be of Christ, of the Cross, or of our Lady, or of any other Saint." The acts of adoration wliich the Council of Trent particularly specifies as fitting, arc those of kissing the images, and uncovering the head before them.
Such, then, is the unquestionable doctrine of the Romish church, viz.: that images are not to be worshipped as God — but only with an inferior and secondary veneration, and that even this honour must be referred to the Being represented by the image.
• Harding's Answer to M. JucUe's CLollenco. t P. 300.
I 2
116 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
But, although the Romish writers assert that this kind and degree of veneration is to be paid to images, yet the best expo- sitors of their church assert that it was not primarily for the purpose of this worship that they were placed in churches — but merely, as Harding says, (and there is, after all, no better and more honest expositor of the Romish doctrines than Mr. Harding,) from other motives of a more secondary nature. And, 1st, for the benefit of knowledge. For the simple and unlearned people, which be utterly ignorant of letters, in pictures do, as it were, read and see no less than others do in books, the mysteries of Christian religion, the acts and worthy deeds of Christ and his saints: 2. for the stirring of our minds to all godliness ; for whereas the affect and desire of man is heavy and dull in divine and spiritual things, because the body that is cor- ruptible weigheth down the mind : when it is set forth before our eyes by images, what Christ has done for us and what the saints have done for Christ ; then it is quickened and moved to the like will of doing and suffering, and to all endeavour of holy and virtuous life : 3. for the keeping of things in memory neces- sary to our salvation.*
We have thus given what we believe in our consciences to be the real doctrine of the church of Rome on the subject of image- worship, and we have not hitherto said a word which any honest Roman Catholic will, as far as we know, be anxious to controvert or deny. Only we cannot agree with Mr. Butler, Dr. Milner,-|- or Petavius, that the honour and veneration of images is accounted by the church of Rome among things essential and d^Kx-ipofot : for if this were so, it were strange, indeed, that " every non- Catholic who goes over to that church, should be compelled to assert most firmly, that the images of Christ, and of the mother of God ever-virgin, and also of the other saints, are to be had and retained ; and that due honour and veneration are to be given them. "I It were extraordinary, surely, to make that com- pulsory on the faith of every convert, which is acknowledged by the whole church to be indifferent in itself.
Such, then, were the theoretical principles laid down by the councils; but did the practice of the people correspond with these principles ? As for the lawfulness of the worship of images in any sense of the word, this can only be decided by positive appeal to scripture; but, as to the propriety of retaining images ill chuTcheSy which is a very different question, the experience of
Hurding's An.swer to Jewell. f End of Controversj', p. 259.
I Book of tile KoDiuu Cutholic Cburcb. p. 5. See (Uso Pbillpotls, i , 23*
i
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 117
ages, as to the effect resulting from sucli a custom, may go far in deciding it. And here it is that Dr. Milner complains of the gross misrepresentation and calumny of the Protestant divines. " This has been misrepresented," he says, " from almost the first eruption of Protestanism, as rank idolatry, and as justifying the necessity of a reformation. The book of homilies repeatedly affirms, that our images of Christ and his saints are idols ; that we pray and ask of them what it belongs to God alone to give ; and that images have been and be worshipped, and so, idolatry committed to them by infinite multitudes, to the great oftcnce of God's majesty, and danger of infinite souls; that idolatry cannot possibly be separated from images set up in churches, and that God's horrible wrath, and our most dreadful danger, cannot be avoided without the destruction and utter abolition of all such images and idols out of the church and temple of God." Now, our readers will observe, that in these words there is not the smallest imputation of idolatrous intention ; they assert, indeed, that idolatry had taken place, and maintain the principle that such will, in the long run, be the invariable consequence of the prac- tice of setting up images. Now, if this statement is false, it must be confessed by every Protestant, with shame and sorrow, to be a most impudent and shameless calumny. But let us see. What were these homilies .'' Was the publication of them a thing done in a corner .'' When they were composed, were they given to the clergy for their own instruction, to furnish them with the topics against the Romanists, or in order that they might disse- minate them among some chosen few .'* They were ordered, Dr. Milner, to be read publicly in the churches, to be delivered every Sunday in the cars of a pcoj)le who were just emerged from this idolatry, — they were appeals to the practice of this very people, — appeals which every mdividual of every congrega- tion could verify, — which, if they were true, would answer the „ 'purpose that was intended by them, — if they were false, were the »^"most absurd and dangerous instruments which the friends of the Reformation could employ. But the very idea of their falsehood is pregnant with absurdity ; if it were so, the danger and the mischief would not end here ; if it were possible that any set of men could make appeals of this kind to tiie people of any nation, and call on them to bear witness to facts which they had not seen, as if they had seen them, the very evidences of Christianity would be shaken. We hold the evidence of the homilies to be the strongest testimony of the effect of the Romish practice on the principles of the people that can possibly be given; stronger even than that which we are now about to adduce, the evidence of Roman Catholic councils. „ •;" -
118 View of the Roman Catholic Doctf^di.
At the beginning of the Reformation, the ecclesiastical Electors of the Empire were the persons, of all others, who, if their advice had been followedj might have gone far to prevent the schism, and preserve the unity of the church. Resident in Germany, wit- nessing with their own eyes the diffusion of the new opinions, and the growing anxiety and irritation in the minds of men, they saw that nothing could avert the danger but a speedy and immediate reformation of the Romish church. This reformation they pressed on the Pope, as eagerly and as anxiously as they could — but in vain, and they were obliged, therefore, to take it into their own hands. Herman, the Elector of Cologne, went so far into the Reformation, that he was degraded from his arch- bishopric, and excommunicated. Sebastian, Elector of Mentz, adhered to the church of Rome, but called a provincial council for the purpose of reformation during the sitting of the Council of Trent. All the decrees of that council which had hitherto been promulgated he adopted ; but the decree concerning images was not yet made ; his council, therefore, made one for itself. In this decree,* remarkable for many reasons, there occurs the following passage : — " Wishing to prevent all evil superstition, we enjoin all ordinaries, in case they should observe within their territories that the people are in the habit of collecting before any particular image ^ out of respect to the figure of the image itself and that they attribute to the said image any idea of divinity, to remove the said image, or to change it, and to place one noto- riously different from the former in its room, lest the rude multi- tude, naturally Ioav in intellect, which it was intended to raise by sensible means to lieavenly things, should, contrary to the inten- tion of the church, place their hopes in the material image, and, perhaps, even in some particular image out of some fancy and affection to it ; as if there were some necessity in it, which would induce God and the saints to do what they desired."^ Now, is it possible for any honest man to read this decree, and not to confess that the common people of the electorate of Mayence had limited
• This decree, besides the passage given ia the text, contained also a declaration, forbidding all worship of images, and was, as Paolo Sarpi observes, very remarknble on that account: — " Fraquesti, i capi quarantuno e qiiarantadue sono no(abili ; dove insegna e replica, che le imagini non sono proposte per adorarle o i)restargli colto alcuno ; ma solo, per ridurre a memoria qMcUo, che si debbe adorare." Nor did the 45th chapter of the Council of Mayenee excite less surprise, by declaring that the saints were to have no honour except that of fellowship and affection, — like saints in this life, only in a higher degree, in consequence of their actual possession of that bless«?dDe.i»s to which tiie living can only aspire : " Le quali esplicationi, ben consi- derate, mostrano quante fossero in que' tempi diflerenli le opinion! de* Prelati di Ger- Diania Catholici, da quelle della Cone Romana, e della prattica, che s'e introdotta dopo U Concilio di Trento."— Cone. Mogunt. c. 48.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 119
their worship to the ima^e itself — had attributed to it some divinity — had conceived that it contained in itself some active and effectual power ? Can any man believe, that the elector and his council were providing agamst a possible and imaginary evil, and that they took the chance of specifying one particular evil, which was not prevalent and generally known ? The idea is evidently ridiculous. The evil Avhich is animadverted on, was an evil practically felt, and to which all Europe could bear witness. A decree, precisely the same in substance, had been put forth in England in the year 1543.* " They do err,'' it is said, " who put difference between image and image, trusting more in one than in another, as though one could help or do more than another, wlien both do but represent one thing, and, saving by way of representation, neither of them is able to work or do any thing. And they also offend, that so dote in this behalf, that they make vows, and go on pilgrimages, even to the images ; and there do call upon the same images for aid and help, phantasying that either the image will work the same, or else some other thing in tho image, or God for the image sake, as though God, super- naturally wrought by images, carved, engraven, or painted, brought once into churches, as he doth naturally work by other his creatures. In which things, if any person, heretofore, hath or yet doth offend, all good and learned men have great cause to lament such error and rudeness, and to put their studies and diligences for the reformation of the same." On these words, we observe, in the first place, that they are contained in the very same chapter, which we have already quoted, as justifying the censing of images, the kneeling before them, and such other things ; and, therefore, we suppose it will hardly be considered as unfair testimony. Are the evils, then, here also, imaginary and unreal? Were the bishops, then, of England and Germany mad, when with one voice they defended the honour of images, and proclaimed the most fearful e\ils of positive idolatry as likely to arise from them, although, according to Dr. Milner's hypo- thesis, they never had arisen ? Last of all, we quote the decree of the Coimcil of Trent; and our readers must excuse us, if we do not take the trouble of translating it. " In has autem sanctas et salutares observationes, si qui abusus irrepserint, eos prorsus aboleri sancta Synodus venementer cupit ; ita ut nullce falsi dogmatis imagines, ct rudibus pcriculosi crroris occasioneni praebentes statuantur. Quod si aliquando historias et narra- tiones Sacras Scriptura?, cum id indoctse plebi expediet, exprimi
Necessnrj Doctrine, p. 301.
120 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
et figurari contigerit, doceatur popalus, non propter ecL Divini- tatemfigurari^ quasi corporeis oculis conspici, vel colorlbus aut figuris exprimi possit. Omnis porro superstitio in sanctorum invo- catione, reliquiarum veneratione, et imaginum sacro usu tolla- tur, omnis qusestus elimlnetur, omnis denique Jascivia vitetur."" Are all the evils, too, which are here enumerated visionary and condemned in prospect ? Ohe ! jam satis est.
These are the testimonies on which we rely with confidence, in proof that the charges adduced in our homilies against the practices of the times, were founded on the most positive reality, and exactly and literally true. But at the time of the lieformation, nothing more was necessary than to appeal to facts which were before the eyes of all men — nor is any thing more requisite even now in any country in which the Roman Catholic religion is predominant and established. Bail, who compiled his Summa in the latter part of the seventeenth cen- tury, admits the prevalence of these abuses in his days. " It ought not," he says, " to be any prejudice to the cause of truth, that abuses should sometimes arise among the unlearned people in consequence of images : for laws are intended to provide for the good of the many, not the few. Those who are ignorant, must be taught by their pastors ; but a custom, which has at all times existed in the church, which has l)een, I do not say in- stituted, but confirmed by the authority of councils, is not to be abrogated in consequence of the abuses of individuals." Now, what event was there in France between the time in wliich Bail lived and the Revolution, which could prevent the abuses which existed in the time of Bail and Bossuet, from existing still .'' This last event, indeed, which overturned every altar, and laid all religion prostrate, did, for a time, necessarily carry away with it these tremendous evils. It remains to see whether the genius of the Roman Catholic religion, now again predominant in that country, will not bring them back.
Gf the doctrine of the church of England on this head, there is little to observe. She interprets the second commandment literally and strictly : she refuses to make to herself any graven image for the purpose of paying to it any religious worship, adoration, honour, reverence, or respect. She considers every act of this kind to be expressly and dehberately forbidden by the most solemn words of a jealous God. In the fearful declaration of the Almighty, she discerns no hidden marks of the divine wisdom, who knoweth tlie inward hearts of men, and is thoroughly acquainted with the constitution of the creatures •whom he has made : who saw that the smallest beginnings would end at last in positive idolatry, and spiritual death : that man,
View vfthe Homan Caiftolic Doariii€8: I2l
placed by his own hand, in the midst of carnal, and sensible, and material things, would, naturally, without these temptations and allurements, incline too much to them, and be unable, with- out great and continual exertion, to raise his mind to the con^ templation of a spiritual being. And, on these principles, she believes that he sh )wcd his people " no similitude" in Horeb, and forbade them to make any similitude hereafter. She is un- willing to fix upon the principles of the llomish church, the charge of positive idolatry ; and contents herself with declaring that " the Romish doctrine concerning the adoration, as well of images as of relics, is a fond thing, vainly invented, and grounded upon no warranty of scripture, but rather repugnant to the word of God." * But in regard to the universal practice of the Romish church, she adheres to the declaration of her ho- milies ; and professes her conviction that this fond, and unwar- ranted, and unscriptural doctrine, has at all times produced, and will hereafter, as long as it ii> suffered to prevail, produce the sin of practical idolatry. These, if we know them truly, are the sentiments of the church of England ; and from these senti- ments we trust in God that she will nerer suff'er lierself to be diverted by the misrepresentations of her adversaries, or the weakness of her friends.
We have been so long on the subject of images, that we must refer our readers to Dr. Phillpotts for the equally, and, in some cases, even more important article of relics : observing only, that the doctrine of the Couneil of Trent on this head is, that they are to be venerated by the faithful, and that the catechism asserts, that the garments and handkerchiefs, the sacred ashes, and bones, and other relics of saints, are the instruments of the divine miracles. " Quid multa ? si vestes, si sudaria, si um- bra sanctorum, priusquam e vita migrarent, depulit morbos, viresque restituit : quis tandem negare audeat, Dcum per sacros cincres, ossa, ca.'terasque sanctorum reliquias eadem niirabiliter efficere." The doctrine of the council is, that relics have no divinity belonging to them — how far the practice of the Roman Catholics of any country has been in unison with this principle, let the breviaries of the church of Rome, let the history of former days, let the eves of every person, who ^as travcllecf on the continent for the fast ten years, declare.
i> We cannot refrain from affixing to this article, a charge brought by Ur. Milner -f- against the ancient English translation of the Bible: " In support of this impious fraud, {Hrong lari-
• Art. xxii.
t End of ConfroTcny, p. 254.
1^ View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
guage for a man, who is held up by Mr. Butler^ as a model of the polite style of controversy !) the Holy Scriptures were corrupted in their different versions and editions. — See in the present English Bible, Coloss. iii. 5. Covetousness which is ido- latry. This in the Bibles of 1562, 1577, and 1579, stood thus : Covetousness which is the worshipping of images. In like manner, where we read : A covetous man who is an idolater ; in the former editions we read : A covetous man which is a wor- shipper of images. Instead of " What agreement hath the temple of God with idols ? 2 Cor. vi. 16. it used to stand : How agreeth the temple of God with images! Instead of Little children, keep yourselves from idols, i John v. 21. it stood during the reign of Edward and Elizabeth : Babes, keep yourselves from images." We shall give him the answer to this ludicrous and extraordinary charge, in the following learned exposition of our homilies ; and leave him to derive from it all the advantage that he may. " The scriptures use the two words ' idols' and ' images,' indifferently for one thing alway. They be words of divers tongues and sounds, but one in sense and signification in the scriptures. The one is taken of the Greek word 'h^u'Kov, an idol, and the other of the Latin word * imago,' an image, and so both used as English terms in the translating of scriptures indifferently, according as the Septua- ginta have in their translation in Greek aJwXa ; and St. Jerome, in his translation of the same places in Latin, hath * simulacra,' in English ' images.' And, in the New Testament, that which St. John calleth nluXov, St. Jerome likewise translateth ' si- mulachrum,' as in all other like places of scripture, he doth usually translate. And Tertullian, a most ancient doctor, and well learned in both the tongues, Greek and Latin, interpreting this place of St. John, * Beware of idols,' that is to say, saith Tertullian, of the ' images' themselves, the Latin words, which he useth, be ' effigies' and ' imago,' to say an image."* What will Dr. Milner now say to the impious fraud "^ But we will ask him one question. Will he not admit that ' image,' is a sufficient rendering of the word st^wXov, in the compound ti^uXoXoclpuex. ? If he answers affirmatively, what ground has he for his objection ? If negatively, does he allow the Xa7pEja of images ? Let him choose.
Traxsubstantiation. — The doctrince of transubstantiation cannot be more clearly explained than in the words of the "Neces- sary Doctrine and Erudition : " — " The sacrament of the altar is
:.-4ii .Vkiii^4..v)„ ^if First Part of Homily against Idolatry.
Viero of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 12S
amontr all the sacraments, of incomparable dignity and virtue ; forasmuch as in other sacraments, the outward kind of the thing which is used in them, remaineth still in its own nature and substance unchanged : but in this most high sacrament of the altar, the creatures, which be taken to the use thereof, as bread and wine, do not remain still in their oxon substance^ but by the virtue of Christ's word in the consecration be changed and turned to the very substance of the body and blood of our Saviour Jesus Christ. So that, although there appear the form of bread and wine, after the consecration, as did before, and to the outward senses nothing seemeth to be changed, yet must we, forsaking and renouncing the persuasion of our senses in this behalf, give our assent only to faith, and to the plain word of Christ, which affirmeth that substance there offerea, exhibited, and received, to be the very precious body and blood of our Lord." In perfect agreement with this exposition are the two canons of the Council of Trent,* the first asserting the change of the whole substance of the bread into the substance of the body of Christ, and of the whole substance of the wine into the substance of his blood — the second anathematizing all who should deny this total conversion, and who assert that the substance of the bread and wine remains, after consecration, in conjunction with the body and blood of Christ.
Conftiibstantiatton consists, not in the conversion of the substance of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, but, as the name denotes, in the union of the two. It is thus described in the Wirtemberg confession of 1552.-f* " Of the substance of the eucharist we believe and teach, that the true body and blood of Christ is distributed in the eucharist, and do reject those that say that the bread and wine in the eucharist are but signs of the body and blood of Christ being absent — hut it is not necessary that the substance of the bread should be changed into the substance of the body of Christ:
• Cone. Trid. Sess. iii. cap. iv. — Qiioniam Christtis Redemptor noster corpus soum id qiiotl sub specie panis ofibrebat, vere esse dicit, ide6 persuasum semper in Ecelesia Dei fuit, idque tunc deniio Sancta hsec Synodus deolarnt per consecrationein jmnis et vini comersionem fieri totiiis substanti.-p panis in suhstiintiam corporis Cbristi Domini nosiri, et folius substimiiie vini in suhstautiiim sang;iiinis ejus qucs converslo convenienter et proprie k sancta Githolica Eoclesifi Transr,vih«1nnliatio est appellata.
Can. 4. — Si quisdixerit, iu sacrosancto Euchurisiire Sacramento remanere substan- liam panis et vini, una cum corpora et sanguine Domini Jesu Christi, negaverittjue mirabilem illnm et singulnrem conversionem totius substantiae panis in corpus, et totius substantiae vini in sangiiinem, mnnentibus duntaxat speciebus panis et vini, qiiam quidem conversionem Catholica Ecelesia Transubstantiationem appellnt, ana- tliema sit.
t We qtiote from a very old translation of the confession. The confeuioD Itjelf may be found in tbe ** Corpus et Syntagma CoofeaioQum fidei."
1^4 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrine^^
bltit it sufficeth for the verity of the sacrament that the body of Christ be truly present with the bread : yea rather, the verity of the sacrament requireth that the true bread remain with the true presence of God."" This is the doctrine of the whole Lutheran church.
Impanation, which is very rarely mentioned by theological writers, but of which Mr. Butler unfortunately takes notice, for the sole purpose, as it should seem, of committing a double blunder, consists in the hypostatical union of the bread and wine with the body and blood of Christ. Dr. Milner, in his " End of Controversy," p. 266, says that " Osiander, whose sister Cranmer married, taught this doctrine.'' We were not aware of the fact: but it may possibly be true; for it is known that Osiander held some peculiar tenets, and excited by them much dissension among the Lutheran party. — There is,- however, one circumstance, which renders it improbable that impanation should have been one of these tenets; for it was proposed at the Council of Trent to anathematize this doctrine, and the proposition was rejected on the ground of the heresy being obsolete.* It was an opinion, they said, invented 400 years before by Robert, Abbot of Duitz, and no longer maintained by any body; and the council was not called for the purpose of condemning ancient, but only modern heresies. Now this was at the end of the year 1551, and Osiander died in 1552. It is, therefore, highly improbable that the council should have declared a heresy to have become obsolete zvhich he professed and tavght openly, and should have asserted that it had not been maintained by anybody for above 400 years.
Having thus explained the doctrines of those from whom tirfe differ, we proceed to explain the doctrine of the church of England on the subject of the sacrament of the Lord's supper. We believe, then, that the bread and wine are outward and visible signs ordained by Christ himself as the means by which he makes us partakers of his most holy body and blood — Ave believe that the bread and wine are the same, both bcfoi-e and after the consecration ; the same in their substance and accidents, in their power of nourishing tlie body, and in all the adjuncts and qualities of matter. But we believe that after the act of consecration they receive a sacramental use and application — and by the express ordinance and promise of the Redeemer become to us the communion of his body and blood. Now, this being the confessed and unquestionable doctrines of the church of England, will it be believed that Mr. Butler has declared
• Paolo SorpI, lib. Iv. xi.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines 125
that " either consubstantiat'ion or impanation is maintained in every Protestant creed.''* We confess ourselves unable to believe the reports which we have read of similar decla- rations issuing from the lips of Earl Grey and Mr. Canninc — two gentlemen, not only great statesmen in their several lines of policy, but who have had all the advantages of the best English education, and who have profited by those advan- tages. What book of annals, what history is there of the six- teenth century, in which the differences of Luther and Calvin, of Cranmer and Melancthon, on the subject of the eucharist, are not pointed out, and shown to be connected with many of the most important occurrences of the day? It is not necessary that any man, for the purpose of acquainting himself with this single fact, should study any voluminous treatise of theology, or go, for a single moment, out of the proper line of political and legislative study — he need not even read the admirable works of Thuanus, or of Sleidan, or any of the larger and better histories of the times. Let him read only the popular history of Robertson, and he cannot be ignorant of the fact that the Lutheran and the Zuinglian cnurches differed on the subject of con substantiation. We do not in our consciences believe that Mr. Canning ever uttered such a sentence. But be this as it may, Mr. Butler''s assertion is in black and white ; he cannot shelter himself imder the mistake of a reporter, or the intemperance of a debate. There is no other apology to be made for him than that with which Dr. Phillpotts supplies him : " Heave you," he says, "in the hands of your own master, Dr. Milner. He was wont, in olden times, to call you a smatlerer in theology."' Let Mr. Butler have the benefit of liis friend's defence. But smatterer is a hard word — we would soften it down, and say that Mr. Butler is an amateur in theology — and that he amuses himself in thisde}Mrt^ ment as he does in history, in biography and bibliography.t In every thing that he has written he has shown himself to be of an active and inquisitive disposition, fond of gathering know- ledge on a vast variety of subjects, to a ccrta'm limit and degree : but the boundaries of his knowledge are not far removed from the starting-post of his inquiry — he is not fond of seeking
• Phillpotts, 245, 240, nnr! his letters to Enri Grey in the Appendix.
■f We think it ris?ht hero to correct a mistake into which Dr. Phillpotts bus falleb. He asoribes to Mr. Butler the words, '• I do from my hejirt love ti .strong argument," and wonders, nuturtilly enough, that he hud not given evidence of his love, in pursuing the object of his affection. But Mr. Butler has not said this of himself; he is »p«akiDg of (be latti Deaa of Cuiisle; 31r. £uUer bad bo wUb to mako lu luugb at bim.
ItW . View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines,
truth at the bottom of a well. It had been well for him, if, on this occasion, he had found her when she lay upon the surface — but let it pass. We hope with Dr. Phillpotts, that we shall hear no more of the church of England believing in consubstantiation.
Having stated, then, what the church of England does not believe, viz. — that there is any change whatever in the substances of the bread and wine, a proposition which requires no sort of explanation, we pass to a matter of greater difficulty, and which has furnished more abundant matter of controversy, viz. to the explanation of the sense in which the assertion of our catechism, that " the body and blood of Christ are verily and indeed taken and received by the faithful in the Lord's supper," is to be understood ; or, which is the same thing, of the sense in which the church of England maintains the doctrine of the real pre- sence of the body and blood of Christ in the eucharist. And we shall give this explanation, in the first place, in the words of Dr. Phillpotts, who has treated this difficult subject with admir- able accuracy and clearness — only observing previously that he is here arguing against Dr. Milner, who, in his " End of Con- troversy," had used words amounting to this, that " the lan- guage of the church of England is chosen for the purpose of disguising her real sentiments, and making it be believed that she holds the doctrine of the real presence, while, in fact, it is certain and confessed that she does not.''*
" The course which I shall adopt," says Dr. P., " is first to disentangle the question from the sophisms on which Dr. Milner's arguments rest; and then to state the doctrine of tlie church of England respecting the real presence of our Lord in the eucharist. I shall afterwards notice certain collateral points introduced by you and Dr. Milner, and more especially some of your and his citations of authorities.
" First, then, Dr. Milner's argument rests on two sophisms, which it will be found worth while to expose, as they are commonly adopted by the modern advocates of your church.
" The first is a petitio principii ; he begs, or rather, he boldly runs away with, the very matter in dispute. He assumes that ike real presence is, and can only be, the corporeal and material presence of the crucified Saviour ; such a presence as can only be effected by changing the sacramental elements into the body and blood of Christ, or by making both substances to be united in one : whereas, as shall be shown presently, and as Dr. Milner perfectly well knows, the church of Eng- land holds a real presence of a very different kind.
" The other sophism rests on an ambiguous meaning of tho word sacrament ; a word sometimes, and more strictly, applied to the sign or matter, sometimes to the whole sacred rite. Now, it is in the former
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrinek. 127
sense that the church of Rome holds the real presence oi the body and blood of Christ in the sacrament ; it is in the latter that the real pre- sence in the sacrament, maintained by the church of England, must be sought. The church of Rome holds that the body and blood of Christ are present under the accidents of bread and wine ; the church of England holds that their real presence is in the soul of the com" municant at the sacrament of the Lord's supper.
" Having thus cleared our way, I proceed to sat o more fully what is indeed tlie doctrine of our church on this subject. She holds, then, that after the consecration of the bread and wine they are changed not in their nature but in thoir use ; that instead of nourishing our bodies only, they now are instruments by which, when worthily received, God givos to our souls the body and blood of Christ to nourish and sustain thera : that this is not a fictitious or imaginary exhibition of our crucified Redeemer to us, but a real though spiritual one, more real, indeed, be- cause more effectual than the carnal exhibition and manducation of him could be, (for the flesh profiteth nothing.) In the same manner, then, as our Lord himself said, ' I am the true bread that came down from * heaven,' (not meaning thereby that ho was a lump of baked dough, or manna, but the true means of sustaining the true life of man, which is spiritual, not corporeal,) so, in the sacrament to the worthy receiver of the consecrated elements, though in their nature mere bread and wine, are yet given truly, really, and effectively, the crucified body and blood of Christ ; that body and blood which were the instruments of man's redemption, and upon which our spiritual life and strength solely depend. It is in this sense that the crucified Jesus is present in the sacrament of his supper, not in nor with the bread and wine, nor under (heir accidents, but in the souls of communicants ; not carnally, but effectually and faithfully, and therefore most really." *
This account of Dr. PhlUpotts contains the unquestionable doctrine of the church of England, and his explanation, as far as it extends, is masterly and clear, and is in ]3erfect agreement with the words of Cranmer,t who says that " althoun^h we do affirm (according to God's word) that Clirist is in all persons that truly believe in him, in such sort that with his flesh and blood he doth spiritually nourish them and feed them, and giveth them everlasting life, and doth assure them thereof, as well by the promise of Jiis word as by the sacramental bread and wine in his holy supper, which he did institute for the same purpose, yet we do not a little vary from the heinous errors of the Papists ; for they teach that Christ is in the bread and Xiiine :
• Phillpotti, p. 8.14.
t Crunmer's «* Defence of the True and Catholic Doctrine," Todd's Ed. pp. 103. 105.
188 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
but we say, according to the truth, that he is in them that •worthily eat and drink the bread and wine. They say, that the body of Christ that is in the sacrament hath his own proper form and quantity : we say, that Christ is there sacramentally and spiritu- ally, without form or quantity." But that nothing may be wanting for the full elucidation of the doctrine we maintain, we add the following passages from the same work of the same illustrious martyr, in explanation of the sense in which we are said to receive the body and blood of Christ : —
" Wherefore as here before in the first note is declared the hunger and drought of the soul, so is it now secondly to be noted what is the meat, drink, and food of the soul. The meat, drink, food, and re- freshing of the soul, is our Savioiir Christ, as he said himself — ' Come unto me all you that travail and be laden, and I will refresh you.' — ' And if any man be dry,' saith he, ' let him come to mc and drink. He that believeth in me, floods of w^ator of life shall flow out of his belly.' — * And I am the bread of life,' saith Christ, ' he that cometh to me shall not be hungry ; and he that believeth in mc shall never be dry.' For as meat and drink do comfort the hungry body, so doth the death of Christ's body, and the shedding of his blood, comfort the soul, when she is after her sort hungry. What thing is it that comforteth and nourisheth the body } Forsooth, meat and drink. Ry what names then, shall we call the body and blood of our Saviour Christ (which do comfort and nourish the hungry soul) but by the names of meat and drink ? And this similitude caused our Saviour to say, * My flesh is very meat, and my blood is very drink.' For there is no kind of meat that is comfortable to the soul, but only the death of Christ's blessed body; nor no kind of drink that can quench her thirst, but only the blood-shedding of our Saviour Christ, which was shed for her offences. For as there is a carnal generation, and a carnal feeding and nourish- ment, so is there also a spiritual generation, and a spiritual feeding. And as every man, by carnal generation of father and mother, is car- nally begotten and born unto tliis mortal life, so is every good christian spiritually born by Christ unto eternal life. And as every man is car- nally fed and nourished in his body by meat and drink, even so is every good christian man spiritually fed and nourished in his soul by the flesh and blood of our Saviour Christ. And as the body liveth by meat and drink, and thereby incrcaseth and groweth from a young babe unto a perfect man, (which thing experience teacheth us,) so the soul liveth by Christ himself, by pure failh eating his flesh and drinking his blood."*
And again: —
" Christ ordained the sacrament of his body and blood in bread and
* Crantner, p. 23.
Yiew oftlie Roman CaOvolic Doctrines. 129
wine, to preach unto us, tlmt as our bodies be fed, nourished, and pre- served with meat and drink, so (as touching our spiritual life towards God) we bo fed/ nourished, and preserved by the body and blood of our Saviour Christ ; and also that he is such a preservation unto us, that neither the devils of hell, nor eternal death, nor sin, can be able to prevail rgainst us, so long as by tme and constant faith we be fed and nourished with that meat' and drink. And for this cause Christ or- dained this sacrament in bread and wine, (which we eat and drink, and bo chief nutriments of our body,) to the intent that as surely as wo see the bread and wine with our eyes, smell them with our noses, toucli them with our hands, and taste them with our mouths; so assuredly ought we to believe, that Christ is our spiritual life and sustenance of our souls, like as the said bread and wine is the food and sustenance of our bodies. And no less ought we to doubt that our souls be fed and live by Christ, than that our bodies be fed and live by meat and drink. Thus our Saviour Christ knowing us to be in this world, as it were, but babes and weaklings in faith, hath ordained sensible signs and tokens, whereby to allure and draw us to more strength and more constant faith in him." *
These passages, we hope, will serve abundantly to explain the doctrine of the church of England, which may be said to consist in the four following particulars : —
1. The substances of bread and wine undergo no change.
2. After the consecration they have a mystical and sacramental application.
3. There is no real presence in the bread and wine.
4. There is a real presence in the soul of the faithful believer. Those who wish for more may consult the confessions of the
other martyrs of the Reformation, at the end of Mr. Todd's excellent edition of Cranmer's work. We take leave of this part of our subject in the admirable words of Cranmer : —
•' God grant that all contention set aside, both the parties may come to this holy communion with such a lively failh in Christ, and such an unfeigned love to all Christ's members, that as they carnally eat with their mouth this sacramental bread and drink the wine, so spiritually they may cat and drink the very flesh and blood of Christ, which is in heaven, and sittcth on the right hand of his Father. And that finally by his means they may enjoy with him the glory and kingdom of heaven. Amen."t
But there is another point connected with the eucharist, on which a few words, and only a few, shall be said. It relates to the adoration of the host. The Romanist, as we have stated, immediately after consecration, conceives the whole sub- stance of the bread and wine to be converted into the body and
• Cranmer, p. 2T. t Ibid. p. 18.
VOL. I. K
130 Fte^x) of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
blood of Christ— nothing but the figure and form of the bread and wine, the accidents, as they are termed, remain. The ques- tion is, whether he is guilty of idolatry in worshipping the Re- deemer, thus present to nis sight ? Now, in answer to this, we begin by observing, that we attach no importance to the argument de- rived from the circumstance that the accidents of the bread and wine are admitted to remain. The host, according to the
I)rinciples of the Roman Catholic, is altogether God — he be- ieves Jesus Christ to be supernaturally present, and he falls down and worships him. What then is idolatry ? Is it the act of him, who knowingly worships the creature, instead of the Creator ? or of him, who worships the creature instead of the Creator, whether knowingly or not ? If the latter, the act of the Roman Catholic is an act of idolatry' — if the former, not. Now, we agree with Dr. Phillpotts in thinking that hypocrisy and false opinion have nothing to do with the essence of idolatry — the act is idolatrous whedier the worshipper do it knowingly or not. But though it has nothing to do with the act itedf, yet it has much to do with the guilt of it — here the animUs of the worshipper comes in : and as we are little prepared to say that the heathen who worshipped sincerely in those times of igno- rance, which God winked at, was amenable for the full sin of idolatry; so neither will we venture to decide this of the sincere believer in transubstantiation.
Now, this distinction is all that is necessary for the declaration of die house of lords ; for the object of that declaration is not to anathematize the Romanists, but to ascertain the faith of the Protestant, and, unless he who takes the oath is a believer in transubstantiation, he must, necessarily, believe the act to be an act of idolatry, though he need not conclude that the believer in that doctrine is guilty of it. This is the explanation given of the subject by Jeremy Taylor, whom Dr. Phillpotts, by rather a strong figure, has brought into court,* and subjected to a severe cross-examination, which, however, he has carried through with great wit, and neatness, and success. We cannot help thinking that Lord Grenville's explanation of the declaration, of which Dr. Phillpotts speaks with some severity,*!* comes to the same thing. When Lord Grenville says that " the sacrifice of the mass would be idolatrous, if he were to join in it,'' he appears to us to include the animus of the worshipper in his definition.
Absolution, Penance, Confession, &c. — The doctrine of pardon upon repentance is, as wc believe, the peculiar and dis-
Phillpotts,p.252. t Ibid. p. 360.
"VWw^^rfKe Jtdmm i^amotlc Doctrines. ISi
tii^'giii^ning tenet of revealed religion: it is that doctrine which no arguments of philosophy could prove ; to wliich the highest exertions of human reason were necessarily unable to attain : it could only be established by the positive revelation of that gra- cious Being who had been offended, and to whom man was amenable for sin. In conformity with this opinion, the church of England has opened her admirable Liturgy with the declara- tion of these good tidings of salvation ; and considering that it would be useless and superfluous to Immble ourselves before heaven in prayer, unless we were well assured, that by virtue of the divine promises, our prayers would be accepted and our sins forgiven, she begins by addressing the congregation in the words of scripture, and proclaiming to them the solemn pledge of heavenly mercy. She believes, that when the wicKed man, repenting truly of his former sins, and steadfastly purposing to lead a new life, shall humble himself before God, in a firm reli- ance on his promises, such repentance shall, through the media- tion of his Saviour and the efficacy of his blood, be available to his salvation. She believes no other act, no other feeling requi- site; as repentance and faith were sufficient preparations for baptism and the Lord''s supper, so after baptism, she considers them sufficient, without any other sacrament, to restore the sin- ner to the favour of liis God. Whatever more of sacramental grace is necessary to his restoration, she considers to be supplied continually by tne second sacrament , and to this she exhorts all her members to have recourse, with the view of receiving a con- tinual and abundant communication of the divine grace. But the Romish church thinks differently ; and admittnig equally with ourselves the necessity of repentance, .she does not admit equally, or at least not in the same sense, the sufficiency of repentance, though conjoined with faith, for the restoration of the sinner who has fallen after baptism. She asserts, that God, in his mercy, has ordained another sacrament, — the sacrament of penance ;* which is to be, like the other sacrament, the instru- ment of grace and the seal of peace and pardon to the contrite soul. Now there is nothing in this, at first r.ight, either contrary to the principles of reason or to the analogy of faith ; and if it had pleased the Almighty to institute this sacrament, we should have received it with every feeling of piety and gratitude. But as we do not conceive it to be so ordained, we reject it as unwar- ranted in 'principle ; and as there is nothing on which the human mind is so willing to rely, — nothing which it is so prone to mis-
• Cone. Trid. Sess. xiv. cap. i. K ^
1S2' View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
apprehend, even as the real and undoubted sacraments of Cliris- tianity, we reject it also, if any additional reason be required, as very dangerous in effect. ' . - ii ! ; ,
Before we proceed to explain iHioire particularly 'the Romish sacrament of penance, it may be necessary to say a few words concerning the parts which in that church ai'e necessary to con- stitute a sacrament. The Romish definition of a sacrament, then, is the same as our own, — a visible sign of an invisible grace ;* but the visible sign is not, as with us, something single and undi- vided, material, tangible, and substantive, but is divided into two parts, — the form and the matter, according, they say, to the aphorism of Augustine : — " Accedit verbum ad eleraentum et fit sacramentum." In baptism., then, the water is the matter ; the words, " I baptize thee," the form ; in the eucharist, the bread and wine, the matter ; the words, " This is my body," the form ; in confirmation, the holy chrism, the matter ; the words, " I anoint thee,"" the form. In the other three sacraments of pe- nance, matrimony, and orders, this distinction is not so easy ; and in that which we are now considering, it was particularly difficult to assign any thing like matter belonging to this sacrament. The Council of Trent therefore decided, that the acts of the penitent should be called the matter, or rather something like the matter — quasi materia-]- — and the words, " I absolve thee," are, as in the other sacraments, the form. The absurdity of this decision is evident at once : the acts of the penitent cannot, by any possibility, be any part of a sacrament; and the council was, in fact, so involved in difficulty, by the admission of this absurdity, that it became necessary to state expressly what might otherwise have been mistaken, that the form\ of the sacrament in this case was the essential and principal part of it ; and that the sacrament of penance, as to its outward and visible sign, did in truth consist in the absolution of the priest.
The questions, then, and the answers, which might be proposed and given, according to the model of our catechism, would be these: What is the outward or visible sign or form in penance t Ans. I'he words with which the person is absolved, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. What is the inward and spiritual grace .?§ A reconcihation with God, and restoration to his
* Sfe tlie Catecbisna of Trent, p. 120. • ,, 1 1;.
t Sunt qunsi nuileria biijus Bacianienii ipsius Poenitanti^ aqtus, nempe Contiilio, nConfessio, Satislaclio. Cone. Tiid. Sess. xiv. cap.3. ,.■-,,,,, -M J Sacramenti Pcenitentiffi forma, in j'jmjwraryswe »p^j«WB^,SJto^*l[jiD illwiBinistri verbis iwsita est ; *' Ego absolvo te." Couc. Trid. ib.
^ Si quis dixerit Potiiiitenliam won esse vere et proprie Sacramentum pro fidelib^is reconciliandis, quoties post Baptismum in peccata labunlur, AnathemA :SJtjt Cone. Trid. Sess. xiv. Canon i. tuo'.Jul) .qnO t&av^ud Ms .If IV .oiiasH ?
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 133
favour. What is required of them who come to the sacrament of penance ? To examine themselves whether they repent them truly of their former sins ; * to confess their sins, whether of thought, word, or deed, particularly and individually to the priest; and to be ready to do euch acts of penance as shall be imposed on them by him.
We shall consider these several acts in the order in which they take place on occasion of theadministration of this sacrament. First, Contrition."!* By this is understood a sincere and hearty sorrow for sins done — a steadfast purpose of reformation, arising, not out of any worldly motive, nor out of dread of future punishment, or hope of future reward, but out of the simple and vmmixed love of God. This is contrition in its most perfect state; but even if the s'nner has this, it will not suffice for his reconciliation with God, without the sacrament, except in cases where the penitent has no opportunity of receiving it, and then he is restored to the divine favour, not from his penitence, but from ihe wish, I which is charitably supposed, that he would have received absolution, if he could. But, again, as this perfect contrition is very rare, an imperfect degree of it is admitted, which is called attrition, and the attrite penitent, on receiving the sacrament, is restored by it (always supposing satisfaction promised and done) to the favour of God, the sacrament, in this case, supplying the deficiency. Thus, the royal controversialist, in his book against Luther, " Quid dicit Lutherus ahud quam semiunt illi quos insectatur, qui dicunt, ex attritione, per sacrmnentuni ^vperveniarus, ftri oo?ii7'iiionem ; .mcramentum enim supplere^ quod deest hom'ini,'''' § So also the Council of Trent. Now, as M-e are hero only giving a statement of doctrine, we shall not insist upon the doubtful and dangerous nature of this attrition ; we will assume, without re- luctance, that the council meant to speak of that degree of repentance to which human nature, in its ordinary state of in- firmity, is able to attain,; but we. must pot forbear from laying
■ !>; , iiK, K) l'>i>i_>'ii -.li.M! ;, : . . : . , / .
, tti .ii-K.i Kt tl.^l^. -iKtlxl.- Ill /'..i.J^lil.. .^tit ..
' mT .)r<'\ •'-({); <1 :H>rin\ 'i(\ ;'.)lif'.V lijlif 'fh'iO •
' * Milner's End of Controversy, p. 80<. i I him *£Kirt! ^ ! t Cone. Trid. Sess. xiv. CBp. iv. -,...^ / - f Docet praeterea, etsi contritionem hnno aliquando chnritate perfectam esse con- linpfnt, hominenique Deo reconciliiire, prius qiiam hoc sacmtuentnm nclu siiJiclplntur, ipsHin nihiloniinus reconciliationcm ipsi contrhioiii sing Sacratnentivoto quod in ilia iiicludltiir, non esse ascribendam. lllani vf I'o pontrflionem impprfecfnm, qua& attritio diciitir, qiioniam vel ex tiirpitudinis peccnti con*;rdettitfonevelex Gehenr.w et pccnnrutH metu comniiiniterconcipitur si voliinfa»rm peccnndi cxdndnt qunmvis sine Sacra- mento PoenilentiiB per se ad juslifieationeni perdiicere peccatoreni neq»ieat,t«meneum nd Dei ^ntiam in Sacramento Pcenitentias impetrundam dlsponit. Cone. TrW. Sess. xiv. coj). iv. •
§ Henric. VIIT. ndv. Lntberum Cap. de CoDtritione. • ^"^ ifM.l' ;''.'
134 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
before our readers an instance of the use which is made of this distinction by a Romanist of no mean ability, whose object, in the passage we are about to quote, is to show that Popery is a safer way than Protestanism to salvation. " 'Tis well known," he, says, " that Protestants, to obtain salvation, believe in Christ, trust in his merits, and repent of their sins ; yet they do it not purely out of a perfect love of God. Now, according to our doctrine, such kind of repentance as this, is no sufficient remedy to blot out sins, unless it he joined with the sacrament of penance, viz. con* ; = fession, and priestly absolution, &c. whicli Protestants reject. I say, without the sacrament of penance, actually and duly received, all Catholics hold, that neither faith, nor hope, nor any repent- ance or sorrow for sin can save us, but only that which is joined with a perfect love of God, whereby we are disposed to lose all > and suffer all that can be imagined, rather than to offend God ; yea, though there were, indeed, neither heaven to reward us, nor hell to punish us ; which being a thing so hard to be found, especially among such as believe a man is justified by faith only, it follows evidently, that in our doctrine, very few or no Protest- ants are saved. The conclusion, therefore, is undeniable, that our church is a safer way to salvation than that of Protestants."* We take no notice of the insinuation which is here thrown out against the doctrine imputed to the Protestants, or of the claim of super-excellent principle put in for the Romanists ; but we take the opportunity of making a remark or two on the Romish tenet that " sacraments confer grace, ex opere operato." -f- Is it, or is it not true, that, according to the doctrine openly laid down by the council on this sacrament of penance, and maintained by its expositors, some deficiency or other (be that deficiency eversosmall) is supplied by the sacrament, ex opere operato, according to the common acceptation of the term ? Is it not true that the disposi- tions of the penitent are before imperfect, and that they are per- fected by the sacrament.'' We do not wish to go any farther — ix, we do not wish to charge "the Papists" (as Dr. Milner says thei<> Bishop of Lincoln has charged them in his Elements of Theology) a r with contending, " that the mere receivmg of the Lord's supper.cn merits the remission of sin, ex opere operato, as it were, mechani-iB ca\\y,ivhatevermay be the character or disposition of the corner, mimicants^'' This is a different assertion — different almost infi-^ nitely in degree from what we desire to express. Dr. Milner adds
• Laud's Labyrinth, p. 303.
t Sacramenta conferunt gratiam ex opere operalo. Cone. Trid. Sess. vii. Canon 8. '
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 1S$
that Dr. Hey, in his Lectures, repeats nearly the same words as the bishop ; but we must take leave to say that we very much doubt the assertion. Dr. Hey was a man of extraordinary candour and the most unparalleled fairness ; of very great ' learning and extreme simplicity of mind — independent of other men''s opinions beyond any author with whom we are acquainted —we have not his works before us — but we will almost pledge ourselves to our readers, that the assertion of Dr. Milner is not correct. Dr. Hey may have said, that such had been the doctrine that had been imputed to some of the schoolmen — for this is the open declaration of the divines of Germany, and ' delivered by them to their adversaries without any concealment^ •* subterfuge, or qualification. The confession of Augsburg'® condemns that opinion " qua fingit homines justos esse propter usum sacramentorum ex opere operato, et quidem sine bono motu utentium." So also the confession of Wirtemberg and''^ others. And what did the Council of Trent do ? Did it, in bold and explicit terms, deny the charge ? On the contrary, without saymg one word of the interpretation put by the Protestants on the opus operatum, it again affirmed that doctrine, and anathematized all who did not allow that the sacraments conferred grace ex opere operato. It was necessary, at least, for Dr. Hey to notice these opinions in his Lectures ; ' and this is what, in all probability, he has done.
The second act of the penitent is Confession ; by which is understood a secret confession into the car of the priest,* of every sin, whether conceived only in thought or matured into action. This confession is necessary to salvation, and, by the decree of the Council of Lateran, must be made by every' member of the church once a year. The Council of Trent decided this sacramental confession to be of divine institution — we say, decided it to be so ; for that this was already the received doctrme of the church is sufficiently clear from the treatise of Henry \III.-|- That illustrious monarch, however, at the time of his controversy, seems to have had some doubt about the ' ' matter, as he forsakes the precedents of scripture and councils,'*' and has recourse to arguments of another kind — some of theitf^'^' not without salt. It is impossible, he says, that auricular confession should be of human institution, as no mortal or set of mortals could have persuaded the whole of Christendom to make their brother mortals the depositaiies of their secret
• Cone. Trid. Sess. xlv. Canon 7 and 8. t Henric. VIII. adr. Luth. Confessione.
196 View of the Roman Catliolic Doctrines*
sins. — Secondly, unless it were of divine origin^ the sectecy of the priesthood could never be accounted for : Neqiie fieri potuit' '■■ ut presbyteri audita continerent, etiam hi qui nihil alias continenf^'' nisi Deus ipse, qui sacraraentuni instituit, rem tarn salubrem speciali gratia defenderet. The pugnacious monarch, even while he was defending the church and the priesthood, couldS » not refrain fi'om enjoying his sarcasm at the priest's expense, 'iifn
But we turn to graver matter. — In the book of devotion froihi^ which extracts have already been made, and which is particularly' recommended by Mr. Butler, the " Garden of the Soul," there are certain heads of examination for the purpose of those who are preparing themselves for confession. At one part of these ques- tions Dr. Phillpotts has expressed his disgust and detestation in strong, unmeasured terms,* but there is no language that he has used, or can use, in which we do not most cordially unite with him. What can be the ideas of female purity entertained by the individuals who compiled these heads, for the purpose of putting them into the hands of man, woman, and child, we are utterly un- able to determine. The coarseness of the male mind may bear a great deal : but even those, who have been brought up in our public schools and universities, in the army or navy, may have somediing to learn from this preparation for the confessional. We beseech the heads of the Romish church in this empire, by every thing that is pure and holy, to withdraw these questions from their book. Let them not make God's house of prayer a house of debauchery and profligacy. We are not afraid to prophesy, that if the present controversy should last another century, the Romanists, who are alive at that time, will cast from them with indignation the charge of ever having promul- gated this work — will treat it as a Protestant calumny, or, at least, declare it to be the unauthorized work of an individual for which they can, in no way, be made responsible. Little will posterity believe that this book was put forth in the 19th century, and the Protestants referred to it aa /'•the most popular prayer-book ^1 the English Catholics."t 'h''
But there is another very remarkable circumstance in -this ' confessional examination In Queen Mary's Primer there is also what is entitled *' A form of confession :" and the head, corre- sponding with that of which we have been speaking, occupied only Jive lines. In the *' Garden of the Soul"" it occupies 53 — some- thing more than ten times as much. To what is this increase of confessional severity to be attributed.? The reason is eyident^J
• Philpotis, p.999. .' ci:j7JriJ9o*'*<*f t^** Ronoaa Catholic Rburcb, p. 10.
View of the Roman Cathol^h Doctrines. iSf ^
External and public circumstances having contributed to diminish the power and influence of the Romish priesthood, the internal and private instruments have lieen proportionally increased. To confession and confession only (we say it boldly) is to be attri- buted that overbearing and tremendous influence of the Romish clergy in Ireland over their flocks, which Dr. Doyle so unblush- ingly and, in a manner, triumphantly avowed-^-an influence sufficient to make every menil>er of either house, who heard him without prejudice, tremble with astonishment. i til ''
The third act in order, is the Absolution t)f the Priest, of which having already said a good dad, we shall only observe, in addition, that it is a judicial act, inquiring into the sins and crimes of the penitent, inflicting punishment, &c.-*-Nor shall we waste any paper in refuting the cnarges brought by Dr. Milfter, Dr. Doyle, and Mr. Butler against the Lutheran churches,* as if they maintained the Romish tenet of absolution — assertions, as every one may see in the works of Rellamiine and all the con- fessions of the German churches, only to l>e smiled at for their absurdity. There was no tenet more decried by Luther and all his coadjutors than the doctrine of Absolution, as it was held ' and enforced by the church of Romoiti> i ./iitu hnn f^loofhj^ >iUljji-f
But here, by some strange fatality, the reribwned' artd' tiftlViW*- tal Chillingworth (as ho is called by these gentlemen, sneeringi}', as if the cit^umstance of his not having been catloni'Zed by the Pope would prevent the immortality of his renown) is brought in aid of the <loctrines of Popery. In a sermon, which is the seventh affixed to his great work, lie had culled on his congrega- tion, in case they found themselves charged and oppressed, Vo come to their spiritual physician, and to come to him, not only ' as to a learned man, but '* as to one that hath authority dele- gated from God to him, to absolve and actpiit them of their sins."' Chillingworth's sermon was preached evidently about the year 1643 ; and the passage in question was inserted, merely for the purpose of opposmg those self-appointed ministers, who were then so active throughout the kingdom. In opposition to them', he asserts the superior authority of the episcopal minister, atid refers to his commission as the warrant of that superiority. But if Mr. Butler and his master (for this quotation, like all the other doctrinal quotations of Mr. B., belongs to the vicar apost.} wish to know Chillingworth ""s sentiments on the absolution of the church of Rome, we refer him, with pleasure, to the fol- lowing passage. Speaking of the intention of the minister being
]Pook of the Roman CatMIc Chtirob. p. I0». ''^*? *
W(f'^ View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines^'^^
necessary to the sacrament, and demonstrating, at very great length, the absurdities consequent on such a principle, and envi- merating the agonies, which might arise in the mind of the dying penitent, from his doubt whether the priest really intended to absolve him or not, he advises the priest to quiet the fears of the afflicted person, by telling him that his doubts are unnecessary, for that all these defects will be supplied by the mercy of God. " But this," he says, " I fear, you will never say : for this were to reverse many doctrines established by your church, and, be- sides, to degrade your priesthood from a great part of their honour^ hy lessening the strict necessity of their laity'^s de- pendence upon them. For it were to say, that the pries fs inten- tion is not necessary to the obtaining of absolution, which is to say, that it is not in the parson's power to damn all he would in his parish.'^''* So much for Chillingworth, and we beseech the good gentlemen, who have drawn this quotation from us, to make the most of him.
The last point to be spoken of, is Satisfaction, of which we will only observe, that it is imposed after the absolution, the absolu-* tion being in this respect conditional; and that it consists of acts of penance imposed by the priest — acts which, assuredly, at the time of the Reformation, and long after it, were, beyond description, ludicrous, futile, and unholy ; but we are not suffix ciently acquainted with the present practice of the Reunan Catho^ lies of this empire on this particular, to think ourselves justified in saying more.
These, then, are the leading principles of the Romanists on the sacrament of penance ; and if we have been able to make ourselves understood, our readers will have no difficulty in esti- >a mating, at its proper value, the following portion of Dr. Doyle's examination, t
'Jl-r
"What is the doctrine pf;,, the, Roman Catholic church respecting 1^9 absolution ? J>is. The doctrine of the Roman Catholic church respecting r,3 absolution, is precisely the sa7ne as that of the established church in this kingdom ; so much so, that the words of absolution which we use, are precisely those put down in the Visitation of the Sick in theComnion Prayer Book, to be used by a clergyman of the established church, when he vjsits a person who wishes to confess his sins,
•• Is there any difference between the doctrine of the Catholic church and that of the Protestant church, with respect to absolution > Ans. I really know of none : lam sure the established church requires, r,^
• Chillingworth, Rel of Prot. Part i. c. ii. Sect. 68. '1;
|. JEvJden^e 00 the State pf Ireland, p, 342, ^ n- - '^
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrinesi 1S9
Bs we do, that the person making a confession of his sin be sorry and contrite for it ; the words of tlie absolution are precisely those which we use— 50 1 see no difference betioeen the ow and tJie other."
Now we desire to ask Dr. Doyle the following questions : —
Did he know that there were seven sacraments in his church ?
Did he know that penance was one of these ?
Did he know that the absolution in his church was sacrai mental absolution, and reconciled the penitent to the favour of his God?
Did he know that there were only two sacraments in our'^* church, and that penance was not one of these ?
Now we do not put these questions to Dr. Doyle as a learned man, for it is clear that he is not so ; but we put them to him as the veriest catechumen in the church : and we ask him, whether t is possible that he could be ignorant of these things ; and if ^ lot ignorant of them, whether he could really declare upon his *? lath, that the absolution of the church of England was pr^^' wisely the same as that of the church of Rome?
Having put these plain questions to him, we now beg to submit ; I few more, which require a greater degree of knowledge cer- ' ainly ; but only such as every one must have, av ho is tolerably ^'' acquainted Avith the decrees of the Council of Trent. ' !
Did he know then that all persons were anathematized by th^ *',' ( anons of that council, who said, , ' ^'"J
" ]. That penance is not a sacrament instituted by Christ for the '' 1 3Conciliation of sinners after baptism. — -Canon 1.
"2. That sacramental confcssioij is not^necessary, and that auricular- '^f') ( onfession is of liuman origin. — Canon 0. siro
" 3. That it is not necessary to confess all mortal sins, or secret ^in^u' c r their circumstances. — Canon 7. f. / iriic ■
** 4. That such confession is not possible ; and the annual confession € ijoined by the Council of Lateran, i? not obligatory on the faithful
( anon 8.
Ja
" 5. That sacramental absolution is not a judicial act, but simply a' "^ t eclaration made by the priest to the penitent. — Canon 9. ''
"0. That there are no cases of absolution in private penance re-'' »f irved to bishops. — Canon 11.
" 7. That all tlie punishment is remitted at the same time as the p a.— Canon 12. •'-'
" 8. Tliat satisfactions do not honour God, fcliC^e merely human ti iditions." ^^^
If Dr. Doyle did not know these things, which are written J ainly in the canons of the Council of Trent, we desire to ask, /f hether he was a fit person to give his evidence before the two
f iO VieW'Sftfie 'J^ffikdn Catholic Ddctrittesl
houses of legislature, either concerning the doctrines of the church of England or the church of Rome ? If Joe did know them, — but we leave the conclusion to our readers.
Be it known, then, to all Homish prelates, English and Irish legislators, and others/j^ "^-^ ..'i-"i^ii/- .iCiio
" 1. That the church of England does not admit sacramental abso- lution in any sense whatever.
"2. That she rejects auricular confession altogether.
"3. That she does not,tjl?ir^k,,^i^j..9,bsp^i|tion of any sort or kind jiecessary to the penitent. /,,•,. ,, ^ ,.. ^^ ,,| ,. ,.i i
" 4. That when she adji»mist6rs" it, she doeS it only at the desire of the penitent. ^^ " |l'
" 5. That she does not conceive absolution capable of retjoncillng the penitent to the favour of God. ' " '^ "'"
" 6. That she does think that her absolution may, in some cases, give quiet and consolation to the troubled conscience; but that if the penitent is calm and free from trouble, she thinks it needless — her doc- trine being in common witli the rest of the reformed churches, ' Crede te absolutum, et absolutus es.'
" 7. That the meaning of the words used in her form of absolution is simply this : — ' You have declared to me your sincere penitence ; you have expressed your belief in all the doctrines of Christianity in which I have examined you ; you have humbled yourself before God by the confession of your sins; and now I pray to our Lord Jesus Christ, who has left power to his church to absolve all sinners, who truly repent and believe in him, to forgive thee thine offences ; and as you have humbly and heartily desired it, I exercise the authority com- j^nitted to me in absolving you from your sins. Do not misunderstand ■^e by supposing that by this act I can reconcile you to God : I do it only for the purpose of exciting your faith, and of conveying cOrnfort to your soul by the faithful ministry of God's word.' " ' ' '■'
Ui?We should have been anxious to explain the reasons why this
form of absolution, Avhich is now become obsolete, was originally
retained by the church of England ; — but the length to which
'this article has already run prevents us from doing this. We
iftiay, perhaps, have an Gj^)ortunity, hereafter, of returniBg.to
^Dp. Doyle. :lJif() hjnbf^no-) 'kI ■;[ ; ' .-■/ ,'(iiiri;'.rff.(iinm<i ■
oJ Having SO long agreed in opinion with Dr. Phillpotts, we
^J^te sorry now to differ from him on the only point on
which he agrees with his opponents. Dr. Milner, in his
" End of Controversy ,"■* * had observed in a note, that the
church of England, to encourage tfie secret confession of sins,
■ nwiiii'^i 1 "j '.v.
', • P. 297. S^enlso Book of Roman Catholic Church, p. 108;' t^'^'-ii^^'
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 141
has made a canon, requiring her ministers not to reveal the same." Mr. Butler, according to liis custom, has copied this note verbatim— and Dr. Phillpotts, to our astonishment, has observed " it is most true,*" and ha?, not said one word in refuta- tion of tlie charge of Dr. Milner. On the contrary, he agrees with him altogether. We conceive it our duty, therefore, to say a few words for the purpose of rectifying what appears to us a very great mistake. The church of England, then, has, assur- edly, made no canon *'for ike purpose of cjicourag'in^ secret confession!''* She has only assumed that some confidential inter- course would take place between a minister and his parishioners, and has forbidden, except under particular circumstances, that si^ch intercourse should be revealed. But even this prohibition is not found in any canon made for that purpose, but in the body of a canon with an entirely different, and almost contrary, object: The title of the 113th canon is this, — " Ministers may present;" and its object is as follows: — It had been enjoined in the 109th canon on churchwardens and questmen, that they should present in the ecclesiastical courts all persons in their parish, who should otfend their brethren by notorious crimes and scan- dals ; but as it was found by exp^ence, that churchwardens, either through fear of their superiors, or negligence, absta'med from performing the duty thus im^wsed on them ; it was farther ordered by the 113th canon, that all parsons, vicars, and curates might present to their ordinaries, whenever they thouglit fit, " all such crimes as they have in charge, or otherwise, as by them (being the persons that should have the chief care for the suppressing of sin and impietij in their parishes) shall he tlumght to require due reformation." Now a canon of this kind, enjoining every minister to present to his ordinary all moral and social irregularities might, not unnaturally, create a doubt in some minds, whether confidential communications of sin ought not also to be presented. And the framers of the canon, foreseeing this difficulty, have added a " provided always," stating that the canon does not include such cases, and forbidding the minister to disclose any such confidential communications. Now, let it be considered that the former 3anon alluded, not only to crimes against society, but to ■ 5ins, such as fornication, &c. which were all presentable in the cclesiastical courts — and, when the minister became acquainted vith these sins, &c. in the course of liis ministry, if the canon 'Xtended to these cases, what would have been the consequence ? [t is true, however, that the " proviso" forbids him, not only to present or to make known to any person the sins of his parish- oners, but charges him also, and admonishes him, " not to reveal
^WkS, View of the Roman GatkoUc Doctrines.
or make kno\yn to any person any crime or offence com- mitted to his tmst and secrecy {except they be such crimes, as by the laws of this realm Ms own life may be called into question for concealing the same) under pain of irregularity." Now we cannot but think it extraordinary that this exception should altogether have escaped the notice of our author: for it involves in it a very important principle, and would have prevented him from writing the sentence,* " that he trusts there are few ministers who under any circumstances or by the threat of any earthly punish- ment could be induced to publish what was confided to them under that sacred seal." The church of England does not expose her ministers to any such trial — if he is acquainted with any act, either before or after its commission, which brings bis life into danger, he is at perfect liberty to reveal it; and if not, he is amenable to the whole penalty of the law. The only case which strikes us as possible to arise in the ordinary course of ministerial duty, is this: a person has committed a murder, perhaps some years before — on his death-bed, or from a change of habits and of feelings, or from the common action of natural remorse, he is anxious to unburden his conscience, and applies to the minister for spiritual consolation. What is the minister to do under these circumstances? We conceive, then, in the first place — that it is the duty of every minister of the church of England to be very careful how he receives any such con- fession. Secondly, we hold him especially bound to adhere to the best practice of the Romish church, and not to admit the mention of any name whatever, besides that of the criminal himself. Thirdly, if the clergyman should receive such confession, we think the canon imposes on him the duty of secrecy — always supposing the communication made to him for the purposes recited in the canon. Fourthly, if he should unfortunately be called in evidence, which though possible is very improbable, we think that the courts of law should extend that protection to a clergyman which it extends to the confidential intercourse that takes place in other professions ; but, if they will not do this, we do not wish any law to be made for the purpose of protecting him. We do not hold it to b^ the doctrine of the church of England to encourage confessions and disclosures of this nature : we are to awaken the consciences of those who are placed under our care: to declare to them the word of God, and to leave to them, without casuistry, to settle these matters, as much as may be, for themselves — to prevent them from suffering under that troubled conscience, which alone warrants a minister of our church in
• PliHlpotts, p. 21 T,
View o^the Roman Catholic Doctrines. 148
receiving any confession of the kind. Let the minister only teach his parishioners the necessity of sincere and hearty rejDentance — let him assure them that God will not despise tne broken and contrite spirit — and he will have little need of bearing any special confession of sins that have been committed.
We have taken no notice of sins confessed before they are committed — for we hold it a solecism in religion, that any person making such a confession should go on to do the deed which he confessed to his minister, only " for the purpose of disburdening his conscience and receiving spiritual consolation." But should such a circumstance ever occur in the church of England, we hold it the imperative duty of every clergyman, if he cannot prevent the crime, to make it known instantly to the proper authorities. There is, evidently, no repentance in this case — the canon has nothing to do with it — and any other interpretation would again lay us open to all the horrible evils of auricular confession.
PuRGATOEY.— Indulgexces. — On these doctrines we shall say very little — we reject the former l)ecause we conceive that no hint or intimation of it is to be found in any of the books of scripture which we esteem canonical, and farther we consider it to have given rise to all the evils of private masses and the corrwptions which resulted from them. We reject the second, not only because they are altogether imwarranted by any word of holy writ, and contrary to every principle of reason, but because we conceive the foundations on which they rest to be, in the highest degree, blasphemous and absurd. These princi- ples arc : 1 . That the power of the Pope, great as it is, does not properly extend beyond the limits of this present world.* 2. That the power which he possesses of releasmg souls from purgatory arises out of the treasure committed to his care — a treasure consisting of the supererogatory merits of our blessed Saviour, the Virgin, and the saints.-j- One drop, they say, of the lledeemer'*s blood, Avould have sufficed for the redemption of the world — if he shed so much more than was required, what is to be done with the excess J The saints did much more than was required of them — what advantage is derived also from this superfluity of merits and good works P The whole
• Idclrco dicuntur indulgentia; concedi defunctis per modmn sufiragii, non per mo- dum tibsolutiouis; non enim potest Pontilex absolvere defunctos a poenis, quomodb absolvit vwentes, quia Hit non sunt ei subjecti, isti sunt : potest tumen, tanquam summus (lispensator Thesauri Ecclesise communicare illis bona operae poenalia, quffi in thesauro sunt. Bellarm. de Purgatorio, lib. ii. cap. xvi. —
t See the Bull of Clem. VI. quoted by Dr. Pbillpotts.
144 View of the Roman Catholic Doctrines.
is to be applied by the Pope to the dchverance of souls out of purgatory, and from those temporal punishments of this life, which remain according to the doctrine of the Romish church, after the forgiveness of the sin. This is the treasure of which Pope Leo, in his Bull of the present year, 1825, speaks in the following terms : — " We have resolved, in virtue of the autho- rity given to us by heaven, fully to unlock that sacred treasure, composed of the merits, sufferings, a7id virtues of Christ our Lord and of his virgin Mother, and of all the saints, which the author of human salvation has intrusted to our dispensation." We refer our readers for farther particulars on so extraordinary a topic to Dr. Phillpotts,* and the evidence of the Romish prelates be- fore the two houses ; only adding, that the fullest information on the whole subject of indulgences is to be derived from the Corpus Juris Canonici, vol. iii. Extravag. Commun. p. 349. We dare not trust ourselves to say more upon a subject on which Mr. Butler-j- flatter? himself that " when we see the doctrine of the Roman Catholics divested of the misrepresentations, which have too often heen made of them, and are yet too often repeated, we shall find nothing in it contrary to common sense, or prejudi- cial to the interests of religion and morality."
Faith with Heretics. — It is so far from our intention to write any thing which may tend to irritate, that we would willingly have avoided the present topic, and have admitted without re- luctance that the French and English Romanists of the present day do not hold the principle that " faith is not to be kept with heretics." But when we are challenged to produce any authentic documents of the church of Rome, in proof of this opinion ever having heen maintained ; when Dr. Doyle, with unparalleled bold- ness, rejects the idea with indignation, and declares that it is a tenet " too blasphemous to be contemplated," it becomes neces- sary to say something, lest we should seem to submit too hum- bly, and too consciously, to this twofold imputation of ignorance and calumny. ;
Of the light, then, in which heretics are to be regarded, we may form a sufficient judgment from the following passage, which Dr. Phillpotts has quoted from the Catechism of Trent, trans- lated (as he observes in a note) into English, hy permission, Dublin, 1816. " Heretics and schismatics do not belong to the church, any more than vagabonds or renegadoes belong to an army from which they ran away. Yet it is not to be denied, but
• P. 158. See also Evidence on the State of Ireland, pp. 354, 418, 439. t Book of the Roman Catholic Church, p. 110.
View of the Roman Catholic Doctrirui. 145
that they are in the power of the church, as those who may be judged by her, and condemned with an anathema." There can be no question, then, that the ancient principle of the Romish church, "Omnis hereticus est excommunicatus,"* is still retained by the Roman Catholics of Ireland. Let us look, then, to the decrees of the church concerning persons excommunicated ; and if it shall appear from these decrees, that faith is not to be kept with the excommunicated^ it will follow, afortiori^ that it is not to be kept with the heretic — a fortiori, we say ; for the difference between a heretic and an excommunicate, is enormously in dis- favour of the former — so much so,-f- that although an excommu- nicated person may not be admitted in a court of justice, as evidence against any member of the church, though neither his word or his oath are to be believed in such cases,| yet against a heretic he may make common cause with the church, and his evi- dence is admissible and valid. We assert then, boldly, and without qualification, that it was the avowed doctrine of the church of Rome, that faith is not to he kept zoith those who have been ex- communicated^ that it was maintained and expounded by their canonists, and acted on in their courts of law. In proof of this assertion, we adduce the following canon : " Nos, sancto- rum praedecessorum nostrorum statuta tenentes, eos, qui excom- municatis fidelitatc aut sacramento constricti sunt, apostolica auc- toritatc a sacramento absolvimus : et ne eis fidelitatem observent, omnibus modis prohibemus.""§ In English, " We, maintaining the statutes of our hoty predecessors, do, by our apostolic au- thority, absolve from their oath all zvho are bound either hi/ oath or j^fomise to persons excommunicated ; and prohibit them^ in every way, from keeping faith with such persons.'''' Now, mark the note of the commentator on this canon . " A question," he says, " may here arise as to the payment of debts — whether, if I have promised to pay a sum of money to a person on a certain day, and he, in the mean time, is excommunicated, I am bound to pay him or not .^" It should seem, he says, that I am not bound. — First, Because it is our duty to vex the wicked in every way we can : — Secondly, Because my oath must be
• See Council of Lateran 4, cap. iii. De Hsereticis, cap. Excommnnicamus.
t Nullum HnattierrmtiziitODim siiscipiatiir, nee a quoqutim credanfur qiiee ah iis di- cuntur vel comcribunfur . Eosdico iinullietnatizatos esse, quos episcopi stiis scriptis iinatbematizuverunt, aut eoruni statuta unutliematizant. 3. q. 5. DuUus. And ia the next chapter, " Ornnes, qnos sanctorum Patrum statuta tarn prmterilis quain fut*'ri« temporibus annthematizaiit, submovemus,ot al) omni accusatione fldeliiim nlicnamas."
\ In fid«i favorem eoncedimus, ut in negotio Inquisitionis ha;reficfp pravitatis r,x- communicati ad testimonium admittantur. De hajret. in 6. cni*. in fidei.
§ Corp. Jur. Cuu. 15. q. 6, VOL. I, I,
140 Viem of the Roman Catholic Doctrines,
understood to have been taken on the supposition of all things remaining in the same state. Thirdly, Because we are to hold no communication of any kind with the excommunicate — with various other reasons. On the whole, however, he is inclined to think that money contracts are obligatory, although the excom- municated person has no right to sue for his debt ; and he con- cludes his note with these words, that " although excommunicar- tion releases all obligations of promise, yet other contracts may,
!)ossibly, be binding." Will it be said that this canon is obso- ete ? No such claim can be put in by those, who refer us to the decrees and catechism of the Council of Trent : for the Corpus Juris Canonici, from which the canon is extracted, was compiled subsequently to both those documents, having been emended and restored, by order of Gregory XIII., in conformity with the de- cisions of the Council of Trent. This Pope, the successor of Pius V. in the year 1583, ratified the catechism, and so highly approved of the doctrines contained in it, that he gave the order just mentioned, /or the new edition of the canon law, atid par- ticularly enjoined, that every thing should be left out which had been abrogated, either by the Popes, the Council of Trent, or the Roman catechism. This canon law he put forth himself, and for the use (as he says in his preface) of the Catholics on both sides of the mountains* " Gregorius XIII., Pij. V., suc- cessor ; Francisco Gratiano de Gazatoribus Jurisconsulto, et Ca- nonico Vicentino suasit, ut juris Canonici epitomen ederent, in qua, quicquid vel a summis Pontificibus, vel a Concilio Triden- tino, vel a Catechismo Romano fuerat abrogatum, resecarent." It is difficult, surely, to reject the authority of a work of this kind, in proof of the tenets maintained at the time of its publication by the courts of Rome, and if its authority be admitted, it does not seem possible to deny, that a heretic was in a very tickUsh situation, who was once within the precincts of that court.
We will say only a few words of the case of John Huss. The Emperor Sigismund, in the year 1414, gave John Huss, accused of heresy, a safe-conduct to Constance, in virtue of which he presented himself before the council; the council refused to acknowledge the safe-conduct as applicable to the case, — they tried, excommunicated, and degraded him, and then handed him over to the secular power. Sigismund ordered him to be burnt. The question is, was the council or Sigismund guilty of a breach of faith, and, if so, on what principle ? It has, of late, been
Pnefatio ad Catechism Rom.
Fierv of the Roman Catholic Doctrines, J4f
maintained that the council was not guilty ; because, according to the principles of those times, the ecclesiastical being, confessedly, superior to the secular power, the emperor had no right to grant a safe-conduct to the council. Be it so : then the council was not guilty, but Sigismund was ; for, after the council had degraded him, it had done its office ; and the violation of promise must be ascribed altogether to the emperor, who, in defiance of that kind appeal to mercy, which was always made by the church,* when it had handed over a criminal to the secular armi ordered Huss to be burnt. But be this as it may, it was not on this principle that the act of the council was defended by the Romans ists about the time of the Reformation. The defence that was thea made, went on the ground that the passport was only a common passport, which is always understood to be granted salva juMitid ; that is, if a person obtains a passport for travelling through France, this passport does not prevent his being tried, condemned, and executed for any murder he may commit. So said the Council to Huss : " Yours is only a general passport ; there is no exception or saving clause which can prevent you from being tried for heresy." The argument in this case is evidently a gross quibble, for the act of heresy had been committed before the safe-conduct was granted ; and it was granted with especial reference to this act and no other. Su})posing, however, the council to have violated faith on any principle, we, as Protestants, not holding the infallibility of councils in action at least, should not be inclined to argue, that, because one set of men acted in this way, this was the established principle and practice of the church of Rome. Let her own cliildren look to that. We consider it of much greater consequence to determine whether the council of Constance did not, by a positive decree, enact, that " faith is not to be kept with heretics." The Romanists deny this, because it is not to be found in the published acts of that council. But there seems very little doubt of the fact. Mr. Van der Hardt found this decree in the MS. of the council at Vienna, and published it in his Collection of the Acts of the Council of Constance. The fact has never been denied, nor can the only conclusion to be drawn from it ever be overthrown ; and the words of Simancha,"}- so frequently alleged, no doubt rested on this decree.
• See the Pontificale Romaniim in the ceremony of degradation.
t Ad hnerelicorum istornm, (speaking of the Lutiieriins,) poenam et odium etiam pertinet, quod_^rfe» illis data servmuhi non sit, non obstante juramento : Nam si non est servanda tyrannis, piraiis, et aliis latronibus, qui occidunt corpus, muU6 minils •hsereticis, qui occidunt animas. Cum hmreticis nullum commercium, nee pax ulluesse potest— ideoque fides illis data, etiam juramento iirmata, couka bonum publicum, coo«
L %
14^ View of the Roman Catholic Doctrine^.
In conclusion, we observe once more, that, in what we have said on this part of our subject, we have not the most remote intention of bringing any insinuation against the Roman Catho- lics of France, England, or Ireland. — We acquit them of all such principles — we repeat that every word that we have written, has been written in our own defence — and for the purpose of showing, that charges of this kind are not to be whistled away as horrible imputations, as Protestant calumnies, or to be treated as doc- trines which never prevailed in the court of Rome. We do not assert that they were even Articles of Faith ; nor, to say the truth, do we care whether they were or not : it appears to us to signify very little, if a person be committed to the flames, whether he is burned on an article of faith or a principle of law.
But we must now bring this article to a close. There are many other topics on which we should have wished to speak ; but, for the present, we must be silent ; and we hope that we have kept the pledge which we gave at the beginning of this article, of refraining from all discourteous expressions, and from every thing that might tend to excite any feeling of irritation. We have explained with what clearness we could, some of the leading tenets of the Roman Catholics, and have assigned our reasons for rejecting them. — But we have brought no charge against those individuals of. this empire, who adhere to their ancient faith ; Ave have not willingly imputed to them any tenets they disclaim, or accused them, in any way, of insincerity, dishonesty, or disguise. Our full belief is, that the Roman Catholics of the United Kingdom, from their long residence among Protestants, their disuse of processions and other Romish ceremonies, have been brought gradually, and almost unknowingly, to a more spiritual religion and a purer faitli — that they themselves see with sorrow the disgraceful tenets and principles that were pro- fessed and carried into practice by their forefathers — and are too fond of removing this disgrace from them by denying tlie former existence of these tenets, and ascribing the imputation of them to the calumnies of the Protestants. This we cannot allow ; and while we cherish the hope that tliey are now gone for ever, we still assert boldly and fearlessly that they did once exist.
But, while we allow a great degree of improvement to have taken place both in the principles and practices of the Romanists, there is still enough, and more than enough, left in the doctrines
trk salutem animarum, contra jusdivinum et humaDum nuUo modo servanda est. Saepe id a nobis dictum; necesse est, tamen, incessabiliter iterari, et famdin non tacere, quaiudi pacis iliud obtenditur. Simuucba de Cathol. Instit. cap. 462, u. 62,
./Scotch Novels. 149
of that religion as they are acknowledged and professed to con- firm every declaration against them which is contained in the Articles of the Church of England — and to those declarations we adhere firmly and invariably, without restriction, qualification, er disguise. > -m nxdi hfo 1,1, . .,\i •.,.'» iw,
A'R^^.Vfil.— SCOTCH NOVELS.— 1. Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, a Selection froih the Papers of the late Arthur Austin, 1822.
^!—The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay. By the Author of " " Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life,'* 1823.
^.—The Foi-esters. By the Author of « The Trials of Mar- garet Lyndsay," and the " Lights and Shadows of Scottbh Life," 1825.
The brilliant example of the Great Unknown has rmsed such a host of Scottish romancers, that the critics Imve been fairly thrown out in the chase. Nevertheless, the popularity and im- portance of these writers is such, that, though we cannot pretend to keep them always in view, it is our duty as the chroniclers and censors of literature, every now and then to select a victim ; and here we have overtaken a gentleman who stands accountable for three closely printed octavos. His pretensions are consider- able, his merits and success not inconsiderable, and he dedicates to Sir Walter Scott ; yet we are bound to declare that, if indeed of the Waverley blood, he is but a cousin very many times removed. His tales are mere poetical visions, and ouglit to have been in rhyme, for there is nothing of pilose about them either in the thoughts or diction. The restraints of metre would have retrenched many unj)leasing superfluities of ornament which now encumber his style, and he might have successfully rivalled the pathetic stories of Barry Cornwall. — He seems, however, to have a higher aim than merely to please as a poet ; for, though he does not explain his design by preface or advertisement, yet the title of his first work and the subject-mattcf of them all profess to exhibit traits of national character, a very difficult task to execute well at any time, but undertaken under peculiar disad- vantage when the authors of " Waverlipy " and the " Annals of the Parish" have both exhausted their varied powers upon Scot- tish subjects. ^ .^_i^ .
However, we should be sorry to condemn any one for following ^uch high examples — and all who have read Dr. Currie's elegant dissertation, prefixed to his *' Life of Burns," must be grateful to
160 Scotch Novels.
every Scottish writer who introduces us to a more familiar acquaintance with " his country's high-soul'd peasantry." But we are afraid that our present author is not one of those from whom we may look for any addition to our knowledge of living manners. He paints the romance of life, and not the reality. He seems to be a man of warm feelings, and some eloquence, but either he has never studied Jiving men, or he has not the heart to represent them as they are. In the warmth of his imagination he wings his way back to the golden age, shuts his eyes upon sad reality, and transforms the Land of Cakes into an Arcadian Vale. It has always been the privilege of poets to deck out their imaginary creations in imaginary colours, and every student of epic song knows that when he opens his books he retires from the world. But the philosophic novelist, who professes to por- tray human and national manners, should awaken from the dreams of poetry. We are aware that nothing is more difficult for an ordinary writer, than to impart novelty and interest to the real affairs of men, — and if our author had merely pubHshed his sketches as imaginary studies, without pretending to have drawn them from nature, we should have dismissed him without censure as an elegant trifler. But since half the unhappiness of human life arises from disappointed hope, it is the duty of sober critics, to warn young ladies and gentlemen against those seductive romancers, who represent this world as the abode of good and happy beings.
In the hands of our author Scotland is a land flowing with milk and honey, a very garden of Eden before the fall ; and Scottish life is charmingly bright and virtuous, with a very shght sprinkling of sin and sorrow. The women are all " beau- tiful as the houries, and as wise as Zobeide,'' — uniformly re- markable for golden tresses, beaming eyes, ivory teeth, and irre- sistible smiles. Even the shepherdesses have snowy arms, and rose and lily complexions ; and what is more important still, their love affairs are in general both judicious and happy. The climate is that of Paradise before Milton's angel pushed aside the axis of the earth. The summer sun warms without scorching by day, and the moon
*' Pours all the Arabian heaven upon their nights."
The winters are exceedingly mild and genial, save occasionally a picturesque storm, to afford amorous and heroic shepherds an opportunity of rescuing lovely shepherdesses from the snow. Such is the world beyond the Tweed ; and if Rasselas had only found his way thither, he would never have returned to Abyssinia.
Scotch Novels. 161
The '^ Lights and Shadows" consist of twenty-four pastoral stories or sketches, after the manner of Geoffry Crayon, but far below him in every quality of merit. There is no variety, no humour, no nice discrimination of character. The author draws entirely upon his fancy. He borrows no aid from history or tradition, or even from the legendary lore of a land of poetical superstitions. He never refers to books, or real men, dead or living ; but he dreams a dream, and straightway commits it to paper in language flowery as the meadows of May, and sweet as murmuring zephyrs.
" The country all around rang with tho beauty of Amy Gordon ; and although it was not known who first bestowed upon her the appel- lation, yet now she bore no other than the Lily of Liddesdale. She was the only child of a shepherd, and herself a shepherdess. Never had she been out of the valley in which she was born ; but many had come from the neighbouring districts just to look upon her as she rested with her flock on the hill-side, as she issued smiling from her father's door, or sat in her serener loveliness in (he kirk on sabbath-day. Sometimes there are living beings in nature as beautiful as in romance; reality surpasses imagination ; and we soo breathing, brightening, and moving before our eye-sights dearer to our hearts than any we ever beheld in the land of sleep.
" It Was thus that all felt who looked on the Lily of Liddesdale. She had grown up under the dews, and breath, and light of heaven, among the solitary hills ; and now that she had attained to perfect woman- hood, nature rejoiced in the beauty that gladdened the stillness of these undisturbed glens. Why should this one maiden have been created lovelier than all others } In what did her surpassing loveliness consist ? None could tell ; for had the most imaginative poet described the maiden, something that floated around her, an air of felt but un- speakable grace and lustre, would have been wanting in his pic- ture. Her face was pale, yet tinged with such a faint and leaf-like crimson, that though she well deserved the name of the Ijily, yet she was at times like unto tho rose. When asleep, or in silent thought, she was the fairest of the lilied brood ; but when gliding along the braes, or sir)ging her songs by the river side, she might well remind one of that other brighter and more dazzling flower. Amy Gordon knew that she was beautiful. She knew it from the eyes that in delight met hers, from the tones of so many gentle voices, from words of affection from the old, and love from the young, from the sudden smile that met her when in the morning she tied up at the little mirror her long raven hair, and from the face and figure that looked up to her when she stooped to dip her pitcher in the clear mountain well. True that she was of lowly birth, and that her manners were formed in a shepherd's hut and among shepherdesses on the hill. But one week passed in the halls of tho highly-born would have sufficed to hide tho little graceful
152 Scotch Novels.
symptoms of her hurablo linoagce, and to equal her in elegance with those whom in beauty she far excelled. The sun and the rain had indeed touched her hands, but nature had shaped them delicate and small. Light was her footstep on the verdant turf, as through tho birch-wood glades and down the rocky dells she glided or bounded along, with a beauty that seemed at once native and alien there ; like some, creature of another clime that still had kindred with this : an oriental antelope among the roes of a Scottish forest."
Now this (which we have taken from the first two pages of the book) is a specimen of the author's most chastised style of description, for, florid and redundant as it is, it really comes as near to the level of sober prose as ever he condescends to stoop.
From such an introduction the discerning reader will readily surmise that a love-tale is in preparation, and doubtless it would be out of nature if so exquisite a shepherdess did not speedily make conquests. She gets, indeed, as far as nineteen herself without even a scratch from a random arrow of Cupid, but she has unconsciously captivated the heart of a rustic cousin, who, after bearing the flames as long as it was possible, rather abruptly pops the question one sunny afternoon while the Lily is sitting in a dehghtful glen among her lambs. The Lily is somewhat chill upon the occasion, talks to her swain as her brother, can never think of being his wife, yet to save him from desperation, very magnanimously vows never to marry at all. It is not long, however, before she feels the consequences of rash vows; for she meets among the hills Mr. George Elliott of the Priory, a high-born, rich, and romantic young 'squire, with a great many beautiful sisters, and a very proud mother. He makes honour- able, but violent, love to her on the spot, and after another inter- view she is so completely over head and ears, that she goes home, falls into a deadly fever, and, in her delirious ravings, uncon- sciously reveals the secret in the ears of her father and her enamoured cousin. But, after some time, she grows cahner, awakes from the dream of that high alliance, and seeing her cousin hanging over her, vows, if she recovers, to be his after all. She docs recover both her health and beauty, and resumes her pastoral occupations; but another trial waits her constancy : she meeis again with George Elliott, who, during her illness, had been in France, attending the death-bed of his father. He now inges her to instant wedlock, and whisks her oft' on horse- back, in a swoon, to a cottage on his estate, where one of his beautiful sisters appears to back her brother's suit. The Lily is very near giving way, but recollects herself in time, and in a long speech pf most extravagant humility, urges her inferiority of birth, her
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previous engagement, and her horror of perjury. The lover in despair rushes into the woods ; his sister pursues to protect him from himself, and the Lily, wrapped in the lady's silk shawl, flies to her home, and at the end of the month, is the wife of Walter Harden, the handsomest shepherd in the country. How the rejected suitor supports existence does not appear, but he neither hangs nor drowns himself, for after a few years, when several young lilies have grown up in the shepherd's cottage, he suddenly arrives one fine evening at the gate, and introduces to his former flame a most angelic bride ; and we are cruelly left in doubt whether the 'squire himself, or his sisters, or his lady, or the Lily of Liddesdale, be most deserving of the prize of beauty.
This is the naked outline of the tale, and a fair sample of all the author's plots. He selects a few romantic incidents, generally wmple, but seldom very natural, interlards them with mucn trite and trashy sentiment, and pours over the whole a flood of smooth and glittering, but inflated .ind fantastic, diction. We do not intend to make many extracts, but one or two will be necessary to render our remarks intelligible to those who have not seen the book. There is so great a sameness from beginning to end, that we need not be anxious about the selection. Love is the author's peculiar element, insomuch that Mrs. Opie and Anacreon are nothing to him. We shall, therefore, give one love-scene, and as moderate a one as we can find, for most of them are far too sublime for us to meddle with.
Helen Eyre is the orphan child of an English officer, and a young lady, "who was — not his wife;" and tlie author's object in the romantic tale seems to be, to reprove the heartless injustice with which, in these cases, the world visits the sin of the parents upon the children. A very amiable widow lady has, in spite of obloquy, educated and protected the orphan through infancy, childh(X)d, and early youth. She turns out a perfect paragon, like all the ladies Ave meet with in these volumes; but the difficulty is to get her properly married on account of her birth and poverty. A warm friendship subsists between her and Constance Beaumont, whose brother is the 'squire of the district, an officer in the Guards, and in other respects the coimterpart of our friend George Elliot above mentioned. Here, again, we have a desperately proud mother, and the gallant cornet himself (who is six feet three or four) is proud too ; but " omnia vincil amor.^' He meets Helen, dances with her, and is caught.
*' Hclon was walking one evening by the rivor-side, and iiad de- scended into a small green glade on a wooded bank, from wliicb there was a cheerful and splendid prospect of the town, and the rich country
154 Scotch Noveh*
around, when Henry Beaumont was at her side, and taking her hand into his, pressed it to his heart, and then led her to a stone scat beside a little spring that bubbled up through tlie roots of the trees, and danced its short silvery course down into the Tweed. Poor Helen's breath came quickly when he pressed her to his bosom, and, with a few burn- ing kisses and breathing words, declared his love and passion, and that she must be his wife. A pang of joy went through her heart, and she could just faintly utter, ' Your wife !' ' Yes, my wife — say that it will be so, and may God forget me if I am not kind to you, my best and most beautiful Helen, all the days of my life !'
" *0h. Sir! you could be unkind to no one; but think — oh, think who I am — unworthy and unfit to be the wife of Henry Beaumont/ He had an eloquent tongue, an eloquent eye ; and there was eloquence in the throbbing and beating of the heart that swelled his manly breast. He held Helen in his arms, as if she had been a frightened and pal- pitating dove : and she wished not to be released from that dear em- brace. She, the poor despised and slighted orphan, heard herself blessed by him who was ihe pride and flower of Scotland's youth ; his gentle, and tender, and respectful kisses stirred up all the holy thoughts that she had hidden in her heart, that they might lie there unseen for ever; and in that trance of bliss they all overflowed, and a few words of con- fessed affection escaped her lips. ' Yes, I love you beyond life and my own soul ; but never, never, Sir, may I be your wife. Think who you are, and then who I am, and a voice will tell you that we never can be united.' With these words she broke from his arras, and knelt down, nor was it in his power, so confounded was he, for a few minutes to lift her up. ' But though I know you never can marry me, remember, oh ! never, never cease to remember that I fell down on my knees before you, and vowed before that God who has hitherto preserved me in innocence and peace, to devote ray soul henceforth to your love. Enough will it bo for me to cherish your image for over in my heart; to weep with joy when I hear you are happy — never to repine, nor envy her happiness who may one day lie in your bosom ; but since God sent me into the world an orphan, unhappily bom, let me strive to subdue my soul to an orphan's fate, and submit quietly and piously to the solitary years that may be awaiting me, when my mother's grey- hairs are covered with darkness. Now, Sir, now my beloved Henry- Beaumont, let us either part, or walk away in silence from this spot, which to me will be for ever a hallowed place, for of Jove and marriage never more must our speech be — they are not for us.' "
Such resistance, however laudable, was not likely to damp the flames in either of their breasts ; however, the lady's resolution is not put to the proof, for the proud son carries his point against the proud mother, and Helen Eyre becomes in due time Mrs. H. Beaumont.
Of the remaining " Lights and Shadows," twenty-two in num- ber, perhaps we should select the " Snow Storm,"" and the "Family
/
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Tryst*' as the best. They are all of the same cast — tales of love or sorrow — of elegant joys and sentimental distress. The author's range is very limited, but his pathos would often be exceedingly effective, if his inordinate love of fine writing did not betray him perpetually to the very verge of biirlesque. His sentimentality, though very tiresome, is in general inoffensive enough ; yet now and then we do meet with a notion both singular and false. For example, a mother bereaved of her children by death, thus pours forth her sorrow :—
" Oh ! death is a shocking thought when it is linked in love with creatures so young as these ! More insupportable is gushing tenderness than even dry despair ; and mothinks I could bear to live without them, and never to see them more, if I cuuld only cease to pity thera ! But that can never be. It is for them 1 weep, not for myself. If they were restored to life, would I not lie down with thankfulness in the grave ?"
How gushing tenderness, or how any thingcan be worse than despair, we can by no means comprehend. The loss of friends is, indeed, at all times one of the heaviest afflictions to which we are exposed ; but our mourning is for ourselves, not for those who are at rest. To affect to piti^ the dead is above all things weak and impertinent. It is to pity a traveller who has just arrived in safety at the end of a toilsome and hazardous journey. Human life is a thing to be got through, rather than enjoyed, — not a recreation, but a task ; and those are the happiest who are the soonest released ; so it be by no act of their own, but accord- ing to the good pleasure of Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death.
As false sentiment, however, is not the author's most besetting sin, we shall conclude our notice of the " Lights and Shadows, with a better s])ecimen of his melancholy musings. Standing by the grave of an elder, he thus soliloquizes upon funeral rites : —
" What a simple burial has it been I Dust was consigned to dust — no more. Bare, naked, simple, and austere, is in Scotland the service of the grave. It is left to the soul itself to consecrate, by its passion,, the mould over which tears, but no words are poured. Surely there is a beauty in this; for the heart is left unto its own sorrow, according as it is a friend, a brother, a parent, or a child, that is covered up from our eyes. Yet call not other rites, however different from this, less beau- tiful or pathetic. For willingly does the soul connect its grief with any consecrated ritual of the dead. Sound or silence, music, hymns, psalms, sable garments, or raiment wliite as snow, all become holy symbols of the soul's affection ; nor is it for any man to say which is the most natural, which is the best of the thousand shows and expres-
156 ScotcJt Novels'.
sions, and testimonies of sorrow, resignation, and love, by which mortal beings would seek to express their souls when one of their brethren has returned to his parent dust." ]-. i
We come now to the " Trials of Margaret Lindsay,'*"' as dole^ ful a ditty as ever was chanted by tragic bard ; nevertheless, it does not falsify the remark we made in the beginning, that Scot- tish life, in the hands of this author, is upon the whole very bright and happy ; for the reader will find, as we proceed, that, though "heaviness may endure for a night, jo^ ,comet,h ia the morning.'" ' ' ''•
We have, indeed, lamentation and mourning in abundance, but the distressed heroines are ever and anon smiling through their tears ; and the immediate pressure of calamity is no sooner withdrawn, than the spirit of happiness returns to their hearts, as to its " assigned and native dwelling-place.'" How different this from the course of the real world !
The story is very inartificial in its construction, being little more than a rambling collection of melo-dramatic incidents, de- vised for stage eff'ect, and the introduction of rivers of sentiment. Violent excitements of passion, exaggerated distresses, sudden alternations of grief and joy, angelic resignation, arid heroic con- stancy, are the vulgar materials of romance which the author works up in every scene. But even the most slight and trivial incidents of the story are sufficient to set his lack-a-daisical muse a-going; and page after page of rapid sensibility and puling pastoral affectation so utterly exhausts our patience, that after closing the volume we can hardly criticize with due politeness.
The first scene is laid in the house of mourning. Adam Lindsay, a respectable surgeon in the neighbourhood of Edin- burgh, dies in narrow circumstances in the prime of life. At- tended on his death-bed by his wife and only son, he desires the son to read the 19th chapter of St. John, and to repeat the 26th and 27th verses. " When Jesus, therefore, saw his mother and the disciple standing by whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, woman, behold thy son ! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother ! and from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.'''' The father then immediately expires; and we notice this as one instance among many of the author's peculiar love of effect, no matter how produced. There is always bad taste in these familiar applications of sacred incidents ; but here there is no analogy between the cases. The verses quoted are not an ex- hortation to filial piety, for the disciple was no relation to our Saviour's mother ; Jesus on the cross commends his mother to the care of his friend : a moving instance of fihal regard in him ;
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but, in the other case, it is a dying husband consigning his widow to the care of her own son.
The story then proceeds to the funeral of the deceased, and the marriage of Walter Lindsay the son, who, by the earnings of his trade as a printer, supports his wife and mother for several years in great credit and comfort, till, corrupted by evil commu- nications, he turns freethinker and jacobin, and brings into his house " The Age of Reason" — * fons et origo malorum.' From that moment his fate is sealed, and the trials of his daughter Margaret commence. On suspicion of treason he is cast in^io jail, and his family, which had long been suffering from his neglect, is left entirely to its fate. That family consists of his aged bed-ridden mother, a stern devotee, who worships the memory of the Covenanters ; his wife, a weak and delicate matron, and three daughters, Margaret, the eldest, our heroine, Esther, who had been left blind by the small-pox, and Marion, the youngest, an idiot. An only son is absent at sea.
The care of this helpless household is now thrown almost entirely upon Margaret, who has just attained her sixteenth year. She is a being " adorned with all that earth and heaven can bestow to make her amiable." She visits her father in prison, and narrowly escapes from the wiles of a ruffian who had been one of his political associates. This is her first trial. Walter Lindsay is soon afterwards set at liberty ; but having entangled himself in a guilty connection with the wife of an acquaintance, he resolves to abscond with her, and visits his family only to announce his final departure. His mother, rising from her l)€d, with convulsive energy, curses him as he retires. His daughter distractedly follows to reclaim him, and almost prevails, when his paramour appears, and answers the maiden's ])athelic appeal by in- sults and a blow. The guilty pair then quickly disappear ; but the interview has revealed to Margaret the full extent of her father's criminality and shame. On her return home she finds her grand- mother dead, after having, at the entreaty of the wife, recalled, with her last breath, the curse upon her son. Margaret then recounts to her mother all she had seen and heard. Hope seems to die within them. Poverty and want stare them in the face. They are constrained to quit the pleasant dwelling where they had so long been happy, and to hire a lodging in a narrow lane in the city. 1 he neighbours raise them fourpounds to pay their rent ; and, on a miserable day in November, tliey transport themselves, and the scanty remnant of their worldly goods, to their new abode. This reverse of fortune, however, which is painted in such gloomy colours, turns out to be nothing so very bad after till ; for on their arrival they find a friendly reception, a good
158 Scotch Novels.
fire, good cheer, and good beds : they eat well and sleep well, and have plenty of comforts about them; which justifies the observation above made, that our author, with all his pathos, deals only in poetical distresses. He plunges this helpless family in poverty so great, that for four pounds they narrowly escape a jail ; yet he carefully protects them from all the consequences of poverty, hunger, cold, and nakedness.
Soon after they are settled, Margaret and her mother open a day-school, which flourishes beyond their hopes. The sailor boy, whom they had given up for lost, unexpectedly pays them a visit, and brings with him a jolly messmate, who takes a great fancy to Margaret, escorts her all about, entices her to commit the heinous sin of going to the play; and, being too late for church one Sunday, prevails upon her to take a sail out with him to his frigate in the roads, to see her brother. Such high crimes and misdemeanours are quickly overtaken by more than poetical jus- tice, for the boat is upset in a squall, all hands go down, and Margaret is recovered, and, after along time, restored to life; her lover opens his bright eyes no more. These offences, so severely punished, are the first and the last that betoken our heroine akin to frail humanity.
The school continues to prosper, and all goes well again, till one day a letter is received from Walter Lindsay, announcing himself on his death-bed at Glasgow. Margaret and her mother repair to him with all speed, and find him attended by the part- ner of his guilt, in a wretched garret, and very near his end. The death scene is painted in the author's best manner. There is not much power, but it is free from debasing conceits and extravagant horror.
The widow never recovers from this shock, and soon after- wards her two youngest children, the blind and the insane, are removed into a better world. She herself follows in a few months, and Margaret is received as governess into the family of Miss Wedderburne, an affluent and charitable young lady, who had long been her valuable friend and patroness. Here she conducts herself with exemplary propriety, and enjoys as much happiness as the most favoured of mortals may hope for ; but her trials are not yet over. A little love is now reqviisite to relieve the dark scenery of the past, and the author, in the fertility of his invention, has again recourse to a handsome young laird and a proud mamma. Richard Wedderburne is dreadfully smitten, and knowing the difficulties, rather ungenerously tries to bind our heroine by an oath to be his at some distant period, and in the mean time to keep close counsel. She, however, with a better sense of propriety, resolves to reveal the matter to his sister,
^1
Scotch NomU. 191
but, before her purpose can be executed, mamma, suspecting something wrong, has extorted a full confession from her son, and packed him off into the country, till Margaret is disposed of. Our heroine soon succeeds in establishing her innocence, and the parting is all in kindness. She betakes herself to the house of an old rich uncle, who, though a miser, opens his heart to her, entertains her with affection, and finally leaves her his estate and whole fortune. She now again teaches a school, is admired by all, courted by several, and finally marries a military ragamuffin, Ludovic Oswald, the minister's only son. Then comes the last and severest of her trials. After living with her husband for some time in perfect love and happiness, she one day receives a dreadful visit from a stranger ; Hannah Blantyre by name, who proclaims herself, with vehemence, the only lawful wife of Ludovic Oswald. Her claim is but too well established. The guilty husband confesses and disappears, and all is tragedy for many pages, till Hannah Blantyre is removed out of the way by death. A little calm then succeeds; but by and by Ludovic Oswald is again heard of in an hos- pital at Edinburgh. Thither Margaret and the old minister instantly repair, and find the object of their solicitude apparently at the point of death. He recovers, however, repents, is reunited to Margaret, and they live as happily together for several years as if nothing had ever been amiss. Some other marriages take place, with a due proportion of deaths ; and the tale closes, leaving our heroine a venerable widow and a happy mother; content with this world and prepared for the next.
In this slight epitome, we have omitted numberless details, and all embellishments ; but the mere plan of the fable leads us to remark, that the author has fallen into the common error of sentimental writers in taking his subject from low life. And it is an error w hich they of all writers ought to avoid ; for nothing can be more unsentimental than the simple annals of the poor. Humble life, particularly in Scotland, is rich in many valuable qualities, but happily it is exempt from the curse of sentiment, — a weed that grows only in the hot-beds of luxury and indolence. The unsophisticated manners of shepherds and mechanics may furnish an important field of study to the philosopher, and some interesting subjects to the skilful dramatist ; but when the sentimentalist comes upon the same ground, he produces immediately such unnatural combinations of rusticity and refinement as we every where meet with in the volumes before us. Prodigies, it is true, may be found in nature ; but the painter is not to select them as examples of life, and to substitute the exception for the rule.
160 Scotch Novels.
There is another error of design yet more important, which we have observed in the tale now under review. The moral which the author seems labouring from beginning to end to inculcate, is that piety and prudence, however beset by the snares of the world, will yet always be triumphant, and sure of happiness even on this side the grave. A pious fraud perchance is here intended. But all frauds are dangerous ; although in this the delusion is very palpable ; yet once attach a man to the pleasing theory of impartial justice upon earth, and every instance occurring to the contrary will be as likely to shake his trust in Providence, as to correct the error of his philosophy.
Of the various characters introduced into this tale, the greater part are very insipid in themselves, and depend for their effect almost entirely upon the exciting situations in which they are placed. There are some sweet touches in the picture of the idiot girl : but the only approach to spirit and force is in Hannah Blantyre. We give her first address to Margaret, into whose presence she abruptly introduces herself, leading in her hand a little boy, who bears in his countenance the image of Ludovic Oswald : —
" ' My name is Hannah Blantyro — perhaps you may have heard it — if not, then Luclovic has deceived you even more basely than he deceived me. If you married him with the consequences before your eyes, then the guilt, the shame, and the ruin be upon your own head.' Margaret heard the words — each one of them, and all of them together, in a hideous and horrible huddle ; and she almost repeated them aloud in the quaking fear of some unimaginable evil. * Yes, yes, I have heard, your name ; I was told that you were dead — dead of a broken heart. But how is this ? Does my husband know that you are alive ?'
" * Ludovic Oswald is not your husband, he is my husband, the father of that little boy there, whom you hold by the hand — and my ain wee Luclovic was born in lawful wedlock. Aye, sinner as I was when first he took me to his bosom, I was the wife of Ludovic Oswald when that helpless creature saw the light of this unhappy world.' Margaret heard her words ; her eyes were lixed with a ghastly stare on the sky, but they saw nothing ; she did not faint — but a strong convulsion shook her, and she gave one shrill shrieking cry. ' Poor woman,' said the stranger, * I pity you ; but my poor little Ludovic shall not be a bastard when I am dead. Had I had no bairn, I might have lived on in my desertion — for I know its father hates me — but shame shall not be on his bonny head. Therefore I come to claim my husband, and let the curse fall at last on the guiltiest head.' "
The scene of passionate grief which follows frightens the child into a crying fit:
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'* ' Hush, brat,* said his mother fiercely, and shook him with a strong arm till he shrieked. ' Ol), my God I are you the wife of Ludovic Oswald, and is it thus you use his child ?' ' Yes, it is thus I use his child ; and ask him when he first comes again to your bod how he used me. Ask him if he ever cursed me — if he ever left me behind him when the bayonets of the French were at hand — if he ever basely suspected me of infidelity to him, my seducer first, and my husband afterwards — ask him if now he has married another, you yourself — and if ho dares to deny Hannah JBlantyre to be iiis wife — if ho will face God in judgment, after swearing that this child is a bastard ? Stand up, you wailing imp, and let her see a child that may show its face with the best bairns in all Scotland through — the son of Ludovic Oswald and me Hannah Blantyre.' "
There runs throu<;hoiit these volumes a very warm vein of piety — but, like the author's morality, it is far too sentimental and obtrusive. The following passage is a favourable specimen, though we fear the picture of a Scottish sabbath is a little too highly touched : —
" Tried as she had been by so mauy afflictions, throughout those years that, in our imagination of human life, we vainly think belong to happiness alone, Margaret had not had recourse to religion occasionally to console, but at all times to keep her alive, like the very air she breathed ; and to her the sabbath day was so entirely set apart to God, that upon it she could, with small effort, banish all disturbing earthly emotions, and keep it sanctified, without intrusion, to the great purpose for which it was designed. Nor is such solemn and serene obsorvanfjo of the sabbath, rare in the cottages of Scotland. In many thousand families it is a day scarcely belonging to this life, on which the poor man's soul, wearied and worn out by labour, poverty, or other ills, re- news its hold on heaven. The turmoil of the week-days is no more remembered in the calm that then reigns within the religious house, than the sound of the waves that have beat against the vessel's side at sea, by the crew who have moored her securely within the circle of some land-locked bay, beautitui in its perpetual calm. Each sabbath comes upon the earth with the unbroken holiness of all that have pre- ceded it, and thus the simple dwellers in huts are burn to its observ- ance, just as a son is born to venerate his father's grey hairs. Tho sabbath day, therefore, is a day of refuge ; and the clamours, sighs, groans, cares, anxieties, griefs, and guilts of life do not enlor its dawn, but they lie in wait for the soul when it shall again come out into the regions of this earth, once more to be harassed, turmoiled, and pursued."
Instances of affected phraseology abound so much everv where, that, even in the extracts we have made, which are all of the favourable kind, they cannot have escaped the reader's obser-
VOL. I. M
162 Scotch Novels.
vation. If we chose, we could exhibit a choice collection of exotic, vulgar, fantastic, and nonsensical phrases, but the task of verbal criticism is always ungrateful, and we shall content ourselves with observing that the author's diction stands in need of the pruning-hook almost as much as his fancy.
The foregoing remarks and extracts having run to some length, we shall dismiss the " Foresters" with a briefer notice: and the rather as it exhibits the very same merits and defects which we have found in the two preceding works; the same harmony, feeling, and pathos, impaired by the same sickly sensibility and quaint affectation. The action includes considerably more than
" Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy :"
for, as in the " Trials of Margaret liyndsay," three generations of postdiluvian mortals appear upon the stage. The first indeed is introduced in good old age, but the second is conducted from infancy to grey hairs, and the third as far as wedlock on the journey of life. The dramatis personse are very numerous : but we shall not enter into any detailed examination of their merits, for the reader will by this time have observed that in the conception of his characters, our author generally departs from nature, without displaying much originality or force of invention. He is neither an accurate delineator of manners, like Fielding ; nor a profound master of the passions, like Shakspeare, nor yet, like the same great bard, a sublime magician. We could willingly forgive him for soaring into the clouds, if he would now and then introduce us to a Prospero, or an Ariel, an awful Ghost, or a Fairy Queen. But unfortunately he is just poetical enougli to substitute fancy for observation, without venturing once within the enchanted circle. His men and women are neither quite what they are, nor quite what they should be ; but a kind of imaginary befngs taken from that insipid midway region between the visible and the invisible world in which we lose the warm reality of the one, but meet not yet with the mystic shadows and aerial music of the other.
Michael Forester, the hero of the tale, is a most exemplary person, who neyer does anything that is wrong, and,though afflicted with many grievous misfortunes, is always happy-. He is an ex- cellent farmer, an excellent theologian, and a very fair astronomer. He has a charming wife and daughter, and a loquacious aunt. Though two or three times ruined, he is never in want; and though struck blind by lightning in the flower of his age, he not only bears the visitation with fortitude, but, from that moment, "becomes actually a great deal happier than ever he was before.
Scoich Novels, 163'
VVe have then, by way of contrast, a most unamiable portrait of one of the most unamiable beings in nature, a gloomy and cold- hearted Calvinist. We have a picture of fashionable vices in the lord of the manor, a young gentleman, who had learned Latin at Eton, and immoraUty in France. He visits his heredi- tary estate, with a train of profligate companions and insolent menials ; spreads dismay through the country by his pranks ; lays a wicked snare for Lucy Forester ; and the next day is killed in a duel, to the infinite satisfaction of his tenantry. As a set-off*, however, against him, we are presented with a pattern of female, or rather of angelic perfection, in his sister, Emma Cran- stoune, the Lady of the Hirst. Mr. Kennedy, the parish minis- ter, is a very good specimen of the clerical character, and there are many other excellent persons of both sexes, who act their several parts with good emphasis and good discretion. The au- thor indulges in his favourite love scenes beyond all moderation ; for his young ladies, (who are all so beautiful that there is no settling the order of precedence,) generally begin to be in love about fourteen, and are happily married before twenty. All this must be very delightful to tne parties interested, but some mercy should be shown to the reader. Nevertheless, with all our objec- tions to the romantic delusions which abound in these tales, we must confess that if some of them could be realized, the world would be a much pleasanter place than it is. We meet every now and then, in turning over the pages, with visions of purity and happiness which are very charming, though altogether ima- ginary, A poetic mantle is thrown, as if in mockery, over the prosaic realities and sordid details of human life. Hope deceives not. The spirit of man aspires not in vain after peace ; and virtue never descends in darkness and sorrow to the grave.
We shall make but a single extract from the " Foresters ;'* and it shall be one which seems intended by the author as an apology for that peculiar description of character which he is so fond of introducmg. We have said what we think of such characters. It is fair that the reader should see what can be said by one who thinks differently.
*' Flora Frazer was ono of those perfoctly simple and harmless- nay, at once, innocent creatures — of wliom it is thouglit we may read in old songs and ballads, the fictions of imaginative minds in lowly life, but no where existing even in the hut farthest remote from the haunts of men. But in those little traditionary strains of feeling and of genius, the human spirit speaks of itself no more than the truth ; and although to those who live not among the dwellers in the wild, and know them most imperfectly from the mere appearances of their outward condition, such pictures may seem false and visionary, yet the
M 2
164 Lectures on the Philosophy of Modern Ithtory.
colours are true as those of twilight or the sunset heavens, and touched by an unerring hand obeying the genuine impulses of nature."
We now take leave of GUI'' aiithor in the spirit of charity, assuring him that what we have said, we have not said in petu- lance or envy, but from a sincere persuasion that he is misusing his own genius, and ministering to a false and sickly taste but too prevalent among readers of fiction. That he means well we cannot doubt. He is every where pious, moral, and humane, but sentiment is the ruin of him. He aspires to the dignity of a moral teacher, without having soberly studied the passions of the human heart. The consequence is that he gives the reins to a warm imagination, and instead of communicating solid instruc- tion for the conduct of life, he exhibits pleasing, but delusive pictures of the Avorld, drawn from fancy, and tending to make men indolent and romantic,' £rtid"^fcfit fot the vulgar affairs bf
mortality. • ' " '. '*' "^^ -•""■! '' . , ^'J*
n-jj to 7fjtyc>ici giiijoa9a'f9c| ddt ubiI; . .TrpjitTinrrrff
AsiT. TS..-^Lecti^es on the Philosophy of Modern History.
Delivered in the University of Duhiin. By George Miller,
D.D. M.R.I. A. Rector of Dorryvoylan, and late Fellow of
Trinity College, Dublin,, , and. Lecturer /on Mqdern History.
I 6 vols. 8vo. »ff.> K \i floidriDqqi'a yiii f-
Thouqh this work has not yet been completed, so large a part of it has been executed, and so much time has unavoidably elapsed since its commencement, that we think it right to bring it before the public, even in its present unfinished state ; con- ceiving that a sufficiently correct opinion may now be formed, both of the soundness of its principles, and of the probability of its entire accomplishment ; while the merits of the portion already published are fairly submitted to our judgment. " '• '^ ^''
The design of the author embraces a range of very wide ex- tent ; for it comprehends the whole of modern history, from the suppression of the western empire, in the year 476, to the French revolution, or through thirteen centuries. Its peculiar object is no less than to open a new department of science ; which he has, in a second preface prefixed to the third volume, described as the physiology of history. The author proposes to prove, that all the events of general history, various and apparently unconnected as they may be, do yet, in their combinations and mutual relations, constitute a whole, illustrative of the providen-
Lectures on the Philosophy of Modern ffistori/. 165
tisil government of God in the progressive improvement of his reasonable creatures.
The view of general history here proposed is providential ; but it would be an error to conceive that it is necessarian, or that individuals are supposed to be guided in their actions by (^ivine interpositions. How far such interpositions may be ac- tually exercised by the D^ity, the author does not inauire ; be- cause no means oi forming an opinion on the subject nave been afforded. He considers all men as acting freely, and regards the providential government of Cf.p^ as administered only by sending into the world, according to the divine foreknowledge, agents so peculiarly qualified, by ability or by weakness, — by virtuous or by depraved dispositions, — as of themselves to lead the events of history to the desired consummation. Good and evil are, in the view of the writer, alike conducive to the accomplishment of the divine purposes : the pious zeal of Luther being not more an instrument than the persecuting bigotry of a auke of Alva. The end which he conceives he can colloct from the combina- tions of history, i? not so much tlu' liappiiuss of man as his im- provement ; the world being considered as a scene of various action, in which man is to be gradually advanced to a higher station of reasonable and moral nature. The author has re- marked, in the preface to which we have already alluded, that he is not a fatalist, for he considers the actions of men as naturally free; that he is not an enthusiast, for he has in no instance argued from the supposition of a divine impulse communicated to an agent, and regulating his conduct ; and that he does not pretend to any other knowledge of the divine purposes, than such as may be fairly collected from observing what has been actually accomplished.
The author has, in the same preface, thus described the theory which he has endcaToured'^ta 'apply ta the iac|f«f his- tory :— ' 1' ''i.'W r-.'i 'lo ^."Jllfxil'Wr- 'Xft 'to .'(JV •
" His doctrino Is, that the great Cre^ipr, in arranging this earth for the reception of its inhabitants, has originally so dL«tributC(d its conti- nents, its seas, its islands, its mountains, its rivers, its various soils, and its climates, as they might best dispose the characters, and the political circumstances of its various nations, to constitute one collective system of human society, fitted to work out its own gradual melioration ; and that, in his subsequent superintcridcnce, foreseeing all the future actions even of his free creatures, he sends into the world agents va- riously qualiticd, so that all their actions, though not restrained by any control, may notwithstanding be combined with the most peri'ect har- mony in the production of such a result, as should be agreeable to the wisdom and tlio beneficence of his own nature. This doctrine is not
Lectures on the Philosophy of Modern History,
limitod to the public fortunes of nations, for the actions of all men, even of those of the meanest order, are supposed to have been fore- seen, and to bo actually corabined in the general plan of Providence. Neither, on the other hand, does it suppose the Almighty to interfere frequently, for the purpose of rectifying his own work, by influencing the wills of his creatures; for it considers all the actions of men, with- out exception, as free, and represents the government of God as ex- ercised by his foreknowledge, introducing agents suitable to the several occasions of society."
In stating the view in which this work claims to be considefed ^ a philosophy of history, the author remarks: —
"It states and illustrates the various causes which have been ob- served to act in political changes ; it applies the consideration of these causes to the examination of a large and vastly diversified portion of the history of the world ; and it professes to prove, that all these changes harmonize in one common system of moral order, in the same manner in which the phenomena of the material world constitute a whole. It proposes, however, he adds, something more than this, for it under- takes to establish, on this basis, the doctrine of the moral government of the world. The doctrine of a divine ruler through the legitimate influence of philosophy, and as such represented by Newton in the conclusion of his ever-memorable treatise of the material system, is considered as belonging rather to theology, and may perhaps still more require to be so classed, when founded upon arguments relating to the agencies of moral beings. The present work in this other view corre- sponds then to these treatises on natural theology, the latest and most complete of which has been published by Paley. In such treatises the uses of the several parts of physical nature, and especially the functions of the curious organization of the animal and regetable tribes, are de- tailed as illustrative of the existence, the wisdom, the power, and the goodness of the great Being by whom they have been devised : in the pres^ent, the moral agencies of man are considered in a similar view, and those vast and various aggregates of human action, which are denominated nations, are exhibited as exercising functions analogous to those of physical organization ; and like the latter, manifesting the existence and the attributes of a supreme contriver."
This doctrine, he suggests, may perhaps be considered as the physiology of history.
" The whole political world," he says, ** being considered as a combined system, it is proposed to prove, that every part has exercised one or more functions, correspondent to its circumstances, and instru- mental to the well-being of the whole. In examining the structure of the body of an animal or vegetable, we observe, with admiration, the various uses to which its numerous and dissimilar parts are subservient,
Lectures on th6 Philosophy of Modern History. 167
afid the harmony with which they are combined. VVhy may we not seoic for such adapt xtions in the Ti notions or the mutual relations of the several parts of the great aggregate of nations ? That the<# are very variously circumstanced is certain; so variously indeed, that the lowest of the human ra.;e are scarcely more distant trom brute ani- mals than the favoured sons of civilizatidn are exalted above the savage outcasts of hurhanity: and even among those nations which enjoy the refinements of civilized life, we perceive diversity and inequality in all the particulars which constitute their social interests."
In illustrating his providential view of history, the author compares more particularly his work with that of Paley. .,
" When Paley," says he, "examined the curious structure of the eye,' and compared it with the artiilcial combination of a telescope, he perceived plain marks of contrivance, and inferred the existenccof a contriver. May we not draw similar conclusions from the combinations of policy, when they are distinct and peculiar, and at the same time manifestly instru- mental to an important interest? If we discover the existence of a God in the vertebrae of the human spine, why may we not also see it in the forination of a Norman principality, which at onco determined the cha- racter of tlie English government, just when the principles of the Saxon constitution were exhausted, and gave a beginning to those international relations of the two neighbouring countries, which terminated in con- stituting them the directive powers of the general system of Europe, and of the world ? May we not draw the same conclusion from the combi- nation so curiously formed between the German monarchy and Rome, which decided the interests of these two countries, and all their various and important results of commerce, art, learning, federative policy, and the reformation ? Each of these arrangements was very peculiar in its formation, and was directly instrumental to very considerable etfects."
The author appears to have regarded as the most formidable objection, which he had to encounter, the supposed inadequate- ness of the human mind to the analysis of the measures of the divine providence. In replying to it he demands,
" Must that Being who can measure the vast spaces of the heavens, detect all the intricacies of the plaaetary movements, and weigh, as in a balance, the great bodies of the solar system, be naturally incapable of examining and comparing the tendencies of the actions of beings like himself, inhabiting the same globe, and brought by the records of his- tory under his observation ? The counsels of the Almighty are indeed unsearchable before they have been executed, for that which is Unite must be incapable of fathoming infinity ; when, however, those coun- sels have been executed, they are no longer the designs of the Almighty, but the actions of his creatures, and arc lit subjects of human exumi- oation, because they exhibit to the observer the conduct of humau agents. The past and the remote are brought to our knowledge by
Lectures on the Philosophy of Modern History.
tlielelescope of history ; and if there are parts of tl)c transactions of our species of which we are but indistinctly informed, they are but the nebuUc which cluster on the borders of the system, and leave the pecu- liar objects of our research conspicuous and distinguishable/'
- /ill!.-
It is indeed admitted by the author, that in cases of very limited duration and extent we may be unable to discover that subortbnation of parts, and that unity of combination, which alone can indicate the will of the supreme Disposer of events. Cases thus limited may not comprehend whole combinations of events, and may therefore be insufficient to exhibit the relations of parts On this account it is necessary that such a view of history, as is here proposed, should comprehend some large portion of time, and also that it should be separated from those which preceded and followed. Such a portion has been marked out for a separate consideration by the suppression of the wester rl empire and the revolution of France ; and the general history of the world, as comprehended between these two important changes, furnishes accordingly the subject of this work.
In reviewing this grand portion of history, Europe claims the principal attention, as the region in which human activity of every kind has been most strenuously exerted, and all the grand processes of improvement have been almost exclusively per- formed. The other regions of the world are not indeed excluded from consideration, but they are regarded as subordinate and auxiliary to this, which all the influences of local causes have united to render the scene of the most intense and various energies, ' J tt ' i ..
Among the improvements whiclfi the author proposes tq analyze, his attention is chiefly directed to the formation of a system of balanced policy, as the peculiar characteristic of moderri Europe, and itself the animating principle of every beneficial effort, as it is the security of that national independence, without which the human mind must lose its elasticity. Such a systeia was, however, very slowly forme(^,3,s it require^ ,^ , Ipng spies ipi^ preparatory corabmations. " /
A view of the gradual formation of the arrangements of European poUcy,is thus given ]b|y tjie auUior: —
" The priraordiar comhination IS conceived to have been the connec- tion established between the government of the Franks and the papacy, begun by Pepin, and corapleled by Charlemagne ; the empire formed by the latter prince tben threw off", on the one side, Germany, which connected itself with Italy, and acquired from France the imperiftl' dignity ; and, on the other, a great Norman principality, which cort-^ ' quercd England, and began the international relations of that courttry
Leetui'68 on the Philosophy of Modern History. 169
and Franco. In this manner two distinct combinations were consti- tuted— tliat of Germany and Italy, and that of France and England; the former, while it developed many important advantages of commerce and literature, had for its especial object the formation of the federative policy of Europe devised among the independent govem- racnts of Italy, and matured taion* the ill-united members of the empire. The latter had for its peculiar object the formation of two governments, sufficiently enlightened and pov^^erful to preside over the federative system of Europe, when its principles should have been sufficiently formed in the confederation of the tiermanic empire, and then established throughout Europe by tho treaty of Westphalia. The reformation supplying a powerful and pervading prhjciplc of religious dissension, distributed the governments of Europe into two classes, prepared to act in mutual opposition for the support of a system of cquiiibriura ; aiid lastly, while this system of polit'cal equilibrium wa^ thus formed and maintained, the great discoveries of modern commerce cxtouded the enterprise, and excited thje industry of nations ; and the ' general struggle of mind lias diftused, oyer '^Ko jv^olo clh unexample4' degree of intellectual improvement." ' \ ''•'■' '*!.','' "^ - ■' "-■ ■III'' /!-ji:n,
tnrel^ai^d t'(i'tlil*'^formation of a sy«/^'iif federative policy, the whole period of history reviewed in t^is work, is distinguish- able Into four parts. The first, which Was much the longest, f)receded the year 1480, in which a treaty for establishing a ba- ance of power in Italy, was concluded' by Lorenzo de Medici. This period, comprehending a thousand and four years, as it be- gan in the year 476', was merely preparatory. The remaining three hundred and nine years, which include the proper history of this policy, comprehended three distinct periods of time, as divided by the treaty of Westphalia, and by the Britlsli revolu- tion. In the first of these three inten'als, comprehending a hundred and sixty-eight years, the knowledge and influence of a federative policy, were confined to Italy, where it had been de- vised, and to Germany, to which it had been transmitted from l^laly. By the treaty of Westphalia, this policy was established generally among the governmetits of Europe, but not in a form in which it could adapt itself to their relative importance. Such a policy could have been received from the Italian states only by a government so slightly combined, that it was little difflerent from a confederacy, and the German empiij'e was accordingly the government to which it was immediately c;ommunicated. To fit it for this function, the Aimily of Austria was, by contingent events, exalted to an importance alarming to the other govern- ments. France, in these circumstances, became the guardian of the independence of Europe, and entered into conabination wit! the Gernl£^n principalities, which were opposed to the emperor in
V79 Lecturer on the Philosophy oj Modern History,
the domestic struf^gle of the empire. This, was, however, not a natural combination of the European powers, for France was possessed of the chief resources of intrinsic strength, and the British government, with the interests of commerce, was but indirectly included. It subsisted, accordingly, but during the short period of forty-one years, and then yielded to the more per- fect arrangement, in which, during a whole century, France maintained a predominance, corresponding to the strength of such a government, and Great Britain was the balancing or protecting power. By the French revolution this combination was dissolved, and with its dissolution, this review of history is terminated.
The concluding period of the federative policy, is represented as exhibiting, not one general combination of the European go- vernments, but two distinct systems ; a southern and principal system being formed of all, except the four governments of Russia, Denmark, and Sweden, which constituted the northern system, and Poland, which was a sort of debatable ground be- tween the two. Of these, the southern alone maintained the combinations of a federative policy, the northern having for its object, not so much a balance of power, as the aggrandizement of Russia, probably in preparation for the part which that em- pire should take in the combinations succeeding the system re- cently dissolved, when perhaps all the governments of Europe may be connected in one general arrangement of political interests.
The execution of this very extensive plan, appears already to have occupied the fourth part of a century. The course of lectures was begun in the year 1800, and was concluded in the year 1811, a few lectures being delivered in each year, as they could be prepared. Of eighty-four lectures, which composed the entire course, sixty have been published at three several times in six volumes, of which two were published in the year 1816, two in the year 1820, and two in the year 1824. These have brought the general review of modern history to the time of the British revolution, and tile remaining lectures, which are still unpublished, have for their subject, the history of the period which intervened between that event and the revolution of France.
From these particulars it will appear, that the whole period of modern history has been surveyed in the lectures already published, except only the concluding century, during which its arrangements subsisted in their most perfect form. If, then, all the antecedent events have been shown to conduce, directly or indirectly, to this result, the theory of the author may be con- sidered as established, even though this last period has not yet
Lecturer on the Philosophy of Modern History. 171
been reviewed. It is acknowledged that the eighteenth century was a period distinguished by general improvement, and espe- cially by the maintenance of a system of balanced policy. Ifj therefore, the whole of the ages which preceded, has been shown to have been properly preparatory to the arrangements of thi^ eighteenth century, that unity of the combinations of history iri connection with improvement, has been established, from whicH the author concludes, that the affairs of the world are under the direction of a superintending Providence, guiding them to thfe attainment of the purposes of the divine beneficence. The conclusion must, inaeed, be rendered yet more satisfactory, by tracing through the improvement of the eighteenth century, the influences of the causes which had previously operated, and thus pointing out the connections, through which that improvement had been produced.
To the lectures directly relating to the history, four of a pre- paratory nature have been prefixed. The first of these contains a review of the history of political philosophy, and explains the new theory of a providential government, proposed by the au- thor, distinguishing it from the two modern doctrines of optimism and perfectibility. In the second, the various causes of political changes are reduced to six classes: — 1. general causes ; H. local ; 3. personal; 4. adventitious; 5. existing institutions; 6. external compression. The second of these is subjected to a fourfold sub- division, being distinguished into the influences of climate, soil, extent, and geographical situation and circumstances. The fourth and fifth classes appear to have been on this occasion distinctly noticed for the first time. The last, which relates to the action of one state upon another by hostility, had been noticed by Fer- guson, in his " Essay on the History of Civil Society," that writer having observed, " That without tho rivalship of nations, and the practice of war, civil society itself covdd scarcely have found an object or a form, and that we should expect in vain to give to the multitude of a people a sense of vmion among themselves, if we were not assistea by the operation of foreign hostility."
The class of adventitious influences comprehends those which have been communicated from one country to another, whether the communication is made by the emigration of men, or of opinions.
" Of the influence of the migrations of men," the author remarks, " an example may bo taken from the communication of the arts of civilized life to the rude inhabitants of early Greece, by the colonists who removed thither from Egypt and Phoenicia; and, for moderii
1721 Lectures on the Philosophy of Modern HisfoT^.
times, from the various and important effects produced by the irruptions of the northern barbarians into the corrupted empire of the west. Of that of the migration of opinions, a very remarkable one may be de- rived from the fortune of the Mahometan religion, originating from the extraordinary qualities of the impos^tor, assisted by the pecuhar cir-i cumstances of Arabia, — its ignorance, its divisions, and its independr ence, it was diffused by cortquest into countries in whicli it could not primarily have arisen, w^ then adopted voluntarily by tlie Tartar, con- querors of these countries, and has continued to this day the support of a political despotism among the Turks, while t|^e^^{CjJi:^]es of Arabia wander over their deserts in their primitive Wherty,'**^^ .^^^^^.
The class of existing institutions comprehends the influences of those institutions which have outlasted their principles, and then act upon a society merely because they are established.
" To the influence of the laws of Crete and Laconia," says the author, " it has been ascribed, thatthe latter was the last Grecian state which fell a prey to the Macedonians, and the former the last which submitted to the Romans. The violent convulsion which overthrew the monarchy of France, was, on the other hand, the result of the con- tinuance of the exclusive privileges of the nobility, in a period of the government in which the commons had become qualified to aspire to the poSsessibh oif a large share of political importance."
On the last class, denominated external compression, the au- thor has particularly insisted throughout the work, conceiving that, in every case, some external agency is necessary for exciting into action the disposition to improvement existing within a state, or a combination of states. One only people, he remarks, has been exempted from its operation, and this was the Jewish people, while they wandered in the M-ilderness ; the exception, however, as in other cases, proves the rule, for the Jews were separated during this period from the agency of other nations, that they might be trained in submission to the immediate government of God, a constitution peculiar to themselves.
To this lecture is subjoined, as connected with the formation of political society, a dissertation on the singleness of that won- derful event, the general deluge, of which it has been solemnly declared, that it should never be repeated. This the author ex- plains from the great change in the duration of human life, by which, he maintains, man became fitted for the formation of distinct societies, which, by their mutual action, might restrain and punish excesses. Man, he conceives, cannot be considered as fitted for the formation and maintenance of political society, unless when the length of human life had been reduced within such limits, that the near prospect of succeeding to the various
Lectures (m the PJulosophy of Modern History. 173
advantages which it offers, might stimulate those exertions, by which its functions are discharged. Since, therefore, in the earliest period of the world, the necessity of transmitting securely by tradition, whatever information had been received by our first parents, required that human Hfe should be of very great duration, men must have been in that period unfit for the forma- ti<m of distinct societies, which by their mutual action might ex- ercise a mutual control ; and on this account, an extraordinary visitation of the divine vengeance, became for that period a ne- cessary corrective of human enormity, not, however, to be re- peated, because the subsequent abridgment of the length of hu- man life, should qualify men for forming and maintaining com- binations mutually corrective by the agency of war.
In the third lecture, the author proposes to show that the earth, by its geographical distribution into continents, seas, and islands, with their several peculiarities, is disposed in general cor- respondence to the events of the history of our species, so as to have been a theatre accommodated to its revolutions. This lec- ture is, accordingly, a general application of the principles re- lating to the influence of local causes, which had been stated in the preceding. One observation has been made in it, which pe- culiarly claims attention, as it is intended to explain the influence of the very vmequal distribution of dry land between the northern and the southern hemisphere. " On the one side of the equator, therefore,"' says the author, " is placed almost the entire scene of human activity, while the other is almost wholly abandoned to a waste of waters." The observation suggested by this consi- deration is, that such an arrangement is well accommodated to that singleness of plan in the history of the world, which it is the study of the author to investigate, So far as local causes mq,y be supposed to exercise influences on the characters and for- ^mies of nations, in that same proportion would two sets of coun- .tfies> corresponding in climate, and otjier circumstances of local situation, have tended tp,d|SitiHrJ^ ^^,^fl^y,(^,lU>ftg!BD^r^l.col^lb^- ^tions of the world.^ . ,,,,„,., ■„. ,|).,„U)Mfn' -A mu > .1 xi'; J'
These general topics do not form the whole of the preliminary apparatus of the work, for the author, before he enters upon the review of modern history, considers also, in the fourth lec- ture, what were the predisposing causes and circumstances, by !, which Europe was particularly fitted for the important part which it has sustained in the great drama of the world. Of these it can only here be noticed, that the author undertakes to mark the local peculiarities which adapted Europe to be the scene of Xyio distinct systems of policy, such as have been described; a southern and principal one, composed of many nations, and a
174! Lectures on the Philosophy of Modem History.
more simple one in the north, formed of the few not included in the other ; and that the qualities of the several barbarian tribes, which broke into the western empire, are particularly examined, in reference to the results which they were fitted to produce in commixture with the corrupted sons of civilization.
In the actual review of history, for which all this preparation had been made, the author begins with the consideration of the Arabs, because that people acted upon Europe as an external power, and it is with him a favourite principle, that external agency is necessary to all political improvement. For the im provement of Europe a remarkable succession of agencies of this kind appears to have been provided. The Arabs acted upon its southern nations ; in the north the tribes of Tartary dis- charged the same necessary function ; and for the middle region the Turkish empire, in a more modern period, was a most useful agent of compression, as it excited the enterprises of the crusaders, propelled into the west the precious remains of Grecian learn- ing, and protected against the house of Austria the efforts of the German Protestants.
When the outward agency of the Arabs had been considered, Italy became naturally the first object of attention, not only as in that peninsula the principles of Roman improvement Avere chiefly to be found, but also because there an ecclesiastical dominion was erected, which, by its extended hierarchy, became the great bond of union to the nations of Europe in the middle ages. The formation of a system of balanced policy was, indeed, the grand improvement of its latest period, but many ages must have elapsed before such a system could even have been begun. It was necessary to the policy of Europe, that some pervading principle of union should be introduced among its states, before they should be distributed into contending combinations; and even these combinations, though mutually opposed, required that the component states should previously have contracted the habits of political cooperation. The papacy, therefore, with its attend- ants, the celibacy of the clergy and the institution of the monastic orders, are regarded by the author as auxiliary to the early im- provement of Europe,
" Tho divine Providence," he remarks, " has permitted that the Roman prelates should acquire a great political importance, especially in the earlier ages of the modern history of Europe ; and however the doctrines which they promulgated may have differed from the simple truths of the gospel, and the violence which they practised may have been at variance with its pacific forbearance, their political importance may have proved beneficial to society, as a wise Providence renders other human abases instrumental to its gracious purposes." •-
Lectures on the Philosophy of' Modern History. 175
In the remainder of the first and second volumes the histories of Italy, France, England, Germany, and Spain are traced to the commencement of the fourteenth century, as the time at \vhich Eui'ope began to recover from the barbarism and ignorance by which its powers had been long paralysed. The third and fourth are begun with a review of chivalry, the crusades, commerce, and learning during the same period ; they then proceed to trace to the commencement of the reformation the histories of the same countries, together with those of Swisserland, the northern coun- tries, and the new empires of Turkey and Persia; and they con- clude, with prosecuting to the same time, the review of commerce and learning, noticing also various occurrences of a miscellaneous nature, and particularly considering the predispositions to the reformation. In the fifth and sixth volumes tne review is con- tinued to the time of the British revolution, the sixth being wholly occupied with the histories of Great Britain and Ireland.
In these latter volumes the reformation is represented as sup- plying the principle of opposition, which chiefly distributed the states of Europe into two distinct combinations of political inter- ests, and on this account the distinctions of ecclesiastical parties are examined with some minuteness. The consideration of Cal- vinism is, indeed, as the author remarks, connected with his theory of history ; for, as he considers the providential govern- ment of God to be exercised by his foreknowledge of the conduct of free-agents, this theory is, in political philosophy, that which Arminianism is in theology.
In concluding his sixth volume, the author remarks, that,
" The general arrangement of the policy of the continent, and the special modifications of the BritisU government, were brought severally to a crisis at the same precise moment of time, and in the person of the same individual prince (the Prince of Orange;"^ so that it may he pronounced to have been a natural result that the two systems of move- ments should have been then blended into one : and the British government so regenerated, have been immediately constituted a prin- cipal agent in anew order of ])olitical relations. An nncient infidel," he afterwards observes, " is said to have been converted from atheism to a persuasion of the cxistonce and providence of God, by contem- plating the wonderful contrivance of the human skeleton. Here is before you the skeleton of a most interesting period of the history of your species. The living men, who were its muscles and its tendons, have long perished ; nothing remains except the dry and naked skeleton preserved in the records of a by-gone ago ; but in tbis you must behold an arrangement and an adaptation which bespeak a wisdom and a foresight far exceeding the speculations of the human intellect."
We conclude our analysis of this ingenious and interesting
176 Travels in Western Africa.
work, by recommending it most warmly to the student of history. The style is always perspicuous, and often elegant. And if at times the observations are rather too fanciful, they are still the fancies of a man of talent and learning ; whose mind is ever at work, and whose very dreams are instructive and entertaining.
Art. X — Travels in Western Africa, in the Years 1818, 19, 20, and 21, from the River Gambia through Woolli, Bondoo, Galam, Kasson, Kaarta, and FooUdoo, to the River Niger. By Major William Gray and the late Staff-Surgeon Dochard ; with a Map and Plates. London, 1825. Murray. 8vo. 18s.
" It was known at Senegal," says M. Mollien, (I. 37.) " that the failure of the attempts lately made by the English to pene- trate into the interior of Africa, was owing to the extravagant notions entertained by the negroes of the treasures conveyed by those travellers :'" and in order to obviate any difficulties of the same kind, he equipped himself with nothing but a scanty pro- vision of the merest necessaries for fifteen months, the period which he supposed his journey would occupy. The result of his own expedition showed that even his meagre pittance was sufficient to rouse the cupidity of the negroes ; and the work now lying before us, proves that the French at Senegal knew as little respecting the obstacles which really retarded the English travellers, as M. Mollien himself did, with regard to the difficulties and hazards which he had to encounter, or the resources which lay within his reach.
A sketcli of the original plan of the Mission, to which M. Mollien alludes, was given in the Life of Mungo Park, prefixed to the Narrative of his Second Journey in Africa, (II. 143.) It was derived from Park's own suggestions, upon which the Ministry had acted, when they despatched him on his last, and, as it turned out, fatal expedition. He had witnessed the journies of large " cafilahs, or caravans, passing through the territories of the negro chiefs on paying a small duty ;" and therefore " in- ferred that the march of a small party would excite no serious apprehension."" (lb. 149.) His subsequent experience seemed to confirm the correctness of his inferences, and sanguine hopes were entertained that " an expedition formed and conducted upon such principles (with a due attention to the proper season for travelling) would be attended with ultimate success."
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How lamentably those expectations have been frustrated is well known to all who take any interest in the progress of African discovery; and the melancholy conclusion of Major Gray's disastrous tale had long been a matter of notoriety before the publication of his narrative. Still, however, there was some anxiety to hear the details of his journey, and the very protrac- tion or his residence among tribes imperfectly known, had greatly increased his opportunities of studying their habits and manners, as well as the country which they occupy. How far those opportunities were turned to good account will best appear from an abstract of his book.
It presents the result of the observations made not only ])y himself, but also by the other officers employed in this service ; and may be considered as containing all the information collected during the course of the exjiedition commenced under the com- mand of Major Peddie, in 1815, and terminated in 1821.
That enterprising officer, who reached the mouth of the Sene- gal in November 1815, accompanied by Captain Campbell and Staff-Surgeon Cowdrey, (already distinguished as the explorer of some unknown tracts in Africa,) was not destined to acfvance beyond the shores of the continent, the inmost recesses of which he hoped to visit : unforeseen obstacles checked his progress at the outset, and Sir Charles McCarthy, Governor of Sierra Leone, concurred Avith him in thinking it necessary to put off* his departure till the following season. A short time after his return from that colony, Mr. Cowdrey, to use the words of Major Gray, " took ill, and in a few days fell a victim to the climate." This loss was the more irreparable, as that gentleman was not only of great importance to the Mission, on account of his medical skill; but was peculiarly adapted to promote its scientific objects by " his invaluable services as a naturalist and astronomer."
To supply the vacancy occasioned by Mr. Cowdrey's death, at least m the capacity of a medical officer. Major Gray (who was not, as he informs us in his preface, (vii,) " born in the camp, nor altogether educated in the field,") was induced to listen to an application from Major Peddie, though he felt, as he modestly remarks, that he " possessed few of the qualifica- tions requisite to the dischar'^e of so important a situation."
According to the original plan, the expedition was to have proceeded along the Senegal, Ba Lee, and Ba Woolima, and then crossed over to the Joliba at its junction with the Ba Beely ; and with that view. Lamina, a native of Sego, was despatched by Major Peddie, soon after his arrival on the coast, to apprize the King of Bambarra of his intended visit, and to request him
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to send some of his chiefs to Senegal, in order to accompany the British Mission to his capital. This messenger promised to return with the king's answer in three months. It may be inferred from the context, though not distinctly affirmed, that Lamina set oiF in February, 3816; some surprise therefore must be felt on our learning in the next page, that in the follow- ing month, long before the result of his journey could be known, Major Peddie had resolved to change his route and take " the path through Foota Jallon."' It is true that the middle of the ensuing November was the period fixed for the departure of the Mission from the Senegal, which left an interval of six months after the time, at which Lamina was expected back again ; but still they were exposed to the unfavourable impression which so sudden a change of their plans might produce on the minds of the negro chiefs.
They did not, in fact, quit the Senegal till the 1 7th of No- vember, 1816, when the whole party, under the command of Major Peddie, consisting of Captain Campbell, Major Gray, Mr. Adolphus Kummer, the, naturalist, a German, and M. Partarieau,* " a native of Senegal, possessing considerable know- ledge of the Arabic and Moorish languages, with some of the native African tongues," together with a hundred men, mihtary and civil, {civilians as Major Gray conveniently terms them,) and a train of two hundred beasts of burden, set sail, and, after a short stay at Goree, where they were joined by a vessel having on board some horses and mules, and a tedious passage from thence of sixteen days, reached Kakundy, a slave-factory on the eastern bank of the Rio Nuniez. On the 14th of December all were landed and encamped " on an elevated piece of ground cleared for the purpose and overlooking the factory ;" but the woods and mud on the banks of a tide-river are always pestiferous in a tropical climate ; it was therefore found necessary to move higher up on the 24feh ; and on that day poor Peddie was assailed by a violent attack of fever, which preyed upon him with little intermission till he expired on the 1st of January, 1817.
Thus, within the short space of fourteen months, was the expedition deprived of both the officers to whom the direction of it had been originally intrusted, and all the flattering anticipa- tions derived from their known talents and qualifications were stifled almost in their birth.
On the very day before this melancholy event took place, Lieutenant Stokoe, R.N. and Hospital -Assistant Nelson, arrived from Sierra Leone to join the mission, accompanied by two gen-
• Or Partarrieu.
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tlemen from the colony ; one of whom, Lieutenant M'Rae, of the Royal African Corps, immediately volunteered to join the expe- dition, and was allowed by Sir Charles McCarthy to proceed, notwithstanding the garrison could ill dispense with his services. On the 1st of February, 1817, the convalescents (i. e. nearly all the Europeans) were considered as capable of moving forwards; the march was therefore commenced, and though continued for only four hours, proved to be " most fatiguing." Lieutenant Stokoe was added to the sick-list on the 2d, and on that day the whole corps received a sad discomfiture from an enemy for whom they were quite unprepared.
*' Wo left Hairimakona," says Major Gray,C9,) '•\Q.i two p. m. and got on tolerably well, until we arrived at a difficult pass in a wood, where those in trout disturbed a swarm of bees, which made so violent an attack both on men and animals, that all were thrown into confusion. On my being made acquainted with the cause, I considered it a very frivolous excuse for allowing the horses and asses to run about in all directions, throwing off their loads; and was reprimanding the men for their carelessness, when I was attacked by so dense a swarm of those insects, that I was obliged to retreat, and suffer the mortification of exhibiting myself in the same predicament with those I had just been reproving. It was sunset before the bees dispersed, or we could collect the animals, many of whom suffered severely from the bees get- ting into thoir eyes, ears, and nostrils ; one of our best hordes died on the spot, and some of the asses were unablo to rise from the ground."
Had not the Major, who " reached the shores of Africa, in his tour of service, well remembering, on his passage the labours and researches of the informed and the brave," (Pref viii,) unhappily forgotten, on that occasion, what he had read with so much atten- tion, he would probably have remembered Mungo Park's (II. 48,) distress from a similar cause, and would have escaped the ludi- crous predicament in which he was placed, as he justly observes, by his unlucky reproofs.
On the 7th, they were joined by a messenger, who had been despatched in the preceding August to inform the Imam (Alimamf, in the language of the negroes) of Timbo of their approach.
This man was accompanied by Abdu '1 Hamid, one of the Imam's brothers, who informed Captain Campbell, who had suc- ceeded to the command, that it was " Alimamy's orders that a white man should be sent in advance to Teembo, to explain to him the object they had in view in entering his dominions;"" and " that he forbad their nearer approach until he should be perfectly satisfied on that head." Instead of sending a white man, or allowing Major Gray to accompany Abii Bakari, the chief sent
M 2
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by Abdu '1 I^amid. Captain Campbell contented himself with despatching one of his native sergeants ; thus, in his first commu- nication with the native powers, disregarding a reqviisition which was far from unreasonable, and neglecting to avail himself of the assistance which his officers would gladly have afforded.
The party had now reached the Tingalinta River, at that place 110 feet wide; and where they had an opportunity of examining a specimen of native ingenuity, which would alone be sufficient to prove (if proof were wanting) that the negroes are not quite such incorrigible blockheads as some writers would fain make us believe. It was " a swinging bridge composed of cane and bark ropes, by which it was attached, at about twenty-four feet above the water, to the branches of the trees which grew on the banks, and afforded, during the rainy season and periodical floods, a safe, though, apparently, slight and tottering passage for people on foot." Of this bridge a plate is given. It bears some resemblance to the J'hulas or suspension bridges of the Hindus, over the torrents which sweep through the ravines of Himalaya, (As. Res. XI. 475,) but is far lesslngenious and artifi- cial in its structure ; while, on the other hand, it appears superior to thatwhich was thrown over the Ba Wulimaby the Mandingoes for Park (IT. 147-9.)
Notwithstanding the prohibition of the Imam, to advance without his further orders, Captain Campbell proceeded as fast as bad roads and tardy followers would suffer him, and when a division of the paths occurred, he determined to follow that which led to Labe, in direct opposition to the wishes of Abdu '1 Hamid. The country through which they had passed was hilly and rugged ; sometimes presenting stony, unproductive plains : more frequently rocky ascents divided by rich vallies. Their cattle, unshod and unused to any soil but a level sand, soon sunk under the difficulty of the road, and on the 20th of February, barely three weeks after they set out, they " decided on abandoning their two small field gvms, witli their shot and grape, and having buried them about three feet beneath the surface, made a fire to conceal where the ground had been broken." (18.) An idle precau- tion, since Abdu 1 Hamid, who ivas with them, could scarcely fail to know the place, and the treasures deposited there.
■ " Captain Campbell," says Major Gray, (ib.) " (bought it better to dispose of them in that way than to make a present of them to Ahnamy ; for although it was not likely that he could make any use of tliom, yet the very- circumstance alone of possessing such deslruclive engines, and of having received them from us, might induce these nations with whom he occasionally wages war (and through which we were likely to travel) to entertain unfavourable opix)ions of uSi"ot ijrtfi ^siitai
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, On the same principle they ought not to have given away a gi;ia pr a pistol, and however imprudent it might have been to make such splendid and unexpected presents in an early sta^e of their journey, what was more likely to secure the goodwill or the Imam of Fiita JalJon at once, than a gift which showed so much confidence in his friendly intentions ? Is it not probable that by thus making a virtue of necessity, the objects of the Mission would have been effectually promoted, and that jealousy removed which, not long afterwards, drove them out of the country.
In the beginning of March, a dearth of provisions began to be felt ; fresh delays were occasioned by the Imam's signifying that he must consult his chiefs, before he could consent to their passage through his territories ; and Captain Campbell again sent one of his black sergeants, instead of an European officer, to treat with his sable majesty. A scarcity of provisions, and illnesses from eating unripe fruit, were added to the misery which their present suspense occasioned. The Imam was either dissatisfied with the quality of the agent, or the presents sent to him, and nearly three weeks after the commencement of these negotiations. Sergeant Tuft, the person despatched to the royal camp, sent to advise Captain Campbell, either to come himself, or send some of his officers as soon as possible, to convince the Imam and his ministers of his real intentions. Captain Campbell therefore repaired to the royal residence, and the result of his visit was, that as the Imam could not be responsible for their safety, while hp was absent on a foreign campaign, they must remain in the neighbourhood of Labe till his return ; soon afterwards some of their followers were dismissed, others ran away, and as eighty-five of their beasts had died, they could not move till provided with carriers, by order of the chief of the district where they were. A scarcity of provisions and its consequence, sickness, quickly ensued, and on the 28th April, Lieutenant Stokoe and Mr. Kummer set out for the coast, conveyed in cradles made of cane, being already too ill to have any immediate hope of recovery.
*' On the 2d May, Lamina, accompanied by Abou Ilararala, one of the chiefs, and a long train of attendants, came to the camp, and in- formed Captain Campbell that Alraaniy had given jicrmission to Lamina, in consequence of his being the messenger of the King of Sogd. to con- duct thorn through the country by whatever pathhcchoso, and had also given directions to Abou Hararata to collect carriers lor tlie conveyance of their baggage. " Nothing, however," s.ays JMajorGra;^-, "could be ob- tained from them but promises which they never intended performing."
Captain Campbell, therefore, who was now very ill, determined to retrace his steps, and regain the coast before the rains set in.
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The Imam, in answer to a messenger informing him of this deter- mination, replied, " that it was not his desire to do so, as his country was open to them in any way tliey wished,"
On the 18th May, with much difficulty, they mustered a sufficiency of carriers to enable them to set out ; " their retreat was far more painful and difficult than their advance," and on the second day of their march, Major Gray was himself reduced by illness to a state of insensibility to the objects around him, in which he continued till the J st of June. They had then reached Robugga, a factory on the Rio Nuniez, and he was informed when he had recovered his powers of perception, that Mr. Kummer had fallen a victim to the climate, and that Lieutenant Stokoe had returned to Sierra Leone ; Captain Campbell, though some- what better, was still in an alarming state of debility ; on the 1.2th Major Gray found that he had lost the use of his speech, and on the 13th he expired, almost on the very spot where he had so lately committed to the ground the remains of his friend and associate Major Peddie, beside which his own were deposited on the following day !
As soon as the sick were sufficiently recovered to join the rest of the party, the whole were removed to Sierra Leone^ which they did not reach till almost all their cattle were dead, and their provisions nearly exhausted.
Lieutenant Stokoe, on whom the command now devolved, made a further attempt to secure the assistance of the Imam of Fiita Jallon. He travelled " in the depth of the rainy season to Timbo," but had the mortification of being obliged to return without having effected his purpose, and not long afterwards was seized with an illness which carried him off in a few days.
Thus terminated the first period of this ill-fated enterprise, in which, however we must admire the resolution and perseverance of the principal actors, we cannot but lament a want of judgment and discretion, which seems sometimes to have created the impediments by which they were opposed, by augmenting the jealousy which the approach of so numerous a body under the direction of Europeans, could hardly fail to occasion ; so that Sir Walter Scott's judicious objections to the scheme when first mentioned by Park, were completely established, — " the number of men employed, though inadequate for conquest, or even for serious defence, was yet large enough to excite suspicion." (Life of Park, 11. clviii.) And it is to be regretted that the survivors, instead of persevering in the original plan, the inexpedience of which had by that time been sufficiently manifested, did not reduce the number of their attendants, so as to form a body which could neither give umbrage nor excite cupidity.
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The second of the four journeys to which this expedition gave rise, was commenced under the command of Major Gray and Mr. Dochard in the middle of December 1817. Evil fortune still attended their labours; they were kept out at sea by con- trary winds, for nearly a month, and did not reach the Gambia till the 13th of January, 1818. A difficulty in procuring horses, or other beasts of burden, detained ihem at Bathurst till the 3d of March, and on that day they embarked on the Gambia, which they ascended as far as Kayaye, (Kaye 13° 20' N. 14" 80' W.) whence their journey by land was commenced on the 27th. They met with no material impediment till they reached Madinah (the city) capital of WuUi, where the caprice and avarice of a drunken king, and the insolence of his son, gave them some embarrassment and uneasiness.
In consequence of a representation made by Lamina, the guide from Sego, Major Gray had resolved to follow the road through Bondu and Fula-du, as the only secure route, and that in which he would meet with persons subject to the king of Bambarra. No serious illness nor other disaster had occurred when, on issuing from the depopulated district between Sansanding and Sabi, the frontier towns of Wulii and Bondu, they entered the latter kingdom.
They were told, indeed, on passing the frontier, that they would not be allowed to advance, without an especial permission from the Imam, or (sovereign of the country;) this information, however, was disregarded as groundless: arid ten days afterwards Mr. Dochard was despatched with one of the Sego agents, to make arrangements for their protection and support while tra- velling through Bondu. He returned in a few clays with a very civil message from the Imam, whom he had not seen, and a request that they would halt a few days, till he could come to see them.
*' Tbo prospect of being thus delayed, even for a few days, as I then thought," says Major Gray, (111,) " was irksome in the extreme, as the rains were fast approaching, and, in the space of another month, travel- ling would become, if not wholly impossible, at least very difficult and dangerous."
This was on the 21st of May ; and ten weeks had been already taken up by their journey from Bathurst, through an interval of only 4^ of longitude ; while the distance between their station at that time, and Sego, amounted to at least 10*^ : could Major Gray, then, suppose that he sliould be able to advance much further before the rains would set in ? And where could he pass the rainy season to more advantage than in the neighbourhood
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of the Senegal, and under the protection of a chief at peace Ijoth with the Europeans on the coast, and the sovereign of the country to which he was travelling ? His mind appears to have • been at this time in a continual ferment ; his progress had not been so rapid as he expected ; his cattle had suffered greatly from want of rest ; some of his party had been attacked by fever, and he was beginning perhaps to apprehend a repetition of the miseries he had experienced.in another of the Fula kingdoms.
"Since our arrival here," ho says, (111,) "we were beset by a m»l- titude of beggars of all descriptions. Princes and their wivas without number came to make us trifling presents, with the hope of receiving in return doable their value; and thcirattendants were not less troublesorne. Goulabs, or singing-people, who in Africa always flock around those who have any thing to give, no doubt thought this a good opportunity to turn to good account their abilities in music, and we vvere conti- nually annoyed by their horrid noise. Dozens of them would, at the same moment, set up a sort of roaring extempore song in our praise, accompanied by drums, and a sort of guitar, and we found it impossible to get rid of them by any other means than giving something. They were not, however, to be put off with a trifle. People who lived by that sort of gain, and not unfrequently received from their own chiefs presents to the amount of several slaves, were not be putotf witli trifles, particularly by persons with (apparently to them) so much riches as we had. The consequence was, we were in a continual state of uproar with those wretches. Never did I find my patience so much tired as on these, pccasions."
It appears, not long afterwards, that nothing was to be done without a sufficient douceur, and that the Imam's good-will, no less than that of his subjects, depended upon the liberality with which the white man fee'd him. On the IGth of June, after endless delays and artifices for the purpose of squeezing out more presents, they at last obtained a guide — but only through Kasson, which was not the route they wished to follow ; having, in the mean time, suffered much from sickness and a scarcity of provisions. In two days they reached Bulibani, the capital, Avhere they were very civilly received, some of the king's wives seixling them, " shortly after their arrival, two or three large calabashes full of fine milk and cous cous, which was not at all a despicable present." Here they had again to wait for a guide ; for though we read, a page or two before, that the Imam had granted one, it appears that at Bulibani, he was still to be sought; and when he had been appointed, and they were on the point of setting off", a message from court informed them that as llie peod e o^^Jarm, j|^^ (^^t^p(jed,,,!?ev)^wl of the towns, of
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Kasson, the passage through it was most hkely no longer 'prac- ticable. It was in vain that Major Gray offered to run any risk, and take all responsibility on himself; the Im;im was inflexible in his regard for their safety, but it appeared from some broad hints thrown out, by one of his sons, tnat his inflexibility might be relaxed by larger presents.
No small trouble and negotiation >'as also requisite to obtain leave for the Mission to remove from the capital, and establish itself at Samba Oonte, only fifteen miles from Bakel, on the Senegal. This was at length effected on tlie 17th of July, 1817. The rains, which commenced early in June, had now completely set in, and the effects of this change in the atmosphere had for some time been felt ; — " Mr, Burton, and Mr. Nelson, and nearly all the Europeans, were labouring under fever and dysentery;" and the former died on the 19th, only two days after their en- campment at Samba Conte. On the 9th of August, Mr. Nelson, who had gradually sunk imder his malady, and had for three days been " a complete inanimate skeleton,*" breathed his last, and added one more to the long list of victims to this destructive climate.
Major Gray, in the mean time, anxious to announce his ap- proach to the King of Barbarra, despatched Mr. Dochard (who wished to proceed (m that service, and was then the only oflicer in the party capable of imdertaking it) on a mission to Seg(S, accompanied by a guide and a messenger from the Imam. '1 he result of this Mission, which brought another European to the banks of the Niger, is given in a subsequent part of the volume before us, and forms the third of the journeys performed by Major Gray and his companions.
Every thing went on smoothly till the beginning of Octol^r, when a line Arabian mare having been purchased by Major Gray, an exorbitant demand was made for duty, though such charges did not appear to be usual ; and on its being resisted, the natives were forbidden to supply him with provisions. After many fruitless explanations and complaints, it was found expe- dient to compromise the business, by paying as a duty legally demanded, nearly double the sum paid for the mare.
In the latter end of October, the decrease of the rains had a very beneficial effect on the health of the invalids ; and the arrival of a French fleet at Galam, on the Senegal, contributed largely to the comfort and security of the party. No serious incon- veniences seem to have been now experienced ; but the absence of M. Partaricau, and the want of those supplies for which he had been despatched to St. Louis, prevented the Mission from moving forwards. On the 8th of January, 1819, the Imam
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Amadi, (Ahmed,) who was old, and had in fact been long in a dechning state, died. His successor, Musa Yeoro, received Major Gray '* with marked hospitality and attention," and made, of his own accord, the most flattering promises ; but about the middle of February he compelled him to come into the im- mediate neighbourhood, of Bullbani, the capital, on the old plea of anxiety for the safety of his guests ; incursions of the Kartan army were, he said, hourly expected; he could not therefore answer for the security of the white men while removed so far from his protection.
On the 6th of May, M. Partarieau at length returned from St. Louis, with the stores and presents promised to the late, and covenanted for by the present Imam. On the 9th the Imam signed an agreement, (Appendix VI. 372,) in compliance with an application from Major Gray, containing, among other ^ demands^ one which required him (Major Gray) to make certain presents to the Imam. All seemed now to be settled, but the negro chief insisted on the Mission's taking one path, and Major Gray was resolved to take another. Something like a threat of hosti- lities ensued, and the Major, as a ruse-de-guerre, declared it to be his resolution to return to the Senegal through Futa Toro, to the north west, hoping to work his way eastward when no longer under the immediate observation of the Imam of Bondii.
This retreat was a series of disasters; the treachery of the guides, together with continual attempts by some of the Imam's satellites to intimidate and check the progress of the travellers, operated as such a stimulus to the inhospitable and pilfering propensities of the populace, as could only be counteracted by the utmost determination and caution. Futa Toro, through a part of which they were obliged to pass on their way to the Senegal, was then in a state of complete anarchy, in consequence of an interreg- num occasioned by the death of the Imam or Sovereign; and as soon as the Mission set foot on this territory, it felt the effect of such a state of misrule. The different chiefs in the neighbourhood, seemed inchned to determine by blows who should have the honour of escorting through the country: i. e. who should have the privilege of fleecing strangers at his pleasure : and one of these worthies fairly blockaded their camp for two or three days, in order to force their acceptance of his protection. To rescue his party from this dilemma. Major Gray made a forced march by night to Bakel on the Senegal, and on the following day, the 11th June 1819, returned with twenty-five or twenty-six men and a supply of water ; but when only three or four miles from his encampment, he most unaccountably stopped short, lest he " should reach the camp at too early an hour;" and by so doing
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was caught in a heavy tornado, which gave some of his bullock- drivei's an opportunity of making off with their cattle. When daylight returned, in addition to a thorough drenching, he had the mortification of discovering that Partarieau and his men had decamped ; and just as he was entering the village where they were, the natives " attempted to tear the clothes oflp his men's backs and their arms out of their hands." This sort of treat- ment was too rough to be borne with sang-froid. A skirmish therefore ensued ; but as the arms of Major Gray's men (now reduced to eleven) were rendered almost useless by the drenching of the preceding night, the enemy were too much for them. The chief of this rabble, however, came forward, and offering his hand to the Major, " said that if he would go quietly with him, no one should molest him," — a promise which he had scarcely the power of performing.
Instead of allowing his prisoner (for such Major Gray now was) to join his ])arty, as he had promised, this worthy (the same as had blockaded ihem before) compelled him to go to his own village, and did not release him till the fourth day, when he again found Partarieau had decamped, contrary to his expect- ations: but instead of pushing forwards ttjwards Bakel, whither he supposed his party to be gone, he returned to his old foe and blockader, apprehensive of worse treatment elsewhere. — Civil promises were made, as usual, but no guide was furnished till the third day, nor could the Major regain his party at Bakel till the 22d June, 1819. The French officers stationed there received him on this, as on former occasions, with the most cordial welcome. It is indeed highly satisfactory to observe, that the national animosities which have so often embittered the inter- course between the naval and military men in our own and the French service, seem to have been entirely forgotten on the banks of the Senegal.
The rains had now completel}^ set in, and the losses ex- perienced in the retreat of the Mission from Bondu rendered it impossible as well as imprudent to make any further attempts to advance eastwards, till both men and stores had been sufficiently recruited.
The reader has thus been furnished with as comprehensive and as brief a summary of the incidents of these disastrous journeys, as the limits necessarily assigned to this article, and the number of events crowded within so short a period would allow; and if, as we suspect, he feels as we do ourselves, he will readily pardon our only adding a very hasty sketch of the two remaining acts in the tragedy. They are in fact little more than a repetition of the same tissue of broken promises and petty perfidies; of
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wearisome suspense and fruitless labours, as, throughout the preceding part of the narrative, so often fill the mind with disgust and contempt for one party, and regret on account of the unmerited sufferings of the other. Our admiration of the patience and resolution which bore up so long against an almost unin- terrupted series of disappointments, contrasts too strongly with the feelings excited by the meanness and falsehood which appear on the other side of the picture, not to leave the mind Avearied by the struggle of conflicting emotions, rather than cheered, as it ought to be, by the honour thus reflected upon our national character.
Futa Toro, as has been already mentioned, was in a state of interregnum when Major Gray passed through the skirts of it, in May and June 1819, and to that circumstance the ill treat- ment which his party experienced, is to be ascribed : for as soon as the other chiefs heard of those proceedings, they sent messengers to him at Bakel, requesting a detailed account of his losses, and promising restitution, a promise which, it should be observed, was duly performed with regard to the most essential articles ; not, in the author's estimation, from any regard for justice and the rights of others, but solely from jealousy of the chief who had thus maltreated him. A general sickness, in some cases fatal, which, as usual, marked the rainy season ; intestine wars and jealousies between the French and the native chiefs, which occasioned a difficulty in procuring provisions ; and an unusual detention of the flotilla from Senegal, all combined to render Major Gray's position irksome, and to prevent his making any except a retrograde movement. At length, on the tiOth May, 1820, he received intelligence of Mr. Dochard's return from Bambarra, and on the 7th June he had the happiness of finding him arrived at Fort St. Joseph, but so reduced by a protracted attack of dysentery, that his re- covery appeared hopeless. These apprehensions, however, proved to be erroneous, and by the kind assistance of the officers of a French gun-brig, lying oft' the Fort, IVIr. Dochard was immediately conveyed to Bakel, when his convalescence was greatly retarded by frequent attacks of fever. On the 21st September the long looked for flotilla arrived, but without bringing the necessary supplies ; Major Gray therefore resolved to retain only fifteen of his men, and sent all the rest under the direction of Messrs. Dochard and Partarieau, back to the coast. He determined with his own small party, to make one more effort towards the completion of the objects of the Mission; and Mr. Dochard, notwithstanding his sufferings and debilitated state of health, expressed a strong desire to accompany him,
Travels in Western Africa. 189
which he very properly refused to allow. It is worthy of remark that almost all his men *' volunteered to accompany him to the very last moment:" and he mentions two of those whomhe selected, Serjeant Major Lee and Charles Joe, (a mulatto,) in the highest terms of coriimendation. On tlie SOtli of September, 1820, the flotilla set sail for St. Louis, and on the 16di of November, Major Gray and his little party set out for Karta, through which he hoped to penetrate into Bambarra — but at Fort St. Josepii, on the southern bank of the Senegal, which they reached on the 19th, they were obliged to wait till the 28th of January, 1821, when a messenger from Modiba, king of Kiirta, came to inform him that he could not travel by the direct road, as it was infested by hostile tribes. He was also compelled to wait for the return of the said guide with an escort, ana it was not until the 1 8th of March that he was allowed to proceed with a party which had been making a plundering incursion into tlie territories of Bondu. After uuml)erless delays and impediments, during which he could never obtain any direct access to the king, who had been persuaded by his marabuts " that should he ever look upon a white man he must die," Major Gray was at length sunercd to join a party of Bangassi people : but on his way to the frontiers, he was detained at Sanjarra by an order from the king, " who had been assured by good authority that he had with him an ass-load of silver.""
After a week's detention, this difficulty was surmounted, pro- tection to the frontiers Mas promised, and the travellers proceeded on their way ; two days afterwards, however, one of the princes met them on liis return from Fula-du, a part of which he had been plundering, and he forbad their farther progress, alleging, that as all the towns on the frontiers had been destroyed, it would be impossible for the travellers to subsist. Remonstrances were vain ; the prince told him very plainly, that force would be used if he refused to obey ; he therefore, though very unwillingly, retraced his steps. He was subsequently com])elled to remove to Munia, (nearer to the capital,) and fairly plundered, on the pretence of his not having paid the usual duties; nor was he al- lowed to depart till the 8th of June, when no escort was sent to accompany him ; though he had been kept there, solely on the plea of the king's inability to furnish one, and his unwilling- ness to expose him to the risk of travelling without such pro- tection.
On the 18th of August he reached Galam, but in consequence of intestine hostihties, and a quarrel between the French and the natives, the route by land was no longer open ; nothing could be done> therefore, till die flotilla arrived ; nor was it till the 24th of September, that Major Gray and his party could set off for
190 Travels in Western Africa.
St. Louis, which they reached in a steam-boat on the 8th of Oc- tober; and in the following month, the Major proceeded by Goree and Bathurst, on the Gambia, to Sierra Leone, thus ter- minating his arduous and unwearied, but unsuccessful attempts, to penetrate into the interior of Africa.
The fact of Mr. Dochard's having been civilly received by the king of Bambarra, announced with some exultation, in the Quarterly Review, for July 1820, (No. XLV. vol. 23, p. 241,) raised an expectation in the public mind which was never to be gratified ; for that unfortunate traveller returned home Mdth a shattered constitution, and did not live long enough to finish the narrative, from which the extracts here given con- tain little more than a list of vexations and disappointments.
He left the encampment at Samba Conte, on the ' 23d of July, 1818, with ten men, (eight of whom were soldiers,) Lamina, and two other natives. (136.) He crossed the Ea-leme at Nayer, thirty-four miles to the S. E. of the cantonment, on the 27th, and reached Mamier, the residence of a prince of Kasson, on the 1st of August. There he was detained till the 17th, under the persuasion that he would purchase a licence to depart by larger presents ; the rains and swollen state of the rivers running northwards into the Senegal, afterwards arrested his progress from the 21st till the 25th. Nor could he reach the Ba-fing, in consequence either of similar impediments, or of swamps and tornadoes, till the 1st of September. Of his proceedings from that time till the 9th of November, no account is given, except that on that day, he reached Dhaba,- a town of Bambarra, whence he dispatched Lamina and one of his men, to announce his arrival to the king. On the 21st, his messenger returned with information that the death of Lamina's brother, the king's treasurer, had prevented his business from being despatched ; and on the 11th of January, 1819, he received an order from the king to wait at Ko, near the confluence of the Ba-b^li and the JaUi-ba, (Niger,) where he then was, " till he should see peo- ple from him," (253 ;) but no such people came till the 14th of February ; and when his presents had been examined and ap- proved, they declared that it was the king''s pleasure that he should repair to Bamaku, and remain there till his majesty's final determination respecting the white men should be known. Finding that no remonstrances would be listened to, he complied without further hesitation ; and ascending the river as far as it was navigable, landed at a small distance from the appointed ^ place, which he reached on the 21st or 22d. About two months afterwards, (on the 25th of April,) he received the letters sent off by Major Gray in the preceding September. Of his occupations
Travels v\ Western Africa. tdl
during his residence at Bamaku, or of the incidents which oc- curred in the course of his retreat, nothing is here said ; we merely learn that he reached Fort St. Joseph, on the 4th of June, 1821, in the alarming state of health already mentioned. He had made repeated applications for leave to proceed to Sego, but was always informed " that until the war was terminated, Dha (J a) could not allow them to pass." (272.) As that event was very uncertain, for success had hitherto been on the side of the Fiilas of Mas- sina, with whom the Bambarrans were then engaged, the progress of the Mission might be stopped for an indefinite period ; Major Gray, therefore, gave up all hope of advancing beyond Sego, for the present, but despatched one of his men, a native of Nyamina, with a merchant named Yusuf, (Joseph,) engaged in a trading voyage to that capital, to apologize for Mr. Dochard's return without leave, ana to request a specific declaration of the king's intentions with regard to himself, as soon as possible. (274.)
It now remains to lay before our readers the substance of such notices respecting the history, civil and natural, of the countries visited by the Mission, as are scattered through different parts of Major Gray's volume. As that gentleman appears not to be himself a naturalist, the former are very scanty ; on the latter he is rather more copious, and his information will fill up some gaps in our knowledge of this part of Africa.
The routes of Major Gray and his companions are marked upon the map prefixed to his work, and were placed no doubt in the hands of the artist by whom it was constructed. These routes are not even alludea to in the book itself; and, as was before observed, but for the map, we should not have known that Mr. Dochard left a single memorandum respecting his return. Geographical inquiries do not appear to have formed a part of Major Gray's pursuits, for excepting the occasional mention of the course of a river, or the direction of the road, and one solitary memorandum of the observed latitude of a place, — whore a most extraordinary typographical error occurs, — there is nothing like a remark strictly geographical in the whole volume. As the author did not engage in the Mission, professing to undertake that part of the duties annexed to it, no blame can attach to him for not having touched upon a subject in which he perhaps took no interest ; but it is to be regretted that he did not suggest to the gentleman whom he employed to construct his map, the pro- priety of adding a brief statement of the alterations introduced, and the materials from wliich they are derived. Being kept so entirely in the dark as to the data on which the disput- able positions rest, it would be precipitate to pass any judgment upon the real merits of this compilation; but it may not be
192 Travels in Western Africa,
amiss to observe that we felt some surprise on seeing the, heads of the Senegal and Gambia precisely where they were placed by Major llennell in his Map of Park's last Journey, though M. Mollien was assured by the natives of Futa Jallon, that they are in the central ridge of hills near Timbo, a fact which appears from this very map to have been confirmed by the inquiries of the British Mission with respect to the Ba-Fing.* The head of the Niger, in like manner, maintains its old position, though Major Laing's information shows that it must be nearly in 9" 25' N. and 9° 45' W.— about 5° W. and nearly 2" S. of the position assigned by Major llennell; and only 1'=' N. and 25' W. of that given by M. Eyries. Timbuktu is brought about one degree more to the West, as was also done in Major Renneli's Map of North Africa^ published in 1802, but its lati- tude is the same as in the Map of Park's Route. M. Walcke- naer, however, has given some cogent reasons (Recherches Geo- graphiques sur I'Afrique. Paris, 1821 . p. 289.) for placing it in 17^ 38' N. and O'^ 22' W. If it be alleged, in reply, that his data are too hypothetical, what shall we say to the Rivers Gozen Zair of Sidi Hamet, and Bahar el Ahmar el Zahara, which figure in the map before us ? We believe M. Walckenaer"'s data will be found to be far less doubtful than the reports of Sidi Hamet and Adams ; the name of the latter river, moreover, is due only to an ingenious conjecture of Burckhardt's ; Le Mar Zarra was the name mentioned by Adams, which may be Berber, or Tim- buktu wa, or Mandingo, or Fula, or any thing but Arabic, which Burckhardt supposed it to be, for aught yet known to the con- trary. A geographer who has the improvement of knowledge really at heart, will be careful with respect to the names, as well as the positions, which he adopts, and will look to the accuracy of his engraver, lest those who use his maps, should be misled by orthographical errors, a fault too often to be found in the maps of the late Mr. Arrowsmith. In the map before us, no- thing but the place and direction of the streams crossing the routes is marked ; this is a circumstance highly praiseworthy ; and it would have been well if the mountains had been laid down with as scrupulous a regai'd to positive data. Few things have led to more errors in geography than a want of discretion
• Timbo, which Major Rennell placed in 10° N. and 10" W., has here travelled a degree further to the west, und a few minutes more to the fouth, as nearly as possible to the place assigned toit by M.Ejries (Mollien, II. 315:) and in all the points, where the route of the Mission coincided withliiat of the French traveller, their observations have shown the correctness of bis ; why then refuse to give him credit for those points wbicb they had no opportunity of verifying, such us the course of the Rio Grand, &c. ?
Travels in fVesiern Africa. 199
in this respect : even Major Rennell seems to have been en- trapped into the belief of a central belt traversing Africa, though there was no evidence whatever of a junction between the Kong Mountains and those of the Moon, wliich are now known to be entirely distinct from each other. In the map annexed to Major Gray's book, the former have been very properly terminated in about So W. where our evidence as to their course fails.
The tribes and nations visited by the Mission, such as the Nalus and Vagres, between the Rio Grande and the Rio Pongas, are named in the map, though not mentioned in the book. Of the Bagu's or Bagos, liowever, who lived on the banks of the Rio Pongas, (Pougomo of Danville, and Pogono of older geogra- phers,) he says, (5) the men have an extremely savage appearance, though strong and well formed. A broad girdle of cotton cloth forms their whole clothing ; cut teeth and tattooed breasts and arms, with tufts of grass in holes round the edges of the ear, distinguish the well dressed among the men, while the women, unlike their sisters in Europe, seem too frugal or t(X) philo- sophical to lose any time at their toilet, and wear nothing but knee-bands and anclets of grass rope, besides the bandage which covers their loins. Copper nose-nngs are the only articles of dress worn by the children of either sex. Their houses, of which a sketch is given, are about sixteen feet high, and divided by a partition of split cane into two apartments, one of which is a store-room, the other occupied by tne family. In front is a large open gallery or veranda, and the whole is thatched with palm leaves. These dwellings, inartificial as they are, go one step beyond the cylindrical huts with conical roofs, which are found in the interior, from Fiita Jallon toLitakun, and are, as M. Mollien observes, (I. 273.) a proof that their inhabitants once lived in tents. The bee-hive huts of the Hottentots and Boschjesmans seem to be the lowest step in African architecture.
Of Futa Jallon, or Dyallon, the first territory of any extent which the Mission entered, a larger account is given ; and the principal circumstances mentioned were already in part known from the reports of Mollien and Major Laing. 1 his country is now governed by Fiila chiefs, and the traditions respecting their origin, collected by M. Mollien, are confirmed in tneir most material points by Messrs. Laing and Gray.
" The Fulas or F616s." (Fullias, Pholeys, or Ponies), says M. Mollien, (1. 273.) "anciently inhabited the fertile countries situated in the northern pait of Africa, perhaps Numidia. The form of their huts shows that they were a migratory people, living under tents. The Yolofs, also, inhabited that part of the African continent, but were, Ibelieye, more of a sedentary people." 4.. .- ttii,"/*- jSssi^-"
VOL. I. o
194 Travels in Western Africa.
These nations, he supposes, were driven by the incursions of the Arabs into the countries beyond the Sahra (Zahara) or Desert ; where they found a negro race, the Serrers, estabhshed on the banks of the Senegal, who fled " at the sight of men mounted on camels and horses, towards the S. W. and formed the states of Baol and Sin, which still exist. The Moors drove their enemies, the Fulas, to the south of Senegal; and the latter, in order to secure themselves from further invasions, engaged to pay to the Moors a tribute of six mi'ilos (about twelves quarts) of millet (sorghum saccharatum) for every family, and to embrace the Mahomedan religion. This tribute is still punctually paid every year." ,
By Kumidia, M. Mollieii understands, (as Leo Johan. Leon. Africas Descript. 5.) the Date-district, (Bilad-el-jerid) or Southern Declivity of Mount Atlas ; it may also be supposed, that the Berbers and not the Arabs were the immediate authors of these changes, which will account for our never having heard of them before. The northern banks of the Senegal are occupied, we have no doubt, by Berber tribes ; and the Tarsarts the Bracknas, (MoUien, I. 4,) Aulad Ahmed and Aulad Amin will prove to be Berbers, more or less mixed with Bedwin blood, as well as the Aulad Omar (Ludamar"'s) whose villainous shaikh Ali used Park so cruelly. If so, they are connected by language, as well as habits and manners, with the Tawaric, in the centre, and the Shilhahs (Shuluh) and other Barabars (Brebers) along the sides of Mount Atlas from Wad Nun to Siwah.
" Cette grande nation des Pouies, ou hommes de couleur rouge, n'existe presque plus," says M. Mollien, (I. 275.) " Their intermixture with the Yolofs and Serrers has produced," he adds, " a mulatto race called Torodos, who now occupy the country called Futa-Toro."" The original Fulas were driven by their spurious offspring into the deserts of the Burb- Yolofs, Kay or, and Salom, where a small number of them have still preserved their copper hue and ancient migratory habits.
The extent of country over which the Fulas are spread, is as yet very imperfectly known. Futa-Toro and Bondu, to the south of the Senegal, and Fiita Jallon, at the back of Sierra Leone, stretch from the 10th to the ITth parallel of North Lati- tude ; Sangarari and Wasselon are supposed to extend as far as ^^ S. and & W. A large territory called Fuli-du-gu, (the country of the Full's,) lies on the western confines of the Mandin^ goes, to the south of the Ba-Li ; and Massina to the north of the Jali-ba, (Niger,) is said by Major Gray (37) to be the na-^ tive country of the chief who made the conquest of Futa Jallo, aboutA.D. 1700, (Laing'sTrav. 401.) Their settlements or conquests
Travels in Western Africa, lOBT
extend, however, much further to the east ; and the king of Sdkatu, (in 13*^ 5' N. 5° 5' E.) who was visited by Captain Clapperton, is at the head of the Fellatahs, a Fula tribe, as is proved by a vocabulary of their language, fonned by Dr. Seetzen, in 1808, and published by Vater in 1811." (Koenigsberger Archiv fiir Philosophic, &c. I. 51.) Further light, therefore, on the mo- dern, if not on the ancient history of this widely extended Afri- can nation may be expected from Captain Clapperton's Narrative. This mixture of blood will account also for the difference of character between these Fulas and other negroes, observed by the English as well as the French travellers. Those of Bondu are characterised by Major Grey, (184,) as distinguished by " a low deceitful cunning and religious cant," having as much of the out- ward show, but less of the inward influence of religion than any of their neighbours ; — " Autant j'ai eu a me plaindre des habitans du Foutatoro,"" says M. MoUien, (I. 327,) '* autant j'ai eu a me louer de ceux du Bondou ; lis sont doux, tranquilles, d'un grand sang froid, accueillent Fetranger avec affabilite et ne I'obsedent pas par une curiosite incommode." But it appears from the account of Major Gray, who had much opportunity of observing them, that Mollien's character of the Torodos, is in the main ap- plicable to their neighbours. " The Piil," says the latter, (I. 9S5y) " is violent, irritable, quick and lively ; but indolent, fickle, art- ful, and treacherous, in the highest degree." " C'est au moment ou le JPoule donne la main a quelqu'un, qu'il forme dans son ame le projet de I'assassiner." {\. 286.) (Compare this with Major Gray's Narrative, pp. 26, 114, 117, 210, 286, 340-341.) « Tl^ey are In- capable of feeling affection, and hate the copper-coloured Puis, to whom they owe their origin, as much as they despise the negroes." Their unfeeling treatment of their prisoners is strongly depicted by Major Gray. When he wished to purchase " a poor old wo- man,'■■ in order to rescue her from the unmerciful blowswith which she was continually belaboured, " nothing could be disposed of," he was told, " till the king had seen all that was taken." It was in vain that he urged the probability of the poor wretch's sinking under her sufferings. They only laughed at his compassion; and asked if he was displeased to see nis enemies from Bondu thus punished ; while Garran, the Kartan chief, remarked with the brutal cunning of a savage, that " men who were so tender- hearted to their foes, must be bad warriors." " They are always craving for presents, and abuse you or spit in your face, if not gratified," says Mollien. This was continually experienced by the British travellers, who were always deserted, or otherwise ill-treated, ds soon as they ceased to deal out their donations as fast and as largely as they were demanded. '* They never sell one another,"
o 2
196 Travels in Western Africa.
says Mollien, (I. 286,) "but that must be understood of persons' of the same tribe ; a Moorish boy was given to Major Gray to pur- chase bullocks with.'"' (117.) They are industrious, and, with the Mahomedan faith, have learned the art of writing. There are schools in almost every town where the Koran is taught. Of arithmetic, as an art, they are wholly ignorant. (184-185.) Their manufactures in weaving, carpentry, and cutlery, sho#: " much taste, ingenuity," and skill, when the clumsiness of thei^' tools is considered.
The dress of the different tribes is much the same : —
" The women, "says Major Gray, (185,) *' who, without the assistance of art, might vie, in point of figure, with those of the most exquisitely- fine forms in Europe, are of a more lively disposition, and more deli-' cate form of face, than either the Serrawollies, Mandingoes, or Jolotfs^?' They are extremely neat in their persons and dress, and are very fond of amber, coral, and glass beads of different colours, with which they adorn or bedeck their heads, necks, wrists, and ankles profusely ; gold'' and silver, too, are often formed into small buttons, which are inter-* mixed with the former on the head, and into rings and chains worn on the wrists and ankles. They always wear a veil thrown loosely over^ the head ; this is manufactured by themselves from cotton, and is in^^ tended to imitate thin muslin, at which they have not by any means made a bad attempt. They are exceedingly fond of perfumes of every kind, particularly musk, otto of roses, or lavender, but they can seldom procure these, and therefore substitute cloves, which they pound into powder, and mix up with a kernel having something the flavour of a Tonquin bean, which they likewise reduce to powder, and, with a little gum water, form it into beads about the size of a common garden pea. These they string and hang round the neck ; they sometimes string the cloves themselves, and wear them in the same manner; but the way in which they prefer wearing them, is, sewed up in small bags made of rich coloured silk, a number of which are hung round the neck. The hair, which is neatly braided into a profusion of small plaits, hangs down nearly to the shoulders, and is confined round the forehead with a few strings of small beads, by the young girls, and by the married, vvith a narrow strip of silk, or fine cotton cloth, twisted into a string as thick as a finger. To cojifj])lote their dress, a pair of large gold ear-rings dangle almost to touch the shoulders; and, in con- sequence of their great weight, would tear their ears, were they not supported by a little strap of thin red leather, which is fastened to one ear-ring by a button, and passes over the top of the head to the other. The walk of these ladies is peculiarly majestic and gracefiil, and their whole appearance, although strange to an European observer, is far from being inelegant."
" A white cotton cap, neatly worked with different-coloured silks or worsteds; a close shirt of white cotton, with short sleeves, next the
Travels in Western Africa. 197
skin, covers the bodj? from the neck to the hips, and is surmounted, by a very large one of tho same materials, with long loose sleeves, not unlike a surplice ; this descends below the knees, and is embroidered in the same way as the cap, about the shoulders and breast. The small-clothes, whicli are very roomy above, descend about two inches below tho knee, wliere it is only sufficiently large not to be tight. This part of their dress is generally blue. They wear their hair cut close; and sandals or slippers complete the catalogue of their wardrobe." p. 52. " With the rich, the manufacture of the country is replaced by India bafts and muslins. The Maraboos, and men advanced in years, wear white turbans, with red or blue crowns ; occasionally a hat made of a sort of rush or grass, having a low conical crown, with a broad rim. When on horseback, or going to war, the large sleeves of their gowns are tied together behind the neck, being brought over the shoulders; and the bodies, which would bo otherwise extremely inconvenient, from be- ing very loose, are secured round the middle with a girdle, which at the same time confines their powder-horn and ball-bag on their right side, and their grigri or amulet case on the left. These are all sus- pended by strong cords of red, yellow, or green silk or worsted, and are crossed in the same manner as the belts of our soldiers. A dirk, about nine inches or a foot long, hangs at the right side from the running string or strap, which at the same time serves to tighten the trowscrs above the hips. A single or double-barrelled gun completes their equipment in general; some of the princes and chiefs, however, add a sword, conlined at tho right side by their girdle, and one or two pistols which hang dangling in thin leather holsters, variously coloured, at the pum- mel or front horn of their saddle. One leather bag, to contain water, and another a small store of dried cou.scous for their own provision, together with a nose bag, and a fetter of the same material for their horse, make up the catalogue of their marching baggage, and are af] fastened by leather straps to the back part of the saddle, which is at best a bad one, being chiefly composed of pieces of wood tied together , by thongs of raw cow bide, and which, when wet, stretches so as to allow the wood to come in contact with the horse's back, and wound it in a shocking manner." (187.)
A sketch of one of those comfortable saddles is given in p. 324, in order to illustrate the sufferings of the infant slaves on a march, which Major Gray has so feelingly described.
In make and height the different tribes vary a little. Those of Futa Jallon are described by M. Mollipn (II. 179) as ugly, with a ferocious expression of countenance, and long hair, tressed in the fashion of the ancient Egyptians. Major Gray, on the contrary, says, (41,) they are o^ the middle stature, and well formed. The women are good figures, have a lively and grac^-' ful air, and prominent features, mvich resembling the Europeatii.
'* The natives of Bondii," he says, (IS.*),) ** arc a mixed race,
198 Travels in Western Africa.
of the middle size, well made, and very active, their skin of a light copper colour, and their faces of a form approaching nearer to those of Europe than any of the other tribes of Western Africa, the Moors excepted. Their hair is not so short and woolly as that of the blacks, and their eyes are larger, of a better colour, and more expressive."
The government in all "the Fula states seems to be rather a sort of feudal republic, under the direction of a lord paramount, than a monarchy strictly so called. Futa Jallon consists of the three lordships of Timbo, Labi, and Ti'mbi. Futa Toro was governed by seven chiefs, when M. Molhen travelled through it in 1818. In Bondii, the sovereign is an hereditary monarch, but, as in all Mahomedan states, the succession is open to dis- putes. A nephew succeeded to the Imam Araadi, who died in 1819, though a cousin was the lawful heir. (Gray, 175.) Where the government is elective, the Imam is always chosen, says M. Mollien (I. 279) from the Murabuts, i. e. from the devotees. When this fact is combined with those recorded by Messrs. Laing and Gray, respecting the conversion and conquest of Futa Jallon, we see at once the nature and origin of such monarchies. They were established by priests turned kings, though the religion which they profess acknowledges no priesthood. But the Mussulman wants a guide (Imam) in the performance of his devotions at the canoni- cal hours, and therefore has recourse to some one noted for his learning and sanctity. Such a person soon takes the lead in the community, and becomes the spiritual director (Imam) of all, instead of a few; his legal knowledge — for law and divinity are one and the same thing among Moslems — makes him their civil guide ; and if he have a spark of ambition in his soul, his zeal for the extermination of infidels will ere long make him also the military leader of his converts. Hence arose the temporal Imams in Arabia, as well as Africa ; and hence likewise the same title is given to the sovereigns of Sanaa and Maskat, as in Turkey belongs to the parish clerk of a mosque. The Imam of Fut»i Toro, however, takes also the lofty appellation of Emiru 'I muminin, Commander of the Faithful ; but is not on that account the more respected by his turbulent electors, or the less likely to be deposed as soon as they wish to try another.
Besides the legal tithe (ez-zekat) of all agricultural produce, a transit duty is levied on all merchandise passing through the country, to the amount of about five pounds for every ass-load of European goods, which with the presents expected by the king and chiefs individually, amounts almost to a prohibition ; a tithe of the salt brought from the coast ; customs levied on vessels going up the river, and on the French factory at Bakel ; together with voluntary donations from the suitors and servants of the
Travels in Western Africa. 199
court— by no means the least valuable of the royal resources, — form the revenue of the Imam of Bondu.
His force amounts to 500 or 600 horse, and from 2000 to 8000 foot. As soon as the drum of war — a wooden bowl thiee feet in diameter, covered with a triple hide, one of which is be- lieved to be human, — is heard, every village repeats the sound, and the whole country is quickly in arms. Each chief repairs with his followers to the capital, where a council of war is held lo determine on the plan of the campaign. Every man equips him- self as he can, and depends for his maintenance in the field on the fortune of war. If not decided in a few days, one third of the force at least disbands itself, but the negro warfare is commonly confined to sudden incursions, and attempts at plundei- ing the enemy's villages by surprise.
The oldest traditions preserved by the Fiilas have nothing of the marvellous so common in the history of savages, and are reconcilable to known facts, though the silence of Leo Africanus and Ibn Batuta presents, it must be owned, some difficulties. The only authenticated part of their history goes back rather more than a century, (Laing, 401,) i. e. to the time of the introduc- tion of the Mahomedan faith. In Fi'ita Toro that change was effected somewhere about the year 1790, by Abdi'i '1 Cadir, a Mornbut from Masina, who persuaded his disciples to expel the Deliankes, their rulers, already hated on account of their tyranny and cruelty. Abdu '1 Cadir contrived to retain the power in- trusted to him only for a time, during the remainder of his life ; but since that period his successors have always been elected by the seven chiefs who foinn the aristocracy of the kingdom.
Fi'ita J'allon was originally inhabited by the Jallon-k^s, whose native country, Jallon-ke-d6, lies to the south of Fula-du, and to the south-west of Manding. They, as appears from their language, of which Oldendorp has given a vocabulary, (Ge- ^ schichte der Mission der Evangel. Briider auf den Caraibischen Inseln, Barby, 1777, p. 344,) are a Mandingo tribe. A party of Fiilahs from the north-east, under the command of IVIahommadu Saidi, settled among them in the beginning of the eighteenth century, and their chief acquired such wealth and influence, and made so many converts, that his successor, Miisa-ba, persuaded the Jallon-kes to place themselves under his direction ; and Ab- du 'I Cadir, the firth of his successors, was the reigning Imam when the British Mission was in that country.
With regard to Bondu, its long and bloody warfare against Karta is the only part of its history well ascertained. The hos- tility between the two nations was occasioned by the interference of the first Imam of Fi'ita-Toro, who marched into Bondu, in
200 Travels in Western Africa.
order to attack some Kartans, who were flying from the Bam- barrans. On hearing of his approach, they retreated from Ga- 1am, where they had taken refuge, into their own country, and in their way destroyed some towns belonging to Gedumahh. The chief of the Gedumahhas, a brother Imam, laid his complaints before Abdu'l Cadir, and alleged that Sega, king of Bondu, had assisted the Kartans, carried off his wife and daughter, and, which was a much more heinous offence, destroyed all his books of devotion. The Imam of Futa-Toro, having summoned Sega to answer these charges, tried and deposed him ; privately causing a personal enemy of the deposed chief to be nominated his suc- cessor. Amadi Isata, however, a brother of Sega, succeeded in defeating the newly elected king, assisted by his neighbours in Kajaga, Galam, and Karta, whose aid was purchased by an an- nual tribute of a rai'ilo of gold.* Abdu ""l Cadir, in the mean time, had become unpopular, and the chiefs of Toro could not sup- port him in his meditated incursion into Bondii ; — so that after first retiring into Gedumahh, whence he was soon obhged to re- treat for fear of his old enemies, the Deliankes, and then re- turning into Toro, he was at last surprised by an overpowering force from Bondu, deserted by his followers, and shot by Isata, while counting his beads, and in the attitude of devotion.*}- (199-) Isata was reproached by Modiba, king of Karta, for this dastardly act, and reminded " of the noble conduct" of the Damelof Kayor, (Parke's Travels, 1.511-512,) and condemned to pay " as much gold as would fit in Abdoolghader's scull, when divested of its flesh and brains by boiling." In this instance, as in many others, we may observe how much the narrow spirit of Mahometanism has debased the genuine negro character.
The chiefs of Bondu, as soon as they ceased to want Modiba's assistance, leagued together, to guard themselves against the en- croachments which, as a pagan, they pretended, he would cer- tainly make upon the faithful. The king of Galam, however, refused to join the coalition ; which made Amadi Isata, the Imam of Bondu, his deadly foe ; and when the messengers from Karta came to receive the customary tribute, they were mur- dered, by order of the Imam, who invaded Modiba"'s territories, as soon as he was joined by his allies from Kasson. This took place in 1815. The Kartans had at flrst great success, and got possession of Bulibani ; but through tlie avarice and mrsmanage-
- ■'• ■ ■-': i-<-in -joi'j :ioi( Mi: ■,.; -, : ^ ' ' ' ...Otj} a> -nju- .-
* Compare this with Mollien's account of the tribute jiaid to Ibft Mbor?, I.' 275.
t This nitm is called AIkIouI by MoUien, (I. 177,) who Itnew noihing of the parti- culnrs ol his death. He. converted the people of Ka«oii by a verj- summarj' method, in Junuary, 17ft6, (Park's Travels, I. 1 18, 8vo, ed.)aiid afterwards received the memo- rable lesson from the Darnel here alluded to. ' -
Travels in Western Africa. 201
ment of Modiba, they were driven back with great loss, in the beginning of 1817. In the following spring both parties, aided by their confederates, met near Tubab en-cane, on the southern bank of the Senegal ; the Kartans mustering 2,500 or 3000 men, and the Imam of Bondu, nearly double that number. The latter was, however, completely routed, and his country laid waste in one of those murderous incursions, which usually terminate a negro campaign. Such was the state of things when the Mission entered the country, and though a peace was concluded between Karta and Bondu, during Major Graves residence in the latter kingdom, the mutual animosities between those states were too deeply rooted to be speedily extinguished ; nor could travellers so equipped as the leaders of the British mission were, fail to ex- cite the jealousy and suspicion of the rival chiefs, through whose territories they wished to pass.
The changes of level, soil, and productions in the different countries visited, are only incidentally noticed by Major Gray, and he rarely mentions the directions in which the rivers flow, so that little information, strictly geographical, can be collected from his work. We may infer, however, that almost all the tract between the mouth of the Rio Nuniez and Timbo is a hilly rugged ascent to the mountains behind that town, which appears to lie at no great distance from the highest ridges in the chain that divides the waters running northwards to the Gambia from those which fall into the sea to the west and south. The lowlands are well watered by numerous streams, probably joining the K-omba, or Rio Grande ; but the upper part of that stream is omitted in the map, and a chain of hdls is marked between it and the track of the British Mission. The valleys are rich and productive, and in some places tolerably well cultivated ; and though the mountains rise abruptly immediately beyond the Dunso, tbe intervening levels seem to be more extensive and populous. The hills abound in minerals, particularly iron, some specimens of which, brougiit home by M. MoUien, proved, on examination, to be of an excellent quality. (Voyages, II. 283.)
The Gambia, in the lower part of its course, runs through an alluvial and richly wooded valley, (47,) bounded by a range of heights parallel with it, and conslstmg of clay and sand- stone. Further up the river, masses of iron-stone, sometimes *' in the form of large rocks,' (57,) appear ;, and '* the black- smiths of the country say that the iron procured from them is more malleable than" ours.
Cotton and indigo plantations are found in the more favour- able situations, and show the capabiUties of the country under a better system. At Kunting, i^pre than .tjvo hundred ipil^s from
t*v
202 Travels in Western Africa.
the mouth of the river, the country begins to be diversified with hill and dale ; and yellow clay, intermixed with quartzose peb- bles, succeeds to the ferruginous sand and alluvial earth, with the latter of which it occasionally alternates. At Kasse, not far from the meridian of 13" W,, the Mission quitted the banks of the Gambia, and entered the Sinbarri or Sinbsini woods ; the soil was now a dark brown mould interspersed with white sand, and the country diversified by gentle risings. These, to the eastward, swell into hills of larger dimensions, where flourishing cotton plantations show the excellence of the soil. The ground rises, and the country improves in picturesque beauty, towards the districts midway between the Senegal and Gambia, where there is a table land " beautifully diversified by hill and dale, and thickly covered in every direction with small villages, in the vicinity of which cul- tivation appears to be carried onto a considerable extent." (122.)
On the west side of Bulibani, the capital of Bondu, a range of small hills, running nearly north and south, is "composed of a dark brown stone, resembling volcanic eruption, and having a strong magnetic attraction." (122.) The northern declivity towards the Senegal is scarcely noticed ; it may, however, be inferred, that it is rich and woody, and broken by gentle undulations.
The valley through which that river descends, closely resem- bles the country near the Gambia. Near Tuabo, the capital of Lower Galam, (in 15^ N. and 11" W.) the river, at its time of inundation, reaches the neighbouring hills, which are moderately high and covered with trees. At the height of the flood, " it is impossible,'"* says Major Gray, " to convey an accurate idea of the grandeur of the scene." (257.) A few miles to the north of Fort St. Joseph, the Senegal, " at Soman Kite, runs for some hundred yards over a shelving bed of solid rock, and to the north-east there is a chain of rocky hills." Isolated rocks, sup- posed by Major Gray (295) to be composed of granite, occur m the adjoining plains ; and, twenty-five or thirty miles further east, there is " a high range of rocky mountains running north and south, said by the Kartans to be a continuance of those which break the course of the Senegal at Feloo, forming the falls of that name. Their western sides are steep, much broken, and very difficult of access; and their tops are flat table land, thinly covered with stunted wood, and in many places forming a surface of solid flat work, bearing a brown metallic polish, so smooth that the animals were continually slipping. The descent on the eastern side is scarcely perceptible, and, as one advances, the soil begins to bear a more fertile and less rocky appeai'ance." (296.) Here, then, is one of the terraces which form an ascent from the ccast to the higher levels in the interior. The plains beyond
Travels in Western Africa. SOS
these hills appear to be highly fertile, and those near the river are inundated from July to October. (299.) At the distance of forty-five or fifty miles to the east of the first ascent, " a rocky precipice occurs," extending as far as the eye can reach, in a north-east and south-west direction ; " on the summit of which there is an extensive plain sloping gently to the east and south- east, bounded in all directions by high distant hills, and thinly covered with stunted underwood." " The soil is composed, for the most part, of a slate-like stone, in diagonal strata, resembling in point of colour the slates of North Wales." (311.) At San- jarra (15'^ 30' N. 8° 40' W.) the ascent through the mountains commences. They consist " of a kind of slate, covered with shrubs, and in some places presenting the most wildly grotesque appearance." (316.) The descent on the eastern side, which is much less steep and rugged, leads into a rich and fertile country, where Major Gray was compelled, very much against his will, to retrace his steps.
Respecting the country to the south of the Senegal, some brief hints may be collected from Mr. Dochard's journals. Numerous streams flowing in a northerly direction, through deep and rugged beds, contribute to augment that mighty stream. Towards Jamu the soil becomes rocky, and beyond that town there " are several extraordinary high rocks, bearing in their form more the appearance of art than of nature." (143.) Be- yond the Ba-fing the country is more open and elevated ; — but nothing further is said respecting its appearance between that river and the Niger, which Mr. JDochard crossed at Cumeney, where it is nearly naif a mile wide, on the 18th of February. The falls, a little way above that town, were then hardly pass- able from the small depth of water on them ; and Manabugu, three days' journey above the place of embarkation, was the highest point at which the river was navigable. (255.)
The only remarkable vegetable productions which Major Gray has noticed, are, — 1. " Some large trees resembling the horse-chestnut," of which the trunk is covered with large sharp protuberances in the shape of thorns, and the oval pods contain a silky cotton.'" {^^^ This is probably the Bombax Ceiba. 2. A sort of tobacco, cultivated on the banks of the Neriko. " It is of small growth, and of a pale green colour, bearing a yellow blossom," and is manufactured into snuff. A larger kind also, more like the American plant, is cultivated there. This has " a white blossom, and when dried is used for smoking." 3. " The nitta, or locust-fruit; a kind of mimosa, very much resem- bling the tamarind- tree. The flowers are produced at the extre- mities of the branches, and are succeeded by pods similar to
204 Travels in Western Africa.
those of a garden-bean, nine inches long and one broad. Each contains from nine to twelve black stones enveloped in a fine farinaceous powder, of the appearance of sublimed sulphur. Its taste is not unlike licorice-root powder, and when mixed with milk affords a very palatable and nutritious diet." (40.) Some of the soldiers who swallowed the seeds of the nitta were affected with sickness of stomach. This plant, which is strictly tropical, was found by Captain Clapperton in Hausa ; and by the Mission in great abundance near Fanjetta, (in ll'' 15' N. and 12" 40' W.) 5. Near Yanimaru, on the Gambia, he observed " large shady trees of the mahogany kind," (50,) and the " palm from which wine is extracted ;" a little above that town, also, " a great number of the self-consuming tree." " We never," he adds, " saw any of them on fire, nor yet smoking, but their appearance would lead a person to suppose they had been burnt." The specimens of this tree sent home by Park, show that it is a species of pandanus. It is called fang-jani (self-consumer) by the natives; and a kind of mildew, which causes it to appear scorched, has probably given rise to the notion of its spontaneous combustion. (Park's Trav. II. 187. 8vo. ed.) 6. At Ganado, in Bondu, several sheep and horses were lost in consequence of their eating the leaves of the talee- tree, common throughout the country ; but a strong poison, though it has a very sweet taste. Its bark is used by the pagan negroes for an ordeal, like the red- water of the Bulams and Timanis, and it is perhaps the mili of the Susii's. (Winterbot- tom's Sierra Leone, I. 130.) M. Mollien, when speaking of Conya Araadi in Bondu, says, (I. 311.) " L'eau de cet endroit que les hommes peuvent boire, est un poison pour les chevaux et les bestiaux ; le voisinage d'un arbre appele tali en est la cause. C'est un des plus beaux arbres que j'aie rencontre dans cette partie de I'Afrique ; il est tres-gros et tres-haut, son feuillage est extremement touffu. Les negres n'en emploient le bois a aucun usage." 7. Near Kirijii, in Kasson, there is *' an immense forest of lofty ron-trees,"" a kind of palm. Of the medicinal plants, nothing is said, though it may be presumed that some valuable information might have been obtainea, for "whenever the remedies made use of by the natives of Africa were resorted to in time, the disease," we are told, (140,) " soon gave way." Supposing those remedies (of which we hear nothing more) were not de- rived from any of the three kingdoms of nature, is it at all pro- bable that the natives, who had intelhgence enough to discover them, would have overlooked the more obvious productions of their fields and forests .'* To some readers a httle detail on these, subjects would have been a sufficient compensation for
Travels in Western Africa. 205^
less minuteness in the delineation of the belles and beaux of Bondu ; such inquiries, moreover, would perhaps have helped " to wile the time away," which hung so heavily on the Major's hands. (141.) The plants collected by Mr. Kuramer between the Cape and Tingalinta were lost ; his sketches, also, and notes are, for the most part, too imperfect to be of use Avithout the specimens referred to ; so that only four could be engraved or deciphered : they are the Arum aphyllum, Taber- nsemontana grandiflora, Strophanthus pendulus, and Pterocarpus Africanus, which produces one of the best kinds of gum kmo, called kari. It is to the pen, and perhaps to the pencil of Dr. Hooker, that naturalists are indebted for this addition to their botanical stores.
The elephant and hippopotamus, monkey, wolf lion, and alligator, are almost the only quadrupeds noticed in these journeys. " "; * ' "'
Of the-natives, the' haWta; peculiarities, and opinions are often incidentally mentioned. We have therefore here brought toge- ther the most characteristic passages, that the reader may be enabled at once to estimate the moral and intellectual condition of the Africans visited by the Mission.
At Kaye (53) the neatness of the huts, the dancing and musical propensities of the Mandingoes, their balafos, (a sort of harmonica,) and aptitude for commercial business attracted the notice of the travellers. {» ->" ' '^ '^ ' . ^'^'^ '^* *"^ :
" I observed here," says Major Gray, (55,) " a 'sort of amuse"' ment, or rather inquisitorial exhibition, called by the natives kongco- rong. It was thus : — a man covered from head to foot with small boughs of trees, made his appearance in the afternoon near the town, and gave notice to the young women and girls that he would pay them; a visit after sunset. At the appointed time he entered the village, preceded by drums, and repaired to the assembly place, where all were collected to meet him with the music and singing. He commenced by saying tiiat he came to caution the ladies to be very circumspect in their conduct towards the whites, meaning the men of the expedition, and related some circumstances with which he said ho was acquainted, little to their credit ; but, as it was his first time, he would neither mention names, nor inflict the usual punishment, namely flogging; he,..^ however, would take advantage of the first opportunity which they would be imprudent enough to afford him. All he said was repeated by the girls in a sort of song, accompanied by the music and clapping of hands. Every one who had any thing to fear from his inquisitoridi authority, made him a j)resent; and I observed that not one of the girls withheld this proof of their fear of his tongue, or of their own consciousness of guilt. Ho remained with them until near midnight.'^
206 Travels in Western Africa,
The Major may, perhaps, be thought rather too severe on the prudential liberality of the young ladies of Kaye, and it seems odd that he did not discover this mysterious censor to be no less a personage than the dreaded Mumbo-Jumbo (82. Moore's Travels, 40. Park, I. 58.)
While the party was encamped at Samba Konte, a lioness was killed in one of their hunting excursions. The native who first wounded the beast, was brought back to the town as a prisoner, with his hands tied behind his back, and he was met by all the wo- men of the place singing and clapping their hands, while the carcass of the lioness, covered with a white cloth, was carried in pro- cession, on a bier, surrounded by men shouting, discharging their firing-pieces, and playing all sorts of monkey-tricks. The na- tives, when asked why this man was treated like a culprit, replied, that, "Ashehadbeenguilty of lese-majesty in shooting the queen of beasts, he must be kept prisoner till released by the chiefs, who, knowing that the said queen was their foe, would not only release him, but give him the praise due to his valour." (143.)
The Gulukukko, a river running into the Senegal, a little to the west of the Ba-Fing, was 150 yards wide, and too deep to be forded at the place where Mr. Dochard reached its banks on the 31st of August, 1818. He sent, therefore, to the nearest village, six miles off, for assistance ; but instead of canoes, the natives brought a parcel of large calabashes, the only ferrying vehicles they possessed. In each of these they stowed some articles of the luggage, and then " it was launched into the water, and pushed or rather dragged across," by two men swim- ming, one on each side of it. Those who could not swim were ferried across in the same way ; supported by the calabash, of which they kept firm hold, and pushed forwards by the men swimming alongside of them. (150.) This contrivance, though not near so convenient or ingenious, is something like the rafts made of hides, with which Xenophon's men crossed the Euphrates, (Aqab. I. 5, 10. II. 16.) and which probably gave rise to the keleks, or rafts made of reeds, and supported by inflated skins, still used on that river. (Otter, Voyage en Turquie, I. 148, 157. Macdonald Kinneir's Armenia and Koordistan, 478.)
Notwithstanding the bitter complaints made by Major Gray of the fraud, injustice, and unprincipled conduct of the Im«am Isata Amadi, one event mentioned by him, shows that he is not quite free from prejudice. The market at Samba Conte was held under an Acacia, just outside of the British encampment ; and as one of tlie soldiers was cleaning his rifle, it accidentally went oft', and shot a poor woman through the head, who was sitting on the ground hard by counting over some beads, i. e. her money. (158.) As
Travels in Western Africa. 207
retaliation, or a pecuniary fine in lieu of it, is authorized by the Mahomedan law, here was a fair opening for peculation and chicanery. But when the perpetrator of this accidental homicide was given up, Osman, the chief of the village, told him not to be alarmed ; for as " the thing plainly came from God, the Imam would certainly see that he was innocent, and pass sentence accordingly."" And so he did; for his Alfa (Kha- lifah or deputy) or Cherno, who arrived on the third day, brought word, that as " the woman came by her death accident- ally," the only thing required by the Imam was the purchase of a female slave, who should be delivered up to the chief of the village, adding, that he was sorry that the Major had " thought it neces- sary to put his child in prison." That the negro chiefs, by whom the progress of the Mission was interrupted, were interested and mercenary, and had very imperfect notions of truth, honesty, or honour, no one who reads this book can doubt ; but that their views were so designing and hostile, or their professions so entirely devoid of sincerity, as the author seems from the first to have supposed, may well be doubted. He docs not appear to have studied the art of accommodating himself to their whims and prejudices, nor to have felt much pleasure in keeping them in good humour. Some happy opportunities (167) of improving his knowledge of their habits and opinions were unluckily over- looked, nor can it well be supposed tliat he succeeded in making his own views (168) and intentions clearly understood.
Among the ignorant and illiterate, worthless and artful persons never fail to profit by the simplicity of their more honest, but weaker brethren. This is perpetually witnessed in our own country; where quacks ana mountebanks and projectors and fanatics are every day to be found ; but the worthies in Bambarra have outdone their rivals in Europe; having discovered that a hill in the neighbourhood of Ki'ili Korro, a town on the Niger, contains stones which preserve their possessors from all mischief, and would infallibly kill the man who dared to touch a person carrying one of them about him. All the vagabonds, therefore, of Bambarra, repair to Kuli-korro, where they are cntirery secure from molestation, " and such is the dread entertained of thi« place, that the very name must not be mentioned in presence of the king." (155.)
That the Mahomedan negroes are not always unfeeling and fanatical, is proved by the memorable instances of Karfa Taura, (Park's Trav. I. 376-537,) and Asana Yira, king of the 8u- hmas (Laing, 25^8-523:) the Kartans, however, perhaps from being too near the ferocious Berbers of the desert, (Sahra,) have lost the negro, without replacing them by any of the Mussul-
208 Tfathls in Western Africa,
man virtues. When presents were to be sent to the king, they could not be received on Monday, because that was his majesty's drinking day! Bojar, his son, hkewise, *' always made a sa- crifice of one or more days in each week to the ruby-lipped god,"" but was luckily, on those occasions, in high good humour. So much so, that in one of his visits to Major Gray, he not only brought a large calabash full of detestable, but potent beer, but sent for one of his sisters to cheer the Major's idle hours, and give him lessons in Bambarran. This was rather an embarrassing conjuncture, and all the Majors diplomatic finesse was required to extricate him from it.
" My want of gallantry upon this occasion," he says, (303,) " was remarked by all present; and I was asked if I had a wife in ray own country, or if I did not think the one presented to me handsome enough for ray acceptance. An effort to extricate myself from the repetition of such favours, and at the same time to avoid insulting her sable highness, obliged me to say that I was married, and dare not infringe the laws of my country, which punished with death any man who took unto himself more than one wife. This answer excited more than common remarks on the part of the prince, who said he had been told that white women were so completely mistresses of the men, that the whole care and labour of supporting our families depended upon the latter, who dare not even speak to any woman save their wives. Another question of his, namely, should he come to England, would the king give him one of his daughters to wife ? drew from me an answer of which I much doubted the truth ; but which in this in- stance I must be excused for not adhering to, as it would not have been proper to hurt the pride of a man who appeared to possess not a small share of it, at least in his own way, and who thought he was confer- ring a high favour on the lady, let her be who she may, who might be solicited to partake of his royal protection."
The account of a council of war, held near the cantonment of the mission, at Samba Conte, where Major Gray's opinion was favourably received, (217,) and that of an assembly of the chiefs of upper Galam, held at Dramanet, on the Senegal, at which he was present, (281-286,) throw some light, on the civil and in- tellectual condition of the Mahomedan negroes, and should have been inserted here, had not this article been already extended be- yond its proper limits. The debates, of which Major Gray has given an outline, prove, to borrow his own words, (285,) that " these people are far from being that savage, unsophisticated race of mortals, which they are by many supposed to be ; and want but long and uninterrupted intercourse with enlightened nations, and the introduction oi the Christian religion, to place them on a level with their more wealthy northern fellow-creatures." This
Travels in Western Africa. 209
opinion acquires additional weight, from the unfavourable hght in which the author had so often occasion to see the Net^ro cha- racter developed ; and we cannot conclude our remarks upon Major Gray's narrative )nore appropriately, than by observing, that his freedom from any vindictive feeling reflects the highest credit upon himself.
His perseverance, in spite of every obstacle, in endeavouring to fulfil the objects of his mission, and the unaflxjcted cornjiiiser- ation continually called forth by the sufferings of the slaves and captives, are as honourable to his resolution and humanity, as the readiness with which he gave way, where opposition would have only endangered the safety of his men, is creditable to his judgment and regard for their welfare.
Of the merits of Major Gray's style, our readers will be en- abled to judge from the extracts which we have given. He has judiciously contented himself, — though the splendid periods of his preface, perhaps may have prevented some readers from discover- ing it — with transcribmg from his journals the facts and obser- vations as they were noted down at the time. There is one defect, indeed, by which his book is disgraced, but it belongs solely to the printer, and not to himself — we mean the incorrectness of the orthography and punctuation. The names are sometimes spelt in two or three aifferent ways, almost in the same page ; and sometimes are hardly recognisable on the map. Few persons would suspect that Diaperey was Japerey ; or Dhyaje, Jaghee ; Dyaghan, we believe, is the Joag of Park's map ; for Dhy seems to have been substituted for the English J. In this respect, some blame must attach to the author ; and it is to be regretted that he has given no vocabularies, nor other information respect- ing the native languages, in which, by the aid of M. Partarieau, he might easily have made a proficiency never attained by any preceding traveller. To that person, in fact, the singularities in orthogra])liy may be traced ; for they originated with his mas- ter, M. Dard, Instituteur de TEcole du Senegal, (Dictionnaire Fran(;ais, — Wolof. p. xiv.) The use of an invariable system in the orthography of foreign words is exceedingly desirable ; and when once explained, its deviation from our own is com- paratively of little importance ; but, if used without explanation. It only serves to embarrass and confound the traveller as well as the reader.*
• The African or Asiatic terms oCciiri'ihg in this article aft; all spelt according to Sir William Jones's plan, which gives to the consonants the same power as In our own, and to the vowels that whioh they have in the Italian Uinguuge, VOL. I. P
210 Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects.
Art. XI. — Sermons on Various Subjects. By the late Rev. Thomas Kennel, B. D. Vicar of Kensington, Prebendary of South Grantham, and Chaplain to the late Lord Bishop of Salisbury. Rivington and Co. London, 1825. 8vo. 12*.
Wi^opened this work with expectations of considerable in- terest, and we have closed it with strong feelings of mingled satisfaction and regret. The excellent author, who has lately terminated a short but honourable career in pur establishment, was one whose life and doctrine threw light upon each other, and both reflected credit upon the source from which they flowed. On this account, these sermons, many of them fresh from the master's hand, recommend themselves particularly to our atten- tion ; — nor, is it possible for those who knew him to recognise in their pages the principles and rules upon which his life was modelled, and his habits and affections formed, without the experience of many feelings, as agreeable as they are instructive. But the more pleasure we derive from this source, the more difficult is it to shut out the reflection, recurring at every step, that the work, now submitted to our inquiry, is the last monu- ment of his earthly labours, and that the bright remainder of his course, so universally anticipated for him, is now irrecoverably a blank.
To those, indeed, who are disposed to carry their views beyond this transitory scene, his life will appear long enough for himself ; for it was croAvded with Christian labours, and closed in the serene assurance of Christian hope : but with respect to the public and to his friends, it is difficult to express how untimely his death appears, and how severely and extensively it will be felt. We, ourselves, are not without our share of this calamity, and if we were not deeply impressed with a sense of those higher interests which are involved in it, we could gladly indulge the expression of our regret, for the loss of one who Avas always friendly to our labours, and to whose learning and taste we had lately looked, as calculated to shed a lustre over this new era of our existence. — But when we remember how many ties of esteem, and tenderness, and affection, have been broken by his death — how admirable a course of actual usefulness has been arrested, and how many brilliant hopes, justly and fondly cherished, have been frustrated — when we reflect that a venerable parent, bereaved of his best stay, has been doomed by an inversion of the order of nature, to follow to the grave an affectionate and accomphshed son — that a populous and extensive parish
Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects, 211
have lost, in him, a faithful teacher, and an example of godly Ufe — the church of England, a rational and judicious, but watchful and zealous, friend — and Christianity itself, an able advocate and expositor — our own feelings are absorbed in these deeper griefs, and we are disposed rather to take refuge for a while in the consideration of those leading features of his character, which, as they are honourable and hopeful to him- self, so are they calculated ^ - afford the best consolation to all who lament his loss, ^q trust to the indulgence of our readers, to excuse this brief memorial of our respect; and sure we are, that these sermons wherever they may find their way, will be read with more interest as well as more improvement, when it is known from what a mind they came.
Distinguished in his early years by a rapid progress in classical literature, in which he bore away, both at Eton and at Cam- bridge, many contested honours, he was still more remarkable afterwards for the entire and conscientious devotion of his highly cultivated mind to the studies and pursuits connected with that sacred profession, which had early been the object of his choice. To him the great masters of ancient wisdom and phi- losophy, Avith all their excellencies and defects, were, to use his own expressive language, the avenue and the portico of that sacred temple of the hqjy scriptures, in which he afterwards offered continually the first fruits of his health and strength upon the altar of his Redeemer. Nor was his merit suffered, for a moment, to languish in obscurity. His father's station and acquirements smoothed his introduction to the church, and his own industry and talents soon secured him approbation in it. From the moment of his taking orders, the course of ecclesiastical distinction was laid open to him ; he became successively assistant-preacher to his father in the Temple, in which office many of these sermons were delivered, examining chaplain to the late Bishop of Salisbury, and Christian advo- cate in the university of Cambridge. In all these situations, involving considerable responsibility, and requiring in a greater or less degree a union of classical and ecclesiastical knowledge, he acquitted himself with so much judgment and ability, as to lay the foundation of much higher hopes ; and, it is more than probable, that nothing but his premature death prevented his arrival at the greatest dignity, which it is in the power of our establishment to confer. It was not, however, within the path of literary labour, however appropriate to his profession, or suitable to his taste, that the zccit of his Christian spirit could be confined. Capable alike of every part of the ministerial duty,
p2
212 Rennei's iSermons on Various Subjects.
and intent upon higher aims than those of earthly eminence or reputation, he shunned no office, refused no task, which might contribute to their furtherance— least of all was he likely to decline the useful and important duties of the parochial care, for which the kindness of his heart and the love of his pro- fession rendered him particularly fit. Accordingly at an age (we believe twenty-eight,) when many would have shrunk from such a charge, and few, very few, would have been equal to it, he accepted at the hands of an eminent and judicious prelate the vicarage of Kensington, one of the most laborious and responsible cures in the neighbourhood of the metropolis. In the discharge of this duty he continued with unabating assiduity till his death, and his conduct amply justified the wisdom of the choice. In every part of his varied labours, the difficulty and delicacy of which can only be estimated by one who has experienced a similar charge, he set forth the excellency of the gospel, and upheld the credit of the church. As a preacher, he was every where approved, but particularly in his parochial church, where the flow of his mind was more free, and his per- sonal influence more extensively felt. Animated, eloquent, and sensible — but, above all, earnest and sincere, he could scarcely fail of impressing upon others the truths which he felt himself; while his frequent forcible appeals to the consciences of his hearers (specimens of which will be found in these sermons), must have been powerful instruments in his hands, for instilling the terrors or inspiring the hopes of the gospel. Nor was he less remark- able for the prudence of his conduct, and the benevolence of his pastoral care. In the significant and comprehensive language of the apostle, he let no man despise his youth ; and the deep regret still felt for him in his extensive parish, and the respect borne for his memory, by all ranks and degrees, within it, will best testify how high he stood when living, in their iaffection and esteem.
His published works, which appeared at intervals during the whole period of his ministry, breathe throughout the same Christian spirit that informed and directed his active life. That they are, for the most part, controversial, may be accounted for, partly from his office of Christian advocate, which imposed it upon him as a duty, and partly from his anxiety for religious truth, which made it his inclination to oppose every speculation set afloat (no matter upon what authority,) on the public mind, that was calculated to weaken the influence or to injure the integrity of the Christian faith. For such inquiries, the acuteness of his mind, as well as the character of his studies, rendered him highly
CQDflPetent ; and as if sensible of the frail tenure by which he
Xy^fiv.i!^^'::/ .' ■ i'ii.i'Scii<'- -'toe .u-> iiioarns. ,;'dNn! ic
Rennel's Sermons on Various Suhjecis. 213
held his existence, he seemed more anxious to give value to the passing hour by a prompt exertion of his faculties, wherever the sacred cause, we have mentioned, appeared to be at stake, than to aspire after more important labours by depending upon future years. But he had nothing in him of a controversial spirit. At Kensington, he abstained upon principle from every discussion which was likely to generate dispute ; and his controversial writings are not more remarkable for the gravity and importance of their subjects, than for their total freedom from intolerance and bigotry, and, above all, from personality and abuse.
in truth, though the causes which gave birth to these discus- sions were temporary, not so, we trust, will be the results ; for many of his tracts are drawn up with so much learning and acuteness, and contain matter of such perpetual use and appli- cation, that they will probably live with posterity when the occasions which called them forth shall be forgotten. His first work, pub- lished under the denomination of a " Student in Divinity," and entitled " Animadversions on the Unitarian Translation, &c. of the New Testament," was written before he was twenty-four years of age. His " Remarks on Scepticism," especially as it is connected with the subjects of organization and life, in answer to Mr. Bichat, and Mr. Lawrence — and his " Letter to Mr. Brougham upon his Durham Speech," &c. &c. the best and the most esteemed of his controversial works, were both composed amidst the labours of his cure at Kensington ; and his last work, a new edition of " Munter's Narrative of the Conversion and Death of Struensee," to which his high opinion may haply add currency and value, was a solemn and appropriate legacy to the world, under the impression of his fatal illness, when his parochial labours had necessarily ceased ; thus, in the language of the apostle, " not counting his life dear unto himself, so that he might finish his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God." But these writings, with others, equally acknowledged though not mentioned here, did not constitute the whole, nor perhaps the greater part of his literary labours during this period. Sensible of the prodigious influence exercised by the periodical press upon the public mind, his assistance was easily procured for ever)' journal m which good morals and sound religious principles were advocated, l^pon this principle he was, for some years, the editor of the "British Critic;" in which capacity he contributed largely in various ways, to its reputation and success ; and to the latest year of his life he wrote occasion- ally for the " Christian Remembrancer," in whose pages several of these sermons will be found. Nor should it be forgotten, that
214 Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects.
amidst all these occupations, he preached and printed several occasional sermons, and also dehvered the " Warburtonian Lec- tures," at Lincoln's Inn.
Such was the man who has lately been removed by the will of providence from amongst us, at the early age of thirty-eight ; and such the labours with which his youth was honoured, and his death was crowned. Of him it may be said in the words of the wise man — " he being made perfect in a short time, fulfilled ^ long time, for his soul pleased the Lord ; therefore hastened he to take him away from among the wicked." But short as his con- tinuance was, in no respect has he lived in vain. He did much good in his generation, and of the best kind too, and he has left a rich inheritance behind. To the church, in whose bosom he was brought up, he has bequeathed the best testimony of his attachment — the credit to be reflected from his labours, and the support to be derived from them. To his family and his friends he has left the remembrance of his virtues and his kindness, the blessing of his good name, and a full title to the balm included in the apostolic injunction, not to be sorry as men without hope, for those who sleep in God. To all he has left the benefit of his example, — a life animated by the spirit, directed by the pre- cepts, and spent, humanly speaking, in the service of the gospel ; and while his early honours and success will be an encourage- ment to our studious youth to enter early upon the labours of the vineyard, his untimely death conveys an awful but salutary summons to the indolent and careless, to speed their loitering steps, lest the eleventh hour should come and pass by them, before their task is begun.
Having paid this last tribute to the memory of the author, we shall now turn to the sermons before us, which we may, in the first instance, venture to assure our readers are of no ordinary kind. They are the genuine views and conclusions of an ardent and susceptible mind, coming to the study of the scriptures with a disposition to acknowledge their beauties and to receive their truths, and yet so imbued with human learning, and so instructed in the nature and grounds of evidence, as to be proof against credulity or superstition ; and they possess stronger marks of originality, than can be found in most sermons to which we could refer.
In the management and application of his learning, there is displayed much prudence and good taste. It is neither obtrusive nor pedantic, but shows itself rather in the wide range and the classical turn of his thoughts, and in the soundness of his obser- vations, than in reference and quotation, and is so happily blended and tempered with the rich materials of his mind, drawn from
Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects 215^?
other sources, that it requires some decree of learning to dis- tinguish where and whence it is. Indeed, although the sermons were preached at different places and to very different audiences ; some at the Temple Church, some at St. Mary's, Cambridge, a few in cathedrals, and many at Kensington, and are evidently drawn up with a view to the state of acquirement in each, yet are they composed with such a union of usefulness and in- tellio-ence, that while his learned audiences will read with pleasure, as well as edification, his parochial sermons, there is scarcely one of his more erudite discourses which may not be understood and turned to account by his parishioners at Kensington,
Another feature which recommends these discourses, is the manliness and spirit with which the leading doctrines and the mysteries of our faith are brought forward and discussed by him. In this respect he follows the example and advice of Bishop Horsley, who laid it doAvn as a maxim, that the clergy mistake their duty, and only consult their indolence, when they avoid the mention of every doctrine which may be combated, and bury every text of doubtful meaning. We rejoice that Mr. Rennel has pursued, at proper seasons, this bolder track, recom- mended from such high authority ; for, although it is not one in which every man is competent to follow with advantage, since, when such subjects are unskilfully treated, or lightly entertained, they tend neither to the peace nor to the edification of the church ; yet is there certainly none on which learning and judgment can be more usefully employed. The more these doctrines are liable to be mistaken by the ignorant, misrepresented by infidels, or distorted by enthusiasts, the more reason is there that the views of good and able men should be made familiar to the minds of every intelligent audience, that they may not only be satisfied themselves, but have a reason to give of the faith which is in them.
In this view, the doctrinal parts of these sermons, which em- brace most of the important tenets of the Christian faith, will be found exceedingly valuable. They are throughout rational, judicious, and tolerant; without exaggeration, as without com- promise ; clear and decisive in following the church, as it follows the scriptures, but never pretending to be wise above what is re- vealed. Above all, they abound in lively perceptions and pleasing views of the benevolence of the Deity, even in his mysterious dis- pensations to his creatures ; and are thus calculated to awaken the best and kindest feelings of our nature, under the impression of objects which cannot be contemplated but in wonder and awe. Without claiming for him the confident strength and the daunt- less ingenuity which distinguished the prelate already alluded to,
21^ Renrtel's Serfnom on P^rious SithjeeUi
we need not hesitate to say, that there is scarcely any divine of modern times to whom we could more safely or more gladly refer, for an interpretation of the doctrines of our church, or an illustra- tion of their tendencies, than the author before us.
A third advantage which will be found in these discotirses, and that by no means an unimpiartant one, is the judicious manner in which the materials are measured and arranged in them. As if he had always kept in view the edifying object for which he wrote, that of ministering grace to his hearers, his sermons are neither too long to fatigue, nor too crowded with matter to per- plex them. The points to be discussed, and the lessons to be inipressed, are generally few and simple, though important, while the argument is clearly developed ; and thus the main object of each discourse is made so transparent, as to possess all the ad- vantage of divisions and subdivisions, without the repetition and formality attached to them. To these qualities we may add, a pure and lofty tone of morality, the highest sense of the importance due to the leading principles of the Christian faith, and a glowing and edifying spirit of devotion ; without which the most studied eloquence, and the soundest arguments, address themselves to our hearts in vain.
^; "jTo illustrate these remarks, we shall first direct the attention of our readers to a copious extract from the second sermon on the Athanasian Creed, including some excellent and judicious obser- vations on the Trinity itself This creed, which has been the subject of much misapprehension, has also been, we must confess, the cause of sqme xmeasiness ; and certain it is, that if the eminent divines of our church, professing as they do precisely the same belief, should undertake to draw up a formula of this doctrine, suited to the present day, and agreeable to the mild and tolerant spirit of our church, they would be content to express it in simpler terms, and to place it in fewer lights ; and they Avould either abstain altogether from the damnatory clauses^ or express the sense of them in such a way, as to prevent the possibiUty of those harsh constructions to which they have been liable. The faylt, however, is not in the learned men Avho composed it, nor yet in the creed itself, which recording as it docs the identity of our faith Avith that of the primitive Christians, is entitled to our highest respect ; but in the numerous heresies and wild oj-inions in the midst of which it was composed, and in the necessity of guarding carefully by every variety of position and expression the unity of the church, agains,t the confusion which these heresies would have intioduced. Something, perhaps, is to be attributed to the hasty views and rash conclusions of the objectors themselves, who are not careful
Rennel's Serinons on Various Subjects. 217
to inquire sufficiently into the real meaning and intention of the terms, and are apt, as our author truly says, to imagine, that instead of being an exposition of the doctrine, it is offered as an explana- tion of it. But whatever may be the source of these objections, they are eminently entitled to our consideration, fpr they are con- nected with some of the best principles of our nature,* and particu- larly with Christian charity ; an^ as we are heartily anxious, with Mr. Kennel, "for the interchange of mutual concession, and for the unity and peace of the church," we are glad to present these observations to our readers, because they are, we think, admirably calculated to promote them. Before we quit this subject, Ave are desirous to remark, that besides that venerable commendation which this creed bears as a testimony of ancient faith, there is another important circumstance connected Avith it, which should entitle it to our care — and this is, that though the history of many of these heresies is somewhat obscure, and even the memory of others has passed aAvay, it is difficult to affirm of any of them, that in the pregnant wayAAardness of the human fancy, they may not be revived. In such case, it is surely of im- portance to possess a barrier already erected at every avenue, and founded upon such authority, to oppose them : —
"The first objection generally urged against this creed is, that in
attempting to explain what cdmits not of explanation, and to define what is incapable of definition, it is at once conl\;^ed,, obscure, and unintelligible. - i , • ■ ,;.
"That the doctrine of the Trinity is beybhd the grasp of the human ri^ind to comprehend, is fully and universally allowed ; it is ever to be at the same time Remembered, that because it is above, it is not there- fore contrary to our reason. We are not to refuse our assent to the truth of a propositon, if we ascertained that its terras include not an actual contradiction, because we are unable to comprehend its mode and extent. Every proposition respecting the attributes of the Deity, that is, every application of a finite mind to an infinite Being, is subject to this rule. We assert the eternity of God, although of eternity we have but a faint and unsatisfactory idea. We doubt not of; the ubiquity of the divine presence, though of infinite space our notions are equally limited. Why then should Ave feel any hesitation ill admitting as an article of our belief, that although the Almighty appears in three different and distinct persons or characters, in his dispensations towards man, these three are but the same self-existent Being, Avhose Godhead is essentially and necessarily one ; or in other words what reason can be adduced why we should not believe the ex- istence of one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity? There is nothing in the nature of the proposition that confounds the poAvers of our belief, though it defies the force of our comprehension. It is a pro- pQSjitiou that is dearly to bedcduccdt not from a few insulated pas-
218 Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects.
sages, but from the whole tenour of scripture, and the whole scheme of Christianity ; it therefore demands our assent. Confusion only follows when we are anxious to explain the mode of its existence, when the temerity of man attempts to fathom the mysteries of the Godhead. ' He maketh darkness his secret place, his pavilion round about him with dark water, and thick clouds to cover him.'
" In the first ages of the church, when the doctrines of Christianity were not the care of a few transitory moments, but the regard and concern of a whole life ; in much piety originated much mistaken zeal, not less in the object than in the mode of attaining it. They refused to acquiesce in that dim and partial vision, which is the lot of mortality ; they attempted to soar on the wings of idle and adventurous fancy to the heaven of heavens, even to the throne of God. An excess of for- bidden light struck them with judicial blindness. In the darkness of a confounded intellect, they invented the wildest theories, no less absurd in their own nature, than scandalous to the common cause of the Christian faith ; and it may be doubted whether the church suf- fered most in the purity of its faith, from the folly in which they were framed, or in the harmony of its establishment, from the enthusiasm with which they were propagated.
" To discredit and denounce the dangerous and destructive errors, which infested the purity and peace of the Christian church, to present an uniform, clear, and scriptural rule of faith to each succeeding age, the creed in question was first composed. It was framed, not to ex- plain a doctrine which the human mind could never comprehend, but to guard its simplicity from the misinterpretation of wild and fancifiil delusion ; to expose the fallacy of a false account, though it may be beyond the power of man to render a true one. It was to correct the glaring absurdities of former heresies, of which those who are not conversant in ecclesiastical history can have but a faint idea, that many of the doctrinal clauses were added, and in opposition to these erroneous fancies to state the several propositions of the Christian faith. Each proposition taken by itself is in its terms sufficiently in- telligible, and all of them together are but an enlargement of the first, that there is one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity. Every proposition is but a different mode of stating the same truth, in oppo- sition to the fancies of some absurd and heretical tenets. How the Unity exists in Trinity and Trinity in Unity is not, because it cannot be explained, nor is there a single proposition which attempts its ex- planation. If we could view it in this light, and consider every pro position respecting the Trinity, as but another mode of stating the first grand article, every obscurity would surely vanish, and however superfluous some of these might appear to be in the present age, none are difficult or unintelligible. We make a difficulty where we find none.
"The second and most serious objection to this creed in the eyes of many good and charitable men, is the doctrine contained in what are usually termed the damnatory clauses. Shall a fallible man, say they, frame his system of belief on a most difficult, and in some manner.
Rennel's Sermons on Fhrious Subjects. 219
incomprehensible subject, and condemn to eternal destruction all those who differ from him in so tender and questionable a point? And shall the mild and tolerant church of England sanction such an unwarrantable temerity ?
" It may not be improper to observe, that from the sixth century to the present day, it has been received by the whole western church, and with the alteration of one doctrinal cause, by great part of the eastern. When therefore the church of England is accused of in- tolerance in retaining this creed, the charge is equally applicable to nearly the whole Christian church throughout the world. It is true that this is no argument for its retention, but it is a point which is seldom considered, or is carefully removed from view, by the gene- rality of those who make the charge.
" But the church of England claims no authority which exists in man alone. The validity of her witness is to be tried by a greater witness, even the witness of God. In her eighth article she affirms indeed, that the creed of Athanasius ought thoroughly to be received and believed, not as the work of a man, not on her own authority, but as it may be proved by the most certain warrants of the holy scripture. To every clause throughout the creed this assertion equally and unequivocally applies. Let us tirst consider what the assertion really is, to which we so strongly object, and then let us consider whether that assertion is not warranted by the whole tenour of the Cliristian dispensation. When then we say in the strongest clause of the whole, that 'this is the Catholic faith, which except every one do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlastingly,' we cannot be supposed to mean, that every trifling verbal ditierence, on a subject above our knowledge, shall doom even the best of men to eternal destruction ; this is contrary to our belief as sons of the church of England ; it is contrary to our charity as Christians. But when words grow into things, when verbal distinctions, as they very rapidly do, grow into practical evils, when a man shall wilftilly reject, insidiously undermine, or knowingly degrade any leading doctrine of the Christian dispensation, then is he amenable to this clause. The revelation of God to man, the glories and graces of the Christian dis- pensation, are not the objects of capricious sport, or idle contention. They are not to be received at pleasure, nor rejected with impunity. Those who have the power and the opportunity of ascertaining, of receiving, and of defending their truth, must, in reason, be answerable for their wilful rejection, or intentional corruption. ' God is not mocked.' ' What a man soweth, that also will he reap.' But even here we must remember, that God, not man, is the judge. And when the judgments of God are threatened, they neither are, nor can be, threatened absolutely, but with a final and essential reservation for the mercies of infinite wisdom.
" Thus then, when after a black catalogue of human crimes, the apostle declares, ' that they which do such things shall not enter the kingdom of God.' And when, in consequence of such declaration, we believe that the wages of sin is everlasting death, do we by this belief
^0 R^lf5^»Sdr^PI»2#^;^^
exclude the prerogative of infinite mercy? The analogy holds ^oOa m both cases. Both in the trial of faith and of works, there are venial, there are mortal sins ; and though we know the law is equally explicit in its threatenings against sin in general, we know that justice will be tem- pered by mercy, according to the judgment of infinite wisdom. When then we say that he who keeps not all this Catholic faith, without doubt shall perish everlastingly ; we mean, that against a wilful rejection, or corruption, of any of the leading and fundamental doctrines of the Christian dispensation, the judgment of death in the scriptures is prondunced ; reserving ever the exercise of that mercy, which infinite wisdom can alone with equity dispense.
" Is then this declaration in conformity with the whole tenour of scrip- ture ? Is the witness of man authorized and confirmed by the witness of God ? It is not my present intention to multiply texts in its defence. He that will examine for himself will find the witness of God not only_^ greater but stronger than the witness of man. He will find the most positive, the most awfiil penalties, denounced against the wilful rejec- tion, not of one, but of every article, both separately and conjointly, of the Christian faith. Beyond this, there is no appeal. ' He that hath the Son hath life, and he that hath not the Son hath not life, but the wrath of God remaineth upon him.'
** Such then being the witness of scripture to the essential importance of every article of our faith, it is surely neither useless nor uncharit- able to prefix a solemn warning to their general profession. It is for us to apply to those general threatenings, such rational limitations as are most consonant with the whole scheme of Christianity; not to violate with trifling objections, nor resist with obstinate jealousy its doctrines, because they ai*e apparently, and in form, the witness of man, when we find that they are really, and in fact, doctrines emana- ting from a higher authority, that they are even * the witness of God.' " —pp. 23-31.
With the close of the third sermon on the Incarnation, we are particularly pleased. It is a glowing, pious, and eloquent ex- pression of gratitude for our redemption — admirably adapted to support the old English Christmas-like feelings of charity, and kindness, and hospitality, at that season ; but calculated, at the same time, to chasten the excesses which Avere apt in former times to accompany and to degrade them : —
" When therefore in the captiousness of human folly, we consider this adoption of our nature, as beneath the dignity of God, we measure God by ourselves ; and because our mean pride will not suffer us to condescend to the weakness and wants of our brethren, we conceive, that the Majesty of God cannot be lowered to the infirmity of man. Man is dearer to God than to himself. It is ignorance alone of the divine attributes, that can consider them as debased by any act of mercy. The farther the rays of infinite goodness penetrate into this vale of sin and sorrow, the stronger is that body of heavenly light
Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects^ 221
from which they emanate. Let it not then be a cause of cavil and exception, that God should submit to a condition so infinitely beneath him. If we cannot fathom the measures of tlie divine mercy, the least we can do is to receive them with grateful submission.
" ' This is the day which the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.' As on this auspicious day commenced the revocation of the fatal curse. We celebrate the nativity of the world, not less than that of Christ ; a new creation unto life, a regeneration by the spirit of God. By this stupendous incarnation of the divine nature, he made himself the Son of Man, that by no less a change in our nature, we might become the sons of God. , ,
" We know the honest transports which the liberty of a single nation, redeemed from the grasp of a tyrant, excites in every kindred heart ; and shall a less degree of holy joy be felt at the anniversary of that morning which gave freedom to the whole world, which redeemed generations past, present, and to come, from the bondage of sin, and the powers of darkness, which recovered for fallen man, liberty, life, and immortality. 'Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion, put on thy beautiful garment, O Jerusalem, thou holy city; shake thyself from the dust, loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.'
" Are the first glimmerings of peace to a bleeding and exhausted world, to be hailed with enthusiastic joy, and is that event to be re- ceived with less heartfelt triumph, which proclaims a reconciliation between a sinful creature and an offended Creator, a peace between man and his conscience, a peace of pardon between man and God — * Peace I leave with you,' said our dying Saviour, ' my peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth, give I unto you.' These are the glad tidings of eternal rest in the city of God, ' Violence shall no more be heard in thy land, wasting nor destruction within thy borders ; but thou shalt call thy walls salvation, and thy gates praise.'
" It was on this day that the root and branch of Jesse, the bright and morning star, did spring up above our horizon ; * though darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people, yet the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.'
" It is for us to consecrate this holy festival with prayer, with thanks- giving, with holy and triumphant joy, in the persons of ourselves, and of our brethren in Christ. As Christ took upon him our nature, let us resemble him, as he resembled us. As he was an inheritor of cor- ruption for our sakes, let us be heirs of immortality for his. Sin and sorrow are inseparable companions not only in our pilgrimage through this life, but in our hopes and fears of the next. As then we would consecrate this festival with joy, let us adorn it with innocence. But if Christ descended into the infirmities of our mortal nature, let us also descend into the weakness and wants of our brethren. Is there an enmity that still rankles in our breasts, this is the season of am- nesty and oblivion, as God in the form of Christ forgave us, so let us forgive the sins of our fellow-creatures. Tlie very season of the year, and the climate of our land, seem in a peculiar mauner to call our at-
222 Rennel's Sermons on Farious Subjects,
tention to the wants of our poorer brethren. Relieve that Saviour who, as on this day, came into the world to redeem you, in the person of his afflicted servants ; and believe me, that the cheerfulness of every accustomed relaxation, the pleasure of every innocent festivity, will be rendered inexpressibly more grateful by the thought, that you have shared your delight with your poor fellow-creatures, that you have made the hearts of the widow and of the aged to sing with joy. May innocence purify the pleasures of this season, and charity consecrate them to God, — and thus may you render it happy, by making it holy." — pp. 42-45.
Not less impressive are some of his observations on the capital doctrine of the Resurrection.
After explaining generally the difficulties which this doctrine was likely to meet with from the pride and sophistry of man, he speaks thus eloquently of its reception at the proudest seat of philosophy, Athens : —
" In proof of this assertion, let us for a moment turn our eyes from that opulent and luxurious city, to whose converted inhabitants the words of my text are directed, and behold the great apostle in a nobler scene, standing in the midst of the Areopagus, addressing himself no longer to the obstinacy of Jewish prejudice, or the ignorance of Asiatic superstition, but to the pride of Athenian literature, to the power of Greek philosophy. Within the walls of that ancient and illustrious city, were assembled those who gave law to the moral and intellectual world ; within her schools were concentrated the rich stores of infor- mation gathered from every age and country. She was still the em- porium of science ; the academy still flourished, and in her groves philosophy still maintained her ancient sway. It was to this city, it was to the disciples and followers of those great masters of human reason, whose writings have challenged the admiration of every age, and are themselves, if duly weighed, considered, -and studied, both in their excellencies and defects, the very avenue and portico to Chris- tianity ; it was to them that the great apostle proclaimed aloud the resurrection of the dead. The partial light displayed by the greatest luminaries of human reason, had neither itself dispelled the powers of darkness in their minds, nor taught them to look up with confidence to that heavenly light, which now burst in upon them in full lustre. Wlien they heard of the resurrection of the dead, ' some mocked, and others said, we will hear thee again of this matter.' The intellectual indolence of the Epicurean fled with precipitation from a thought so fatal to his voluptuous ease. The stern dogmatism of the Stoic re- jected with scorn what he never did, and therefore never would, believe. The academy perhaps would freely have heard him again of that matter, but it would have heard him only to have indulged the love of idle disputation, and to have repeated a system of sophistical objections." — pp. 58-59.
The next part of the work to which our inquiries will be drawn
Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects^ 223
is the series of sermons, delivered at Cambridge, upon the state of discipline in which the race of man, during this short portion of his existence, is placed.
In the treatment of this important subject, which comes home to the business and bosom of us all, the author has shown great judgment and ingenuity, as well in the views which he has taken of it, as in the arguments by which they are supported. To judge of these sermons, however, they must be well considered together as a whole, otherwise an imperfect opinion will be formed. But the chief circumstance to which we wish to draw the at- tention of our readers, is that in the worn and beaten path through which the subject seems to lead : the general line of our author's observations is very different from that of any of the numerous writers which have trodden it before him. With that nice tact already pointed out, for discerning all the forms and shades of that divine benevolence which is the true characteristic of the gospel, he has ha[)pily educed from the shifting and chequered scenes around us, new and fruitful lessons of gratitude and love. Taking it for granted that this life is a scene of discipline and trial — a position as clearly obtained by deduction from scripture, and particularly from the parables of our Lord, as if it had been expressly declared there ; and perfectly conformable to the whole scheme of things around us ; and presuming further upon the same authority, that it is intended to prepare us for heaven — ^biM; waving altogether the presumptuous queries, why man was sub- mitted to any trial, and why he was not placed at once in heaven, as unfit to be entertained by us on this side the grave, and totally incapable of solution — he proceeds to show from the moral his- tory of man, both before and subsequent to the fall, that the means prepared for this discipline were such, as it became perfect wisdom and perfect goodness to provide ; that sii^ce the fall, the knowledge which has been vouchsafed, with the aids, the graces, and the motives supplied to us in the gospel, are an ample compensa- tion for the evils entailed vipon us in Adam, constituting an in- crease of means in comparison with the danger ; and that while they have the strongest tendency to exalt and improve us under them, they display in vivid colours the grace and the kindness of our Creator. Finally, that in the rewards and punishments annexed to this scheme, and forming the completion of it, and particularly in the person of our Judge, infinite mercy is recon- ciled with infinite benevolence. The subject is closed in the fourth sermon, which seems scarcely finished by the author, with arguments and illustrations tending to show, that the difficulties in which our duties and even our speculations are involved, will be much cleared by scriptural views of the subject.
224 Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects,
In the prosecution of such a plan, it was difficult for him to avoid treading occasionally in the steps of the author of the "Analogy;" and considering the nature of his argument, particu- larly in the second or third sermons of the series, it was scarcely desirable that he should do so ; but he has made no slavish use of this author, and in the application of the principle for the attainment of his conclusion, he has all the merit of originality.
Under the first head, the objection to the supposed insignifi- cancy of the trial to which our first parents were submitted, is thus answered : —
" In answer to this, let us consider the circumstances under which our first parents were placed, when this trial was instituted. They were alone, the sole inhabitants, the sole rational inhabitants I mean, of this lower world. Trials of morality or self-government, of justice or of benevolence, were totally excluded from creatures in their situa- tion. Whom could they injure ? whose property could they invade — whose misery could they neglect — whose happiness could they promote —whose reputation could they sully ? Could they dishonour parents, or injure children ? Could they be disobedient servants, or tyrannical lords ? No. While they continued alone, all these relations, and the duties resulting from them, however necessary in a subsequent state ot the world, could not exist in theirs — the passions of sensuality, of avarice, of malice, could have no field for exertion. They could neither envy, hate, nor covet, for they were alone, and all was theirs. One duty only remained, the grateful adoration of that Being, whose blessings, unalloyed with pain, had been thus showered down upon them. This was at once their duty and their happiness. The sense of gratitude, to make it of value, must have been expressed by some external action, or trial of its sincerity. And how could this be more properly performed, than, as they were placed in the midst of a garden, by singling out one tree as sacred to "their Maker, by placing a prohi- bition vipon its fruit, and by declaring that constraint as the test of their gratitude, and their allegiance. And what trial could we imagine not only more natural in their condition, but more easy of obsen-^ance ! Here was no previous passion to be controlled, no previous desire to be repressed. As this was the only law given them, its violation was the only sin of which they were capable. Of good and evil, generally speaking, they had not purchased the fatal knowledge. They could therefore, even in idea, conceive but one sin, the sin of palpable dis- obedience to a command of God ; and this command attached to but one object. Nay more, the presence of the Almighty daily before their eyes, must have imparted awe to the proposition, and promptness to their obedience. Shall then the cavils of narrow-minded man pre- sume to arraign the wisdom of the Almighty, in imposing a trial ; not for its severity, not for its hardships, not for its cruelty ; but for its ease, for its mildness, for its mercy : not for the difficulty of obeying, but of transgressing it. From our extended knowledge of human 111^
RenhM^s l^ermons oh Various Suhjecis. ^^t)
we can all fig'ure to ourselves trials much more severe, prohibitions much more numerous, attended by temptations, which from the pre- vious state of the passions, are much more irresistible. It is then at the very facility of obedience that we revolt. The mind of man cannot adequately explore the mercies of God ; the more we contemplate them, the more infinite do they appear. What then could have sug-- gested the breach of so simple and so easy an injunction ? Not a natural appetite, but a moral motive : thoujvh the trial, by its very simplicity, showed the benevolence of God, it was yet of a very search- ing and probing nature, and thereby evinced the wisdom of him who imposed it. It was to try the understanding, the temper, the whole moral frame of the creature whom he had made in the image of his own mighty mind. ' Eat,' says the temj)ter, ' of the tree, and your eyes shall be opened ; ye shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil ;' or in other words, ye shall find that ye have been deceived by God ; ye shall be no longer vassals of his power, or the creatures of his bounty ; this God knoweth, and to prevent your independence and continue your servitude, he hath placed upon you this j)rohibition. How many points now of our moral nature, must these considerations have affected. Even these very propositions .showed how high in the scale of intellect and of reason man was created. But the intellect and reason which the very temptation supposes, ought and might with the greatest facility have resisted the assaidt. Man fell indeed by the fH.ud of the tempter, but it was a fraud which every consideration of ])resent happiness, of gratitude, of obedience, nay even of the very threat of the Almighty, ought to have detected and withstood. The offence was not from ignorance, or from negligence ; it was the res\dt of that contumacious pride, that faithless ingratitude, which induced them, and their guilty and lapsed posterity since, to transfer their alle- giance from their bounteous and gracious benefactor, to the adversary, the tormentor, and the destroyer of the human race. Blessed indeed would have beA our first parents, had they endured the temptation. The tree of life might have been theirs and their children for ever. Like Enoch of old, they might have been translated, without sin, without sorrow, and without death." — pp. 87-91.
The subject is delifrhtfnlly supported through the second ser- mon of the series, and in the third, (p. 114,) the following obser- vations occur respecting the punishment connected with the scheme : —
" In considering the consequences of this life, or the happiness or misery of another, we cannot but remark, that our life of trial is limited, our life of retribution is ludimitcd. The words of Christ him- self upon this point are too decisive to be explained away,* 'They
• It is a singular instance of inadvertency, tliat the wonh here quoted are those of the Athanusiau Creed, not of our Lord ; thouj^li the dcchiration was repeatedly made by Him im substance. The particular passage intended to be cited was proba- bly Matt. XXV, 46 : — " Aud these shall go away iuto everlasting puoishraent j but
226 Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects.
that have done good shall go into life everlasting, and they which have done evil into everlasting fire.' The eternity both of happiness and misery rests, in this and in various other passages, upon founda- tions precisely the same. Is it then consistent with the benevo- lence, and the justice of God, to inflict an infinite punishment for a finite crime ? Yet in the world now before us we may trace an ana- logy which strengthens the notion. For one single deed, a man may, very early in his life, forfeit his whole existence, either by the sword of justice, or the natural consequence of his crime. One dishonour- able act, committed perhaps in the precipitancy and inexperience of early youth, has hung a dead weight upon a man's character and ex- ertions, through the whole of a long life. But after all, if infinite punishment were the consequence of any single finite act, we might have some reason for our complaint. But the Almighty searches deeper than the act, even into the very spirit and soul of man. Here is the source of the evil ; it is the heart of man that is gradually cor- rupted and enslaved by habits that lead them to impenitence in this world, and to condemnation in the next. It is not against any single sin, the result of a natural temptation, but it is against the repetition of that sin, till by our voluntary act and deed it grows into a habit and perseverance, that the wrath of God is revealed. But here the consideration of a state of discipline comes in to our aid. A man is excluded from heaven and condemned to that state of miseiy, which such an exclusion of itself must entail. We are placed here to cherish and enlarge those habits, and those affections, which may prepare us for heaven, and follow us thither. If, on the contrary, we prefer the habitual indulgence of evil passions, can we wonder that those pas- sions shall follow us to an eternal world ? Our exclusion from heaven then is not to be ascribed to God, but to ourselves. If a man under the clear light which the gospel imparts, and the repeated opportuni- ties it affords, has never admitted the thought of heaven but with in- difference or distaste, if he has never so much as desired its enjoyment, can he justly complain of being excluded from the possession of it ? In what our future misery shall consist, we know not. The expres- sions of scripture are very general and very fearful. It may be said, that a spiritual body, such as at our resurrection we shall assume, is incapable of pain. This may be so, but we do not by this supposition get rid of either the difficulty or the danger. There is a pain of the mind, as we all know, severer far than any that the body can sustain ; this is the worm that never dies, and which preys on a wounded spirit; for putting our final misery even at the lowest, make it to consist only in an exclusion from heaven ; do we lessen the punish- ment?"
We think it will be clear to most persons who consider this pas- sage with attention, that regarded in the light of an answer to a
the righteous into life eternal :" where it is observable, that the force of the sen- tence is much weakened, byour translators having unaccountably rendered 07ie and the same word in the original, by two in the English, " everlasting" and " eteroal."
Reriners Sermons en Various Subjects. 227
particular objection, it is the least satisfactory part of the work ; and that neither the argument from analogy, nor that founded upon the aggravated nature of habitual sin, approaches even to a complete solution of the difficulty he states. The case seems to be this ; the awful decree of eternal punishment against those who die in sin is affirmed so frequently and unequivocally in the gospel, that it is difficult to reject it without doing violence both to the letter and the spirit of the passages in which they occur ; but when we proceed to scan the principles upon which the sen- tence is founded, we find the ground upon which we stand to be much too narrow, and our views much too limited for any satis- factory discovery or conclusion. " Now we see through a glass darkly," and till that period shall arrive when we shall know even as we are known, it becomes us to receive the doctrine with humi- lity, and when pressed with difficulties to remember the admonition of our Lord, " Strive to enter in at the strait gate." But were we disposed to reason upon the subject at all, it would be on a different ground ; we should say, judging from scripture, that there seems to be something in the nature of sin more essentially hateful and hostile to God, than our own views of the ingratitude and disobe- dience of man, strong and vivid as they are, can enable us fully to comprehend ; but not the less fearful to sinners on that account ; this we think is sufficiently proved in the doctrine of the atone- ment itself; which must be considered not only as a merciful provision for the pardon of man, but as a satisfaction to the offended justice of God, thus exhibiting the necessary union of sin and punishment under the most awful view. And if there are men (as too many we fear there are) who knowingly and advisedly reject the benefit of this vicarious sacrifice, they must bear the curse of sin themselves ; and how heavy and how lasting it is likely to be, may be in some measure conjectured from the nature of that atonement, by which the redemption of others was effected, the Son of God suffering the greatest agony and ignominy upon the cross. There is scarcely any limit under such a view to our estimate either of the offence or of the punishment. But after all, as our author afterwards justly asks, —
" Is there not enough revealed to leave in the breast of every individual, the fullest persuasion of the mercy and justice of God ? Have we not, at this moment, every one of us the power, if we will use it, to revoke the sentence of condemnation, which we may suppose, and justly sup- pose, to be suspended over our heads? It is the same enemy of mankind, that whispers in his heart, as in the heart of his first parents, * Thou shalt not surely die.' But did our first parents therefore escape ? We know the consequences of the first fall, and may God grant that none of us may feel the misery of a second I"
o2
228 Rennel's Sermons on Various Suhjecis.
From the last division of the subject, we extract the following observations, as illustrative of his position, that many of the ob- structions and difficulties of our state are cleared away by regard- ing man as in a state of probation : —
" In the different ages of life we clearly see the hand of God by these several gradations, leading the soul onward, and preparing it for heaven ; even in the earliest stage of the understanding, we find a soil peculiarly adapted for the reception of the good and evil, which should hereafter spring up into a harshest of immortality. ' Suffer little children,' says our Lord, ' to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.' The analogy between the growth of worldly and religious knowledge and exertion in the ardour of youth, and in the strength of maturer years, is too obvious to be here enlarged upon. But in age the analogy, in practice at least, generally fails. We speak of the calm repose of declining years, and of the satisfaction which every great and good man must feel in re- viewing the exertions and the glories of his better days ; and so he might, if he were really great and good. But too true it is, that all the weaknesses of the human mind at that season of life are constantly displayed, from the absence of those better powers, which in the pre- vious stages of existence, to some degree at least, abated their in- fluence. Disappointment, fretfulness, jealousy, and discontent, yet remain and increase, to imbitter the declining years even of the most prosperous, and to increase the painful consciousness of declining influence. It is true indeed, that as a compensation, providence has often added an apathy as to passing events, which serves in some measure, if not to mitigate the passions themselves, at least to remove the causes of their excitement. And yet perhaps in our minds, the remedy will appear more deplorable even than the disease. There is a feeling of degradation of our nature in old age, which, as rational creatures, we must allow and deplore. But here revelation comes in to our aid, and while it indicates the providence of God, affords a new field for the exercise of his mercies. Let us consider age and all its infirmities, not as the conclusion of our existence, but of our disci- pline ; comparing it both with what preceded, and with what is to follow. Trace the steps of the Christian through every stage of his moral probation, and bring him in the full consciousness of having actively discharged every social, eveiy individual duty, both to God and man, to the threshold of age ; and then consider the natural effect of this stage of life, upon a mind so constituted and so prepared. The very infirmities of years remind him that his reward is at hand. He considers himself more and more as the creature of another and a bet- ter state, and under the gracious dispensation of God, the very apathy he feels as to the objects of his former ambition, enables him more effectually to prepare his soid for its eternal abode. Here then we see the mercy of God in allotting to age an inappetcnce for the objects which agitate the woi'ld around him ; an ina])petence, not only propor-r tionate to the probable decline of power in this present world, bu^t
Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects. 229
especially adapted to prepare it for the world that is to come. But even with respect to present affairs, the soul of the aged Christian is not abandoned. In a mind thus daily under the immediate discipline for thing^s above, and at the same time in a full experience of things below, there will generally be found a justness of conception, an en- Ia;rged and chastened view of the present world, to which in no pre- vious stage of life, it has had the opportunity to attain. Tliis it is which teaches even those in the vigour of their manhood and intel- lectual powers, to rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man.
" Thus, as creatures of probation, are we reconciled to the weaknes*- and infirmity of years, observing the wisdom and benevolence of God in ordaining this last stage of our existence. To the Christian mind all the decline and desolation which are thought attendant on that period of life, are converted into springs of consolation and joy. We know that Christ will not cast us away in the time of age, nor forsake us when our strength faileth. One very important observatiori this view of the subject will suggest : if we see, as too often we do see^' this last stage of our trial unaccompanied with the blessings which-, have been mentioned, it is because, in the previous stages of existence,, the exercise of Christian discipline has been neglected or despised. In all the works of God, and especially in this his appointment of our earthly trial, there is a harmony and connection betweeh every stage and portion of it. If we have neglected to take advantage of the pre- vious portions of our life, we must not expect to receive the comforts and the supports which attend the latter. If in the trial of youth we remember our God, he will not forget u9 i6 the destitution of our age."— pp. 123-126. " 'v
His discourse on Providence, (p. 182,) which is continued in a second sermon, abounds with striking and eloquent pas- sages : —
" If, then, the interposition of a special providence, guiding, con- trolling, and directing every event in human life (whether, according to our limited conception, great or small,) is to be deduced by the soundest conclusions of natural reason, as it was adopted and incul- cated by the best philosophy in the pagan world ; how much higher sanction will it derive from the light of revelation, when upon the same grounds on which we question the particular interference of our Creator, we shall call in question also the special application of the sacrifice of our Redeemer, the personal influence of the Spirit of grace, and the grand and perfect system of Christian salvation ; which will thus be lowered down into inuneaning terms and empty generalities. Christ not only died for the sins of ages past, present, and to come, collectively, but he died for the sins of each man individually, as much as if he had died for him alone. If man applies not every hope and fear which Christianity proclaims, to his own peculiar case, if he feels not a personal participation in the great sacrifice of his Saviour, he
230 Renners Sermons on Various Suhjects,
loses that vital and animating' principle of faith, which, while it speaks hope and consolation to the soul, controls the passions, and reforms the heart. He who perceives not his own immediate interest in the redemption of the gospel, neither will he perceive his own immediate concern in the obedience which it commands ; if he forms a weak and erroneous idea of that portion of the new covenant which emanates from the Deity to man, he will not form a juster notion of that part which is due from man to God. If, as the scriptures inform us, to every one is given a measure of heavenly grace ; if to every faithful servant of Christ is promised the co-operation of the Holy Spirit, can we suppose that any moral action can be performed independent of its power, unseen by its wisdom, uninfluenced by its operation ? The Spirit of God searcheth all things — it witnesses every struggle with the infirmities of our mortal nature — ^it penetrates into the secrets of the heart, for it is God himself. If again, as revelation informs us, we shall be judged according to our works, and our Redeemer himself shall be our Judge, can we in reason suppose, that any, even the most trifling thought, word, or action, shall pass unobserved by his wisdom, or unrecorded by his justice ? As creatures of moral probation, not only are our deeds all numbered, but every circumstance in which we are concerned, of itself becomes a trial ; and as such, it is directed and controlled by that Saviour, who watches over us in every struggle of temptation, in every pang of affliction, and will so order the chain of human events, as not to ' suffer us to be tempted above that which we are able to bear.' Here then as upon a rock the Christian takes his stand ; upon the faith of the special providence of his Creator, his Redeemer, and his Sanctifier, he rests a sure and certain hope, during' the troubled scene of this his earthly pilgrimage. He recognises the counsel of God in every event, however minute, however casual. Not a hair can fall from his head, according to the words of his blessed Lord, without the will of his heavenly Father, He sees the hand- writing of providence in vivid characters upon every event which the changes and chances of this varying world disclose to his view. He acquiesces in every dispensation whether of pleasure or pain, whether of prosperity or adversity ; not with the absurd belief in fatalism, or necessity, but in a lively and consoling faith ; that however dreary and cheerless the prospect before him, every trial will be directed, every affliction mitigated, every casualty which can befal him controlled, by an infinitely wise and good Being, to that one great end of his moral government, the salvation of the just.
" To those who may feel inclined to dispute the superintendence of a particular providence over every action of their lives, and every thought of their hearts, let one question be put between God and their consciences — when are we most inclined to break forth into the im- pious declaration, ' the Lord shall not see, neither shall the God of Jacob regard ?' When are we most apt to doubt the existence of a superintending providence ? at those times I fear when we have most reason to desire its absence. When those hours which should have been dedicated to a better purpose, have been consumed in idleness
Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects. 531
and frivolity, then it is we hope that the power of the Almighty will not condescend to the trifles of the perishable existence of this lower world. When we have abandoned ourselves to the dominion of our passions, to the indulgence of our sensuality, to the slavery of sin, then it is, that we would throw the veil of insignificance over our conduct ; then it is, that we would believe in chance, or fatality, in any thing but the existence of a superintending providence ; being well assured, that if it does exist, it will exist to call us hereafter to a severe account for our sins and iniquities here. Who is he that ever doubted that his prayers and praises would not come up as a memorial before the Al- mighty ? Who ever doubted that every act of self-denial, of resigna- tion, of patience, of charity, however minute, however casual, has met the eye of that great Being who is ever with him, and that it shall stand recorded in heaven against the great day of the Lord ? He that is inclined to be sceptical on the subject of this superintending provi- dence, let him ever act, as if it really did exist, and he will then lose every doubt of its existence." — pp. 190-194.
The sermon on the " Anniversary of the Sons of the Clergy," has been printed before, but we cannot refrain from quoting the following appeal to the laity : —
" Thus, then, in the connection of the clergy with the laity, and in the Incorporation of the church with the state, do we find the strongest possible obstacle against the encroachments either of spiritual or poli- tical usurpation. An active, pious, and learned clergy will confirm the faith, improve the conduct, and engage the affections of their brethren in the laity : while a vigilant, zealous, and Christian laity will in their turn cherish the spirit, animate the labours, and give effect to the exertions of their brethren in the ministry ; ' provoking one another to good works' and to the labour of love. If the laity do their duty, the clergy cannot neglect theirs. The co-operation of the laity places a most practical restraint upon any tendency either to in- dolence or enervation in the sacred order, and forms a salutary check upon the spirit of dissipation or secidarity. Thus then from the united influence and affections of the parts, will the whole derive a permanent and steady support; thus will the peacefid empire of the gospel be enlarged, and the kingdom which is not of this world, grow and flourish in increasing strength.
" What is the character, and what have been the services of that por- tion of the Christian church, which, by the providence of God, has been established in our native land, it is not for the clergy, but the laity to testify. We are the ministers, they are the judges. With every allowance for the frailties and imperfections of our common nature, we trust that, as a body at least, we have not betrayed the high office and charge imposed upon us. We trust that neither the faith nor the practice of that pure and apostolic church, which was watered by the blood of our fathers, has suffered by the negligence or the degeneracy of their children. That holy fabric, which they sacrificed
232 "RetintVs Sermons on Various Suhjects't^
their lives to raise, it is our hope, as it will be our glory, to deliver unimpaired into the possession of our own posterity.
" At no -time has the church of England sought to aggrandize itself at the expense of the state, or to establish a separate and independent interest. Of the revenues, with which, from the earliest ages of its existence, it has been endowed, in our own days at least, it is not afraid to render an account. No mass of income is returned again into the country from which it springs, with more political advantage, none is carried into a more beneficial and wholesome circulation, than the revenues of the established church. Of no income, though divided among so large a body of men, is less expended in idle extravagance, less amassed in sordid avarice, or more bestowed in the great works both of public and private charity. In this respect, we trust that the kingdom of our English church is not of this world.
*' If to have maintained the principles of national order and of pub- lic justice — if to have resisted the voice of clamour and the blandish^ ments of popular applause — if this be the reproach of our church,, well may we, in the language of the apostle, ' glory in our infirmities.' To whatever obloquy or insult they may be exposed, the sacred order, I trust, will never sacrifice the line of conduct which the gospel has marked out, to meet the ebbs and flows of worldly opinion, or the sug- gestions of secular interest." — pp. 282-285.
The effect of our humane, national exertions for the preserva- tion of maritime property and life upon the minds and cliaractiers of seamen themselves, is thus happily described in his sermon before the corporation of the Trinity-house : — '',
" Secure then in the vigilance, and confident in the protection of a parental and a Christian country, the mariner goes forth with an intre- pidity all his own. Consciojis that he is the object of the most anxious concern, not only for the sake of his services, but of himself, he che- rishes in his heart every tender and amiable feeling, which such .^ consciousness is calculated to inspire. This is the principle which unites in the character of a British seaman, qualities so apparently opposite in their nature and direction. The perils that harden his frame, soften his affections. With native ruggedness and contempt of danger, he combines the softest feelings of humanity and love. Proud as he stands in the moment of triumph over a vanquished foe, prouder still would he be, when the conflict is past, to save the life of that very enemy, even at the hazard of his own. Few have equalled the seamen of England in courage, none have matched them in benevolence and mercy ! To the call of suffering, whether from friend or foe, their ears are never closed ; they go forth in the spirit of their Redeemer, less anxious even in the very heat of battle ' to destroy men's lives than to save them.' The wonders of the Almighty in the deep impregnate their souls with his fear, and the Christian principles of their country open them to his mercy. The same ' God that maketh a way in the sea and a path in the mighty waters,' hath found 'a temple' for his spirit in the hearts of them that are occupied thereupon.
Rennel's AScrmoM* on Various Subjects. 233
*' It is not in the superiority of our naval prowess, it is not in the extension of our conmiercial resources, it is not in the almost impreg- nable fortress of our insular situation, that as Britons, we rest the hope of a solid and a lasting prosperity. The victories and triumphs with which our arms have been crowned, are but the gleams of a pass- ing glory, dazzling the sight with a proud, but an unsubstantial lustre. Where are the nations, which in ancient and modern times held a rank in commerce and in arms almost as high as our own ? Some are vanished from the face of the earth, and of others the remnants only and the ruins yet exist ; the monuments, as it were, of departed great- ness. ' '- U r*.! >li "I' M ,')..iljb ■■,•;•,'
••i Would we lay the foundationsiofa^ substantial and a lasting strength, we must lay them deep in the rock of Christian benevolence. Institutions which have the preservation, the sustenance, and the com- fort of life for their object; institutions, which unite man to man, and man to God, form the only basis uj)on which we can hope to build a permanent superstructure of national glory. Upon these the favour of the Almighty shall descend, as upon the agents of his providence* and the instruments of his goodness. The voices of thousands and tens of thousands who have been rescued from destruction, suc- coured in distress, and suj)ported in age, shall make tlieir way to the throne of heaven, and shall call down a blessing upon these establish- ments of mercy, and upon the happy country i^i which they are cherished. ■ ,, ,,, ,. ^ .,,,,•,,, ;, . ■
" Praised then be the God and Feather of all, WhiOse providence has guarded, and whose Spirit has animated our native land, who, while he hath founded her dominion on the seas, has established her mercy upon the floods. Whether it be at home in protecting the persons, the happiness, and the morals of her children ; or whether it be abroad in restoring peace to a distracted world, may the policy and the powers of our country be exerted, as they ever have been, ' Not to destroy men's lives, but to save them.' ' Walk about Zion, and go round about her; tell the walls thereof ; mark well her bulwarks, set up her houses that ye may tell them that come Jiftcr ; for this shall be our God, forever and ever; hd shail be our guide even unto death.' "—
pp. 301-304. '" MP — ,,.n '^M',..! - , •■' .•.:.?,•.!!, .•■■...-.' . ..-,.,
We i^iave spoken of ,thc high value attached hy our author to the fundamental doctrines of our faith, and of the pure morality inculcated by him, and we cannot better confirm these remarks than by an extract from his Ordination sermon, (p. 14.) He thus forcibly and eloquently addresses the. candidate for orders : —
" Thus, then, adorned with every mpra,! ,ex(;^Ilen,ce, , supplied with every grace of learning human and divine, rich in that faith which is the concurrence of the understanding and the will, is he summoned to enter upon his high and holy office. His duties have been too seri- ously studied, his future conduct too long anticipated, to need either enumeration or enforcement from this place. To him as a Christian, as a son pf our church, as a minister of the gospel, with peculiar force
2S4 Rennel's Sermons on Various Subjects.
is addressed the precept of the apostle, ' Whatsoever thou doest in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' He is called upon, not only to act upon this principle himself, but to inculcate it upon the consciences and feelings of others. Let every Christian virtue be en- forced upon Christian motives ; let him never forget the high and leading doctrines of the gospel dispensation, which can alone control, and counteract the influence of passion. Man cannot live without the name of the Lord Jesus, without the hopes of a Redeemer, without the assurance, comfort, and co-operation, from above ; and if these living waters be denied him from the pure fountains of true religion, he will seek them amidst the turbid streams of enthusiasm and error. Most fatal, therefore, will be the neglect of the Christian minister, if he omits the urgent, the repeated, the full enforcement of this powerful and commanding motive. All exhortation, all precept, unless in union with this principle, is but a useless display of cold and artificial rhetoric. If the name of Christ be forgotten, in what name can he pro- claim to the children of wrath, the glad tidings of pardon and peace ? Under what authority can he sound an alarm to a sinfijl and infatuated creation ? In the name of Christ he received his awful commission, and in the same name must that commission be executed. Is he fear- ful that his ministry will be branded with fanaticism, and his doctrine derided as extravagant ? Let him beware, lest his very fears become the instruments of their own completion, lest his very dread of the in- crease of enthusiasm should add vigour to its growth, and strength to its cause. It is not in the refinements of philosophizing morality, it is not in the effeminacy of popular theology, nor in a mean compromise of every religious doctrine, that the church of England grounds her opposition to the efforts of fanaticism. He that wovdd successfully oppose its spirit, in any stage of its progress, must take his stand upon those high principles, which are perverted and misapplied by it. He that would successfully point out the absurdities of error, must fortify himself strongly within the fortress of truth. It is on the neglect of Christian motives, and Christian principles, that fanaticism takes its rise. It is from their admixture with truth, that its errors gain and support their influence. When profligacy or indolence, disgrace the lives of the minister or his flock ; when every article of the Christian faith is lost in oblivion, enervated by refinement, or lowered down to the standard of selfish and sensual practice, it is in vain, that they indulge themselves in idle invective against the extravagancies of enthusiasm. They themselves are the authors of its influence, and the ministers of its contagion.
" Let not o\u- vei7 apprehensions be the cause of our fall. It is not from the constancy of our faith, from the fen ency of our zeal, or from the innocence of our lives, that fanaticism Avill claim us as its disci- ples ; but from the application of these high and heavenly qualities, to the meanest and most earthly purposes ; from the prostitution of the name of our Redeemer, to the promotion of the interests and the extension of a party.
" Let the Christian minister, undismayed, disclose the mysteries of the kingdom of God, as they have been revealed to man in the dispensa-
RennePs Sermons on Various Subjects, 235
tion of the gospel. It is for him to proclaim the glad tidings of salva- tion and grace, upon the terms which God has been pleased to affix to them ; it is his commission to teach his flock to hope without presump- tion, and to fear without despair : it is for him to bind up the wounds of the afflicted, and, in the name of his Saviour, to sanctify the sorrows of a broken heart. Let him display the promises of the gospel in all their vivid colours. The cross of Christ will shine forth with a light too victorious for infidelity to withstand, or enthusiasm to pervert.
" Such is the high and commanding ground upon which our church erects her standard, such the foundation on which her bulwarks rest; even on the name of Christ. Let not her towers (be undermined, nor her strength diminished by an abandonment of this one predominant motive and principle ; much less, while assailed by a combination even of the most contrary powers, let her walls be sapped by the stag^ nant waters of indolence and sensuality. Whether it shall please the almighty Disposer of all human events, long to preserve this his chosen Zion, as the repository of his faith, as the ark of his covenant, as a blessing on this favoured nation ; or whether it shall seem good to afflict her with those tribulations, which, as a visible church, she is doomed to undergo ; she will still remain in the hearts of those, who in the name of the Lord Jesus have thus dedicated themselves to her service : their veneration, their duty, their obedience to this representa- tive of their Saviour upon earth, will upon this one principle remain unchanged, and their affection unimpaired. Though her fabric shoidd crumble to the dust, they will still look forward with the eye of faith to that blessed period, when from the congregation of the faithful here below, she, in the persons of her children, shall be translated to the communion of saints above, when from her militant and afflicted state here upon earth, she shall reign for ever triumphant in heaven !" — pp. 14-18.
In the twenty-sixth, one of his Kensington sermons, the cha- racter of our Intercessor, that cheering and delightful subject of the Christian's contemplation, is thus treated : —
" Who then shall be our Mediator ? Who shall be found worthy to take the charge of a perpetual intercession between God and man ? God cannot intercede with himself, and shall man intercede with God even for himself, much less for his fellow-creatures ? The glorious army of saints and martyrs were men even as we are, and equally need the blood of Christ to wash them from the pollution of their, human nature, and to present them a pure and living sacrifice before the throne of God. Shall we flee to the host of angelic beings as our mediators and advocates? We know not by revelation, nor can we be informed by reason, whether they are capable of even hearing our prayers. ' It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, yea, rather that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.' By partaking equally of the divine and human nature, he is, according to reason, the most appropriate and unexceptionable Mediator that can be
236 Rennel's' Sermons on Various Subjects.'
devised between God and man. Being- related equally to both, the balance of justice and mercy is poised with an equal hand. He there- fore is the true medium and centre of communication, to pour down from God to man all the mercies and blessing's, spiritual and temporal, from his kingdom above ; and again, to receive, convey, and recom- mend to God, all the prayers and thanksgivings, all the sorrows and suffering's, of his kingdom upon earth. Again, who is so fit to appre- ciate the strength of our temptations, who can be so sensibly touched with our sorrows, as that High Priest who was tempted as we are, and ' yet without sin ?' Through suffering he was consecrated ' the author and finisher of our faith ;' in our suffering therefore he will ever ex- perience the tenderest regard, for our afflictions he will feel the live- liest concern. • What temptation has befallen us, the weight of which he did not sustain ? What power of Satan has he not struggled with, in his glorious conquest over sin and death ? Who then shall intercede for our sins and our infirmities, but He who hath encountered their strength ? Who shall be our succour and refuge in our struggles with the world, but He the great captain of our salvation, who hath sub- dued the world, and led on to the paths of victory.
" When, then, the infirmities of our nature, the power and virulence of our ghostly enemies, the sinkings of our hearts, evince the necessity of an Intercessor and an Advocate; when Christ, 'who sitteth at the right hand of God,' is alone, because he alone can be, that Intercessor for us ; an Intercessor, who by previous hvimiliation and subsequent exaltation, proclaims himself alone, the worthy Advocate of his re- deemed people ; what remains for us, but to approach in humble con- fidence to the throne of grace, and having a free access to God, cheerfully to present our oblation of devotion and duty, with the full persuasion that it shall be accepted; and amidst all tlie sins and sorrows of this frail state, to join in the triumphant exclamation of the apostle, ' It is Christ that justifieth, who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ who died, yea rather that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.' How shall we stand excused in the sight of God for the neglect of means so gracious, of an Advocate so powerful : our cause is in the hand, not of man but of God. How can we answer for the omission of a duty, so sanctified in its very perforaiance ? Whether in our private devotions we pour out the sorrows of a penitent heart before our Redeemer, whether we offer on the altar of our God the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving in the congregation of the faithful, by scrip- ture we know that our offerings are purified by faith ; we are asvsured they are accepted : and to the hopes of accepted prayer, the soul of every suffering Christian, even though afflictions gather round, though the fear of death may come upon him, may, as on ' the wings of a dove, flee away arid be at rest.' " — pp. 333-336.
We would gladly make further extracts from the parochial sermons, if ovir space would peiTnit ; but we are tempted to ofler one remark applicable to them all.
Besides their general usefulness, in which respect they cannot
Rennel's Sermons on Parious Subjects. 237
be too strongly recommended, they will bear an exclusive value in the minds of his parishioners, from the many interesting and instructive recollections they cannot fail to revive there : but, ex- cellent as they are, they will convey to the general reader, only an imperfect notion of the effect of his addresses from the pulpit, because in no case do they contain dll that was delivered by him. Depending much, as we are told, upon the strength of his memory, and the ready flow of his expression, he was accus- tomed to reserve a portion of his discourse for those moments of inspiration which the solemnity of the scene, or the sympathies of his audience, might induce ; and it is probable that some of the best and most eloquent of his addresses were those which came thus warm and unstudied from his lips, and have no other place of record, save the hearts and understandings of his audience. But they will not therefore perish : — great should be the consolation to the numerous class employed in that most important office of the parochial ministry; so important, that all others have been considered as valuable, in proportion only as they contribute to the due regulation and the reward of this — great, we say, should be their consolation and encouragement to reflect, that their lessons of Christian love, speeded by the grace of God, may be in reality as permanent and extensive as they appear to be fugitive and local. Received with meekness into the hearts of their flocks, they rest not there ; but mingling in the endless combinations of human thought, they reappear under a variety of modifications and forms, are communicated from man to man, and propagated in a thousand channels to the end 'df time. '' ;
Here we must close our review. The length to which our extracts have been carried, will preclude the necessity of any further remarks from ourselves ; and this is precisely Avhat we wished : for, conscious of some partiality to the memory of the author, we think it fairer to refer the reader to the work itself, than to our opinion of it. One thing, however, it becomes us to add, — if the matter we have extracted should induce any one to believe that the good opinion we have expressed is not ill founded, we may assure him further, that he will not be disaj)pointed by an acquaintance Avith the rest. That there should be some little inaccuracies and obscurities of style, some inadvertencies and defects in the matter, cannot be surprising, when we consider that the sermons, for the most part, never received the last touches of the author, not having been intended for publication ; and that they have now been hastily committed to the press by the trem- bling and scrupulous hand of a jiarent, to Avhom has been allotted the trying but consolatory task, (for what can be more conso- latory, when such is the subject matter P) of editing the posthu-*
238 Life and Writings of Thomas Brown,
mous works of his own son ; but, notwithstanding these defects, which it would be invidious to specify, the usefulness of the work is well supported throughout, and the tone of it quite as equable as is either pleasing or desirable. In a word, we cannot sum up our feelings more forcibly than by saying, that should our labours happily contribute to give a greater circulation to the work, we shall take to ourselves the comfortable assurance, that we have thereby done an essential service to the cause of Christianity itself.
Art. XII. — Account of the Life and Writings of Thomas Brown, M.D. late Professor of Moral Philosophy iti the University of Edi7iburgh. By the Rev. David Welsh. Ijong- man and Co. 1825.
The subject of this article naturally divides itself into two parts : first, a sketch of the more important particulars in the life of Dr. Brown ; and secondly, an account of his philosophical works, comprising an outline of the history of metaphysical learning, as it has been cultivated in Scotland since the middle of the last century.
Dr. Brown was the son of a clergyman in the county of Gal- way, and was born in the year 1778. At the early age of seven, he was removed by a maternal uncle to London, where he was placed at school, first at Camberwell, next at Chiswick, and finally at Kensington. He showed a strong turn for poetry when a very young boy, and excelled so much in the composition of verses, that one of his school-exercises, the subject of which was the death of Charles the First, was thought worthy of insertion in a periodical work of considerable reputation. His English education was of the greatest service to him, for he proved a good classical scholar, and continued through life to speak and read with a pure and very agreeable accent. Among his class-fellows at Chiswick, he was wont to mention with much affection the present attorney-general ; and at the top of the list of his early friends he placed Mrs. Graham, the mother of the senior baron of the Exchequer, of whose kindness to him he retained the warmest remembrance to the latest hour of his existence. The influence which that enlightened person had upon his character, and the happiness which he enjoyed in her society, are very beautifully de^- scribed in the introductory verses to the volume entitled " Emily," which is also dedicated to the same intelligent patroness of his juvenile muse :■—
Life and Writings of Thomas Brown. 239
Ere one feeble line
My youthful heart had dared, that heart was thine,
So warmly thine, that years of sager lore,
More skilled to prize thee, scarce could love thee more."
At the age of sixteen he returned to his native country, in order to pursue his studies at the college of Edinburgh. It is stated by his biographer, that when attending the class of Dugald Stewart, he found time to write " Observations on Dr. Darwin's Zoonoraia ;" an undertaking which led to a protracted corres- pondence with that ingenious but fanciful author, not much to the credit either of his temper or his liberality. But the most remarkable incident belonging to the history of Dr. Brown's col- lege-life, is the fontiation of a society, called the Academy of Physics, of which the principal members besides himself were Messrs. Brougham, Horner, Erskine, JefTery, Birbeck, Leyden, Lord Webb Seymour, and the Rev. S. Smith. The reader will not be displeased to be made acquainted with the objects of an institution which embraced the names of so many individuals, who have since risen to a distinguished place in the eye of the public. The first meeting was held in January, 1797, Avhen Mr. Brougham proposed to the Academy a plan of business, which ■was adopted with a few modifications : — " The objects of the Academy shall be,
" 1. Pure mathematics, or the philosophy of quantity.
" 2. Mixed mathematics, or the philosophy of motion and its effects, comprehending subjects in which the data are inductive, and the reasoning mathematical.
" 3. The physics of matter, or the philosophy of body, in which the data and reasonings are both inductive.
" 4. The physics of mind, or the philosophy of mind, exclud- ing religious controversies and party politics. Mind is either general or individual; the physics of the former we term general politics.
" 5. The history of events, opinions, systems," &c. This " plan of business," it should seem, was not found suffi- ciently determinate and precise to confine the speculations of the members within due bounds. We perceive accordingly, that at a meeting holden in the course of the same year, the " Academy having taken into consideration the inconveniencies resulting from the Avant of general principles, which might be taken for granted in all physical inquiries, and from the free and unrestrained in- troduction of metaphysical points, on which the members, either from the strength of speculative or practical habits, or the ab- stract nature of the subjects themselves, can never come to an
Life and PTritlngs of Thomas BroiviK
agreement, judged it expedient to adopt the following principles, reserving to themselves the power of altering or modifying them as experience shall dictate : —
" 1. Mind exists — a something, of the essence of which we know nothing, but the existence of Avhich we must suppose, on account of the effect which it produces ; that is, the modification of which we are conscious.
"2. Matter exists— a something, of the essence of which we are entirely ignorant, but the existence of which we necessarily believe, in consequence of the effects which it produces ; that is, the sensations and perceptions which we receive by means of the organs of sense.
" N. B. — Under these two heads are excluded the supposi- tions of mind being a bundle of ideas, and matter a collection of properties, for a bundle of effects can never constitute a cause.
" 3. Every change indicates a cause ; but of the nature of necessary connection we are entirely ignorant.
" The Academy also exclude the following questions, to the effect of prohibiting any conversation on them, but without pre- venting the members from liearing of them incidentally, in papers not professedly on that subject, or taking for granted any opinion connected w ith them, ay the foundation of a hypothetical train of reasoning.
, " 1. The question as to a First Cause, or an infinity of causes.
'* 2. The questions concerning the action and passion of mind, liberty and necessity, merit and demerit, self-love and be- nevolence.
" 3. All general questions as to the nature of evidence ; es- tablishing as sufficient groxmds of belief, besides ihe evidence of sense and consciousness, that of memory; that of abstract truth, whether mathematical or metaphysical ; that of experience, or conclusion from Avhat has been to what will be; and that of human testimony.
"4. Questions concerning abstract ideas, establishing that we have general ideas ; that is, ideas of something on which a number of objects agree.
" 5. The question of existence of rights." We find, immediately after these resolutions were adopted, that Mr. Brougham w as appointed to examine " Holcroft's Trans- lation of Count Stolberg's Travels," and to report ; and that Messrs. Brown, Lang, (lillespie, and Brougham, were appointed a committee to examine the strata of granite imbedded in schis- tus, in the banks and in the bed of the water of Leith.
The extract now given will show, in the firet place, the land of
Life and WrUlngs of Thomas Brown. 241
speculations on which young men at Edinburgh choose to exercise their ingenuity, and display their reading ; and also the very vague and incorrect ideas with which they enter upon their meta- physical researches. The language in which their rules and limi- tations are expressed, affords the most ample proof that the young philosophers of Mo<lem Athens were grievously ignorant, as well of the boundaries of the science to which they meant to direct their thoughts, as of the powers of intellect which it was their business to employ in their mysterious investigations. They excluded from the number of legitimate inquiries, the action and passion of mind; that is, all the faculties which belong to the understanding, and all the sentiments which spring from ethical contemplation on the characters and pursuits of mankind. They rejected in like manner the very important discussions which respect the moral qualities of human action, merit and demerit, liberty and necessity, self-love and benevolence. What was there left, then, in the physics of mind, on which the talents and learn-
1 ing of the academicians coidd be exerted ?
f But this fraternity of wits succeeded at length in associating their names with the history of literature, in a manner much more imposing than could ever have resulted from examining into moral theories, or even from ascertaining the aihnities of granitic strata to a schistose formation in the water of Leith. From the Academy of Physics sprung the " Edinburgh Review." Messrs. Brougham, Horner, Jeffery, Brown, and Sidney Smith, were the original contributors to that popular journal. Dr. Brown wrote the article which appears at the beginning of the second number, on the " Philosophy of Kant;" but as some liberties were taken with one of his papers by the editor of the third number, he im- mediately withdrew his services from the review, and could never afterwards be induced to resume his connection with it. Mr. Jeffery was not established as editor till after the publication of the fourth number ; and it appears that the offence Avhich alien- ated Brown was given by a witty rector of our establishment, who still continues occasionally to enliven with his jokes the heavy pages of the northern periodical.
The events of Dr. Brown's life, from the time that he entered college as a student, till he became professor of moral philosophy, })resent very little variety. At first he appears to have directed
Ibis attention to law, but imagining that the labours of the bar |yould prove quite incompatible with the jmi-suits of elegant lite- rature, to which he was sincerely attached, he relinquished the hopes of eminence which opened to his ambition in the line of that profession, and with apparent inconsistency devoted his days of study to the less intellectual science of medicine. But it caii
VOL. I. ' R
2iZ Life and Writings of Thomas Brown,
hardly be said, that he ever practised either as a physician or surgeon. He became assistant to Dr. Gregory, so far as to give advice to patients wlao consulted him by letter ; still continuing to devote all his leisure hoars to the charms of poetry, or to the mi-" nute analysis of thought and feeling, in the less alluring field of metaphysical investigation. At length, in 1810, his most ardent wishes were gratified, by his appointment to the ethical chair in the university of Edinbvirgh, as the successor of Mr. Dugald Stewart ; whom ill health, and the desire to discharge some lite- rary engagements, had withdrawn from the active duties of the professorship. Dr. Brown obtained universal approbation, as au eloquent and very ingenious lecturer ; but his constitution natu-^ rally not very vigorous, was unequal to the toil of incessant study, and was observed by his friends to sink gradually under the pres- sure of that mental exertion which had become at once his busi- ness and his amusement. About Christmas, 1819, he found him- self compelled to discontinue his lectures ; and in the spring of the following year, he proceeded as far as London, in search of a milder atmosphere than that of Scotland, and died at Brompton, in April, at the age of forty-two.
Before we proceed to give an account of his philosophical works, it will be necessary to take a retrospective view of the pro- gress of metaphysical learning, north of the Tweed, during sixty or seventy years before his volumes appeared.
None of our readers require to be informed, that the " Essay on the Human Understanding," by Locke, gave rise in England to a new era in mental philosophy. It is equally well known, that the scholastic errors which adhered to his system were, by Be^ifie- ley and Hume, made the foundation of a species of theoretical scepticism, which threatened to undermine the pillars of truth, not only in metaphysics, but in morals and religion ; and, in short, in all the departments of human research, where belief is ultimately made to rest on intuition, or the authority of the senses. By the ancient metaphysicians it was assumed as an incontrovertible axiom, that nothing could be perceived but what was in the mind which perceived it ; and hence it was inferred, that we do not in reality perceive external objects themselves, but only the images or impressions of them by Avhich they are represented in the sensorium, Avhere alone they become objects of knowledge to the percipient or intellectual faculties. Entertaining no doubt of their own existence, or of the existence of the material world, the disciples of Plato, Anaxagoras, and Antisthenes, regulated their theory of perception in conformity with this natural belief: and reasoning, as they imagined, from analogy, they satisfied them- selves that, by some mysterious process which they never »t-
;! i
LAfe and Writings of Thomas Brown. 243
te«ipted ix> explain, there were conveyed to the mind ideas or images resembling the objects of external nature ; and that these images, as we have said, were not only the immediate and direct, but the sole, objects of perception, and the only medium by which the mind could arrive at the knowledge of matter.
Descartes, aware of the objections which might be urged against these conclusions, as assuming the existence of the mate- rial world, adopted the bold but very whimsical determination of founding a new system of metaphysics on the basis of absolute increduHty, and of admitting no conclusion in regard to the exist- ence or properties of things which was not established upon the strictest and most formal de<luctions of reason. Admitting the thi^ory of perception which was held by the ancient philosophers, that the mind contemplated all external things through the me- dium of ideas, he proceeded to establish, upon the ground of that theory, the main facts which the Greek metaphysicians took for granted, namely his own existence, his personal identity, and the existence of a material world. He b^an with sensations, of which consciousness supplies the evidence, and endeavoured to prove the existence of the things to which sensation bears a re- ference, that is, the things which are felt and perceived by the mind. I think, therefore, I am, said he ; and I perceive ideas of things, therefore the things which 1 perceive have an actual ex- ternal existence. In this way he proved, or meant to prove, what the ancients had wisely assumed as the basis of all reasoning— the existence of the percipient being, and of the objects which he perceives : and thus, while he boasted that he had put it out of the power of every reflecting man to doubt, he had just come from sowing the seeds of the wildest scepticism that has ever disgraced the annals of metaphysical science.
Mr. Locke, who followed the French philosopher in this depart- ment of research, adopted his leading principles, both as to the theory of perception borrowed from the Orientals, and as to the evidence or ground of belief which accompanies our sensations. But, in pursuing the same path, he arrived at conclusions which had not been anticipated by the sagacity of his master. Reflect- ing that the sensations of heat, colour, taste, smell, and all the other secondary qualities of body, have no resemblance to any thing material, he pronounced that in fact there are no such quali- ties in external objects; that they are merely sensations, and have no existence whatever, except in relation to a sentient creature. -Being sensations, they exist only in the mind or sensorium of the animal which perceives them ; and when they are not perceived, they do not exist. There is no heat in fire, more than there is pain in a knife : these effects respect exclusively the properties of
244 Life and Writings of ThdMm Brmbn.
a being which can experience the sensations which arise from the proximity of an ignited body, or from the separation of the muscles by a sharp weapon. >
At this stage of speculation, it only remained for Bishop Berke- ley to show, that the primary quahties of body have no greater resemblance to the sensations produced by them, than the second- ary qualities bear to their corresponding impressions: and from thence he inferred very logically, that we cannot possibly have any conception of matter; that the material world cannot be proved to have an existence ; but that the only things which exist are sensations and ideas, together with the minds by which these are perceived. Like Descartes, the venerable prelate was satisfied that he had, by this process of reasoning, established on the strongest grounds the interests of philosophical and religious truth ; that scepticism would for ever cease to agitate the faith of the pious, and to gratify the pride of the sophist; and that, as every one carried within himself the evidence of his belief^ in the ideas with which his mind was stored, and in the relations which subsisted among these ideas, the reign of doubt and of error would soon hasten to a close.
It was reserved for the perverted ingenuity of Hume to expose the absurdity of these principles, by carrying them to their utmost extent. Tracing the footsteps of Descartes, Locke, and Berkeley, he arrived at the extravagant conclusion, that, as far as the light of reason is to be taken as our guide, we must admit that there is i^ither mind nor matter in the universe. His great powers of undei-standing, and the peculiar dexterity with which, by insensi- bly shifting the meaning of the terms which he employed, he ap- peared to remove the intricacy of the most complicated argument; gave to his system an apparent firmness and support, which filled good men with amazement as well as sorrow ; they saw the dear- est interests of the human race exposed to the attacks of a sophistry which truth itself seemed unable to withstand ; and although they were convinced that the reasoning which supported so monstrous a conclusion could not be sound, they found them- selves destitute of the means 'whereby to detecti amd expose its fellacy. ' ^ ■ '"' '" - "'' ■ ' -• ■'■" i'.r.'-i',..;.i/ .,, :.,, ... ,
•^^ The philosophy of mind had reached this stage of error arid ([♦(infusion, when Dr. Rcid directed to it the powei-s of his saga- cious and penetrating intellect. The alarming deductions of Hume led him to call in question the principles of the ideal sys- tem altogether ; for he was obliged to acknowledge, that if their premises were graxitxidralL the .conclusions drawn from thereason.-? mg of Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, must be admitted, however repugnant to the ordinary notions of njankind, and however sub-
Life and Writings of Thotnas JBr&tm. 244
versive of moral and religious truth. He states candidly, that till the " Treatise of Human Nature" made its a})pearance, he had never thought of impeaching the principles commonly received in regard to the understanding. " The ingenious author of that treatise," says he, " upon the principles of Ixjcke, who was no sceptic, hath built a system of scepticism which leaves no ground to believe any one thing rather thim its contrary. His reasoning appeared to me to be just; there was therefore a necessity to call in question the principles upon which it was founded, or to admit the conclusion. — For my own satisfaction, 1 entered into a serious examination of the principles upon which this sceptical system is built : and was not a little surprised to find, that it leans with its whole weight upon an hypothesis which is ancient indeed, and hath been very generally received by philosojjhers, but of which 1 could find no solid proof. The hypothesis 1 mean is, — that nothing is perceived but what is in the mind which f)crceives it: that we do not really perceive things that are external, but only certain images and pictures of them imprinted upon the mind, which are called impressions and ideas,'* *
Rejecting, therefore, the ancient hypothesis in regard to per- ception, he endeavoured to prove, that ia-itead of perceiving ex- ternal objects by means of ideas and impressions made on tlie sensorium, the mind directly perceives these external objects themselves ; and that by an original law of our nature, sensation is constantly attended by the belief, that, there is something distinct from it in the material world, by» the presence ©f which it is excited. This obvious principle once admitted, the founda- tion of the ideal system, with all the sceptical doctrines which had been built upon it, could no longer be supported. The science of mind was immediately placed on the same footing with the principles of natural philosophy ; and it immediately became evident, that the knowledge of our, intellectual faculties could not be successfully prosecuted in any other way than by the ap- pUcation of that cautious lt>gic, to which mankind had already become iuflebted for an improved acquaintance with the laws and phenomena of the material creation, .n ,at 'o .ioiM o't ^.■; i ,:
That llcid (lid not misapprehend the doctrines of Berkeley, an4 Hume, might be proved at grf'at length, from the works of these ingenious writers. "We are percipient, jaf nothiog/' said the former, "but of otir own perceptions and ideas.") .'iltfis evideat," he adds, "to any one who takes a, survey of the objects of human knowledge, that they are either ideas actually imprinted on the
HtlUlir-iliMI -lU. _ ' »'■'' "/• >'■"
'*'*' See "ifntrbfluction to his Inquiry itttd'lne'lWiniili^lilibdou the Principles of Coraoion Sense. , : .aiuiu <! /'.u.iiijii-..- ■,;{] .;,;! ;.
246 Life and Writings of Thomas Brown.
senses, or else such as are perceived by attending to the passions and operations of the mind ; or, lastly, ideas formed by help of memory and imagination, either compounding, dividing, or barely representing those originally perceived in the foresaid ways. — Light and colours, heat and cold, extension and figure, in a word, the things we see and feel, what are they but so many sensations, notions, ideas, or impressions on the senses ; and is it possible to separate, even in thought, any of these from perception ? For my own part, I might as easily divide a thing from itself." Mr. Hume again asserts, that all our ideas are nothing but copies of our impressions / or, in other words, that it is impossible for us to think of any thing that we have not antecedently felt, either by our external or our internal senses. He assures us, that nothing can be present to the mind but an image or impression : and that the senses are only the inlets through which these images are con- veyed, without being able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object.
It admits of no doubt, that Mr. Locke himself conceived these images, or copies of impressions, to be the immediate objects of thought ; all our knowledge of the material world being obtained by their intervention. He enters regularly into the inquiry. How bodies produce ideas in us ? and " that," says he, " is manifestly by impulse, the only way we can conceive bodies to operate in." •' If then," he continues, " external objects be not united to our minds Avhen they produce ideas in it, and yet we perceive these original qualities in such of them as singly fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion must be thence continued by our nerves or animal spirits, or by some parts of our bodies, to the brain, or the seat of sensation, there to produce in our minds the particular ideas we have of them. And since the extension, figure, number, and motion of bodies, of an observable bigness, may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion which produces these ideas, which we have of them in us,"
Having stated the distinction between the primary ahd tlie secondary qualities of matter, he proceeds thus : — " From A\'hehce I think it easy to draw this observation, that the ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves ; but the ideas produced in us. by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them at all." The import which he here attaches to- the word re- semblance, as api)lied to our ideas of primary qualities, may be gathered from the following sentence, where he gives an account of the difference between them and our ideas of secondary quali-
Life mid Writings of Thomas Brown, 247
ties. " Flame is denominated hot and light ; snow, white and cold ; and manna, white and sweet ; from the ideas they produce in us ; which quaUties are commonly thought to be the same in those bodies that those ideas are in us, the one the perfect re- semblance of the other, as they are in a mirror ; and it would by most men be judged very extravagant, if one should say other- wise." " Methinks," he says, in another place, " the understand- ing is not much unlike a closet, wholly shut from light, with only some little openings left, to let in external visible resemblances or ideas of things without ; would the pictures coming into a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occa- sion, it would very much resemble the understanding of a matl^ in reference to all objects of sight and the ideas of them."
We have given these extracts in order to show, that Locke, Berkeley, and Hume held, to its full extent, the ancient doctrin^ in regard to perception, and believed that the only intercourse which the mind is capable of maintaining, with external nature, is that which takes place in the sensorium through the medium of ideas ; consequently, that the human soul does not contemplate external objects themselves, but merely their images, conveyed to it by the nerves, or some other part of the bodily mechanism ; and hence that these authors lent the support of their powerful talents to the conclusion already so often mentioned, namely, that we can possess no evidence for the existence of the material world, but only for the existence of ideas and sensations in our minds.
It was the object of Dr. Reid's first and ablest work to undei*- mine the foundations of that theory, which, after having reigned in the schools two thousand years, bewildered the speculations of Locke, Clarke, and Newton ; and aftenvards supplied to Berkeley and Hume the materials of a system which shook all the princi- ples of human knowledge, and took away from the deductions of mtellect, and even from the instinctive impressions of natural belief, the confidence and certainty which they have always been found to confer upon every soUnd understanding. The northern philosopher undertook to prove, that the human mind perceives, not merely the ideas of things, but the very things themselves ; that it is not simply the idea of hardness which follows the touching of a table or piece of metal, but the actual sensation of a hard and extended substance, external to the mind : such sen- sation being always accompanied with the belief, that the object to which it refers has a distinct and separate existence, indepen- dently of our impression of its qualities. According to him, when we look at a house, it is the house itself which we perceive, and not merely the idea of the house, situated in what Locke would
24S Life and Writings of Thomas Broivit*
have called the dark closet of the mind. In a word, our percep- tions bear a direct reference to the properties of matter, and not to the images of these properties in the sensorium ; and as all our perceptions are accompanied with an instinctive belief, that the objects Avhence they arise, have an existence independent of their relation to our minds, wq enjoy the most satisfactory evidence that the case admits , of, that there is around us a system d" material created substances. -^jv,
The labours of Reid put an end to the idealism of Berkeley and Hume. He showed, that the principles of their system were not only unsupported by any proof, hut contrary to incontestible , facts ; nay, that they wqre utterly inconceivable from the manifesti inconsistencies and absurdities which they involved. * * iJ
Dr. Priestley, it is well known, took the field against the Scpt^(| tish philosopher ; not with the intention of proving that his views were dangerous or fallacious, but to deprive him of the merit of originality where his opinions appeared of any value, and to con'^ vict him of ignorance in regard to many of the tenets which he' had impugned. Not content with tracing a close resemblance between the *'FirstTruths"ofLePereBuffier,and the fundamental '
{)rinciples of belief maintained by Dr. Reid, he asserted, that the atter had been all along waging war with a phantom of his own creation, for that the doctrines which he combatted were never seriously maintained by any philosopher, either ancient or mo^ ■ de^rij.j ", J^j^reiOur author had rested so much upon this argu^v injent,'^j^a^i,JiX,r^ Priestley, " it behoved him, I think, to have • exaimined the strength of it a little more carefully than he seems ~ to have done ; for he appears to me to have suffered himself to be misled in the very foundation of it, merely by philosophers happening to call ideas the images of external things; as if this ■' was not knuw7i to he a figurative expj'essioUi denoting, not that the actual shapes of things were delineated in the brain or upon the mind, but only that impressions of some kind or other werei '' conveyed to the mind by means of the organs of sense, and their corres])onding nerves, and that between these impi*essions and the sensations existing in the mind, there is a real^and becessauy,: thpiigh ^t present an unknown, connection." '*i ;('' < i ■ ' i ■ This statement betrays much ignorance or unfairness;o.It'is<'' impossible to open thp voJ.uraes of Berkeley or of Hume wiUw out perceiving, ^t the first glance, that the account now given of the word erf^a isat complete variance with their ordinary use of the same term. , pp, not all the reasonings which were deduced by these writers from I^cke's philosophy, against the independent existence of the material world, hinge on that very principle which Dr. Priestley affects to consider as merely an accidental
IAfe>mid Writings of Thotrias Brmuii. Hit
mode of speaking, never meant to be understood litei^ll^?' Had the metaphysicians who wrote prior to the time of Reid, used the terms ideas and images as mere figurative expressions, his work would indeed have })rovetl an absurd and most unseasonable in^ terruption to the progress of sotmd philosophy ; but so far was that from being the case, it is universally admitted among com- peteat judges, that the ideds of Descartes and his successors were little else (at least so t'sir as perception is concerned) than a new name for the species of the schoolmen ; — the various am- biguities connected Avith the word idea, says Mr. Stewart, having probably contributed not a little to shelter the doctrine, in its more modern dress, against those objectiort^ to Avhich it must, at a much earlier period, have appeared to be liable, if the old peripatetic phraseology had been retained. — The following pas- sage from Hobbes will show what Avas the doctrine of his age, and throw light, at the same time, on the opinions which prevailed all over Europe, at no great distance from the ci-a to which oUr observations a [>ply: —
a*< The philosophy schools through all the universities of Chris- tendom, grounded upon certain texts of Aristotle, teach that for the cause of vision, the thi»ig seen sendeth forth on every side, a^ visihle species, a visible show, apparition, or aspect, or a being ' seen; the receiving whereof into the eye, is seeing. And for the cause of hearing, that the thing heard sendeth forth an audible^ s])ecies, that is, an audible aspect, or audible being seen ; which * entering at the ear, maketh hearing. Nay, for thef cause of understanding, also, they say the thing understood seride^h forth ^ an intelligible S2)ecies, that is, an intelligible being seen ; which coming into the understanding, maketh us understand.- — I say not this," he continues, " as disapproving of the use of universi- ties; but because I am to speak hereafter of their office in a,, commonwealth, I must let you see, on all occasions, by the Way, what things should be amended in them, amongst which the frer/icenct/ of insignificant speech is one,"
The philosophy of mind cultivated in Scotland, Since the time ofDrvReid, may be characterized by describing it as directly.^' opposed to the idealism of Berkeley and Hume. In this part of the kingdom, the opinions of Locke in regard to pei'c^ptiqn have likewise undergone a thorough reformation, though no work,'" avowedly. on the subject, lias been allowed to take place, of his '5* celebrated «* Essay on the Human Understanding." The only sys- j tem of metaphysics, or, more properly, j)erhaps', of intellectual . physiologj/, which has, since the epoch alluded to, attracted any attention in England, is that which was brought forward by Hart- ley^ Priestley, and Danvin ; and which undertakes to explain all
250 Life and Writings of Tliomas Brown^
the phenomena of mind on the principle of nervous vibrations and the association of ideas. But the doctrines of these writers have not acquired any degree of popularity. The tendency which they manifested towards the conclusions of materialism, excited against them, in the first instance, a well-founded sus- picion : and the extravagance with which their leading specula- tions were afterwards defended, and pressed upon the acceptance of the learned world, left no room for doubt as to the unphilo- sophical nature of the views whence they sprang, and the per- nicious effects which they could hardly fail to produce.
The system of Dr. Reid has been very ably illustrated by Mr. Stewart, in a variety of publications. Without implicitly adopting all the opinions of his master, he maintains, with much talent, the soundness of his general principles, and particularly those which respect perception and the origin of our ideas. Dr. Brown^ to the consideration of whose works we have at length arrived, followed in the same track ; using, perhaps, greater freedom in his strictures on the Glasgow philosopher, and modifying more extensively the conclusions to which his reasoning has been found to lead. Unfortunately, for the credit of metaphysics, the one half of every new book is employed in correcting the errors con- tained in the publication which came out immediately before it ; and, what is still much worse, in order to be original it is only necessary to give a slight change to the meaning of a word. A whole system may be erected on the most trifling addition to the import of the most common term. On this ground, we find some discrepancies raised, in relation to the philosophical opinions of the three authors now named ; and in regard to one or two points of considerable importance, Dr. Brown has chosen to espouse the cause of Hume, in preference to the less accurate deductions of his celebrated antagonist.
Of these points, the most interesting, as well as the most diffi- cult, is the doctrine which turns on the relation of Cause and Effect. Hume's essay on that intricate question is well known to every reader of metaphysics ; and no one requires to be told, that the sceptical notions which he contrived to introduce into the examination of our ideas respecting that relation, created a very general prejudice against such inquiries altogether, as being either beyond the reach of human intellect, or totally unconnected with any legitimate system of mental philosophy. It occurs to us, however, that the peculiar difficulty which that writer en- countered, and the scepticism which he founded upon it, have not been accurately traced to their source, Hume does not deny, that we have the idea of poiver as applied to causation. He admits .that it finds a place in every mind, from the rank of .ft
Life t^d Wriithgs of Thomas Brown. 251'
philosopher down to that of the most ignorant peasant ; but as it is not possible, on his principles, to account for the generation of that idea, he is willing to regard it as nothing more (han an illu- sion. Proceeding on the theory of perception transmitted from the ancient schools to Descartes and Locke, he remarks, that *' it seems a proposition which will not admit of much dispute, that all our ideas are nothing but copies of our impressions, or in other words, that it is impossible for us to think of any thing which we have not antecedently felt, either by our external or internal senses. — To be fully acquainted, therefore, irith the idea of power or necessary connection, let us examine its impression ; and in order to find the impression with greater certainty, let us search for it in all the soirrces from which it may possibly be derived.— When we look about us towards external objects, ami consider the operation of causes, we are never able, in a single instance, to discover anypower or necessary connection, any quality which binds the effect to the cause, and renders the one an infallible consequence of the other. We only find that the one does actually in fact follow the other. The impulse of one billiard ball is attended with motion in the second. This is the whole that appears to the outward senses. The mind feels no Sentiment or inward impression from this succession of objects : consequently, there is not, in any single particular instance of cause and effect, any thing which can sug- gest the idea of power or necessary connection." He concludes by stating — " We have sought in vain for an idea of power or necessary connection, in all the sources from which we could sup- pose it to be derived. It appears that in single instances of the operation of bodies, we never can, by our utmost scrutiny, discover any thing but one event ibllowing another ; without being able to comprehend any force or power by which the cause operates, or any connection between it and its supj)Osed effect. The same difficulty occurs in contemplating the operations of mind or body, where we observe the motion of the latter to follow upon the volition of the former; but are not able to observe or conceive the tie which binds together the motion and volition, or the energy, by which the mind produces this effect. The authority of the will over its own faculties and ideas, is not a whit more com- prehensible : so that upon the whole, there appears not throughout all nature, any one instance of connection which is conceivable by us. All events seem entirely loose and se])arate. One event follows another, but we never can observe any tie between them. They seem conjoined but never connected. But as we have no idea of any thing, which never appeared to our outward sense ' or inward sentiment, the necessary conclusion seems to be, that [ we have no idea of connection or power at allj and that these
252 Life and TFritings of Thomas Browf^.
words are absolutely without any meaning, when employed eithei* in philosophical reasonings or common life."
This reasoning viewed in relation to Mr. Hutne's doctrines on the generation of ideas, is perfectly logical and conclusive. The idea of power not being derivable from any of the qualities of matter, primary or secondary, nor from the exercise of reason on any of our external or internal impressions, it followed naturally, according to the principles of the school in which he had learned his philosophy, that we have no such idea at all, and that the word expressive of it has, in fact, no meaning, either in scientific or popular language. The best and the shortest answer, there- fore, that can be given to every conclusion founded on such prin- ciples, is to assert, that we find ourselves in possession of simple ideas, and fundamental laws of belief, which cannot be traced td either of the two sources from which Mr. Hume, after the example of Locke and Descartes, undertook to derive all the elements of human knowledge. We are so constituted that every effect we contemplate, not only suggests the existence of a cause,' but also that quality in the cause which is usually described by the wbrds efficiency and power: that is, we instantly attribute to the antecedent a property analogous to the character of the con-» sequent, and measure the nature and extent of the former, by the phenomena which present themselves in the latter.
^ Dr. BroAvn in his " Inquiry into the relation of Cause and Effect" differs ostensibly from Mr. Hume, while, in fact, he conducts his examination on the same principles, and arrives nearly at the Same conclusion. - ;
" A cause," says he, " in the fullest definition which it philosophically admits, may be said to be, that which immediatdy 2)recedcs any change, and which emsling at any ti7ne in similar circumstances, has been always, and will be always, im7nediatcly followed by a similar change: Priority in the sequence observed, and invariableness of antecedence in the part of future sequences supposed, are the elements, and the only elements, combined in the notion of a cause. By a conversion of temis, we obtain a detinition of the correlative effect; and jjower is onljt anot'ier word for expressing: abstractly and briefly the antecedence itself, and the invariableness of the relation. — It is this mere relation of uniform antecedence, so important and so universally believed, ,\yj^jch appears to me to /constitute fiZi that can be idiilosophically n;xeant in the words power o^ causatioii^, to yvpfjsLt^Y^^T ob|^^^pfiater}al pj:^sp}ni^Q.l, the words maybe applied." f, * ' '' ; ' .
- ft 18 obvious that this is a mere description of certain circumt-: .stances attending causation, and that the author tacitly admits the conclusion of Hume in regard to the impossibility of forming any idea of power. The relation of cause and effect is resolved
Life and TTrilings of Thomas Brown, 253
into the constant and invariable sequence of two events. We are thereby presented only with the occasion on which our per- ception or behefof the relation is produced; but as to the nature of the relation itself, it follows that we know nothing, and cannot even form the most remote conception. That there is in the cause or antecedent the quality or power of producing the effect, is an inference which forces itself upon our understanding ; but this inference when strictly analyzed amounts, perhaps, to nothing more than to the constant and invariable sequence which has been already mentioned. » i ,1 , , ./-^ 'v.rr ,
Power, according to Dr. Brown, may receive exactly the same definition as property or quality ; all thethre^ expressing only a certain relation of invariable antecedence and consequence, in changes that take place on the presence of the substance to which they are ascribed. Power, property, quality, are, when employed in relation to physics, strictly synonymous. Water has ihapoiver of melting salt : it is the property of water to melt salt : it is a quality of Avater to melt salt — all these varieties of. expression, says.he,^ signify precisely the same thing, — that when water is poured upon salt, the solid will take the form of a liquid, and its particles be diffused in continued combination through the raass^ Two parts of a sequence of physical events are before our mind ; the addition of water to salt, and the consequent liquefaction 9^' what was before a crystalline solid. — The powers, propertias,! or qualities of a substance, are not to be regarded then, he continues^ as any thing superadded to the substance or distinct from it. They are only the substance itself considered in relation . U^ various changes that take place when it exists in peculiar circum- stances.— The qualities of substances, he repeats in another placp, however we may seem verbally to regard them, are separate, pV separable, are truly the substances themselves, considered by ¥|^ together with other substances, in which, a change of some sort i^ consequent on the introduction of , them. These are not sub- stances, therefore, and also powers and qualities, but substances alone. — The sensible qualities, therefore, whatever they may be, and with whatever names we may distinguish them, denote nothing more than the uniform relation of antecedence of certain external objects to certain feelingis which are their consequents''"" iniaUnu
We must acknowledge that, when the term ^>0f6rriS'u^6d'!lfi? synonymous with quality and property, the relation of cause and effect appears considerably simplified ; for as We cannot in any instance separate the quality from the substance^eveu by an effort of abstraction, we see niore clearly the reasQji why we caunot form the idea of power, except in so far as it may be resolved iiitO( the invariable sequence pf one event- upon the appearance, of
2S4 Life and Writings of Thomas Brown.
another, with which it has always been connected. We seem somehow to have got quit of the mysticism which has been thrown around the word power, and to have found a resting-place for our imagination in the less complicated idea of an ordinary pro- perty belonging to an ordinary substance : and no circumstance, perhaps, could prove more strikingly that we had never attained any precise notion respecting cause and effect, than the discovery we have just made, namely, tliat a different word may be substi- tuted for the one to which our supposed idea has usually been attached, and serve equally well to denote the metaphysical rela- tion which that other had been employed to express.
It is true, then, that though by the very constitution of our minds we are led to infer from every effect we contemplate the existence of an adequate cause, we have not in reality any idea of power in a strictly physical sense ; that is, in the two natural events which we denominate cause and effect, we perceive nothing besides constant and invariable sequence ; nothing in the former that must necessarily produce the other. Our knowledge of causation is not derived from the argument a priori; nor even after experience in the most familiar cases, is that relation dis- covered by any process of reasoning; but it is, in all cases, the object of intuitive belief; an inference which forces itself upon us, so soon as we have exercised our intellectual faculties on the phenomena of the material universe. It is, therefore, perfectly correct to say that we have the belief o^ power or efficiency, but that we have no idea oi either; a distinction which applies to much of that mixed knowledge, inference, and intuition, which constitute the furniture of our minds.
This distinction, however, has not been admitted by the author of Dr. Brown's life, who thinks it necessary to defend the Professor against a charge adduced by some of his antagonists, *' that he denied there is such a thing as power, or that we have any idea of efficiency." Dr. Brown does not, indeed, deny that there is such a thing as power, but he does most assuredly deny that we have any idea of efficiency. Not perceiving the difference between believing that a thing or quality exists, and the having a conception of that thing or quality, the biographer proceeds to give an expla- nation of Dr. Brown's opinions, which, in fact merely strengthens the ground on which the charge was originally made to rest : — ^<>vr.v" I am convinced," says he, "that nothing more is necessary than to refer the reader to the extracts I have already made from Dr. Brown's work, to show that the chaise is entirely without foundation. He does certainly maintain that power is nothing more than invariableness of antecedence ; but then in the course of his work, he states, again and again, in many varied forms of ex-
JJfe Snd Writings of Thomas BrdvM. 255
pression, that the very first time we see a sequence of events, we believe that in all similar circumstances, the same antecedent will be followed by the same consequent ; that we believe this by in^ tuition ; that it is impossible for us not to believe it. Nay, he says in express words, that the mind is originally led to believe causation in every sequence. It is vain to say, if this be Dr. Brown's doctrine, wherein does it differ from what every other writer maintains upon the subject ? that has nothing to do with the present question. That question is whether he did or did not admit of the existence of power, and of the idea of power ? If he did not, then, with all the love I bear his memory, I should re- joice to aid in the prompt exclusion of so monstrous a heresy."
Mr. Welsh even goes so far as to maintain that, " it is altogether unjust to accuse Mr. Hume himself of denying the idea of power. In the 'Essay on Necessary Connection,' Mr. Hume certainly does state as clearly as language can express that we have an idea of necessary connection. Dr. Reid ^vas the first who represented him as maintaining the opposite doctrine ; and his views, I pre- sume, have been copied by the writers who followed him, without their putting themselves to the trouble of consulting Mr. Hume's writings for themselves."
We are amazed at the ignorance which pervades the M'hole of this statement, in regard to fact as well as to reasoning. Mr. Hume does most assuredly deny that we have an idea of neces- sary connection, and Dr. Reid did not by any means misrepresent the doctrines of that author, when he ascribed to hira the opinion, now mentioned. After giving two definitions of a cause, Mr. Hume, in the second section of his essay, proceeds to remark that " though both these definitions be drawn from circumstances foreign to the cause, we cannot remedy this inconvenience, or attain any more })erfect definition which may point out that circumstance in the cause which gives it a connection with the effect. We have no idea of this conxection; nor even any distinct notion what it is we desire to know, when we endeavour at a conception of it. We say, for instance, that the vibration of this string is the cause of this particular sound. But what do we mean by that affirmation ? We either mean that this vibration is followed by this sounds and that all similar vibrations have been followed by similar sounds: or, that this vibration is followed by this sound, and that upon the appearance of oncy the mind anticipates the senses, and forms immediately an idea of the other. We may consider the relation of cause and effect in eith^ of these two lights ; but beyond these we have no idea of it.
Neither Hume, nor his pupil Dr. Brown, denies the existence of
256 Life and Writings of Thomas Broieii,
power ; but unquestionably if words have any meaning, they both deny the possibility of our ever arriving at the idea of power, or of pointing out in any cause, the particular circumstance which constitutes efficiency. The former author reminds vis again and again, that every idea is copied from some preceding impression or sentiment ; and that where we cannot find any impression, we may be certain that there is no idea. In all single instances, he adds, of the operations of bodies or minds, there is nothing that produces any impression, nor consequently can suggest any idea of power or necessary connection. But when many uniform in- stances appear, and the same object is always followed by the same event, we then begin to entertain the notion of cause and connection. We ihenfeel, says he, a new sentiment or impres- sion ; to wit, a customary connection in the thought or imagina- tion between one object and its usual attendant ; and this senti- ment is the original of that idea which we seek for.
It is manifest that the sentiment or impression here mentioned, is not that of power, or of necessary connection between cause and effect, but simply the feeling of a " customary connection in the thought or imagination ;" and as every idea, according to Hume, is the copy of an impression, it follows that the idea in this instance, must be that, not of power, but of customary connection in the thought ; which, as the same author observes, is the origi- nal of the vague idea, for which we endeavour to find a pattern or impression in the actual relations of physical events. For, as he justly remarks, as this idea arises from a number of similar in- stances, and not from any single instance, it must arise from that circumstance in which the number of instances differs from every individual instance. That this customary connection or transi- tion of the imagination is the only circumstance in which they dif- fer. In every other particular they are alike. It is clear, there- fore, we maintain, that there is a very great difference between this " transition of the imagination," and the philosophical idea o^ necessaiy connection in cause and effect.
We are surprised to find Dr, Brown himself taking the field in defence of Hume, and insisting that the author of the " Essay on Necessary Connection" did not deny that we possess the idea of power in reference to physical causes. This surprise is increasetl when we call to mind that Dr. Brown has repeatedly stated that the idea in question could never be found where Mr. Hume went in search of it ; and that the process which he adopted, and the history of the idea as given by the philosopher now named, were •' altogether inaccurate and inadmissible," " The belief of power," continues the Doctor, "is an original feeling, intuitive and immediate on the perception of change ; not borrowed from
Life (md ffritings of Thomas Brown, 28f
any resemblance in the ti*ansitions of thought.' ' Mr, Hume, in- deed, speaks of the idea of power and of necessary connection, as he was accustomed to speak of other errors or prejudices which prevail in the world ; but every one who has read his Essay must be satisfied that the result of his investigation, according as he chose to conduct it, was that neither of the bad ideas could be derived from the exercise of the intellectual faculties, and that they were only to be found growing out of a sort of mental habit, superinduced by custom ; a source on which no reliance could be. placed, and from which Dr. Brown himself assures it, the idea of, power could not possibly proceed. We therefore continue to hold the opinion that Dr. Reid was in the right, and that the late Professor of Moral Philosophy and his biographer have extended, towards Hume a species of candour, which is more closely re-, lated to charity than to truth. 13ut to prevent mistake we take leave to repeat, that the sceptical essayist did not deny that the idea of necessary connection was entertained by mankind at large, or that he frequently alluded to it in his writings, as ^, universal, or at least a very general, conviction in uninstructed minds. We simply maintain that he regarded it as a kind of illusion or prejudice : that when he endeavoured to trace it iji the principles of human knowledge, he confessed it was not to be discovered ; and that he at length imagined he saw it originating in a quarter where, it is admitted on all hands, it could not pos- sibly be generated. In truth, Hume himself was perfectly aware that, in referring the idea of necessary connection to the " cus- tomary transition of thought and imagination," he was making an indirect acknowledgment that such an idea had never yet been formed by the human mind, and that (he word which ex- pressed it was entirely destitute of meaning.
We do not urge these considerations with a view of exciting a groundless odium against Hume, or even of calling in question the accuracy of his general reasoning on this particular subject. On the contrary we are convinced that, notwithstanding some important mistakes, he conferred on philosophy a great obligation by the light which he difl'used on the relation of cause and eii'ect, and more especially by removing from the argument much of the mysticism in which it had been involved by former inquirers. We agree with Dr. Brown, that-m ,,.a
" The itisplc!6h 'attached to hJs dWctflne with respect to it, mu#t' have arisen from the g-eneral character of his writings, not from atten- tion to this particular part of them ; for since all arc able to understand the words of praise or censure in which a general character may be conveyed, and few are able to weigh and appreciate the works from which that character has arisen, there are many who hate and dread a
VOL. I. s
238 Life and Writings of Thomas Brown »
Bame, without knowing why it is that the name should be dreaded, and tremble at the consequence of opinions which, if they knew what those opinions were, might seem to them as void of danger as their own, from which they have perhaps no other difference than of the mere phrases employed to express them."
The amount of the service rendered by Mr. Hume to physical science, will be best appreciated by those who are acquainted with the notions entertained relative to causation by some of the older philosophers, and even by several who lived at no great distance from our own times. The distinction of causes by the peripatetics into efficient, formal, material, and final ; and into occasional, physical, and efficient, by certain modern authors, could have no other effect than to confuse language, and impede the progress of knowledge.
" In the system of occasional causes which formed a part of tlie Cartesian philosophy, and which was founded on the difficulty of imagining any mutual agency of substances so little congruous as mind and matter, the direct agency of these upon each other was de- nied in every particular case ; and the changes which seem to be reci- procally produced by their mutual action, were ascribed to the direct operation of God. According to this doctrine it is He, and He alone, who, when light is present affects our minds with vision : it is He, and He alone who when we will to raise our arm, produces the necessary con- traction of the muscles. The presence of light in the one case, and our desire in the other case, are the occasions, indeed, on which the Omnipo- tent Power becomes thus active ; but they are instrumental only as occa- sions ; and but for the direct interposition of the Almighty himself, in both cases, there would be no vision though light were for ever present in the healthy eye, and no contraction of the soundest muscles, though our mind were wholly occupied from morning till night in willing a single motion of the arm." '
Dr. Brown has introduced many valuable reflections into this department of his subject, and exposed most successfully the futility of those distinctions upon which some authors, compara- tively recent, have supported the doctrine of physical and efficient causes ; which, as he remarks, are just the occasional causes of Descartes under a new form and denomination. There is like- wise a great deal of very ingenious reasoning displayed, in the fourth section of the third part, on the certainty of physical inference, independent of experience, in regai'd to the inertia of matter, and the phenomena connected with equilibrium and the composition of forces. This, in our opinion, is the ablest and most original part of Dr. Brown's work, and assuredly displays a very rare talent for analysis, as Avell as a minute acquaintance with a very intricate branch of mechanical philosophy.
Life and Writings of Thomas Brown. 25§
Upon the whole, the doctrines on cause and e^eci maintained by Dr. Brown, are those which were first expounded by Mr. Hume. There are three propositions at least for the clear enunciation of which we are exclusively indebted to the latter, and which consti^ tute the groundwork of the system constructed by the former. First, That the relation of cause and effect cannot be discovered a priori ; secondly, that even after experience the relation cannot be discovered by a process of reasoning ; and thirdly, that the relation is an object of belief alone, and not of perception or of deduction. "These propositions," says Mr, Welsh, *'so far as tiiey go, contain what may be considered as the established creed of philosophers. But to these he added two other propositions, which, though in accordance with his theory of impressions and ideas, are by no means in accordance with the phenomena that he introduces them to explain. The first of these propositions is, that the relation between cause and effect is believed to exist between objects only after their customary conjunction is known to us ; and the second is, that when two objects have been fre- quently observed in succession, the mind passes readily from the idea of the one to the idea of the other ; from this transition, and from the greater vividness of the idea, thus more readily suggested, there arises a belief of the relation of cause and effect between them. In a very full examination of these two propositions, Dr. Brown has shown that the customary conjunction of events is by no means necessary to our belief of causation ; and that from a single sequence, the belief of power often rises with irresistible conviction. And in regard to Mr, Hume's theory of the manner in which our belief arises, Dr, Brown has most satisfactorily shown that it is at variance with every fact connected with this part of our nature,"
Besides the " Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect," there is in the hands of the public another philosophical work written by Dr, Brown, consisting of four volumes. It contains the lectures delivered to the young men attending the moral phi- losophy class at Edinburgh, during the ten years that he held the appointment of Professor, These lectures are printed verbatim from the manuscript found in the possession of his family after his death ; and as they have deservedly attracted considerable attention, the following circumstances respecting their composi- tion, will not fail to be regarded as an interesting morsel of literary history, " He seldom began to prepare any of his lectures till the evening of the day before it was delivered. His labours generally commenced immediately after tea, and he continued at his desk till two, and often till three in the morning. After the repose of a few hours he resumed his pen, and continued writing often till he
s2,
260 Life and Writings of Thomas JBroivn.
heard the hour of twelve, when he hurried off to dehver what he had written. When his lecture was over, if the day was favour- able, he generally took a walk, or employed his time in light reading, till his favourite beverage restored him again to a capacity for exertion. His exertions during the whole of the winter were uncommonly great ; and with his delicate frame, it is surprising that he did not sink altogether under them. For several nights he was prevented from ever being in bed ; and upon one occasion he did not begin his lecture till one o'clock on the morning of the day on which it was to be delivered. The subject of many of his lectures he had never reflected upon till he took up liis pen, and many of his theories occurred to him during the period of composition. He never indeed at any time wrote upon any sub- ject without new thoughts, and those often the best, starting up in his mind. It gives an additional value to the printed lectures to know (and there is the most satisfactory evidence upon the sub- ject), that nearly the whole of the lectures that are contained in the first three volumes, were written during the first year of his professorship, and the whole of the remaining lectures in the fol- lowing season. In going over his lectures the following year, his own surprise was great to find that he could make but little im- provement upon them. As he continued to read the same lec- tures till the time of his death, they were printed from his manu- script exactly as he wrote them, without addition or retrench- ment."
It could hardly be expected that lectures composed in such circumstances, should contain a complete system of ethics, and of intellectual philosophy. Our confidence in the soundness of Dr. Brown's views is greatly diminished when we call to mind the information supplied to us by his biographer, that " the subject of many of his lectures he had never reflected upon till he took up his })en, and that many of his theories occurred to him during the period of composition.'^ But it should seem that in the meta- physical school of Edinburgh, novelty and boldness of s'pecula- tion constitute the principal charm of the lectures. A theory, like a coach or a suit of clothes, must only be used for a certain time, and then give place to a newer fashion, or more splendid materials. The doctrines of Reid are superseded by those of Stewart, and at length comes Dr. Brown, who tells his pupils that those old gentlemen were mere blundering dreamers, and that they must receive the gospel of metaphysics from the inspi- rations which were regularly vouchsafed to him every evening after a cup of strong tea. The present Professor again declares, we presume, that he cannot understand Brown's infinitesmal jinalytics ; that the speculations of his predecessor ascend far
hxfe and Writings of Thomas Brown.
above the transcendentalism of Kant ; and that if the intellectual nature and moral attributes of man are ever again to be rendered intelligible, we must ap[)roach nearer to the earth, and take a more practical view of what the human being does, and feels, as an actual member of society. What becomes of the poor stu- dents during this random play of mental aerostation P Why, they gaze at the philosopher who is up for the time ; and the farther he goes into the clouds they like him the better, and pass the the louder praises on his personal courage and the buoyancy of his machine : and when he comes do'vvn to let a younger aeronaut have his turn, they immediately forget his exploits, in admiration of the gas and silk which are about to darken the atmosphere, in a new voyage of discovery. It cannot be surprising, there- fore, that we should agree with Hobbes, in the quotation given above, that among the things to be amended in universities, the frequency of insignificant speech is one !
We should not, however, tlo justice to Dr. Brown, did we omit to mention that there are in his lectures more ingenious reasoning, and a greater number of original views, than are to be found in any modern work with which we are acquainted. His various theories, even if they did occur to him for the first time during the period of composition, give proof of a very acute and pene- trating mind : exciting, as we peruse them, a feeling of deep re- gret that he did not live to review his labours with the more cool and impartial eye of riper years, and prepare them for the press, not merely as discourses read to very young men, but with a more direct reference to the actual state of knowledge that obtains in the scientific world. A sketch of his system may be given in the following words. Confining the inquiries of ])hilosophy to an examination of mental phenomena, as mere states of the mind, without attempting to unfold the nature of the thinking and feel- ing principle itself, he divides our intellectual and .sensitive imr- pressions into these classes and orders : — ^^^o'♦ 'Ao \>(»Vvi>v ^i>\>
" Of these states or aflTections of mind, when we consider them in all their variety, there is one physical distinction that caimot fail to strike us. Some of them arise in consequence of the operation oi external things — the others, in consequence of mere previous fiaelings oi the mind itself. , ■ > j
" In this difference, then, of their antecedents, we have aground oi primary division. The phenomena may be arranged as of two classes, the external affections of the mind, the internal affections of the mind.
" The former of these classes admits of very easy svibdivision, accord- ing to the bodily organs affected. The latter may be divided into two orders, intellectual states of the mind and emotions. These orders which are sufTiciently distinct in themselves, exhaust, as it appears to me, the whole phenomena of the class." - >-''^'*«»^''
262 Life and Writings of TJiomas Browri^
This classification is, no doubt, both ingenious and satisfactory; being much more simple than the cumbrous enumeration of Reid, and sufficiently comprehensive to include all the powers and sus- ceptibilities of the human mind. But many of the minor details are objectionable both in principle and language. The mind, for example, is identified throughout with its own operations : thought is represented as being merely the mind in a state of thinking ; anger, love, and desire, are the mind in so many different states ; and, in fact, the mind is described as consisting of its own ideas and feelings, and therefore incapable of existing but when it thinks and feels. It is a mere bundle or succession of ideas and emotions. We admit, indeed, that an attempt is made to obviate this objection ; but it must be obvious to every one, that the lan- guage of the defence is inconsistent with the expression, as well as with the general tenour of the doctrines to which it refers.
There is perceptible, too, throughout the whole work, a tendency to find fault with Dr. Reid and his opinions, and to lower that distinguished writer as a philosopher and author. By means of a paltry kind of special pleading, an attempt is made to prove that his controversy with the idealists, Descartes, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, originated in a mistaken view of their doctrines in regard to perception. No one who has made himself master of the metaphysical tenets which were held by those ingenious phi- losophers will agree with Dr. Brown ; for it must be granted, either that the disciples of the Cartesian school did not understand their own language, and that the world ascribed to them a set of opinions which they never maintained, or that Reid's strictures on their system were just and well founded. But we find, more- over, that Dr. Reid was frequently attacked when Mr. Stewart's reasoning was the object of the lecturer's vituperation. In a letter to Mr. Erskine he confesses this ruse de guerre in the fol- lowing terms : " I was very much constrained, as you may believe, by the unpleasantness of differing so essentially from Mr. Stewart, on many of the principal points. But I conceived that it would be more honourable to state at once my OAvn opinions, than to seem to introduce them afterAvards in other years ; and I>r. Reid's name fortunately served every purpose when I had opinions to oppose, in which Mr. Stewart perhaps coincided. I got off there- fore pretty well in that way ; though I must confess that it was one of the most unpleasant circumstances attending my situation."
We must not forget to mention, that Dr. Brown composed six Or eight volumes of poetry, written generally after the manner of Collins and Akenside ; but which, with the exception of one piece, named the *' Paradise of Coquettes," have not gained for their author the meed of praise. Mr. Erskine, in one of his letters
Optics. 263
to him, very successfully points out the source of his failure, by stating that he "cut blocks with a razor." He was so nice about his words, that he allowed his thoughts to evaporate while search- ing for an expression. At all events, Dr. Brown's fame will not be supported by his poetical eminence.
Mr. Welsh concludes the " Life" with a highly wrought cha- racter of its subject, as a man, a poet, and a philosopher ; but like many other unskilful eulogists he defeats his own end by say- ing too much, as also by inadvertently drawing aside the veil, and showing the original instead of the picture. For instance, after extolling Dr. Brown as the most amiable, and candid, and self- denied, of human beings, he adds, as one of the shades to the brightness of his excellencies, a tendency to give too little credit to the motives of those ivho differed from him in sentiment"-— one of the worst tendencies, it must be confessed, that can darken any character, whether literary or political. Again, after praising his philosophical style and talents in terms of the most unbounded admiration, he acknowledges "that Dr. Brown often shows a preference of what is subtle to what is useful, and is sometimes more ingenious than solid." He even applies to him the remark which Buonaparte made on La Place : — "// cherchoit des siibtilit^s partout ; et portait enfin V esprit des infiniment petits dans r administration." " His style," he continues, " is too abstract, and his illustrations are not always introduced in the manner that might give them most effect. Many quaintnesses, both of thought and expression, are to be found in his writings. His sentences are often long, sometimes involved," &c. &c. Of these observations we have only to say, that if the author believed them well founded, he ought to have drawn his pen through the twenty pages of hyperbolical panegyric which immediately pre- cede them. Let those, however, who wish to have a favourable specimen of Dr. Brown's talents and manner as a metaphysician, read with attention the " Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect."
Art. XHL — 1 . Prof. Schumacher's Astronomische Abhand- lungen, Altona, 1823. A Memoir on Befractive and Dis- persive Powers, by M. Frauenhofcr.
2. Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, Vol. IX, On a Monochromatic Lamp, S^'c, by Dr. Breivster. — On the Absorption of Light by coloured Media, by J, F. W, Hers- chel, Esq.
264 Optics.
3. Sotne Account of the late M. Guinand and his Improvements in the Manufacture of Glass, 8vo. London, 18^.
M. Frauenhofer has been long known on the continent as a very distinguished practical optician. He has succeeded beyond any artist in this country in producing flint glass for optical pur- poses, of the most complete transparency, and freedom from flaws and defects. This superiority in his glass has enabled him to pro- secute some very important researches, an account of which is contained in the memoir named at the head of this article, as in- serted in French, in the well known journal of Prof Schumacker.
His primary object was to determine with great exactness, for the formation of achromatic object glasses, the dispersive powers of different species of glass. He first tried the effect of correcting the colour by opposing prisms, viewed through a telescope, which is in fact the same method as that originally proposed by Dr. Brewster. But it became an object of attention to examine the dispersion of each coloured ray separately. To do this is a pro- blem which has always been attended with the essential difficulty, of not being able to fix upon rays in the spectrum which are strictly homogeneous, and which can at all times be identified with cer- tainty. In order to get over this difficulty M. Frauenhofer tried, without success, different coloured media and flames : to trials of this kind we shall have occasion to allude in the sequel, as leading to some important discoveries. Our artist, however, next adopted a plan which he considered successful ; this was to place six lamps in a row behind a small aperture, close before which was a prism. The separate spectra of each lamp were thus throAvn, so that the prism under trial, which was placed at nearly seven hundred feet distance,^received only the red rays (for example) from one lamp, and the blue from another, &c., by which means the colours ap- peared in the form of distinct spaces, separated entirely from each other. We cannot help feeling some difficulty as to the applica- tion of this method, but perhaps the description itself is not the clearest that might be given. We do not feel sure that the rays were strictly homogeneous ; however, they were capable of exact identification from this further contrivance : a narrow aper- ture was made in the screen above the six lamps, through which the light of another lamp passed and was received on the second prism ; in viewing this, a bright line Avas seen at the limits of the red and yellow spaces ; this was exactly defined, and by means of its invariable position, in comparison with the coloured spaces below, the obsener could always be assured that the same identical ray fell on his prism. A number of measurements were thus made with great exactness, from which the great differences in the
optics. 2B3P*
ratios of refraction for the same ray in different media, are clearly ascertained.
But the most important point was the appearance of the bright line above mentioned ; this M. Frauenhofer next proceeded to study ; he found it exhibited alike by the light from all flames, &c. when received through a narrow aperture. He next tried the light of the sun; this was received into a dark room through a . narrow crevice, at the distance of twenty-four feet, by a prism of excellent flint glass : in looking at the spectrum thus formed through a small telescope, he observed not only the bright line before spoken of, but an infinity of lines, some dark and some bright, crossing every part of the spectrum at right angles to the direction of its elongation, and not forming the boundaries of the different coloured spaces, but existing in the middle of them, and in fact distributed in some places more plentifully than in others along the whole length, in some parts more con- spicuous, and in others more faint. Of all these lines the ob- server has given an accurate delineation ; he connted upon the whole 574 of them ; if the aperture be so wide as to subtend an angle of more than 15'' at the eye, the lines disappear. Some of the fainter ones also are not seen, unless the eye be shaded from the glare of the brighter parts. With English fliut glass, M. Frauen- hofer conld only see the brightest lines ; but with every sort of glass of his own manufacture, and with prisms formed of liquids, they were all distinctly seen. He then proceeded by an extended series of measurements, with a repeating circle, to determine the angles of deviation which these lines formed when viewed through different media. These lines in fact supply the great desideratum in re- searches of this nature, and enabled him to determine the devia- tions belonging to points in the spectrum strictly definite, with any degree of accuracy. "'^ "
From observing the great number of lines crossing' the spectrum, we might be led to suppose that the inflexion of light at the edges of the aperture had some connection with the j)henomenon ; in order to examine this point, M. Frauenhofer varied the experiment in the following manner : He received the ra)^s through a small circular hole nearly 15" in diameter; the spectrum thusfbrmed had almost no breadth, but in order to widen it, M. Frauenhofer made the rays pass through a semi-cylinder of glass, by this means the length and order of colours remained unaltered, but the breadth being magnified, he saw as before all the lines. By means of the same coutrivance he detected similar lines in the light of the planet Venus, without employing any aperture ; the brightest lines only were visible, but they coincided in position with the correspond- ing ones in the solar spectrum. The light of some of the principal
266 Optics,
fixed stars was subjected to the same examination ; in some of these, lines were observed in positions different from those before observed. The electric light was tried in the same way; the points of two conductors were connected by a fine fibre of glass, along which the succession of sparks was so rapid as to produce the appearance of a fine line of light. In the spectrum formed by this light, (without passing any aperture,) lines different from any of the former were observed. The light of several flames was similarly examined, and several curious results obtained.
Such is a brief outline of the most important parts of M. Frau- enhofer's experiments ; they indicate a very remarkable property of light, and present appearances which we beheve have not yet been accounted for on any known principles. We must here take occasion to remind our readers, that the discovery of the fact itself, (though evidently unknown to M. Frauenhofer,) was made some years ago by Dr. Wollaston. His experiment was however somewhat different ; and owing to the great superiority of his glass, M. Frauenhofer has the merit of having ascertained the almost infinite number of those lines, which in Dr. Wollaston's experiments appeared only a few. M. Frauenhofer must also have the credit of being the first to apply these lines to the pur- pose of accurate determination of the dispersive power, although Dr. Wollaston made a few observations of this kind. It may be satisfactory to many of our readers if we here mention, that with an ordinary prism of English glass, the principal lines may be very well seen, by looking through the prism at a narrow aperture in a shutter, or screen placed against a window so as to receive the light of the clouds ; this was Dr. Wollaston's method : his ex- periments are given in the " Phil. Trans." 1802 ; he examined also the light from flame. If any of our readers are inclined to try the experiment, Ave recommend particularly to them to look at the blue part of a candle flame through a narrow slit ; the separation of the colours is very wide and complete.
The mere inspection of the prismatic colours is sufficient to show that the different parts of the spectrum, independently of their colour, possess very different degrees of brightness or illu- minating intensity. The late Sir W. Herschel was, we believe, the first who attempted any accurate determination of these rela- tive intensities ; he found the greatest illumination in the yellow- ish-green space, and a gradual decrease from thence towards each extremity. M. Frauenhofer tried similar experiments by a different method, and his determinations were made with greater attention to exactness than perhaps any former; but there appear to us two essential difficulties in his method.
In the first place, the intensity of each coloured ray was to be
Opti6$, 267
equalized with the white or yellowish light reflected by a plane mirror from a lamp ; M. Frauenhofer considers it easy, with a little practice, for the eye to judge of this equalization with the requisite accuracy. This we must confess appears to us very doubtful ; though the sensation of colour and of intensity may possibly depend on modifications of the same cause, yet the two sensations follow such very different laws, and that difference is dependent upon principles so wholly unknown to us, that we can hardly conceive the possibility of abstracting so entirely from the idea of colour that of intensity, as to enable the mind to decide in any thing like a certain and satisfactory manner, upon the equality of illuminating effect in lights of two different colours simultaneously presented to the eye.
Another and more serious difficulty appears to us to arise from the following considerations : Supposing the illuminating inten- sities to be really equal ; it is well established that if two rays of light, one of a colour approaching more to whiteness than the other, be presented in juxta-position to the eye, the deeper colour of the one will be diluted by the proximity of the lighter colour of the other ; that is to say, though not actually combined or blended together, the sensation which the one produces in the eye tends to diminish that which arises from the other. If this, as is highly probable, is owing to the different convergency required for the two, it will obviously take place in a greater degree in proportion as the coloured ray differs in refrangibility from the white. (See Edin. Phil. Jonrn. No. 19, p. 33.)
Whatever weight may be attributed to the objections against this particular method, it is certain that the illuminating intensity sustains a regular decrease from the central yellowish green to the violet on one side, and the red on the other. The series of numbers given by M. Frauenhofer decrease in a more rapid ratio than those found by any other observers, and the tendency of the causes just considered as influencing his results, would be pre- cisely that of producing this rapid diminution. But the decrease of illuminating power towards the red boundary, will become a point of considerable interest in the sequel.
M. Frauenhofer's observations on the illuminating powers of the prismatic rays, led him to several suggestions of practical import- ance in the construction of telescopes. He attends particularly to the distinction between diminishing the aberration of colour, and producing greater distinctness in the image ; as also to the aberration from the want of achromatism in the human eye. When different specimens of glass were examined by the accurate test of the spectral lines, the difference in their dispersive powers was shown, when not otherwise capable of detection. M. Frauen-
268- Optics,
hofer found differences of this kind in specimens taken not only from the same crucible, but from the opposite parts of the same piece of glass. By unwearied diligence and laborious trials he has, however, at length succeeded in the manufacture of flint glass, to such a degree, that in a crucible containing four hundred pounds, two pieces, one talcen from the bottom, and the other from the top of the same mass, exhibited absolutely the same power.
This becomes the place for noticing the results obtained by a Tellow labourer in the same work, M. Guinand. The small publi- cation we have named relative to this individual, is one which we have perused with considerable interest, as exhibiting a remarkable instance of the power of intuitive mechanical skill, in surmount- ing all the obstacles which circumstances and situation conspired to place in the way of its developement. M. Guinand was the son of a joiner at Neufchatel : as a youth he worked at that trade; subsequently made watch cases ; and thus acquiring some idea of casting metals, undertook, on examining a reflecting telescope, to make one ; in which he soon succeeded, without any knowledge of optics, and left entirely to his own resources for every part of the work. His next attempt was to make a pair of spectacles. He learnt the art of grinding and polishing the lenses by having once witnessed the process. He hence proceeded to make lenses for telescopes, and constructed several small refracting ones. He now accidentally became acquainted with the principle of the achromatic object glass : and all his energies and labours seemed concentrated upon the means of endeavouring to procure glass free from imperfections for this purpose. This is in fact one of the most difficult problems with which the practical optician is concerned ; and the patience, the sagacity, the perseverance,which M. Guinand displayed, in a long series of attempts under the most discouraging circumstances, to obtain his object, were truly surprising. At every failure he seemed to be occupied solely in studying the cause Avhich had occasioned it. And thus, step by step, he contrived to approach at length towards the wished for ob- ject, and produced glass more free from striae and imperfections than any before made. Every disappointment taught him some further improvement, and it was thus that he acquired, what is perhaps the distinguishing characteristic of his method, the mode of joining together into one large disk separate pieces of glass, selected as the most perfectly homogeneous. These he contrived to soften and unite together again, after which they were formed into the required lens, without any perceptible joining or imper- fection ; in this way he has formed lenses of twelve or eighteen inches diameter. In 1805, his fame had reached M. Frauenho- fer, who invited him to Bavaria, to give his important services to the
I
Optics. 269
establishment of Benedictbauern, where glass for optical purposes is largely manufactured under M. Frauenhofer's direction. The glass made by M. Guinand has since become known over Eurdpe ; specimens have been tried by the opticians and astronomers of France and our own country. The report of that eminent artist, M.Tulley, as to its great superiority to any made in this country, is couched in the strongest terms; and there can be little doubt that owing to the very perfect transparency which it possesses, we may expect a great increase in the power of refracting telescopes, hitherto so much limited in their degree of improvement. M. Guinand returned to his native place, and continued the construc- tion of telescopes with uncommon ingenuity and success, himself not only having melted, formed, and polished the glasses, and calculated the adjustments, but also constructed every part of the apparatus, and put it together. This remarkable example of un- taught genius died in 1823, aged seventy-six. His secret is con- fided to his son, who \mdertakes to continue the manufacture so important to the scientific world, upon the same principles as his father.
We before mentioned that M. Frauenhofer's first attempts were directed to obtaining homogeneous light by means of flames and coloured media ; inthishewas unsuccessful. Dr. Brewster, however, and M. Herschel have been more fortunate. In the memoirs above named by these two distinguished individuals, a great num- ber of experiments are detaileci, having in many instances a similar object in view.
Dr. Brewster was in want of homogeneous light, to illuminate objects under microscopic examination ; Mr. Herschel wished to obtain it for the prosecution of certain optical researches. Dr. Brewster after numerous trials ascertained the remarkable fact, that almost all bodies in which the combustion is imperfect, such as paper, linen, &c. gave a light in which strictly homogeneous yellow rays predominated ; that the yellow light increased with the Immidity of these bodies ; and that a great proportion of the same light was generated when various flames were ui-ged mecha- nically Avith a blow-pipe, or a pair of bellows. He thence con- cludes, that the yellow rays are the produce of an imperfect com- bustion. However, the most important circumstance was, that the presence of aqueous vapour increased the quantity of yellow light ; this was a new fact, and supplied Dr. Brewster with a lamp whose light was truly homogeneous. Diluted alcohol is the pabulum he employs, and he has suggested a convenient form for a lamp for the purpose wanted.
Various media, such as coloured glasses, were also tried. Dr. Brewster investigated the effect of heat in changing tlie tints of
S70 Optics.
these glasses ; in some the power of absorbing particular colours is altered transiently, in others permanently. He tried the effect of different media in absorbing the different rays of the spectrum, and has given delineations of the spectrum as seen through different coloured glasses.
In Mr. Herschel's experiments the object was nearly the same in the first instance, but he has pursued it in a somewhat differ- ent manner from Dr. Brewster, and has arrived at some other results of considerable consequence.
He first examined, as also Dr. Brewster did, the effect of certain coloured glasses in almost obliterating certain coloured spaces in the spectrum, whilst others were transmitted in all their brilliancy. This fact was first noticed by Dr. Young : Mr. Herschel, in apply- ing to the examination of it the uncommon powers of his analy- tical skill, has resolved the phenomena into their most general expression, and thus traced the cause of many interesting conse- quences which otherwise would not have been deduced.
For example: one of the glasses he tried was of a ruby red co- lour ; this permitted to pass almost the whole red, and a consi- derable portion of the orange ; and even in strong lights a portion of yellow or a trace of green, but the rest were obliterated. He represents the effect by conceiving a straight line divided accord- ing to the proportions of the coloured spaces, to be taken as the abscissa, and at each point ordinates erected representing the pro- portion of rays transmitted by any medium ; the extremities of these ordinates give a curve, which he calls the type of this me- dium. The nature of this curve is determined by observation for each medium ; butMr.Herschel has given an analytical expression, showing the law by which the nature of the curve is altered, ac- cording to an increase of thickness in the medium : this is in fact one of the most curious parts of the subject.
" It would appear at first sight," Mr. Herschel observes, " that the ef- fect of doubling or tripling the thickness of any coloured medium,would simply be to increase the depth and intensity of the tint, but not to alter its character. If a white object appear blue through a blue glass, we should expect it to appear still bluer through two, and yet more so through three such g^Iasses. The above formula shows, however, tliat this is so far from being the case, tluit the tint of the emergent pencil is essentially dependent on tlie thickness of . the medium; and that it is only from a knowledge of the relative values of the ratios of the intensity, after traversing a thickness equal to unity, for the various parts of the spectrum, that we can say d. jJriori, whether the tint of a thick glass will retain any similarity to that of a thin one of the same kind." (p. 447.)
The fact is, the quantity of any coloured ray, transmitted by an
Optics. 271
homogeneous medium, decreases in geometrical progression, as the thickness increases in arithmetical. Thus, however trifling the difference may be at first in the effect of two media, it is always possible to render it sensible by taking a sufficiently great thickness ; thus the water of the lake of Geneva is indigo-blue, that of the lake of Como, emerald-green, when viewed through a considerable thickness, though colourless in small quantities. Of this, numerous other instances will occur ; such as the difference in the colour of the sea according to its depth, so well known to pilots, as often enabling them to perceive their approach to shoals, &c.
" In some instances, the curve has two unequal maxima in different parts of the spectrum ; and if at the same time the greater of these should happen to correspond to a ray of feebler illuminating power than the less, the tint, in small thicknesses of the medium, will (generally speaking) be that of the lesser maximum ; the greater vivid- ness of these rays giving them a predominance over the others, though more numerous ; but as this inequality of number increases with the increase of thickness, the feebler rays will at length begin to influence the tint, and finally obtain the predominance : th\is producing, in several cases, a complete change of colour, not a little surprisiuff to those who are ignorant of its cause. Dr. Thomson's muriated liquor, (chloride of sulphur,) which is yellowish green in very small thicknesses, and bright red in considerable ones, is a case in point ; a solution of sap green presents the same phenomenon yet more strikingly. If enclosed between glass plates, slightly inclined, so as to form a thin wedge, its colour towards the edge will appear emerald green, and towards the back blood red, passing in the intermediate thicknesses through a kind of livid neutral tint."
The existence of any real Iiomogeneous yellow in the solar spectrum, has been denied by Dr. WoUaston. The researches both of Mr. Herschel and of Dr. Brewster tend to show, that though the insulation of these rays in perfect purity may not be practicable, yet they may be so far separated, as to place their existence beyond all doubt. Dr. Brewster considers these rays as encroaching on the limits both of the red and green. Mr. Herschel attributes to them a breadth not less than one-fourth of the interval between red and blue. Dr. Brewster draws the conclusion, that bolh the orange and green arc really composite colours.
Of the numerous subsequent experiments of Mr. Herschel, we shall not give any details ; they are all of a very interesting nature, and exhibit several very singular changes in the aspect of the spectnim, by a mere addition of thickness in the coloured glasses : the curves which represent them, are all delineated.
From the solar light, Mr. Herschel afterwards turned his attention
1272 Optics.
to that from flames, &c. : these lights differ extremely in their types when examined by the prism, and that in an apparently most capricious manner. Among other results, he found that sulphur, at a stage of inflammation which is extremely violent, as when thrown into a white hot crucible, emits a perfectly homogeneous and bril- liant yellow light. In examining the light of a spirit lamp, it was found to become perfectly homogeneous when viewed through a ■glass consisting of a pale orange and a pale green one cemented together. A latitWn formed of such glass, would afford a mono- chromatic lamp for microscopical purposes.
Some beautiful appearances are detailed, as produced from the tinge given to flames by Various substances held in solution with alcohol, &c. '
■ One of the'' first glasses which Mr. Herschel tried, and One which gave the most important results, was of that blue kind with a purplish tint which is employed for finger glasses, &c. ^\1ien the spectrum is viewed through a thickness of .04 inch of this glass, the red space was divided into two by a dark line ;'^other changes took place in the rest of the spectrum, which we need not here 'detail. With a double thickness of this glass further alterations were observed ; among which was that the cuter red alone re- mained visible, the inner being totally obliterated. When a great many thicknesses were laid together, the extreme red and violet only were transmitted. Mr. Herschel directed his attention par- ticularly to these outer red rays, aiid we extract the following
important observations upon them: — b'
5 ; " The species of light alluded to is remarkable ; first, for its perfect homogeneity, and, secondly, for its position in the spectrum. When the solar spectrum received on a white paper in a darkened room is viewed through a moderate thickness (.08 inch) of that glass, cemented to any red glass of a tolerably pure colour, it will be seen reduced to a perfectly circular and well-defined image of a deep red colour. If a pin be now stuck in the centre of the red circle, it will be found, on re- moving the glass from the eye, to have been fixed in what an ordinary observer would call the very fiirfheM termination of the red rays ; and a mark similarly made at its circumference, will appear to lie wholly without the spectrum, among the dispersed light which usually hangs about its edges : in other words, the red, thus insulated, is of too feeble an illuminating })ower to etiect the sight in the immediate vicinity of the other more brilliant rays, and only becomes visible when they are ex- tinguished, or greatly enfeebled. To an eye defended by such a glass, vision, through a prism with the largest refracting angle, is as shaip, and the outlines of minute objects as free from nebulosity and indis- tinctness, as if the rays had suffered no refraction. These characters, — .the absolute homogeneity Of the rays, — their situation precisely at the least refracted limit of the spectrum, and the facility with which they
Optics. ^*?3
maybe insulated, render them of peculiar importance as standards of comparison in optical experiments."
In this simple and unpretending manner does Mr. Herschel announce, what we must consider one of the greatest accessions to the catalogues of optical facts, which has been made since Newton first pointed out the unequal refrangibility of the primary rays. To their number Mr. Herschel has added another, whose existence had not previously been suspected : in the analysis of light he has detected a new ingredient, and has thus found a new and exact means of measuring the dispersive powers of different media. To this purpose he has, at the conclusion of his paper, applied the insulation of these extreme red rays, and of the .extreme violet: the deviation thus obtained, being of course greater for every sort of glass than any obtained by former methods, and the measurement extremely exact, from the circumstance of the rays being precisely defined and truly homogeneous. The method of operating is, we believe, new, and very simple.
The utility of the extreme red rays for this purpose is unques- tionably very great ; but the fact will be interesting to philosophers in a variety of other points of view. We have already made some remarks on the decrease of illuminating intensity in the different spaces of the spectrum, from the centre to the extremities : this is closely connected with the existence of invisible rays. It has been ascertained that the eye is somewhat deficient in its power of con- verging red light: from this cause alone, if the red rays were pre- sented to it in an insulated state, the outer part of the red would be indistinct, and it would be very probable that certain extreme rays might exist which would be altogether invisible ; but when the rays are presented in juxta-position, the influence of the central rays which converge at a shorter distance, will tend to increase the deficiency in the perception of the extreme red ; and this would be the case, on the supposition that all the rays pos- sessed an intrinsic equal illuminating power, and were all of equal density: but if in this respect they differ, (as we have seen they do,) the diminution will be still more considerable. It would thus be evident, that at whatever distance from the central point the real termination of the spectrum were situated, the apparent illu- minating powers must decrease by a much more rapid law, than the absolute and intrinsic intensities would do : so that the ap- parent limit of the spectrum, would be at a much shorter distance from the point of maximum illumination.*
• For some able illustrations bearing on this point, we refer our readers to s paper by Dr. Brewster, *' On the adjustment of the eye," Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. 1, p. 77.
VOL. I. T
2/4 Thierry's History q/" the Conquest.
The discovery of the new red rays has, as might be expected, excited great interest ; they have been recently examined by Mr. Powell, who has measured their deviation, and observed them also, in the moon's light. In forming the spectrum, as in Dr. Wollaston's experimentabove described, theirappearance is remarkably distinct; in the spectrum of the blue part of a flame they do not exist, although there is much of the more refrangible red.
On the peculiar importance of these rays, in respect to another branch of physical inquiry, we will not here enlarge, as we believe we shall shortly have a more appropriate occasion of noticing them.
Meanwhile we have to trust to the indulgence of our readers for the length to which our present subject has led us ; but we can assure them we have used our utmost endeavours to compress into the shortest compass, all that appeared to us most likely to be ge- nerally interesting, in the recent history of optical researches.
Art. XIV. — Histoire de la Conqu4te de V Angleterre par les NormandSy de ses Causes, et de ses Suites, jusqu'a nos JourSy en Angleterre, en Ecosse, en Irelande, et sur le Cant inent. Par Augustin Thierry. 3 tome. Paris, 1825. — History of the Conquest of England by the Normans, with its Causes from the Earliest Period, and its Consequences to the Present Time. Translated from the French of A. Thierry, &c. 3 vols. 8vo. London.
Our readers cannot be ignorant, that of late years much has been done to elucidate our national history. A new era seems to have opened among us ; and our writers, disdaining to walk tamely in the footsteps of their predecessors, have determined to consult the original documents, and to think for themselves, unfettered by precedent or authority. The consequence is, that the supre- macy which Hume had so long enjoyed, has been shaken ; his negligences, and errors, and partialities, have been repeatedly ex- posed ; and his admirers, even in their attempts to prop up his declining reputation, have silently admitted that he has no claim to those qualities, which form the chief praise of the historian, patience of investigation, and fidelity of statement. ■ Nor has this spirit of research been confined to our own country. The work which lies before us, both in the original French and 'ill its English translation, constantly appeals to original texts and
lliieiry's Htstim/ of the Conquest. 'j^fff
documerits; aiid its author, Mr. Ati^ustm de Thiferry; flatter^ Himself that he has taken so amply frbm these sources, as " to have left little worthy of citation." His subject, the conquest of England by the Normans, is certainly of sufficient interest to form a work by itself, but the reader will be deceived if he stippoise it to include no other period of our history. The author has sought the causes of that conquest in the Very fii^t cblonriation of this island, and has deduced its consequences, in some instairiceS, down to the present day. He has even contrived to connect ^ith it the history of the Welsh, the Scotch, and the Irish, the Normans of the continent, the Bretons, the Aniouans, and the several nations of southern Gaul ; an immense outline, which he has filled iip in its several parts with very different success.
That Mr. Thierry is a writer of considerable talent, Atid ex- tensive reading, is sufficiently attested by his work: but to thesfe qualities he adds two others, not very favourable to historical accuracy, a lively imagination, and considerable warmth of feel- ing. That late event, which he calls " the resurrection of the Greek nation," if it did not originally suggest the plan of his Work, has at least guided his pen in its execution. He thinks, that he has discovered a striking resemblance between the con- dition of the English under the Norman, and of the Greeks under the Turkish despotism, not only in the leading features of servi- tude, but also in the particular form assumed by the national spiri^ amidst the sufferings resulting from oppression, both in the moral instincts and superstitious notions to which it gives birth, and the demonstration of national hatred, wherever there exists the will without the power of effectual resistance. Hence, adopting the doctrine of Seneca, that res est sticra miser, he makes the history of the oppressed, their wrongs and sufferings, and their struggles to emancipate therriselves from the yoke, the favourite object of his attention. All other writers, he persuades himself, have beeri seduced from their duty by the dazzling splendour which always accompanies the conqueror ; and have neglected the most in- teresting and instructive part of their office, the history of the conquered, who necessarily form the greater, and eventually rise to be the most important portion of the nation. He has therefore sought to supply their deficiencies, and to lay before his readers every instance which he could discover of Norman tyranny, 6t Saxon retaliation.
We need not be told that hurnan nature is every where the same, and that man, in whatever clime he may suffer, whether in the isles of the Archipelago or those of the northern ocean, will seek to relieve himself and to wreak his vengeance on the oppres- sor. These are truths Which alt feel, and which the history o^
T 2
276 Thierry'»,Histori/.Q/the Conquest,
every country attests. But' we are inclined to believe that Mr. Thierry, in his wish to elucidate these principles, has occa- sionally suffered his judgment to be misled by his imagination, and has attributed the conduct of the people and their leaders to views and motives which never had existence, except in the mind of the writer. To seek to establish any particular hypo- thesis is as dangerous in history, as it is in natural philosophy. It has a tendency to warp the judgment ; it imparts a meretri- cious colouring to the facts, and it often leads to conclusions widely distant from the truth,
Mr. Thierry begins his history of the conquest of England in the eleventh century with an elaborate account of its condition at the most remote period. Who were its aboriginal inhabitants, he, indeed, knows not : but he can assure us that at some time or other they were driven to the mountains of the north and the west, and many of them across the sea to the neighbouring island of Erin, by an invasion of the Cambrians from Gaul ; that the Cambrians in their turn, but after the revolution of some cen- turies, yielded in like manner to the pressure of a colony of Loegrians from the same country ; and that these were followed by a host of Britons, who came from the provinces lying between the Seine and the Loire, and gladly exchanged their native seat for the more tempting tract of land which stretches from the Frith of Solway to that of Forth. All this is gravely narrated as legitimate history, and in its support is alleged the infallible authority of the Tryoeds ynys Prydain, and the other fictions of the Welsh bards.
Thence Mr, Thierry proceeds to the occupation and subsequent abandonment of the island by the Romans ; the arrival of Hen- gist and Horsa as " traders in war ;" the conquests and settlements of the several tribes of Saxons ; the establishment of the British exiles in America ; the devastation of Gaul by the Franks ; the solicitude of the popes to convert these barbarous nations for the extension of their temporal influence ; the gests of king Arthur, and the non-appearance of that prince after his death, notwith- standing the contrary predictions of the British bards. These subjects fill up the first book. The narrative is rapid, confused, and unsatisfactory ; and though the writer does not fully disclose his opinions on religion, we think that we see some reason to doubt whether he believes in any one of the forms of Christianity. The second book reaches from the first descent of the Danes in 787,.to the accession of Edward the Confessor about the middle of the eleventh century. Of this part it will be only necessary to observe, that Mr. Thierry allots to Alfred the Great but a small share of that praise which is bestowed on him by our national
Thietfry^s Itistory of the Conquest. ^f
historians. He represents that prince as despotic in his notions, and unjust in his decrees, joined with a contempt for the great, and neglect of the people, which completely alienated froili him the affections of his subjects. To this cause he attributes the - sudden subjugation of Wessex by the Danish king Gothrun, and the flight of Alfred from his pursuers to the isle of Ethelingay. It was, if we may believe Mr. Thierry, that the Saxons refused to obey the orders of the tyrant ; they had rather submit to the yoke of the invaders, than unite for their own protection under the banners of a prince whom they hated. It is, however, to be lamented that the French historian has hot pointed out the authority on which his narrative is founded. In the pages of Dr. Lingard we find the same event attributed, and apparently on good authority, to a very different cause, the unexpected approach of the Danish army to Chippenham, in the depth of winter, and before Alfred could have i^ in his power to collect a force, and oppose it to the invaders. '
There is reason to believe that, if Harold had not gone to Nor- mandy, the conquest of England would never have been achieved, perhaps never attempted. It was the oath of fealty which he swore, and the promise of aid which he was compelled to make to William, that gave a semblance of justice to the ambitious design of that prince, and induced numbers to join his standard against the perjured Harold. But what could induce the English , earl to put himself into the power of the Norman, the pri<^C€i,,- whom of all others he had the most reason to dread ? To this in-*t teresting question Mr. Thierry replies, on the authority of the " Chronique de Normandie," and the " Roman de Rou," that Harold, in defiance of the misgivings and entreaties of Edward, resolved to visit the Norman court, in order to obtain from Wil- liam the liberation of his two brothers, who were detained there , as hostages for his fidelity to his own sovereign ; that during his voyage he was shipwrecked on the French coast, imprisoned by the Count de Ponthieu, and ransomed by the Duke of Normandy, - who took the opportunity to extort from him both his oath and ,, his promise. To us this account savours of fiction; nor is its. credibility much increased by the nature of the authorities on which it depends. We are more inclined to believe those writers who say, not that Harold sailed to liberate his brothers, but that while he was on shipboard on a party of pleasure, he was drivpp by a stdrm on the coast of France, where he met with the impj9» ,,j sonment, and compulsion, which have been already mentioned., , * ;, Of Mr. Thierry's talents for historical composition, we shall. > subjoin as a specimen his narrative of the battle of Hasting. It should however be remembered that we quote from the transla-
278 Thierry's History of the Conquest.
tion, as being, though perhaps less favourable to the author, more torivenient to the generaUty of our readers : —
"At the moment when the trodps where abbut to advance, William, raising his voice, thus addressed them : —
'"Remember to fight well, and put all to death; for if we con- quer, we shall all be rich ; what I gain, you will gain ; if 1 conquer, you will conquer ; if I take the land, you will have it. Know, how- ever, that I ani not come here only to obtain my right ; but also to avenge our whole race for the felonies, perjuries, and treacheries of these English. They put to death the Danes, men and women, on St. Bride's night. They decimated the companions of my kindsmen Auvre,* and took his life. Come on, then ; and let us, with God's help, chastise them for all these misdeeds.'
" The army was soon within sight of the Saxori camp, to the north- Vest of Hastings. The priests and monks then detached themselves fronfi it, and ascended a neighbouring height, to pray, and witness the conflict.t A Norman named Taillefer spurred his horse forward in front, and began the song of the exploits of Charlemagne and Rol- land, famous throughout Gaul. As he sung, he played with his sword, throwing it up with force in the air, and receiving it again in his right hand. The Normans joined in chorus, or cried, ' God be our help ! God be our help ! 'J
" As soon as they came within bowshot, the archers and crossbow- men began to discharge their arrows ; but most of the shots were deadened by the high parapet of the Saxon redoubts. The infantry, armed with spears, and the cavalry then advanced to the entrances of the redoubts and endeavoured to force them. The Anglo-Saxons, all Oh foot around their standard planted in the ground, and forming be- hind their redoubts one compact and solid mass, received the assail- ants with heavy blows of their battle-axes, which, with a back-stroke, broke their spears, and clove their coats of mail.§ The Normans, unable either to penetrate the redoubts or to tear up the palisades, and fatigued with their unsuccessful attack, fell back upon the division commanded by William. The duke then commanded all his archers again to advance, and ordered them not to shoot point-blank, but to discharge their arrows upwards, so that they might descend over the rampart of the enemy's camp. Many of the English were wounded, chiefly in the face, in consequence of this manoeuvre ; Harold himself lost an eye by an arrow, but he nevertheless continued to command
* It was thus that the Normans wrote and pronounced the name of Alfred. Chronique de Normatulie, Recueil des Hist, tie la France, torn. XIII. p. 232. Wace, Roman de Rou.
f • pour orer.
Et pour la bataille esgarder. Roman de Rou.
J Dieu Aie ! Roman de Rou. Chron. de Normandie, p. 234. Hetirki Hunt- ingd. p. 368.
^ Ssevissimas secures. Cml. Pictav. p. 201.
Thierry's History of the Conquest. 379
and to fight. The close attack of the foot and horse recommenced, to the cry of ' Our Lady ! God be our help I God be our help !'* But the Normans were repulsed at one entrance of the Saxon camp, as far as a g^reat ravine covered with grass and brambles, in which, their horses stumbling, they fell pell-mell, and numbers of them perished. There was now a momentary panic in the army of the foreigners ; it was ru- moured that William was killed, and at this news they began to fly. William threw himself before the fugitives, and barred their passage, threatening them, and striking them with his lance ; t then uncover- ing his head, ' Here I am,' cried he ; ' look at me ; I am still alive, and with God's help I will conquer.'J
" The horsemen returned to the redoubts ; but' as before, they could neither force the entrance nor make a breach. The duke then bethought himself of a stratagem to draw the English out of their ppsi- tion and their ranks. He ordered a thousand horse to advance and immediately fly.§ At the sight of the feigned rout, the Saxons were thrown off their guard ; and all set off in pursuit, with their axes sus- pended from their necks. At a certain distance, a body of troops posted there for the purpose joined the fugitives, who then turned round ; and the English, surprised in the midst of their disorder, were assailed on all sides with spears and swords, which they could not ward off, both hands being occupied in wielding their heavy axes.jl When they had lost their ranks, the openings of the redoubts were forced, and horse and foot entered together ; but the combat was still >varmly maintained, pell-mell and hand to baud. William had his horse killed under him. Harold and his two brothers fell dead at (he foot of their standard, which was plucked from the ground, and the ■flag sent from Rome planted in its stead. The remains of the English army, without a chief and without a standard, prolonged the struggle until it was so dark that the combatants on each side pould recognise one another only by their language." %
Mr. Thierry proceeds to narrate with considerable prolixity the subsequent events of the conqueror's reign, the repeated in- surrections of the natives, and the severe revenge taken by the Normans : btit he refuses to William that praise which many writers have bestowed upon him for the composition of the roll, which has been denominated " the doomsday book." Ac- corcling to the French historian, it was forced upon him by
* Chroniqtie de Nortnandie. Math. Parisieitsis, p. 2, 3. Monastic, ^nglic.'tom, I. p. 311. Guil. Pictav.f. 20 \. _
f Verberaus aut minans liast^. Gitil. Piclav. p. 202.
X Vivo et vincam, opitulante Deo. Ibid. Chronique de Normandie, p. 234, 235.
§ Chroiiique de NormaHdie, p. 234, 235.
II Ibid.
f Ibid. Guil. /?»c<ar. p. 202, 203. Monastic. .4»glic. torn. I. p. 312. Math. VTeatmonast. p. 224. Eadmer. p. 6.
280 Thierry^s History of the Conquest.
the peculiar situation in which he was placed as the chief of a conquering army, and by the necessity under which he found himself, of establishing some kind of order in the chaos which his victories had made. Similar expedients have sug- gested themselves to other conquerors in similar circumstances ; and what is common to many, ought not to be considered as a proof of superior merit in one.* In this portion of Mr. Thierry's work we find little that is new, unless it be the extraordinaiy ex- pedient by which he seeks " to strengthen the patriotism of those Englishmen, whom past ages called villains, and to whom the present age vouchsafes the epithet of the middling and lower classes." These he advises to take an exact survey of the insult- ing privileges, which are denied to them, but granted to men of superior rank ; " and to have it in their power (should the question of antiquity of lineage — a question so dear to the privileged classes — come to be debated) proudly to maintain that priority of abode on the English soil belongs to plebeians, and that the nobles are new men, as their very names and the dates of their titles testify." We have no doubt that the plebeians will feel grateful to Mr. Thierry for this hint, and still more so, if he Avill come among us, and point out who are of Saxon and who of Nor- man descent ; for we are sure that without his aid no person in England can do it, and that it will still remain a problem, what individuals can justly claim priority of abode on the English soil ! He concludes his history of the reign of the conqueror with Uife following picture of the state of England at that period : —
" If, collecting in his own mind, all the facts detailed in the foregoing narration, the reader would form a just idea of England conquered by William of Normandy, he must figure to himself — not a mere change of political rule — not the triumph of one candidate over another candi- date— of the man of one party over the man of another party, but the intrusion of one people into the bosom of another people — the violent placing of one society over another society, which it came to destroy, and the scattered fragments of which it retained only as personal pro- perty, or (to use the words of an old act) as ' the clothing of the soil.'f He must not picture to himself — on the one hand, William, a king and a despot — on the other, subjects of William's, high and low, rich and poor, all inhabiting England, and consequently all English : he must imagine two nations, of one of which William is a member and the
* A curious manuscript of this description has been lately iHscovered in Paris It is written in verse in the Modern Greek, and contains a description of the differ- ent fees into which Greece was divided by tlie Latin crusaders. Mr. Bouchon has undertaken to publish it.
t Terrse vestitus, terra vestita — i. e. agri cum domibus, hominibus, et pecoribus. Vide Glossar, Catigii et Spelmanni.
I
Thierry's History of the Conquest. 281
chief — two nations which (if the term must be used) were both subject to William ; but as applied to which the word has quite different senses, meaning in the one case — subordinate, in the other — subjugated. He must consider that there are two countries — two soils — included in the same geographical circumference ; that of the Normans rich and free, — that of the Saxons poor and serving, vexed by rent and taillage ; — the former full of spacious mansions, and walled and moated castles, — the latter scattered over with huts of straw and ruined hovels : — that peojiled with the happy and the idle — with men of the army and of the court — with knights and nobles, — this, with men of pain and labour — with farmers and artizans ; — on the one, luxury and insolence, — on the other, misery and envy — not the envy of the poor at the sight of opu- lence they cannot reach, but the envy of the despoiled when in presence of the despoiler.
" And lastly — to complete the picture — these two lands are in some sort interwoven with each other ; — they meet at every point ; — and yet, they are more distinct, more completely separated, than if the ocean rolled between them. Each speaks a language foreign to the other, — the land of the rich using the Roman tongue of the Gaulish provinces beyond the Loire, while the old language of the country is heard at the fire-sides of the poor and enslaved."
Having concluded his narrative of the conquest, Mr. Thierry hastens to detail its consequences through the reigns of the children of William, and of their immediate successors. During the whole period he keeps his eye steadily fixed on the real or imaginary contests, which he discovers con- tinually existing between the two races. To the hatred which marshalled them against each other, he attributes every act of violence committed by Norman or Saxon, though with this difference, that in the first case it is an act of aggression, in i;he second an act of retaliation. But that which will most sur- prise the reader, is the important discovery which he has made respecting the conduct of Becket, the celebrated archbishop of Canterbury. Becket was of Saxon origin, the first Saxon who had been elevated to the archiepiscopal throne. This sufficed to give wings to the imagination of Mr. Thierry. Hitherto it had been supposed by Becket himself, by his contemporaries, and by posterity, that he fought and bled in the cause of the church : but this, it seems, was a mistake : the French historian has made him the champion of the vanquished ; he pronounces it a contest between the Norman tyrant and the oppressed Saxon ; and re- veres the archbishop as a martyr in the defence of his country- ' men, the original proprietors of the English soil. , To the history of Becket, Mr. Thierry has added another of Girald Barry, who was twice elected Bishop of St. David's, in op- position to the will of the Norman monarch, and who long con-
VOL. I. U
SS2 Thierry's History of the Cong»eSf.
tended against him in support of the independence of the Welsh church. But Barry aspired not to the crown of martyrdom. After a long process, judgment was given against him in the court of Rome ; and, though he maintained that the judgment was founded bn perjured testimony, he had the wisdom to desist from his pre- tensions, and to labour to establish his reputation as a scholar and writer, when he found that he would never be permitted to wield the crosier as metropolitan of Wales.
The history, properly so called, terminates with the execution of William, surnamed the Longbeard, who suffered for sedition and treason, at Tyburn, in the year 1196. That this man was of Norman origin is plain from his name of William Fitz-Osbert \ but it suited the historian's purpose to make him a Saxon, and he has described his conduct, and that of his associates, as the last attempt of the Saxons to free themselves from the tyranny of the Normans. If the reader have the leisure to follow Mr. Thierry step by step in his quotations on this subject, he will be amused to observe with what felicity, by the occasional introduction of the words Norman and Saxon, and by the creation of motives, of which his authorities knew nothing, he has been able to transform a po- pularquarrel respecting the unequal divisionof the taxes among the citizens of London, into a national contest between the two races. In his last chapter Mr. Thierry has comprised several short notices of different nations. To an account of the invasion of Ireland under Henry II., he has added a rapid narrative of the principal events which have since occurred in that country ; but we believe that most of our readers will be disposed to ques^ tion his accuracy, when they learn that the chief authority on which he relies is that of Sir Richard Musgrave in his history of the Irish Rebellion. A section is also devoted to the history of Wales, from the accession of the Tudors to that of his present majesty : and the French historian informs us, with undis- guised satisfaction, that the Welsh are not humbled by their subjection to England ; that they consider themselves as better than the proudest of the English nobility ; and that since the revolutions in America and France, the national spirit of WaleS is become "allied with the great ideas of natural and social liberty, which those revolutions have every where awakened." — To the Scots also he pays many compliments. They have indeed lost their religious and political enthusiasm, but then they have turned to the cultivation of literature those imaginative faculties which he consi- ders a proof of their Celtic origin, whether as Gauls or Britons. Scotland, if we may believe him, is the only country in Europe where knowledge is truly popular, and "where (mirabile dictu!) men of all classes like to learti for learning's sake, without any interested
Thierry^B tfistory of the Conquest ^%
tndfive, or desire of bettering their condition. They are indeed compelled to write in a language different from that of their habitual conversation, yet they have, if we compare their number, produced more distinguished authors than their English brethreri^ and in historical narrative, in the manner of relating facts, whethel" real or imaginary, they have attained a decided superiority, Strongly characteristic of their original descent !"
The work concludes with a hasty dissertation on the extinction of the Norman tongue, and the dissolution of the Norman society in England, From it we select the following passage for the information of our readers, who most certainly, had it not been for the pages of Mr, Thierry, would never have been acquainted with the lofty pretension of the London shopkeepers and the Yorkshire farmers.
" As there no longer exists any popular tradition relative to the division of the inhabitants of England into two hostile populations, and to the distinction of the two elements from which the present lan- guage is formed, no political passion is now connected with these forgotten circumstances. There are now neither Normans nor Saxons, but in history ; and as the latter do not make the more brilliant figure in its pages, the mass of English readers, not being conversant in national antiquities, love to deceive themselves respecting their origin, and to consider the sixty thousand men who accompanied William as the common ancestors of all who now bear the name of English. Thus, a London shopkeeper, or a Yorkshire farmer, will talk of his Norman ancestors, just as a Percy, a D'Arcy, a Bagot, or a Byron would do. Norman, Poitevin, or Gascon names, are no longer, as in the four- teenth century, exclusive marks of rank, power, and large property ; and it would be unreasonable to apply to the time present the old verses given as the motto to this work. One fact, however, is certain and easy to prove ; that, in an equal number of family names, taken on the one hand from the class of the nobles and those called English country squires and gentlemen-born, and on the other from that of the tradespeople, artizans, and peasantry, the names of French mould are to be found among the former in much the greater proportion. This is all that is now observable of the ancient separation of the two races ; and with this modification we may repeat the words of the old chronicler of Gloucester : —
*' ' The high personages of this land are descended from the Nor- mans, and the men of low condition from the Saxons.' "
•' the folk of Normandie Among us woneth yet, and shalleth ever more : Of Normans beth these hygh men that beth in this land, And the low men of Saxons."
With these extracts we shall conclude the present article. We
flfe4 Thierry's History of the Conquest.
understand that the work of Mr. Thierry is highly popular with a certain description of readers in France : nor are we surprised. What to an Englishman may prove trite or insignificant, ridicu- lous or unfounded, may often appear to a foreigner the result of deep research and extensive information. To the author, we are willing to allot the praise of industry and ingenuity : but at the same time we may be allowed to say, that his labours have been estimated above their real value, by the vanity or partiality of his countrymen ; that his industry has added little or nothing to our former stock of historical knowledge ; and that his ingenuity has been chiefly displayed in placing in a doubtful and delusive light some of the most important events recorded in our annals.
THE
BRITISH CRITIC,
JANUARY, 1826.
Art. I. ■'-'Origines ; or Remarks on the Origin of Several Empires, States, and Cities. By the Right Honourable Sir W. Drummond. 2 vols. 8vo.
OIR William Drummond is known to the world as an inge- nious oriental scholar, who formerly undertook to show that the Jewish history was a riddle ; and, that while Moses pretended to write concerning the twelve sons of Jacob, he was really composing a treatise upon the twelve signs of the zodiac. This sally was not well received. Sir William underwent the punishment which the scoffer deserves, and to which the para- dox-maker must submit : — he was laughed out of the field ; and we rejoice to see that if he now returns to the combat, it is with a marked improvement in his general demeanour, and a determination to excite as little opposition as possible. The .preface deprecates "prejudice and personal animosity," and assures us that "there is not a sentence in this work as far as he is aware, and as his intentions have led him, which can give the slightest offence to the strictest theologian^ A note in the ninth chapter repeats this declaration, and adds that " with- out adverting to changes which may have taken place with- in the few last years in his own opinion, he is certain that he has said nothing here in the spirit of scepticism." Whatever may be our opinion respecting the tendency of the work, its lan- guage we readily admit can give no offence to " strict theolo- gians," or even to sincere Christians. And, as some change may have taken place within the few last years in Sir Wil- liam's opinions, as he appears (vol. ii. p. 155) to incline to the belief that the Bible may be true, we will endeavour to
VOL. I. X
286 Sir W. Drummond's Origines.
confirm him in these amended sentiments, by removing a few of the stumbhng-blocks which still oppose his progress.
The origin of the oriental monarchies is so perplexed and difficult a subject, that a writer who professes to discuss it, must necessarily have recourse to every assistance which can help him forward on his way ; and Sir W. Drummond may therefore be excused for making choice of etymology, and allegory, as his two principal allies. Whether his knowledge of Coptic roots, and his insight into Babylonish astronomy are sufficient to carry him with credit to his goal, is a point upon which the reader will be enabled to decide in the course of the following pages.
On the first chapter of the first book, which contains some account of the origin and extent of Babylon, we shall only say at present, that we are disposed to believe with Sir John Marsham, that Babylon, considered as the metropolis of an empire, was inferior in antiquity to Niniveh ; and, that it should therefore be considered as having once been the metropolis of the Assyrian empire, rather than that of a distinct mo- narchy. Sir William's conjectures on the Stadium of Herodotus and others, who have written on the extent of Babylon, are curious and valuable.
Six chapters, beginning at page 8, and ending with 56, contain an account of the ancient kings, and civilization of Babylon, which evinces considerable ingenuity. In the first place, we are presented with the names of ten kings, accord-' ing to the Greek and Armenian texts of Eusebius, compared with that of Syncellus, who are said to have reigned before the deluge. These are said to have reigned a certain number of sars (aapoi) making in all 120. According to Berosus, we are told, one sar was equal to 3,600 years ; and that, therefore^ 120 sars, would be equal to 432,000 years. This value of the sar Sir William rejects, and proposes as an emendation, that the sar be considered as a period, which, says he, " we may reckon as months, weeks, or days." He next tells us what this account would come to on either supposition ; and he then rejects the whole. After this he proposes the period of 222 or 223 lunar months, which he adopts, on the authority of Suidas and PUny ; and, we are then told, that " we may safely infer that this was the Chaldaic period, which Suidas has so inaccurately indicated. Two hundred and twenty-three lunar synodical months, each containing nearly about 29 days and a half, amount to 18 solar years and 11 days. This cycle was probably employed for the purpose of calculating eclipses."
Sir W. Drammond's Origines, 287
From other passages, which it will be unnecessary to cite, Sir William states his opinion, that these numbers were in- tended to conceal certain astronomical truths ; that the period above mentioned was intended to give the general rule for calculating eclipses ; — that the names of the kings themselves are either names or titles of Chaldaic divinities — all of which was intended for the use of the learned : — that the historians who have recorded these allegorical kings, knew very well that Babylon did not exist before the flood, and that they never intended to affirm that it did.
Be all this as it may, our knowledge of science, as taught among the Babylonians, is too inconsiderable to enable us to come to any satisfactory conclusion on this head. We have no doubt, with Sir William, that sar is a term equivalent to lunation, or the Arabic word ^ ,'J, but, that these names were intended to teach
astronomy, we more than doubt. The astronomical portion of the Babylonish history, being an unsupported hypothesis, let us consider how far the author recovers his ground by his etymologi- cal discoveries. A specimen or two will suffice.
Sir William says, that he finds among the names of the antedilu- vian kings of Babylon, corruptions of the Chaldaic, Egyptian, Zend, and Pehlvi. "AXw/jos, Aloros, he says, is easily resolved into the Chaldaic "iiK-bx* al-uor, or a/-or, God of light; in one word, " the sun." This is, however, extremely doubtful ; these words occur very rarely, if ever, as Chaldaic. They are pure Hebrew; HninjT khSk would be in Chaldaic, the God of light. Of the last of these words we perhaps have a trace in the name of the idol Vj'O Nergal, which the Greeks seem to have connected with
the word TrvpaOeia,
The name of the second king is 'kXaaTrapo-i, Alasparos, accord- ing to the Armenian version Alaparos, which Sir William prefers. '* This," says he, " is likewise Chaldaic, niK-»)SK Aleph, or Alep- aor, leader, or conductor of light — another solar title." But here again, we must object: ff^K Aleph does not mean /earfer in the Chaldaic ; and it is questionable whether tik was ever used among the Babylonians for light.
A little farther on. Sir William commences another inquiry, in which we think he is still less fortunate. " There can be no doubt," says he, " that the voice of oriental tradition has at- tributed to Ham either the invention or the renovation of the worship of the host of heaven; and hence various authors both
. * In page 342, we have this phrase inverted, and again givea as Chaldaic for AraKus, the name of a Persian king.
x2
288 Sir. W. Drummond's Origines.
'Greek and Arabian, have confounded Ham with Zoroaster." We then have a citation from Didymus of Alexandria, in which it is said, that Zoroaster " Avas no other than Ham ;" and another from Abenephius, an Arabic historian, stating, that " Ham was the first who introduced the worship of idols and magical arts into the world, and that he was called Zoroaster, ('this author,' continues Sir William, 'writes the name y\xJ\.y^ Zoi'astir') the second Edris,"&c. ^" ^
It is much to be regretted, that SirWilliam Drummond has been so sparing in giving exact references to his authorities. Had he marked the passages on all occasions, his reader would not have had less confidence in his accuracy, and would have followed him with much greater pleasure than he now can. In the above ex- tracts it is said, " There can be no doubt that the voice of oriental tradition has attributed to Ham, either the inventioij or the reno- vation of the worship of the host of heaven," &c. We cannot help remarking, however, that there is considerable doubt, in our minds at least, as to the truth of this position : nor are the cita- tions of Sir William suSicient to remove it. The testimony of a Greek writer of Alexandria is not sufficient to prove, that the voice of the East is unanimous in this tradition: nor does the citation from Abenephius mend the matter in the least. For if this Arabian writes the word juLl.j^ Zorastir, {for Zoroaster,)
there can be no doubt whatsoever, that he has copied, not from an oriental, but from a western writer. In all the Arabic, Per- sian, or Syrian writers, which we have perused, this name is written, Zardusht, Zaradusht, Zartusht, or Zaradlmsht, &c., and not Zorastir* No reliance, therefore, can be placed on these authorities as to oriental tradition. With regard to the Rabbinical writers mentioned by Sir William, their styling Zoro- aster a Tsabean,f can by no means prove, that they believed
' * d^/i-t^/j, e^^Jl^j, c:..wij^-, c:^>iJbj'^, ^o>Jf, it is
remarkable enough that tlie translator of the Desatir has written this word Zirttisht, although it is said in the vocabulary accompanying that work.
That is, t.^,^*.? ' with the vowel a on the first letter, and u on the third. The
name of a prophet who was sent in the times of Gushtasp, and from whom are the books of the Zend and Pilzend.
f We cannot help remarking what we deem a needless departure from the usual orthography of tliis and some other words, as savouring a little of pedantry.
Surely Sabean ( ^[^^ after the Arabs and Greeks, is quite as good authority
Sir W. Drummond's Origines, 289
him to have been the same with Ham. But there is another, and an insuperable objection. Mirchond, with other Persian and Arabic writers, makes Zardusht contemporary with Gushtasp. How, then, could they have possibly supposed him to have been the same with Ham ? Asseman, indeed, cites an author who makes Zardusht the same with Baruch the scribe, (Biblioth. Orient, tom. iii. pt. 1 . p. 316,) which he thinks was a figment of the writer's own. Still, this is not identifying him with Ham. Mirchond, however, says, that he was a disciple of Jeremiah the prophet, which will account for the opinion of Asseman's author. He also says, that, at the instigation of the devil, he taught the practice of fire-worshipping.
It is curious enough that in the large Persian Dictionary, lately published by the king ofOude, the meaning of the word Zartusht is said to he Jlre-worshipper. sS ^.X^Tci-^vijl. ; Ju/*> ^X*itbC*^Ml.J^»;iS■Tc:,.wiJ.: So much for Sir William's oriental
tradition on this subject.
" It is, however, with more certainty," continues Sir William, *' that we can speak of those solar images, which were called aocn hamanim, or chamanim, and which are mentioned by Isaiah (xvii, 8.) Radak, in commenting on this word, observes that these images were invented by the posterity of Ham." But who is Radak P Would it not have been as well if Sir William had informed the unlearned reader, whom indeed he has con- descended to notice in his account of astronomy, that this is the rabbi David Kimchi ? But where has Kimchi said this ? Here again we are all in the dark One would suppose it was in the pas- sage above cited from Isaiah, but not a word about solar images, or their invention, occurs there ; nor is even the textual word a^cn noticed in Kimchi's commentary on that place.* In his Dictionary, under the word pn we have as follows : 'nnnj t^^no nnn y^v^^ orn ottni^cr pDjni c-ic^n iod a^i'y an o ncn* It is probable they were trees, as (when we %z.y^ groves. It is c:rtain, however, that the root is son (to be hot) of the (same) meaning with nr)n, as I have already stated. Again, under the word a«n we have u^ott^n naiy onix wj^bt "&> p ixnpji «]D1j pjni. The ] is additional, (i. e. in the word pn) and they have been so called, because those who made them were Avorshippers of the sun. But all this falls very far short of Sir William's assertion. The truth after all is, that Sir William has not consulted Kimchi, he has
as the Rabbinic O^X3V. In other places, passim, we have orientalists, for orien- tals ; vol. ii. p. 182, we have "operated any change," which is bad phraseology. Jn some places the orthography is erroneous ; as Capella for Capellus, ib. p. 42. * This is again asserted at p. 319, vol. ii.
290 Sir W. Druinmond's Origines,
only taken Selden's words, and made a trifling alteration in their import. Selden, in hrs " Syntagma de Diis Syris," after having shown very satisfactorily, that these a'JJ:n were idols dedicated to the sun, and cited the passage above mentioned from Isaiah, as well as another from Ezekiel, proceeds thus : " Ceterum de alio Twv Chamanim genere a Josia rege comminuto, necessario isst observandam comma undecimum capitis xxiii. secundi Regum. Verba sunt : jJbolevit denique (Josias) equos quos dederant reges Jehuda soli, in introitu temjjli JJomini, juxta taberna- culum Nethanmcelech Eunuclii qui (princeps) in suhurhiis, et quadrigas solis, combussit igne. Haec etiam," continues he, Chamanim forsan dicenda. R. R. R. Cimhi, Salomon Jarchi, et Levi Ben-Gerson eum locum explicant de equis et curru, quibus, dum orientem solem adorabant, a templi introitu usque ad taber- naculum Nathanmoelech solennem pompam ducebant,"* &c. Here, however, we have not one word about the invention of these images by the posterity of Ham. Our Rabbinic authorities, therefore, are of no use to us in this question.
It is very true rabbi Benjamin of Tudela has said something on a certain species of idolatry, as noticed by Sir William, but he has there said nothing on the subject of oriental tradition, — nothing as to the idols having been called chamanim, nor on their having been invented either by Ham or his descendants. Whe- ther Sir William's conclusions be right or wrong, therefore, no reliance can be placed on his proofs. f
* Syntagma, 11. cap. 8.
•\- Since writing the above, we have had the good fortune to discover the real author of the mistakes just noticed ; though we must still blame Sir William Drummond for republishing them ; and, we must add, for having contributed in some degree to their enormity. If the reader will turn to lib. 1. c. 11. p. 13. de origine litterarum et obeliscorum, in Kircher's work, entitled " Obeliscus Pamphilius," Romas, 1650, he will find the whole of the citation from Abenephius (Abennephius) and the name Zorastir ^vritten Sj^ ».o Sorastir (not j^Xjj! v^
Zorastir, as Sir William has given it.) In the next page (14) he will also find the passage from Didymus of Alexandria ; and, a little lower down, those from ** Radak," and Benjamin of Tudela, cited with the view of proving, that the images called Chamanim were so named from Ham; whence also it will appear, that neither the one nor the other has gone to any thing like the extent mentioned by Sir William, and that Kircher, with all his inaccuracy, did not understand them in that sense. If Sir William Drummond had taken the trouble to look into the ♦' Bibliotheca Hebrsea" of Wolfius, vol. iii. pp. 10,11, he would have seen, that considerable doubt exists, whether this work of Abennephius is not all a forgery of Kircher's, made for the I'ery purpose of supporting his own opinions. The orthography of the name given to Zoroaster certainly is not oriental, as already shown ; and it is extremely probable that it was written thus, for the first time, by
Kircher himself. But why has Sir William changed the ^^a for a fjo ? Was not
Kircher's Sorastir suflSciently near to the Greek for his purpose ? We have also to complain a little of the other citations, which we think have received some additional significations in the " Origines."
Sir W. Drummond's Origines, 291*
At the end of these etymological solutions, we are referred, generally, for further information to the works of MM. Anquetil du Perron, de Sacy, and Langles. But why are not the particular passages pointed out ? Why is the reader sent in quest of what he may never find after all, in this general and undefined manner ?
We now come to Chap. IX. which treats on the building of the tower of Babel, and here, we think. Sir William Drummond is no less fortunate than on many former occasions. After stating that the earth was repeopled after the deluge by the posterity of Shem, Ham, and Japhet, he proceeds, " But here occurs a ques- tion— when, and where, did this dispersion commence ? Chrono- logers and commentators have, indeed, answered this question. They assemble the whole descendants of Noach, (Noah,) about one hundred years after the flood, on the plain of Shinar ; repre- sent this family as employed in building the tower of Babel ; and suppose the general dispersion of mankind to have taken place immediately afterwards." " These writers," continues he, "have, no doubt, believed themselves to be supported by the authority of scripture ; and they have besides been able to allege the testi- mony of Josephus, and of some other ancient writers in their favour. It is, however, only from the sacred historian himself, that we can learn the truth upon this subject." And a little lower down, " Various considerations induce rae to believe, that the general dispersion of the descendants of Noach took place ages before the building of the tower of Babel ; and that the contrary opinion is not supported by the authority of the sacred historian." Sir William's first reason is this : " It cannot, I think, be asserted upon the authority of scripture, that the general dispersion of mankind took place after the building of the tower of Babel ; be- cause the sacred historian first states the dispersion of the families of Japhet, Ham, and Shem ; mentions the colonies which they planted, and the cities which they built ; and then, in a succeed- ing chapter, records the attempt to build the tower. If this undertaking had been the cause of the dispersion, it would have been natural for the historian to have mentioned it as such, before he introduced his account of the Noachic families, which is really the account of the peopling of the globe of the earth after the deluge." — p. 84.
This argument we think a most inconclusive one. Sir William should first have shown, that the order which he here contends for, as proper for the narrative, is always observed by the sacred his- torian ; for if it is not, it will avail him nothing to say, that it would have been natural for the historian to have pursued this or that order in his narrative. But the truth is, the order usually adopted by the sacred writer is that to which Sir William objects. In the first chapter of Genesis we have a general account of the
292 SirW. Dmmmond's Origines.
creation of man, male and female ; but it is not till we come to. the 21st verse of the second chapter that particulars are stated. Again, we have a general account of the creation of light (or of a luminary, for the Avord mx will bear that sense,) in the third verse of the first chapter ; but it is not before we come to the fifteenth verse that we have the particulars stated. Besides, this practice of first giving general, and aftenvards particular, statements, is not peculiar to the Bible, it is commonly found in all oriental history. . If the reader will turn to the first pages of the " History of the Dynasties," by Abulfaragius, he will find precisely the same order adopted. In the first place, we have an account of the division of mankind into different nations, and then we are brought back to the creation of Adam, just as we have the particulars in question in the Hebrew Bible.
This argument, therefore, of Sir William's we are disposed to believe is of no Aveight, and Ave are surprised that he should have laid any stress on it. There is another part of his statement which should be noticed hei'e. " If this undertaking," says he, " had been the cause of the dispersion," &c. Fi'om this, and other passages, it should seem, that this undertaking had nothing to do Avith the general dispersion of mankind over the different parts of the earth. We must confess, Ave think the sacred text sufficiently explicit on this subject to silence all objection. At verse four of the eleventh chapter, those Avho undertook the building of the toAver say, " Lest Ave be scattered abroad upon the face of the Avhole earth," The intention of the builders, therefore, seems to be, that they should remain stationary. In the sixth and seventh verses God expresses his disapprobation of the under- taking ; and at the eighth Ave are itiformed, that " The Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth ; and they left off to build the city." Again, at the end of the ninth verse, Ave are told the same thing. Sir William's interpretr- ation of the phrase ivhole earth Ave shall presently notice.
From the Avhole of the context, therefore, it appears that a confusion of language, and general dispersion of the builders, took place, in consequence of the attempt to build the tower. This may suffice for the present. ' _
Sir William's second objection is, that " Those Avho began the toAver had been journeying from the east ; and Ave may thence conclude (says he) that this could not have been the first migra- tion from the mountains of Ararat, Avhich, I shall have occasion to shoAv, are nearly due north of the plain of Shinar."
Suppose Ave allow this, Avhat then ? Are Ave to suppose that the descendants of Noah never left the mountains of Ararat until this toAver Avas built ? or that, during the hundred years since they left the ark, they could not have made any progress southAA^ard?
Sir W. Drummond's Origines. 293
If they had, which is reasonable enough to suppose, surely they might, in the next place, have journeyed eastward, and settled upon the plain of Shinar; in which the "mad attempt," as Sir William calls it, Avas first undertaken of building the tower. This will, perhaps, suffice in reply to the second reateon. We now come to the third.
" We are told," it is said, •' in the English version of the Bible/ that God confounded the language of all the earth, and scattered the builders of the tower upon the face of all the earth. Now the words pxn h2," (it is added,) " appear (o me to be wrongly translated ; and I would rather render them all the land, because I think it clear, that the sacred writer only meant the country in which the plain of Shinar was situated."
It is very true that pxn bo does generally mean in the later Hebrew writers, the whole land of Israel ^ and nothing more : but, in the earlier Hebrew writers, before the Holy Land had been appropriated to the Israelites, this is not the case. In the first verse of the Bible, for instance, we have \yxr\ the earth, opposed
to aiTOcrn the heavens, where it would be absurd to say that pxn
meant the land. The usage of the language, therefore, is in favour of the authorized version.
If we allow, in the next place, that the plain of Shinar only was meant, how can it be said, that either a confusion of language or a dispersion of people took place? There does not appear to have been any objection to these people inhabiting the whole plain of Shinar : the objection seems to have been, that they were unwilling to proceed beyond its boundaries. If, as Sir William thinks, this tower was intended as a beacon to these wandering families, and was undertaken principally for their use in this plain, why, it may be asked, was its progress put an end to ? There certainly could have been no impiety in the undertaking; for, in that case, it would have answered the very end which God him- self, upon that supposition, had in view, viz. of confining the builders to the plain of Shinar, and of keeping them there. But, if the families had not hitherto spread themselves into different regions, w*hich we believe was the case ; and if this building was intended to preclude the probability of any such dispersion, we can see the wisdom and goodness of the Almighty in putting an end to a design, which was clearly intended to thwart his purposes. And, as we have shown, that the phraseology employed requires this interpretation, we conclude that this Avas the case.
The next reason is grounded on a supposition, that, as the Hebrew language, as we now have it, was the language in use before the flood, the language of the tvhole earth cannot be said
fiO'l Sir W^ Drummond's Origines\
to have been confounded on the occasion in question. " How is it possible," it is said, " that after this period the language of the antediluvians could have been preserved?" Let us allow, for the isake of argument, that the Hebrew language was in use among the antediluvians, and consequently, that it was the language of the whole earth. Now, was it necessary, in order to bring about a confusion, such as is generally supposed to have taken place at the tower of Babel, that this language should have been entirely destroyed? Might not one family have retained the Hebrew, another have been made to speak the Chaldee, another the Arabic, another the Ethiopic, and so on, all of which are dialects of the Hebrew, yet so far removed from one another, as not to be understood by the different families when spoken ? Others might have been made to speak the Sanscrit, Coptic, Chinese, &c. out of which all the dialects of the world, as we now have them, might have arisen. Sir William thinks, that if the language of the whole earth had been confounded, the Hebrew could not have escaped : but if the language of the whole land, as he will have it, had been confounded, and this language had been the Hebrew, would it then have escaped ? For we have shown that no reliance can be placed on his argument, which goes to show, that the families had migrated prior to this period. If Sir William's argu-* ment proves any thing, therefore, it proves too much.
Sir William Drummond's last reason is this : " Had the mad attempt to build a tower, which should reach to heaven, been made within a century after the deluge, can it be imagined, that no allusion would have been made to that awful event?" He concludes, therefore, that as no mention is made of the flood, by the builders of the tower, or rather, as no mention of it is put into their mouths by the sacred historian, it must have taken place at a period much farther removed from this event, than mo- dern chronologers and commentators have supposed. " Had the terrible catastrophe of the deluge," says he, " been recent, had its history been familiar to those roving tribes, &c. would they not have reckoned it among the advantages of their tower, that it would preserve them from the danger of a second inunda- tion ?" Sir William here seems to have come to the conclusion, that what is not mentioned, could not possibly have come to pass ; a conclusion totally unwarranted by the premises. The principal motive for building the tower was indeed mentioned, but the his- torian might have conceived himself at liberty to omit the less important ones, leaving it to the understanding of his reader to supply them. We have many such chasms as these in holy >vrit. We are not informed of Eve having had any daughters, and yet we are told that Cain had a wife. Must we not hence infer
Sir W. Drummond's Origines, 295
that Eve had one child at least whose name has not been recorded ? Or must we, upon Sir William's principle, argue that SIS no daughter is mentioned, Eve could not have had, one ? Admitting our principle to be true, then, these wandering hordes may have had all the marks and horrors of the deluge befote them : and this tower may, among other things, have been in- tended to secure them from the ravages of a second and similar catastrophe.
Sir William also thinks, that as these tribes expressed a fear of being scattered, this implies their having been scattered at some earlier period. But this involves the principle, that no one can fear the occurrence of an event, which has not happened to him already, which is sufficiently absurd to be its own refutation. The result of the whole is, that Sir William Drummond has added nothing to our knowledge in thi? part of his work.
AVe shall now offer a few remarks on the tenth chapter. Nimrod, according to Sir William, " was known to the Chaldeans by the name of ^3, Bel Dominns, and, as the image of the sun ; and he was called ^^^, j Zohah, the just JLord, by his Persian
flatterers, while his enemies, by a slight alteration of the sound, converted this laudatory title into a bitter reproach. The chiefs of Iran, whom fortune had made his slaves, denominated th^ conqueror, j Jj Na-murd, immortal ; but the descendant^
of Shem, in the line of Eber, appear to have altered his name in derision from Namurd, the immortal, to Nimrod the rebel, &c.
Nimrod might indeed have been deified by the Babylonians, and worshipped by them under the name of Bel, which might also have been a title of the sun : but when we are told, that he was also styled -^ , j prceditus veritate, by his Persian flat- terers We must object. For, in the first place, we must be informed who these Persian flatterers were ; and, in the second, it mUst be proved, that this Arabic phrase is pure Persian. If Sir William means the Persian historians, nothing can be more cer- tain than that they do not flatter Nimrod : and, in the next place, it is also certain, that they never call him .-^ j but \^[s^,
Zoh&k. We strongly suspect, that this ~^ j has been coined
for the first time for the work before us. We are told, in the next place, that the chiefs of Iran, whom fortune had made his slaves, denominated the conqueror j4^[j Na-murd. But
who were these chiefs of Iran ? And who had heard of Iran in the times of Nimrod ? Again, suppose we allow the vassal chiefs of this imaginary Iran thus to have designated Nimrod, we now
296 Sir W. Drummond's Origines.
ask, is the title they have given him Persian, in the sense taken by Sir WilUara ? We hesitate not to answer, no. No such com- bination is found in that language to signify immortal : nor can
it. jl^U OJ" lj^[i is f°^^^ ^*^^ unmanly; a^'[j may be used for not dead, but never for one not subject to death. This, therefore, we must reject as a figment, whether we consider it in a historical or philological point of view.
We are next told, that the posterity of Shem (by a very happy coincidence,) called the same person Nimrod, rebel. Is not all this marvellous, that the Persians, who were then most probably in the loins of their forefathers, should call this man j^ ^ j in the first place, (which, however, no one has heard of till now,) and, in the second, that they should have called him j y« U
Na-mjird, which is not Persian : and, in the third, that the Shemites should have hit upon this last name, to which, however, they gave a different meaning ?
At page 107, we have an etymological account of the word Babel, which it may be worth while to consider. "According to the sacred historian," says Sir William Drummond, " Babel was so called, because Jehovah did there confound the language of the whole land (earth.) This passage," continues he, "re- quires explanation. The descendants of Abraham, in just and derisive reprehension of the folly of the builders of the tower, and in memory of the punishment which folloAved their temerity, called the city bna Babel, quasi bnVa Balbel, confusion. But it does not thence follow, that the name was so understood by the builders of the tower," &c. And a little lower down : " Now it can scarcely be supposed, that the Chaldeans understood this name to signify confusion," &c. After this we are told that, " The Babylonians interpreted Babel the gate of Bell. We know, that bab, in Syro-Chaldaic and in Persian and Arabic, signifies a
gate Bab-Bel, the gate of Bell, was, therefore, probably the
name which the idolatrous Cushites gave to their city ; and they bestowed upon their monarch the title, which they had previously reserved for their God."
That Babel was so called on account of the confusion of tongues which took place at the commencement of the building, there can be no doubt : how the builders understood this name, it is not very easy for us to determine : one thing is certain, that all parties have called this place, either by the original name Babel, or by one very nearly allied to it. Whether any party understood it as signifying the gate of Bel, is not very certain nor very important. We are inclined to believe, that no party ever
Sir W. Drummond's Origines. 297
understood the name in that sense : because we do not see what has become of one of the Beths (3) ; nor do we very clearly per- ceive ; why a city should be called a gate. But when we are told that Bab means a gate in the Persian, we must object till better informed.
There are two opinions respecting the origin of the empire of Babylon. One, that it was an independent state from the beginning. Another, that it grew out of the Assyrian, and first came into notice about the year 330, of the first Tem- ple. This question Sir William Drummond has not attempted to decide : nor is it our intention to do so. Our opinion inclines, however, in a great degree to that expressed in the " Chronicua Canon" of Sir John Marsham: viz. that Babylon did not exist as an empire much earlier than the period above mentioned. We find no mention made of Babylon in the scriptures before this period, and we believe no proof can be made out from any profane author, of its having existed as an empire at an earlier date.
In the next place, it appears extremely probable, that all the arts, sciences, and idolatry, known at Babylon, came originally from Egypt. The following passages to this effect are cited by Sir John Marsham. "Pausanias,"* says he, '• author minimd
VanUS, 'O ej/ Bd^vXwVl B^X09 UTTO dvSp09 'Air'/VTrTlOV Ji^XoV TOO Alfivfji
ovofia eaxev. Belus Bahylouius a Belo homitie ^gyptio Lihyes Jilio nomen hahet. Et Hestiaeus, apud Josephum, ilium advenam fuisse innuit, cum dicat, Twv iepewu rous tiaaii-'Oevra^ ta tov ^uvaXiov A109 lepivfiara Xafiovra^, tts 'S.evaup ttjv Ba^vXwvia^ iXOeiu. Sacerdotes qui effugerant, sacra Jovis Enyalii rapientes, in Senaar Baybyloniae agrum pervenisse. Zev9 'EvvaXcoi est firjXof''Apetos, Belus MavHus.^' This Apews or ByXoi is, as Sir John thinks, the fourth king of Assyria, according to Ctesias. And, according to Cedrenus, Mera Sivof Qodpos twv
' Aaavpit^v BafftXevet. tovtov 6 irarrfp avroii Za/f ApcacKuXeaev : tovtio riS "Apei TpWTrjv OTnXtjv avearrjaav 01 'Aaavpioi, nui ws Oe.ov irpoffKVvovai,
BdaX vvofiu^ovrcs. Post Ninum (Niuyam) Thurus imperavit Assyriis ; quern Zamis ejus pater Apea ( Arium) appellavit : llli jmmum statuam posuerunt Assy Hi, et ceu Deum adordrunt, Baalum nominantes. Paulo ant^ de eodem dixerat, Toviov 01
'Arravpioi fiaaX OeoVy rJToi ^rjX /neTOvofiu^oi/Tes, ical avaffTtiXwaavTes
ae^ouiau HuHc Assyrii Baalunij sive Belum Dewn appelldrunt, et statuam excitantes coluerunt." A little farther on, " Grseci qui- dem Belum e.v j^jgypto petunt, illumque Neptuni- et Libyes fi- lium faciunt. Neptunus nomen est iEgyptium ; illi Ne'00i;j/ KaXodai
*.ChroB.p.32, &c.
298 Sir W. Dmmmond's Origmes,
T^5 7^s Ta e;>^aTa, Ka2 vapopia Kai yjravovTa rrJ9 OaXarrrj?.* NcptJiyfl
appellant terrcs extrema, et promontoria, et qucB mare attin- gunt." And, according to Eusebius, Belus, Phoenix, and Cad- mus, all came from upper Egypt to Palestine. Again, we are told from Herodotus, that the Egyptians were the first who erected temples, came to the knowledge of the Gods, and held solemn assemblies ; — that, not long after, the Assyrians obtained the knowledge of the Gods from Egypt, — erected temples, in which they placed images, and that in elder times the Egyp- tians had no images in their temples." — p. 34.
From Sir William Drummond's own statement, it seems, that the Babylonians received all their civilization and arts, from cer- tain navigators who visited their shores, (vol. i. pp. 55-6.) Some nation, therefore, was in possession of these before the Babylonians. According to the scriptures, Egypt was consider- ably advanced in civilization, the arts, and, probably, in the sciences, as early as the times of Abraham; certainly in the times of Moses, long before we hear any thing of Babylon as a nation.
In these cases, therefore, history, both sacred and profane, concurs in giving the preference to Egypt.
If this be the case then, and if any reliance can be placed on the citations above given, JBel must have been an Egyptian, and not a Chaldean, word : and, it appears probable, that after it had been carried to Babylon, and Palestine, it took the form of JBaal, as more consonant to the languages of those people. Hence the a'Si73 Baalim, so often occurring in the scriptures, as well as the b2 Bel frequently met with in the prophecy of Isaiah. It might also be remarked, that it was the opinion of Scaliger long ago, that ba and "rio were radically different words.f
Now, if we may be allowed to recur to the Coptic for the signification of the word jSrjX, which, it has been said, designated a person, also termed "Apeio'} or Martial, we shall find, that I3r]\, l3o\, or /3w\, considered either as a verb or a noun, means liquefaction, dissolution, or the like. We would only ask, might not this have been the destructive power of the Egyptians, as Siva, or Maha Deva, is of the Hindoos ? It is curious enough, that the Eyptians adopted Jlmmon, and called their country Cham, or xVf^^' ^^^^^ ^^^ patriarch Ham, while the Babylonians were content with a more modern branch of the family, ascend- ing in no instance beyond their founder Nimrod.
* Plut. in Iside.
t lu Caaon. Isagog. lib. iii. p. 313. edit. 1606,
Sir W. Dnimmond's Origines, 299
Having detained our readers so long on the origin of Babylon, we may be allowed perhaps to pass over that of the Assyrian empire, which, (although we differ in some respects from Sir William,) we will do him the justice to say, is much better con- ducted, than the inquiry which we have been considering. One remark we must make on his solution of the 520 years of Hero- dotus, during which, it is said, the Assyrian empire lasted, he* fore the revolt of the Medes. We oIFer the remark, because Sir William seems to have come to his conclusion after con-j siderable inquiry. It is this. If he will turn to the " Chronicus Canon" of Sir John Marsham, (edit. Lond. 1672.) pp. 489-490, he will find, that this conclusion had been arrived at long ago. It must be added, that we entirely dissent from most of the etymologies offered in the course of this inquiry. — ^We now proceed to the origin of the Persian empire.
In this part of our inquiry (which commences at page 297 of the first volume) we find little ne\v, if we except Sir William'^ astronomical conjectures on the contents of the Dabistiin, a Persian work of great interest, and usually ascribed to one Moh- sin Fani. We shall, therefore, offer a few remarks, en passant, on some of the etymologies, and then come to the Dabistanw In page 319, we have the following remarks on Hyde's etymology of the word u.^wjlLiJ' Gushtasp, which he makes to signify /ac^M*
eguo, or, according to the ^ jUoL^ CJJLa> j, Farhangi Jahangln
somfiium, somniatio, and saltahundus et se erigens. " I have some objections," says Sir WiUiam, '• to make to this passage; When the learned author wrote {^^^.^liJiJ Gheslitasp, and trdni-.
slated /actus equo, he must have understood ci^J:^ ghesht to be
the contracted participle preterite from ^jJLS ghesthan, Jieri.
But ghesht is the third person singular of the preterite tense ; and ghesht asp would signify not /actus equo, but /actus est equus; if indeed even this derivation be strictly grammatical. The explanation given by tlie Arab writer appears very singular," &c.
Sir William's first objection to the word i,j>a/ being com'
sidered as a participle, instead of the third person preterite of the verb JxiiJ, gashtan, is weak and futile. Every one convert
sant with the Persian very well knows, that nothing is more com- mon than to meet with this preterite thus used ; as, for example, «»M)Jj Sij>. for iX^».^S^ ^>^j»' bought and soldt k^^ fpjr AJt^^
300 Sir W. Drummond's Origines,
said, &c. in many cases of which the verb xJwi* shudah, been, is
also omitted by an ellipsis. Hyde, therefore, is probably right, and Sir William, wrong.
In the next place, it is said, " The explanation given by the Arab writer appears very singular." But the author of the ^ -jUoL^rv. LL^Jcb J Farhangi Jahangln, which Hyde had de- signated by Ph. Gj., is not an Arab, but a Persian, writer.* It is true, he has used two Arabic words, b, . and >liL>-l, but Persian
writers often do this, without losing their claim to the title of Persian.
In Sir William's next emendations of Hyde, he is still more unfortunate ; and, if we are not much mistaken, he has thereby let out a secret, which he would most gladly recall. He says, " The three Persian words -idJ^S, JSjAi-, jjaJLj:.- are strangely writ- ten, and strangely explained. The first of these words," con- tinues he, ** was probably meant for ^jooL^, the preterite participle of the verb gehanidan, to attack, to assault." The truth, however, is, ^^X^ is the present participle, or agent, of the
verb ^to leap, as he may learn from any Persian grammar, f
It happens, unfortunately, to be an irregular form ; and, as it was not to be found in the Dictionary, Sir William was led to the conclusion, that it was " strangely written," and then proposed his still stranger emendation.
" The third word," continues he, "as it is written here, signifies a mattock, or spade ; but this must be an error of the press." Certainly not. It is the present participle of the verb ^^liS to do,
which, it is impossible any one could ever have read through the Persian grammar, without knowing. But this word, like the pre- ceding one, is irregularly formed, and therefore it put Sir William out. If, however, he had turned to Richardson's Dictionary, he would have found kunandah, a maker, a factor, agent, doer. In this case, therefore, he is less excusable than in the former.
" Thus," adds he, " the only one of these three words, which bears any resemblance to the translation, is jsijkiv kkizeh, which is the participle preterite of khizan, to leap." Most unhappy ' The Persian language supplies no such verb as khizan, to leap.
* See the Rellgio Vet. Pers. pp. 87. 425. Edit. 1700.
t Eighth edit, of Sir William Jones's Pers. Gram. p. 84. Lumsden, vol. i. p. 66.
Sir W. Drummond's Origines. 301
jjjj Jki- khizidan, to rise, leap, &c. for which ^Lls- khastan,
meaning the same thing, is usually substituted, is the verb from which this Avord has been derived. Nor is the word a participle preterite, but is derived from the aorist of ^^SJjx^y ^j^' j^^* ^® JciU: %amdnah is from ^^U} zanidn, by the addition of the
letter ^.
Sir William has made several other mistakes, which we have no room to notice. " It is surprising," he says, " that Hyde, who was so well skilled both in Persian and in Arabic, should have ad- mitted such glaring errors as these, which .... must be attributed to negligence, and not to ignorance." Could we here say of Sir WilUam what he has said of Hyde, we should be glad : but we cannot. These remarks force us to the conclusion, that Sir William Drummond has never yet studied the grammar of the Persian language. We would merely admonish him, that the Dictionary will not suffice on all occasions : and that, if he wishes to advance our knowledge by etymological inquiries, it would be well for him, first to make himself thoroughly acquainted with the languages he may want, and then to proceed to his discussions.
Passing over zerdhurst for zardusht, &c. we come to the Dabistan and its author in p. 347, where we are told, that the author's real name was Mahomet Mohsin, though he received the more general appellation of Phani : and, that he flourished in the latter part of the seventeenth century. What Mr. Gladwin may have said of the real name of this author, and of the period in which he lived, we know not, as his translation of the first part of him never came to our hands. Of this we are certain, that there is considerable doubt on the subject of his real name, no less than of the precise period in which he lived. Sir William Ouse- ley* has seen a manuscript in which a different name is given. Nor is there the least probability from the text of the Dabistan, which now lies before us, that Mohsin Fani was his real name. Whether Mahomet formed any part of his name, it is also im- possible to say.
Again, in p, 351 we are told, that " There can be little doubt indeed, from the internal evidence which his work affords, that if he were a Mussulman by profession, he was a Tsabean by prin- ciple." And a little above: " This writer wa,s a Siiphi^ And, in the next page : " Mohsin, as Mr. Gladwin informs us, was the disciple of the celebrated Dara Shikob, (Shikoh, surely,) who was hated by the Mussulmans for his infidelity, and loved and respected
• Travels in Persia, yol. iii. p. 564. VOL. I. Y
302 Sir W. Drummond's Origines,
by the Guebres for his piety." And a little lower down, we are led to infer, that he was a sectary of the prohibited religion of Zerdhurst (Zardusht.) What Mr. Gladwin may have said on this subject, we have already said we know not ; but, be that what it may, from a very careful perusal of the Dabistan, we are prepared to affirm, that no internal evidence can be adduced to prove, that the author was a Tsabean, or a follower of Zardusht. That he was a Sufi is apparent in almost every page of his work ; but, that a Sufi and a Tsabean, (as Sir William writes that word,) or a follower of Zardusht, may mean a follower of the same religion, we deny. Nor is a Sufi the same with a Guebre, either in Persia or out of it. It is probable there are opinions common to both : nor is it improbable, that many of the mystics of this country hold opinions similar to theirs ; but this will not be sufficient to prove, that either the one or the other are followers of Zardusht. We believe, therefore, that the author of the Dabistan was a Mohammedan mystic or Sii^, and nothing else. How he obtained access to the Desatir and other books of the Guebres, signifies but little to our purpose.
A little farther on (p. 353) it is said, *' The sect, of which he was a member, and which he tells us was anciently called Iranian, Yezdian, Yezdanian .... adored the host of heaven, &c." Are we here to understand Sir William to say, that he tells us of his being a member of this sect ? If this is meant, nothing can be more distant from the truth. The words of the author of the Dabistan are these: U^bu. ^J^^ |_^, tub'iacl Jj.} j
]^ Lio) ^ Jolwai jc^jt^ tiJulysi- ^ (J^.f^ji) hci^} ^ (J^'J^- j*^ iiJb*^ ^;Uilt}j, ^JJ^ i]- "In explanation of the creeds both theo- retic and practical of the Sayasian among the Parsees, whom they also call Izdian, They are a people whom they also call Izdian, Yezdanian, &c." Nor does one word occur in which it is said, that the author himself was of this sect, either in this or in any other part of the whole work. This is a mere inference of Sir William's, drawn from premises which will by no means bear it.
After detailing some of the periods given by the Yezda- nians, (p. 355,) Sir William very properly concludes : " It would be idle to waste more time in speaking of the chronological dreams of the Yezdanians. Their object was apparently to im- press their followers with the idea, that no date can be assigned to the existence of the world, or to the origin of the human race," &c. After this, however, Sir William does condescend to waste his time on these idle speculations : for, at p. 357, he says, " Now, perhaps, wjien all the clouds of mystery are evaporated,
Sir W. Drummond's Origines. 3(J8
it will be found that the Yezdanians meant to assign a revolution of the planet Saturn, which they estimated in round numbers at thirty years, to each of these twenty reigns," and so on. This, Sir William thinks, is to dispel the clouds of mystery: and so he proceeds to tell us of revolutions, equinoctial colures, signs of the zodiac, real zodiacs, &c., of which, it is extremely probable, the ancient Persians never so much as dreamt ; or if they did, that the author of the Dabistan had it not in his power to say so.
We must now take our leave of Sir William Drummond's first volume, ex})ressing our regret, that we have met with so much to combat, and so little to approve. We must not, however, be considered as disapproving of all, of which no notice has been taken : nor, on the other hand, as approving of all that has been passed over. Among much objectionable matter, there is also much calculated to show that the author has paid considerable attention to his subject. The geographical and chronological parts of the work are by far the best, and well worthy the atten- tion of the antiquary and the geographer.
We now proceed to the second volume, which, as already stated, treats on the origin, &c. of Egypt : and here, as before, we must be excused if we dissent, in many particulars, from the statements of Sir William Drummond. On the first chapter, which contains an " Inquiry whether the Delta has been a Gift of the Nile," we shall offer no remark, as we have no doubt of the justness of his conclusion, viz. that it is not. On the second, however, we shall dwell a little, because we think that some of the etymologies, &c. there proposed deserve notice.
In the beginning of the second chapter it is said : " The most ancient names of Egypt were o^nvo 3fitsri7n, "nva Matsor, and cm pNn, haarets Cham, the land of Cham." To these facts we have no objection, but to the phrase on pttn haarets Cham, we hive ; because it is contrary to the Hebrew idiom: which requires, that of two nouns in construction, the latter only should take the article. In this case, the latter is used as a proper name, and therefore the article would be superfluous. It should be written an pK, as 1^33 pi«» the land of Canaan, py ynx, the land of Uz, Sfc. We remark this merely to show, that Sir William is not remarkable for his accuracy in lingual learning.
" It seems, however, by no means improbable," says Sir William, at p. 43, "that many of the immediate descendants of Noach might have received denominations from the countries in which they settled, and that it often even happened that indivi- duals received appellations from countries where they established ' themselves, than that the countries were named after the indivi- duals," &c. A little lower down (p. 44) " the second son of Cham,
y2
304 Sir W. Drummond's Origines.
might have been called Mitsrim, after the country which was so named, perhaps by himself; but Mitsrim was as much the parti- cular appellation by which the Patriarch was known, as it was the general name which the Hebrews, at least, gave to Egypt." We are then told, that m^'n Matsor^ means a fortress ; and again, that the Hebrew word cdh, like the Egyptian chmom, means calidus, ^usciis, niger, 8)C. and, that because Egypt was naturally difficult of access, it was called Matsor and Mitsrim ; and because its soil was black, &c. it was called the land of Cham.
By this process of reasoning, therefore, we must go back to the sixth chapter of Genesis (v, 10.) and there read for Ham, not the original name of the Patriarch, but the name of Egypt ; and we must then come to the conclusion, that until Ham visited Egj^'pt, and gave it a name, he was himself nameless, and all for the pur- pose of making way for the etymology of Samuel Bochart and Sir William Drummond. Mizraim (Gen. x. 6.) must share the same fate ; and it will soon become doubtful Avhether Phut, Canaan Meshech, Tubal, Madai, Javan, S)C. had any names, as indivi- duals, before the colonies bearing their names had been planted !
But suppose, after all, that an^o Mitsrim (as Sir William will have it, because he dislikes the vicious punctuation of the Masorets) should not be the plural of -ii^fo Matsor, which is most probably the case, what becomes of this derivation ? The fact is,
nii*» signifying a fortress, will make in the plural number oniJfta Metsorim, and not an!!i,'o Mitsrim. Either Sir William's pro- nunciation of the word, therefore, is erroneous, or his etymology is. For w^hether we follow the Masorets or not, it will be difficult to say why the o in this word is to be rejected, In Eichorn's edition of the Lexicon of Simonis, it is said, and we think with
truth, " Est (niii'Q Matsor) Nomen Paranomasticum Aegypti."
But what possible necessity can there be for depriving the Patriarchs of their names, in order to make way for doubtful ety- mologies ? Why may we not suppose, that names were first given to the Patriarchs, either with reference to something which took place at the time of their birth, or prophetically, with reference to something which should take place afterwards ? We have, in one instance, the name of Noah given with reference to a future event ;* and in another, allusion is made to the name of Japheth, apparently for the same purpose. f We must be allowed, there- fore, still to hold, that this place took its name from the person, not vice versa, as Sir Wilham Avill have it : and, that if Egypt
•Gen.v.29. t lb. is. 27.
Sir W. Drummond's Origines. 305
was so strongly fortified by nature, as Diodorus has shown, it might have been called -^ivn Matsor, for that reason, but not ca'iyo Mitsrim, or Mizraim.
The next question discussed is, on the etymology of the word Egypt (p. 48.) "The etymology," it is said, "of the word Egypt, has occupied the attention and puzzled the ingenuity of many learned writers," &c. The word Af/v7no^, as derived from a7a for 7ata terra, and '•^vTnoi, or rather kotttos, meaning the land of Kopt, is rejected as being untenable, to which we are not disposed to object, although we may to many particulars adduced in proof: but to the etymology proposed by Sir William, we must object wholly, for reasons which will presently be adduced.
"./Egpytus," it is said, (p. 52,) "was a name which the Greeks gave first to the Nile, and aftenvards to the country through which it flows. Homer never gives another denomination to the Nile than At7i;;rTos; and Hesychius distinctly says that this was the name of the river, and that the country was only so called in later times. The Greeks probably corrupted one of the Egyptian names of the Nile into A.i!<^virTo<i, and then appUed it to the country." " So Sethosis," continues he, "may have assumed the original name as his own, and thus have also been called AifVTnot by the Greeks."
Sir William in the next place dispxites Avith Jablonski, on his Coptic interpretation of the word kj'v0j kneph, and kvov^is knouphis, as found in certain Greek authors, and said by them to mean A'^aObs Sai'fiwu, the good genius. Jablon.ski had truly stated, that the Coptic Avords I.^XTOTf^I, Ich nouphi, mean the good demon, exactly corresponding to the interpretation as given by the Greeks : this he establishes beyond the probability of doubt, from words now occurring in the Coptic scriptures.* Sir William, however, finds a passage in Cicero, in which it is said, that the Egyptian Vulcan, or Ptah, is thought by the Egyptians to be a keeper or guardian : " quem custodem esse volunt." And hence he infers that custos must have been a translation of the word Kvrj(^ or Kvov(f)ii, all hough Cicero mentions this word, not as a translation, and in connection with the Avord Ptah. The next step is, to find the Coptic for demon custos, Avhich Sir William thinks must have been I^-ftC|I ich-nphi, the verb CJI phi^ signifying custodire, Avhich being prefixed by " «, the nominal sign,\ becomes a noun signifying custos."
From the passage in Cicero one Avould scarcely have supposed that the name of the Egyptian deity Avould have been sought ;
• Panlh. jEgypt, lib. 1. c. iv. t But what is a nominal Bigr. ?
306 Sir W. DmmmoncPs Origines.
much less when we know, that Cicero had not the word before him on which Sir William was giving his opinion. But this is not all, Sir William next supposes that Ptah and Kneph were not the same ; and then, that, strictly speaking, they were not the same deity. Last of all, he argues as if they were the same, and he then tells us, that I;^-ItCjl is the same with ciistos demon, i. e. is the same with the Ptah of Cicero ; i. e. is the same with the KV7j(ji or Kvov(j)i^ of the Greeks, and that it means the hill.
In the next place we are informed, *' that a vulture was one of the principal symbols of ikh Ptah, (p. 56,) and that a vulture Avas named nosher in Egyptian. " They," continues he, (i. e. the Greeks,) Avould put this into Greek gups, or aigupios." (Does the reader now begin to see land ?) " The Greek mariners would soon confound the names of the genius of the river and of the symbol of her God." — "Thus the ikh Ptah, daemon Ptah, of the Egyptians, may have been corrupted into Aigtqnos^ Gups-Pta, perhaps Aigups-Ptas, and finally vf\\hAiguptos" — A more happy illustration of Porson's oirep, TjTrep, BioTrep, napkin, pipkin, &c. ending with cucumber, we certainly have never seen. How to find words sufficiently laudatory of the patience and ingenuity of Sir WiUiam we know not ; but, what must be said of his judgment? One word or two on his philology. Is ItCJI any where to be found signifying custos? We beheve not. Sir William, therefore, doubting as he does of the antiquity of the Coptic language, makes no scruple in adopting a phrase, which is neither Coptic nor Egyptian, (as far as Ave know,) and with this new weapon he sets aside at once every opinion on the etymology of the word Egypt, which had been proposed before him ! not to mention the circuitous route which he has taken.
But why did not Sir William try his hand on the names of this deity, as given by M. Champollion,* viz. hS. (rtOTTe), N^b ou N4v, dieu ; le «:i/j;0 de Grecs, and HcvS. (xtO'VXe), Noub ou JVouv, dieu; nom transcrit par les Grecs sous la forme de Xvovfii9 et Kvov(f)-i9 : copte, HotS., nOTfCI, &c. because, however plausible the etymology of Jablonski might be, still it is possible he might have failed in selecting the proper word ? This omission we thing a defect in Sir William's etymological inquiry ; though we very much doubt, whether he would have extracted any thing satisfactory from it.
Suppose w^e now dismiss these etymologies and tiy whether Ave can find a shorter way to a more plausible etymology, at least, of the Avord Egypt. It appears, from the volume before us, that an
• Pr^cU du Syst^me Hi6roglyphique, Paris, 1824, p. '4.
Sir W. Drummond's Origines. 307*
ancient Egyptian king, named Sethosis, also took the name of Aiguptos. Now, whether this be a Greek word, as Sir Wilham Drummond thinks, or both Greek and Egyptian, as M. Cham- pollion thinks, it will signify nothing to us : nor will it be of any importance whether we know its philological derivation or not. Both the river Nile and the whole land of Egypt may have received its name from this king, just as we find towns and villages, in this and other countries, receiving their names from eminent individuals. This is sufficient for us at present.
In the next article, the word "W is shown to signify other rivers beside the Nile, which, there can be no doubt, is true ; though we are still disposed to believe, that the word is originally Egyp- tian. The anvrs 'jhj nahal Mitsraim is also shown to be not the Nile, but the Rhinocolura, (or Rhinocorura,) of the truth of which we have no doubt ; although we must be allowed to say, that the proof of this has been given long before Sir William Drummond was born.* We may now be excused if we leave the etymologies, and pass on to the chapters (ix. &c.) on hieroglyphics.
Here it is, Ave think, that Sir William has written well. He has indeed followed the steps of M. ChampoUion ; although he occasionally differs from him in particulars Both profess to follow the system described by Clement of Alexandria, while they differ in interpreting his meaning. Again, Sir William sometimes fails in finding the Coptic words apparently required by the rules of M. ChampoUion, while it must be evident enough to Jiim, that we have but a very limited knowledge of the Coptic. This, there- fore, is rather an imaginary than a real objection. If M. Cham- poUion has done all, or nearly all, that his materials will admit of, we need not hesitate, because his materials are less copious than we could wish. The difference, however, between Sir William Drummond and M. ChampoUion is but little, as it respects essentials ; and Sir William himself, when speaking of his own tables, says, " In a few instances I have ventured to differ from M. ChampoUion." f And again, " I have placed two or three hieroglyphs, which M. ChampoUion supposed to answer to the Chaldean samech, on the same lines with the tau and- the teth." The conclusion is, " If then, upon the inspection of this table, the reader should think the resemblance between certain Egyptian characters, and the ancient letters of some Asiatic, and even of some European, nations, to be so striking as to make it altogether improbable that it could have resulted from accident, he will perhaps be disposed to examine with me, whether all these
^Phaleg. lib. 1. cap. xvi. . t Ibid. p. 302.
308" Sir W. Dmmmond's Origines.
characters had not a common origin." And a little farther on, after stating the several opinions as to the invention of letters, it is said: "Since, however, we find the Phcenician and Chaldaic letters frequently corresponding in form to one set of Egyptian characters ; may Ave not thence conclude, that the Phoenicians and Chaldeans borrowed their alphabets from the Egyptians, in copying each of their letters from a hieroglyph, and in choosing the particular homophon, of which the figure was most suitable to their purposes ?" " To this question," it is said, " I am in- clined to answer in the negative." (p. 308.) Again, p. 339, " I am disposed to think, that the original characters employed by the Tsabaists, or rather by their priests, were hieroglyphs, some of which were symbolic only, while others were both symbolic and phonetic." And, page 341, " The first phonetic hieroglyhs, employed to indicate elemental sounds, were probably mimetic pictwes of objects, of which the 7iame in speaking began with the sound that the graphic painter or sculptor wished to ex- press." " Some of the letters of the Phcenicians and Chaldeans may, I think, be traced to the hierogylphs whence they were first derived. Even in the demotic characters of the Egyptians, a few can be referred to the original hieroglyphs." In the opinion of M. Champollion, we must look to Egypt for the origin of alphabetical writing : according to Sir William Drummond, we must look to the priests of the Tsabeans, who may, or may not, have existed before the deluge. We are veiy much disposed to prefer Sir William's opinion ; because, we believe, that this natural sort of hieroglyph was more likely to have been the first invention, than that mystical and enigmatical one which seems to have been ex- clusively cultivated by the Egyptian priests : nor do we think an extensive knowledge of the sciences necessary at all to the inven- tion, though it may have been to the cultivation of these hiero- glyphs, as afterwards used by the priests of Egypt.
But why need Ave ascribe the invention to the Tsabaists (or Avorshippers of the heavenly hosts) ? If the invention required no vast progress in science, and involved no particular forms of idols, heavenly bodies, or the like, Avhy may not the orthodox believers have been the first inventors ?
We find no forms, either in the plates of M. Champollion or of Sir William, Avhich make it absolutely necessary Ave should recur to the rites of idolatry for these hieroglyphs ; and surely the forms of nature Avere as open to the one party as the other. We may not have it in our poAver, hoAvever, to discover Avith Avhom the invention began. Be it so : still, it may be useful to know that, so far, either party may have made the important discovery.
We are rather surprised that neither M. Champollion nor Sir
Corippi Johannis, 30R
William Drummbnd have adverted more particularly to the hiero- glyphics of the Chinese. For it is certain, that this system is still discoverable in their characters : but whether these can now be assimilated to any of our alphabets is doubtful, and to this, perhaps, the silence of both gentlemen may be attributed.
Chapters IV., V., VI., VII., VIII., XII., and XIII., of the second volume are curious and interesting, yet we doubt Avhether the reader will be able to follow the writer to the extent of his conclusions. In chapter XII. we have a host of etymologies, which we hesitate not to class among many of those already considered, and to pronounce the very worst part of the work before us. Upon the whole we are not disposed to censure Sir William Drummond for the spirit in which he has ex- ecuted his task. His historical knowledge is extensive ; he is always acute and ingenious. His philological speculations are unsubstantial and inaccurate, and might, under certain circum- stances, impair the reader's respect for the sacred volume. But such circumstances do not exist in Sir William's work, and we trust that the answer now given to his theories respecting Babel and Egypt will show, that there is nothing very formidable in those modern objections to the Bible, which conceal their nakedness beneath the flowing robes of oriental philology, and adorn their phylacteries with astronomical emblems, and Tsabeati hiero- glyphs.
Art. II. — Ftavii Crcsconii Corippi Johannidos sen de bellis Lihycis lihri vii. editi ex codice 3Iediolanensi musei Tri- vultii, opera et studio Petri Mazzucchelli, Collegii Ambro' siani Doctoris. Mediolani, anno MDCCCXX.
If the reader have formed his taste on the classic* models of ancient literature, he will perhaps turn with disgust and con- tempt from the announcement of a poem composed as late as the sixth century of the Christian era. What motive, he will ask, could have induced the learned prefect of the Ambrosian library to trouble himself and the public with the work of an obscure and barbarous Avriter? But the answer is ready. Even the authors of the iron age are not without their respective merits ; and, though in the poem of Corippus may be found passages likely to offend a correct taste, the defect is amply redeemed by a multitude of other passages, which will be read Avith pleasure, perhaps with admiration. There was, however, an additional and still more powerful reason. The Johannis is a history as
310 Corippi Johannis. •
well as a poem. It fills up an important chasm in the annals of the eastern empire : it details the operations of a fierce and eventful war, the particulars of which it will be vain to seek in the Avorks of any other writer.
The name of Corippus is not new to the learned. His four books in praise of the emperor Justin II., with a fragment of another panegyric on the same prince, have been repeatedly published, and have obtained for him a distinguished place among the writers of the last age of Roman literature. It is indeed true that Baillet, a bold and caustic critic, has upbraided him with unprincipled and venal flattery, as a man, and Avith harsh versification, vicious prosody, and barbarous language, as a poet.* But Baillet frequently assumed a right, which seems to have descended as an inheritance to some reviewers of the pre- sent day, that of deciding on the merit or demerit of works, without taking the trouble to peruse them. Other writers have done justice to the character of Corippus. The honest and pains-taking Barthius describes his poems as the last attempts of Roman eloquence, and superior to any thing produced by the other writers of the sixth century; and the opinion of Barthius is confirmed by the consentient testimony of two very competent judges, Faccioiati and Cellarius.f
From the other Avorks of Corippus, it was known that he had written on the subject of the African war : —
" Quid Libycas gentes, quid Syrtica praelia dicam Jam libris completa meis ?"
Fragm. carm. in laudem Justini.
■ And there is evidence that two manuscript copies of this poem formerly existed, one in the library of the monastery of Monte Casino, the other in that collected at Buda by the munificence of Matthias Corvinus, king of Hungary. The first remained in the monastery from the eleventh to the sixteenth century ; the other was seen at Buda by Cuspinianus about the year 1512. But Monte Casino was repeatedly despoiled of the most valuable of its manuscripts, and the books in the library at Buda were destroyed or dispersed at the capture of that capital by Solomon II., in the year 1526. Hence, it had long been supposed, that the poem of Corippus was irrecoverably lost : but a third copy has been recently found by the diligence of Mazzucchelli in the
♦ Jugemens dcs savans sur les principaux ouvrages des autcurs. Tom. iii. p. 302.
f See Barthius in Adversariis, 1. viii. col. 392. 1, ix. 436. Faccioiati in Lexico totius Latinitatis, torn. i. 619. Cellarius in Froleg. p. 47.
Corippi Johdnms. 311
Trivultian library at Milan. The eighth and last book, indeed, is wanting, and almost every line is disfigured by the blunders of transcribers. These, however, have been in a great measure cor- rected by the industry and ingenuity of the editor, and the seven books of the Libyan war have been published, both in folio and quarto, to suit the convenience of those who possess the different editions of the other works of the same author.
Of the personal history of Corippus, we know nothing more than that he was a native of Africa, and contemporary with the facts which he relates. He had borne his share of the miseries, which the incursions of t^e Moors had inflicted on his country ; and he had witnessed its liberation by the good conduct, or good fortune, of John the Patrician. To perpetuate the fame of the hero, he wrote a narrative of his achievements, to which he gave the title of the Johannis, seu de bellis Libycis. The poem opens with the appointment of John to the command in Africa, and the voyage of the fleet from Constantinople to Carthage. There, in the council, an aged officer relates to the new governor, the history of the province from the extinction of the kingdom of the Vandals to his arrival. Then follow the three expeditions of the Patrician, against the Barbarians. In the first he obtained a splendid victory : the second was signalized by as disastrous a defeat ; but the third terminated in the liber- ation of the province, and the subjugation of the Moors. Such is the plan of the poem : of its execution, when we consider the contemporaries of Corippus, we may speak in terms of high com- mendation. He describes with fidelity and spirit ; his compari- sons are lively and apposite; and the felicity with which he often imitates, proves the assiduity with which he had studied, the versification of Virgil. At the same time we must own that oc- casionally we meet Avith words and idioms,which, because they were not employed by the writers of the Augustan age, we are accus- tomed to consider as barbarous ; and that in several other instances, the language is harsh, inelegant, or obscure. But the first would not be a defect in the estimation of those for whom he wrote ; and we suspect that much of the latter should be attributed, not to the bad taste of the poet, but to the ignorance or negligence of his transcribers.
It is, however, to the historical merits of the Johannis, that we feel solicitous to direct the attention of our readers. For the transactions in Africa, during the reign of Justinian, our chief authority is Procopius ; nor can we desire a better, wherever the reputation of Belisarius is concerned. That hero is the object which attracts the eye of the historian ; and as long as Belisa- rius is engaged in the war against the Vandals, the narrative of
312 '. Corippi Johannis.
Procopius is full and satisfactory. But after the triumph of his patron, it is only occasionally that he casts a transient glance on the reconquered provinces, and of the well-earned laurels won by John in the war against the Moors, he says barely sufficient « to awaken our curiosity. On these subjects, the work ofCorippus I may be usefully consulted. It will serve to correct some of the errors which Procopius has committed, and to fill up the chasm which he has left. Nor will it form a strong objection to the credit of his statements, that he has moulded them into the shape of a poem. The fictions of the poet will be easily distin- guished from the narrative of the historj.an. To the first class, belong the visions and speeches of the leaders, the feats of per- sonal valour performed by the combatants, and occasional ex- aggeration in the description of places and individuals. But the substance of the facts, their succession and their result, may be taken as legitimate history.
The Moors equally considered the Vandals and the Romans as strangers, and invaders of their country. The Vandals, as long as they ruled, experienced the enmity of these barba- rians: on the extinction of their kingdom by the victories of Belisarius, it was directed with similar perseverance against the conquerors. It was in vain that attempts were made to purchase their friendship : on the first provocation, real or ima- ginary, the hatred of the Moors revived ; and every Roman governor found himself repeatedly engaged in war against the predatory tribes, which swarmed along the frontiers of the pro- vince. Solomon, the eunuch, inflicted on them a severe punish- ment in the beginning of his government ; but, in 543, they took ample revenge in the bloody field of Tebeste. Solomon was slain ; his army was dispersed ; and the imperial eagles, the trophies of victory, accompanied the wandering hordes of the desert. These with other particulars are, on the authority of Procopius, related by Gibbon in his forty-third chapter, in which he undertakes to describe the troubles of Africa, after the depar- ture of Belisarius. Having mentioned the fatal battle of Tebeste, he abruptly concludes the subject with these words : — " The arrival of fresh troops and more skilful commanders soon checked the insolence of the Moors ; seventeen of their princes were slain in the same battle ; and the doubtful and transient submission of their tribes was celebrated with lavish praise by the people of Constantinople." If this account be meagre and unsatisfactory, the English historian is not to be blamed. He was destitute of authorities ; and had he said more, he must have been content to draw for the materials on his own imagina- tion. But let us suppose that the Johannis of Corippus had
Corippi Johannis. 313
then been published, and we may conceive him to have con- tinued his narrative after something of the following manner.
" For seven years after the fall of Solomon, during the feeble administration of Ariobindus, the short-lived tyranny of Gontaric, and the unstable rule of Artabanus, the African provinces were the continual scene of barbaric devastation. The Moors an- nually repeated their visits with impunity, reduced the open country to the state of a desert, and swept away the defenceless inhabitants into a miserable captivity. At last the groans and complaints of his subjects penetrated to the ears of Justinian ; Artabanus was recalled to a more pacific employment ; and the command was conferred on John, the Patrician, a veteran and distinguished officer, allied by descent and marriage to the im- perial family. From the eastern frontier, where he had signal- ized his valour against the Persians, the master-general of the army, (such was his new title,) repaired to Constantinople, bowed before the throne, and kissed the feet of the emperor,* and, taking with him a plentiful supply of men and stores, hastened to the relief of Africa. His presence revived the droop- ing spirits of the provincials ; reinforcements were drawn from the neighbouring garrisons ; and Cutzina, a Moorish prince, joined, with the warriors of his tribe, the imperial standard. To prepare for the approaching struggle, was the employment of Antalas, the chieftain of the Moors of Byzacium, who had formerly gained renown by the defeat of an army of Vandals, and had continued for years the faithful ally of the Romans. But the murder of his brother through the jealousy of Solomon had changed him into a bitter enemy ; and the thirst of revenge had prompted him to guide the LebanthsB,-j- in their destructive in- roads into the Roman provinces. He now sought for allies from mount Auras to the two Syrtes ; the call was obeyed by the several nations, and the Moorish host, an innumerable multi- tude, accompanied by their families and flocks, halted by his
* Procidit ante pedes, divinisque oscula plantis Pressa dedit. Johan. p. 8.
Nor was this humiliating ceremony confined to the person of the emperor : the same respect was paid to his representatives. When tlie officer whom John had sent to the camp of the Moors, returned to relate the success of his mission, he first, according to custom, kissed the feet of " the master."
Pedibusque boni tunc more magistri Oscula pressa dedit. Johan. p. 62.
•f- Tliese were the Moors, bordering on the province of Tripolis. By Corippus they are repeatedly called Languantan, which was probably their trt:e appellation. In Procopius they are sometimes called MvuSai, sometimes Aei/Ka0(ti, and »om«- times ti%^ivd(u.
814 Corlppi Johannis.
direction on the mountains in the neighbourhood of Byzacium, The conflict which followed convinced " the master," that he had to contend with no despicable enemy. Twice was the vic- tory wrested from his grasp by the valour of the allied chiefs, Antalas and Bruton, who, with fresh troops, checked the pursuit, restored the battle, and even made impression on the ranks of the Romans. A third charge compelled the Moors to give way | but they retired slowly to their camp, situated on the summit of a mountain, and fortified with all the skill possessed by the barba- rians. Walls had been constructed of loose stones ; trenches had been sunk in the soft earth ; and palisades had been firmly fixed in the ground. Even the cattle, otherwise an encum- brance, had been employed for the purpose of defence : and, wherever the ascent was less difficult, camels, sheep, and oxen, fastened by cords to each other, had been placed in dense masses, to impede the advance of the enemy. Here the Moors made their last and most obstinate efibrt : but their rude valour proved no match for the obstinacy and discipline of the foe: every ob- stacle was surmounted : the Romans forced their way into the camp, and, though the cavalry of the barbarians escaped, the tribes that fought on foot were almost annihilated. John re- turned in triumph to Carthage. To the provincials, the long train of captive females with their children,* offered some con- solation for the evils which they had formerly suffered : by the army the recovery of the eagles, lost by Solomon in the disas- trous battle of Tebeste, was considered as the most glorious fruit of the victory.
*' But, if ' the master' thought that he had broken the spirit of the barbarians, he had soon to lament his disappointment. The cry of revenge was echoed from tribe to tribe as far as the banks of the Nile ; a new and more formidable league was organized ; the oracle of Jupiter Ammon was consulted ; and the chief com- mand was assumed by Carcasan, king of the Nasamones, as the fortunate leader, pointed out by the ambiguous answer of the oracle. Avoiding the force, left for the defence of Byzacium, Carcasan burst into the province of Tripolis, and had spread the flames of war to the river Triton, before John could collect his scattered detachments. But the Moor had derived a salutary lesson from the fate of the last campaign. Instead of meeting
• Captivas cernere Mauras
Ire juvat, celsis inscriptaut fronte camelis Impavidae sedeant, parvosque sub ubere natos Contineant, ausae geminis ambire lacertis Sarcinulas super, et parvi cunabula lecti. Heu miserss matres ! Johan. p. 92.
Corippi Johannis. 31ft
the enemy in the field, he turned at their approach into the desert : the master followed ; and both armies were equally ex- posed to the scorching rays of the sun, and the suffocating blast of the scirocco ; both equally suffered from the want of water^ and the scarcity of provisions. To such evils and privations the Moors were habituated : but the Romans murmured against the obstinacy of their leader ; their horses perished by hundreds ; and John reluctantly abandoned the pursuit, to encamp on the banks of the nearest river.
" But the Romans were not long permitted to enjoy the luxuries of shade and water. Early the next morning, the two armies sud- denly came into contact with each other,whether it was that Carca- san sought to fight in a spot unfavourable to the arms and evolu- tions of the Roman cavalry, or that ignorant of Uieir position, he wished to refresh his weary followers in the same valley. John en- deavoured to decline an engagement amidst the trees and under- wood, which bordered the river : but he could not restrain the impetuosity of his men ; they pursued the retreating Moors to the foot of the mountains ; Carcasan gave the preconcerted signal ; and the multitudes of barbarians started out of the glens, and poured down in numerous masses on the enemy. The friendly Moors were the first to turn their backs, many of the Romans, astonished and dismayed, followed their allies ; and John alone, surrounded by his guards, ventured to oppose the fury of the enemy. For some time he kept them at bay ; but, convinced of the inutility of his efforts, he seized an opportunity to withdraw from the scene of slaughter, and urged his flight to the nearest fortress on the borders.*
'• To repair this loss, to avenge this disgrace, now became the chief object of his attention. He collected the remains of the army, he filled up the vacant ranks with recruits from the pro- vinces, and he purchased with presents and promises the ser- vices of the least hostile among the Moorish chieftains. labdas repaired to the camp with twelve thousand warriors from mount Auras ; Cutzina joined with thirty Byzacene chiefs, each of whom
• Corippus, as a set-off against the disgrace of the defeat, is diffuse in his praise of the personal courage of his hero. It was, however, to the skill of the archers that John was indebted for his safety.
Sequitur quicumqne magistrum, Vulnera converso redeuntia suscipit aicu : Adversus quis forte petit ? Per pectus anhelum Longius erecta transiixus funditur hasta : Qui lateri veniunt, jaculis vplitantibus acres Daut auiuias : utrumque latus diffindit arundo.
Johan. p. lilt
316 Corippi Johannis.
was followed by a thousand men ; and Ifisdaias led to his assist- ance an innumerable host from the swarthy tribes of Numidia. A long succession of carriages, laden with stores and provisions, accompanied the army ; and a fleet of transports was ordered to follow its motions near the shore. These formidable preparations did not intimidate the resolution of Carcasan, who proposed to enter the Roman province and meet the shock of the enemy : but he was induced to listen to the more prudent advice of An- talas ; the Lybian desert again offered a retreat to the allied tribes ; and ' the master ' followed with the determination of forcing them to a battle. For ten days, he fruitlessly continued the pursuit, in defiance of the increasing complaints and the par- tial mutiny of his forces : but on the second Sunday, his wishes were gratified by the impatience or the policy of Carcasan. The Moors hoped to surprise the camp, while the Romans were en- gaged in the religious exercises of the day : but the mass had been celebrated ; the morning's meal had been taken, and the men were already in their ranks prepared to resume their march. Both armies fought with all that resolution which revenge and confidence can inspire ; and the fortune of the day remained in suspense, till Carcasan himself was transfixed by the lance of ' the master.' His fall decided the contest. The Moors in de- spair fled in every direction, and the open plain exposed them to the pursuit of the Roman cavalry. So great was the slaughter, that it subdued the spirit of the nation : the survivors solicited the clemency of the conqueror, and gratefully accepted the harsh conditions, Avhich it pleased him to impose. The liberator of Africa led back his victorious forces to Carthage ; nor was it the least ornament of his triumph, that the head of the Moorish hero was carried in the procession : a circumstance supposed both by Christians and Pagans to have verified the prediction of the oracle, ' that Carcasan should proceed through the streets of the capital, followed by a crowd of captives, and greeted with the joyous acclamations of the inhabitants.' "*
Such, compressed into a small compass, is the substance of the information supplied by the Johannis, as far as regards that portion of the war in Africa, which has been omitted by Proco- pius in his history. But the poem furnishes also many other in- teresting notices respecting the rehgion, the manners, and the geographical position of the Moorish nations.
Populo comitante feretur Urbem per mediam. Vultus mirabitur Afer Terribiles : Uuros curreat pftlinasque ferentes,
J»han. p. 95.
Corippi Johannis. 317.
They were still Pagans : and among their gods the chief place' is allotted by Corippus to Jupiter Ammon. The Marmarides possessed the temple of the deity : but he was equally revered and worshipped by all the surrounding tribes. They consulted his oracle in times of danger, and on questions of importance ; the answers were returned by a female consecrated to his service ; and implicit faith was placed on the accuracy of her predictions. The following description of the prophetess, when she revealed the will of the god to the messengers of Carcasan, furnishes a not unfavourable specimen of the manner of the poet : —
" Asper in adversa percussus frorite bipenni Taurus ut occubuit, manibus tristissima vates Tympana rauca rapit, saltusque altaria circum Cum strepitu lymphata rotat. Salit ardua cervix, Igne micant oculi, consurgunt fronte capilli, Ac facies, testata deum, fervore rubescit. Nunc maculat pallore genas, nunc lumina torquet. Nunc caput alta fremens, ssevos dum colligit ignes. Ut vero toto percepit pectore numen, Suspicit excelsam nocturno tempore lunam Lumine sanguineo, scrutatur fata recensens, Ardet, anhelat, hiat, pallet, rubet, aestuat, alget, Fatidicum dum quaerit iter. Vox improba tandem Prodidit ore fero fiitorum arcana sub auras."
Johan. p. 95.
The deity next in rank to Jupiter was called Gurzil. By Maz- zucchelli it is supposed that Gurzil was only the Moorish appel- lation of Jove : but to us it appears plain that in different passages they are distinguished from each other ; and in one it is clearly asserted that Gurzil is the son of Jupiter : —
" Huic referunt gentes pater est quod corniger Ammon, Bucula torva parens. Tanta est insania coecis Mentibus !" Johan. p. 23.
Jerna, king of the Ilasguas, a tribe distinguished by its superior ferocity, was the high priest of Gurzil. He brought with him to the camp the image of his god, and on the morning of the battle consecrated a wild bull, and let him loose into the open space between the aripies. Had he burst through the ranks of the Romans, it would have been taken as a sure omen of victory. But the bull, after a few courses up and down, turned towards his former quarters, and, at the moment when the Moors opened to let him pass, was slain by the javelin of a Roman horseman. This unluckly presage made a deep impression on the mind of Jerna. He fled with the fugitives, but was overtaken and killed.
VOL. I. z
•'^mmnmmm^fm'
318 Corippi Johannis.
The image of Gurzil fell into the hands of the victors, who broke it into fragments, and threw them into the flames.
A third deity was the god of war, who seems to have been invoked under the name of Sinifer: and a fourth was called Mastiman, answering, as we are informed by Corippus, to the Pluto of the Greeks and Romans. Each of these deities appears to have had his respective worshippers. As they rushed to the conflict, some tribes called on Sinifer, some on Gurzil, and others on Mastiman. The Romans answered by invoking with a loud shout the aid of Christ.
To Mastiman were offered human sacrifices.
" Maurorum hoc nomine gentes
Toenarium dixere Jovem, cui sanguine multo Humani generis mactatur victima pesti. Pro scelus infaustum ! Gemitus miserabilis auras Undique concutiens, clamoribus sethera pulsat."
Johan. p. 142.
Though the great pestilence, which depopulated the human race during the reign of Justinian, had made considerable havoc among the nations of Africa, several of the Moorish tribes are described by Corippus as exceedingly numerous. Of their domestic habits he has scarcely taken any notice. Their riches consisted in their flocks and herds, which furnished them with milk and flesh ; but they had also a competent supply of bread : and he asserts of the inhabitants of Vada, that they reaped two harvests in the course of the year. Their corn was ground after the primitive manner, with a handmill of stone, and this labour was then, as it is still at the present day, confined to the females. In all their expeditions, both migratory and predatory, they took with them their families and flocks ; the women and children, the lambs and kids, were transported on camels and asses ; and, wherever they halted, the encampment of each tribe was distinguished by its peculiar signal.
In the fourth book the state of the two armies is copiously described. The chief force of the Romans consisted in the cavalry, one part of which was armed with spears, the other with bows and arrows, which, during a retreat, were found to be of the greatest service in checking the pursuit of the enemy. For de- fensive armour they were furnished with helmets, breastplates, and shields ; and several of their leaders, unless we mistake the sense of different passages,* were cased, like the barons of the
* " Ferrato corpore toto
Ipse nitet." Johan, p. 68.
" Ferreua ipse suas componens ordine turmas."
Ibid. p. 69.
Gorippi Johannis 319
middle ages, in Coats of mail. The appearance of the infantry is strikingly described in the following lines : —
" Commissas acies dux Tarasis ante pedestres Ardua signa movens, variis componit in armis. Ipse per obliquas distinguit proelia turmas Vectus equo, clipeosque suis conjungere dictat. Tenditur in longum, nexis umbonibus, horrens Martia per latos acies densissima campos. Murorum in morem celantur corpora densis Tegroinibus : solae apparent post scuta bipennes, £t summae galeae cristis conisque micantes. At super erectis horrescit ferreus hostes Campus, resplendetque novis terroribus aer. — Johan, p. 70.
In numbers the Moors far exceeded the Romans ; in arms and discipline they were greatly inferior. Most of them fought on foot as archers or spearmen. They were generally drawn up in a close line, and had been taught to follow their standards. But several tribes were horsemen by profession : they scattered them- selves in all directions over the field, rushed impetuously to the charge, and retreated with equal rapidity. They used the lance and the sword as weapons of offence, and bore a buckler of leather on the left arm, with a turban of coarse linen round the head. Conscious, however, of their inferiority in open com- bat, their leaders sought rather to surprise and terrify their enemy, to improve in their own favour every advantage of situa- tion and climate, and to wear out the strength and patience of the Roman soldier by continued marches over the arid sands and under a burning sky.
To ascertain the relative position of the tribes and places men- tioned by Corippus would require greater leisure and more numerous opportunities of research than we possess. From his pages might be collected much to correct the errors, or relieve the doubts of those who have treated on ancient geography. Thus, it has been contended by many that the country of the Mazaces was Cappadocia : but the testimonies of Lucan, Nemesian, and ClaudiaTi, show that we are to seek for them in Africa; and it now appears from the Johannis that Mazax was the real name of the Moorish tribe that dwelt in the province of Byzacium. The Nasamones and Lebanthes, the Garamantes and Marmarides are sufficiently known from other sources : but, besides these, occur in the pages of Corippus the names of more than twenty nations, of whose existence no trace has been discovered by the editor in any of the ancient writers. Neither do these appear to have been tribes of obscure fame, or minor importance. We meet with the Frexes ;
z 2
Qon Corippi Johannis.
" Fortis gens, et dura viris, bellique tumultu Effera," . ..,
the first, and the annual plunderers of the R"-^™ J—, ' Ij£ the Astures, a tribe of irre^lar horsemen ^^'^^^^1^^^^'^^^ ^t , ,.,„= frtr the raniditv of their motions, and the extent oi mcir uc , PiJIon' X;t^ the Ilasguas, a xno^ nun^ous naUon^ , of the defeat .vhich their ancestors had gi.en ^o^he emperor . Maximian, and considered by thejr countrymen as their surest bulwark agamst the charge of the Roman cavalry .- ^^
i. Non quantus Ilasquas . .
Notum est Marie tibi, quem tantum fama perrenms nv
Prisca canit ; cujus jam Maximianus m armis id
Antiques persensit avos, Romana per orbem jf
Sceptra tenens ? . . . "^
Est aries illis infandi machina belli, Comptaque dispositis ponunt tentoria signis ; Hordda gens, et dura viris, audaxque tnuniphis Innumeris, nullo bellis qu^ tempore cesyt ^^^ ^ ^^ ^^ .
jts^nT^ou^t^s-^J^rtrr^^^^^^^^ S;%f«IJ^:u? anf re ^s^^^^^^^^^^^^^
-t'Z t-gef "^^J^^ 'S • qnoted .frorn iie .ToLnis Tml aaa another, on .cc<^^oi^..^^^^^^ TUof +1.P nrp-an was known as a musical instrument oeiore luoo^ TcXvS^W^^r. from the -orks of St.Augustme (t^
by Corippus, may be considered as the most ancient accouijiH
this instrument in verse -. — . < - *j^^
LUIS luai, viii//l ,fci9^bm /nswiflsm
Sic disponuntur et arte ., <..^r,n.. r^o^jed ami)
Organa plectra lyr^, ^\S'''' ^^^^itinT^^i^^'^^ ^^^f .6 Quam movet ille, sonat contactu fistula vento .
Son chorda;, non aera gemunt, m sponte regentiS. .r
Carmina percussis resonent expressa e^tis. ^^^^ ^ ^^
■ -I' 1 j. :. ■ ilr.f ^1. . -^ —
* some of our readers xnay not Ve ^isple^ed to meet with ^^o^^^^^^^^^^. tion of the ancient organ, in the words of ^^ff °^° ^^'/jii^j^'^.fox copiosissima Ss qua^dam diversis ^f "^^.ft'ofa'^oro^^^^^ ^'
grSSnam effidunt et suavissimam cuutileaam." Tom. n. p. 501.
Corippi Johannis. 321
Before we conclude this article, it will be also our duty to award his meed of praise to Mazzucchelli, the editor. To deci- pher an ancient manuscript, almost illegible through neglect and age, and to correct the errors of ignorant copyists, who had dis- figured almost every line, was no very easy or inviting task. His perseverance and ingenuity have surmounted these difficulties : the true reading of the poem has been restored, as far as conjectural emendation could restore it ; and, that we may judge of the moderation with Avhich the editor exercised this privilege, a correct list of the faulty readings has been subjoined. In his attempts to illustrate the text, he was led to consult a variety of authors, and to discuss certain subjects, not imme- diately connected with the war of Africa. The result of his researches on two of these, though foreign to the history of " the master," will prove, perhaps, not unacceptable to some of our readers.
It has often been disputed whether the island on which St. Paul was shipwrecked was Malta, near Sicily, or Melita, now called Meleda, near Epidaurus. We are told by the sacred pen- man, (Acts xvii. 27.) that the apostle was driven up and down in Adria, when the shipmen discovered that they were near the land which afterwards turned out to be the island of Melita : and hence has been drawn a strong argument in favour of Melida, which is situated in the Adriatic, not far from the coast of lUy- ricum. Mazzucchelli, however, decides in favour of Malta, and plainly shows that the passage in the Acts is not opposed to his opinion, because in ancient times the Adriatic was understood to reach as far as the Sicilian Melita, which, with the isle of Glaucos,
■ was considered the boundary between it and the Tyrrhene sea.
" This is evident from Procopius, (De Bello Vand. 1. i. c. xiv.
';p. 202.)
«- The other subject regards the division of the day into hours.
'Every scholar knows that among the ancients the hours of the day and those of the night were generally unequal. Both day and night were, indeed, divided into twelve equal parts : but, as the time between sunrise and sunset was seldom of the same duration as that between sunset and sunrise, it seldom happened that the aliquot parts of one exactly corresponded with those of the other. That, however, which is not so generally known is, that this in- convenient method of measuring time was retained in Italy, partially at least, as late as the fourteenth century. This Maz- zacchelli has proved from the following passage in Dante : —
* " E da sapere, che ora per due modi si prenda dagli Astrologi : ^ J'uno .si fe, che del di e la notte fanno ventiquattr' ore, civb dodici del
322 Malkin's Classical Disquisitions,
di, e dodici della nolte, quanto che'l di sia grande o piccolo. E queste ore si fanno picciole e grandi nel di e nella notte, secondo che'l di e la notte cresce e scema. E queste ore usa la chiesa, quando dice Prima, Terza, Sesta e Nona ; e chiamansi cosi ore temporali. L'altro modo si h che facendo del di e della notte ventiquattr' ore, talvolta ha il di le quindici e la notte le nove, e talvolta ha la notte le sedici e il di le otto, secondochfe cresce e scema il di e la notte : e chiamansi ore equali : e nello equinozio sempre queste e quelle che temporali si chiamono, sono una cosa ; perocchfe, essendo il di eguale della notte, conviene cosi avvenire." — Dante, torn. iv. par, 1. p. 130. Ed. Ven. 1758.
We must, however, be allowed to say that Mazzucchelli is not entirely free from that fault which is common to most of the literati of his country. Minuteness of research, the accumulation of authorities without attention to their value, and an unwilling- ness to omit any notice however trifling, if it bear the most distant relation to the subject, contribute to swell put their dis- sertations to an unreasonable size, and perplex and torment the attention of the reader. In the present instance the text of Corippus occupies one hundred and fifty pages ; the preface and annotations have extended the volume to five hundred.
Art. III. — Classical Disquisitions and Curiosities, Critical and Historical. By Benjamin Heath Malkin, LL.D. and F. S. A. Head Master of Bury School. 1 vol. 8vo.
When the title of this book first caught our eyes, our classical spirit was at once awakened, and we looked eagerly forward to an abundant gratification of the long-cherished taste of our youth. Classical Disquisitions and Curiosities, critical and historical, by the head master of a highly respectable school, (though we never before heard it classed, as Dr. Malkin has done in his pre- face, among those schools to which the distinction of puhlic is, somewhat arbitrarily, given,) warranted, we think, an expectation of something " insigne, recens, indictum ore aho :" and, the subject naturally putting Horace into our heads, we were almost inclined a second time to adopt his words, and to ask, " Quid dignum tanto ? &c."
But when Ave opened the book in the middle, (as will some- times happen, even when the desultory character of the work does not, as in the present instance, justify such irregular read-
IVfalkin's Classical Disquisitions. 323
ing,) and had read some pages of it, we were fairly puzzled to discover for what description of persons it was intended by its author. The considerable portions of Greek and Latin, which ever and anon met our view, unaccompanied with any translation for the benefit of country gentlemen, showed plainly, that his object was not to help the unlearned squire through the distress (which called forth Bacon's pity) of a rainy day: and on the other hand, looking at the comments by which these passages were illustrated, we could scarcely suppose that he hoped they would engage the attention, and provoke the criticism, of the learned. Lest any of our readers should suspect we are here treating Dr. Malkin unfairly, (than which nothing can be more remote from our intentions,) we will endeavour to vindicate the justice of our observations by an example taken at random : —
" I shall now" (says the learned writer, p. 136) " lay before the reader some passages illustrative of Horace's wit, and humorous delineation of character.
" One of his earliest compositions was written in revenj^e a{]fainst Publius Rupilius Rex, a native of Praeneste, who had affronted him by spittinf^ out his pus atque venenum, his malice and abuse. ThQ etory begins thus :—
" Proscripti Regis Rupilt pus atque venenum Hybrida quo pacto sitPersius ultus, opinor Omnibus et lippis notum et tonsoribus esse."
Lib. i. sat. 7.
** Purblind people and barbers seem at first sight a strange combi- nation ; but it shows the extent of Horace's experience and the acute- ness of his remark. Persons who have a defective sight are curious about every thing that passes, and wearisome with the number and irrelevancy of their inquiries. Nature, when curtailed of one sense, always endeavours to work double tides with another. The ears make good the deficiency of sight, aTid contrariwise. But why are barbers peculiarly inquisitive? Because their shops are the resort of a promiscuous assemblage at leisure hours, a principal mart of vulgar news and vague gossip; by retailing of which the tonsor himself at once gratifies his own appetite, and earns popularity with his customers.
" With respect to the narrative, Rupilius Rex had been proscribed by Augustus in the time of his triumvirate, and had withdrawn to the army of Brutus. He was jealous of Horace's superior fortune, as holding the office of tribune in the army, and indulged in mean scur- rilities on the score of his servile extraction. Horace retaliates by describing the contest of Rupilius before Brutus with a merchant who had business in Asia, by name Persius. The poet calls him Hybrida, the mongrel, because his father was a Greek and his mother an Italian. Rupilius considered himself as a person of great importance ; and the
324' Malkin's Classical Disquisitions.
ridicule is heightened by the elevated tone and mock epic of the de- scription. Nothing can be more keen than the satire conveyed in the equal match of the disputants. The two gladiators, Bithus and Bac- chius, were not better paired. The historically allusive pun at the conclusion may be thrown out as a bone to the snarlers at that uni- versally condemned, but much practised, species of wit.'- *
Now, all this is very Avell ; and reminds us pleasantly enough of what we learnt among other scenes, and in days long gone by. But as to the information and criticism here given to the world, we strongly suspect (for we have not the book at hand,) it is little more than a repetition of what we used to collect from our old friend the Delphin Horace — which, by the way, we heartily wish were excluded, with the rest of its fraternity in tisum serenissimi, (though we do not mean to place them all upon the same footing,) from our schools, as often corrupt in the text, incorrect in the interpretation, and preventing much beneficial labour by the notes. In justice, however, to Dr. Malkin, we ought noAV to say, that if we had read his book with more regularity, we might have been spared the perplexity which the incongruity between the promise of the title-page, and the performance of the Avork itself had caused us, (though that incongruity still remains,) and furnished with a clue to his real design in the publication, by the dedication which stands before it, " To my former pupils." To those who, after their removal from Bury school, or other similar nurseries of learning, have, without " drinking deep of the Cas- talian spring," yet retained their relish for its waters ; and, though occupied with the ordinary business of life, have yet not altogether " ceased to wander w^here the muses liaunt," the miscellany before us will, we doubt not, both serve as a pleasant remembrancer of their early studies, and as a convenient help to the increase) of their classical stores. Let but the pretensions of the book be settled aright, and we shall be most ready to allow it the full mea- sure of praise to which it can lay claim : and Dr. Malkin well knows, that, even where the " prima " are not aimed at, yet " honestum est in secundis tertiisve consistere." It is written in a lively and popular style, and occupies a most extensive an4 diversified surface : containing remarks upon a great \'aTifety''^OT' ancient authors, (with Erasmus to boot,) and characters, a:nd pbints of classical observation in general ; interspersed with copious citations, and thrown together as if wnth a studied contempt of arrangement ; the subject of the firgt chaDt,^,r jb^^jjpg ,',*,a,cpmpara- -^ ■»|[;ft^TM'-'!"/"rh .(niiii! |i'diH:,ril<i'r'jfi} J"'
* Not professing to be among- these snarlers, we are almost tempted to consider Horace's " Regis pus atquc venenum" as prophetically descriptive of a certaiui f(v6/e persQa of our owa days. , mu/j .'ioaki<> jr
Malkin's Classical Disquisition/, 32Sr"
tite estimate of Terence and Plautus," and the two last notices being of Quinctilian and Aristophanes. The following is a fair specimen : —
" Plautus had the raciness of early language, the pith of original genius, and the various resources of a man who had mixed with human life in all its forms, and had kept company with Nature in her working dress as well as in her best clothes. Terence was the associate of gen- tlemen : and though the ascription of his plays to Lslius must be considered as a mere suspicion, arising from the superior elegance and courtly polish of their language; it is both probable in itself, and appears to have been credited as fact by the ancients, that he was as- sisted in his compositions both by him and Scipio, as amateur critics. The consequence of Terence's access to such high society was, that while the diction of Plautus was more poetical, more pointed, more blunt, and more rich in natural touches, he himself maintained a decided superiority in the tone of gentlemanly conversation ; that his copy of the Greek model he had adopted was in the best taste of scholarship ; that his vivacity excited a smile rather than a laugh ; his morals were those of urbanity, not of severity ; his satire tickled with- out stinging. Few authors have furnished a larger number of maxims for the government or illustration of common life. Goldsmith's opinion of him is expressed in his complimentary line on Cumber- land ; —
' The Terence of England, the mender of hearts.*
Plautus, therefore, it should appear from his writings and his habits; resembled Shakspeare, as his biographers, right or wrong, have repre- sented him ; the hero of the deqr-park, of the street before the theatre, or the stage within it. Terence was more like the Congreve or the Sheridan of the court of queen Anne or George the Third." — pp. 6-7.
^' Our next dJCTract,' from the cliapter " On the Epicurean Phi- losophy," will show, that Dr. Malkm, though he is evidently most at home in the light and ludicrous, from which he never abstains lohg, can write soberly and sensibly upon the most serious and
ant)ortant subjects:— _ ,^,^ ,„,.-'... a. .i^>-ra„.-. t
1 , " On the unavoidable tendency of the atomic phlloisorphy t*^ athehnttj Seneca has a strong and pointed passage, accompanied with a candid exception against any inference disadvantageous to the personal piety of Epicurus, and a compliment to the disinterested and philosophical grounds of that piety. 'Tu denique, Epicure, Deum inermem facis. Omnia illi tela, omnem detraxisti potentiam, et ne cuiquam metuendus esset, projecisti ilium extra motum. Hunc igitur inseptum ingenti quodam et inexplicabili muro, divisumque a contactu et a conspectu mortalium, non habes quare verearis : nulla illi nee tribuendi, nee nocendi materia est. . . . Atqui hunc vis videri colere, non aliter quam parentem: grato, ut opinor, animo : aut si non vis videri gratus, quia
32® Malkin's Classical Disquisitions^^
nultum habes illius beneficium, sed te atomi et istae micae tuae forte ao temere conglobaverunt, cur colis ? Propter majestatem, inquis, ejus eximiam, singularemque naturam. Ut concedatn tibi : nempe hoc facis nulla spe, nullo pretio inductus. Est ergo aliquid per se expe- tendum, cujus te ipsa dignitas ducit: id est honestum.' — DeBeneficiis, lib. iv. cap. 19.
" Thus much for the lofty, but cold and inefficient principle on which it was attempted to reconcile the eternal existence of matter with the philosophy of piety ! But the duties of piety are appointed to be prac- tised in the temples and in the streets, and not to be treated as subjects of curious speculation in the library, to feed the reveries of abstrac- tion, or give play to the subtleties of argument. Religion, whether considered in the light of philosophy, or as involving the practical rule of life, is not to be treated as a question between the Deity and the student, but between the Deity and the people: it is neither a code of honour for the gentleman, a string of propositions for the theorist, nor a body of laws for the politician or the legislator, to overawe the many-headed beast. It is a system of faith, a rule of practice, and a fund of consolation to all God's creatures ; and the lowest are as capable as the highest, the most dull as capable as the most acute, the most shallow as capable as the most profound, of comprehending its plainness, and of appropriating its benefits both temporal and eternal." —pp. 39-40.
Were we disposed to enter into particular criticism, the farrago before us would furnish us with a sufficiency of materials for it — but the style of the book is calculated to disarm censure ; and we will only express our wonder, that such a person as Dr. Malkin should have condescended to commit to the grave permanence of the press some of the trifles with which he has here presented us ; useful as he may have occasionally found them in enlivening the formality of a school lesson. And even in these trifles, he is not always happy or correct. For example, Ave have, " One of the great Erasmus's enemies made a spiteful but witless couplet on him, with a plentiful supply of false quantities ; ' Nam nos Bri-. tones non curamus quantitates syllabarum.' " — ^p. 363-4. The manner in which this dictum is here introduced quite destroys what little humour it has ; which consists in making the contem- ners of quantity express their contempt by an elaborate violation of it, in two dimeter iambics : —
Nos Ger | mani | non cu [ ramus QuantI I tales | sylla | barum.
'• Britones" is new to us ! we suppose North Britons are meant ; but it spoils the metrical fun. At p. 356, the Homeric line,
Malkin*s Classical Disquisitions,
is quoted as a verse of " an increasing kind, where the first word is a monosyllable, the second a dissyllable, and so on." If Dr. Malkin thought such things worth noticing at all, he ought to have told his " former pupils," that this example would not serve the purpose for which it had been brought forward by " the dealers in small wit ;" ** ATpeiirjv" being never (which it is scarcely possible to ascribe to accident) used by Homer otherwise than as a quadrisyllable ; never, we mean, (any more than Ylrjkdtitj';,') in the vast number of places where it occurs, having such a positioa in the verse, as to require " eict/i" to be a spondee.
The introduction of " my respected friend, the Bishop of Chester," naturally prepared us for a '* dignus vindice nodus ;" and we were not a little disappointed at finding it only lead to the information, that this illustrious scholar had, in his edition of Callimachus, given no opinion on the merits of the poet. But what will others of Dr. Malkin's friends say, to the mixing up of their names with such a rhapsody as the following ?—
" A whimsical etymology is given for the translation of Hermes into Mercurius : as if the Latin name were a syncopised abbreviation of Medicurrius, medius currebat between gods and men. This surely places him very much in the situation of Francis, in Henry the Fourth : — ' Anon, anon, sir !' Mr. Greatorex, the Timotheus of the
E resent day, will know him for the inventor of the lyre and of the arp. Sir Walter Scott, Mr. Moore, Mr. Southey, Mr. Wordsworth, Mr. Hodgson, Mr. Merivale and the late Mr. Bland of anthological renown, will recognise him as the patron mercurialium virorum, of poets and men of genius. The leader of the opera band will hail him as the first practical musician, and the champion of England as the founder of the fancy.
" But the columns of our newspapers on the morning after St. George's day bear witness, that the public care little about the persons or offices of the courtiers, unless they be made acquainted with their dresses. I therefore give notice to the hatters whom it may concern, that his petasiis was a winged cap. I am not sure that the full-dressed hats of the actors on the Thd&tre Francois furnish a correct pattern of the article. He would certainly employ Hoby to furnish his talaria, if winged sandals were still in fashion ; and if feet were not likely to accept the Chiltem Hundreds in favour of rail-roads. His caduceuM was a wand ; virga, the pedagogue calls it ; with two serpents about it. 'Something too much of this !' " — pp. 328-9.
Too much, indeed ! — and we begin to fear, that our readers will think we are giving them too much also. We have one serious word, however, to say to Dr. Malkin, before we part with him. In the dedication to his book, with a very excusable, though some* what puerile zeal for the place of his education, he has given us a
328 Malkin's Classical Disquisitions,
catalogue of " Harrow worthies ;" among whom, by the way, the name of the present Lord Grosvenor (to say nothing of some others) will, we think, rather startle those who have witnessed the moving effects of his lordship's parliamentary eloquence. The list is closed with the name of Lord Byron ; of which Dr. M. is pleased to observe, that it " will only perish with English poetry ; in the very highest ranks of which his works will stand to the last, when personal malignity, always pursuing the obliquities of superior genius, shall have expended its stock of exaggerated imputation." — p. xx.
With respect to the niche which Lord Byron is to occupy in our national poets' temple of fame, we have no desire to enter into controversy with Dr. Malkin. Chacun a son gout — and this is a subject on which we have heard satis superque. This much however we will say, that, admitting, as Ave readily do. Lord Byron to have been gifted with such a degree of poetical genius, as, had it been properly cultivated and directed, might have shone out with no common lustre ; we yet are so far from agreeing with Dr. Malkin, that we think, for the poetry actually produced by the noble author, he has received more than his full share of public applause, and will add another to the long list of writers, who have rapidly and for ever fallen from the unmerited height of popularity, to which fashion and party had raised them. But it is with reference to the moral tendency of Lord Byron's poetry that we would seriously remonstrate with Dr. Malkin. On his life it is not our business to pass judgment, particularly now that he is removed beyond the reach of any human tribunal. But as an author, he still lives, and is amenable to public censure ; and as long as his writings are circulated, so long do we hope and trust that there will not be a voice wanting to protest against at least their indiscriminate perusal, as agamst the diffusion of a poison calculated to contaminate and impair the moral frame, and corrupt the very life-blood of human peace and happiness. Deeply impressed as we are with this conviction, it was with great regret we found such a man as Dr. Malkin, in a book likely to fall into the hands of the young and unsettled, not only adding the weight of his authority, to sAvell the popularity of Lord Byron's volumes, without one word of qualification, without the slightest caution as to the spirit of impiety and licentiousness, which, in a jgreater or less degree, pervades them all ; but even pronouncing the poet to have suffered unmerited obloquy in this respect, and glossing over his systematic attacks upon religion and virtue with the smooth and seductive character of '* the obliquities of superior genius." What Dr. Malkin means by "personal malignity" we are at a loss to conje'cture. AVe would pot be uncharitable ; but
M-diMn's Classical Disquisitions. f *r x ^^
from all we have heard and read, we fear Lord Byron was not " more sinned against than sinning" on this score. Not less are we puzzled by his complaints of " exaggerated imputation." Is it easy to cast "exaggerated imputations" upon "Don Juan;" a poem addressed to the most dangerous passions in our nature, (as though, alas ! they were not ready enough to break out without stimulants,) and continually holding up to ridicule and contempt the most sacred truths ; sent forth too deliberately, canto after canto, at a period of the author's life, when " the hey-day of the blood is tame ?" Has Dr. Malkin forgotten the atrocious blaspherhies of " Cain?" Has he never heard of " The Liberal?" Is he ignorant that these publications were hawked c^bout, at a cheap rate, by the lowest panders to the taste for ribaldry and profaneness, in the confidence that their character would exclude them from the protection of the law. We would seriously ask him whether he would like to see these productions of his favourite bard (and we wish these were all to which we could object) in the hands of his family ; or whether he would be well pleased to find his pupils beguiling their leisure hours with these " obliquities of superior genius :" being, as he is, one whom the wise and good of former days
" Sancti voluere parentis Esse loco." . .
The higher his admiration of Lord Byron's genius, the more careful should he have been to guard his readers against being dazzled by its splendour into a blindness to the mischievous purposes which it was too often made to serve. But we forbear — and have already to apologize to our readers for having been carried by the strength of our feelings further into this subject than we mtended. ,• , '.iff
. We now take oiir 'leave of Dr. Mallcin, tnatiking feim for the ^t^rtainment which his many-coloured volume has afforded us : but venturing at the same time to express a hope, that, when he nexft comes under our notice, he will not be content with pouring upon «s the contents of his classical common-place book, (which we suspect has been the case in the present instance,) but will produce a Avork worthy at once of his own scholarship, and of those imperishable monuments of ancient genius, to which he has devoted his time and attention, so much to his own credit and to the benefit of the rising generation.
3^ Caldcleugh'& and Proctor's Traveh %n BouiK America.
Art. III.— 1. Travelsin South America, during the years \^\^- 20-21 ; containing an Account of the Present State of Brazil, Buenos Ayres, and Chili, By Alexander Caldcleugh, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo.
2. — Narrative of a Journey across the Cordilleras of the Andes j and of a Residence in Lima and other parts of Peru, in the years 1823 and 1824. By Robert Proctor, Esq. 8vo.
A DISQUISITION on the probabilities of South American inde- pendence is now too late : because, to all practical intents, her emancipation is complete. But our acquaintance with her peculiarities, so far from being complete, is still in its infancy : her capabilities and the depth of her resources have never yet been fathomed. The widest field of speculation is just opening ; and had the monopoly of the Spaniards been as complete as they intended, the very discovery of America itself would have been of less consequence to the commercial world than her present enfranchisement. Other nations have repressed the production and consumption of colonists, by confining their sales and pur- chases to the mother country. But Spain went a step farther : she compelled them to purchase from her what their own soil voluntarily offered them. The South Americans were forbidden to work their iron mines, because Spain had iron to dispose of: on pain of death they were prohibited the pi'oduction of wines, olives^ and other articles of general home consumption, because Spain could produce the same for them at an increased price. So lately as 1803, when Humboldt was in Mexico, orders were received from Spain to root up all the vines in the northern provinces, because the Cadiz merchants complained of a diminution in the consump-> tion of Spanish wines. A similar destruction of some extensive and flourishing tobacco-plantations, from similar causes, took place in New Galicia. This was the extreme point of monopoly ; colonies were compelled not by the inducements of convenience or luxury, but at the risk of individual existence, to become pur-, chasers from the mother country. They were not merely for- bidden to grow rich, but were compelled to remain poor. Happily for the world these abuses are at an end, and the attention of Britain naturally turns to ascertain the wants and productions of this new field of commercial enterprise.
Those persons who desire detailed information on the subject, may find it in the masterly works of Humboldt and Thompson's translation of the dictionary of Alcedo. We shall confine our present observations on the history and pecu-
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America. 331
liaritiea of South America, to the narratives of the travellers, whose works are now before us.
Mr. Caldcleugh was in the suite of Sir Edward Thornton when that gentleman embarked for Rio de Janeiro, as minister from this country, in September, 1819. From Rio de Janeiro he went to Buenos Ayres, traversed the continent, passed the Andes into Chili, sailed to Lima, and returned by similar steps to Rio de Janeiro, varying his track across the Andes and the central pro- vinces. Mr. Caldcleugh is evidently a man of enterprise and activity, sufficiently regardless of the ordinary miseries of travellers, and the more real and formidable dangers of the route he took. But he travelled with such a restless rapidity that his sketches of men and manners must be taken rather as the recollections of a passer by, than the conclusions of an observer. Whoever has watched the capriciousness of character in every age and nation, will be startled at the national uniformity of Mr. Caldcleugh's South Americans. Of the Buenos Ayrian he says, " he is free from deceit — would be most obliging were it not for his indolence — and most amiable if he had the slightest command over his passions. ♦ * * The Santa F^cino is more wild, more regardless of the laws, and more cruel than the inhabitant of Buenos Ayres. The Cordovese is more industrious, more religious," &c. p. 102. What can be more unsatisfactory and uninstructive than such general characteristics ? To be able to tell us this, Mr. Caldcleugh ought to have been able to tell us much more. It is the fashion to admit the evidence of hasty travellers on general points, while their short stay is supposed to preclude a knowledge o^ particulars f but the very contrary rule should be adopted : a few detached traits may occur to his notice, and he who is hasty enough to generalize those impressions must be content to be disregarded. National character is the average of individual habits ; an average is the uniform apportionment of particularities, and is more or less to be depended on, as more or fewer particularities enter into the calculation. On no subject, therefore, is the evidence of a rapid traveller so little worth. Even supposing these strong lines of national character to be true, there cannot be a more incomplete and unsatisfying picture. It is like the famous sketch of a sportsman, his dog, and his gun ; all drawn with threa strokes of the pen. »
But Mr. Caldcleugh has generally occupied himself far bettef than on these crude speculations. During his stay at Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Ayres, he collected a mass of information on the history and statistics of those places, and on their botanical and geological peculiarities, which we can safely recommend to those who are entering on the study of South America. - •<
332 Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
Near the city of Rio de Janeiro the Mandioca is chiefly culti- vated. The ingenuity and distress of man must have been on the stretch when this root was first apphed to the purpose of human subsistence. In its natural state it is poisonous, and it is only when the juice is pressed out by heavy weights that it becomes innoxious. The flower is left untouched by any insect, and is the chief food of the lower classes. In municipal regulation, men are arranged in classes according to their returns in Mandioca flour ; thus, in the project of constitution, August, 1820, the privilege of primary elections was confined to those who enjoyed an annual rental of 150 alquieres of Mandioca flour : those who would vote for deputies must be in the annual receipt of 250, and deputies of 500. (See Mr. Caldcleugh's Appendix, No. 4.)
Farther from the city, the fertiUty of the country is exhibited to a degree almost incredible, in the production of Indian corn ; the return on which, Mr. Caldcleugh assures us, is frequently 120 to 1.
In Buenos Ayres, the singular characteristics of the country are forced upon the attention of a stranger wherever he turns. The boundless Pampas, or plains to the south-west of the city, are covered with luxuriant trefoil, and the same exhaustless pastures which from a few stray beasts of the first settlers, were covered with innumerable herds, afford now the chief wealth and subsistence of the country. The inhabitants of the Pampas, living almost exclusively on flesh, are frequently ignorant of the very taste or existence of bread. Some of the breeders in the plains have 6000 head of horses Mone, besides horned cattle, (vol. i. p. 157.) Every thing is equestrian ; the mounted beggar prays for charity from his steed, the nets are dragged out of the water by horses, corn is thrashed, and clay prepared for moulding, by turning in a number of young horses, and compelling them to gallop in the straw or the brickearth. The swan on the Rio, and the ostriches (nandus) in the Pampas, are taken with thongs of leather, to the extremities of which wooden balls and lead are attached ; the Gauches (or rustics) throw them about the necks of the birds, the balls whirl round, and the thongs entangle them, (vol. i. p. 153.) The Gaucho chief, Ramirez, used to secure his prisoners " after the taste of his country : he belted them round the waist and arms with a wet hide, which, contracting as it dried, caused in many instances their death." (Caldcleugh, vol. ii. p. 169.) Wet hides are twisted about the wheels of the carriages, and increase their compactness by contracting. (Proctor, p. 3.) Grain is preserved in two hides sown together under a roof, (ib. p. 29.) The neighbourhood of Buenos Ayres is subject to the effects of the Pamperos, violent torrents of air which accumu-
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America. 333
late on the cold tops of the Andes, and rush down when the heats of summer have rarefied the atmosphere on the plains below. In his appendix, Mr. Caldcleugh has extracted an account of an extraordinary pampero, in 1793, which laid bare the bed of the Rio de la Plata for three days, exhibiting various old wrecks, and among them the hull of an English vessel, which had been lost upwards of thirty years.
A vast traffic was formerly mai.itained in Buenos Ayres in the yerba or tea of Paraguay. This plant, the consumption of which has become almost a passion in South America, was produced in the greatest abundance in the marshy lands of Paraguay.* But soon after Francia (better known by the name of Dr. Francia) had revolutionized the country in 1810, either really fearing that the health of his new subjects was injured by the unwholesome occupation of gathering the leaves in the swamps, or willing to shut out all foreign intercourse and interference, he stopped the traffic : and the same prohibition which could not fail of produc- ing distress and discontent in Paraguay, has become a source of wealth to the Brazilians, who now supply the markets of Buenos Ayres and Chili with a very inferior article. While Chili was supplied from Paraguay there was a constant traffic across the Andes ; but the trade from the Brazils is carried on by sea, and the trade across the mountains has nearly ceased, f
Francia himself has some pretensions to literature, and affects to invite scientific foreigners from all quarters to reside in Paraguay. If his efforts are sincere, or successful, the growing intellect of iiis subjects will assuredly run counter to his own contracted notions of poUtical economy, and force him to revive that traffic with Buenos Ayres for which both countries have so many natural advantages. The Rio de la Plata is navigable under the names of the Parana and Paraguay, for nearly one thousand miles and is above a mile in breadth at the city of Assumption, in the very heart of Paraguay. The stream is gentle, the fall being estimated for many degrees of latitude at one foot in one thousand. When Paraguay renounces the cultivation of her tea, she renounces a source of wealth for which she is adapted beyond all the rest of the world — in other words, her only means of attaining importance in South America.
The slave population in Buenos Ayres has greatly decreased,
• In 18 14, no less than 20,000 bales were sent to Buenos Ayres alone, ('vol. i.p. 132.) t There are four passes in the Andes fronj the provinces of Mendoza, San Juan, and the Pampas. Patos opposite San Juan, Uspallala, in front of Mendoza, the Portillo, thirty leagues south of L'spallata, and El Planchon opposite the port of Conception, (vol. i, 298.) Mr. Caldcleugh passed by the third and returned by the second of these.
VOL. I. 2 A
334 Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
owing partly to emancipation and partly to the nature of the country, which prevents it being so dependent on slaves, as the Brazilians, among whom mines and coffee and sugar plantations abound, are willing to Consider themselves. In 1813, freedom was ensured by law to all the children of slaves born after that time. Mr. Caldcleugh sdys, the importation into Rio de Janeiro amounted to 21,000 annually! (vol. i. p. 81) and that two or three other places imported still more largely. The price is so regulated that half a cargo landed pays for a whole cargo shipped, so that the merchant is well content to starve or suffocate half on the passage. The price of a slave varies from 25/. to 40/. according to his muscular power, or from lOOL to 200/. according to his accomplishments.
In his second visit to Rio de Janeiro, Mr. Caldcleugh made an excursion to the mining districts, for his minute details of which we have only room to refer our readers to his book. Those whose pecuniary existence is staked on South American mining com- panies, iii^y find something in the evidence of an eye-witness to bring them to their senses.
Mr. Caldcleugh passed a number of the nests of the copim, (white ant,) five feet high, and formed of white clay, which are said to exhibit a singular chain of dependent existences: they are frequented by a toad, a snake, and a seriema. The toad eats the ants, the snake eats the toad, and the bird eats the snake, (vol. ii. p. 194.)
In February, Mr. Caldcleugh began his journey across the plains of thistles which extend above Buenos Ayres to the Pampas, on his way to the Andes. It is on this journey that Mr. Caldcleugh gives the reins to his genius It was all between him and his note-book. He had " the staff in his own hands," and he has laid about him manfully. He had no companion to throw in doubts on the journey, or to stand forth in behalf of the public on the publication of the journal. Other travellers have been contented to astound their readers with rare combina^ tions of nature which no one can contradict, because no one has had an opportunity of beholding. But Mr. Caldcleugh's grandes c hoses are founded on subjects with which we are all well acquainted. >
His great enemies on the journey were bugs* and Indians: the former compelled him to sleep outside the house, and then came at night, in size between a large cimex and a small black beetle,
* Mr. Proctor complains of the sHme enemy throughout his tour. On a journey to the Pasco mines in Peru, inquirmg one evening whether there were any fleas ia the house, his host coolly answered, " Si Senor : hembra y macho" — male and female, (p. 304.)
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Trave^ln South America. 335
(as our author with solemnity expresses it,) to " attack their prey in the yard !" (vol. i. p. 281.) The latter interrupted his journey on the 5th of March ; and it was on that occasion, among many others, that our author and his horses exerted themselves to a degree which we must explain to our readers, because it is evi- dent they have little or no idea of what a horse can do. Far be it from us to throw a shadow of doubt on the exploit. Mr, Caldcleugh could not have been mistaken in the distances, as he seems to have ascertained the different stages with such minute accuracy, that he distinguishes between a stage of six leagues and one of six short leagues. He started at seven o'clock in the morning, so little in a hurry, that we have much valuable information on the botanical and geological peculiarities of the wayside. He rode fifty-six English miles, (we take the lowest rate of the league, given in p. 241,) and arrived at Aquadita at half-past three o'clock. Here he got a "small chesnut," which he rode fourteen miles: the Indians appeared; away went Mr. Caldcleugh and his chesnut, up and down three ridges of moun- tain ground, covered with " large masses of rock ;" the heat excessive, with his baggage horse in his train, till he reached a valley, where he was joined by. some country people : after a short delay off they went again, Mr. Caldcleugh carrying a "heavy child" in his arms still on the chesnut, for seventy miles more I making a total of one hundred and forty miles during the day, the last eighty-four of which were performed on one horse (the little chesnut) between half-past three, and half-past eleven, at night ; nearly eleven miles an hour the whole way, exclusive of stoppages, and nothing lost but a pillion ! However, Mr. Caldcleugh admits his horses were tired, " and," he says, "it was to me a matter of wonder how they could gallop over the rugged paths of the Sierra, strewed with the debris of primitive rocks. What beautiful specimens I was forced to leave behind ! Some of the finest rose quartz 1 ever beheld!" (p. 26G.) What inimitable strength and coolness ! with a troop of hungry Indians behind him, to gaze still with scientific discrimination on rose qnarta, going at the rate of eleven miles an hour on one horse for eighty-four miles, and on an up-and-down road composed of debris of primitive rock. After this triumph over distance and time, Mr. Caldcleugh is justified in crying out in his second volume, that he had " vmiversally remarked in South America, that the people have no idea of time or space." (p. 170.) How- ever this may be, our traveller seems admirably calculated to teach them the newest ideas on those two metaphysical existences.
But the living horses in the Pampas are nothing to the dead mules in the Andes. " Here and there, and more particularly at
/b A M
336 Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
the turns of the track, the carcasses of mules, which had fallen forty, perhaps a hundred years ago, appeared as plump and per- fect as if they had died only the preceding day." (vol. i. p. 308.) Our author rightly dismisses a phenomenon so trivial on this voyage of wonders, without a single observation. Although our English mules, in the same situation, (for they were below the line of. the perpetual snow,) Avould have certainly decayed. Since the constitution of these animals is so admirable as to preserve them in good flesh and condition for a century after death, we cannot wonder that one of them could carry Mr. Caldcleugh along the Andes, in snow up to the rider's knees, (vol. i. p. 315,) i. e. allowing for the high saddles of the country, nearly up to the animals withers : on an English animal, or in English snow, he would have stuck fast ; but, for all that, he might make rapid progress in Rhodes or South America. Mr. Caldcleugh's style rises with his subjects; he arrived at the river Portillo, "which rushed down with a tremendous torrent, regardless of the masses of rocks which had fallen into its bed, from the elevated peaks on each tide." (p. 305.) What could induce the thoughtless river to disregard those rocks of granite we cannot tell : our only con- cern is with Mr. Caldcleugh, who arrived safe at Santiago de Chile on the 21st of March. The squeamish philosopher who looks for nothing but matter-of-fact, might be staggered at this land journey ; but we, whom experience has rendered less par- ticular, take things as they come. We open our mouths and swallow good and bad together Avithout promising to digest them. Mr. Caldcleugh made a very short stay in Chili, — but he has made up for any lack of original information by a closet-history of the Araucanos, extracted chiefly from Molina. The account of those unconquered tribes on the south of the Biobio, is plainly and well digested by Mr. Caldcleugh, and not the less valuable for being a compilation. He has given us an improve- ment on the singular story of Benavides. As Captain Hall's ac- count of this man, may not be fresh in the memory of all our readers, we extract the following lines from p. 322, of his first volume. "The history of Benavides is curious. He was a native of Conception, and served, for some time, in the Chilian army, from which he deserted to the Royalists, but was retaken at the battle of Maypo, 1818. He was of a ferocious character, and as, in addition to the crime of desertion, he had committed several murders, he was sentenced to death, along with his brother and other delinquents. Accordingly the whole party were brought forth in the Plazo of Santiago and shot. Benavides, who though terribly wounded, was not killed, had sufficient fortitude to feign himself dead. The bodies being dragged off, were left
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America. 337
o
without burial to be destroyed by the gallinazos, a species of vulture. The sergeant who superintended this last part of the ceremony, was personally inimical to Benavides, for murdering some of his relations ; and to gratify his revenge, drew his sword and, while they were dragging the body of his foe to the pile, gave it a severe gash across the neck. The resolute Benavides bore this also without flinching, and lay like a dead man amongst the others, until it became dark ; he then contrived to extricate him- self from the heap, and in a most miserable plight, crawled to a neighbouring cottage ; the generous inhabitants of which re- ceived and attended him with care." He was retaken, and shot (to death,) on the 23d of February, 1822. Mr. Caldcleugh not only mentions these two executions, vol. i. p. 341, and note, — but hangs him besides, in p. 36, vol. ii. The philan- thropist will be glad to hear that this last account is inaccurate, and that Benavides only died twice !
Mr. Caldcleugh embarked for Peru, but as his voyage there and back, and his stay in Lima, were all comprehended in the space of a month, (his residence in Lima being limited to a week,) his information is chiefly derived from the conversation of others. We cannot agree with our author's speculations on the effects of the climate of Peru.
Adopting the principles of Mr. Daniell, he supposes that the snowy Cordillera, near Lima, is a great condenser, by which the evaporations from the Pacific are precipitated, " and thus the waters of the Pacific again pour down by the Amazon and other streams, to join the Atlantic, and thereby lessen the difference in the relative heights of the two oceans, according to the received opinion in this part of the world." (vol. ii. p. 19.) When the proportion between the ocean and its tributary streams is con- sidered— a proportion by which it has been calculated that the waters discharged by all the rivers of the world would fill a space equal to the bulk of the ocean in not less than 56,000 years — it seems absurd to suppose, that the tribute of the Amazon, could have any sensible effect on the relative elevation of the two main oceans of the earth ; whose tendency to equalization is assisted by an unlimited communication to the south, and which can only be disturbed or corrected by causes far greater than the petty efflux of a river.* Unluckily too we
* We venture to give the following; more particular disproof of our author's theory, though the data on which it is founded are approximations rather tlian facts. The Amazon is calculated to discharge 1,280 times more water than the Thames : the discharge of the Thames is rated at four-tenths of a cubic mile per vnaum. Therefore, putting the area of the Atlantic at 25,000,000 square mil«s,
0
338 Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
suspect our author's cause and effect are equally wrong. Modern observations have shoAvn that the Atlantic is higher than the Pacific at the isthmus of Darien : — for which we think the following satisfactory reason may be assigned. The rarefied air continually rises from the equator, and its place is supplied by streams of air from the polar regions, which in their turn re- ceive by an upper current the air from the equator. But these streams from the poles, when they arrive at the equator, having a less rapid rotatory motion than the earth itself, become, in effect, a constant easterly wind. Experience has confirmed the fact ; and its obvious tendency is to create a partial accumula- tion of water in the gulf of Mexico.* So that the effect of the Amazon (such as it is) is to increase, not diminish, the difference of the elevations of the two oceans at the isthmus.
Here we take our leave of Mr. Caldcleugh, in perfect good humour with him and his book. He has a singular facility of expressing himself intelligibly, and his work is filled with a vast variety of local information and historical detail.
Mr. Proctor was agent to the contractors for the Peruvian loan, and in the early part of the year 1823, passed from Buenos Ayres, across the Pampas, and over the Cordillera into Chili and thence to Lima. When the Royalists entered that capital, Mr. Proctor went to Truxillo, on official matters, and there witnessed the singular dissolution of the congress by Riva Aguero, which we shall extract in another part of this article. After a short stay, he returned to Lima, and resided there nearly a year. In crossing the continent, he seems totally to have disregarded the " rose quartz," and other mineralogical objects of Mr. Cald- cleugh's curiosity. He had a more elevated turn, of which we give our readers a singular specimen. "We passed a lake sur- rounded by stunted trees, on one of which was still seen the body of an Indian, hanging by his wrists ; it was perfect, but quite dry, and appeared to have been that of a tall man. I cut off one of the arms, quite devoid of smell, and have kept it as a curiosity." p. 28.
To a man who would describe the grandeur of mountain scenery, nothing is so irksome as the inadequacy of language. But never did man hazard so bold an attempt as Mr. Proctor's
tlie daily augmentation of its height, from the Amazon, would not amount to the 250ih part of an inch. The Amazon, large as it is, is but a steam-drop on the condenser, trinkling back into the great reservoir.
* This effect has been seen on a small scale in the canal in St. James's Park : ia which, under the influence of a strong wind, the elevation at the two extremities has been considerably different. (We give this, we believe, on the authority of Professor Vince.)
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Traveh in South America. 339
eflTort to paint the loftiness of the Andes. At a distance of 170 miles, he says, from the summit, the Andes " rose to such a height that we were obliged to strain our necks back to look up at them." ! ! (p. 45.) We have it in our power to assure Mr. Proctor, that he used an unnecessary exertion. The highest peak in the Himalaya, which rises 27,000 feet above the plains of Go- rak'hpur is seen from thence under an angle of 1° 22', at 136 miles. Now Mr. Proctor's distance was greater, and the per- pendicular height of his object incomparably less : and making him the extreme allowance for terrestrial refraction, a mere in- spection of a table of sines will show, that he must in fact have viewed the Andes at an angle of less than 1° ! Therefore so far from its being necessary to " strain back his neck," there waa scarcely need of a sensible elevation of his eyelids above the horizontal level !
It is rarely our lot to detect so monstrous an hyperbole, and we are willing now to suppose, that Mr. Proctor devised it in his closet, to aid the conception of his readers, under the idea that it might really have been the case.
We are the more inclined to think charitably of this bold passage, because the chief merit of Mr. Proctor's book, is its matter-of-fact tone. He tells us all the little incidents of his journey in the clearest and most interesting manner. We regret that our limits forbid us to extract a variety of passages to which we can only refer our readers. It is a short narrative, and will amuse those who take an interest in the personal observations of a man that travelled in wild scenes and wild times, without any striking adventures or eminent perils, Mr. Proctor had the good fortune to see and converse with all the chief actors in the South American revolutions: — San Martin , at Mendoza, O'Hig- gins, at Valparaiso, Riva Aguero, at Truxillo, Bolivar, at Lima, Rodil, at Callao, &c.
At Lima, where he resided for many months, his observations are more diffuse. He launches into the amusements, politics, history, and statistics of the place, with considerable success. In the 32d and 33d chapters, he has given a very picturesque ac- count of the bull-fights, exhibited for Bolivar. His historical details are chiefly composed of events, (and no ordinary ones,) of which he was himself an eye-witness.
We wished to have given our readers a sketch of the revolu- tions in South America; but after collecting a variety of ma- terials, we found it impossible to condense them into the com- pass of a single article ; and we have the less to regret it, because we are sure that those who really wish to acquire a knowledge of the subject, would be little satisfied with three pages of names
340 Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
and dates. Events which have accumulated for nearly twenty years, and which constitute the history of seven revolutions, of Colum- bia, Buenos Ayres, Paraguay, Brazil, Chili, Peru, and Mexico — cannot be abridged beyond a certain point : if any are omitted, those with which they are connected, though truly told, have the effect of inaccuracy ; for they convey false notions to the reader. If, for instance, we were to say, that at a certain time, Bolivar caused nearly 800 prisoners to be slain in cold blood, without mentioning the succession of causes which led to that unhappy transaction, and the objects it was intended to ensure, we should give an unjust picture of a celebrated man.
We again, therefore refer our readers to books of more copious information, than we can pretend to give. Thompson's " Transla- tion of the Dictionary of Alcedo," — a most valuable part of which Eublication consists in the additions of the translator, — under the eads of Venezuela, La Plata, &c., enters largely into the history of the revolutions. Our own observations shall be general, or when they cease to be general, shall chiefly be confined to events of a later date than the regular histories have reached.
The disturbances in Spain, during her struggle with France, were the occasion, — but, they were not the cause of the revo- lutions in South America. The minds of men were already eager for a change, when the embarrassments of Spain presented an opportunity for the explosion. If this were not the case, it is impossible that the rising should have been so simviltaneous and concordant in the distant and differeftt. provinces into which South America was divided.
The Patriots have uniformly prided themselves on supporting
war of "opinion." The only exception to this has been in Peru, where the enormojis. individual w^ealth of the leading men, and other causes, predisposed a majority in the state against any change of things. It is quite certain, that without external assistance, a revolution in Peru would neither havQ suc- ceeded nor h^ive been attempted. So well aware was San Martin of this, that when he landed at Pisco, in cooperation with Lord Cochrane, (August, 1820,) he not only tied down the impetuosity of his troops, but throughout that campaign displayed a degree of inactivity which exposed him to taunts,, and even suspicion. His object was to let men ruminate on the new opinions, before he had clenched their prejudices by an ill- timed attack. He wished to encourage discussion, and sanction the growing desires of freedom, by the presence of an army of freemen. The finest part of San Martin's histoiy, is this volun- tary sacrifice of an opportunity of signalizing himself, in order that the emancipation of the people might be guaranteed by its
a
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America. 341
only apology, and its only safeguard, ** universal opinion." It was then this universal opinion, and the predisposition <jf men's minds that gave birth to South American freedom. The Creoles, whose wealth and numbers constituted the bulk of property and' the flower of the population, could not for ever endure to be ex- cluded from all places of trust, and honour, and emolument.* The faulty institutions of Spain, and the growing intellect of her colonies, tended to the same point, — the independence of the latter. It was not in the nature of things, that America should for ever condescend to be the appendage of the most fallen natiod in Europe.
The struggle commenced in Venezuela and parts of New Gra- nada ; and to these, the hellish part of the struggle has been <;onfined : but the scene was wide enough, and the time long enough for atrocities and reprisals we shudder to remember.
In Buenos Ayres, almost a bloodless revolution was effected ; and in 1816, at a sovereign congress assembled in Tucuman, D. Juan Martin Pueyrredon was named director of the united provinces of the Rio de La Plata, extending from Buenos Ayres •to the foot of the Andes.
In October of the same year, independence was solemnly pro- claimed. In fact, the enemy to the tranquillity of Buenos Ayres, had for some time existed more in the ambition of their Por- tugueze neighbours, than the efforts of their old masters. The Brazilians had seized Monte-Video, at the same time proclaiming the' independence of Buenos Ayres, that one act might palliate the other. The whole of the Banda Oriental followed, and the river Uruguay became the boundary of the Brazilian empire.
As Chili was still unable to extricate itself from the Royalists, San Martin, whose personal influence and exertions were the origin of the enterprise, passed the Andes from Mendoza at the head of the Buenos- Ayrian troops, and overthrew the Spaniards in a pitched battle at Chacabuco, on the 12th of February, 1817. On occasion of this celebrated passage of the Andes, San Martin is said to have taken a singular advantage of the faithlessness of his Indian allies. He communicated to them his line of march with strict injunctions of secrecy : and as he very well knew they would betray him, he took a perfectly different direction, and escaped opposition.
On the 5th of April, and on the plain of Maypo, in one of the
I.-, /iiri!. \u. '\i , Ml', /il .Ll'iutu )l" '
♦ ''' Of 17(1 viceroys that have goVern'ed'fliis cduhtry.only four have been Amcri- caoB : and of 610 captaia-gcnerals and governors, all but fourteen have been Spaniards." Manifesto of Buenos Ayres, quoted by Basil Hall, vol. i. p. 289. The same excluding principle extended to the lowest clerks of office.
342 Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
bloodiest battles in the cause, San Martin and O'Higgins defeated the Royalists, and sealed the independence of Chili.
O'Higgins was proclaimed director of Chili, at the suggestion of San Martin, (who refused the title for himself;) but the merits of the director were unable to compensate the defects of the new constitution, and he has been compelled in 1823, to resign to D. Ramon Freire, who continues at the head of affairs.
In August, 1820, San Marten landed at Pisco, to the south of Lima, and in July, 1821, entered that capital, and was declared protector of Peru. Shortly after, the castle of Callao sur- rendered to the Patriots.*
In September, 1822, San Marten convened a congress at Lima, and in their hands laid down the dictatorial powers with which he had been invested, and retired as a private citizen to Chili.
A supreme junta of three persons were appointed, General La Mar, the Conde di Vista Florida, and D. Felipe Alverado, (brother of the general of that name.)
At this time. General Alverado was at the head of about 4,000 men, ready to sail for Intermedios, and . Arenales with a similar force was intended to create a diversion in his favour, and co- operate with him. It is said, that the intrigues and interference of the *' Godos," or Royalists, who had retained their places in the congress, prevented the advance of Arenales to support Alverado ; who was utterly defeated by the united forces of Valdez and Canterac in the neighbourhood of Moquegua. ■ Arenales threw up his command and retired to Chili. His troops placed Santa Cruz, a young officer, at their head, and ad- vancing in disgust upon Lima, insisted on the deposition of the junta, and the election of Riva Aguero to the presidency.
The junta was dissolved, but the authorities of Lima endea- voured to appoint the Marquess of Torre Tagle president. This man (who has been so much talked of, that the reader may wish to know something of him) was governor in Truxillo for the Spaniards, when San Martin was in Chili ; and as his affairs were embarrassed and his estates mortgaged, he was one of the first to invite San Martin, and to stand up for the independence of his country, and the discomfiture of his creditors. He had married the widow of O'Higgins, (brother to the late viceroy and uncle to the director of Chili,) with whom he received a large for- tune. San Martin made him the nominal head of the govem-
• Callao is the harbour of Lima, and distant only a few miles from that city. A succession of forts, whose impregnable strength has been compared to Gibraltar and Algiers, is comprehended under the general nam^ of " ^he castle of Callao. "_
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America. 343
mcnt, with the title of Marquess of Truxillo. In the present ini stance, however, Santa Cruz carried matters with a high hand, and Riva Aguero was made " president and general-in-chief of Peru. Riva Aguero *9 a ♦' Serrano," or native of the highland: he was educated in Madrid, and followed the law in Peru, under the Spaniards. His pen is his forte, but the timely command of the Peruvian loan has done most for him.
About the middle of June, the Royalists, under Canterac, reentered Lima, and the Patriots took refuge in Callao. The congress met in a small chapel, and resuming their opposition to Riva Aguero, committed to General Sucre, (who still plays a conspicuous part in South America,) supreme political and mili- tary powers, till the arrival of Bolivar, who had been invited, and was anxiously expected. Riva Aguero resigned : but as the congress resolved next day to retire to Truxillo, they reelected him, and he accompanied them there.
The congress had never forgiven the forcible election of Riva Aguero, and at Truxillo their quarrels were renewed. Mr. Proc- tor witnessed a signal victory of the latter, which the reader shall have in his own words. " On the 23d of July, a most extraor- dinary occurrence took place. Wishing to see one of the members of the congress, 1 went to the house where they were assembled. While 1 was there, two aid-de-camps of the presi- dent arrived, and notwithstanding the remonstrances of the door-' keepers, they rushed into the hall. 1 heard a considerable bustle inside immediately, and soon aftenvards the door opened, and one of the officers ran out, and drawing his sword, called for the soldiers : his companion was left struggling at the entrance with some of the members, who succeeded at last in excluding him. In a short time, the t\vo officers returned with a party of mihtary, who were placed at the doors to prevent any member from leav- ing the house. The officers then proceeded to collect the re- presentatives in the hall, and a most ludicrous scene followed. Some, who no doubt thought they were to be driven into the chamber to be butchered, betrayed the most contemptible cowardice, and dressed out in silk stockings, embroidered clothes and diamonds, crept into all sorts of dirty holes and corners to hide themselves. The two officers and their men, meanwhile, hunted them up in all directions, and drove them into the salOt like a flock of sheep into a fold. Here one of the aid-de-camps read to the members a long paper, recapitulating all their m^is- conduct towards the state and government, and declaring the congress dissolved. The president stated that he had convicted seven of them of corresponding with the enemy, and these were detained prisoners; but the soldiers having
344 CaldcleiigTi's and Proctor's Tmveh'ih South America.
been withdrawn, the rest were allowed to proceed whither they pleased.
"I was determined to see the end of the affair, and therefore Went immediately to the palace of the prtrsident, where a small tnob was assembled, and where I observed a number of the mem- Ijers whom I had heard a few minutes before protesting against the gross violation of the law and constitution, entering the palace to offer their services, and to congratulate Riva Aguero on the decisive step he had taken. The president soon after showed himself to the people, when the crowd raised a cry of * Viva Riva Aguero :' he replied, that they should rather ex*- claim, ' Viva la Independencia,' and he explained that, in con- sequence of the vexatious proceedings of the congress, he had found it necessary to dissolve that body." — p. 197.
The Royalists left Lima in the middle of July. — ^When the violent dissolution of the congress at Truxillo was known there, the Godo members, who had remained, declared Riva Aguero a traitor, and reappointed the Marquis di Torre Tagle, (July, 1823.)
Santa Cruz who had left Callao, when the Spaniards were before it, on an expedition to Intermedios, landed at Arica. He passed the Cordillera to la Paz, and endeavouring to prevent the junction of the Royalist-generals Valdez and Olaneta, Was out-generalled by the former and retreated on the Desa- quedero with the loss of artillery and the bulk of his troops. Here a council of war was held, and as the members could not agree, the cavalry went off one way, and the infantry another. They fell in with each other on the Cordillera at night, and each supposing the other to be the enemy, an encounter ensued which put a finishing stroke to the disasters of the expedition. The remains of the cavalry, (the best in the service,) after em- barking for Lima, were taken by a privateer from Chiloe,
The jealous unwillingness of Santa Cruz to cooperate with Sucre has been assigned as the origin of the disasters, of which his inexperience was the consummation. He was a young officer, appointed by Riva Aguero, who, we have seen, was indebted to him for the presidency.
The other armament, under Sucre, fell back on the coast, and reembarked ;• the cavalry making a gallant push to Lima, along the coast, under General Miller, an Englishman by birth, who volunteered the experiment in preference to destroying the horses.
f In the mean time Riva Aguero, roused by the report of some trifling success of his friend Santa Cruz, previous to his retreat, had raised the standard of revolt at Truxillo, and declared
Caldcleugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America. 345
against the " Columbian faction," as he termed Bolivar and his party. Bolivar, unwilling to risk a civil war, offered to reinstate him in the presidency, and persuaded Torre Tagle to retire to Chili. Riva Aguero refused to enter into any accommodation, and Bolivar embarked to attack the new revolutionists.
Before any conflict had taken place, Colonel La Fuente, an ad- herent of Riva Aguero, endeavoured to ingratiate himself with Bolivar, by betraying his master ; and Riva Aguero, who thus fell without bloodshed into the hands of the "Liberador," was sent to Guayaquil, from whence he escaped to England. The congress sent instructions to Bolivar to put him to death ; but his great popularity among the Peruvians, induced the general to take milder measures with him.
The castle of Callao had been left in the hands of the regi- ment of the Rio de la Plata, and other Buenos- Ayrian troops, composed chiefly of blacks. On the 5th of January, 1824, a mutiny broke out, the officers were imprisoned, and the Spanish flag hoisted. Moyano, who was then a sergeant, assumed the command. This man had formerly been on the staff, but had been degraded to the ranks when the officer he served was shot for mutiny. He had subsequently i-aised himself to the post of sergeant. The Royahst prisoners in Callao were of course set free. The inhabitants of Lima, in feverish dread of the effects of this change at the port, displaced Torre Tagle, annulled the con- gress and constitution, and sent despatches to surrender the whole dictatorial powers to Bolivar, By him, General Nicochea was invested with supreme civil and military power in Lima, and his vigorous measures restored a seeming tranquillity : but he was obhged at length to retire with his troops from the capital, and on the 27th of February, Lima was entered by the new Royalists and partially sacked.
On the 1st of March, the Spanish troops entered Lima and
restored order. Torre Tagle now vociferated loudly against his
friend Bolivar, and became a staunch Royalist, Ramirez was
placed at the head of the military in Lima, and Rodil in Callao.
, 3ince that time Callao has changed hands more than once.
At the date at which we are now writing, it is reported, that Rodil offered last June to surreuder it to the Patriots ; but on terms which General Sucre, conamanding at Potosi, thought too favourable to grant.,. !,_,, ( ,,,. f ,|f.!/: .r-K-n ., > .-
Callao may be said to be the only place of consequence in the
hands of the Royalists. The independence of the country is
effectually ascertained : but the rapidity with which the wealth
and happiness of the new states will continue to increase, depends
iOn other principles besides political independence. . . ^,1,^;
346 Caldcl6ugh's and Proctor's Travels in South America.
So convinced are we, that the prosperity of the state is deeply affected by the character of the people ; and that such character is mainly formed and led by public institutions, that it is a matter of intense interest to watch the constitutions which have been successively substituted for the Spanish system. Under the head of Venezuela, in Mr. Thompson's great work, the reader may see the form of one of these new schemes. Mr. Caldcleugh in his appendix, (No. 5, p. 300,) has transcribed the project of the Bra- zilian constitution; which sketches the outline of a wise and liberal system of authority. Unhappily, in Chili, a clumsy and unphilosophical doctrine prevailed ; instead of reclaiming the errors of the people by the virtues of the constitution, the con- stitution was modelled upon the imperfections of the people. It is true that public character was at a low ebb,* but the fault was confessedly the effect of the evil system of Spain ; and to frame a new government still on a level with popular defects, is to make those defects eternal. Laws are made not to restrain only, but to form the minds of men : and therefore the obvious policy is, — not to hang a harness on their deformity, but to place a fair mould about them, Avhich they may swell to, and fill up, by the elasticity of intellectual growth. O'Higgins, the first di- rector of Chili, a man of acknowledged integrity, but questionable philosophy, dubbed his countrymen too unenlightened to possess the privilege of election, and the executive assumed the right of nominating and regulating the very senate which was meant to curb it. The unenlightened people, however, had sense enough to overthrow this preposterous fabric, and D. Ramon Freire superseded O'Higgins.
It must, indeed, be the fault of man if South America fails to prosper. The general face of the country is confessedly superior to that of the old world. It is not disfigured by those tracts of waste which occupy so large a share of Africa and Asia. The only real desert in South America lies between Peru and Chili, of a trifling extent, on a general view. It is true that there are prodigious plains, particularly in the basin of the Orinoco, which for certain seasons in the year present no shrub or blade above the scorching sand ; but in the rainy seasons these wide wastes are clothed with the most luxuriant pasture : and it is evident that industry and capital might turn this arrangement of nature to great advantage. — The most singular feature of the country is
* The most universal failing in South America is the furor of gambling-, which possesses all classes. In Santiago, particularly, gambling is part of a man's business, and any thing will do for a bet, Mr. Caldcleugh mentions women who sold melons in the street, betting with the by-standers, whether the fruit were red or white within j till they had nothing but cut melons to sell. (vol. i. p. 371.)
Repeal of the Usury Law's. 347
the extremely level surface of a vast portion of it, comprehending the great basins of the Rio de la Plata, the Amazon, and the Oronoco ; aijd of so small an elevation that it is calculated, if the sea were to rise 50 fathoms at the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, and 200 at the Amazon, the waters would wash the eastern sides of the Andes, and cover the greater part of the continent. This flat face affords, of course, remarkable facilities for the formation of canals and roads, an advantage, particularly on a large continent, of incalculable value : for, to a consumer, an increased facility in the transportation of goods, is like an increased fertility in the land: the produce arrives at its market at a dirni** nished cost.
But nature has given more than the opportunity of inland- navigation. The Rio de la Plata, and its numerous tributaries, the Parana, Paraguay, &c. in the south, the Oronoco and the Amazon in the north, pierce and dissect the whole country. Humboldt and Bonpland, if we recollect right, were the first who ascertained the important fact that the Orinoco was united by means of the Rio Negro to the Amazon. This latter river, the largest in the world, rolls along majestically above 1000 miles without a cataract. For the last 200 leagues the fall is not more than two-tenths of an inch in a mile. The tide runs GOO miles up its deep bed, affording every facility and assistance to navigation.
Even the singularities of South America are the sources of
f)roduction. The Andes themselves support vast quantities of amas and highland cattle : and where a mountain is absolutely sterile, its barrenness generally proceeds from its metallic contents more than compensating for the sterility of the surface.
The philanthro{)ic economist, who looks with alarm and regret on the crowded face of Europe, where the population presses over the means of subsistence, and every channel of existence is full, may turn with satisfaction to America, where the means of subsistence seem indefinite, and where it has been truly said, that •' the principle of population has elbow-room."
Art. V. — Reasons against the Repeal of the Usury Lawt, Murray, 8vo. pp. 144. 1825.
This pamphlet is written in a popular style, and is the latest, and perhaps contains the best exposition of the opinions of those who are unfavourable to the repeal of the Usury Laws. Although, aa wijil be seen, we are not convinced by the •' Reasons," we are
34^ Repeal of the Usury Laws,
glad to see this important subject discussed. The laws regulating the rate of interest have long existed, and often received the sanction of the legislature ; they therefore should not be repealed till the policy of the measure has been demonstrated by a full and temperate discussion.
We are ready to confess that the author of the pamphlet before us has met the question fairly ; he has not like some opponents of the measure in the House of Commons admitted that the results of theory are in favour of the repeal, and at the same time contended that those of practice are against it. He thus states his object : —
" I propose to examine, as far as the materials, which are in every one's hands, will enable me, what the most obvious and important practical effects of the projected repeal would be upon the ditterent classes of the community. So completely, however, have the maxims and speculations of theoretical writers mixed themselves with the facts of the case in the public mind, that even the practical inquiry I pro- pose can hardly be intelligibly conducted, without clearing the way, by examining some of those speculations." — p. 3.
Before we proceed, we would notice, that it appears to us very unphilosophical to make a distinction in argument between theory and facts. What is a theory ? A scheme deduced from a con- sideration of a subject with all its attendant circumstances. If all the circumstances connected with the subject are not weighed and considered, it deserves not the appellation, of a theory, it is an imperfect view, a mere Utopian fancy. When, then, orators and writers distinguish between theory and facts, and admit that a thing is true in theory, but contend that it is false in practice, we suspect that their ideas are not very clear, or that they are glad by any pretence to elude the force of arguments they are . unable to refute. ii»t4
Mr. Jeremy Bentham is justly selected by our author as the -*j father of the system he essays to overthrow. Mr. Bentham's treatise has been declared by the late Sir Francis Baring, and the present President of the Board of Control, to be unanswerable; we were, therefore, not a little curious to know by what process the fallacies were deteci^d which had deceived minds so logical and acute. If we had even thought that Mr. B. might have trusted more to the intelligence of his readers than he has, we should have been convinced of our mistake by the observations contained in the pamphlet now before us. Mr. B. commences his argument by giving a definition of usury. He says, " I know but of two definitions that can possi- bly be given of usury : one is the taking of a greater interest than the law allows, this may be styled the political or legal
I 9 ,.;
Repeal of the Usury Laws. 34u
definition ; the other is the taking of a greater interest than it is usual for men to give and take, this may be styled the moral one; and this, where the law has not interposed, is plainly enough the only one." From these definitions, Mr. B. deduces, that were it not for custom, usury, considered in a moral view, would not so much as admit of a definition, so fer from hanng existence it would not so much as be conceivable ; nor could the law, in the definition it took upon itself to give of such offence, have so much as a guide to steer by: custom, therefore, is the sole basis which either the moralist, in his rules and precepts, or the^ legislator, in his injunctions, can have to build upon. To this" reasoning, to us unexceptionable, our author objects at consi- derable length. He seems to consider such definitions a " triflirig ' about words," " mystifying a subject" ! ! He contends that usury ' may exist independent of any law or market rate of interest ; and triumphantly too ; for, assuming that fraud and oppression on the part of a lender essentially constitute usury, he easily shows that they might exist without any knowledge of a market rate of interest. Neither Mr. Bentham, nor any one in his senses, could imagine that there ever was a state of society in which fraud might not be found in money transactions. In many of the prosecutions which have been instituted under the Usury Laws, there was not the slightest pretence to attribute fraud to the lender, although the transaction in question might be decidedly usurious. Many actions have been brought on a case similar to this : A., a merchant in England, lends a sum of money to B., a merchant in the West Indies, at the highest legal rate of interest, and at the same time it is agreed, that A. shall act as B.'s agent, and sell the goods transmitted by B. to England, and consequently A. is to receive the usual commission upon such sales. Such a transaction has been decided by high legal authority to be usurious, yet what man, the most scrupulous, could say, that it necessarily involved fraud and oppression ? But to such a conclusion the author of the pamphlet before us would have us to come ; for he always treats oppression and usury as synonymous terms. We have been anxious to place this matter in its proper light, for such confusion of ideas, Avhich should be kept distinct, has enabled many a speaker to turn a heart-rending period upon the miseries which would result from a license to take more than the market rate ot interest, and it pervades and vitiates many of the arguments of our author.
Ignorance, too, of the cause which regulates the market rate of interest, has given rise to many errors with respect to the Usury Laws. The market rate of interest must depend entirely upon the average rate of the profits of capital. This needs not
VOL. I. 2 b
350 Repeal of the Usury Laws*
any formal proof. Few men borrow money without expecting to make by the loan more than they give for the use of it. Hence the absurdity of the Usury Laws, which during the late war assigned a limit to interest below the average rate of profit. A merchant who could make twelve per cent, upon his capital, was not allowed to borrow money at six.
Time has removed most of the restrictions which formerly attended the disposal of the various articles of commerce : but money, though admitted to be an exchangeable commodity, still remains in the fetters which were imposed in a barbarous age. Money, we are, however, told, differs from other commodities in many striking circumstances ; and, says the writer of the pam- phlet, " it will be sufficient for our present purpose to call only one to mind. It is money which every debtor oAves ; what he borrows to discharge the various obligations which threaten him, must be, directly or indirectly, money ; and, when wanted for that purpose, it must be procured under the penalty of suffering and shame."
In plain English, he who has incurred debts must procure money to pay them, or otherwise encounter suffering and shame. Be it so. We wish this were literally true ; we wish these were the necessary consequents of not paying debts justly owing. But although money does differ from other commodities, inasmuch as it is the medium by which all obligations must be discharged, the real question is, whether such difference constitutes a suffi- cient cause for the Usury Statvites. The argument is evidently grounded on the ridiculous assumption, that it is a matter of indifference to money lenders whether they lend or withhold their capital. By the way, if this were true, it would rather call for a statute to compel them to lend, than to confine them to a certain rate of interest. But is it not certain that capitahsts are under the same necessity to lend that debtors are to borrow ? The fable of Midas should not be forgotten. Might not indeed a similar argument be used with respect to the venders of other articles as well as of money ? We can imagine one of our ancestors, in his wisdom, thus clearly proving the benefit of the statutes of pur- veyance and pre-emption. ' Bread is the staff of life. It is bread upon which every one subsists : what he eats to support his animal frame must be, directly or indirectly, bread ; and, when wanted for that purpose, it must be procured under the penalty of suffer- ing and hunger ?' Although it is bread that every one eats, the baker is not compelled to sell it for less than the market price. Although, then, it is money that every one owes, why should the capitalist be compelled to part with it for less than an unfettered market would afford? The land-owner and house-owner, too, are subjected to no restrictions. They may dispose of their pro-*
IRepeal of the Usury Lawi» 351
perty, their farms and their houses, for as much as they can get, but the money-holder must not. And why ? The reason, says our author, is very obvious. But, as we suspect many of our readers will not think this matter so very clear, we will give his proof in his own words, and the quotation will also serve to show that he does not disdain to substitute an appeal to the feelings in place of an argument.
" There is no peculiar aptitude in bar^ins made for the hire of houses, to spread ruin and disorder among'st lar^e bodies of the people. The person who wants and treats for them has the unimpeded exercise of his discretion, whatever that may be, and is under no sort of disad- Vantaf^e relatively to the person with whom he proposes to deal ; but iiie debtor, whose need of money is real and pressing, is the slave of a necessity, of which the iron grasp silences all discretion. We hear enough in our early years of the debtor's pillow and the debtor's terrors, and who, that has mixed at all with life, has failed to observe what he was then told falls short of truth. Tlie expectant heir, dreading a disclosure of his embarras.sments, which would expose him to the cer- tainty of anger, to the chance of disinheritance ; the sinking trades- ihaij, who feels his credit giving way beneath him, and sees the entire loss of his fortune and good name pressing hard and close upon him ; the man of sensitive honour, whose difliculties have forced him within sight of a gaol, to him the certain grave of peace and hope, when such men, in such circumstances, have to meet the money-lender, speculating on their dirticulties and their prospects, who doubts the intensity of their agitation, the dread, the despair of heart, the utter helplessness, the unnatural abjectness of spirit, which makes them an easy prey? It was the cruel abuse of such power and such distress that first made usurers and usury odious, and suggested restraining laws to moderate the evil."
Our feelings, we confess, are somewhat dull, but we can imagine that he who goes to a money-lender without having any security to offer must feel rather awkward. We allow that the number of money-lenders who receive such customers is small, ^nd there- fore the market is circumscribed ; that debtors may be the slave of a necessity; but what creates that necessity P their own impru- dence or their misfortune. Now, we think a money-lender con- vinced by his speculations on their difficulties and their prospects, that there were many chances against his receiving his money again, would justly ask more than the usual rate of interest. But the law reasons with him, " this sinking tradesman, a man of sensitive honour, who feels his credit giving way beneath him, and sees the entire loss of his fortune and good name pressing hard and close upon him, is in want of a loan. It is true he may never repay you, but be content if you get the same interest you do where your principal is 3afe."
2b2
352 Repeal of the Usury Laws.
We know that a man who wishes to hire a house has not the same diificulties to struggle with, which he who wants money experiences. But whence is this difference ? The house-owner is in general less scrupulous as to the responsibility of his tenant ; he does not seek any security. The money-lender, before he parts with his property, requires some substantial pledge to ensure its return. Hence, then, when the pledge is insufficient, he refuses to lend because he could receive the same profit with a good security. Is he to be blamed because he uses caution and circumspection with respect to the circumstances of his borrower? Is that law just which would render his caution useless, and says, " however defective the security may be, you must not take a higher rate of interest than the safest investment will afford ?" If the house-owner, before he let his property, exercised the same vigilance, and required an equal security,' our author would have to lament in his most pathetic strain the wretchedness of the houseless, and '• the Refuge for the Destitute" would be besieged by applicants.
It is admitted in the pamphlet before us, that if the extension of the market rate of interest in the metropolis were universal, or nearly universal, it would make any interference on the part of the state in restraining usurious practices wholly unnecessary.- (p. 36.) But, says the author, " it never becomes by its own power of spreading itself, universal or nearly universal." The above admission is at once surprising and important ; for we think we can satisfactorily show that the rate of interest which obtains in the metropolis, does regulate the rate of interest in the provinces. It is notorious that the state of the money market in London, can be known in the most remote town in England in less than three days : but can the borrower profit by such knowledge ? Is there sufficient competition in the country ? It is unnecessary to observe, that in the large manufacturing and trading towns, such as Glasgow, Liverpool, Manchester, Hull, and Newcastle-upon-Tyne, there is no pretence to say that any extortion can take place for want of competition. The argument then only applies to small towns. Now, it is certain that in every toAvn of any importance there are two banks, or there are resident agents of neighbouring banks. Between such establish- ments there is generally a rivalry : but supposing that they combined, and refused to discount at less than five per cent., when the bankers in a neighbouring large town discounted at four or four and a half Woukl not some of the latter be induced to send an agent to gain a connection by discounting at the market rate? For bankers in the country have a peculiar interest in discounting as largely as they can, for by so doing they extend
Repeal of the Usury Lav)s. 368
the issue of their own notes. In the provinces there is no lack of bankers, and of monied men dispose<l to become bankers. It is an easy and advantageous way of employing capital, and confers upon the proprietors both influence and respectability. Such is the answer which a general consideration of the circum- stances of the case would afford. But we are not compelled to rest upon speculation, however probable ; — ^we can adduce facts. During the last five or six years the London bankers and bill- l)rokers have discounted generally at and under four per cent. Have, then, the bankers in the country taken advantage of the law and charged five .'' It is j)erfectly notorious they have not. We are quite ready to admit that the competition is more j effective and complete in London than it can be in the country, and that instances may be adduced in which bills have been discounted in London at a lower rate than they could have been in the country. We indeed know one instance in which a bill for 70,000/., drawn upon the East India Company, was dis- counted by a banking house in Ix)ndon at two and a half per cent, : but it is clear that such cases prove nothing. The bills of small manufacturers and tradesmen, which numerous class it is {)articularly insisted would be injured by the repeal, are discounted at as low a rate in the country as they are in I^ndon. As to transactions of greater importance, as loans by way of mortgage, it would be idle to suppose that any imposition could be practised upon borrowers in the country. The security of land is always preferred when the market rate of interest can be obtained ; which would be the case were the Usury Laws repealed. It is
. the interest of money-lenders, like other dealers, to discover
^ where there is a want: and although there may be some trifling i ' inequahties, yet in a country where the circulation of capital is
*^ free, and intelligence may be obtained with the greatest facility, th8se inequalities cannot be great. The price of com on the same day at different towns in the same county, sometimes varies to the amount of four shillings per quarter, but he who should
'propose an enactment to restrict corn-sellers to a certain price 'would be deemed either a madman or a fool. ' ^One bf the greatest evils which it is predicted would follow
' fr6tii thfe repeal of the Usury Laws is, that it would throw the capital of the country into the hands of rash speculators, — mere
' adventurers ; and this is not only dwelt upon by the author of
' the pamphlet, but has been produced and reproduced in a variety
of forms in the debates in parliament. Our author thinks this
consequence would follow, simply from such men having it in
their power to offer as high a rate of interest as they pleased.
We might, we are sure^ content ourselves by replying, that the
.rU'i Y ;.,!^ v'lnub c. yd ■«':
354 Repeal of the Usury Laws.
owners of money are the best judges how that money should be disposed of; that the interest of the individual is the interest of the whole community ; that it is palpably absurd to attempt to direct a whole nation, by one single laAV, how to manage their private affairs. The men, be it obser\'ed, into whose hands it is predicted the whole capital of the country would flow, are speculators and adventurers, men without property, or character, for they are rash and adventurous. If they indeed by the repeal could get possession of the confidence and property of the money- lenders, the Usury Laws are not so much a protection to the borrowers as the lenders ; for the argument imputes to them no small portion of imbecility. The pamphlet before us sets forth the business of a speculator in terms so inviting that we are afraid, were the Usury LaAvs repealed, there would be many competitors for the favours of the monied men. We quote the passage for it is somewhat amusing : —
" The business of a speculator in home produce, ceases to be laborious ; every step of the great progress made in the division of mercantile labour has eased him of some part of his old task. Whether he wishes to try a foreign venture, or to speculate on the constant fluctuations of the home market, no exertion is required of him ; agents and means are at hand ; a line to his broker effects his purchase, and deposits it safely in some place prepared for its recep- tion ; another order, shovdd he be a seller and not a holder, sets it afloat ; and in either case he has only to wait for the profit or loss of the transaction, which a similar quantity of trouble will arrange for him.
" While these circumstances predispose the country to adventurous speculation, that predisposition is acted upon with irresistible force, by the introduction of a credit as a universal instrument, in the transactions both of dealers and producers."
We think our readers will now agree with us that it may safely be left to the interest of each individual wdiether credit shall be given or whether it shall be withholden. We are far from denying that there are many persons ready to advance money in what are generally called rash speculations and schemes ; but we are certain that the evil which results from the failure of some of these, is far more than counterbalanced by the good which arises from the success of some. And who is so Avell iqualified to determine Avhether a scheme is visionary, or prac- ticable, as he who can consider all the circumstances, and whose fortune is to be hazarded in the experiment ? Many of us can remember when the present mail coaches Avere substituted for one-horse carts, or boys on horseback. The scheme was de- nounced by many as visionary, and quite unworthy of the great
Repeal of the Usury Laws. 355
minister who patronised it* and it is a curious fact, that the greatest difficulty the proposer of the plan experienced in carrying it into execution arose from the refusal of the respect- able and well-established innkeepers on the different roads to cooperate and supply horses. They knew it would never answer ; — it might look very well upon paper, but it would never do in practice ; — the horses would be unmanageable, run away with the coach, and it would be overturned, and lives would be lost, and so the scheme would be abandoned. The men who did carry the plan into effect were the second-rate innkeepers, men of but little property or character, — rash and speculating men, — as they were called. Let us not be deceived by mere words ; every comfort or convenience we enjoy ; every art or manufacture which has raised this country to its proud rank in the scale of nations, was originally an untried scheme, — a mere speculation.
But there is one class of the community to whom, it is said, the repeal of the Usury Laws would be eminently prejudicial ; — we refer to tradesmen and small manufacturers. This objection to the repeal was stated by Mr. Rothschild in his evidence before the committee of the House of Commons in 1818, and is relied upon in (he pamphlet before us. As it is one of great importance we will state it in Mr Rothschild's own words : —
*' I think the operation of the Usury Laws, as bearing- upon the value of money in England, of great importance to tradesmen. In this country it is different to those on the continent : a bill drawn upon such persons, is seldom, if ever seen, while in this country they abound ; and are doubtless a great and necessary accommodation to that part of the community. Small manufacturers likewise derive many advantages from this kind of assistance, as many of them have friends, or a confidential person in town, on whom they draw at short dates, against their goods sent to the London market ; these bills become negotiable at the legal rate of five per cent, discount, which enables such persons to carry on their concern, not only with more facility and advantage but to a much greater extent. It is impossible for me to say positively what would be the consequence to these, and many others of a similar description, were the Usury Laws repealed ; but I believe great advantages would, in many cases, be taken of the necessities of such persons, by the lender demanding, probably two or three times the rate of interest from them on their security, as would be required in discounting the bills of first and second rate houses ; therefore, it appears to me that the less opulent should be protected in some way from being exposed to so great a reduction in their profits, through the necessity of turning their capital, by immediately discounting their drafts at an extravagant rate, those
356 Repeal of the Usury Laws.^x
persons not having hitherto had much difficulty in discounting their bills at the legal rate of five per cent, discount."
Although Mr. Rothschild could not say positively what would be the consequence the writer of the pamphlet can ; he observes: —
" The tradesmen and manufacturers Mr. Rothschild here speaks of, form an important part of the body to which they belong ; and to carry on their business now systematically by such means, they must evidently be cautious and punctual persons. "' " • '
" But persons of another description would eagerly adopt 'Stich' means of extending their operations were they able, and the repeal of the Usury Laws would bring a host of competitors into the discount market, who possessing neither caution nor punctuality, might very successfully oppose those who did by making higher offers. The soberer tradesman, if he refused to bid against them, must yield his business into their hands ; if he did bid against them, his habits of cautious dealing must be abandoned with his new circumstances ; he must dash at a profit commensurate with the high interest. In either case an enterprising and gambling speculatoj^ is substituted for a steady dealer;'* '«'"'*" ^uo^v*'} i.t /L^!bm ilu . .^i^i icr>,
Let us now state a case that we may see clearly the circum- stances under which such bills are discounted. ^. a small manufacturer in Manchester sends goods to JB. a merchant in London to dispose of. ^. draAvs upon B. for the amount and takes the bill unaccepted to his {A.^s) bankers in Manchester who discount it. Now it is clear that such a bill is discounted solely upon the credit of A. He is known to his bankers as a steady and punctual man, and therefore he is trusted. Is it, then, credible, that any bankers Avould for the sake of an advance of one or two per cent, prefer the bills of a gambling speculator- to a steady dealer ? Is it credible that they would lend their i money upon no security whatsoever ? But we need not rest ; upon general principles. The experience of the last four or five years, during Avhich the market rate of interest has been under i the legal rate, has completely refuted the prediction of Mr. Rothschild, and the reasoning of his commentator. In the first , place, then, in answer to Mr. Rothschild, it is an undoubted fact > that the bills of small manufacturers have been discounted by the bankers at the same rate as those of the first and second rate houses : and in answer to his commentator, it is equally certain that bankers discount all bills at the same rate ; therefore speculators by their tempting offers can gain no advantage over the steady dealer. If biiinkers doubt whether the parties to a bill are good men, they do not say, " Our ordinary rate of dis-
• i;:j <«Miw y»iij iiiiii*-. i*iJfai* biU
Repeal of the Usury Laws. 357
count is four per cent., but we will discount this bill at five," but they say, " we will not discount this bill at all." Such, we unhesitatingly state, is the practice of the regular money market. There is indeed, we know, a class of persons who trade in lending money, at a high rate of interest, to those who do not possess credit in the regular market. That fraud and extortion frequently exist in such transactions we firmly believe. But how does it appear that the conduct and terms of such lenders are improved by the Usury Laws ? Nay, is it not apparent, that the risk of incurring the heavy penalties of the law increases those terms ? that the law by rendering such transactions illegal throws thera entirely into the hands of men who can bear the reproach of being called usurers, and who willingly profit by violating the laws of their country ? ' * ^;> " ' *•
Here we may cfrtivertiGtrtiy examine the argument advanced in the pamphlet before us and elsewhere, that indigent persona need protection in their money transactions. Now we are sure that the Usury Laws do not afford such protection, but on the contrary that indigent persons would be benefited by their repeal. Remove the penalties and you remove the risk ; and by removing the odium and risk arising from infringing the law, respectable persons, it is asserted, will be induced to become lenders to the poor: and thus they will be protected from extortion and fraud. As to this latter consequence, however, we confess, we are , inclined to doubt. The borrowers, be it observed, are, by the •assumption, indigent persons ; — persons who do not possess credit in the regular money market. Such persons in order to obtain a loan to relieve their pressing necessities, are oftentimes induced to engage to pay a higher rate of interest than they can make by the use of it. Consequently the interest is soon in arrear ; and the creditor, that he may recover back part of his principal, is compelled to seize upon the little property his debtor may possess. Although, tnen, the Usvry Laws were repealed we believe few respectable monied men would become lenders to the indigent ; the number of such lenders would probably be increased, but still they would be of that class who, if they can but recover their principal, scruple not to reduce the debtor to utter ruin. The high rate of interest, which the»H indigent are compelled to pay, must not, however, be looked, t upon entirely as extortion : the poor purchase other articles aa,^ well as money at a higher rate than the rich. The labourer who buys his tea by ounces pays fifteen per cent, more than hei who buys a chest. And, we fear, as long as human nature, j remains as it is, the poor will always be more subject to extor- tion and fraud than they who can protect themselves. The
358 Repeal of the Usury Laws.
unprincipled tradesman, trusting in the poverty and helplessness of his customers, will mix salt with his sugar, and substitute beans for coffee. But who would advise that a specific law should be levelled against each particular fraud ? Fraud in money transactions is punishable, without the aid of the Usury Laws, by the common law of the land. Upon the whole, then, it is clear that the Usury Laws do not benefit the indigent, but by increasing the risk of the lender, increase his charge.
The same evils which flowed from the bank restriction act would, it is argued by our author, flow from the repeal of the Usury Laws. To us there appears no analogy between the cases. The bank restriction act created a fictitious capital which stimulated the productive powers of the country far beyond the natural demand. But could the repeal create capital ? Yes, says our author, " the repeal of the Usury Laws would probably cause the issue of a greater quantity of accepted bills, and other kinds of circulating paper which would be used in direct payments for goods." (p. 101.) Now, we think, the issue of unpaid private paper depends upon, and is regulated by, the amount of cash in the market applicable to the discount- ing of bills. The above assertion then amounts to this ; — the repeal would increase the amount of capital employed in trade : which we apprehend could not take place, to any extent, unless there were an increased demand for manufactures, or unless there were a portion of capital in the country unproductive.
We may now proceed to calculate those evils which it is said would result to the land-owners were the Usury Laws repealed. The arguments of many seem to be founded on the assump- tion that could the lender ask what interest he pleased, that the borrower must pay it; indeed, it is confidently asserted that the repeal will place the landed debtor in the power of the monied creditor, But as to this it has been well observed, *■' that those who advance this assertion give no account of its modus operandi; they let it rest on mere assertion, and, in point of fact, it amounts to nothing more than a speculative con- jecture, founded upon no sound principle, and supported by no facts whatsoever." This assertion evidently implies that the land-owner might be compelled to pay more than the market rate were the repeal to take place. Now, it is a fact too well known to require the support of any authority, that real security has always the preference in the money market ; hence, then, it follows that a loan upon it can always be obtained at the market rate. But what does the experience of the last few years tell us ? Have the land-owners continued to pay five per cent, when the commercial interest has easily borrowed at four ?
Repeal of the Usury Laws. 369
But Mr. Attwood, the member for Callington, in his speech ia 1824, in Avhich he powerfully and most successfully exposed the injustice done to the money holder by restraining the free application of his property, argued that during the late war when interest was above five, the land-owners were benefited, because the majority of those who lent money not choosing to incur the odium of taking usury submitted to lend at five. But this benefit was certainly very partial ; for we know from the evidence of many, and particularly of one well qualified to speak to the fact, that during that period *' the difficulty of obtaining money on mortgage was so great that few transactions of that sort were negotiated in the metropolis by way of loan. Most or all of the mortgages which were prepared, were securities for debts previously contracted, and not securities for money actually lent, or were securities given to persons who assisted their friends in want of money, as acts of friendship."* Mr. Preston might have added a few trust funds were lent upon mortgage at five per cent., because the trustees were compelled to invest them on real security. The benefit, then, thus derived by the land- owners from the Usury Laws was very circumscribed, and was far outweighed by the inconvenience which they, as a body, suffered from not being able to borrow money, by way of mortgage at all. For land-owners must have money to supply their necessities ; and how were they to be supplied when the market rate of interest was above the legal rate ? The law said, you shall not borrow by way of mortgage for six or seven per cent., but you shall borrow by way of annuity at ten. And did not this actually take place ? *' In several instances persons of the greatest respectability and prudence, with immense clear rentals, seized in fee simple, with unexceptionable titles, were, from the scarcity of money, necessitated to borrow, and actually did borrow money at the rate often per cent, by way of annuity, upon three lives, or for years determinable on the death of the survivor of three persons ; but the number of those persons was not so great as to justify me to say, that the mode became a general system." f We can easily believe that those only who were necessitated would borrow at such a rate, but we are sure, that many land-owners might have expended a loan most beneficially, in the improvement of their estates, could it have
* Minutes of Evidence before the Committee of the House of Commons on the Usury Laws, p. 38.
f Minutes of Evidence, p. 38, (Mr. Preston.) and see the Evidence of the Solicitor to the Sun Fire Office, and of the Secretary to the Albioa ]Jif« I^siirance Company to the same effect, pp. 17 and 20. ,-),,ii?i. ■:
36u Repeal of the Usury Lawi.
been procured at the market rate ; thus, they were injured by the Usury Laws, and through them the country at large.
The frauds, which have occurred in annuity transactions, have come too often before the public to render any proof of their existence necessary. It has been argued,* repeal the Usury Laws and you remove the ground and occasion of such frauds. This, however, we doubt. It is certain, indeed, that there would be but few annuities ; but whether the transactions, in which fraud has been detected, had been by way of mortgage instead of annuity, we think of little consequence. Indigent persons, with defective and dejBcient securities, may, by the promise of high interest, tempt some to lend, but we have already given our reasons why Ave think respectable monied men will not engage in such transactions. Indigent persons might by the repeal obtain their loans at a lower rate, but they must still remain subject to those who scruple not to exercise over their debtors the utmost power the law allows. In proof of this we refer to the fact that so long as respectable persons with sufficient security could obtain money upon mortgage, " there was on the part of the bankers and other capitalists not merely an apprehension, but almost a horror of any annuity transac- tion ;"f but when money was not to be obtained upon mort- gage by those whose characters and securities Avere unimpeach- able, then " very large advances on annuity were soon made from the funds of insurance companies, and from other respect- able quarters.":]; This shoAvs incontestably that it is the circum- stances of the borrower, and not the mode by Avhich the loan is secured, that determines the character of the lender.
The existence of the annuity laAVs affords an instructive lesson to legislators. While they remain in force " there is in effect a complete mode of evading the laws against usury." § Thus they demonstrate that laAvs Avhich are contrary to the existing state of society will be evaded ; — ^will be repealed, if not in words, yet in fact. . ii. i
Let us now consider the effect the repeal would have otl tlie loans to government. " Repeal the present laAV," says the pamphlet before us, " for the express purpose of making loans more universally accessible, and you of course increase the demand for them; Avhatever increases that demand,, ^](^f^)i a
' rr^'^ -I"'' "' • ' "1 Ii — ir:U\^ III, at, ii,<.- Jut ani/i — .'jDjIditu
ilnji:)^ f.li, ■,>...„ '■*<</.' .:. MJ,,,.j, .„J jot, /.llJOrt Ji ^i,oi>^,i^ 9ift
♦ Minutes of Evidence, p. 11, (Mr. Sugden^ijulwi'i ^ili soaiioua «i «!
f Minutes of Evidence, p. 21.
J Ibid.
§ Minutes of Evideuce, p. 37, (Mr. Pre»ton.)
Repeal of the Usury Laws.
tendency to raise the rate of interest, and to make the govern- ment pay dearer for its own large supply."* We might observe that the repeal will not of course increase the demand ; for the demand for loans depends upon the use which can be made of them, and not upon the existence or non-existence of the Usury Laws. But supposing that the repeal did make the government pay dearer ? For an answer we will make an extract from the speech of Mr, Attwood, before alluded to, and for its length we need make no apology.
i, > " An argument which had been resorted to by those who defended the law as it now stood, was, that it enabled the government to horrow nt a cheap rate, by making government the only party who could legally pay more than five percent, interest, thus giving it a monopoly, .as it were, of the usurious market. They had been desired to calculate how much the national debt would have amounted to except for this loan. That debt, they were told, must have been increased, by all the additional interest which the government would have been com- pelled to pay. But the answer was, if the government are in want of money, let them go into the market, and pay the proper value for money precisely as they are compelled to do, when in want of cloth, provisions, or any of the materials of war. Let those who contend, that when the government should want money, it would be fit, on that account, to make a law or to continue one, having for its object to force down the value of money, in order that the government might get supplied at a cheap rate ; let those gentlemen proceed somewhat further, and propose that when government should have occasion to make a contract for cloth, a law should first be passed, rendering it penal for any man to sell cloth, for more than a certain price by the yard. That mode of proceeding would open abundant resources for keeping down a government debt within moderate limits, ' and it would be a mode of proceeding not to be distinguished from the one recommended either in policy or principle. They had been ; told of the wisdom of their ancestors, and that the tfsury Laws i were to be approached with veneration, for they had existed from a remote antiquity. Now, their ancestors, whether wiser than their ,,^^c^ndants or not, were at least more consistent. They did not , eonfipe themselves to statutes for keeping down the price of money. They had abundance of statutes for restraining the prices of com- modities, as well as of money. Those old statutes, in ])articular, of purveyance and pre-emption, tliose monuments of the wisdom of their ancestors, were founded precisely on that principle so much applauded, of keeping down the expense of the crown at the expense of the subject. And, let any man show, if he could, why, in this view of the question, it would not be quite as wise to revive these old statutes as to continue the statutes against usury. Indeed the statutes of
'■>Hii ; • PBg^e 141. '.(i^vabi' j^j/^ i
362 Repeal of the Usury Laws.
purveyance and pre-emption, had, in some respects, an advantage over the Usury Laws. They inflicted no more of loss on the subject, than they gave of advantage to the crown ; they reduced the price of no more than that portion of commodities which was purchased by the crown ; whilst the Usury Laws, to effect that the crown might borrow what money it wanted cheaply, went to reduce the price, not of that portion of money only, but of all the money which every lende? in the kingdom had to dispose of."
We, however, doubt much that government has derived any benefit from the existence of the Usury Laws. On the stock exchange, those laws are completely evaded by practices, of which they are the cause ; so that whoever carries his money thither may get the market rate : which rate is independent of and un-affected by the Usury Laws. Government, then, un- shackled by any law, contracts in a free market. The rate of interest upon its contracts during the late war sometimes amounted to nine per cent. ;* and the rate of interest upon loans secured upon fee simple estates by way of annuity was eight, together with one per cent, for insurance, and one per cent, to ensure the return of the property tax ; therefore the government does not seem to have derived much benefit from the supposed monopoly.
In the preceding part of this article we have endeavoured to obviate the principal objections which are urged against the repeal of the Usury Laws, and we trust with success. Without detailing the advantages which would result from the repeal, we might content ourselves with observing, that those laws, to the repeal of which there is no valid objection, if they operate at all, must operate injuriously. No law which has any operation can at the same time do no good and no harm. The operation of the Usury Laws has indeed been much curtailed by the numerous evasions which the wants of the community have from time to time dictated. It is notorious that on the stock exchange they are completely evaded ; it is evident that the; land-owners can evade them by the annuity system : it is, then, only from their evil effect upon, comparatively speaking, minor interests, and from the inconveniences which arise from the mode in which the evasions are practised, that the advantages to be derived from their repeal can be estimated.
Many of such advantages are so perspicuously detailed in the evidence of Mr. Hollandf before the committee of the House
• Minutes of Evidence, p. 7, (Mr. Ricardo.)
t A partner ia the house of Messrs. Baring:, Brothers, and Co<
Repeal of the Usury Laws. 363
of Commons, that we are sure those who have not already seen it will thank us for the extract :•—
" Ciistom has fixed a certain rate of interest in different countries, varying according to the time and period of the laws being esta- blished ;* money is like any other commodity ; if the supply is abundant, and the means of employing it difficult, the rate of interest will be lower than the customary rate ; if, on the other hand, money or capital has full means of employment, the commodity becomes scarce, and is worth more to the proprietors than the customary interest ; but in a country where capital is abundant in ordinary times, the rate of interest will be below the customary rate ; and in such countries, it is only in war, and while some extraordinary financial operations are pending, that the rate rises above the cus- tomary price.
" A borrower of money has fi-equent opportunities of gaining ten and twelve per cent., which opportunities are not known to the lender, so that a man can afford to pay six per cent, (or any given rate) for money more than the legal interest, and still derive a profit from the money he has borrowed ; this is advantageous to all parties, in a commercial country like England : as for instance, the English banker lends to the English merchant at five per cent. ; the English merchant lends to the foreign merchant at eight per cent. ; and the foreign merchant, in his own country, where capital is much de- manded, finds he can obtain ten or twelve per cent, for the use of the money. Each of these parties obtains a profit on the capital circUf lated ; this nation is benefited by the circulation, and gains that which its subjects receive, in a political point of view; and the foreigner is benefited by borrowing capital to employ in his own country, where it is wanted, at eight per cent., where it is worth to him twelve percent. The capital is not lost to this country because the English merchant will not lend his money for a longer period than he finds it convenient to himself to do, and it returns to him when he requires it. But as the English law stands at present, no contract can be made in England to lend money to either native or foreigner at above five per cent. ; of course the English law is opposed to general circulation, and the distribution of capital, and prevents British subjects from adding to the capital of the i;ountry by the justifiable gain which they might obtain in the employment of their capital."
We may add there is one class of the trading community upon which the Usury Laws operate with peculiar hardship : we mean men who begin the world with little or no capital, whose suc- cess depends entirely upon their personal exertions. To such men a loan is often of the greatest importance. They could afford
* It is evident Mr. UoUaad means to refer to the legal rate ia contradistinction tQ tb« laarket rate. ''-^
364 Repeal of the Usury Laws.
to give more than the market rate of interest, and the capitahst, relying upon their integrity and prudence, might be induced to lend if he could be compensated for the risk by an advance of interest : but the law says imperatively, — all men must borrow at the same rate. The national loss from the exertions of active- minded and industrious men being cramped by the want of capital cannot be estimated ; for upon the energies of such men mainly depend the greatness and prosperity of the country. Few, very few, who are born with the prospect of enjoying a com- fortable sufficiency, will emulate the industry of those who are doomed to be the artificers of their own fortunes.
An adherence to a fixed rate of interest, is a thing so palpably absurd that it is surprising any can be found to advocate it. The wants of mankind may ebb and flow ; profits may vary from one extreme to another ; but the value of money, which depends upon the urgency of those wants and the extent of those profits, is to remain the same ! The defenders of this system urge the antiquity of the lav/, and the wisdom of our ancestors. Without pretending to impugn that wisdom, we may observe, that this argument is seldom deserving of attention ; for such are the variations in human affairs, — and all laws are intended for existing circum- stances,— that we can never be certain that our ancestors would have thought that law, which they recommended in their own day, fit for the age in which we live. But in the present case, the argument is most unhappily chosen ; for when the statute which assigns five per cent, as the limit of legal interest, was passed, the market rate was about four, and the legal rate was fixed at five on the very ground that the legal rate should be above the market rate. To have been consistent, then, these sticklers for the wisdom of our ancestors should, when the market rate of interest reached five per cent, during the late war, have endeavoured to have had the legal rate raised to six. But no. — It has been discovered, by a process of reasoning far beyond our powers to develope, that five per cent, is the natural inter- est of money ; — that this mystical limit is the mainspring of our national prosperity ; — and Mr. Preston sees in it a standard of value regulating the price of land, and every other commodity. Hence, the predictions are not few, nor lightly uttered, that should the rashness of the present, or any future age, tear from our statute book a law so operative and so beneficial, all the political and commercial interests of the state will be con- founded in one dire convulsion.
To conclude. Absurd as the Usury Laws are in principle ; useless or pernicious as they are in practice ; we should, however, hesitate before we recommended that they should be torn at
Boaden^s Life of Kemble. ot8
once, root and branch, from the statute book, such a measure would offend the honest prejudices of multitudes, and might cause some temporary derangement in the money market. We would indeed advise that they should be repealed by one law, but that law progressive in its operation. The legal rate might now be raised to six per cent, and continue at that rate for two years : for the third year seven might be the legal rate ; and after that period the laws might be wholly repealled. It might be beneficial that this progression should be slower, and the period extended. We merely wish to state, that a law upon this princi- ple seems to us the most expedient mode of getting rid of a system, which, however erroneous and prejudicial, has, from it& long continuance, almost become part and parcel of our consti- tution, and is considered by many as the only sure protection against the most grievous oppression and fraud in money ttaidEj^
t V u
actions.
Art. VI. — Memoirs of the Life of John Philip Kemhle, Esq. By James Boaden,* Esq. 2 vols. 8vo.
Wk sincerely trust that the long list of noble and wealthy names annexed to the proposed subscription for erecting a monument to the late Mr. Kemble, will not after all be recorded as a dead letter; and that some personage of sulficient rank and influence will, at the end of the long interval which has elapsed, step for- ward to expedite what was so well begun. It would be a pity that the bitter old proverb, " Qui of sight, out of mind," should in this instance be verified to the reproach of the many whoi admired him as an actor, a critic, and a scholar, and esteemed him as a man ; who vied with one another in the tribute of those public honours which accompanied his retirement from the stage, and who saw with regret his departure to lay his bones in a foreign land : — that not even a bust should commemorate the noble features of a person whose name will be sufficiently con- spicuous in the more familiar history of the times ; whose genius and research gave rise to a new era in dramatic improve- ments ; and whom it will hereafter be our boast to have seen in a peculiar range of characters in which he will probably remaim unapproaphable. Lest, however, such things should be within thef list of possibilities, let us examine how far and how well private friendship has done its part in commemorating one whom we shall always associate with the perfect idea of the "noble Roman," and whose "pietas et prisca fides," as well as his real dignity of character, well warranted the assimilation. VOL. I. 2 c
366 Boaden's Life of Kemhle.
From all that has come to our knowledge, as well as from the internal evidence contained in Mr. Boaden's book, to which no rival has yet appeared, we are inclined to think it an authentic document, written by a man, master of his subject, and possess- ing much collateral information calculated to throw an interest and a light upon it. To begin with the conclusion, the following passage appears to us to give a just idea of Mr. Boaden's design, and the manner in which he has executed it : —
" Enough in these volumes has been detailed, to afford the reader a correct idea of the actor and the man. I have shown him, as he would wish professionally to be seen, by the side of kindred merit ; and, in private life, as his character appeared to one, who really loved him. I have thus endeavoured toTepay some of the benefits, which I derived from his friendship ; and vanity may hope to have extended the fame of a man of genuine worth, an actor of first-rate excellence. What is beyond this object, I consider, as filHng up a group of which HE is the principal figure — as combining an action in which his in- terest was progressive and important."— p. 586, vol. ii.
Mr. Boaden accordingly commences his narrative from the period of Garrick's death, and Sheridan's established success as a dramatist. About the time of the retirement of the former, Kemble made his first appearance at Wolverhampton, in the character of Theodosius. His father, Mr. Roger Kemble, ma- nager of a north-western company, and his mother, whose sterling character and austere manners are painted to the life, had intended him for a learned profession ; but the performance of a juvenile character some years before, and the force of example, deter- mined him to embrace the stage. His time, however, seems to have been profitably spent at the Roman Catholic seminary, at Sedgely Park, and subsequently at Douay, in the cultivation of those studies which reflected a dignity both on himself and his chosen calling, and which at a later period of life embraced a wide circle of ancient and modern languages, as well as subjects of an abstruser nature.
Great credit is due to Mr. Boaden, for the skill and humour with which he exposes the silly reports circulated concerning the two years of Kemble's life, which preceded his engagement with Tate Wilkinson's York company in 1778; and which seem to have been spent respectably and studiously. A year aftersvards, his spirited conduct in vindicating the dignity of his profession under the persecution of certain country critics, brought him into favourable notice.
The anecdote, which is most characteristic of the high gen- tlemanly spirit of the man, is related in pp. 25 to 30, vol. i.
During the three years of Mr. Ken^.ble's engagement with the
Boaden's Life of Kemhle. 367
York company, his career appears to have been a varied one as author, oratorical lecturer, and actor. In the latter capacity, it should seem, he did not at that time meet with any brilliant success ; while, however, his character and general attainments procured him the respect of his associates. In 1781, he formed an engagement with Daly, the manager of the Dublin theatre ; and during a subsequent professional visit to Cork, an instance of his conduct and firmness occurred, of the same nature with that already alluded to. The story, which relates to Mrs. Crouch, then Miss Phillips, is mentioned in pp. 47, 48, vol. i.
In 1783, Mr. Kemble made his first appearance on the Drury- lane boards in the character of Hamlet, his way being paved by the brilliant success of his sister, Mrs. Siddons, then entering on her zenith.
His own merits, however, were sufficient to stamp him as a leading actor in public estimation, and his success seems to have been decided from the first : but his choice of characters was for some time few, the ground being pre-occupied by actors of more established reputation, and the etiquette of the theatre forbidding a transfer of their parts. At no time, indeed, does the corps dra- mat'iquc appear to have been stronger in every branch ; or the theatrical profession to have more steadily flourished. The gratifying patronage which it enjoyed at this period, is described con amore in the following passage : —
"Theatres, too, were, profitable concerns, and interested nearly
alike all the ranks of society. Men of the highest powers enjoyed
and took pride in the drama of their country. Tlie pit displayed its
prescriptive rows of critics, at the head of whom sat Charles Macklin;
while the boxes firequently exhibited, alon^ with the beauty of higher
life, the glory of our senate, Pitt, Fox, Burke, Lord Loughborough,
and a long train of imitators ; and it became an article of attractioa
in our newspapers, to state, the following day, the names of those
vvho the preceding night had honoured the theatre with their presence.
Vt the same time, the high rank of the frequenters begat a demand
"or a very carefid dress, and polite and accommodating manners, in
;uch as approached them. We had then no such horrors as bears in
heir own skins, with a dozen capes, like coachmen, standing up in
he side boxes with their hats on, insensible of the demands of respect
owards the gentler sex; and ready, and even anxious, to crown their
'i Molence, by a boxing match in the lobby." — pp. 216-7, vol. i.
In these days, too, that vile piece of profligacy, the "Marriage < f Figaro," (which we believe has in some shape or other become i nee a stock play,) died a natural death after six nights' perform- t lice. The efforts of Holcroft, one of the heaviest and sourest ( r radicals, to rescue his adopted bantling from perdition, by
2c2
368 Boaden's Life ofKemble.
performing himself the lively part of Figaro, must have been
^ToltattJ^riod of Kemble's debnt at Dmry-lane, Hoi-
'' man, Pope, and Mrs. Jordan made their first ^PPf^^"^^^. . ^^^^
success of the latter was as immediate as that of Mrs. Siddo^s
in a different line. In 1785, the stage was deprived of one ot its
brightest ornaments in Henderson, an estimable man, and an
actor of the most versatile genius, on whom alone the peculiar
m n tie of Garrick seems t^ have fallen. The critique on his
performances is done in a masterly style, and is valuable in ad-
: dition to those documents which we already possess of his pro-
4 found skill and feeling.
In 1788, Kemble married Mrs. Brereton, widow of the actor of that name, and deservedly esteemed for her conduct un^r painful circumstances, into which it would be irrelevant to enter. ^ in the same year, the actor so justly styled "Gentleman Smith,- retired from the stage after thirty-five campaigns, leav- ing the tragic field open to his more youthful competitor. In tragedy, Smith appears to have been not more than useful and respecLle, his fbrte lying in the higher characters of genteel comedy : —
"Althou-h I have already given my opinion generally of his talents a few parting words 'upon this occasion, while they acknow- lete Ihe adsfaction he so frequently gave to me -ay perfect the notfon I wish to leave of his distinct excellence He was then. cer. lainly, the most manly performer of my time. He gave the complet- est idea of a warm, generous, and courageous character, and this not assumed, but inherent; reflected from the actor upon the part, rather th^^mposed by the part upon the actor. In the comedies of Con- Seve, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh, there has been nothing since his Ime endurable. Manly gaiety and frivolity are of d^A^f- ^^^r ' the substitutes of whatever age have looked, I confess childish after Smit^ The Charles of the ' School for Scandal' died with him."- pp. 387-8, vol. i.
His parting address, partaking as it does of the sincere and inanlY character natural to the man, we like rather better than Mr. Boaden seems inclined to do. On such occasions, a few words to the purpose are best.
In 1789 Kemble, who had now attained the distmguished theatrical rank which his sister had held for seven years previous, accepted the management of Drury-lane Theatre. This office had been abandoned in disgust by Kmg, on whom aU he la- borious and disagreeable part had been saddled without any authority to sweeten it : the proprietors, however, find ng that a different course must be followed with a man of Kemble s cha- racter, invested him with full powers, which he exercised till the
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f
\
Boaden's Life of Kemhle.
difficulties and embarrassments of the theatre provoked him to throw up his office in 1796 : —
-10<" Influence, in a variety of ways, thwarted him; absurd schemes ' annoyed him ; and, above all, difficulties arising from old debts and the building of a new theatre, really took him more time to remove, though only for the passing day, than all the proper business of his station, twice told. A variety of pleasant billets announced to the treasurer, that ' a leading actor or actress would not go on, without the arrears of salary were paid up.' One of the stage furnishers would not supply an article essential to a coming novelty, on all the pledges of the proprietors, unless Mr. Kemble would pass his word for the payment.' His good nature often led him into such engage- ments ; and, usually, money was found to keep him harmless. At length, I well remember, my friend had the mortification to be arrested on one of these engagements, and his indignation was extreme to be so wickedly disgraced. When the duty he had to discharge was considered, perhaps a seat should have been provided him in a certain assembly, to secure the public appearance of the manager upon all occasions, by the inviolability of his person.* If there was one individual more particularly than another scrupulous as to fair dealing in the world, that one was Mr. Kemble ; but his ways and means were all simple and direct. He was, through life, a child even in the forms of busi- ness ; but, in the literal sense of the terms, a punctual paymaster and strictly honest man. On this occasion the person got his money ; and Mr. Kemble relinquished the management." — pp. 185-6, vol. ii.
His good-humour and accommodating spirit, however, had
not left him. Conceiving it an actor's duty rather to aid the
joint effi)rts of his associates, than to sacrifice the general effect to
!, mdividual display, he was as ready to run the chance of breaking
,, his back in Percy, as he had before been to act Cromwell and
, Griffith in the same play, or strain his voice into a song in Coeur
de Lion, (a circumstance the recollection of which much
T» I diverted him.)
' *' There was one remarkable point of character in Mr. Kemble ; that, out of the management, and where responsibility was upon others, he I was the gentlest of all great actors. ' He would do any thing.' So I that when he was cast into Percy, in the present piece, a sort of Har- lequin hero, who gets into his enemy's castle after his Columbine, Angela ; he had to climb from a sofa to a Gothic window, and, being |, alarmed by his black guards, he has to fall from the height flat again . at his length upon the said sofa, and seem asleep, as they had before
"' • "There is another and a more honourable reason, which was assigned in the V caw of Roscius, and applies equally to Mr, Kemble. * Whom the people of Rome ' know to be a better man, than he Js an actor ; and while he makes the first figure on the stage for his art, is worthy of the senate for his virtue.' "
iUs Ij-h .
£
370 Boaden's Life of Kemhle.
seen him. This he did, as boldly and suddenly, as if he had been shot."— pp. 206-7, vol. ii.
The brilliant success of the " Stranger" and "Pizarro," under the auspices of Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, recruited materially the funds of Drury-lane. That the play of "De Montfort" did not meet with a similar reception, was a great source of mortification to the former, who had bestowed unusual pains on the study of the part, and the getting up of the whole. The drama failed from a want of sufficiently varied interest, and from its passing the com- prehension of the galleries ; but the judicious few will never forget the thrilling effect of Kemble' s acting in the last scenes, or the grace and dignity of Mrs. Siddons, who must have been especially in the eye of the authoress. Mr. Boaden, we find, joins in the common cry against Joanna Baillie, as too metaphy- sical a dramatist. One day, perhaps, her powerful genius will be better appreciated.
In 1802, after a series of little pecuniary annoyances, of which we have already had a specimen, and finding that a title could not be made out to the share in Drury-lane, which he was desirous of purchasing in order to increase his influence, Kemble bought from Lewis a sixth of the Covent-garden property, and transferred his services to that theatre : —
" I am myself convinced, however irreconcilable such a thing might be to his general prudence, that he expected to survive those with whom he should connect himself; and that he really then ambitioned a theatre, to be called exclusively after his name. As a proof of this, afterwards, in his agreement with Mr. Harris, an additional clause was attached to the deed, by which he was, on the death of the chief pro- prietor, to have an option of purchasing the whole at a specific sum, 150,000?.
" The clamour to which I have above alluded started fi'om persons connected with the theatre, who endeavoured to excite odium against the members of a family, which, they said, ' had made their fortunes under the roof of Drary, and now left it to its fate, to carry all their talents and their connections to the rival house.' But I have suffi- ciently shown, that they were very disagreeably situated as to the salaries for which they laboured, and they were large creditors of the concern. JEven patience itself cannot be entirely without limits." — p. 322, vol. ii.
' ■ From the period of this last step may be dated the ill-fortune of Mr. Kemble, and the annoyances which subsequently beset him. As to the Roscius fever, he probably foresaw that it would last not much longer than the delusion of the Fortunate Youth, (a personage who caused almost as much sensation in his day,) has since done : but the burning of Covent-garden in September, 1808, was an event which, while it destroyed the fruits of twenty-
Boaden's Life of Kemhle. 371
five years' prudence, was a deathblow to the honourable ambition which had occupied him during that time ; the ambition of directing a theatrical estabUshment perfect in the minutest point. This disappointment he appears to have dwelt more upon, in the ■conversation detailed by Mr. B., than on his own pecuniary losses.
" ' Yes, it has perished, that magnificent theatre, which for all the purposes of exhibition or comfort was the first in Europe. It is gone, with all its treasures of every description, and some which can never be replaced. That library, which contained all those immortal produc- tions of our countrymen, prepared for the purposes of representation ! That vast collection of music, composed by the greatest geniuses in that science, — by Handel, Arne, and others ; — most of it manuscript, in the original score ! That wardrobe, stored with all the costumes of all ages and nations, accumulated by unwearied research, and at incredible expense ! Scenery, the triumph of the art, unrivalled for its accuracy, and so exquisitely finished, that it might be the ornament of your drawing-rooms, were they only large enough to contain it ! Of all this vast trea^re nothing now remains, but the arms of England over the Entrance of the theatre — and the Roman Eaqle standing solitary in the market place.' " — p. 459, vol. ii.
Few people indeed are awafe of the exactness with which Kemble finished up the minutest details of the moving historical picture which it was his province to embody. From the bonnet of Macbeth, on the form of which Sir Walter Scott was especially consulted, to the Penruddock boots, which were cut out after his own direction on the most obsolete mahogany pattern; from the rosary of Henry the Fourth to the salt dish used at Queen Elizabeth's baptism, nothing escaped his minute eye, and no research was deemed too laborious, which might render the stage a study for the artist and antiquary. We do not mean to justify the expressions of bitter despondency which follow the last quotation. No one, however, who knew the sense of religion with which Kemble (though no very strict Catholic) was habitu- ally impressed, can imagine for a moment that any profaneness was intended by these words, which impartiality required Mr. Boaden to report as a record of his friend's feelings at a striking crisis. They were rather spoken unguardedly, under the influence of strong excitement, by a man who knew the world and the public well, and who asked from it only the common justice which he was not fated to meet with. One would half suppose that he foresaw the O. P. riots and outrages, from which this boasted public could not, and the government would not, protect his property and that of the other owners, and during which every obnoxious measure of his colleagues was charitably imputed to
372 Boaden's Life ofKemhle.
himself. We shall pass over the disturbances in question, as an enigma in the history of jurisprudence. Fifteen years, it will be trusted, have introduced more civilized ideas ; and perhaps in these days the peaceable subject would be protected in claims, w^hich though long ago warranted by the decreasing value of money, were only brought forAvard in consequence of a new expenditure on the most magnificent scale. The reading of the riot act, too, would now perhaps be no longer treated as a mere farce, nor a packed rabble, at the beck of a drunken briefless -vagabond, and a knot of sculking demagogues, allowed to violate private property, and exclude the public from its amusements, while a platoon of soldiers were within call to eject them. If the theati-e be the only arena where every spiteful and cowardly passion is to be let loose Avith impunity, and the seditious are to be alloAved to rehearse for more important occasions, we can only say " they order these things better in France." Let us hope, however, that still greater improvements are in store, even to the exclusion of that standing nuisance the shilling gallery, and its orange-peel and quart-bottle critics.
We well remember the first time of Kemble's appearance in Coriolanus, after the interests of his brother proprietors had imposed on him the office of suing for the " most sweet voices" of the mob : and we are surprised that his demeanour escaped the notice of so minute an observer as Mr. Boaden. Many of the friends of this truly " Roman actor" felt the parallel, and sus- pected that he felt it ; and Ave think we are correct in asserting that from this time it became his favourite part. On the occa- sion in question, his height seemed to dilate into something colossal, and his countenance to express an intensity of scorn which Ave never before Avitnessed ; Avhile his voice, which was usually deficient in poAver, SAvelled into a tone of sustained thunder. The tout ensemble seemed completely to overaAve poor little Simmons and the imaginary *' rats of Rome," AA-hile the audience repaid the performance by reiterated peals of applause, as if fully entering into the parallel. ■' '•• '"^^ '!w;!-K>'|i;if rcj/
We turn Avith satisfaction to the distirlgriisKe'd'pubKfc'hbTiolifs which attended Mr. Kemble on his final retirement from the stage in June, 1817, and w-hich must have repaid him for all past vexa- tions. The munificent presents of his royal and noble patrons, respecting Avhich Mr. Boaden speaks Avith perfect correctness, were, Ave believe, sunk in the re-completion of Covent-garden, the property of w^hich he gave in his lifetime to his brother, the present manager ; but the fcAV seasons previous to his retirement enabled him to realize a competency adequate to his Avants. This
Boaden's Life of Kemhle. 3TS
he was not fated to enjoy very long. We cannot close this notice of his life more satisfactorily than with the testimony of the English clergyman of Lausanne : —
" We are naturally grieved at the loss of what was ever amiable, excellent, and of good report, as a standing example to all around ; but how great, on reflection, should be our joy, that the feeble praise of man is succeeded by the immortal honour and approving smile of the best and greatest of all beings ! I was with him during the greater part of his last hours, and at the final close ; and on commending his sold to his gracious keeping, whose blood and mediatorial power could alone present it spotless before God, I could not avoid secretly exclaim- ing, ' Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my latter end be Uke his.' " — p. 579, vol. ii.
**' According to the plan expressed in our first quotation, Mr. Boaden has introduced in his narrative a good deal of the con- temporary history of the stage, and some sketches of the style and manner of the leading actors, in whose day Mr. Kemble made his first appearance at Drury-lane. These notices are among the very best parts of the book, touched off with a spirit and observation which bear a considerable analogy to the merits of ZofFani's pencil : —
; •* Palmer, in comedy, assumed the refined manners I have been de- cribing with great ease, but they were assumed : he seemed to me to have attained the station, rather than to have been born to it. In his general deportment he had a sort of elaborate grace and stately superiority, which he affected on all occasions, with an accompaniment of the most plausible politeness. He was the same on and off the stage — he was constantly acting the man of superior accomplishments. This it was that rendered Palmer so exquisite in * High Life below Stairs.' He was rcalli/ my Lord Duke's footman, affecting the airs and 'manners of his master — and here was the difference between him and Dodd, who from the radical gentility of his fops, became in the kitchen the real Sir Harry, instead of his coxcomb and impudent valet.
. ".Palmer, however, was an actor of infinite address, and sustained a very important line of business in the company. He was a man of great expense and luxurious habits, perfectly irreclaimable, and usually negligent ; but he would throw up his eyes with astonishment that he had lost the word, or cast them down with penitent humility, wipe his lips with his eternal white handkerchief to smother his errors, and bow himself out of the greatest absurdities that continued idleness could bring upon him."— pp. 53-4, vol. i.
•' Dodd, with more confined powers, was one of the most perfect actors that I have ever seen. He was the fopling of the drama rather than the age. I mean by this, that his own times rarely showed us any thing so highly charged with the vanity of personal exhibition. He was, to be sure, the prince of pink heels, and the soul of empty emi-
374 Boaden's Life of Kmble.
nence. As he tottered rather than walked down the stage, in all the protuberance of endless muslin and lace in his cravats and frills, he reminded you of the strutting motion of the pigeon. His action was suited to his figure. He took his snuff, or his bergamot, with a delight so beyond all grosser enjoyments, that he left you no doubt whatever of the superior happiness of a coxcomb." — p. 55, vol. i.
" Mr. Bensley here offers himself to my recollection as the only perfect representative of another character in the same comedy ; the ismiling, 3'ellow stockened, and cross-gartered Malvolio. All his pecu- liarities of deportment here aided his exhibition of the steward — the sliding ziz-zag advance and retreat of his figure fixed the attention to his stockings and his garters. His constrained smile, his hollow laugh, his lordly assumption, and his ineffable contempt of all that opposed him in the way to greatness were irresistibly diverting." — p. 57, vol. i.
" In Pierre, Mr. Bensley distinguished himself greatly ; and his lago, if it yielded to any, yielded only to the profound skill of Henderson. His voice had something superhuman in its tone, and his cadence was lofly and imposing. If I had been suddenly asked what Bensley was most like, I should have said, a creature of our poet's fancy, Prospero. In that part he was in truth a mighty magician, and the awful accents that he poured out seemed of power to wake sleepers from their graves, and to control those who possessed an absolute mastery over the elements." — pp. 57-8, vol. i.
" His (Parsons' s) Foresight was a perfect thing ; and his Corbaccio in ' The Fox' astonished and delighted the best judges in the art. His deafness in this wretched cormorant was truth itself — his eager expect- ation of Volpone's decease — his villanous temptations of Mosca, and his miserable delight at every succeeding invention of the Parasite, were above all praise. Nor was his expression confined to his face, amply as the features did their office ; but every passion circulated in him to the extremities, and spoke in the motion of his feet or the more striking intelligence of his hands : the latter became the claws of a harpy, when they crawled over the parchment, which blasted all his hopes, by showing that Mosca had become the heir of Volpone, instead of himself" — p. 62, vol. i.
" He (Henderson) would sometimes delight to show, without language, the rapid and opposite emotions, as they rise and chase each other in the mind. A masterly effort of this kind was Falstaff 's reading the letter from.Mrs. Ford in the presence of the ' foolish carrion' Mrs. Quickly. First, you saw, that he had *his belly full of Ford;' — her messenger even was an object of detestation. He glanced over the beginning of the letter, and pished at its apologies. He turned again to the messenger, to see how her air was in unison with the language of her mistress. The cudgel of Ford then seemed to fall upon his shoulders, and he shrunk from the enterprise. He read a sentence or two of the letter, — a spark of lechery twinkled in his eye, which turned for confirmation of his hopes upon love's ambassadress — and thus the images of suffering and desire, of alarm and enjoyment, succeeded one another, until at last the oil of incontinency in him settled above the
Bosiden's Life of Kemhle. 375
water of the Thames, and the ' divinity of odd numbers determined him to risk the third adventure.' " — pp. 77-8, vol. i.
We meet also with a number of diverting anecdotes, among which, the perplexity attending the production of his own ghost is good-humouredly given by Mr. B. ; also, descriptions of extraordinary debuts, to which we wish could have been added that most memorable one of our friend Liston, in Romeo, an exhi- bition we conceive quite equal in its way to old Bannister's Polly.
On most subjects immediately connected with acting, and on tnore than one point relating to composition, we are pleased with Mr. Boaden's criticisms. The theatre, he tells us, has been his principal study and amusement from his youth ; and he certainly appears not only a good judge of acting, but a vivid narrator of its effects upon himself, as well as a right-minded moral critic as to its proper legitimate subjects. (See pp. 223, 286, vol. i., and
Ep. 78, 260, vol. ii.) We wish we could speak as favourably of is general good taste, but in this there is in many points a wo- ful deficiency. His style often sinks into a sort of hobbling gossip, tinged with his own prejudices and feelings on matters rather irrelevant, and broken by awkward or flippant apostrophes, such as the following : —
" Alas ! excuse the unthinking idlers, dear and incomparable woman ! If in Lady Macbeth the terror you excited was unequalled, — the agony produced by your Isabella, your Belvidera, your Shore, your Mrs. Beverley, as little admitted any rational comparison." — p. 119, vol. i.
" The reader is by this time aware of the grand secret, and therefore ready to burst in upon me with, ' Well, but tell me what was Lewis in the piece?' and, ' Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns, once, and a million.' Mr. Lewis, Sir, I answer, since you will not allow me to tell Reynold's story, (indeed I never knew a man who could tell one of his stories after himself,) Mr. Lewis was a Welsh gentleman of great sprightiless named Haphazard ; — Mr. Quick culti- vated the black-letter; Mr. Fawcett, — but enough, I see you under- standing much of his design, and can guess at its execution." — pp. 190-1, vol. ii.
He is disposed also to waste much anger and pleasantry on such insignificant personages as the provincial fine lady whom the audience turned out for interrupting Kemble's performance ; on the greedy churchwardens who would have stoleii the teeth out of Milton's head; and lastly on some thousands of tailors, who twice come in for a ninefold measure of his satire. Added to this there is too much of the tendency to display erudition, and gravel himself in metaphysics ; as well as to lose sight of his own meaning in running after fine expressions. The following sen- tence, strongly akin to that in vol. i. p. 292, respecting Othello, will be by most people denominated a poem : — r
376 Boaden's Life of Kemhle.
' " If intellectual power were to be measured by an architectural scale, I should readily admit, that while you could conceive a grander edifice, fancy might be allowably suffered to exert itself upon a theatre worthy of Mrs, Siddons and Mr. Kemble, Miss Farren and Mrs. .Jordan." — ^p. 41, vol. ii.
" Though fancy sleep, my love is deep."
We hope that it is with the meaning of the sentence as with Master Stephen's love, " the deeper the sweeter."
We will not quarrel with him for the want of taste displayed in his notices of the " Stranger," the " Gamester," and "De Montfort," as it is the " zeal without knowledge" of a good heart and sound principles. Nor do we censure the proportions in which he has bestowed his praise, nor his choice of its objects. We are merely diverted with the deliberate Pindaric self-possession with which every now and then he prepares to distribute his honours ; or rather, (to quote our friend Knickerbocker,) " with that air of chuckling gratulation with which he draws forth a choice morsel to regale a favourite." Among these favourites Sheridan certainly seems not to have stood ; and Mr. Boaden has shown much ingenuity in pointing out some of his plagiarisms.
But, wherever Kemble is his subject, the friendly instinct of Mr. Boaden seems to have stood in the stead of good taste, and to have prescribed exactly what, and how much, ought to be said for the purpose of doing justice without showing undue partiality. We could, however, have Avished the incident mentioned in p. 75, vol. ii., left out, though certainly it has caused us a smile. John Philip Kemble, in the character of a tipsy eagle, escaping from Sheridan's aviary, presents a more ludicrous idea than Daniel O'Rourke's eagle, swearing upon his conscience, with his claw upon his breast.
The convivial weaknesses into which Kemble Avas in the course of his life betrayed, are very well known already : we apprehend, how- ever, that they Avere much less frequent, and discontinued at a much earlier period of life than is commonly supposed. Without defend- ing such failings, Ave must remark, nevertheless, that the merit of abstemiousness under mental and bodily exhaustion, and circum- stances of excitement and anxiety, is much greater than in ordinary cases. Pitt certainly possessed it not, any more than Fox or Sheridan , and, though inferior in result and importance, the trials of a leading actor are very similar to those of a great orator ; Avith this additional source of anxiety that he is at the beck of each individual among the multitudes Avho listen to him, and Avhose individual tastes are to be gratified at the same mo- ment. Independent of the example of the gay company into which they are throAvn, some actors, it may be said, prime them-
Boaden* 3 Life of Kemble. 377
ielves for this fiery ordeal, others are tempted to recruit wearied nature too freely after it, or to enjoy their recent triumph on the spur of the moment ; a third class more wisely steer between the straits of temptation. In Kemble's case, from the nature of his constitution, severe fasting was as necessary a preparative to an important part as severe study ; and probably after one of these La Trappe days, or during their intervals, the restorative might be more freely taken, and operate more strongly than on a man who eat his daily diner in comfort. But, enough of this, for we are conscious of standing on indefensible ground.
By this time, we believe, the vulgar mistake is cleared up respecting the supposed reserve and austerity of Kerable. No man in fact ever had less of it in private life. While Bannister's natural character was that of a grave man, and poor Suett, like the celebrated Carlini, was dying of nen ous horrors off the stage, while he kept the world in a roar on it, Kemble's spirits were
^tiniformly cheerful, and could be playful, even to boyishness,
' •* when no fool was coming."*
None but brothers of the latter extensive guild can sneer, we imagine, at the anecdote of the chimney-sweeps, told in p. 276, vol. ii. It was, in fact, a kind action done in the kindest way, by a man whose real importance could afford to be caught nap- ping ; and much reminds us of Sterne's little trait of the pinch of snuff taken out of the grateful beggar's box. In the same spirit was the grave Cervantic harangue which accompanied the guinea to the honest guardsmen. A sly touch of Mr. Kemble's vocation from his own lips, accompanied by a compliment to themselves, was no small sweetener to the donation.
If we were to describe how this considerate delicacy extended itself to the more important actions of Mr. Kemble's private life, how justly prized he was among his friends, and how adored in the circle of his own family, it would be encroaching in a wide field of forbidden ground. As a specimen, we might let honest John Rousham's letter speak for itself; directing the reader's attention at the same time to the letter written by Mr.
'* Kemble on the death of his father ; in quoting which, Mr. Boaden
"tery justly observes, " I have little doubt that the ^following totiching expression of his feelings, under the loss he had sus- tained, will be thought by most readers the brightest page of his life."
The task of recording that life could not, we think, have fallen into more faithful and zealous hands than those of Mr. Boaden,
• See the well-known nhecdote of Dr. Clarke, the metaphyaician, ** Boys, we must be serious, here is a fool coming^."
378 TheVaudoU.
who may claim the merit of having worked up agreeably, as well as instructively, materials not generally accessible to youngec^ men. If occasionally the style descend to a level better befitting the life of King, or Parsons, — if a phrase or a sentence now and then occur, devoid of that historical dignity which should suit itself to his subject, — we will consider these little familiarities excusable in one of that privileged class Avho have from time im- memorial been the oi rrepl of Betterton, Garrick, and other great actors ; a sort of green-room Ucalegons,
" Who wise thro' time, and narrative with age. In summer days like grasshoppers rejoice, A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice."
Pope's Homer, book iii. 1. 200.
Art. VII. — 1. Brief Observations on the present State of the Waldenses, and upon their actual Sufferings, made in the Summer of 1820. By George Lowther, Esq. 1821.
2. — A Brief Narration of a Visit to the Vaudois in 1824.
3, — Brief Memoir respecting the Waldenses, Sfc. the result of Observations made during a short Residence amongst that interesting People, in the Autumn of 1814. By a Clergyman of the Church of England, 1815.
4. — Narration of an Excursion to the Mountains of Piedmont, ^c. By the Rev. W. S. Gilly. Second Edition, 1825.
Of the many distinguished travellers who have given to the world their observations upon Italy, none have thought it worth their while to bestow even a passing remark upon the obscure and sequestered people, whose merits and misfortunes are the subject of the publications before us. From Addison might have been expected some mention of a handful of men, who had then so recently attracted the notice of Europe by their heroic defence of the faith of their forefathers against kings of the earth, who stood up, and rulers who took council together against, them. But that eminent writer devoted himself to a study (certainly possessing no ordinary interest) of medals and monuments of past times, on which, however, his remarks are seldom striking, and often common-place ; whilst his learning displayed itself too much in direct and showman-like quotations. On the other hand, there is a classical spirit pervading every page of Eustace
The Vaudois. 379
that will ever render his tour, however inaccurate, a delightful romance : but Eustace was a Catholic ; and, liberal as he was, it could hardly be expected of him that, even were he aware of their existence, he should espouse the cause of the Protestants of Pied- mont Forsyth, indeed, as a Scotchman, might have found in this transalpine church, as it exists at present, if nothing else at least a form of worship, which, from its resemblance to that of his own country, might have bespoke his notice and commenda- tion ; but sculpture and architecture, the academician and the poet, were not to be met with in the vallies of the Alps, and these were the objects that almost exclusively drew forth the attention and antithesis of this Tacitus of the north. Other travellers there are who have hovered about the very confines of the Vaudois, with the hope (not cherished in vain) of determin- ing the track of the hero of Carthage ; but whilst they kindled at the recollection of noble achievements in arms against the tem- poral power of Rome, they overlooked, like the rest, efforts no less glorious, which the same scenes might have suggested against the spiritual power of the city of the Seven-hills, which the revival of the Roman Catholic controversy will no longer suffer to slumber in oblivion.
From the pamphlets whose titles we have giv en at the head of our article, which serve rather to excite than satisfy curiosity, from Mr. Gilly's " farrago libelli," which is respectable from its motives, though sadly defective in arrangement and precision, and, from some other authenic sources of information, we will endeavour to lay before our readers a brief account of a church built in every sense of the word " upon a rock," alike venerable from its date, its sufferings, and its perseverance to the end.
Amongst the recesses of the Cottian Alps, to the south-west of Turin, and between the Clusone and Pelice, two mountain torrents which empty themselves into the Po, lives a race of men who, in the heart of a Catholic country, and oppressed by Catholic perse- cutions, have held the essential articles of the reformed faith from a period the most remote, probably from the times when Christianity was first planted amongst men.
Inhabitants of the valleys of the Alps, these primitive people have been long known by the name of Vaudois, Vallenses, or Waldenses, a term which, thougli in its origin simply denoting the region where they dwelt, has since, like that of Albigenses and Romanists, been commonly used in reference to the religious opinions they professed. In saying this we are, of course, aware that we have the Bishop of Meaux and the Catholics against us, but Peter Waldo the heretic of Lyons, with whom, according to them, the sect originated, and from whom it derived its appella-
' 380 The Vaudois.
tion, was excommunicated by the archbishop of that place in 1172, and is nowhere spoken of earher than the year 1160 ; whereas it may be gathered from a Waldensian MS., entitled *' La Nobla Lecon," written about the year 1100, of which we shall have occasion to speak again, that the Vaudois Avere at that time a distinct congregation. It may be further argued, that there is good reason for supposing the heresy of the Subalpine and Paterines to have been no other than that of the Waldenses under a more ancient designation; that no shadow of proof subsists of Peter Waldo having; ever set foot in Piedmont, and that a substantial difference is observable between his followers, and the Vaudois, in the bold assumption of the clerical office by the former, whilst the latter have scrupulously and uniformly with- held from unordained persons all ecclesiastical functions.* True it is that many of the disciples of Waldo spread themselves amongst the Albigenses, and some amongst the inhabitants of Piedmont, probably as persons holding opinions in part agreeing with their own ; so that it is very possible, from this cirumstance, that in succeeding times a confusion of name should have arisen, even without an attempt (which however there most likely was) to serve thereby a dishonest and party purpose.
For the early opinions of this interesting portion of the Chris- tian church, Mr. Gilly quptes a manuscript confession bearing date 1120, and a catechism, which he assigns to the thirteenth cen- tuiy, both preserved in the university library at Cambridge, and both, we apprehend, records of very doubtful value.
The catechism, if we mistake not, was once said to have been written about the year 1100, till it was discovered that it quotes scripture as distinguished into chapters, which was a division that was not effected for more than a hundred and fifty years after. What may be the grounds for giving it to the thirteenth century we know not ; we hope it is not the obvious advantage of ascrib- ing to it the greatest possible antiquity, which was consistent Avith a due regard to the anachronism in question. The same argu^ ment applies against the early date of the confession ; of which, moreover, the first article, containing an avowal of belief in the apostles' creed, is manifestly intended to rebut a charge of heterodoxy upon this point, advanced against the Waldenses (whether for the first time or not) long afterwards, and which could scarcely have been advanced at all, had a declaration so explicit been at that time in existence. Certain it is that Allix, a writer of great caution, fidelity, and research, and who published his account of the churches of Piedmont after Sir Samuel Mor-
• See Allix on the Churches of Piedmont, c. 24.
The VaudoU. 381
land had presented these manuscripts to Cambridge,' tnakes no use of either document. Still we may collect some of the leading tenets of the Waldenses from an authority above suspicion, the testimony of their enemies. Raynerius, a Jacobite of the thir- teenth century, in the midst of foul and inconsistent accusations, such as were levelled against the primitive Christians by the heathens of old, and in later times by the Catholics of France against their Protestant fellow-subjects, informs us that they gave no credit to modem miracles, rejected extreme unction, held offerings for the dead as nothing worth except to the priests, neglected the festivals, denied the doctrines of transubstantiation, purgatory, and the invocation of saints ; and to sum up all, be- lieved the church of Rome to be the whore of Babylon. When we listen to the more friendly voice of the " Noble Lesson," we are told, "if there be an honest man who desires to love God, and fear Jesus Christ, who will neither slander, nor swear, nor lie, nor commit adultery, nor kill, nor steal, nor avenge himself of his enemies, they presently say of such a one, he is a Vaud^s, and worthy of death." In the course of the same composition, (which is in verse,) the several articles of the law are enumerated, that against idols not excepted, the duty of searching the scrip- tures is enjoined, as also that of praying to the Trinity, though without a word in favour of the virgin or saints ; and confession and absolution are represented as unavailing, the power of for- giving sins, though usurped by the clergy, from the time of Pope Sylvester dpAvnwards, belonging to God, and to God only.
That such were the main articles of the early creed of the Wal- denses would further appear, by comparing it with that of their descendants, who migrated to Bohemia, and whose religious sentiments are left upon record by Pope vEneas Sylvius in a spirit of candour and liberality which forms a pleasing contrast to the scurrilous language bestowed on them by other writers of the church of Rome. To this language, however, the best reply will be found in the conflicting assertions of the accusers them- selves. These the learned Usher has collected and compared, and it will therefore be enough to observe that whilst one declares the Waldenses to have set no bounds to their lust — another affirms that they abhorred impurity of all kinds ; that whilst by one they are charged with rejecting the apostles' creed, and the salutation of the virgin, by another they are represented as receiving the whole of the new Testament, which contains them. That by one they are said to use no prayer but the " Lord's Prayer ;" by ano- ther to pray at greater or less length, and seven times a day; that according to one they permit Laymen to consecrate the elements; according to another the consecration is the work of the priests ;
VOL. I. 2d
382 ' The Vaudois.
of whom, according to a third, there are actually three distinct orders. But of this enough ; on a review, however, of these heretical opinions, we are surely furnished with a triumphant answer to a question which the Romanists have taught every priest " that can scarce understand his brieviary," to ask — ^where was the religion of Protestants before Luther ? not in the Bible only, may it be replied, though in the bible it was, but in the Tallies of Piedmont, " in the fastnesses of the mountains, (to use a beautiful quotation of Jewell's,) as it was in such places of old that the prophets prophesied from the spirit of God."
It was reasonable, then, that this little society, (less, indeed, now than some centuries ago,) should awaken the strongest sympathy of Protestant states, and accordingly Protestant states have inter- fered from time to time by money and remonstrances; and England, it is unnecessary to say, has not been wanting in the hour of need. It is with pride that an Englishman reads the firm and dignified language of Cromwell, (for he had the merit of upholding the country in its foreign relations,) which he addressed to the duke of Savoy, on his cruel persecution of this gallant race of men, and to Louis XIV., on his aiding and abet- ting measures so sanguinary and unjust.
It is true that the sincerity of these demonstrations of pity and regard may be questioned by those who call to mind, that their author was the same Cromwell who had put to the sword man, woman, and child, at Drogheda, but a few years before, with a cruelty unexampled even in those days of blood : and that the inditer of memorials, in which the loyalty of the sufferers is so properly urged as an argument in their favour, was the same Milton who had justified the murder of his own sovereign in a deliberate address to his countrymen, and who had taught that it was a good work, even an honour belonging to saints, " to bind their kings in chains, and their nobles in links of iron."*
But to return ; reasonable it was that Protestant states should feel a deep interest in the Vaudois. Their sufferings and their weakness pleaded alike for their protection and support ; and, what would be no less a matter of concern to those who had the advancement of the Reformation at heart, their extermination would probably be fatal to the further progress of that good cause in those regions.
And here we must be permitted to remark, that amongst the schemes for spreading Christianity, pure and undefiled, over the face of the earth, for which our own times are so honourably distinguished, the value of these detached asylums of the reformed
♦ See Iconoclast, p. 204.
The Vaudois. 383
faith, is not, perhaps, duly appreciated, nor their preservation sufficiently secured. It is the nature of the human mind to rush into opposites, and even to think the reverse of wrong right. A Catholic has been taught to believe a great deal too much ; and therefore his next step, if any step he takes, will probably be to believe nothing at all. To abjure Catholicism is Avith him to abjure Christianity ; for so every member of the church of Rome has been accustomed to think from his childhood upwards. He sees no halting-place between these extremes ; he has never suf- fered himself, or been suffered by others, candidly to examine whether a faith in the gospel is not consistent with a denial of the Pope ; and when he finds himself constrained by common sense to refuse allegiance to the representative of St. Peter, he knows not how he can hold concord with Christ, and so abandon both. In proof of this nothing can be more to the purpose than Mr. Blanco White's most interesting self-dissection, in his •' Evi- dences against Catholicism." The process he undenvent was precisely such as we have described. Though educated in the sfcraightest principles of the Spanish church, and at an early age Ordained to the priestly office, he had a mind too inquisitive, when it had arrived at maturity, to acquiesce in a creed which made such large demands on his credulity, so that at length he deserted it altogether, and betook himself to the wilderness of unbelief He arrived in England under a persuasion, common to many Spaniards, that a nation so enlightened as our own, could only consider religion as a useful engine of state, and that in his present frame of mind he should there meet with kindred and congenial spirits. Happily he was deceived. A friend, for whose talents and acquirements he had a respect, he found ; but he found him, to his surprise, a believer. He could now speak without restraint ; he could argue without fear of the Inquisition. He entered our churches, and saw nothing there but reasonable service. By accident, (providentially, we would rather say,) he became acquainted with the writings of an author calculated, above every other, to penetrate and disperse the clouds of doubt with \Vhich a lumbering system of irrational faith had enclosed him ; the liberal, the persuasive, the luminous, Paley ; and led first by his " Natural Theology" (as who is not, whatever the disciples of Ellis may say to the disparagement of such divinity?) to kindly and reverential feelings for the Maker and Preserver of all, and then by his " Evidences of Christianity," to such various and concurrent testimonies to the truth of revelation, as it would be unphilosophical to withstand, he saw religion exonerated of a weight which had before sunk it, and resuming the clerical character which he had quitted on leaving Spain, he settled into
2d2
384 The Vaudois.
a most useful minister of our reformed and tolerant church. It was the quiet contemplation of Protestantism that laid the foun- dation of all this, — as the polar snow has. been supposed to im- part its whiteness to the animals that gaze upon it. Had Mr. White continued in Spain, he probably would have continued a sceptic or an infidel to his dying day. Hence, then, the wisdom of cherishing in every Catholic country, where it is possible, a Protestant, body, however small ; not as a barrack of crusaders against the religion of the state, but as a city of refuge that might attract the step of the perplexed Catholic, and save him from a fruitless search after rest in the " dry places" of infidelity.
Nor let it be supposed, that the nations are not ripe for avail- ing themselves of such asylums. In Spain, the strong hold of papacy, Mr. White, who had the best opportunities of judging, asserts, that very few amongst his own class, whether clergy or laity, are sincere in their faith. In France, it is notorious, that infidelity has spread like a pestilence, where cards are decorated with pictures of the last judgment, and children in the streets play at carrying out the eucharist with cross and bell. In Italy and Sicily there may often be remarked an arch smile on the faCe of the priest, when he exhibits the relics to a heretic, whilst any admiration expressed by the complaisant stranger, of the function of the day, will be met with a philosophic " si, e popolare." In this state of things, then, is it visionary to suppose, that many who have deserted it would again embrace the gospel, had they the power of beholding it in its simplicity and truth — that many might thus discover to their profit, both here and hereafter, even in spite of the poet, that temples there are, more delightful to enter than those which he declares the most delightful of all ? —
" Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre Errare, atque viam palantes quaerere vitae ?"
We have ventured to throw out these observations with the hope that they may not be wholly without benefit to the cause of; the Vaudois, whose wants, spiritual as well as temporal, have beenj lately brought before a public not deaf to such appeals, and under the sanction of names which perhaps might render all further recommendation needless. The sympathies of Englishmen only require direction. Our societies for religious or benevolent pur- poses are as many in number and as various in object, as joint- stock companies themselves ; we only wish, that their relative importance and chances of success may be duly kept in sight, and that the very expensive process, for instance, of converting a Jew, may not intrench upon funds that might be applied to ends not more worthy perhaps, but less hopeless. Besides, in this case.
The Vaudois. 385
our national honour and good faith stand almost pledged. In 1655, near forty thousand pounds was raised by public subscrip- tion throughout England and Wales, for the " poor sufferers in the vallies of Piedmont," after one of their struggles with a duke of Savoy. Of this sum, somewhat more than one half was ex- pended in relieving their immediate necessities, and the remainder vested in commissioners, to be put out to interest for their future wants. The necessities of Charles II., or the papal bigotry of his successor, might have prompted the seizure of this charitable fund — it is but fair, however, to state, that of this no proof has been advanced ; certain it is, that before the year 1695 it seeips to have disappeared ; when Queen Mary, in great part, supplied its place by a grant of 500Z. per annum to the Vaudois' pastors in Piedmont and Germany ; and " by information which I have incidentally received," says Dr. Bridge, (who is understood to be the author of one of the anonymous pamphlets we have noticed,) " something like this sum was annually paid to the Vaudois out of the British Exchequer, from the reign of Queen Mary till the period when they came under the dominion of France in 1797," a submission which they could not resbt, and which it would ll^erefore be unjust in us to resent.
It is time, however, that Ave should offer our readers some ac- count of the present condition of the Protestants of Piedmont. Much is it to be wished, that their advocates had been more ex- plicit with regard to the actual incomes of the Vaudois clergy — but ithe pamphlets content themselves with declaring, in general terms, their extfpioe poverty ; and Mr. Gilly, by notes upon his text, and notes upon his notes, renders it difficult to draw a clear conclusion. We believe that we are correct when we say, that each Vaudois' minister may reckon upon the receipt of about 50/. a year, arising from an annual allowance made by the King of Sardinia, a small charge upon each commune, and a stipend from the Society for the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts. Such an income undoubtedly equals or exceeds that which falls to the lot of many of the Welsh and .northern clergy in our own church, though it should not be concealed, that being in the latter case only the lowest step of a graduated scale, the effects of poverty, both on the individuals and the body to which they belong, are less sensibly felt. Moreover, when it is remembered, that the churches of the Vaudois are open for prayers, catecheti- cal instructions, or both, three times in the week, besides the regular duties of the sabbath, the ox will be thought but indiffer ently fed for the corn he treads out. Still this is not the strong ground on which the friends of the Vaudois solicit contributions in their behalf. It is, to build and endow a hospital for the sick —
386 The Vaudois.
to maintain schoolmasters for the children — and to reestablish a college, which for lack of funds has sunk into decay, for the edu- cation of their own ministers in their own land. This last mea- sure carried into effect, the church of the Vaudois might again become an episcopal church, to which we are assured the pastors are still favourable, and which it actually was, till the distresses of the times, augmented by a dreadful pestilence in the early part of the seventeenth century, threw them into the arms of Switzer- land, which naturally sent them, together with clerical recruits, her liturgy, her forms of church-government, and her cold and repulsive ritual. It is at Geneva and Lausanne, that the theo- logical student of Piedmont is still brought up and ordained ; and well will it be, if the Socinian doctrines, at present so preva- lent amongst Swiss ecclesiastics, pollute not the fountain of life in the valHes of Italy. —
" Quum fluctus interlabere Sicanos,
Doris amara suam non intermisceat undam !"
Hitherto, we are told, they have escaped the infection. But hoAvever this may be, the Presbyterian is the least adapted, of the reformed churches, to bring about the good effects we have pointed out, as not unlikely to follow from the establishment of a Protestant community in a Catholic kingdom. To step at once from Rome to Geneva would be to take one of those strides of Neptune, two of which carried him to the ends of the earth. It is by the spectacle of a church like our own, that we have hopes of conciliating a Catholic — a church, alike refliov^d from ostenta- tion and meanness, from admiration of ornarnetit and contempt for it — retaining so much reverence for ancient customs and an- cient things, as not rashly to abolish them, and only so much as not to adopt them blindly. Driving, indeed, Tarquin from the throne, and swearing that henceforward no king should sit thereon, but not driving after him a useful and innocent citizen because he had the ill fortune to bear the tyrant's name. As it is, the Wal- densian church is governed by a synod, consisting of thirteen pastors, (for such is the number of the clergy,) and as many elders, the whole under the presidency of an ecclesiastic elected amongst themselves to fill the office, and entitled a moderator.
Of this moderator, we have the following picture in the person of Mr. Peyrani, who occupied that honourable station when Mr. Gilly visited the country, but who is now dead — and surely a more poverty-stricken head of a Christian community could not be de- sired by the most inveterate economist amongst us : —
" At a small fire where the fiiel was supplied in too scanty a portion
The Vaudois, 387
to impart warmth in the room," (this was amidst the Alps in January,) *' and by the side of a table covered with books, parchments, and manuscripts, sat a slender, feeble-looking, old man, whose whole frame was bowed down by infirmity. A night-cap was on his head, and at first sight we supposed he had a long white beard hanging down upon his neck ; but upon his rising to welcome us, we perceived that it was no beard, but whiskers of a length which are not often seen, and which had a very singular effect. His dress consisted of a shabby time-worn black suit, and white worsted stockings, so darned and patched, that it is difficult to say whether any portion of the original hose remained. Over his shoulder was thrown what once had been a cloak, but now a shred only, and more like the remains of a horse-cloth than part of a clerical dress. This cloak, in the animation of his discourse, fi-e-. quently ftll from his shoulders, and was replaced by his son with a degree of filial kindness and attention extremely prepossessing. The sickly looking sufferer in this humble costume, in this garb of indi- gence, was the moderator of the Vaudois, the successor of a line of prelates, whom tradition would extend to the apostles themselves ; the high-priest of a church, which is beyond all shadow of doubt the parent church of every Protestant community in Europe, and which centuries of persecution have not been able to destroy." — p. 69.
It might have been supposed that in these "Alpine solitudes," all taste for letters would have perished ; that knowledge would have been little prized where ignorance could not be attended with much disgrace ; and that the •' sus atque sacerdos" so maliciously coupled in an author that is familiar to us, would have been here, if any where, but too appropriate an union. Quite the contrary — tne gld man conversed in Latin with a fluency and felicity of langidtl^, embellished by frequent and apt quotations from the poets, which would have done honour to a university: his lamentations were chiefly over the books which necessity had driven him to sell for food and clothes, and we may add, that amongst the manuscripts which he left behind at his death, were found dissertations of his own upon the Greek drama — so con- ducive to a cheerful old age is it to be a learner to the last, rir^paaiceiv hihaoKofievo^, But it may be Urged, to the credit of the Protestant faith, that it possesses a savour of salt which preserves its followers from corruption, even in an atmosphere the most unwholesome ; it is a leaven which leavens the whole lump, not the lump of morals only, (which is its more immediate province,) but what should seem to be less within its influence, that of arts and science, and literature also. Amongst the clergy, indeed, the mere abolition of the restraint of celibacy would have an obvious tendency to encourage activity of mind ; for not to say how much the reprobate amongst them must have been previously Qccupied in contrivances for sinning without detection, and the
399^* The Vaudois.
innocehl; in struggles against sinning at all, Vhicli were positive obstacles to the more excursive employment of the thoughts in both ; exertions were now required of them for the support of a family, from which they were before exempt, and those exer- tions would, on every account, be more likely to be of the head than the hands. Neither is this all — there is another beneficial principle which should be taken into account, and which affected clergy and laity alike ; the exercise of private judgment, a right for which Protestants have ever contended with an earnestness suited to the importance of the object at stake. Here was, perhaps, the true vis viva of Protestantism — hereby was the understanding released from bonds, which not daring to burst, and yet unwilling to wear, it endeavoured to forget in torpor and repose. The infallibility of mother church pressed like an incubus on the faculties of her most intelligent sons ; witness that memo- rable declaration of the Jesuits, prefixed to the third book of their edition of NcAvton's "Principia." *' In this third book," say they most characteristically, "Newton assumes the hypothesis of the motion of the earth. It would be impossible for us to ex- plain the author's propositions, without adopting the same hypo- thesis ; accordingly, we are under the necessity of sustaining a character which is not bur own — still we profess submission to those decrees of the sovereign pontiffs, which declare that the earth moves not" There is something very ludicrous (were it not for the state of bondage it indicates) in this attempt at clearing up the misunderstanding which manifestly prevailed between the earth and his holiness ; the one obstinately persist- ing in turning round, the other as obstinately asserting that it should and did stand still. "^'
Such as we have described him, before we wandered into thiy digression, was, in 1823, the moderator of the Waldensian synod, an assembly in which is vested the appointment of ministers td the respective parishes, (the parish where the vacancy has oc- curred having the privilege of nominating the candidates,) whilst the ecclesiastical affairs of each are managed by its own pastor, assisted by a certain number of lay elders. French is now the language in which all the offices of their church are written ; and the liturgies in use are those of Geneva and Neufchatel, but chiefly that of Geneva. It is to be lamented too, that in con- formity with the heartless practice of their Presbyterian neigh- bours, these poor Piedmontese who, if their hopes were in this life would be most miserable, have no burial service whatever. Mr. Gilly tells us, indeed, that the Swiss are likely to supply this grievous defect in their ritual— that struck with the manner in which Kerable was committed to the grave at Lausanne,
ITie Vaudois,
agreeably to the forms of our own church, they expressed a/ general wish that an office so impressive should be adopted amongst themselves ; but of this, we confess, we have little ex- pectation. Kemble is not the first of our countrymen by many who has laid his bones in Switzerland ; why then should the Swiss have so long delayed to copy, what it is pretended they admire so much ? Besides, every one Avho knows the jealousy with which they regard all interference with their established usages, no matter how trifling, and the complacency with which they behold all the works of their own hands, will think such a design, if ever expressed at all in earnest, fit only to be added to those with which Astolfo found the moon encumbered many years ago, —
I vani disegTii che non han mai loco. *
j,The parishes of the Vaudois vary in population from about 2000 to 700, but the labours of the pastors are greatly augmented by the extent of wild and difficult country over which their flocks are scattered. The proportion of Protestants to Catholics is in one parish as forty to one, and in another only as two and two- thirds to one, which are the two extremes ; on the whole, the former amount to 18,600, the latter to 1700. Superior, however, as the Protestants are to the Catholics in numbers, and, what is of more consequence, in intelligence and acquirements, they are made to li^bour under some humiliating privations : they are not permitted tp practise as physicians, apothecaries, attorneys, or advocates, except amongst their own community, and within the limits of the Clusone and jfelice ; within the same limits only can they buy or inherit estates, and on these they have to pay a land-tax of 20| per cent, whilst the Catholic^ pay but 13. Their title to such pur- chases as were made beyond the boundary, under Buonaparte, by ^|iom they were placed upon a level with the other subjects of the empire, though not annulled, has not been hitherto acknowledged by law. No books of instruction or devotion are allowed to be pcinled for their use in Piedmont ; a regulation the more oppress- ive from the duty on the importation of such books being extra- vagant, ,and the more keenly felt from their anxiety to procure tlfiegn^ ,,In the syndicates of the commune of the three val lies, there cannot be a majority of Protestants ; a restriction, of which the natural consequence is, that the municipal officers are often men who can neither read nor write, and who are actually clothed at the expense of the commune. " At this moment," says Mr. Lowther, in 1820, " the syndic, of Bobi, is both an apostate and pauper, and one of the two counsellors who assist him is a foreigner." Finally, the Protestants are compelled to observe the
39D: The Vaudois.
popish festivals, with a strictness which is the more intolerable from their immoderate number. " In 1814," says the same gentleman, "some Waldenses were obhged to pay a fine for being caught watering their ground at a great distance from any village, on a f&te." If the Catholics choose to retain these heathen holidays, (for such they doubtless were in their origin,) they should at least retain also the heathen rules for keeping tibyemf-now we know from the best authority: —
Festis qusedam exercere diebus Fas et jura sinunt — rivos deducere nulla Religio vetuit. —
These are undoubtedly hardships — but the loyalty of the Vaudois still remains unshaken ; they are thankful for that tolera- tion which they enjoy, and which their forefathers wanted ; and they have sense and modesty enough to perceive that there can be no government at all without a system of privileges and re- straints, more or less. It is the interest and wisdom of any govern- ment to remove such restraints as far as is consistent with the safety of the public ; and, in the instance before us, it is difficult to say what danger could accrue from their total abolition. The numbers of the party aggrieved are inconsiderable — their religious opinions perfectly free from poUtical consequences — their loyalty and humanity, under every temptation to the contrary, confessedly conspicuous ; yet still their sovereign does not think it fit to grant them the immunities they require, at present at least, and still they continue true and faithful subjects, holding out a bright example to those of the sister island, who are disgusting even their best friends by noisy and vapid declamations about oppression and persecution, whilst the little finger of Sardinia is herein thicker than England's loins ; and who forget to make some small allowance for the prejudices (if they will have it so) of a people who cannot in a moment divest themselves of a notion that their numbers are considerable, their tenets subversive of good govern- ment, their past history sullied with deeds of cruelty and blood, and their present efforts directed to invade the laws of the land, and breathing out empty menaces of a foreign and unnatural coalition against a country which would willingly do them a parent's offices, but which they will, in spite of herself, convert into a step-mother.
Mermme Mamtmt 39X
"^ '' t' z.. ■ .rrfev/n ;A«n .>r/ In .fir
Art, VIII. — Memorie Romane di Antichita e dl Belle Arti 1 vol. 8vo., Ra^a, 1825, pp. 386.
The periodical publication called the Effemeridi di Roma, av well as that of Guattani, secretary of the academies of archeology and the fine arts, has been discontinued, or rather merged, in the more extensive publication now before us, which is the first volume of a series to be continued annually. The names of the editors, the Cavalier Pietro Visconti, the Marchese Melchiorri, Luigi and Pietro Cardinali, are not unknown to science and literature. In the course of the work we also find communi- cations from the translations of the academy, from several of the first literati in Rome, Gherardo di Rossi, director of the museum at Naples, Monsignor Nicolai, president of the Roman archeo- logical society, Monsignor Mai, keeper of the Vatican library, professors Nibby and Settele, Avvocato Fea, the architect Valar dier, Louvery, Uggeri, and many others.
The book is divided into two parts. One of these embraces objects relating to antiquities, the illustration of ancient monu-* raents, or ancient customs, Roman, Greek, or Etruscan, sacred or profane, the explanation of obscure or doubtful passages in the classic authors, and the determination of undecided points of history, chronology, or topography. The same portion of the work contains a detailed report of the transactions of the Roman academy, and the archeological society; and notices the excava- tions which are daily making in Rome and Latium, in search of objects which for ages have been buried under accumulated ruins, and concealed from the public eye. The second section is devoted to the progress of the fine arts, and will occasionally be enriched with biographical notices of distinguished artists. Such is the general outline of the plan. Some years, it may be expected, will be more fruitful than others : but there is reason to nope that the " Athens of Italy" Avill never prove a barren soil. .^The industry of our own Antiquarian Society, in illustrating the monuments of Roman antiquity, which have been discovered in this island, and the zeal with which several publications record every newly discovered fragment, inscription, and coin, are very commendable, and sometimes useful. With great learning and patient industry they have described the remnants of the Roman roads, camps, and stations ; have traced many of the legions and cohorts, which were stationed in this island, particularly along the walls of Hadrian and Severus, and have succeeded in throw- ing a ray of light on some of the obscurest parts of our history, chronology, and topography, when Britain was under the do-
39S Memorie Romane,
mination of Roman power. But it must be confessed that, at the present day, their antiquarian meal is often scanty, and we some- times have the mortification to see our friend Mr. Urban reduced to the dire necessity of picking a bone.
The soil of Italy, and particularly of Rome, is more rich and fruitful. It is impossible to view, without astonishment, the monuments of ancient genius and magnificence, statues, vases, •and mosaics, which, surviving the lapse of ages, and the fall of the 'Roman empire, still adorn, and are annually augmenting, the rich collections of the Capitol and the Vatican. Whoever enters the ruins of Pompei, and the museum of Naples or Portici, probably feels himself compelled to exclaim, as we have done ourselves, " There is nothing new under the sun." Here we have ocular evidence that many things which We had flattered ourselves to be modern inventions and improvements, were perfectly familiar to the Romans two thousand years ago. The immense variety of inscriptions, medals, coins, and other objects, which are annually augmenting these rich repositories, have had a beneficial influence on some departments of science. They have enabled the learned to clear some points of history, to fix the date of some consulships, to ascertain the site of several ancient cities, and to explain several obscure and doubtful passages in the classics, and other ancient writers. The mine is not yet exhausted ; we shall there- fore look with curiosity to the annual report of the labours and discoveries of the Roman academicians and artists, not without expectation of finding something to lay before our readers,
The contents of this first volume of the Memorie Romane present a great variety of matter. There are, in the first section, five original dissertations by the Visconti, Melchiorri, and Clemente Cardinali, on different monuments recently discovered : two con- tinuing the general collection of ancient inscriptions lately come" to light ; thirteen miscellaneous articles from the last year's ' transactions of the archeological society ; and several notices of the excavations lately made at Veii, Ostia, and in various parts " of Rome. The second section describes the statues, pictures, &c., lately executed in Rome. We shall select a few particulars from each section.
Topography. — The site of the city of Veii, which struggled so bravely for its independence with infant Rome, till it was over- whelmed by the power of Furius Camillus, in the year of Rome 360, was for centuries unknown. Conjecture, and the vanity of modern inscriptions, had placed it at Civita Castellana. The judgment of D'Anville, and Fea, fixed it at the Isola Farnese, about eight miles north of Rome. About twelve years ago search was made in the Isola, ruins were discovered, and at length
Memorie Romane. 3S!i^
excavations were begun which have put the question beyond dis-' pute. The walls, the gates, and several buildings, public and private, have been bared ; and the inscriptions of the senate and people of Veii, exhibited to the eye of the spectator. The stream Cremera, once swelled by the devoted blood of the three hundred Fabii, is discernible ; still paying its scanty tribute to the Tyber. The enterprise of Signor Georgi has been rewarded. A valuable, collection of statues, busts, reliefs, columns, sarcofagi, candelabra, and other marbles, to the amount of about four hundred, has* been rescued from the ruins ; and has lately been purchased for the sum of 25,000 crowns, by the Pope, for the Vatican mu- seum. A semicolossal statue of Tiberius, one of Germanicus, a^ Diana, a Bacchus, a Hercules, busts of Augustus, Vespasian, and Caius and Lucius Caesar, sons of Agrippa, are the most' valuable, (p. 50.) i'
In the meeting of the archeological society, November 24," Monsignor Nicolai, the president, read a memoir, historical and descriptive, of the town of Ardea, which, of all its ancient fame and fortunes, retains Uttle but the name. It is now but a feud, or farm of the Duke Cesariui. (p. 140.)
Professor Nibby, in his antiquarian rambles on the Via Appia^ ' has discovered the vestiges and ruins of two ancient Latin towns, which he conjectures to be Appioli and Politorium.
Navy of the ancient Romans. — Signor C. Cardinali has amused his learned leisure with a novel and ingenious treatise on this subject, (p. 79.) It is entitled Catalogo delle Navi Romane tratto dagll antichi marmi scritti: a list of the Roman navy, collected from the inscriptions on ancient marble monuments. The Briton's prayer for his country is — " Esto perpetua," and he shudders at the bare supposition that it will follow the fate of the Roman and other great empires. But if we could venture to imagine such a catastrophe, if " imperial Troy should fall, and one tremendous ruin swallow all," our government, our fleets and armies, our literature and religion, — it would be an amusing occupation, some one or two thousand years hence, for an anti- quary of that day to collect a catalogue of the once victorious British navy, not from the reports of the Admiralty, not from the speeches made in parliament, nor the voluminous histories of England, all of which may be supposed to have perished in the common wreck, but from the grave-stones and epitaphs of our naval officers, recovered by digging in the rubbish and ruins where Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, and the cathedral and parish churches of England once stood. This is what Signor Cardinali has done for the once triumphant navy of ancient Rome. FoUowing the footsteps of Gori, (Inscr. Etr. t. iii. p. 69,) and the
^Sm" Memorie Itomane.
learned epigraphist Marini, (Arvali, p. 408.), and availing him- self of other more recent lapidary collections, the ingenious antiquary, not confining himself to one particular period, has succeeded in collecting the names of eighty sail of Roman frigates and men of war, distinguishing their rates from two to six tiers of oars, naming some of the commanding officers, and often the admiral and station to which they belonged. Jt is not indeed so ancient as Homer's " Catalogue of the Grecian Fleet," nor so complete as Murray's " List of the British Navy," but certainly more authentic than the one, and more curious, if less formidable, than the other.
The catalogue contains only two biremes, or ships of two tiers of oars, (shall we say two-deckers ?) Fides and Mars, one of six, Sessieris, Ops; two of five, Quinquiremes, Augustus and Victoria. The main body of the fleet was composed of trieres. These amount to fifty-two sail. Their names, omitting some, which are duplicate, though distinct vessels, include many gods and virtues, and several of their names still survive, with increased lustre, in the British navy. In alphabetical order they are as follows : — JEsculapius, Apollo, Aquila,Arc, (perhaps Arcitenens,) Armena, Athena, AtiUnus, Augustus, Capricornus, Castor, Ceres, Concordia, Cupido, Danae, Euphrates, Fortuna, Galea, Hercules, Jupiter, Isis, Juvenilis, Liber Pater, Lucifer, Marin, Mars, Mer- curius, Minerva, Neptunus, Ops, Pax, Particus, Pietas, Proci- dentia, Renocyr, Salamina, Salvia, Salus, Sol, Spes, Taurus, Tiber, Tigris, Rinnata, Triumphus, Venus, Victoria, Virtus. Besides these ships of greater force the author has given a list of twelve liburns, that is light gallies, or frigates : — Amman, Cle- mentina, Clypeus, Diana, Fides, Grypi., Justitia, Nereis^ Neptunus, and Virtus. The marbles which indicate the name and rate of the ship are often the sepulchral stone erected to the memory of a deceased officer, or mariner, by his wife, his chil- dren, his messmates, or his fellow officers ; sometimes inscriptions to record the battles and triumphs in which they had been engaged. In every instance the author refers scrupulously to the originals, which he illustrates sometimes with grave criticism, and some- times with pleasantry. It would carry us beyond due bounds to cite examples. We learn from the same dissertation the fact, but without date, that Marcus Menius Agrippa was admiral on the British station. — Praefectus Classis Brittannicse. (Reines, CI. VI, N. 128. and Grut. p. CCCCXCIII. 6.)
Monuments and antiquities of the ancient Christians. — For more than a century the lapidary inscriptions of the primitive Christians have attracted the attention of the learned, particularly at Rome. Such original monuments are not less authentic than
Memorie Romane. 395
books, Kilt tliey often descend to particulars, where Eusebius, and the other early ecclesiastical historians, deal only in general assertion. They were doubtless, in some instances, the very authorities on which these historians grounded their narratives. They fix some doubtful dates, and exhibit, in the most simple and affecting manner, the triumphs of the martyrs, and the customs and sentiments of the early Christians. Aware of the value of these marbles, Pope Clement XL, and Benedict XIV,, began to collect them in the Capitol and the Vatican, and Pius VII. gave an honourable station to several thousands of them in the first saloon of the Vatican museum. The literary labours of Boldetti and Selvaggi in this department are well known. These monu- ments have now so much increased in number, variety, and importance, that they form a distinct department of literature ; and we understand that a chair of " Christian Antiquities" has been lately established in the university of Rome by the present Pope, Leo XII., where lectures are delivered by a public pro- fessor.
The volume before us contains two communications on this subject; one from Professor Settale, on the importance of these monuments, which reach from the second century of the Christian era, in a memoir which he read to the meeting of the Archeological Society, on the 3d of June, 1824, (p. 144 ;^ the other (p. 93) from the pen of the academician Visconti, which he gives as a prelude to an extensive work, which he is preparing for the press. Visconti's work will bring under review such monuments as have been discovered in "Subterranean Rome," the ancient cemeteries, and particularly in the catacombs, since the worics of Aringhi, Bosio, Boldetti, and Marini were given to the public. Among the many inscriptions inserted in the present essay, the two following are the most ancient, found in the catacombs: N. XXX. SVRRA. ET SENEC, COSS. and XL. L. FAB. CIL. M. ANN. LIB. COSS. The consul- ship of Senecio and SurrawaS in the reign of Trajan, in the year of Christ 107, the very year in which Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, suffered martyrdom in the Flavian amphitheatre ; that of Fabius Cilus and M. Annius Libo was under Severus, and corresponds with the year of Christ 204. After proving, by probable arguments, that the first of these inscriptions was on the tomb of thirty martyrs, and the latter of forty, whose names were unknown, and introducing a series of monuments of subsequent date, the author expresses his surprise at the assertion of Bishop Burnet, (Letters from Italy, p. 210,) that no monuments are found in the Roman catacombs of a date anterior to the fourth century. He has also transcribed several other epitaphs, such as the following, MAR-
396 Memorie Romane.
CELLA ETCHRISTI MARTYRESCCCCCL.andRVFFINVS ET CHRISTI MARTYRES. CL MARTYRES CHRISTI ; another, with simply the words GAVDENT IN PACE. From a multitude of such original monuments, the learned author con- firms the testimony of Prudentius, (Ad. Valerian Ep.)
Sunt et multa tamen tacitas claudentia iumbas Marmora, qute solum significant numerum ;
and by positive evidence invalidates a singular opinion of Dod- well, adopted by Gibbon. The dissertation extends over twenty- two closely printed pages, (pp. 91-115.)
Monuments illustrated. — Nearly one-third of the volume con- sists of dissertations on this subject, which display much learning and research, but are written in too prolix a style. We observe one explanatory of an elegant mosaic pavement found in Sabina ; it represents the Diana of Ephesus in the centre, surrounded with the attributes of divinity, which mythology attributed to her. This beautiful antique has been inserted in the floor of that de- partment of the Vatican, which was built by Pius VII. in 1822. Another describes a sarcophagus, representing the whole fable of Marsyas, the Phrygian, who was flayed alive for presuming to contend with Apollo for the palm of music. This bass-relief is of Grecian marble, and supposed to be of Grecian workmanship. It is more interesting than the sarcophagus in the Vatican, or that in Villa Borghese, not only for the superior elegance of the execution, but because it contains more figures, all clearly defined, and serves to explain what is obscure in the other two. This antique was lately found in the excavations which the Princess Doria is making in the Aurelian way. A dissertation is bestowed on a bronze vase, found at Velletri, and deposited in the Borgian museum, which represents the builder of the ship Argo, attended by Mercury and Minerva ; another on a suspicious two-faced Enna, found on the Coelian hill, representing, it is contended, Socrates and Seneca. The portrait of Socrates is well known ; but it is still a problem whether the sculptured likeness of Seneca lias reached our times. The volume contains several other pieces on similar subjects ; but it would be difficult, without the engrav- ings, to make the subjects interesting or intelligible to our readers. We cannot, however, pass over without notice, the raggionam^nio of Cavalier Visconti, on some brass coins and earthenware lamps, which served the purpose of strenae, or new year's gifts, on the first of January, among the ancient Romans ; the essay is illus- trated by several plates. The learned author traces up the strenae, not only to the time of Augustus, a period to which the origin is limited by Polydore Virgil, but almost to the infancy of Rome.
Memorie RotnahS. 397
He shows that the objects in question were sacred to the bifronted Janus, who still retains his honour of ushering in the first month of the new year ; that in the early times of Roman simplicity, they consisted of an as of copper, like the specimens which he exhibits, with the head of the bifronted Janus, crowned with a- garland of laurel ; and on the reverse, the motto ANNVM NOVM FASTVM FELICEM MIHI C, accompanied with presents of fruit and sweetmeats, sometimes coloured or gilt, as is still the custom in Italy ; that in the times of Imperial pride, and luxury, when the images of the Emperors had usurped the place of the Gods, on coins and medals, a lamp, a clypeus or other object, often of earthenware, ornamented with the original attri- butes of Janus, became fashionable new-year presents. He con- jectures that the C, at the end of the inscription, means centies; just as the Italians, at the present lay, on similar occasions, wish their friends, cenfo anni di felicita. As the laurel was sacred to Janus, and was thrown into the fire to collect happy omens for the new year, our author expresses his surprise (p. 23,) that Pro- fessor Heyne should have found any difficulty in the couplet of Tibullus. (Lib. ii. v. 81.)
Et succensa sacris crepitet bene laurea flammis ; Omine quo felix et sacer annus eat.
Excavations in Rome. — Rome and its neighbourhood are an immense sepulchre of ancient magnificence. The remains of ancient streets, palaces, and temples, and some of their precious ornaments, are widely spread in subterranean Rome, but for ages- concealed at the depth of from fifteen to twenty-five feet beneath the present surface. In digging for the foundations of a new building, or forming a conduit for a new fountain, or for simple curiosity penetratingthrough the accumulation of ruins and rubbish,, which raises the level of the modern above that of the ancient city; the progress of the workm«n is continually impeded by massy ruins. In some places, the ruins of regal or republican are the foundation of imperial Rome, and these in their turn the founda- tions of middle-aged, or modern Rome. In the excavations made by the late Duchess of Devonshire, about ten years ago, in the Forum, the successive generations of this, if not immortal, at least ever-reviving city, are still clearly discernible, and present to the mind of the philosopher a subject of interesting meditation. Excavations of research and curiosity have been prosecuted with success during the year 1824, by several spirited individuals,, among whom it is pleasing to iind the names of two Roman ladies of high rank. Those undertaken on the Aurelian way, by the Prin- cess Doria, have been already noticed ; those conducted under
VOL. I. 2 E
398 Memorie Romane.
the direction of the Marchioness Massimi, in the garden of the Villa Negroni, have been successfnl ; a house similar to those at Pompei, has been bared ; and besides some curious statues and fragments of smaller value, an ancient mosaic pavement, of a beautiful design, has been discovered. The researches made at the Circus of Caracalla, or rather of Maxentius, by the Duke of Bracciano, are employing the pen of Nibby, and of Count Velo, in the Thermae of Antoninus, have been already remune- rated by the discovery of precious marbles, numismatics, and mosaics. The least advantage attending enterprises of this dis- cription is the satisfaction of gra'^ifying a liberal curiosity, and of contributing to the elucidation of roman antiquities, (pp. 8. 93.) Fine Arts. — NotAvithstanding the heavy loss which the arts sustained by the death of Canova, they not only continue to flourish in Rome, but seem to have received an additional impulse from that event, in the encouragement, emulation, and exertions of his disciples. The year 1824 has been fruitful in sculptural merit. Great commendations are bestowed on Finelli's Danzatrici, a group of three figures ; on the pathetic monument of the Mellerio family, by De Fabris, author of Milo ; on D'Este's semi colossal statue of Titus Livius ; on Achilles weeping over the dead body of Patroclus, and swearing to avenge his death, a basso-relievo of Laboureur ; and Paris and Helen resolving on their flight from Sparta, a group of the natural size, by the same artist ; besides several other performances of great merit. Cavalier Thorwaldson is advancing in the stupendous statues of Christ and the Apostles, destined to adorn the cathedral of his native city, Copenhagen ; and has commenced the tomb of Pope Pius VII. for the church of St. Peter, according to the last will of Cardinal Gonsalvi. This celebrated sculptor has lately completed two bass-reliefs, under the patronage of the Duke of Devonshire, which cannot fail to add to his reputation. The subjects are two of the most eventful scenes of the Iliad ; and, by the genius of the sculptor, bring to the imagination the whole subject of the poem. In the first, Achilles resigns Briseis to the heralds of Agamemnon, and calls them to witness his oath, that,
" Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain. Though prostrate Greece should bleed at every vein."
In the second, Priam, prostrate at the feet of Achilles, supplicates for the dead body of Hector. The first is an exact representation, in marble, of Homer's description ; in the second, the sculptor has deviated from the description of the poet, by introducing Alcimus, Automedon, Isaeus, and the presents, in addition to Acnilles and Priam. This deviation from the original has been censured by
Memorie Romane. 399
some severe critics. The reviewer, Louvery, (p. 20,) in his description of these marbles, defends the sculptor, and observes, " that the author has invented the group with so much skill, executed it with such a masterly hand, and produced by it an effect so natural and pathetic, that it would be very difficult to bring a work nearer to perfection." Thonvaldson's ideas of these two pieces have been long conceived, and communicated to the public by engravings ; but the works themselves have only just received the last touch from his hand. They form an elegant pair, each about eight feet long, by three feet six inches broad.
The paintings which most attract the applause of the compilers of the Memorie, are Camuccini's large picture of Regulus going on board the vessel, which is to convey him back to Carthage; and Silvagni's Eneas, in the conflagration of Troy ; two bold and successful efforts of historical painting, in the heroic style of the Roman school, (pp. 3. 38.) We understand that Camuccini's Regulus is expected soon to appear in London.
Necrology for 1824. — ^\Ve are glad to observe that this is the most scanty article in the Memorie. It contains only one notice, a biographical sketch of Tommaso Piroli, the engraver, who lately died at Rome. He was born at Rome, in the year 1750. He devoted himself early to the art of drawing, and engraving designs for his father, who was a goldsmith. His taste soon disapproved of the affected and capricious manner which had come into vogue during the early part of the last century, and strove successfully to revive the true and natural style of engraving. His works, some of which are in the line, others in the aqua fortis manner, are very numerous, and well known. His first publications were engravings of Massaccio's paintings, in the churches of Florence. In 1789, appeared his antiques of Herculaneum and Pompei; and in 1794, the works which he executed for Lady Hamilton and Canova ; soon after, he published, in rapid succession, the principal scenes of the Iliad and Odyssey, the Greek tragedians, Dante and Ossian, and the monuments of Villa Albani and Villa liorghesi ; in 1796, and succeeding years, he produced the Life of Jesus Christ, in a series of engravings, from the paintings of the best masters ; the Last Judgment, the Prophets and Sybils of Michael Angelo, and the principal works of Raffaelle, in the palace of the Vatican. During the disturbed state of Rome, which succeeded the French invasion, he resided three years at Paris, where he published, in three volumes, the monuments of the Napoleon Museum, great part of the Sommariva Gallery, the Napoleonide of Petrini, and other works. Piroli's industry was indefatigable ; and continual practice gave him great facility and rapidity of execution. He often said, that an engraving must be
2e2
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done quickly to be done well. " Quello che nelV arte mia non si fa presto, non si fa bene." He was also well skilled in music and poetry. His religious, moral, and social qualities, endeared him to a numerous circle of friends, among whom were Cardinal Gonsalvi, Cardinal Spina, Canova, Camuccini, Flaxman, Ottley, Angelica Kauffiiian, Piranesi, and many others. While his health continued, several artists met once a week, each proposing a design ; that which was most approved of by the majority of the company was engraved by Piroli. The catalogue of his works exhibits a list of above twelve hundred engravings. His health had been on the decline for the last six or seven years ; a subsequent paralytic stroke disabled him from the exercise of his art ; and a disorder of the liver and disury, rendered his latter days a course of continual suffering. He died at Rome on the 22d of March, 1824, and was buried in the church of St. Andrea della Valle His son follows the same profession, (p. 26.)
The articles of the Memorie are in general well written, but their arrangement is susceptible of improvement, which will pro- bably be attended to in the future volumes. One of the most pleasing features of the present volume is the urbanity of the Roman literati, and the good temper with which they criticise and controvert each other's opinions. The only exception, which we have noticed in the whole volume, occurs in a French letter, added as an appendix, written by Monsieur Champollion, the hieroglyphist, in reply to Professor Lanci's objections, to the newly-invented system of interpreting the Egyptian symbols. It breathes an asperity, we had almost said, rancour, which might well have been spared.
Art. IX. — Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, Esq. F.R.S. Secretary to the Admiralty in the Reigns of Charles IT. and James II., comprising his Diary from 1659 to 1669, deciphered by the Rev. John Smith, A.B. of St John's College, Cambridge, from y the original short-hand MS. in the Pepysian Library, and a Selection from his Private Correspondence. Edited by Richard, Lord Braybrooke. Henry Colburn, New Burlington-street. Two vols. 4to. 1825.
Samuel Pepys was descended from a younger branch of a family of that name, which settled at Cottenham, in Cambridgeshire, sometime in the fifteenth century. His birth was humble, for his father, John Pepys, was no more than a citizen and tailor in London, who retired in his latter days to a small property, (a
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rental of forty pounds per year,) which he inherited from an elder brother, at Brampton, in Huntingdonshire, and died there in 1680. His wife's name was Margaret She died in 1666-7, having had issue six sons and five daughters. Of these Samuel, the eldest surviving son, and author of the Diary, was bom in 1632. He was educated at St. Paul's school, whence, in 1650, he was about to be transferred as a Sizar to Trinity College, Cambridge ; but, before he came into residence, he was offered and accepted the preferable appointment of a Scholarship at Magdalen College. Of his Academical career no traces have been preserved. One thing, however, is evident, that it was by no means of long continuance, since in October, 1655, he married a Somersetshire lady, Eliza- beth St. Michel. There is good reason to suppose that this was a match of ardent attachment ; not only from the early age at which it was contracted, (Mrs. Pepys being only sixteen,) but from the ultra-uxorious and hyper-enamoured tone with which his Iddy is always mentioned by him. For this enduring fondness it is not probable that she was much indebted to her personal attrac- tions otherwise than in her husband's eyes : at least if we may be allowed to form a judgment from the portraiture exhibited in the volume before us ; wherein the artist, after exhibiting her, above, with a leer, bespeaking far other hopes than those of virgin mar- tyrdom, has furnished her, below^ with the attributes of St. Catherine, a palm branch and a spiked wheel. But such was the fashion of the day, and perhaps it was a shade better than that of tlie oranges, the crooks, and the lambkins, which graced the family pictures of the succeeding generation.
Mr. Pepys had a relation of no small celebrity in English history ; Sir Edward Montagu, afterwards Earl of Sandwich, was his cousin, and, under his roof, the young couple, though in what capacity it is not easy to say, found a refuge from the conse- quences of their imprudence. It is probable, however, from an entry in the Diary, in 1666-7, that their condition was not very elevated : —
" Feb. 25. Lay long in bed, talking with pleasure with my poor wife,' how she used to make coal fires, and wash my foul clothes with her own hand for me, poor wretch ! in our little room at my Lord Sand- wich's ; for which I ought for ever to love and admire her, and do ; •and persuade myself she would do the same thing again, if God should reduce us to it." — p. 21, vol. ii.
While under this protection Mr. Pepys was successfully cut for the stone. In 1658, he accompanied his patron on the expedition with which Richard Cromwell intrusted him to the North Seas, and on his return he was employed as a clerk in some Office of the Exchequer connected with the pay of the army.
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From this point the Diary begins ; and, while it lasts, we shall permit its amusing author, as much as possible, to tell his own story in his own words. Few men appear to have walked the highways of the world with such widely gaping ears as Pepys ; fewer still have thought it worth while to record both the great and little news which flowed into them with such indis- criminating impartiality. The times, however, in which he lived were deeply interesting ; and perhaps a journalist more fastidious in his taste, or more correct in his judgment, might have rejected many particulars which have been gorged by the helluonism of Pepys' all-devouring curiosity and credulity ; and which, from the impossibility of obtaining them from any other source, bear a far greater value now than they could merit at the time in which they were first treasured up. The great facts of History are easily trans- mitted to posterity ; they are engraven on brass and marble, and there is small chance of their decay ; but fashion and manners are of more thin and subtile essence ; " dipp'd in the rainbow and trick'd off in air," they perish and are forgotten with the generation to which they owe their birth. We are, therefore, quite as much pleased with Mr. Pepys when he acquaints us with the cut of his own " suit with great skirts," or the ♦'linen petticoat of Lady Castlemaine laced with rich lace at the bottom," as when he unravels the iniquitous labyrinth of official policy in which the Ministers of the heartless, profligate, and unthinking Charles involved their master.
The history of the Diary, as edited by Lord Braybrooke, is plainly this. — During ten years of his life, Pepys wrote down in short-hand a daily register of every event of his life. These MSS., forming six closely written volumes, were bequeathed by him, among his other collections, to Magdalen College, Cambridge, where they have remained unnoticed, till the present Master placed them in the hands of the Rev. John Smith, of St. John's College, who undertook to decipher them. The matter on many accounts demanded material curtailment, and this task, together with that of appending a few illustrative notes, has been executed by the noble owner of Audley-end in a spirit which would gladden the heart of Pepys if he could find opportunity to see it. — A richer specimen of the magnificence of aristocratical typography has rarely fallen under our notice.
On the 1st of January, 1659-60, Mr. and Mrs. Pepys, and their servant Jane, were living in Axe Yard, and he opened the year by dining at home with his wife, in the garret, where she dressed the remains of a turkey, and in doing so burned her hand. The Kingdom was now agitated by uncertainty as to the point to which the movements of General Monk were directed, and the daily
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notices which Mr. Pepys records of the fluctuation of public opinion, give a lively picture of the anxiety with which men's ininds were beset.
On the 22d, he began to put buckles to his shoes, and four days afterwards he gave a very good dinner, got ready by his wife at Sir Edward Montagu's lodgings. The bill of fare was sub- stantial, considering that the company did not exceed twelve ; it consisted of a dish of marrow-bones, a leg of mutton, a loin of veal, a dish of fowl, three pullets, and a dozen of larks, all in a dish, a great tart, a neat's tongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of prawns, and cheese. The belief of the party was that Monk would absolutely concur with the Parliament.
Amid the roasting of rumps, as figurative of the people's hatred against the Parliament, Monk entered London about the middle of February. On the night of the 11th, thirty-one fires were visible at Strand-bridge, "all burning, roasting, and drinking for Rumps." Ludgate-hill looked like a lane of flame, and was almost too hot to be passable. The greatness and suddenness of the change were almost beyond imagination. The King was in every man's heart and on most men's lips, and that which had been treason but a few weeks before now was the very height of loyalty. The Coun- cil of State, which assumed the reins of government, appointed Sir Edward Montagu, General at sea, and Pepys was named his secretary. On the 23d of March he embarked, though as yet uncertain either of the destination of the fleet or of Monk's final intention. One day it was rumoured that he aimed at supreme power for himself; on the next, it was •' talked high, that the Lord Protector would come in again." Now, that the Par- liament had voted that the Covenant should be printed, and hung up once more in churches, and soon after that crowds had as- sembled in the Royal Exchange, and had shouted " God bless King Charles the Second."
Monk's impenetrability is well known, and Sir Edward Mon- tagu, perhaps, was as little acquainted as Pepys himself with the full scope of the General's views. But the command of the fleet placed considerable power in Montagu's hands ; he could not be blind to the temper of the people, who now, throughout the King- dom, were ripe for the restoration of Monarchy, and hostile to every other scheme of government ; and had Monk wavered from his attachment to the House of Stuart he might, perhaps, have met with a dangerous opponent in the Admiral, whom he had con- tributed to bring back to power, and who already, for some months past, without his privity, had been in correspondence with the Royal exile. " I perceive," says Pepys while lying on shipboard, •• that he (Montagu) is willing to do all the honour in the world to Monk, and to let him have all the honour of doing the business.
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though he will many times express his thoughts of him to be but a thick-skulled fool."
In the beginning of May, every thing in the fleet bespoke the near approach of the great event. The seamen shouted, and drank for the King, the chaplains prayed for him, and Montagu wrote for silk flags, scarlet waistcloathes, a rich barge, a noise of trumpets, and a set of fiddlers. Carpenters pulled down the State's arms, and painters set up those of the King ; tailors cut out pieces of yellow cloth in the shape of C. R. and a crown ; and the harp, which was very offensive to the King, was removed from the flags. " Mr. John Pickering came on board like an asse, ■with his feathers and new suit," and money and clothes were sent on shore for the King, who was in a sad poor condition for the want of both. So joyful was he at the arrival of the money, that he called the Princess Royal and the Duke of York to look upon it as it lay in the portmanteau before it was taken out. On the 23d, he came on board from the Hague, and the Nazeby having been re- christened the Charles, set sail for England with her royal burden.
" All the afternoon the King walked here and there, up and down (quite contrary to what I thought him to have been) very active and stirring. Upon the quarter-deck he fell into discourse of his escape from Worcester, where it made me ready to weep to hear the stories that he told of his difficulties that he had passed through, as his travel- ling four days and three nights on foot, every step up to his knees in dirt, with nothing but a green coat and a pair of country breeches on, and a pair of country shoes that made him so sore all over his feet, that he could scarce stir. Yet he was forced to run away from a miller and other company, that took them for rogues. His sitting at table at one place, where the master of the house, that had not seen him in eight years, did know him, but kept it private ; when at the same table there was one that had been of his own regiment at Worcester, coidd not know him, but made him drink the King's health, and said that the King was at least four fingers higher than he. At another place he was by some servants of the house made to drink, that they might know he was not a Roundhead, which they swore he was. In another place at his inn, the master of the house, as the King was standing with his hands upon the back of a chair by the fire-side, kneeled down and kissed his hand, privately, saying, that he would not ask him who he was, but bid God bless him whither he was going. Then the difficul- ties in getting a boat to get into France, where he was fain to plot with the master thereof to keep his design from the foreman and a boy (which was all the ship's company,) and so get lo Fecamp in France. At Rouen he looked so poorly, that the people went into the rooms before he went away to see whether he had not stole something or other." — pp. 50-51, vol. i.
Sir Edward Montagu received the Garter immediately on the conclusion of this important service, which as it was the com-
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mencement of his honours, so also does it seem to have laid the foundation of Pepys' fortune; since, on casting up his accounts on the 3d of June, he found himself, to his great joy, worth nearly one hundred pounds, when, on his going to sea, he was not already worth twenty-five pounds, exclusive of his house and goods. To his patron, the Garter was succeeded by the Master- ship of the Wardrobe, the Clerkship of the Privy Seal, and the Earldom of Sandwich. Pepys himself, in order to be outwardly ready for promotion, established a fine camlet cloak with gold buttons, and a silk suit, which cost him much money, and also a jackanapes coat, with silver buttons. In this array he received his patent as Clerk of the Acts to the Navy Office ; in executing the duties of which appointment he soon received a lesson from the Lord Chancellor, who " did give me his advice privately how to order things, to get as much money as we can out of the Par- liament."
This advice, as we learn hereafter, was not thrown away, for, at the breaking out of the Dutch war in 1664, Pepys honestly con- fesses that the Liord Treasurer, Sir Philip Wanvick, and himself, laid their heads together, studying all they could " to make the last year swell as high as they could. And it is much to see how he (the Lord Treasurer) do study for the King, to do it to get all the money from the Parliament he can : and I shall be serviceable to him therein, to help him to heads upon which to enlarge the report of the expence." — Again, next day, " Sir G. Carteret was here this afternoon ; and, strange to see, how we plot to make the charge of this war to appear greater than it is, be- causeof getting money." Furthermore to the same purpose two days afterwards. " At my Office all the morning, to prepare an account of the charge we have been put to extraordinary by the Dutch already ; and I have brought it to appear 852,700?. ; but God knows this is only a scare to the Parliament, to make them give the more money." That an underling in office who had laudably resolved to rise at any rate should lend his hand to transactions like these, has nothing in it extraordinary. The point which astounds us is this, that the man who had sufficient knavery to commit the act, should have sufficient sincerity to record it. After all, perhaps, he considered this barefaced roguery as no other than a high pro- fessional merit, and a distinguished proof of loyalty.
On the 25th of August, Pepys put on the first velvet coat and cap that ever he had ; on the 30th, Mrs. Pepys wore black patches for the first time since her marriage. These appear to have been very becoming to her, for soon aftenvards we read that, standing with two or three of them on her face, and, being well dressed, in the Queen's Presence chamber, near to the Princess Henrietta, (who was very pretty,) " she did seem to me much handsomer than she."
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On the 22d of September, Pepys bought a" pair of short black stockings to wear over a pair of silk ones, in mourning for the Duke of Gloucester, who died of the small-pox, •* by the great negligence of the doctors." A few days after he did send for a cup of tea, (a China drink,) of which he never had drank before.
The Duke of York's marriage was now declared, in spite of Sir Charles Barkeley's false and impudent declaration, that he and others had often intrigued with the Duchess. " She is a plain woman," says Pepys, " and like her mother, the Lady Chancellor." Upon whom the King's nuptial choice was likely to fall, was still a matter of most uncertain speculation, though rumour had long since married him to a niece of the Prince de Ligne, who was said to have borne him two sons. A year had scarcely elapsed since the Restoration, but the debauched spirit of his Court had had ample time to display itself " Thus they," continues Pepys, " are in a very ill condition, there being so much emulation, poverty, and the vice of drinking, swearing, and loose amours there ; I know not what will be the end of it but confusion." The King's unhappy connection with Mrs. Palmer, (whose husband had been bribed to his own dishonour, by the Earldom of Castlemaine,) had already become so notorious, that the Duchess of Richmond, falling out with her one day, did not scruple publicly to call her Jane Shore, and to hope that she might come to the same end. Nevertheless, so great was the influence of the favourite, that even after the Por- tuguese match had been completed, and Queen Katherine was already off the English coast. Lady Castlemaine insolently de- clared her intention of going to lie in at Hampton Court ; and during the week before the bride's public entrance, the King dined and supped every evening at his mistress's apartments.
Lord Sandwich had the honour of convoying the Queen from Lisbon, Soon after her arrival, although she objected to Lady Castlemaine's presence at Court, and requested the King to accede to her request, of " pricking her out of the list presented to her," she gained nothing by her prayers, save that " the King was angry, and the Queen discontented, (naturally enough,) a whole day and night upon it." Pepys had a good opportunity of comparing the pretensions of the two ladies on the day on which the Queen came to Hampton Court, and whether it was, that preferment had im- bued him with the feelings of a courtier, or that his natural love of beauty prevailed over his high sense of conjugal duties, it is plain enough that he inclined from the injured spouse to the naughty beloved : —
" Anon come the King and Queene in a barge under a canopy with 1000 barges and boats I know, for we could see no water for them, nor discern the King nor Queene. And so they landed at White Hall Bridge, and the great guns on the other side went off. But that which
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pleased me best was, that my Lady Castlemaine stood over against us upon a piece of White Hall. But methought it was strange to see her Lord and her upon the same place walking up and down without taking notice one of another, only at first entry he put off his hat, and she made him a very civil salute, but afterwards took no notice one of another; but both of them now and then would take their child, which the nurse held in her armes, and dandle it. One thing more ; there happened a scaffold below to fall, and we feared some hurt, but there was none, but she of all the great ladies only run down among the common rabble to see what hurt was done, and did take care of a child that received some little hurt, which methought was so noble. Anon there come one there booted and spurred that she talked long with. And by and by, she being in her haire, she put on his hat, which was but an ordinary one, to keep the wind off. But it become her mightily, as everything else do." — pp. 161-2, vol. i.
" Meeting Mr. Pierce, the chyrurgeon, he took me into Somerset House ; and there carried me into the Queene-Mother's presence-cham- ber, where she was with our own Queene sitting on her left hand (whom I did never see before) ; and though she be not very charming, yet she hath a good, modest, and innocent look, which is pleasing. Here I also saw Madam Castlemaine, and, which pleased me most, Mr. Crofts,* the king's bastard, a most pretty sparke of about fifteen years old, who, I perceive, do hang much upon my Lady Castlemaine, and is always with her ; and, I hear, the Queenes both are mighty kind to him. By and by in comes the King, and anon the Duke and his duchesse ; so that, they being all together, was such a sight as I never could almost have happened to see with so much ease and leisure. They staid till it was dark, and then went away ; the King and his Queene, and my Lady Castlemaine and young Crofts, in one coach, and the rest in other coaches. Here were great stores of great ladies, but very few handsome. The King and Queene were very merry ; and he would have made the Queene-Mother believe that his Queene was with child, and said that she said so. And the young Queene an- swered, *' You lye ;" which was the first English word that I ever heard her say : which made the King good sport ; and he would have made her say in English, " Confess and be hanged." — pp. 164-5, vol. i.
Pepys was one of those sedate and surefooted personages, who never lose sight of utility even in their relaxations ; and a morning visit or a dinner party was a certain source of intellec- tual acquirement to him. Dr. Thomas Fuller told him one day, more of his own family than he knew himself, and assured him that he had brought the art of memory to such perfection, that he did lately to four eminent scholars dictate together in Latin,
• James, son of Charles II. by Mrs. Lucy Waters; who bore the name of Crofts till he was created Duke of Monmouth in 1662, previously to his marriage with Lady Anne Scot, daughter to Francis Earl of Buccleugh.
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upon different subjects of their proposing, faster than they were able to write, till they were tired ; moreover, he communicated a secret, which must be invaluable to an Aberdeen physician, or to a Cambridge Moderator, (we intend no unseemly comparison,) that the best way of beginning a sentence, if a man should be out and forget his Latin, (" which I," observes Fuller, " never was,") if driven to his last refuge, is to begin with an utcunque. On another occasion, at table at my Lord Mayor's, when Pepys wore his black silk suit, (for the first time, in the year 1661,) and where there was a great deal of honourable company, and great entertainment, Mr. Ashmole did assure him, and Pepys readily believed, that frogs and many insects do often fall from the sky ready formed. Dr. Williams, who took him one day for a walk in his garden, did show him a dog that he had, which did kill all the cats that came thither to kill his pigeons, and did afterwards bury them ; and did it with so much care that they should be quite covered, that if the tip of the tail hung over, he would take up the cat again and dig the hole deeper, " which is very strange ; and he tells me, that he do believe he hath killed above a hundred cats." Dining once with Lord Crewe, Mr. Templer (an in- genious man, and a person of honour, and a great traveller,) " dis- coursing of the nature of serpents, he told us some in the waste places of Lancashire do groAv to a great bigness, and do feed upon larkes, which they take thus : — They observe when the lark is soared to the highest, and do crawl till they come to be just underneath them ; and there they place themselves with their mouth uppermost, and there, as is conceived, they do eject poy- son upon the bird ; for the bird so suddenly come down again in its course of circle, and falls directly into the mouth of the ser- pent ; which is very strange." Captain Minnes, in a yalk be- tween Greenwich and Woolwich, affirmed to him, that drowned negroes became white ; and his brother. Sir John, good- naturedly resolved one of his doubts, why there were no boars seen in London, but so many sows and pigs, by reply- ing that " the constable gets them a-nights." Furthermore Dr. Whistler told him a pretty story related by Muffet, " a good author, of Dr. Cayus that built Cains College; that being very old, and living only at that time upon woman's milk, he, while he fed upon the milk of an angry fretful woman, was so him- self; and then being advised to take it of a good-natured patient woman, he did become so beyond the common temper of his age."
Lady Chesterfield, Miss Wells, and Miss Warmistre, next appear upon the scene : and the sage and steady Pepys is a strong corroborator of the veracity of the lighter Historian of
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their gallantries. Of La belle Stwart, he gives the following account : —
" Hearing that the King and Queene are rode abroad with the Ladies of Honor to the Parke, and seeing a great crowd of gallants staying here to see their return, I also staid walking up and down. By and by the King and Queene, who looked in this dress (a white laced waiscoate and a crimson short pettycoate, and her hair dressed a la negligence) mighty pretty ; and the king rode hand in hand with her. Here was also my Lady Castlemaine rode among the rest of the ladies ; but the King took, methought, no notice of her ; nor when she light, did any body press (as she seemed to expect, and staid for it) to take her down, but was taken down by her own gentleman* She looked mighty out of humour, and had a yellow plume in her hat, (which all took notice of,) and yet is very handsome, but very melan- choly : nor did any body speak to her, or she so much as smile or speak to any body. I followed them up into White Hall, and into the Queene's presence, where all the ladies walked, talking and fiddling with their hats and feathers, and changing and trying one another's by one another's heads, and laughing. But it was the finest sight to me, considering their great beautys and dress, that ever I did see in all my life. But, above all, Mrs. Stewart in this dresse, with her hat cocked and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman nose, and excellent taille, is now the greatest beauty I ever saw, I think, in my life ; and, if ever woman can, do exceed my Lady Castlemaine, at least in this dress : nor do I wonder if the King changes, which 1 verily believe is the reason of his coldness to my Lady Castlemaine." —p. 238, vol. i.
Such being the dissoluteness of the times, it is no matter of wonder, that Mrs. Pepys herself, should occasionally feel sus- picious of the well-dressed gentleman, upon whom she had be- stowed her hand: and indeed his marked attentions to her maid, Mrs. Mercer, are not quite explicable even according to his own account of them. Those who have been initiated in the mys- teries which the parts of this Diary modestly concealed in the obscurity of the Spanish tongue are said to involve, may, per- haps, be able to set its due value on Mrs. Mercer's reputa- tion : —
"Thence home; and to sing with my wife and Mercer in the gar- den ; and coming in I find my wife plainly dissatisfied with me, that I can spend so much time with Mercer, teaching her to sing, and could never take the pains with her. Which I acknowledge ; but it is because that the girl do take musick mighty readily, and she do not, and musick is the thing of the world that I love most, and all the pleasure almost that I can now take. So to bed in some little discontent, but no words from me. — ^p. 436, vol. i.
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" After dinner with my wife and Mercer to the Beare-garden ; where I have not been, I think, of many years, and saw some good sport of the bull's tossing of the dogs: one into the very boxes. But it is a very rude and nasty pleasure. We had a great many hectors in the same box with us, (and one very fine went into the pit, and played his dog for a wager, which was a strange sport for a gentle- man,) where they drank wine, and drank Mercer's health first ; which I pledged with my hat off. We supped at home, and very merry. And then about nine o'clock to Mrs. Mercer's gate, where the fire and boys expected us, and her son had provided abundance of serpents and rockets ; and there mighty merry, (my Lady Pen and Pegg going thither with us, and Nan Wright,) till about twelve at night, flinging our fireworks, and burning one another and the people over the way. And at last our businesses being most spent, we in to Mrs. Mercer's, and there mighty merry, smutting one another with candle-grease and soot, till most of us were like devils. And that being done, then we broke up, and to my house ; and there I made them drink, and up- stairs we went, and then fell into dancing, (W. Batelier dancing well,) and dressing him and I and one Mr. Banister (who with my wife come over also with us) like women ; and Mercer put on a suit of Tom's, like a boy, and mighty mirth we had, and Mercer danced a jigg ; and Nan Wright and my wife and Pegg Pen put on perriwigs. Thus we spent till three or four in the morning, mighty merry ; and then parted, and to bed. Mighty sleepy ; slept till past eight of the clock."— pp. 36, 38, vol. i.
Not long after^vards, we find Mrs. Pepys proceeding to manual violence against the too attractive Mercer, so she went away, " which," says Pepys, " troubled me."
The Queen about this time fell so ill, that she was scarcely ex- pected to live, and the effect of her attack upon different indi- viduals, according to their respective situations, is whimsically described. Mr. Mills, the chaplain, not having ascertained whether she was dead or alive, did not know whether to pray for her or not, and so said nothing about her. The King appeared fondly disconsolate and wept by her, which made her weep also, which did her good, by carrying off some rheume from the head ; yet, for all that he seemed to take it so much to heart, he never missed one night since she was sick of supping with Lady Castle- maine. As for Pepys himself, being waked with a very high wind, he said to his wife, " Pray God, I hear not of the death of any great person, the wind is so high ;" and straightway, learning that she was worse again, he sent to stop the making of his velvet cloak, till he heard whether she lived or died. The counter-order of this cloak, however, had become a necessary piece of economy, for the expenses of his wardrobe had of late increased to a fearful extent : —
Pepys' Memoirs. 411
" To my great sorrow find myself 43/. worse than I was the last month, which was then 700Z. and now it is but 717/. But it hath chiefly arisen from my layings-out in clothes for myself and wife ; viz. for her about 12/. and for myself 55/., or thereabouts; having made myself a velvet cloak, two new cloth skirts, black, plain both ; a new jhag gown, trimmed with gold buttons and twist, with a new hat, and silk tops for my legs, and many other things, being resolved hencefor- ward to go like myself. And also two perriwigs, one whereof costs me 3/. and the other 40s. I have worn neither yet, but will begin next week, God willing." — p. 257, vol. i.
And yet a few Sundays following, he ventures to bedizen him- felf in still gayer costume : —
" Lord's-day. This morning I put on my best black cloth suit, trimmed with scarlett ribbon, very neat, with my cloak lined with vel- vett, and a new beaver, which altogether is very noble, with my black silk knit canons I bought a month ago." — p. 265, vol. i.
This diligent attention to the proprieties of the outer man in himself, led, as might naturally be expected, to a nice observation of them in others. We are not surprised, therefore, that in a visit to the Lord Treasurer, whom he found in his bed-chamber laid up with the gout, and Avhom he thought a very ready man, and a brave servant to the King, speaking quick and sensibly of the King's charge ; he yet was not altogether satisfied. He was it seems displeased with " his long nails, which he let grow upon a pretty, thick, white, short hand, that it troubled me to see them." Yet if there be any Ministerial personage in whom such excrescences are defensible, surely it is the one who fills this post of vigilance and cumulation. We have always believed that the crooked-talon'd monsters, who are fabled to protect the " guarded gold" from the furtive attempts of the Arimaspians, were no other than allegorical of a Lord Treasurer ; and we have read a description elsewhere, which depicts that high Officer to the very life : —
" An uncouth, salvage, and uncivil wight
Of grisly hew, and foul, unfavour'd sight ; His face with smoak was tann'd, and eyes were blear'd.
His head and beard with sout were ill bedight, His coal-black hands did seem to have been seer'd In Smith's fire-spetting forge, and nailes like daws appeared."
Pepys now began a practice which saved him both time and money, and pleased him mightily, to trim himself with a razor. In a spirit of extraordinary liberality, he gave his wife's brother, who was going into Holland to seek his fortune, ten shillings and a coat that he had by him, a close-bodied light-coloured cloth
412 Pepys' JMf(?moirs,
coat, with a gold edging in each seam. True it is, that his weW- starred brother-in-law might plead some little family claim to this reversionary vestment, for the lace was the lace of Mrs. Pepys' best petticoat, when Mr. Pepys married her. At the moment in which he dispensed this magnificent bounty, he had, according to his own showing, two tierces of claret, two quarter casks of Canary, a smaller vessel of sack, a vessel of tent, another of Madeira, and another of white wine, all in his cellar together ; besides which goodly store, interiorls notce, he had in the current year raised his estate fromlSOOZ. to 4400?., increased his interest, and added to his former employments, the Treasurership of Tangier and the Secretaryship of the Victualling Board.
It was in May, 1665, that reports of the Plague began to prevail in London ; on the 7th of July, Pepys first saw two or three infected houses in Drury-lane, marked with a red cross, and " liOrd have mercy upon us," on the doors. In the second Aveek of July a solemn fast was ordered, and more than 700 persons died of Plague ; before the close of the month the number in- creased to 1700 in the week ; on the 10th of August to 3000. A proclamation was issued that all persons should be within doors by nine at night, in order that the sick might then be at liberty to go abroad for air. The simple and homely words of Pepys convey a stronger impression of the horror of the time than could be drawn from a more elaborate narrative. "But, Lord! how every body looks, and discourse in the street is of death and nothing else, and few people going up and down, that the town is like a place distressed and forsaken." Again, (for his love of dress mingles itself even with his feelings of terror,) " Sept. 3rd. Lord's-day. Up ; and put on my coloured silk suit very fine and my new periwigg, bought a good while since, but durst not wear it, because the Plague was in Westminster when I bought it ; and it is a wonder what will be the fashion after the Plague is done, as to periwiggs, for no body will dare to buy any haire, for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off the heads of people dead of the Plague." pp. 363-4, vol. i.
In the middle of September, the weekly return of deaths by Plague, am.ounted to 7165 ; by the last week in December, it decreased to 333 ; and such had been the suspension of inter- course in families, that Pepys learnt, for the first time, (like Ben in the play, " Dick, body o' one Dick has been dead these two years. - I writ ye word when ye were at Leghorn,") that his Aunt Betsy, and some children of his Cousin Sarah, had been dead of the Plague for seven Aveeks past. The extravagances of despair which have been described as prevailing both in Athens and in Florence, while suffering under similar infection, did not attain
Pepys' Memoirs. 41^
the same height in London; nevertheless, strange to say, people were bold enough to go in sport " to one another's funerals," (he omits to inform us, how this could happen to the one who was first buried,) "and in spite, too, the people would breath in the faces, out of their windows, of well people going by."
The scourge of Pestilence was followed closely by that of Fire, to which, however, succeeding generations are, doubtless, mainly indebted for the extermination of its predecessor. Pepys' account of the burning of London is far beneath that given by his friend and contemporary Evelyn, but parts of it may be admitted as a companion picture. On the first night (Sept. 1) above three hun- dred houses were burned down ; on the morning thelCing despatch- ed "Pepys to the Lord Mayor with orders not to spare any houses, but to pull down before the flames everyway. The chief magistrate had been up all night, and was exhausted ; his answer was truly civic, "Lord! what can I do? I am spent; people will not obey rae. I have been pulling down houses ; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it;" and he walked home to refresh himself. Towards evening Pepys went upon the river, —
" So near the fire as we could for smoke ; and all over the Thames, with one's faces in the wind, you were almost burned with a shower of fire-drops. This is very true : so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay, five or six houses, one from another. When we could endure no more upon the water, we to a little ale-house on the bankside, over against the Three Cranes, and there staid till it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow, and as it grew darker, appeared more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the city, in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire. Barbary and her husband away before us. We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long : it made me weep to see it. The churches, houses, and all on fire, and flaming at once ; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruine." — p. 481, vol. i.
I*^ was not until the night of the 4th that the progress of the flames was at all checked, and then by blowing up houses. The people were more frightened by this at first, than by the fire itself: but the experiment succeeded admirably, for it brought down the houses to the ground in the same place on which they stood, and it was then very easy to quench what little fire re- mained in them. Pepys had suggested the propriety of sending up the workmen from the yards of Deptford and Woolwich ; ana the arrival of that active and powerful body of men proved emi
VOL. I. 2 F
414 Pepys' Memoirs.
nently serviceable. We need not dwell upon the wide waste which this memorable visitation created. It may be summed up in tlie bibliopolish figure used by Dean Harding (or Hardy), on the Sunday following, in a sermon which Pepys thought bad, poor, and by no means eloquent : — " the city is reduced from a large folio to a decimo-tertio."
The effect produced upon poor Pepys' mind by the frightful scenes which he had witnessed, seems to have been most distressing. He had conveyed his money to the house of a friend, out of reacli of the flames, but it Avas exposed to an equal danger by the reports spread abroad of the great wealth which from various quarters had been deposited in the same place. Pepys, accordingly, brought it home again in a hackney coach, and lodged it in his Office, not without vexation that all the world should see it there also ; hence he conveyed it at night, with great content, to his own cellars ; nevertheless, we hear he was much troubled in consequence of the strange workmen whom he was compelled to have coming and going to set his house in order. His rooms, however, were soon cleaned, and his wife and himself lay in their own chamber again, but " much terrified in the nights now-a- days with dreams of fire and falling down of houses." It was not until after a w-eek's growth that he had time to shave his beard, and his commemoration of this act proves that he estimated the luxury of it at its full value : " Lord ! how ugly I was yesterday, and how fine to day!" So late as the 1st of December, a cellar at the Old Swan, Tower-street, broke out afresh, being blown tip by some great winds ; it was built of logwood. The passage of the ruins for a long time after was very dangerous, not only from the heaps of smouldering rubbish, but from the harbour which they afforded to thieves. In the middle of February, of the following year, Pepys returned in a coach from Whitehall to the Navy Office, as was his " common practice," with his sword drawn.
. We must pass over many of Pepys' domestic affairs : first, his very natural anxiety about getting a husband for his sister, of which there seemed to be little probability, (although it was manifestly impolitic to waste farther time,) since she was »* growing old and ugly ;" secondly, his recovery of some gold, which had been hidden in his father's garden in the country, at the time in which his apprehensions of the Dutch invasion ran high, and his fears respecting which indiscreet deposit almost drove him mad ; next, the little rent which he got in his fine new camlet cloak, with the latch of Sir George Carteret's door, which, though darned up at his tailor's so that it -vvas no great blemish to it, nevertheless troubled him; and lastly, the misfortune which
Pepys' Memoirs. 415
befell his periwig just after he had made an agreement with his barber to keep it in good order at twenty shillings a-year, so that he Was like to go very spruce, more than he used to do. Sad to say, however, while standing with his back to a candle, to seal a letter, he did set this very perri^vig on fire, which made such an odd noise, nobody could tell what it was till they saw the flame.
All these mishaps, and many omens of like kind, were amply atoned for, by his brilliant success at the Bar of the House of Commons, in defence of the Commissioners of the Admii-alty, upon which body much blame had been thrown respecting the burning of the ships at Chatham by the Dutch. Full of thought and trouble touching the issue of the day, Pepys first went to the Dog, and drank half a pint of mulled sack ; afterwards he went into the Hall, and drank a dram of brandy at Mrs. Hewlett's, and with the warmth of this did find himself in better order as to courage, truly. It was a mighty full House, and himself and his colleagues stood at the Bar, between eleven and twelve o'clock, Avith strong appearance of prejudice against them. After the Speaker had told them the dissatisfaction of the House, and had read the Report of the Committee, Pepys began their defence most acceptably and smoothly ; and continued it without any hesitation or loss, but with full scope, and all his reason free about him, as if he had been at his own table, from that time till past three in the after- Aeon, and so ended without any interruption from the Speaker, and then withdrew. And there all his fellow officers, and all the world that was within hearing, did congratulate him, and cry up his speech as the best thing they had ever heard ; and his fellow officers were overjoyed in it. The vote of the House was post- poned for a week, but during that period, and long afterwards indeed, a full tide of praise continued to flow in, which Pepys doubtless received, as he records it, with the most becoming self- complacency : —
" Up betimes, and with Sir D. Gauden to Sir W. Coventry's cham* her ; where the first word he said to me was, " Good-morrow, Mr. Pepys, that must be Speaker of the Parliament-house :" and did pro- test I had fi^ot honour for ever in Parliament, He said that his brother, that sat by him, admires me ; and another gentleman said that I could not get less than 1000/. a-year, if I would put on a gown and plead at the Chancery bar. But, what pleases me most, he tells me that the Solicitor-generall did protest that he thought I spoke thebest of any man in England. After several talks with him alone touching his own businesses, he carried me to White Hall ; and there parted. And I to the Duke of York's lodgings, and find him going to the Parke, it being a very fine morning; and I after him : and as soon as he saw me, he told me with great satisfaction that I had converted a great many
2r2
416 Pepys' Memoirs.
yesterday, and did with great praise of me go on with the discourse with me. And by and by overtaking the King, the King and Duke of York came to me both ; and he* said, " Mr. Pepys, I am very glad of your success yesterday :" and fell to talk of my well speaking. And many of the lords there. My Lord Barkeley did cry me up for what they had heard of it ; and others, Parliament men there about the King, did say that they never heard such a speech in their lives delivered in that manner. Progers of the bedchamber swore to me afterwards before Brouncker, in the afternoon, that he did tell the King that he thought I might match the Solicitor-generall. Every body that saw me almost came to me, as Joseph Williamson and others, with such eulogys as cannot be expressed. From thence I went to Westminster Hall ; where I met Mr. G. Montagu, who came to me and kissed me, and told me that he had often heretofore kissed my hands, but now he would kiss my lips ; protestingthat I was another Cicero, and said, all the world said the same of me. Mr. Ashburnham, and every creature I met there of the Parliament, or that knew any thing of the Parlia- ment's actings, did salute me with this honour; Mr. Godolphin ; Mr. Sands, who swore he would go twenty miles at any time to hear the like again, and that he never saw so many sit four hours together to hear any man in his life as there did to hear me. Mr. Chichly, Sir John Duncomb, and every body do say that the kingdom will ring of my abilities, and that I have done myself right for my whole life ; and so Captain Cocke and others of my friends say that no man had ever such an opportunity of making his abilities known. And that I may cite all at once, Mr. Lieutenant of the Tower did tell me that Mr. Vaughan did protest to him, and that in his hearing it said so to the Duke of Albemarle, and afterwards to Sir W. Coventry, that he had sat twenty-six years in Parliament and never heard such a speech there before : for which the Lord God make me thankful ; and that I may make use of it, not to pride and vain-glory, but that, now I have this esteem, I may do nothing that may lessen it ! To White Hall to wait on the Duke of York; where he again and all the company magnified me, and several in the gallery : among others, my Lord Gerard, who never knew me before nor spoke to me, desires his being better ac- quainted with me ; and that, at table where he was, he never heard so much said of any man as of me in his whole life.
" And here I also met Colvill the goldsmith ; who tells me, with great joy, how the world upon the 'Change talks of me ; and how several Parliament-men, viz. Boscawenf and Major Walden of Hunting- don, who seems do deal with him, do say how bravely I did speak, and that the house was ready to have given me thanks for it : but that, I think, is a vanity. — pp. 205-6-7, vol. ii.
But the most gratifying compliment paid him was by the King himself, at the Council table. Some one remarked that, a particular
* The King. f Edward Boscawen, M.P. for Truro.
Pepys' Memoirs. -^7
Slan in contemplation would be objected to by the Committee of liscarriages. "Well, if it be so," Avas the King's answer, "it is then but Mr. Pepys' making of another speech to them," which made all the Lords (and there were by also the Attorney and Solicitor-general) look upon him.
At length his affairs became so prosperous, that he resolved to set up his carriage, and with very kindly feelings he permitted his wife to take the first ride in it ; afterwards he accompanied her to the Play, —
*' And so home, it being mighty pleasure to go alone with my poor wife in a coach of our own to a play, and makes us appear mighty great, I think, in the world ; at least, greater than ever I could, or my friends for me, have once expected ; or, I think, than ever any of my family ever yet lived in my memory, but my cosen Pepys in Salisbury Court."— p. 283, vol. ii.
The Diary ends on the 31st of May, 1669, when the state to which Pepys had reduced his eyes by close application, compelled him to abandon the use of short hand. We have chiefly confined ourselves to the private and domestic information contained in it, but the curious reader will find many interesting particulars rela- tive to public events, especially those connected with the naval history of the Dutch war. We shall conclude our abstract of it by a few scattered anecdotes, illustrative of the times, which would not readily arrange themselves in the narrative and biogra- phical form which we have hitherto adopted.
It is no very favourable picture of the Court, or of the personal qualities of Charles, AVhich Pepys has left us. In the merry Monarch's pleasures there was nothing of refinement, in his amours nothirrg of sentiment. The most gross sensuality and the lowest maimers appear to have established themselves in White- hall, and the boon companions, and the confidential counsellors of the King, possessed as little to recommend them in intellect as in morality. Such was the thick ignorance of his day, that when Bombay was offered by the Portuguese as part of Queen Catha- rine's dowry, " they made the King and Lord Chancellor, and other learned men about the king, believe that that, and other islands which are near it, were all one piece ; and so the draught was drawn and presented to the King, and believed by the King, and expected to prove so when our men come thither ; but it is quite otherwise." On one occasion when Charles went down to the House of Lords, Pepys heard him speak ; his note is as follows : ** He speaks the worst that ever I heard man in my life ; Avorse than if he read it all, and he had it in writing in his hand." Re- turning once from Woolwich (where he just saw and kissed his
418 Pepys' Memoirs:
■wife) in the same barge with the King and Duke of York, he had full opportunity of hearing both of them talk, and observing their manner of discourse. It is quite plain from the surprise which he expresses, that he listened with all legitimate prejudices in their favour, and that up to that moment he had cherished the right loyal belief, that they were framed of better clay than their subjects. Yet '• God forgive me" is his reflection upon them at parting, " the more a man considers and observes them, the less he finds of difference between them and other men." Again, in the Council chamber, all Pepys remarked was " the silliness of the King playing with his dog all the while, and not minding the busi- ness, and what he said was mighty weak." On the very night on which the Dutch burned the ships at Chatham, the King was in his dalliance Avith Lady Castlemaine at the Duchess of Monmouth's, " and they were all mad in hunting of a poor moth." And yet the tide of Royal love did not always run smooth ; when the Duke of Buckingham was committed to the Tower, Lady Castlemaine solicited for him so earnestly, that the King parted from her with very foul words ; he called her a jade, that meddled with things §he had nothing to do with at all, and she called him a fool, for causing his best subjects to be imprisoned, and suffering fools that did not understand them to carry on his businesses. At another time when she had quitted Whitehall, after a no less violent quarrel, she swore, that the King should own the child with which she was then enceinte, and that she would have it christened in the chapel at Whitehall, or else that she would bring it into the gallery and dash its brains out before the King's face. Nor was this in- decent and undignified familiarity with the Royal person confined to the mistress alone : there were affronts to which he was exposed from much less privileged persons : —
" The King was vexed the other day for having no paper laid for him at the Council table, as was usual ; and Sir Richard Browne did tell his Majesty he would call the person whose work it was to provide it : who being come, did tell his Majesty that he was but a poor man, and was out 4 or 500^. for it, which was as much as he is worth ; and that he cannot provide it any longer without money, having not re- ceived a penny since the King's coming in. So the King spoke to my Lord Chamberlain. And many such mementos the King do now-a-days meet withal], enough to make an ingenuous man mad." — p. 44, vol. ii.
*' After dinner comes in Mr. Townsend : and there I was witness of a horrid rateing which Mr. Ashburnham, as one of the Grooms of the King's Bedchamber, did give him for want of linen for the King's person; which he swore was not to be endured, and that the King would not endure it, and that the King his father would have hanged his Wardrobe-man should he have been served so ; the King having at
Pep ys' Memoirg, 41^
this day no hankerch^rs, and but three bands to his neck, he swore, Mr, Townsend pleaded want of money and the owing of the linen- draper 5000?. ; and that he hath of late got many rich things made, beds and sheets and saddles, without money ; and that he can go no further : but still this old man (indeed like an old loving servant) did cry out for the King's person to be neglected. But when he was gone, Townsend told me that it is the grooms taking away the King's linen at the quarter's end, as their fees, which makes this great want ; for whether the King can get it or no, they will run away at the quarter'^ end with what he hath had, let the King get more as he can." — p. 121- 2, vol. ii.
Of Pepys' admiration of his wife, we have before had occasion to speak. At a grand wedding between Nan Hartleb and Mynheer Roder, of all the beauties there she was thought the greatest. At the Play one night, she is represented as extraordinary fine in her flower' ff tabby suit, bought a year and more ago, *' before my mother's death put her into mourning, and so not worn till this day ; and every body in love with it, and indeed she is very fine and handsome." And on another night, when the King was at the Theatre with Lady Castlemaine, Mr. and Mrs. Pepys sate just under them, " and my wife, by my troth, appeared, 1 think, as pretty as any of them. I never thought so much before, and so did Talbot and W. Hewer, as they said, I heard, to one another. The King and the Duke of York mmded me and smiled upon me, at the handsome woman near me." The two following descrip* tlons deserve embodying on canvass :—
" Christmas-day. To dinner alone with my wife, who, poor wretch! sat undressed all day till ten at night, altering and lacing of a noble petticoat ; while I by her making the boy read to me the Life of Julius Caesar, and Des Cartes' book of Musick." — p. 291, vol. ii.
" My wife extraordinary fine with her flowered tabby gown that she made two years ago, now laced exceeding pretty ; and indeed was fine all over. And mighty earnest to go, though the day was very lower- ing; and she would have me put on my fine suit, which I did. And so anon we went alone through the town with our new liveries of serge, and the horses' manes and tails tied with red ribbons, and the standards thus gilt with varnish, and all clean, and green reines, that people did mightily look upon us ; and the truth is, I did not see any coach more pretty, though more gay, than ours all the day," — p. 337- 8, vol. ii.
His taste in literature was singularly formed. We find him twice buying Htidibras ,- the second time " because it is certainly some ill humour to be so against that which all the world cries up to be the example of wit : for which I am resolved once more to read him, and see whether I can find it or no." And again : " To
^ilO Pepys' Memoirs.
Paul's church yard, and there looked upon the second part of ]E[udibras, which I buy not, but borrow to read, to see if it be as good as the first, which the world cried so mightily up, though it hath not a good liking in me, though I had tried by twice or three times reading to bring myself to think it witty." Some of his dramatic judgments (for he Avas a great frequenter of the Theatres) are not less removed from the general standard of criti- cisna. The Midsummer Night's Dream he considers to be the # most insipid ridiculous Play that ever he saw in his life." Othello he always esteemed " a mighty good Play" till he had read The Adventures of Five Hours, and after that it seemed to him " a mean thing." Macbeth is " a pretty good Play," " a most excellent Play for variety," and "a most excellent Play in all respects, but especially in divertisement, though it be a deep Tra- gedy ; which is a strange perfection in a Tragedy, it being more proper here and suitable." The Merry Wives of Windsor " did not please him at all in no part." The Tempest was " the most innocent Play" that ever he saw — that which pleased him most in it, was " a curious piece of musique in an echo of half sentences, the echo repeating the former half Avhile the man goes on to the latter ; which is mighty pretty. The Play has no wit, yet good above ordinary Plays." An old Play of Shirley's, Hide Park, was revived in 1668, in which horses were brought upon the stage. On two occasions, the attention of Pepys seems to have been diverted from the actors to the critics. On the representation of a bad play, The Generall, '■'
' " I happened to sit near to Sir Charles Sedley ; who I find a very witty man, and he did at every line take notice of the dullness of the poet and badness of the action, that most pertinently ; which I was mightily taken with." — p. 313, vol. i.
" To the King's house to ' The Mayd's Tragedy ;' but vexed all the while with two talking ladies and Sir Charles Sedley ; yet pleased to hear their discourse, he being a stranger. And one of the ladies would and did sit with her mask on all the play, and being exceeding witty as ever I heard woman, did talk most pleasantly with him; but was, I believe, a virtuous woman, and of quality. He would fain know who she was, but she would not tell ; yet did give him many pleasant hints of her knowledge of him, by that means setting his brains at work to find out who she was, and did give him leave to use all means to find out who she was, but pulling off her mask. He was mighty witty, and she also making sport with him very inoffensively, that a moi'e pleasant rencontre I never heard. But by that means lost the pleasure of the play wholly, to which now and then Sir Charles Sedley's exceptions against both words and pronouncing were very pretty." — p. 19, vol. ii.
m
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And a change in his musical taste appears to have been wrought by the Virgin Martyr of Massinger, the source from which Faust and all its imitations have sprung without acknowledgment : —
" With my wife to the King's house to see ' The Virgin Martyr,' the first time it hath been acted a great while : and it is mighty pleasant ; not that the play is worth much, but it is finely acted by Beck Mar- shall. But that which did please me beyond any thing in the whole world, was the wind-musique when the angel comes down ; which is so sweet that it ravished me, and indeed, in a word, did wrap up my soul so that it made me really sick, just as I have formerly been when in love with my wife ; that neither then, nor all the evening going home, and at home, I was able to think of any thing, but remained all night transported, so as I could not believe that ever any musique hath that real command over the soul of a man as this did upon me ; and makes me resolve to practice wind-musique, and to make my wife do thelike."— p. 201, vol. ii.
Of Cowley, we are told, that he was " a mighty civil, serious man ;" and of Cocker, (the proverbial belle id^e of a writing master, who was more level to Pepys' comprehension,) that he was very ingenious, and, among other things, a great admirer and well read in the English poets, who undertook to judge of them all, and that not impertinently.
Of Pepys' vieAvs of Religion, we learn very little more than that he thought it right to wear his best clothes on Sunday. " Up, and put on my new stuff-suit, with a shoulder-belt according to the new fashion, and the hands of my vest and tunique laced with silk-lace of the colour of my suit : and so very handsome to church." That he disliked metaphysical divines. " To church, where Mr. Mills made an unnecessary sermon upon original sin, neither understood by himself nor the people ;" and that he very justly estimated the Presbyterians and Quakers. " To my Lord Crewe's, and there dined ; where Mr. Case, the minister, a dull fellow in his talk, and all in the Presbyterian manner ; a great deal of noise and a kind of religious tone, but very dull." " Read a ridiculous, nonsensical book set out by Will. Pen for the Qua- kers ; but so full of nothing but nonsense, that I was ashamed to read 'it."
The "Correspondence" with which these volumes close, contains very little of interest, if we except some letters on Second Sight from Lord Reay ; and one of the most striking instances of this singular gift or fancy (we know not which to call it, and we are careless of the sneer to which our hesitation may give birth) with which we ever met. It was communicated by Henry, second Earl of Clarendon, who could have no reason for falsifying, and
422 Pepys' Memoira.
who does not deliver his tale, by any means, with the air of an over credulous disposition :-^
" The matter was thus : — One day, I know by some remarkable circumstances it was towards the middle of February, 1661-2, the old Earl of Newborough* came to dine with my father at Worcester- house, and another Scotch gentleman with him, whose name I cannot call to mind. After dinner, as we were standing and talking together in the room, says my Lord Newborough to the other Scotch gentle- man, (who was looking very steadfastly upon my wife,) ' What is the matter, that thou hast had thine eyes fixed upon my Lady Cornburyf ever since she came into the room ? Is she not a fine woman ? Why doest thou not speak?' — ' She's a handsome lady indeed,' (said the gentleman,) ' but I see her in blood.' Whereupon my Lord New- borough laughed at him ; and all the company going out of the room, we parted : and I believe none of us thought more of the matter; I am sure I dkd not. My wife was at that time perfectly well in health, and looked as well as ever she did in her life. In the beginning of the next month she fell ill of the small pox : she was always very ap- prehensive of that disease, and used to say, if she ever had it she should dye of it. Upon the ninth day after the small pox appeared, in the morning, she bled at the nose, which quickly stop't ; but in the afternoon the blood burst out again with great violence at her nose and mouth, and about eleven of the clock that night she dyed, almost weltering in her blood." — p. 197-8, vol. ii.
There appears to have been considerable intimacy between Evelyn and Pepys ; although it is not quite clear that there could have been much communion of mind. It is amusing to hear the latter hazarding his dull and drowsy judgment of so eminent a man as Evelyn, in the following terms : "In fact, a most excellent person he is, and must be allowed a little con- ceitedness, but he may well be so, being a man so much above others. He read he thought Avith too much gusto, some little poems of his OAvn, that were not transcendant, yet one or two were pretty epigrams ; among others of a lady looking in at a grate and being pecked at by an eagle that Avas there." He has perhaps inadvertently touched upon Evelyn's leading weakness. in illustration of Evelyn's account of Sabatai Sevai, Pepys speaks of a Jew, Avho offered 10/. to be paid 100/. if in two years that eminent impostor, whom he believed to be the true Messiah, should not be acknowledged King of the world, by all the Princes
* Sir James Livingston, Bart, of Kinnairtl, gentleman of the bedchamber to Charles I., who created him Viscount Newbnrgh in 1647. On the Restoration, he was constituted Captain of the guards, and advanced to the dignity of an Earl. He died Dec. 26, 1670.
t Theodosia, third daughter of Arthur, Lord Capel of Hadhara.
Pepys' Memoirs. 423
in the East : and he also mentions, yet more fully than Evelyn, the attempt made by Charles II. to banish the unseemly angu- larity of European coat-and- waistcoat costume, in which we most cordially wish that his success had been greater. " The King hath yesterday in Council ordered his resolution of setting a fashion for clothes which he will never alter. It will be a vest, I know not well how ; but it is to teach the nobility thrift, and will do good." " This day the King begins to put on his vest, and I did see several persons of the House of Lords and Commons too, great courtiers, who are in it ; being a long cas- gocke close to the body, of black cloth, and pinked with white silk under it, and a coat over it, and the legs ruffled with black riband like a pigeon's leg : and upon the whole I wish the King may keep it, for it is a very fine and handsome garment. Lady Carteret tells me the ladies are to go into a new fashion shortly, and that is, to wear short coats, above their ancles ; which she and I do not like ; but conclude this long trayne to be mighty graceful." (p. 470, i.) "The Court is all full of vests, only my Lord St. Albans not pinked, but plain black ; and they say the King says the pinking upon white makes them look too much like magpies, and therefore hath bespoke one of plain velvet."
After the cessation of the Diary, we learn that Pepys ob- tained a few months' leave of absence on a journey through France and Holland. Soon after his return to England, he had the severe misfortune of losing his wife. In 1673, he sate in 'Parliament for Castle Rising, and baffled the intrigues of the arch-villain Shaftesbury, who sought to render his election void, by a charge of Popery. In the same year, when the Duke of York resigned all his Offices, Pepys was appointed Secretary of the Navy. During the insane and iniquitous rage occasioned by the Popish Plot, he was committed to the Tower, on the oath of the notorious Scot for sending secret particulars to the King of France respecting the English Navy, with the design of de- throning the King and extirpating the Protestant religion. On this absurd and malicious charge, after having been four times remanded without being able to procure a trial, he was obliged to find bail in 30,000/., and was discharged from his post. In that, however, he was again replaced in 1684, and continued to fill the office of secretary till the Revolution. The remainder of his life was past in retirement from public employment, and he died after a lingering illness at Clapham, in 1703.
Of Pepys' punctual and sedulous attendance to the routine of Office, there can be little doubt: but if our judgment of his general powers of mind, is to be formed upon the Diary, which was the depository of his most secret thoughts and actions, they were
424 Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr.
unusually contracted, and little deserving of the overcharged eulo- gies, with which some of his biographers have bedizened them. Of his literary pretensions we have already given sufficient specimens ; but what shall be said of a President of the Royal Society, (even in its infancy,) who walked into " the King's little elaboratory, under his closet, a pretty place ; and there saw a great many chymical glasses and things, but understood none of them."
Nevertheless, we are indebted to Lord Bray brooke, for having offered to the lover of minute history a bibliographical luxury which contains much curious and amusing gossip. We have reason to think that the Bibliotheca Pepysiana stills holds a great treasure of similar matter. There is one document men- tioned in a note on this work, to which we should rejoice to hear that circulation had been given: — " The Proceedings of the Coroner's Inquest at Cumnor, on the Body of the Countess of Leicester,"
Art. X. — 1. A Sermon, preached in the Church of Hatfon, near Warwick, at the Funeral of the Rev. Samuel Parr, LL.D. in obedience to his own request, March 14, 1825. And published at the desire of the Executors and Friends assembled on that occasion. By the Rev. S. Butler, D. D. F. R. S. <^c., Archdeacon of Derby, and Head Master of Shrewsbury School. London, Longman and Co. 1825. 4to. pp. 16.
2. — A Letter to the Rev. Dr. Milner, occasioned by some Passages contained in his Book, entitled " The End of Religious Con- troversy." By the late Rev. S. Parr, LL. D. London, Maw- man, 1825. 8vo. pp. 60.
EtTre Tts, 'lipuKXene, 7eou fiopov^ e? ^6 fxe BaKpv
TjeXiov \eay(rj Kmedvo'afiev. aWa av fieu ttov, ^eUp' ' AXiKapvrjaaev , teTpairaKai, airoBiy.
In this simple, but touching, manner does the Grecian poet re- cord the mingled sensations of painful and pleasing recollection with which he was affected, Avhen he heard that his friend Hera- clitus was no more. He called to mind the hours which they had spent in social converse ; he called to mind the instruction, as well as the entertainment, which he had derived from their mutual intercourse — but he is painfully awakened to the know- ledge that such hours cannot again return. With an affecting
Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr. 425
union of taste and of feeling, he then reverts to the pages, upon which Heraclitus had stamped the impress of his mind ; and he consoles himself with the idea that in these his friend could never be forgotten : —
ai 5e real ^wovaiv arjEoife^, tjatv o Traviwv ap'traKTrjp 'AtSiji ovk eV< X*^'/"* fia\e7.
With feelings, similar to those which actuated the bard of Cyrene, we heard the death of the venerable Dr. Parr. And if the avowal of such feelings implies sotae degree of personal knowledge, and even of personal attachment, we might ask, who, of any literary preten- sions, has not had some opportunity of meeting, some epistolary or social communication Avith that learned and extraordinary man ? And who, that has been much in his company, has not been charmed by the eager vivacity of his manner ; the gay exuberance of his spirits ; the benevolence that warmed his heart, and the elo- quence that flowed from his tongue ? We confess also that, as connected with the British Critic, we have a peculiar regard for the memory of Dr. Parr. Differing as he did from the conductors of it upon political grounds, he, no doubt, gave them credit for acting honestly upon principles, which they fearlessly avowed ; while in his turn he claimed, as he had a right to claim, credit for the purity of his own intentions. Hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim.
Well were it for the peace and comfort of society, if the rules of criticism extended to all j^olitical jars ! Such, however, was the friendly feeling of Dr. Parr towards the first institutors of the British Critic, that he occasionally enriched their pages from the intellectual treasures which he had amassed. And the posthu- mous work before us, contains a fresh demand upon our grateful veneration. It embodies a poAverful and generous encomium upon the virtues and talents of one of our most learned and lamented predecessors.*
Fear not, however, gentle reader ! We intend not to compose an unqualified panegyric ; nor to invade the province of a bio- grapher. We cannot be so forgetful of our duty to the public, as to venture upon the former error; nor so insensible to the utter want of materials and of information for the purpose of the latter. We, rejoice, indeed, to have seen it announced by au- thority, that the executors of Dr. Parr have delegated the im- portant task of preparing a full biographical memoir, and of
• See the warm-hearted, and just encomium upon the late Mr.Rennell. — p. 50, of the '• Letter to Ur. Milaer."
426 Pitm¥al Sermon on Br. Patf,
selecting papers for publication, to a gentleman,* who, we are as- sured, is fully qualified for the arduous undertaking. In the mean time it is gratifying to us that, by means of the works before us, we are enabled in some degree to satisfy that impatience, which the public naturally feels to learn something concerning every extraordinary man from an authentic source. Nor has it been less gratifying to observe, that the impressions we ourselves had derived from observations upon the singular varieties, as well as excellencies, of Dr. Parr's character, have been con- firmed, as well by the very judicious arid eloquent memoir of Dr. Butler, as by the testimony of a work issuing from his own pen, and long since intended for publication, but by many adverse causes, from day to day and even year to year, delayed.
Time slips away so fast, and generation succeeds generation so rapidly, that, unless we fix the mind intently upon dates, we are not conscious of the very important space which Dr. Parr occu- pied in the literary history of his country.
Placed as he was in the very first rank of a most important department of literature, he maintained his place during a longer period of time than almost any literary character of any age or country. He attained celebrity as a classical scholar, before he was an author ; and he was an author, if we mistake not, half a century ago. Yet up to the time, when he was attacked by the last fatal complaint, his habits of literary industry continued unabated, and his intellectual powers appeared to have suffered little or no diminution of their Wonted brilliancy and strength. As is happily expressed by the eminent scholar and affectionate friend, to whom he so wisely committed the task of pronouncing his funeral dis- course ; " He had not only passed his three-score years and ten, but he was fast approaching even to four-score years, without feeling that labour and sorrow, which the Psalmist so truly and pathetically describes as the general concomitants of protracted age. Till Avithin a short period, his old age was green and vigor- ous, his eye had not ivaxed dim, neither had his natural force abated ; and, above all, that noble and generous spirit, which was alive to all the finer sympathies, and all the holier charities of our social nature, had lost none of its ardour ; and that pro- found and capacious intellect, which seemed the boundless trea- sure-house of erudition and knowledge, long after the time when the faculties of most men become blunted, and their memory im- paired, was still able to pour forth its exhaustless stores with the prodigality of his brightest years." — pp. 4, 5.
* Dr. John Johnstone, of Birmingham,
Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr. 427
It so happened too that, when Dr. Parr was in the zenith of his fame, there were but/e?t; comparatively who could approach, even longo intervallo, the height of his classical attainments. When Dr. Parr was known and hailed as an oracle in Greek, Dawes Avas no longer in being; Musgrave had shot forth his brilliant light and disappeared ; and Jortin had quitted the scene of his unremitted toil. Markland had just resigned his pure and peaceful spirit, and Toup, and Lowth, and Tyrwhitt, each in his turn, was arriving at the limits of his illustrious career.
Indeed, during the early part of Dr. Parr's life, Greek litera- ture, generally speaking, was at a low ebb in this country. That it has since risen to such an imposing height, pervaded society to such extent, and can proudly bring forward so many distinguished champions, has been owing, we are persuaded, in some mea- sure, to the effect of the instructions, the exhortations, the ex*- amples, of this eminent man. There is something happily con- tagious in knowledge, as in ignorance ; and in proportion, as the one is of a more animating and ennobling description than the other, in that proportion do we believe, that the sacred fire is transmitted more rapidly from scholar to scholar, and the pure infection spread from age to age. Porson indeed was a meteor iui generis. Yet who knows what effect the name of Parr might have produced upon his young aspiring mind ; especially as he was a native of the county, wherein the doctor taught with such success, and where his fame was universally diffused ?
During the latter part of his life, a taste for classical learning, and particularly the charms of Grecian Poetry, combining every possible variety, and uniting the opposite extremes, of the simple and sublime, was diffused far more extensively. This no doubt may be traced partly to the direct instructions of such men as Parr and Burney, and Goodall and Keats, and Butler and Tate, partly to the stimulus indirectly supplied by personal communication with Parr and Porson. Both Universities have honourably vied with each other in the noble task of smoothing the way through the intricacies of Greek idiom and construction ; and while Oxford boasted her Elmsley and Gaisford on the one hand, Cambridge as proudly pointed to her Blomfield, Monk, and Dobree, on the other. Dr. Parr, we are assured, felt a generous delight in view- ing this growth of young but vigorous scholars — this seges clypeata virorum. Indeed, if there were points more admirable in his character as a man of letters than others, they consisted in the readiness with which he was disposed to impart information and aid to every literary undertaking ; and the unaffected sincerity, with which he bestowed applause himself, or listened to the ap- plause bestowed by others, upon those who were pursuing the same studies and aiming at a similar reputation. Some; who
428 Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr.
have watched his conversation or scrutinized his writings, may perhaps be of opinion, that his panegyric was sometimes indis- criminate and sometimes excessive. It proceeded, however, from a kindly and generous disposition ; and we profess merely to sketch a rough outline ; without having time to notice any little excrescence, which may interrupt the regularity of the surface : —
*' Sedfugit inierea,fugit irreparabUe tempus ; Singula dum capti circumvectamur ainore."
It is therefore incumbent upon us, without further preface, to give some account of the two valuable documents before us. One is a Funeral Sermon upon a text selected by Dr. Parr; (Micah, vi. 8.) — the other, a Letter, by the venerable doctor him- self, and now published for the first time. It is written in a tone of indignant expostulation to Dr. Milner, of Roman Catholic celebrity; in consequence of some unwarrantable assertions affecting the characters of our Protestant Bishops, particularly Bishop Halifax, late of St. Asaph. If other proof Avere Avanting, this production alone would supply proof that could not bcAvith- stood, of the genuine feelings with Avhich Dr. Parr was ever ani- mated in the defence of Truth ; of his honest zeal for the interests of Protestantism; of his affection to the Established Church; and of his utter disregard as to any difference of political sentiments, Avhen the character of a scholar and divine, above all of a Pro- testant Bishop, was wantonly arraigned or basely calumniated. Then would he start forth, in spite of disagreement upon inferior points, and with all the vigour of his intellect, and all the thunder of his eloquence, vindicate the outraged cause of justice and of charity. Though upon some abstract and even practical questions, he might agree with the assailant more than with the assailed, yet, when the principles of Protestantism were impugned, and the character of a Prelate traduced, to serve a party purpose, then would he interpose his sevenfold shield, nor suffer the fame of the living nor the memory of the dead to be trampled upon with impunity : —
" — afifpi MevonittBrj ffUKOi evpv KaXvY^a?, earijKei, a>? t/? re \ewv irepi oiai TeKeaffiv."
That our readers may noAV form their own judgment upon the design and execution of these two performances, Ave must proceed to lay before them some specimens from each. — The first of them will show in hoAV masterly and judicious a manner Dr. Butler has executed the task, imposed by the Avishes of his dying friend : —
" I am not about to consider him as a faultless character : were I to do so, I should betray the trust he has reposed in me, in a manner
Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr. 42^
that would, I am sure, be as offensive to the feelings of those who hear me, as to my own. He had not only his share of the faults and fail- ings which are inseparable from our nature ; but he had some that were almost peculiarly his own. But then, they were such as were nobly compensated by his great and rare excellencies. Such as arose from his grand and towering genius, from his ardent and expansive mind, from his fearless and unconquerable spirit, from his love of truth and liberty, from his detestation of falsehood and oppression ; and not un- frequently also, for we may scorn to conceal it, from the knowledge of his own strength, from the consciousness of transcendant talents, of learning commensurate to those talents, and of eloquence proportioned to that learning. This led him to be impatient in arguments, some- times with a dull and unoffending, often with a legitimate, and always with an arrogant or assuming adversary. From the impetuous ardour of his feelings and the sincerity of his soul, he was apt to judge of others from himself; and this counteracted his natural saga- city, and exposed him too easily to the artifices of pretenders and im- postors. Of his intellectual powers it was impossible that he should not be conscious, and this made him too open to the praise of those who could not truly appreciate them, and who bestowed their hollow compliments with insincerity of heart. Endowed with an ardour of feeling and quickness of perception proportionate to his stupendous abilities, and forming, in fact, an inherent and essential part of their constitution, it was impossible that his likings and aversions should not be proportionably strong, and more plainly expressed, than those of other men ; and his habits in this and many other respects, were what the great founder of the Peripatetic school ascribes to the cha- racter of the magnanimous, — and such indeed he was."
" If I have touched thus plainly and sincerely on the blemishes of his character, I may claim the greater credit in what I have to say on its excellencies. You will readily believe that he, who has not sought to conceal ihe former, will not wish to magnify the latter beyond their due bounds. Indeed it would hardly be necessary to say this, were it not probable that among those who are now assembled, there may be some who were either strangers to him personally, or who have had but slight opportunities of knowing him. But to you, his be- loved flock, who have had the benefit of his instruction and converse for more than forty years, — to. you, his long-tried and long-known friends, whose affection for him has increased in proportion to the length of your intimacy — to those, whose frequent and habitual inter- course has given you the best means of estimating his talents and his virtues, tO you it is needless to make this appeal. I speak before many and competent witnesses, even the most competent witnesses; in whose presence it would be as absurd in me to praise him for vir- tues which he did not possess, as it would be base in an enemy to cen- sure him for faults which cannot justly be laid to his charge. — I am here in obedience to his command ; and so far, I trust, in his own free and manly spirit, as to scorn offering to his memory, what I should
VOL I. 2 G
430 Funeral Sermon on Dr. Pai^y
despise to receive as a tribute to my own. I must ever speak of him with the warmth of aifectionate friendship, with love for his virtues, with admiration for his learning, and with gratitude for his regard. But I will say of him only, that which I believe and know, and will never introduce the language of insincerity in a place and on an occa- sion, which, of all others, should admit only the voice of truth." — pp. 5-7.
Compared with the extent of the sermon, this may be con- sidered a long extract; although, Ave trust, few of our readers will be disposed to complain of the length of what is so truly excellent. Indeed, this composition is a cabinet piece ; and, Avith a few inconsiderable exceptions as to style, displays such exact- ness of judgment and such felicity of diction, as at once to appear a proud monument to the talents of the living and the virtues of the dead. We must indulge ourselves in one more extract ; and then proceed to select some passages from the doctor's own pamphlet, introduced as it is by a sensible and animated preface, bearing the signature of his grandson and heir, Mr. Lynes : —
" As to his learning, it was the most profoimd, and, I may add, the most varied and extensive, of any man of his age. He has left a chasm in the literature of his country, which none of us, who are here assembled to do honour to his memory, shall ever live to see filled up. He combined in himself a rare and happy union of quali- ties that are seldom compatible with each other ; quick perception and sound judgment, retentive memory and vivid imagination ; to these he added unwearied assiduity and accurate research. As a •classical scholar, he was supreme — deeply versed in history, especially that of his own country; in metaphysical and moral philosophy not to be excelled ; in theology he had read more extensively, and thought more deeply, than most of those who claim the highest literary fame in that department. He was admirably versed in the history and constitution of our own church, in the origin of its liturgy, which no man admired more than himself, and in the writings both of its founders and of those great luminaries who flourished in the seventeenth century. He vas well acquainted also with the con- stitution of those sects and churches, which difler from our own. He was well read in controversy, though he loved not controversialists, for his benevolent and tolerating spirit was shocked by any thing like rancour among men who believe a gospel of love, and worship a God of love, and yet can let loose the malignant and vindictive passions, in their religious disputes against each other." — pp. 11, 12.
Of the occasion and substance of Dr. Parr's own letter to Dr. Milner we have already spoken. The editor of this posthumous publication must now be allowed to speak for himself; and while, Yii\h. honest warmth, he vindicates the fame of his revered relative,
Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr. 431
he gratifies us with the intelligence that there is much valuable matter preserved from the fruits of his learned toils, which in due time will see the light.
" Of his devotedness to pure religion, his preaching and his writings will be everlasting monuments. Of his attachment to the Church of England in particular, the following treatise is only one out of a great number of proofs ; and it will be seen hereafter that he was not only a faithful follower of his Divine Master in his life and in his doctrines, but that he did not, as frequently has been asserted, ' hide his light in a bushel, or conceal his talent in a napkin ;' nor reserve, for party purposes, for dogmatical discussion, and for mere display, the inex- haustible stores of his intellect. It has been too much the fashion to say that Dr. Parr has done little, either for the cause of religion or learning, in comparison to what he might have done, had he employed his leisure in preparing materials, and occupied his mind wholly and solely on the completion of some great work on some great subject." — Preface to Letter, p. v.
In refutation of this mistaken notion, the editor, after advanc- ing various other proofs, proceeds to say, — " The works he has already published, when collected, would probably constitute two quarto volumes ; and if what he has left were to be all given to the world, I believe it would comprise a greater mass of theological, metaphysical, philological, and classical learning, than has ever yet been published by any one English scholar." — p. 7.
The Letter itself is in many resi)ects a model of the true contro- versial syle. It concedes where concession is required ; it praises where praise is due ; yet it withholds not the language of censure, where occasion requires it to be employed. The acuteness of the following passage is worthy the very best days of Dr. Parr: —
" Catholics, you say, by adhering to the rule which is formed by tradition united with Scripture, and to the living speaking authority of the Church in expounding that rule, live and die in peace and secu- rity, as far as regards tl»e truth of their religion. (Part I. p. 104.) Be it so. My concern is with the note you have affixed to the following serious words : — ' There are few of our Catholic priests, you say, who have not been frequently called in to receive dying Protestants into the Catholic Church, while not a single instance of a Catholic wishing to die in any other communion than his own, can be produced. O Death, thou great enlightener ! O truth-telling Death, how power- ful art thou in confuting the blaaphemics, and dissipating the prejudices of the enemies of God's Church 1' (Part. I. p. 77.) My questions upon these words are, — Can you prove that the Catholic priests, who have been called in to receive dying Protestants into the Catholic church are not, fewp Can you prove that these many pripsts have
2g2 ■
432 Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr",
been called in by many Protestants ? Can you furnish the public with a satisfactory reason, that so many priests, with so many in- stances of conversion, should from time to time have been silent upon the subject of so much triumph to Roman Catholics, and so much mortification to Protestants ? Can you show us that the priests pro- fessing thus to be called in were men of sound discretion and unim- peachable veracity ? Was it the prudence, of v> hich you speak, that restrained your priests from telling their followers, or their opponents whether their interposition was solicited or spontaneous ; whether it took place with or without the consent and knowledge of relations ; whether the example of the dying was followed by their survivors ; whether the persons whom they attended were men of weak or strong intellects ; and whether, in the general tenour of their conduct, they were virtuous or vicious ; so virtuous, Sir, as in their last moments to renounce the Church in which they had been educated, and, with hazard to their reputation, to become members of what they at last believed to be the true Church ; or so vicious as to stand in urgent need of those peculiar aids, which the Church of Rome abundantly supplies in the confession and absolution prescribed by its disci- pline?"—pp. 28-9.
In reply to the assertion of Dr. Milner, that " it is an absurdity to talk of the church, or society of Protestants, because the term ' Protestants' expresses nothing positive, much less any union or association among them," Dr. Parr replies thus forcibly as well as logically : " Where, perhaps you will be asked by some of my brethren, lies the absurdity of talking of a church or society of Protestants ? where, permit me to ask you, is the contradiction either in the ideas or the terms ? If one term, ' Protestant,' dis- tinctly and unequivocally expresses one idea, the protestation of those who protest against the Catholic church, how does it follow that another term, be it ' church,' or ' society,' does not as un- equivocally and as distinctly express another idea, namely, the union or association of those who thus protest among themselves ? When you, Sir, have the goodness to assist my dulness, I shall be ready to forgive your positiveness, and to applaud your saga- city."—pp. 16-7.
We must,however,bring fonvard one or two passages, immediately connected with the occasion, upon which the letter was written ; and then, anxious as we are to produce additional proof of the manly spirit, and Christian zeal, which animate the writer through- out the whole, yet must we reluctantly refer our readers to the work itself; which, we cannot help thinking, they will be anxious to possess.
Dr. Milner's first statement respecting the late Bishop of Hali- fax, was, that ♦* he probably died a Catholic." This statement
Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr. 433
attracted no general attention until it was seen and brought into notice by the bishop's son. But it did not escape the piercing glance of Dr. Parr, and he required, in his most authoritative tone, that the accuser should substantiate or retract the charge : —
" ' The present writer,' say you, ' has been informed, on good authority, that one of the bishops, whose calumnies are here quoted, when he found himself on his death-bed, refused the proffered ministry of the primate, and expressed a great wish to die a Catholic. When urged to satisfy his conscience, he exclaimed, ff^hat then will become of my Lady and my Children ?'
" Dr. Milner, on the behalf of that lady, whose sensibility has not been blunted by old age, and who, by her accomplishments and her virtues, is justly endeared to her friends and her children — on behalf of those friends, who most assuredly will sympathize with me in their solicitude to rescue the character of the Bishop from the apostasy which you have imputed to him — on the behilfoftho.se children, who are now respectable members of society, and whose feelings must be most painfully wounded by the representations which you have given of their affectionate father in the trying moments of his death — on behalf of that church, with the members of which I have lived in communion from my boyhood to grey hairs, and hope, by the pro- vidence of God, to pour forth my latest breath— on behalf of your own Church, which abounds, I am sure, with enlightened and upright men, who would disdain to support the honour of it by misrepresent- ation— on the behalf of every honest and every pious Christian, whe- ther he be a Protestant or a Romanist — I beseech you to tell the world, unreservedly and distinctly, what is that authority, which you have deliberately and publicly pronounced g-oorf.'' — pp. 35-6-7.
" Pardon me, Sir, for telling you unreservedly, that upon the pre- sent occasion your character here, and in some measure your sa vation hereafter, are interested in your speedy, honest, and earnest endea- vours to redeem the pledge which in the foregoing words you have given to every Christian reader of every denomination." (P. 3. of Address.) — p. 43.
This is strong language, but stronger still would have been used had Dr. Parr lived to read the reply to his expostulation.
Another instance of the doctor's ardent love of talents and goodness, may be found in his observations upon the Dean of Win- chester and his lamented son. Dr. Milner had called the former a modern Luther ; and it is thus that Dr. Parr remonstrates with him on the occasion : — ' ! ' . , , . •' . '
" Dr. Milner, I have not presumed to hold you up to the scdrn and abhorrence of Protestants, nor to let loose upon you the hideous appellations of bigoted controvertist, falsifier, calumniator, incen- diary, persecutor, a modern Bonner, and an English Malagrida. I
434 Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr.
have treated you, Sir, with the courtesy which is due to a Roman Catholic dig'nitary, who professes to teach the religion of a meek, lowly, and benevolent Redeemer; to have received ' in a special manner' (Part II. p. 216) his legitimate ordination and divine mis- sion in a direct succession from the apostolic age ; and to plead the cause of that only true Church which exclusively lays claim to unity, to sanctity, to Catholicity, to apostolicity, and to the visible protec- tion of the Omnipotent in a series of miraculous interpositions, vouchsafed for the illustration of that Church through the long space of eighteen centuries. But if the English ecclesiastic, whose private conversation you have confessedly divulged, should in reality not be the contemptible and execrable miscreant which a modern Luther, according to your delineation of his Prototype, must be, then. Sir, I leave it with yourself to find a proper name for that writer, who, in the eighteenth century, and in a civilized country, should present to his readers. Catholic or Protestant, such a portraiture as you have exhibited of such an ecclesiastic as Dr. Rennell." — pp. 47-8.
" The man whom, in one place, you have arraigned at the bar of the public as a modern Luther, and whom, in another, you have virtually accused of inconsistency, insincerity, and corrupt ambition, is now living ; and long may he live to be a fellow-labourer with the Maltbys, the Butlers, the Blomfields, and other eminent contem- poraries, in the cause of literature, to exhort and convince the gain- sayers by sound doctrine, and to adorn the revealed will of God our Saviour in all things !
Whether or no he may be pleased to lift up his giant arm in crush- ing the assailant of his long-established and well-earned reputation, I take not upon myself to determine. But the prudence, at which you once hinted, ought to have suggested to you, that our modern Luther has a son not quite unworthy of such an illustrious father, not quite unable to wield the choicest weapons of lawful warfare, when con- fronted by so sturdy and well-disciplined a champion as yourself My authority, Dr. Milner, is good, not only from common fame, but from the general consent of scholars, and my own personal observation, when I say with equal confidence to Protestants and Romanists, that by profound erudition, by various -and extensive knowledge, by a well- formed taste, by keen discernment, by glowing and majestic eloquence, by morals correct without austerity, and by piety fervent without Superstition, the son of the Dean of Winchester stands among the brightest luminaries of our national literature and national church.*
"Perhaps, in the progress of his son's improvement, the time will come, when the Dean would pardon his contemporaries for saying of himself, as compared with that son, — ■
* " Deeply does the Editor lament, in common with every lover of virtue and of learning, tliat this ornament of the Church no longer exists. Yet it is gratifying to him to reflect, that it must he some consolation to the parents of such a son, to read this sincere and dfsinterested commendation of him from the pen of such a man as Dr. Parr!"
Funeral Sermon on Dr. Parr. 435
nati spectans bene facta fatetur
Esse suis majora, et vinci gaudet ab illo."
In respect to myself. Sir, it is impossible for me to foresee what senti- ments I may entertain, when ' the transitory scene of this world is closing to my sight.' (Part II. p. 236.) But, at the present moment, I shall not deprecate from you, Sir, or any human being whatsoever, the imputation of wilftil ignorance, when I declare to you what is the state of my own mind, after a course of reading not very confined, and of reflection not very negligent, for more than fifty years. I leave you. Sir, to glory in the name of Catholic without impeaching your sin- cerity. But I am myself ' not a Lutheran, not a Calvinist, not a Whitfieldite, not a Wesleyan, nor of the Kirk of Scotland, nor of the jConsistory of Geneva.' (Part. II. p. 194.) I am a member of that English church, which, according to your own acknowledgment, ' has better pretensions to unity, and the other marks of the true church, than any other Protestant society.' " (Part. II. p. 125.) — pp. 49-52.
Our anxiety has been to exhibit the character of Dr. Parr from the vivid, hut honest, portraiture of his friend ; and from the light thrown upon his opinions and feelings by, probably, the last efl'ort of his mind, which he designed for public view, the result appears to be, that he was one of the most distinguished scholars in Great Britain for the space of half a century; that he was emi- nent for his professional knowledge, as well as professional services in the obscure, but preeminently useful, station of a village priest. It appears also, from evidence not to be controverted, that he was sincerely, and even affectionately, attached to the church of which he was a member. And yet, for many years of his life, he was indebted to the bounty of private individuals and friends for the means of comfortable subsistence ; he never held any dignity in the church to which residence Avas attached ; nor, till within a very few years of his death, was he in possession of any large pro- fessional emoluments. He perhaps had no right, indeed we are assured that he disclaimed all right, to expect patronage from those whose measures he bo strongly, upon every occasion, condemned. Irri- tation at neglect, may, at times, have made him express himself in terms of keen sarcasm, or bitter invective, against some, who, like Jupiter of old, held the golden scales in their hands. But these were the casual ebullitions of an ardent and wounded spirit, which seasonable attentions might have wholly prevented, or turned into a more kindly channel. And we have only to re- gret that, from the vehemence of his own disposition, or the angry spirit of the times, the distinguished divine, who has been passing under our review, did not fill some higher place in his profession : since, after every deduction, he must be allowed to
436 ;• Sheridan's Memoirs,
have established a strong claim to it ; and, from the evidence of the works before us, >ve are convinced he would have adorned it.
Art. XI. — Memoirs of the Life of the Right Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan. By Thomas Moore. Messrs. Longman, Hurst, and Co. 1825. 4to.
Many circumstances have concurred to raise expectations before the appearance of this work, such as, perhaps, no performance could equal, and such as, at all events, must be a disadvantage to any work Avhen it appeared. The very extraordinary career of the subject of these Memoirs, his self-elevation, the brilliancy of his raid-day splendour, and the dark and melancholy distresses which shrouded his later years, occasioned a painful interest to be attached to his memory when it was at last known that he was no more.
This interest was increased when it was understood that he had left many papers behind, and that his family had intrusted the care of them, and the pious charge of portraying his character, to Mr. Moore. The delay of Mr. Moore in fulfilling his task, and the hasty and immature attempts of some other writers to antici- pate his undertaking, tended rather to increase than to allay the curiosity of the public. Expectations thus heightened were almost sure to be a prelude to some degree of disappointment. Every man's imagination had been allowed to indulge its own scope as to the nature and importance of the materials in the possession of Mr. Sheridan's family ; and those who were only superficially ac- quainted with Mr. Moore's former publications, very precipitately judged that the occasional happiness of his diction implied readi- ness in composition, and that where so much had been accom- plished with apparent ease, even under the shackles of verse, a work in prose, the product of so much leisure, must exhibit ex- traordinary excellencies.
After a very deliberate examination of the work before us, we must confess that our feeling is, upon the whole, one of disappointment. There are many judicious remarks interspersed through the volume, but they are almost lost and overwhelmed in the midst of puerilities, conceits, and affectation. Discussions on the Catholic question are, in some places, unnecessarily obtruded, and there is a tone of personal and vindictive feeling on the subject of hopes disap- pointed or betrayed, from which it would have been, at all events,
Sheridan's Memoirs. 437
more dignified to have abstained, Mr Moore's individual relations of friendship, or intimacy, with many of the noble persons mentioned, are dwelt upon sometimes in the text, and sometimes in the notes, with ridiculous prolixity. A biographer ought to forget himself. Mr. Moore's narrative is perpetually interrupted with observations but little connected with the princi- pal and ostensible subject of his memoir. We proceed, however, to examine Mr. Sheridan's literary and political life, and then to make some general remarks on Mr. Moore's style.
The general outline of Sheridan's life is well known. He was born in 1751, in Ireland. His father was the son of that Dr. Sheridan well known as the friend of Swift, and was himself celebrated as a teacher of elocution, and as a man of abilities, but of an eccentric cast. His mother was at once distinguished for her amiable character, and for that degree of judgment, which, perhaps, had the greater influence from the retiring and unobtrusive deportment with which it was accompanied.
Sheridan was sent early to Harrow school ; he was there the schoolfellow of Jones and Halhed, and the pupil of Sumner and Parr.
In his early life he gave indications of talent, gleaming through habitual indolence and slu^ishness. But his tutors endeavoured in vain to rouse him, and, after he left Harrow, he seems for some time to have roamed about without any settled plan for his future life, and, to an unaccountable degree, estranged from the care and attentions of his father.
It was a fortunate circumstance for Sheridan's character, that at this period of his life, he fell within the s|)here of Miss Linley's attractions. Some extraordinary impulse was wanting to concen- trate his attention, and to develope those powers of mind which seemed in danger of being absorbed by constitutional torpor, or dissipated by versatility, and such an impulse was supplied by the romantic nature of this attachment The various occurrences which preceded Mr. Sheridan's marriage with this lady, the cir- cumstances of the flight to France, and of the two duels with Mr. Mathews, are related in the volume before us, with a degree of minuteness and detail much more than necessary. The ad- vertisements of the day, with respect to the duels, all the con- tradictory and explanatory statements which were published on the occasion, are set forth as important documents, as if the readers were at this day to sit in judgment on the character of Mr. Sheridan's antagonist. The transaction is more curious, perhaps, when looked upon as stirring up Sheridan's mind, and concurring with the pressure of domestic concerns to produce his first comedy, '• The Rivals." What has been remarked of Field-'
Sheridan's Memoirsli
Ing's novels, that they were histories of events in his dwn life coloured a little, and attributed to fictitious characters, may be applied with at least equal truth to Sheridan's dramas. Some of the best parts in " The Rivals" are an adaptation of the scene in *' The Merry Wives of Windsor" to the author's own duels. " The School for Scandal" is in the same manner a modernization of Congreve's " Double Dealer," struck out by some occurrences in the author's own life. " The Critic" is " The Rehearsal" new- fashioned in ridicule of Cumberland. Among the most curious contents of the present work, we should be disposed to class the ample illustrations given of the progress by which these plays of Sheridan, and particularly " The School for Scandal," were re- fined to their present excellence. The dull and imperfect vivacity of the first attempts is indeed surprising, Avhen contrasted with the exquisite polish to which the same thoughts were ultimately wrought. Pregnancy of matter, and simplicity of manner, are indeed incompatible with rapid composition. It is well known with what scrupulous care Addison and Middleton and Burke touched and retouched, revised, and sometimes entirely recast, their writings, before they could produce those works which charm every reader, by Avhat appears a spontaneous and unstudied hap- piness of expression. The same is well known among French writers to have been the case with Bossuet and Rousseau, tAvo writers who, though they might be contrasted with one another in almost every other particular, are equally remarkable for the justness and purity of their language, and for the melody of their periods. It is not indeed to be denied, that other, and perhaps higher qualities, may be consistent with rapid production. The inequalities in Shakspeare, even in his best plays, are strong evidence, independently of other circumstances, that they were not elaborated ; and his happiest passages, whether of pathos or humour, seem to have been struck off in the effervescence of the moment, and as the effusions merely of a finer mood. But wit and elegance, though scattered occasionally with success, were not the predominant or characteristic qualities of Shakespeare's genius. Of Sheridan's plays, " The School for Scandal" is pre- eminently the best ; and it is his singular and peculiar praise to have exhibited in that play turns of wit which may compete with Congreve's, in point and excellence, uncontaminated with his profligacy and licentiousness.
Among the literary remains of Mr. Sheridan, now first pub- lished by Mr. Moore, there is little to attract particular notice. The unfinished copies of verses are such as might have been alloAved to remain in Mr. Sheridan's portfolio, Avithout injury to his talents. The following vestiges of a new play on affectation.
Sheridan's Memoirs^ 439
which it seems was intended to be of a very comprehensive cast, are more curious, and we extract them as specimens of Mr.' Sheridan's earlier stages of manufacture, and as the most laboured and most considerable of his embryo productions : —
"Character. — Mr. Bustle.
' '" A man who delights in hurry and interruption — will take any one's business for them — leaves word where all his plagues may follow him— . g^overnor of all hospitals, &c. — share in Ranelaj^h — speaker every where, from the vestry to the house of commons — * I am not at hgme— gad^ now he has heard me, and I must be at home.' — ' Here am I so plagued, and there is nothing I love so much as retirement and quiet.' — ' You never sent after me.' — Let servants call in to him such a message as ' 'Tis nothing but the window-tax,' he hiding in a room that communicates. — » A young man tells him some important business in the middle of fifty trivial interruptions, and the calling in of idlers ; such as fiddlers, wild-> beast men, foreigners with recommendatory letters, &c. — answers notes on his knee, ' and so your uncle died ? — for your obliging inquiries—* and left you an orphan — to cards in the evening.'
" Can't bear to be doing nothing. — ' Can I do any thing for anybody any where?' — ' Have been to the secretary — written to the treasury.' — * Must proceed to meet the commissioners, and write Mr. Price's little boy's exercise.' — The most active idler and laborious trifler.
" He does not in reality love business — only the appearance of it.* ' Ha ! ha ! did my lord say that I was always very busy ? — What,' plagued to death?"
" Keeps all his • letters and copies — ' Mem. to meet the hackney-^ coach commissioners — to arbitrate between, &c. &c.'
" Contrast with the man of indolence, his brother. — ' So, brother, just up ! and I have been, &c. &c.' — one will give his money from in- dolent generosity, the other his time from restlessness — ' 'Twill be shorter to pay the bill than look for the receipt.' — Files letters, answered and unanswered — •' Why, here are more unopened than answered !' •
" He regulates every action "by a love for fashion — will grant an- nuities though he doesn't want money — ^appear to intrigue, though constant, to drink, though sober — has some fashionable vices — affects to be distressed in his circumstances, and, when his new vis-a-vis comes out, procures a judgment to be entered against him — wants to lose, but by ill-luck wins five thousand pounds. ;
" .One who changes sides in all arguments the moment any on* agrees with him.
" An irresolute ar^er, to whom it is a great misfortune that there are not three sides to a question — a libertine in argument ; conviction,- like enjoyment, palls him, and his rakish understanding is soon satiated with truth — more capable of being faithful to a paradox— ' I love truth as I do my wife ; but sopliistry and paradoxes are my mistre«se&-'I
'440 Sheridan's Memoirs.
hare a strong- domestic respect for her, but for the other the passion due to a mistress.'
" One, who agfrees with every one, for the pleasure of speaking their sentiments for them — so fond of talking that he does not contradict only because he can't wait to hear people out.
" A tripping casuist, who veers by others' breath, and gets on to in- formation by tacking between the two sides— like a hoy, not made to go straight before the wind.
*' The more he talks, the farther he is off the argument, like a bowl on a wrong bias.
" What are the affectations you chiefly dislike?
" There are many in this company, so I'll mention others. — To see two people affecting intrigue, having their assignations in public places only ; he, affecting a warm pursuit, and the lady, acting the hesitation of retreating virtue — ' Pray, ma'am, don't you think, &c.' — while neither party have words between 'em to conduct the preliminaries of gallantry, nor passion to pursue the object of it.
" A plan of public flirtation — not to get beyond a profile.
" Then I hate to see one, to whom heaven has given real beauty, settling her features at the glass of fashion, while she speaks — not thinking so much of what she says as how she looks, and more careful of the action of her lips than of what shall come from them.
" A pretty woman studying looks, and endeavoui*ing to recollect an
ogle, like Lady -^ , who has learned to play her eyelids like Venetian
blinds.*
" An old woman endeavouring to put herself back to a girl.
" A true-trained wit lays his plan like a general — foresees the cir- cumstance of the conversation — surveys the ground and contingencies — detaches a question to draw you into the palpable ambuscade of his ready-rpade joke.
" A man intriguing, only for the reputation of it — to his confidential servant : ' Who am I in love with now ?' — ' The newspapers give you so and so — you are laying close siege to lady L. in the Morning Post, and have succeeded with lady tr. in the Herald — Sir F. is very jealous of you in the Gazetteer.' — ' Remember to-morrow, the first thing you do, to put me in love with Mrs. C
" ' I forgot to forget the billet-doux at Brooks's.' — ' By the by, an't I in love with you?' — ' Lady L. has promised to meet me in her car- riage to-morrow — where is the most public place ?'
* This simile is repeated in various sliapes through his manuscripts — " She moves her eyes up and down like Venetian blinds" — " Her eyelids play like a Venetian blind," &c. &c.
S^endsLXi's Memoirs, 441'
** * You were rude to her !' — * Oh, no, upon my soul, I made love to her directly.'
" An old man, who affects intrigue, and writes his own reproaches in the Morning Post, trying to scandalize himself into the reputation of being young, as if he could obscure his age by blotting his character — though never so little candid as when he's abusing himself.
" ' Shall you be at Lady 's ? — I'm told the Bramin is to be
there, and the new French philosopher.' — ' No — it will be pleasanter at Lady — ■ 's conversazione — the cow with two heads will be there.'
* I shall order my valet to shoot me the very first thing he does in the morning.'
' You are yourself affected and don't know it — you would pass for morose.'
" He merely wanted to be singular, and happened to find the cha- racter of moroseness unoccupied in the society he lived with.
" He certainly has a great deal of fancy, and a very good memory ; but with a perverse ingenuity he employs these qualities as no other person does — for he employs his fancy in his narratives, and keeps his recollections for his wit — when he makes his jokes, you applaud the accuracy of his memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts, that you admire the flights of his imagination.*
" A fat woman trundling into a room on castors — in sitting can only lean against her chair — rings on her fingers, and her fat arms strangled with bracelets, which belt them like corded brawn — rolling and heaving when she laughs with the rattles in her throat, and a most apoplectic ogle — you wish to draw her out, as you would an opera-glass.
" A long lean man, with all his limbs rambling — no way to jeduce him to compass, unless you could double him like a pocket rule — with his arms spread, he'd lie on the be i of Ware like a cross on a Good Friday bun — standing still, he is a pilaster without abase — he appears rolled out or run up against a wall — so thin, that his front face is but the moiety of a profile — if he stands cross-legged, he looks like a caduceus, and put him in a fencing attitude, you would take him for a piece of chevaux-de-frise — to make any use of him, it must be as a spontoon or fishing-rod — when his wife's by, he follows like a note of admiration — see them together, one's a mast, and the other all hulk — she's a dome and he's built like a glass-house — when they part, you wonder to see the steeple separate from the chancel, and were they to embrace, he must hang round her neck like a skein of thread on a lace-
The reader will find how much this thought was improved upon afterwards.
442 Sheridan's Memoirs.
maker's bolster — to sing her praise you should choose a rondeau, and to celebrate him you must write all Alexandrines.
" I wouldn't give a pin to make fine men in love with me — every coquette can do that, and the pain you give these creatures is very trifling. I love out-of-the-way conquests ; and as I think my attractions are singular, I would draw singular objects.
" The loadstone of true beauty draws the heaviest substances — not like the fat dowager, who frets herself into warmth to get the notice of a few papier mdche fops, as you would rub Dutch sealing-wax to draw paper.
" If I were inclined to flatter, I would say that, as you are unlike other women, you ought not to be won as they are. Every woman can be gained by time, therefore you ought to be by a sudden impulse. Bighs, devotion, attention weigh with others ; but they are so much your due that no one should claim merit from them
" You should not be swayed by common motives — how heroic to form a marriage for which no human being can guess the inducement— what a glorious unaccountableness ! All the world will wonder what the devil you could see in me ; and, if you should doubt your singularity, I pledge myself to you that I never yet was endured by woman ; so that I should owe every thing to the effect of your bounty, and not by my own super- fluous deserts make it a debt, and so lessen both the obligation and my gratitude. In short, every other woman follows her inclination, but you, above all things, should take me, if you do not like me. You will, besides, have the satisfaction of knowing that we are decidedly the worst match in the kingdom — a match, too, that must be all your own work, in which fate could have no hand, and which no foresight could foresee.
" A lady who affects poetry. — * I made regular approaches to her by sonnets and rebusses — a rondeau of circumvallation — her pride sapped by an elegy, and her reserve surprised by an impromptu — proceeding to storm with Pindarics, she, at last, saved the further effusion of ink by a capitulation.'
" Her prudish frowns and resentful looks are as ridiculous as 'twould be to see a board with notice of spring-guns set in a highway, or of steel-traps in a common — because they imply an insinuation that there is something worth plundering where one would not, in the least, Buspect it.
" The expression of her face is at once a denial of all love-suit, and a confession that she never was asked — the sourness of it arises not so much from her aversion to the passion, as from her never having had an opportunity to show it. Her features are so unfortunately formed that she could never dissemble or put on sweetness enough to induce any one to give her occasion to show her bitterness. I never saw a woman to whom you would more readily give credit for perfect chastity.
lUpPPi^^ "' ■■."fMfwWWSHipiipip
Sheridan's M&moirs, 443
*' Lady Clio. 'What am I reading?' — * Have I drawn nothing lately ? — is the work-bag finished? — how accomplished I am ! — has the man been to untune the harpsichord ? — does it look as if I had been playing on it ?
" ' Shall I be ill to-day ? — shall I be nervous ?' — ' Your la' ship was nervous yesterday.' — ' Was I ? — then I'll have a cold — I haven't had a cold this fortnight — a cold is becoming — no — I'll not have a cough ; that's fatiguing — I'll be quite well.' — ' You become sickness — your la'ship always looks vastly well when you're ill.'
" ' Leave the book half read and the rose half finished — ^you know I lovf to be caught in the fact.'
" One who knows that no credit is ever given to his assertions has the more right to contradict his words.
" He goes the western circuit, to pick up small fees and impudence*
" A new wooden leg for Sir Charles Easy.
" An ornament which proud peers wear all the year round — chimney* sweepers only on the first of May.
" In marriage if you possess any thing very good, it makes you eager to get every thing else good of the same sort.
"The critic when he gets out of his carriage should always recollect, that his footman behind is gone up to judge as well as himself.
" She might have escaped in her own clothes, but I suppose she thought it more romantic to put on her brother's regimentals." — pp. 239-245.
Mr. Sheridan was early in life acquainted with Mr. Windham, but it was not until he had arrived at the meridian of his fame as a comic writer, that he was introduced to Mr. Fox. The fol- lowing account of this introduction which seems to have taken place about the year 1778, was transmitted to Mr. Moore, by Lord John Townsend : —
" * I made the first dinner-party at which they met, having told Fox that all the notions he might have conceived of Sheridan's talents and genius from the comedy of ' The Rivals,' &c. would fall infinitely short of the admiration of his astonishing powers, which I was sure he would entertain at the first interview. The first interview between them (there were very few present, only Tickell and myself, and one or two more) I shall never forget. Fox told me, after, breaking up from dinner, that he had always tliought Hare, after my uncle, Charles
444 Sheridan's Memoir^.
Townsend, the wittiest man he ever met with, hut that. Sheridan sur- passed them both infinitely ; and Sheridan told me next day that he was quite lost in admiration of Fox, and' that it was a puzzle for him to say what he admired most, his commanding' superiority of talent and uni- versal knowledge, or his playful fancy, artless manners, and benevolence of heart, which showed itself in every g'ood word he uttered.' "—- p. 211.
In the year 1780, Sheridan enlisted himself under the banners of the Rockingham party, and he was soon compelled to speak on a petition presented, affecting his own election. The follow- ing anecdote respecting that speech, is worth recording : —
" It was on this night, as Woodfall used to relate, that Mr. Sheri*. dan, after he had spoken, came up to him in the gallery, and asked, with much anxiety, what he thought of his first attempt. The answer of Woodfall, as he had the courage afterwards to own, was, ' I am sorry to say I do not think that this is your line — you had much better have stuck to your former pursuits.' On hearing' which, Sheridan rested his head upon his hand for a few minutes, and then vehemently exclaimed, ' It is in me, however, and, by G — , it shall come out.' "—pp. 256-7.
The coalition ministry which soon after succeeded, was formed contrary to the advice of Mr. Sheridan, and was ruined by a mea- sure in which Mr. Sheridan had as little concurrence. The fact is, that, at that time and until the close of Hastings' impeach- ment, the ascendency which Burke had over Mr. Fox's mind was almost single and undivided. It was that sort of ascendency which undoubted genius, persevering industry and resolution, and ardour of purpose, must create for themselves over a mind even of far superior capacity, when influenced by an excess of good nature, by generous confidence, aided by indolence and dissipation. The same vehemence and impetuosity of mind Avhich had originated the India bill, hurried on the impeachment of Warren Hastings ; but it seems problematical, whether that attempt would have seized upon the sympathies and affections of the members of the house of commons, if the ample details and elaborate illustrations of Burke, though accompanied with a torrent of passionate in- vective, had not been strongly supported by the warm and heart- stirring appeals of Sheridan. Burke's manner and tone of delivery never did justice to his own speeches ; but there was something in Sheridan's address which, when he collected all his powers and was conscious of his scope, was well suited to interest and to kindle a popular audience. There Avas an air of frankness, a look of dignity, a countenance announcing something of a warm and congenial disposition, and a tone of urbanity, in all of which
Sheridan's Memoirs. 445
his fellow countryman was particularly deficient. The effect of Mr. Sheridan's speech on the Begums of Oude is admitted to have been electric ; and we cannot doubt that much of his success on this occasion was owing to the circumstance, that others had exhausted the attention of the house, and overwhelmed its patience by exhibiting vehemence instead of imparting it, and by discharging their own animosity, rather than exciting the sensi- bility of their auditors. Mr. Sheridan confined himself to one particular subject : he was aware of the importance of his task, he mastered all the details connected with his own department, and his clear and pointed history of facts Avas gradually wrought up into an earnest, spirit-stirring appeal. The kindness of his nature, and that good sense of his, Avhich always enabled him to appreciate exactly the impression he was making, protected him at every moment of his progress from any intensity of expression, such as might anticipate rather than forward the sentiments of his hearers ; until having won their confidence and concurring judg- ment, by the plainness and forcible simplicity of his statements, he proceeded to indulge in that vehemence of address, and in those pathetic amplifications and exaggerations by which those whom he addressed were completely carried away, as they were only following up the progress of their own emotions ; and ordinary language and ordinary sense were lost before the tonent of those passions which he had thus artfully and latently inspired. There is another circumstance, too, which may deserve to be taken into consideration, to account for the effect which Mr. Sheridan's eloquence had, when he gave full career to his imagi- nation. The extravagancies in which he indulged were certainly excesses which cannot be justified in point of taste. His allegori- cal personifications, his bombastic /metaphors, and periods full of sound, signifying nothing, would not have succeeded in the mouth of any other speaker: nor would he himself have ventured upon them, except when he felt that he was in full possession both of the sense and of the feelings of his audience. Such passages standing by themselves, and when extracted as specimens of Mr. Sheridan's eloquence, have quite a contrary effect. They strike the reader as turgid, hyperbolical, and preposterous. They are so far from exciting or animating the passions when perused, that they disgust and revolt. The prettynesses and jingling antitheses which are interspersed, only show how much trouble these pas- sages must have cost in the closet, and how diligently they must have been premeditated and elaborated. But we are well as- sured, that at the time of delivery these vicious and ornamental appendages, not only did not destroy the effect of the other parts of the speech, but they were so artfully introduced in the ardour
VOL. I. 2 H
446 Sheridan's Memoirs.
and delirium of the enthusiasm which had been previously excited, that they completed and harmonized with the impression which had been already made . The conviction of heartiness which Mr. Sheridan's manner gave, would not of itself have supported these daring flights, but the keenness and sagacity of his remarks gave the pledge of a sound and clear understanding ; and he, who could so well detect and expose the absurdities of others, and could descry with a glance the slightest impropriety, had pre-occupied his audience with a notion that they might let their own minds safely follow the track of his. Thus his brilliant Avit served not only as an assailant of other's folly, but as a shield and a cloak for his own.
The forte of Sheridan's mind was a quick penetration and prac- tical good sense. His foible was vanity, and a love of manoeuv- ring and intrigue. His wit was brilliant, improved by practice, and mellowed as well as matured by assiduous cultivation. He had no sensibility to the beauties of external nature. He was very deficient in general information. He had not, therefore, any of those materials which are necessary for a vigorous and sustained excursion of the imagination. His knowledge was of mankind, and his fancy was best employed in giving livelier opposition to those ludicrous images in life, which his shrewdness detected, and his memory reproduced at the moment best suited for illustration. He could expose the inconsistencies of folly, and disentangle in broad daylight the sophistries and absurd contradictions of fraud. To all the poetry of eloquence he was by nature a stranger. It was only by imitation after elaborate study, and in premeditated periods, that he ever made any attempts of this higher class.
We have before observed, that vanity and a love of finesse were among the greatest foibles in Sheridan's character. At the time of the Regency question, he embarrassed Mr. Fox by entering into a negociation, and into a pledge for continuing Lord Thur- low in the chancellorship. At the formation of Mr. Addington's ministry, some negociations took place between him and the court ; and Avhatever the particulars of his conduct might be, whether he undertook to represent what would be the stipulations insisted upon by the whig party, and exaggerated their pretensions, or whether in the vanity of the moment, he treated as if he him- self were the representative of that party — it is certain that in the result, although he did not promote himself, he lost much of Mr. Fox's confidence. During the Addington administration, Mr. Sheridan supported it until near its close ; and Mr. Moore has published a letter from him to the minister, upon his receiving from the prince the appointment of receiver in the duchy of Cornwall, which shows that he was on terras of good understand-
Shferidan*s Memoirs. 447
ingwith that statesman. In 1806, he was only intrusted by the Fox and Grenville administration with the same office of treasurer of the navy, which he had held under the coalition more than twenty years before ; an office without any rank, and for which, too, he was particularly unqualified. Upon Mr. Fox's death he intended to stand as candidate for Westminster, but withdrew upon understanding that Lord Grenville had pledged himself to another candidate. Upon the dissolution of parliament, in the spring of 1807, he stood, and was returned for West- minster ; and at the commencement of the Regency, when Lords Grenville and Grey were summoned to the council, Mr. Sheridan had an opportunity of revenging himself for his first disappoint- ment at Vvestminster, by preparing a rival form for the regent's address to parliament. This measure, which led to the treaty with Mr. Percival, enabled Mr. Sheridan to pique those confederates of his own party whom he least liked, and to show his ascendancy at Carlton House, but at the same time it completely subverted his own party. On Mr. Percival's death, he was again the medium of negociation with the same noblemen, but the treaty failed ; and Sheridan's conduct, in concealing a message from Lord Yarmouth, accelerated its failure. A more lamentable instance cannot be produced of the manner in which cunning disappoints its own j)rojects, and reduces the greatest understandings to the level of the weakest, than the fact that Sheridan, when he stooped to be- come an intriguer, intrigued only to blunder, and blundered so as to ruin. We insert Mr. Moore's summary account of his political and private life :—
" His political character stands out so fiilly in these pages, that it is needless, by any comments, to attempt to raise it into stronger relief. If to watch over the rights of the subject, and guard them against the encroachments of power, be, even in safe and ordinary times, a task full of usefulness and honour, how much more glorious to have stood centinel over the same sacred trust, through a period so trying as that with which Sheridan had to struggle — when liberty itself had become suspected and unpopular — when authority had succeeded in identify- ing patriotism with treason, and when the few remaining and de- serted friends of freedom were reduced to take their stand on a nar- rowing isthmus, between anarchy on one side, and the angry incur- sions of power on the other. How manfully he maintained his ground in a position so critical, the annals of England and of the champions of her constitution will long testify. The truly national spirit, too, with which, when that struggle was past, and the dangers to liberty from without seemed greater than any from within, he forgot all past differences in the one common cause of Englishmen, and, while others " gave but the left hand to the country," proffered her both of his, stamped a seal of sincerity on his public conduct, which, in the eyes of all England, authenticated it as genuine patriotism.
2 H 2
448 Sheridan's Memoirs.
" To his own party, it is true, his conduct presented a very different phasis ; and if implicit partisanship were the sole merit of a public man, his movements, at this and other junctures, were far too inde- pendent and unharnessed to lay claim to it. But, however useful may be the bond of party, there are occasions that supersede it ; and, in all such deviations from the fidelity which it enjoins, the two questions to be asked are — were they, as regarded the public, right ? were they, as regarded the individual himself, unpurchased? To the former question, in the instance of Sheridan, the whole country responded in the affirmative ; and to the latter, his account with the Treasury, from first to last, is a sufficient answer." — pp. 705, 706.
" To claim an exemption for frailties and irregularities on the score of genius, while there are such names as Milton and Newton on re- cord, were to be blind to the example which these and other great men have left, of the grandest intellectual powers combined with the most virtuous lives. But, for the bias given early to the mind by education and circumstances, even the least charitable may be inclined to make large allowances. We have seen how idly the young days of Sheridan were wasted — ^how soon he was left (in the words of the Prophet) ' to dwell carelessly, and with what an undisciplined temperament he was thrown upon the world, to meet at every step that never-failing spring of temptation, which, like the fatal fountain in the Garden of Armida, sparkles up for ever in the pathway of such a man : —
" ' Un fonte sorge in lei, che vaghe e monde ^ Ha I'acque si, che i riguardanti asseta,
Ma dentro ai freddi suoi cristalli asconde Di tosco estran malvagita secreta.'
" Even marriage, which is among the sedatives of other men's lives, but formed a part of the romance of his. The very attractions of his wife increased his danger, by doubling, as it were, the power of the world over him, and leading him astray by her light as well as by his own. Had his talents, even then, been subjected to the manage of a profession, there was still a chance that business, and the round of regularity which it requires, might have infused some spirit of order into his life. But the stage — his glory and his ruin — opened upon him ; and the property of which it made him master was exactly of that treacherous kind, which not only deceives a man himself, but enables him to deceive others, and thus combined all that a person of his carelesness and ambition had most to dread. An uncertain in- come, which, by eluding calculation, gives an excuse for improvidence ; and, still more fatal, a facility of raising money, by which the lesson, that the pressure of distress brings with it, is evaded till it comes too late to be of use — such was the dangerous power put into his hands, in his six-and-twentieth year, and amidst the intoxication of as deep and quick draughts of fame as ever young author quaffed. Scarcely had the zest of this excitement begun to wear off, when he was sud-
##
Sheridan's Memoirs. 449
denly transported into another sphere, where successes still more flat- tering to his vanity awaited him. Without any increase of means, he became the companion and friend of the first nobles and princes, and paid the usual tax of such unequal friendships, by, in the end, losing them and ruining himself. The vicissitudes of a political life, and those deceitful vistas into office that were for ever opening on his party, made his hopes as fluctuating and uncertain as his means, and encouraged the same delusive calculations on both. He seemed, at every new turn of affairs, to be on the point of redeeming himself; and the confidence of others in his resources was no less fatal to him than his own, as it but increased the facilities of ruin that surrounded him.
" Such a career as this — so shaped towards wrong, so inevitably devious — it is impossible to regard otherwise than with the most charitable allowances. It was one long paroxysm of excitement — no pause for thought — no inducements to prudence — the attractions all drawing the wrong way, and a voice, like that which Bossuet describes, crying inexorably from behind him, ' On, On !' Instead of wonder- ing at the wreck that followed all this, our only surprise should be, that so much remained uninjured through the trial, — that his na- tural good feelings should have struggled to the last with his habits, aiid his sense of all that was right in conduct so long survived his -'^bility to practise it." — pp. 713-715.
These are the best passages in the book. The moralist would have spoken more seriously of Sheridan's failings, and the tory may inquire whether he e\'er served his country, except when he differed from his party. But looking upon Mr. Moore as a friendly judge, with no great pretensions to the censor's chair, we see little to condemn in the summaries now laid before our jeaders.
>-u' Of other portions of the narrative, we must speak differently. The attempt to impute Sheridan's misfortunes to his connection with Carlton House is inexcusable. Mr. Moore may have his own reasons for hating and traducing one whom Sheridan most highly esteemed, and may choose his own time for manifesting the fury and impotence of his displeasure. But to embalm this odious feeling in pages which are dedicated to the memory of Sheridan, is the height of inconsistency. What language did the great orator employ, when speaking of that exalted personage whom Mr. Moore takes every opportunity to insult? We extract a few passages from a letter addressed to the Prince of Wales, in 1808, or 1809:—
■> " ♦ It is matter of surprise to myself, as well as of deep regret, that I 'Should have incurred the appearance of ungrateful neglect and dis- respect towards the person to whom I am most obliged on earth, to whom I feel the most ardent, dutiful, and affectionate attachment, and
450 Sheridan*s Memoirs.
in whose service I would readily sacrifise my life. Yet so it is, and to nothing but a perverse combination of circumstances, which would form no excuse were I to recapitulate them, can I attribute a conduct so strange on my part ; and from nothing but Your Royal Highness's kindness and benignity alone can I expect an indulgent allowance and oblivion of that conduct : nor could I even hope for this were I not conscious of the unabated and unalterable devotion towards Your Royal Highness which lives in my heart, and will ever continue to be its pride and boast.' " — p. 633.
** * Most justly may Your Royal Highness answer to all this, why have I not sooner stated these circumstances, and confided in that uniform friendship and protection which I have so long experienced at your hands. I can only plead a nervous, procrastinating nature, abetted, perhaps, by sensations of, I trust, no false pride, which, how- ever I may blame myself, impel me involuntarily to fly from the risk of even a cold look from the quarter to which I owe so much, and by whom to be esteemed is the glory and consolation of my private and public life.
*' * One point only remains for me to intrude upon Your Royal High- ess' s consideration, but it is of a nature fit only for personal com- munication. I therefore conclude, with again entreating Your Royal Highness to continue and extend the indulgence which the imperfec- tions in my character have so often received from you, and yet to be assured that there never did exist to Monarch, Prince, or man, a firmer or purer attachment than I feel, and to my death shall I feel, to you, my gracious Prince and Master.' " — pp. 634, 635.
Were these descriptions of the king true or false? if true, Mr. |
Moore is a slanderer ; if false, Mr. Sheridan was a sycophant. '
Were these expressions of attachment sincere or feigned ? if sin- cere, the king is a man to be loved as well as honoured ; if feigned, Sheridan is an object, not of pity, but of contempt. It is idle, therefore, to say or to insinuate, that his ruin originated at Carl- ton House. Mr. Moore himself proves that the king was per- severingly kind to an old, and we readily admit a faithful servant, long after the noblemen with whom Sheridan was once so intimate had renounced his society and friendship. The real and sufficient cause, in both instances, is perfectly well known to Mr. Moore. " The same charm," he observes, (p. 682,) " that once had served to give a quicker flow to thought, was now (in 1812) employed to muddy the stream, as it became painful to contemplate what was at the bottom of it." " The rubicon of the cup was passed," and Sheridan was forsaken by the noble and the royal, because he had forsaken himself. It was not to be expected that Mr. Moore could draw the proper inference from Sheridan's wretched fate. But those who have no private pique to gratify, and can admire
Sheridan's Memoirs. 45t
genius without apologizing for vice, may point to Sheridan as a proof that reputation is not to be dispensed with. First rate talents, a kind disposition, great success, extensive popularity — all these he possessed and abused. The character of an upright, virtuous man he never did possess, and he died in misery for want of it.
With few and very few exceptions, the volume before us dis- plays all the peculiarities of Mr. Moore's style in an intense degree. It is, in almost every part, overflowing with brilliancy, and redundant in ornament. There is scarcely a paragraph with- out some learned allusion, some forced simile, some unusual and unexpected epithet, or some jingle of words wrought up into a sort of epigram. The airiness and sketchiness of Mr. Moore's manner is, indeed, peculiarly unsuited to any subject involving political details, and relating to the concerns and contests of actual life. He has shown himself, on other occasions, well qualified to please by lighter compositions, in which occasional gleams of tenderness redeem his exuberance of fantastic imagery, and of unreal, unpicturesque description. With a turn of mind as benevolent as spiritualized epicurism will allow, he would sometimes move the sensibility of his readers, if he did not start at every turn with an ambition to display his wit, and to show that the pathos of the moment is merely a mood of his fancy. There are few, indeed, of Mr. Moore's compositions in which the reader is not interrupted to think of the author, and we know not of any surer test than this for discriminating affected from simple compositions. Mr. Moore's productions, whether in poetry or prose, are often glittering and luminous, but they are never trans- parent. The sentiments Avhich they are intended to convey, are never impressed in one continued act ; there is no flow of thought or feeling, but a thousand sparkling jetties. He does not appeal to the world as his fellow creatures, possessed of judgments and affections, but treats them as spectators of an entertainment, who must be amused and dazzled by tricks of legerdemain and artifi- cial fireworks; — as if the highest merit of his performance, rested in the greetings and plaudits of the audience to the exhi-- bitor of the show.
The following quotations will be sufficient to illustrate the per- verse and misplaced ingenuity to which we advert. Mr. Moore after quoting several passages indicating the process of polish in the "School for Scandal" adds, "It will be observed from all I have cited, that much of the original material is still preserved throughout ; but like the ivory melting in the hands of Pygmalion it has lost its first rigidity and roughness, and assuming at every
452 Buckingham's Travels.
touch some variety of aspect seems to have gained new grace by every change." (p. 173.)
" She" (Miss Linley) " was conveyed by Sheridan in a sedan chair from her father's house in the Crescent, to a post chaise which waited for them on the London road, and in which she found a woman whom her lover had hired, as a sort of protecting Minerva, to accompany them in their flight." (p. 49.)
" Ovid represents the Deity of Light, (and on an occasion, too, which may be called a Regency question,) as crowned with movable rays which might be put off when too strong or daz- zling. But according to this principle (of the tories,) the crown of Prerogative must keep its rays fixed and immovable, and (as the poet expresses it,) circa caput omne micantes.^^
In the description of Devonshire House, the learned allusion which is introduced is at once forced and erroneous. We are told that it was " the rendezvous of all the wits and beauties of fashionable life, where politics were taught to wear their most attrac- tive form, and sat enthroned like Virtue among the Epicureans with all the Graces and Pleasures for handmaids." Now it is well known that the goddess of the Epicureans was Pleasure and not Virtue ; and Cicero informs us, that it was observed by a rival sect, the Stoics, not in compliment but in derision that they enthroned Pleasure, and made the Virtues |ierJ?,^dmaid§. , .,, , „.
«*►
Art. XII. — Travels among the Arab Tribes inhabiting the Coun- tries East of Syria and Palestine, including a Journey from Nazareth to the Mountains beyond the Dead Sea, and from thence through the Plains of the Hauran, and, by the Valley of the Orontes, to Seleucia, Antioch, and Aleppo. By J. S. Buckingham, Member of the Literary Societies of Bombay, Madras, and Bengal. London, 1825. 4to. Longman and Co.
A PREFACE is generally to a book what the scrolls and finger- boards are to a tavern,^ — its main object is to put the reader in good humour with his author. Just as mine host takes care to notify his excellent accommodations and choice cordials, in gay colours, and letters an inch long: an author seldom fails to throw out a hint as to the best part of his work, and the passages most desening of attention. Now, if this criterion be applied to the book before us, we shall find that, like the broad-tailed
mm I J t^^^'mrmmm'mffmtlllHm
Buckingham's Travels. 453
sheep of Asia and Africa, it is most to be valued for its nether appendage : or, in other Avords, that this respectable quarto of six ' Jiundred pages was mainly designed as a vehicle for its Appendix, since more than one-half, and much the most prominent sections <of the Preface, are introductory to this bulky Supplement. Sixty-seven double-columned quarto pages in a very small type, with copious notes in a still smaller character, may be supposed to contain some matter for animadversion ; and there are readers, perhaps, who will think we do Mr. Buckingham an injustice in not following up his hint, and reviewing his Appendix rather than •his Tour ; but he seems, in truth, so ready and so well-prepared to light his own battles, that he will not quarrel with us if we express a wish to remain hors de combat. Besides which his con- troversy with our brother reviewers has been already decided, precisely where it ought to be — in a court of law : and Mr. Bankes, we may be assured, will not long remain silent, and thus tacitly acknowledge the justice of the awkward allegations contained in this polemical counterscarp. There is one part of Mr. Bucking- ham's outworks, however, wliich does not seem so invulnerable as those which we have prudently resolved to leave untouched ; and, if we succeed in making a breach there, we shall go a good way towards clearing the memory of an estimable man from a stain which it is Mr. Buckingham's intention to leave upon it. We allude to his charge against the late John Lewis Burckhardt of having most wantonly, without the smallest provocation, cir- culated a tissue of falsehoods defamatory of his character, almost at the same period that letters were passing between them filled with terms of the warmest regard. This certainly argues great inconsistency, and an entire want of proper feeling on the part of Burckhardt, whose language, Mr. Babington says, (pp. 623, 662.) was such " as it is beneath the dignity of a gentleman to use." It is, therefore, the more remarkable that none of the author's friends or enemies thought of preserv ing a copy of this memorable "paper;" but the most marvellous circumstance of all is, that Burckhardt's •* Reply" to Mr. Buckingham's comments on this abusive attack no where makes its appearance. That " Reply offered," we are told, " only fresh insults, fresh calumnies, vituperations, and abuse, in return for the most generous attempt to retrieve" the offender " from error, and to bring him back to reason and truth." (p. 660.) That paper, therefore, would have afforded the strongest evidence on Mr. Buckingham's behalf, and have formed a fine contrast to the friendly and gentle tone of his own remonstrance, which betrays not a particle of rancour or resent- ment. The omission ofit consequently is a mystery. The virulence of his adversary, moreover, seems to Mr, Buckingham so extra-
454 Buckingham's TraveU,
ordinary, as to be explicable only by the supposition that it originated in jealousy of his having trodden the same ground. *' If I had gone by the sea coast to Aleppo," he observes, (p. 654.) " I should not have trodden any new ground, nor have trenched at all on provinces of which he was, till that period, the only person who had any information." (Had Burckhardt so soon forgotten Seetzen ?) " The change of route drove me into a portion of the country which he knew I should bring away ample accounts of, though travelling in haste, from my known industry, method^, and indefatigable habits : he knew, also, that if ever I pubhshed I should make a better book than himself, and not only forestall, but, probably, also eclipse his account of those unvisited regions." Those who knew Burckhardt assure us that so mean a jealousy was quite foreign to his nature ; we are, therefore, tempted to start a counter-supposition, which will, perhaps, do away all that is wonderful, and explain all that appears inexplica- ble in this part of the history of Mr. Buckingham's wrongs ; — it is simply this, that Burckhardt had discovered that the secret of his country and design, imparted to Mr. Buckingham in the confi- dence of unreserved friendship, had been disclosed by that gentleman to persons to whom the former was an entire stranger, without even an injunction to secresy. And yet this was a secret of no small importance to Burckhardt, and to this, no doubt, he alluded when he charged Mr. Buckingham with " imprudently and unguardedly abusing his confidence." (p. 656.)
We now turn to a more agreeable subject, the book itself. It is drawn up in the form of a journal, from notes made on the spot, (X) " neither enlarged nor filled up in any extensive de- gree, (compare p. 298 with p. 640,) because the roughness and boldness of the original picture will be far more acceptable than a more highly polished tablet, in which the spirit might have been refined away by too much care in the subsequent retouch- ing." (p. X.)
•' The greatest attraction of this volume," says the author towards the close of his Preface, (p. xii.) " will undoubtedly be its containing the fullest and most accurate descriptions of numerous ruined towns and cities in the great plain of the Hauran, the ancient Auranites, the very names of many of which have not before been made public." In the first of these assertions we entirely concur with Mr. Buckingham ; for the only part of the book in which he had not been anticipated, is the journey from Amman to Oom- er-russas, a distance of little more than thirty geographical miles. With regard to the remainder of the work, certain deductions must be made before it can be duly estimated. Precision and
Buckingham's Travels, 455
accuracy, copiousness of detail, and vividness of description, can- not be expected from a traveller who had almost every privation to contend with ; little preliminary knowledge, nothing but an imperfect acquaintance with the language, and neither leisure nor opportunity minutely to observe the places which he visited. His ignorance of the different styles of architecture continually involves him in a maze of fruitless conjectures as to the age of the ruins which he describes ; and his knowledge of Greek, which scarcely extended beyond the alphabet, was not sufficient to enable him to copy an uninjured inscription with any accuracy ; go that never were poor antiquaries more tantalized with an un- intelligible congeries of Greek vowels and consonants thrown together haphazard, since the days of Dr. Dallaway. (See Constantinople, Anc. and Mod.) And yet Mr. Buckingham showed all these inscriptions to Mr. Bankes, and (mir'abile dictu!) compared them with Burckhardt's transcripts, which may, for the most part, be easily restored, (pp. 303. 640.)
Notwithstanding these deductions, we may say, with Mr. Gif- ford (p. 622.) " we are glad that the book has been published. It is certainly interesting and important, in some degree, though it may, to some readers, appear tedious in more places than one."
The map, which was constructed from the manuscript journals of the author's track, "and from the numerous sets of bearings and distances taken at almost every station of note on the way," is liable to the same objections as the rest of the book. If it were certain that these *' bearings," &c. could be trusted, this would be a valuable addition to our geographical knowledge ; but till they have been verified by some traveller, whose accuracy is less disputable, it can only be considered as a temporary substi- tute for something better. We are far from wishing to depreciate or undervalue labours of this kind. In a country of so much interest, and so imperfectly known, every approximation to the truth is of importance; more especially as many years may elapse before that tract is visited by a traveller gifted with the resolution, address, and acquirements of Mr. Buckingham — by any one, in short, who has either the inclination or the means of correcting his inaccuracies.
After these prefatory observations, the reader will not be surprised if he find, in the passages laid before him, the same want of preliminary knowledge, and the same inaccuracies as were charged upon the "Travels in Palestine;" a charge which, we must confess, Mr. Buckingham has not always succeeded in rebutting. For our own parts we shall content ourselves with giving an abstract of those parts of his book which appear most interesting, without stopping to discuss knotty points or travelling
456 Buckingham's Travels.
over trodden ground, in order to detect latent errors or' evert palpable mistakes.
The volume before us, as well as its predecessor, the " Travels in Palestine," arose from an entirely accidental circumstance. Mr. Buckingham was requested by the late Mr. Lee, of Alexan- dria, who had entered into some commercial speculations Avith Mahummud Aly, Bashaw of Egypt, to be the bearer of despatches to India, offering powerful inducements to the mercantile houses in that country to open an active commerce Avith Europe by the Avay of Suez and Cairo.
By a singular concurrence of circumstances, this commission, which promised to carry Mr. Buckingham post-haste from Aleppo to Bassora, by the most easy and open route, (p. 646.) led him a long and fatiguing dance through some of the least frequented and most dangerous parts of the country beyond the Jordan, and did not bring him to the first of those towns till he had traversed Syria in almost every direction, and seen every thing worth seeing in it. Those circumstances so unfortunate for the author, but so fortunate for us, for to them alone are we indebted for the present volume, were briefly as follows: on reaching Soor (Tyre), a few days after he had sailed from Alexandria, in January, 1816, he found it necessary to go back to Jaffa in order to procvire a firman from the Bashaw of Acre, (p. 657.) Thence he proceeded to Jerusalem, became acquainted with Mr. Bankes, and accompanied him in an excursion to Dgerash and Nazareth, on finding the upper parts of Syria almost impassable on account of intestine wars, (p. 1.) From Nazareth he crossed over the Jordan, alone, with the intention of making his way through the desert between the Dead Sea and Baghdad. It is strange that Burckhardt, Avho had written to advise him of the perils of the road, (p. 656.) should forget to mention the Wahabees, whom he knew to be masters of all that tract of country; but so it was ; and Mr. Buckingham had tlie mortification of learning that untoward circumstance for the first time, at Oom-el-russas, (p. 101.) on the borders of the desert; he was, therefore, obliged to retrace his steps. This carried him directly through the country which he Avished to see, the Hauran and the Ledjah ; for it would have been taking a Avide circuit to have returned to the coast and gone by sea to Scanderoon, and thence to Aleppo ; he therefore resolved to make his Avay by the most direct route ; but, as travelling in a straight line is not ahvays practicable in Syria, he was com- pelled to make several zigzags, and Avas unable to reach Aleppo till the middle of May, 1816, only four months, and a half from the time of his leaving Alexandria.
From Nazareth he set out for Assalt, (the Szalt of Burckhardt
TfiK^^-
Buckingham's TVaveis. 457
and Seetzen,) accompanied by a christian Arab, of the former place, named Georgis; on the 20th February, 1816, having pre- pared " for bis new and hazardous journey," through " a country hitherto untravelled by Europeans," (though visited only a short time before by the travellers just named,) " by assuming an Arab dress of the meanest kind." (p. 2.) His baggage was left in the care of Mr. Bankes, who was to convey it to Damascus, where it would be found by its owner if he should be obliged to travel northwards. The negligence of his guide prevented him from accompanying a party of traders who were returning to the town of Assalt, of which they Avere natives ; he was, therefore, obliged to travel with no other escort than that man, through the dangerous valley of the Jordan, (p. 6.) an act of hardihood which astonished thesheikhof a village where they stopped to take some refreshment. In the afternoon of the hrst day they reached a narrow pass between two apj)roaching hills, which brought them into the valley of the Jordan, and they crossed that river at " two hours, or four miles distance to the southward of its outlet from the lake of Tiberias." It was of some depth on the western side, but quite shallow in the middle, a mere brook or torrent, no where more than one hundred feet wide, flowing slowly over a sandy and pebbly bed, (p. 7.)
They met with a very hospitable reception from a party of the Beni Ameer-al-Ghazowee, encamped on the eastern side of the river, but were deprived of their night's rest by a tremendous hurricane which laid every tent low, and gave very sufficient evidence of the comfort of living in a camp. The next day being fair, they continued their course southward along the bank of the river, saw the modern mart and ancient columns of Beisan, at a distJince on the opposite side ; paid a toll to the tribe of Beni Sheikh Hussein, through one of whose encampments they passed ; left Tabakat Fehhil, or Jarim Mooz, where there are ancient tombs like those of Oomkais (Gamala), to the east of the road, and at noon Avere abreast of Fakfiris, at the foot of Jebel Adjeloon. At its base there are many ruined buildings with the appearance of aqueducts along the uneven parts of the hill. It is watered by a stream running into the Jordan.
This pass is noted for robbers, and here they were met by a party of eight men, two on horseback and six on foot, but happily none of them were providedwith fire-arms. "When they advanced in a sudden rush to surround us," says Mr. Buckingham, (p. 11.) '• I discharged my musket at random, and the sound was as that of a cannon, rolling and reverberating through the hollows of the hills near us like the echoing of peals of thunder; the consterna- tion which this occasioned was such, that the Arab horses stalled
458 Buckingham's Travels.
and reared, and the men on foot ran with precipitation in oppo- site directions." The robbers hung about their rear for half an hour, but did not venture to make a second attack.
The ruins of an ancient town called Amatha, about two miles further on, are probably (ib.) those of'Amathus. They are more extensive than the remains of Jericho ; and on the hills above, there was another city, according to the Arabs, called Raajib, from which the Waadi Raajib runs down into the Jordan. Almost incessant rain drove the travellers for shelter into the village of Abu-el-Beady (Abu-Obeida), consisting of a few huts, built round the shrine of a Musselman saint, which, according to Mr. Buck- ' ingham's description, has nothing remarkable about it, except some Arabic inscriptions, which he could not decipher, and a piece of green glass, Avhich passes for an emerald. A cold wind and wet clothes are no promoters of sleep to those who pass the night a la belle ^toile, as was the lot of our travellers in this place ; they were, therefore, on the alert betimes in the morning, but their progress was soon arrested by a party of marauders driving home some captured cattle, and, but for the sanctity of Abu-el-Beady, under whose holy walls the travellers retreated, their own beasts would perhaps have been added to the train of the captors. Those Arabs were " outcasts of the tribe of Beni-Szakker, who occupy the desert to the east of the Dead Sea" (p. 15) ; as our travellers learnt soon afterwards from a party of the Beni-Abal, also on their return from a pedatory excursion. Two of the latter were engaged for the sum of six piastres (about four shillings), to escort them to Assalt , and travelling first S.E. and then E. they soon began to ascend the hills, which form the eastern boundary of the valley of the Jordan, saw tumuli, grottoes, a double aqueduct, and traces of many neighbouring buildings ; and passing through a passage singularly excavated, in a rock, and called Makhrook, soon afterwards reached the Zerkah (Jabok), "which discharges itself into the Jordan," as Mr. B. then discovered, " much further to the southward than is represented in the maps."
Arkoob Massaloobeah is the name of the steep hill which forms "the southern boundaiy of the stream," and while they were ascending it, their guides, seeing a fray in the plains below, between their comrades and the owners of the stolen cattle, cast offtheir upper garments, rushed on the two travellers, seized their muskets, and flew down the hill to the assistance of their friends. Mr. B. dismounted, pursued the man who had his gun, and "after a hard struggle, recovered it ;" not so his guide, who made no effort to recover his, but allowed it to be carried off without resistance. Anxious to reach the end of their journey before night closed in, they left their guides to fight their battle as they
Buekingham's Travels. 459
could, and just about sunset reached Assalt, after a narrow escape from two men who sprung upon them as they were turning the angle of a rocky pass, and seized their horses' bridles before they could put themselves into a posture of defence ; the mere sight of a musket was, however, sufficient — the robbers sued for mercy as soon as the piece was presented, and gladly sneaked away, but set up a shout of defiance when beyond the reach of a bullet.
Two remarkable features presented themselves in this part of their journey : the summit of Massaloobeah was only an elevated plain, the first step in the ascent from the valley of the Jordan ; and the soil, a fine light red mould, was covered with turf and thistles, many oak trees being also scattered over it. On this terrace there were evident vestiges of some very ancient city, particularly stone columns, with plain shafts and rude square capitals. " This spotis called by the Arabs, Massaera, or Mashaera, and there can be little doubt that the remains there are those of Machaerus." (p. 17.) El Meysera, the name given byBurckhardt, is not quite so like Machaerus, still less does the position of this place with respect to the Lake Asphaltites, agree with the data furnished by Josephus. (De Bello Jud. vii. 20, 21.)
The town of Assalt is placed on the eastern brow of the hill, considerably below its summit, but in a very commanding position. The mountain, of which this hill is one of the peaks, forms on its western declivity, not far below the highest ridge, another extensive terrace, well turfed and having abundance of Avood. This large undulating plain commands a magnificent view of the valley of the Jordan, from the Lake of Tiberias to the Bahr-el-Loot, (Sea of Lot,) as the Dead Sea is called " by all the Arabs of these parts." (p. 19) The upper part ofthis vale was then green with rising corn and occasionally diversified by " clusters of black Arab tents ;" but the lower portion between Abu-Obeida and "the Sea of Death," was white, parched and barren. The snow on the summit of the mountain, presented " one unbroken mass hardened into solid frost;" and Mr. Buckingham, "from a rough estimate of his progressive ascent, considers the height to be about five thousand feet from the level of the ocean." " On the very peak of the highest eminence stands a tomb, called the tomb of Neblee Osha, or the prophet Joshua ; and the belief is general that the successor of Moses was buried here."
Assalt, of whiqh there is a pretty vignette, faces the east and north, is built on a veiy steep declivity, the houses rising over each other in terraces, and the whole is surmounted by a large and ancient castle, much resembling the mansions of our feudal barons. " It is seated on the summit of a round-topped hill, composed of white limestone, out of which a deep and wide ditch has been
460 Buckingham's Travels.
excavated all round its base, so that it is literally founded on a rock. The building consists of an outer wall of enclosure, about one hundred yards square, with towers at each corner and in the centre of each of its sides. Within this enclosure is a square citadel and from twenty to thirty private dwellings, inhabited by Mahoramedans, connected, directly or indirectly, with the sheikh of the town. The general aspect of the castle is that of a work, of considerable antiquity, but there were no particular features decisive of its age or date of original construction. The masonry is good, and the stones are large, many of them six feet by three, and these smoothly hewn and neatly joined at the edges, but rough in the centre of the outer front, or what is called the rustic masonry of the Romans, like the work in the lower part of the castle of the Pisans or palace of David, at Jerusalem, which, indeed, this citadel of Assalt very strongly resembles. Mucli of the original pile was in ruins, but a portion of one of the square towers remained; the eastern face of this was about fifty feet high from the bottom of the ditch, even in its present state ; at the foot of this was a sloping mole, faced with smooth stones, forming a casing to the living rock on which the castle stood, and this casing of masonry presented appearances of the marks of water, with which the ditch had no doubt formerly been filled. Within the castle is a fine spring of water, and from the Avell in which it is contained nearly the whole of the town is supplied. The original wall and tower have evidently been built upon by more modern hands, and of smaller and inferior materials; and the present gate of entrance into the castle has a pointed arch, well built, but doubtlessly constructed since the original erection of the edifice, being formed of smooth stones, unlike the rustic masonry of the castle generally, and of a smaller size as well as inferior workman- ship. In different parts of this motley building the Roman and the Saracen arch are seen together, but both of these appear to be modern additions, much posterior to the original building, the large rough stones, and the general aspect of which, give it the air of a place of higher antiquity than either Roman or Saracen times: the several portions are, however, now so confusedly mixed together, that it would require great skill and patience to separate the one from the other." (p. 41.)
Two swivels, apparently two-pounders, placed near one corner of the citadel, seemed to Mr. Buckingham to be English ship- swivels, and not more than fifty years old ; but no one, he adds, "knew any thing about their history," whence he takes occasion to fire off a tirade on the ignorance of barbarous nations " where no written or printed records are kept," forgetting that the whole depends upon a very erroneous presumption viz. that he had
Buckingham's Travels.
consulted every inhabitant of any age in the. place. The fact seems to be, that he either only half understood what he did hear, or mixing almost exclusively with the Christians who are all new comers at Assalt, met with no one whose fathers had known the place. Had he looked into Burckhardt's book before he published his own, he would then (p. 349.) have learnt that the castle of Szalt was possessed for several years by the famous Dhaher ebn Omar, who almost wholly rebuilt it, and no doubt caused those swivels to be conveyed thither.
All the inhabitants, "men, women, and children, were clothed in ^heep-skin jackets," (in the month of February,) "with the skin, looking like red leather, turnedoutside, and the wool Avithin,',' while "their florid complexions and. light brown hair," gave them the appearance of Europeans rather than of Asiatics, (pp. 22 — ^49.) The women disfigure themselves " after the manner of the Arabs," by staining their lips with a dark indigo blue, and marking the chin, forehead, and cheeks, with spots and lines of the same % colour. They ^re more profuse than their neighbours on the opposite side of the Jordan, in "their display of strings of gold and silver coins, with which they decorate their heads, arms, and neck." (p. 49.) In manners the inhabitants of both sexes resemble the Arabs of the desert more than those of the cultivated country, and their speech differs much from that of the Syrians. It is, says Burckhardt, (p. 351.) "the true Bedouin dialect," and it seems to have puzzled Mr. Buckingham a good deal, (p. 50.) notwith- standing the perfect ease with which, as his reader is led to conjec- ture, he entered into the various topics which were discussed in his presence, (pp. 22. 25. 33. 2ib.et passim.) Now as the Arabic language is proverbially copious, and has no resemblance whatever to any with whichMr. Buckingham was previously acquainted, it is but reason-? able to receive his reports of such conversations Avith large deduc- tions for an entire or partial misapprehension of Avhat was said.* The population of Assalt may be estimated at five or six hundred souls, occupying about one hundred dwellings, (p. 27.) the number of Christians being nearly equal to thatof Mahommedans, (p. 51.) or according to Burckhardt, (p. 349.) as one to four. The former here enjoy a degree of toleration very unusual in Mahommedan countries, in return for Avhich they abstain from pork and spirits. In manners, habits, and hospitality, they closely resemble the
I II I I- I I » II ii I ■ ■ I im ■■! I .11 I
.-..:.: ■■ . ;. . i . ; ... , 'IK ^t. ' : . :
* The most suspicious part of Bruce's Travels had long ago appeared to us to be the account of his voyage to the mouth of the Red Sea, and the dialogues with his Rcis, detailed witli so much complacency : when his journals came to light not a trace of that voyage was to be found ; yet we believe the voyage was really made, but that the embellishments were purely fictitious.^. . .:, 4. Aiv^^.w/*;..-J VOL I. 2 I
''^'^•"^pppc
4^ Bucltingbam's Travels.
Bedouins. The author met with a warm and hospitable recep- tion at the house of Aioobe, (Job,) a Christian merchant, who, like his namesake of old, was " as renowned for his piety as he was celebrated for his wealth." Here he supped, and was visited by almost all the heads of families in the town; after supper ' there were card parties in different quarters of the room, all sitting . on the ground, and having stools of about a foot in height to serve for card tables." (p. 23.) Their names of the cards were Italian, an indication probably of the country whence they came. Before nine o'clock the party broke up, and the travellers were taken to sleep at another house, the mistress of whiph. w>as ^a widow related to the guide Georgis. lijii b-iri-Aii
" She received us," says Mr. Buckingham, (p. 24.) " kindly, and insisted on going through the ceremony of washing my feet, ob- served, as I understood, among the Christians of Assalt to all strangers who come among them as guests or visitors." Her house consisted of two rooms only, one above, and the other below ; the former of which served as a store-room, the latter for all domestic purposes ; being a sitting-room by day, and a bed- room by night. Mats were spread on the floor for all to sleep upon, and the hospitable widow placed herself between her two guests, the children being stationed beyond them. As the chamber was only from twelve to fifteen feet square, there was little room to spare, and the widow, " as she turned sides for relief," was found rolling, sometimes towards one, and sometimes towards the other of her guests, to the disquiet of both. " Undressing did not appear to be the fashion of the place ;" and where, or how often they changed their clothes, the author either did not i inquire, or has forgotten to mention.
The houses at Assalt are very small, built of stone, and roofed with branches of trees and reeds, plastered over with clay. They have generally only one floor, and one room, subdivided into re- cesses. One part, as is common in the East, is a platform raised, two feet above the ground ; this is occupied by the family, the remainder is given up to the cattle and poultry. As the fire is made, and the cooking carried on in the upper division of the house, the inmates are immersed in a cloud of smoke, as long as there is any fresh fuel on the hearth, to the great advantage of their eyes and noses, wood and turf being the kinds of fuel used ; and chimnies a luxury unknown in Assalt. Windows are also a needless appendage in the estimation of the Assaltites, so that their houses are most comfortable residences in a cold night, or on a stormy day, for they have doors which are then shut. Those portals are as primitive as these troglodytic abodes, in which they serve both for doors and window shutters ; they all swing on au
Buckingham's Travels.. 463
upright beam attached to one of their sides, and terminated at top and bottom by pivots, which traverse in corresponding holes made to receive them in the cross beam above, and in the threshold below, just as is the case with the stone doors in the ancient sepulchres at Gamala and Jerusalem, (p. 34.) or those of the tower of Bozra. (p. 199.)
These people are great visitors, especially on Sundays and holidays ; and eatables are produced at every house. Delicacies, such as large lumps of butter without bread or any other accom- paniment ; goat or kid's flesh as tough as whitleather ; barley- paste stuffed with pepper and onions, and bowls of sugar and melted butter to pour over it, are ready for the stranger wherever he enters.
; tj' Credulity seems to have created not only a love of the marx^el- lous, but a disposition to deal in it ; and Mallim Georgis, the ' guide, swore by all the hairs in his beard, that he had seen one of the pillars at Oomkais, fly away through the air, as soon as a Mug- grebin, whom he met there, ordered it to rise and begone, (p. 36.) The reputation of the Barbaresques for skill in fiffding treasures, is no novelty in the East, as may be learnt from that curious passage in which Ebn Khaldoon has disclosed their artifices, and pointed out the folly of confiding in their promises. (Abdallatif par de Sacy, p. 509.)
The people of Assalt are all engaged in agriculture or com- merce ; the formeris principally the business of the Mussulmans, who cultivate the vallies, particularly Fahaez, or Feheis, about eight miles from the town : the latter is the vocation which most of the Christians follow. The labourers are paid by their food, together with one-fourth of the produce of the soil, and tradesmens' servants by the same portion of the profits of their trade, (p. 33.) This people may be said to be completely independent. The sheikh, or sheikhs, (for there were two when Buckhardt was there) " have no other authority than what a Bedouin chief exercises over his tribe," (Burck. p. 349.) ; and the only contributions paid, seem to be entirely voluntary. The influence, however, of this patriarchal sovereign is nearly as great as that of the regularly appointed governor in any of the provincial towns in Syria, (p. 28.)
Before we take leave of Assalt, we must observe that Mr. Buck- ingham exerted a very laudable diligence in obtaining the names, bearings, and distances ol places in this neighbourhood, especially such as had ruins in or near them ; and he has thus fixed no less than one hundred and four places, between Assalt, Amman, and Oom-el-russas. After remarking how thickly this region was studded with ancient towns, he adds, that " on a reference to the division of the places given to the tribe of Judah," (Jos. xv.)
2i2
464 Buckingham's Travels.
" there appear only three names in this modern list correspond- ing with those mentioned there." Assalt, for the city of Salt, (y.62.) ; El-AnabforAnab, (v. 50.) ; and El-Jehennah, probably for Janum, (v. 53.) Unluckily for Mr. Buckingham's observation, the city of Salt is an English translation of the Hebrew words Ir-ham- melach, and has therefore no sort of connection with any of the names in his list. Had he moreover " prayed his Piple well," he Avould have discovered that all the cities assigned to the tribe 'bf Judah, were on the western side of the Jordan. ' ' - '[\
, After a halt of five days at " the city of Salt," our travellers set forth, with the addition of Abu Farah, a man who " pleased'* Mr. Buckingham "much at their first interview," principally, it should seem, because "he was quite as much a Christian as 'a Moslem ; and ^lis faith and practice were so equally balanced that he might be taken for a connecting link between the two';'! (p. 50.) It happened, however, to be a Wednesday, the most Utl-' lucky day in the week, (Friday can hardly have a bad name in a Mussulman country), and the equipoised Abu Farah was so well J)alanced, that he could hardly be moved, till the threat of hiring another guide overcame his scrviples. At Anab, " no doubt the same as that mentioned by Joshua," (xv. 20.) there are one hun- dred families of true Troglodytes, inhabiting caves " probably more ancient than any buildings noAV existing ;" which, as such, "give the lie to the report of the spies sent by Moses," who certainly were liars, though he has not told us so ; for these caverns are only fit for men of ordinary dimensions. Our travellers " found there none of the milk and honey, with which this land is said to have flowed ;" but as sour milk and oil formed part of their dinner, and the inhabi- tants of these grottoes " are chiefly shepherds whose flocks browise on the steep sides of the hills near them," one should suppose that milk must sometimes floAV there now as as well as formerly. The ruins at Fahaez (Feheis), abound in Roman arches ; that town was therefore the seat of a Roman colony; and at Deer-el-Nassara, (the Christian convent,) a largermass of ruins, apparently of greater antiquity, is more than half overgrown with wood ; close to it there is a forest, Avhere there are abundance of the sedjer-el- finjan, (perhaps the Carobe or St. John's bread tree.) Sedjer-el- fush, a deciduous tree, and a beautiful evergreen, with "large and light green glossy leaves" and a red bark, called gaegob, (or keykab.) The timber of that tree was formerly, if it be not stilly used for making saddles. Between this place and Amman, they passed many ruined towns and saw many more at a distance; while crossing an extensive plain, the level of which appeared to be almost as elevated as the summits of " Lebanon and Anti- Lebauon;" however, as those mountains were covered with snow,
BucKingham's ' TVatJeZs. 46o
wfcUe iiis plain was sprinkled over with daisies'and large scarlet flowers, (ranunculuses, no doubt,) in great abundance, Mr. Buckingham justly infers that the top of Lebanon " must have been somewhat higher." The thermometer stood at 26 in the open air, probably it should be 36, or the author could never have been surprised at his feeling the cold severely, especially as he had lost his booza, or thick woollen cloak, in a card party at Assalt.
(P-35.) . . . , , .
At Amman, the ancient Philadelphia, which has thus re- covered its first name,* he observed, 1. one of the western gates, which escaped Burckhardt's notice ; 2. some sepulchral grottoes; 3. a building on the left hand of the eastern gate pC ti?ye castle, (Khallet Amman,) which was perhaps a gerusium, oi; ,vtowo-hall, where public assemblies Avere held ; 4. a cir- c,i4ar.,irpservoir, about twenty feet deep, with a flight of steps fi^scesipiding into it ; 5. the remains of some large edifice, where th^re are remains of Corinthian pediments, and fan-topped niches, as,,^fl ,the buildings at Gerash, This must be the temple ^rk^d (n) in Burckhardt's plan (p. 357.); 6. on the southern brow of the Castle-hill, but Avithin its walls, the ruins of a magni- fiicent edifice, too much destroyed for any plan of it to be taken ; 7i the building marked (h) in the same plan, which is so dif- ferently described by the two travellers that, but for its position, fip one could suppose they were speaking of the same object. Its north front has a Corinthian colonnade, according to Mr. Bijickingham, and its interior the appearance of an amphitheatre. Whether it were originally open, or covered ii^, he could not de- termine, but the cunei, or ciicular rows of ston,e benches in the ipterior, and an arched passage for admitting beasts into the arena, may be traced ; the way by which the spectators were admitted ^pnot so readily be ascertained. The execiitl^n of the architec- tural ornaments is " of the very best kind,*' 8. The theatre, a few paces to the south-west of this building, called by the Arabs, as we are here told, Serait-el-sultan, is not only one' of the finest of which there are now any remains, but might " by a very slight repair be made available for its original purpose," ,9. The por- tico (e,) 10. the temple (d,) 11. the bridge, which appears as if it had been anciently surmounted by some building ; 12, a building with a semicircular front towards the stream, appa- rently never finished, and perhaps connected with Vater-works and fortifications: 13. a larger and more perfect building, surmounted by a square tower and having Roman arches, no doubt Burckhardt's church, marked (b.) and 14. other buildings
* 'H ■irp^epoy''Aixuai>a, dr* ^Affrdprv, fha *i\ai4K<pfia. Stephan. De UtWixi.
466 Buckingham's Travels,
and columns to the north-west, with arches over the strean to the westward. .
A party of Bedouins, encamped in a hollow behind the theatre, had given the travellers a friendly reception, and it was at day- break on the following morning that Mr. Buckingham stole out to note down the observations now briefly enumerated. He was so much preoccupied by the variety of interesting objects which he saw, that time slipped away without being perceived, and three hours had elapsed before he returned to his hosts the Arabs. The sheikh was in high dudgeon ; accused him of being a Muggrebin magician, and, insisting on seeing his instruments and writings, laid hold of his arm and said he must search him. As his guide had gone off in quest of him, with his horse and arms, he was in an awkward dilemma ; but he shook off his adversary, and de- clared that **he had been to wash himself in the stream." "Where is your country?" said the sheikh, " Stamboul" was the reply. . " Are you a Muslim ?" *' Ul humd al Illah — La Illah ul Ullah,"* the rest of the sentence being cut off by quick de- mands of "Where was he going?" &c. At length the sheikh cooled, and began to use softer words. As lord of the palace of Solomon son of David the prophet, he had a right, he said, to at least half of the treasures found within the ruins. In the mean time in came two of his wives, who had been looking in vain for the stranger ; and their having seen nothing of him was urged as an additional proof of his being a magician ; it was quite plain he must have rendered himself invisible. The plot was thus thicken- ing, when his guide, Abu Farah, returned most opportunely to bring about a denouement. He cried out Ya Hadjee Abdallah, (Ho! Pilgrim Abdallah,) poured forth reproaches, imprecations, angry questions, and self-suggested replies, till out of breath ; insisting on having his share of the treasures found, and cursing his companion's ingratitude, till at length tired out by his obsti- nate silence, he proposed that they should set out on their journey, (pp. 66 — 81.)
Ascending the hills to the south-east of Amman, they saw se- veral excavated tombs, and travelled for nearly four miles along a wide public road bounded on each side by large stones, and ex- actly corresponding with the approach by which they had entered on the opposite side of the valley. Near Gherbt-el-sookh, (kherbet-el-souk, the ruins of the market, see Burckh. p. 355.) they saw the remains of a mausoleum, apparently Roman, and observed that this town was connected with Amman by a broad
•We give Mr. Buckingham's Arabic as we find it; but no Arabs assuredly ever pronounced these words as he spells them.
Buckingham's Travels. 467
public road, across a fine plain of fertile land, (p. 83.) AtYedoody, three miles further, there are some very ancient sepulchres and the remains of a large town ; another still larger may be traced at Mehanafish, which is far to the south-south-east of Yedoody, and the whole road passes by an almost imperceptible ascent over a tract of fertile soil. Just beyond the ruins last named, a sud- den elevation gives an extensive view over the country to the south-east, and presents a widely extended plain, covered in every direction with ruined towns, generally seated on small eminences, and all bearing evident marks of former opulence. Not a tree was to be seen ; but Abu Farah, who knew every inch of the ground, affirmed that the soil is every where highly pro- ductive, (p. 85.) This is all called the plain of Belkah,a corrup- tion of Pisgah, in the opinion of our traveller, though we fear the learned will not apj)rove of his etymology.
A party of the Beni Sakker, descending the gentle slope of the plain to the eastward, were observed in time to allow our tra- vejlers to get out of their way ; but their approach gave Mr. Buck- ingham an opportunity of noticing their practice of riding in a line, several abreast, and his guide told him they make it an inva- riable rule to have their cloaks wrapped closely round their bodies and their arms ready for an attack. At Menjah more ruins were seen ; and at Hhezban (the ancient Heshbon of the Scriptures, Burck. p. 365.) hard by to the west, there are remains to a still greater extent. The castle of Geezah was visible five miles dis- tant to the east and a little to the south of it, a town called Gus- tal, [Castellum,] both in ruins.
', Here for the first time a range of hills which runs nearly due iiorth and south, and forms the eastern boundary of this extensive plain, became visible. Along the eastern side of these hills* runs the derb-el-hadj-el-nebbe, or " Road of the pilgrimage of the Prophet." on the borders of the Great Desert, (p. 89.) Jelool, in a commanding position, appears to have consisted of two towns close to each other ; and next to Amman, it is the largest of any of the ruined cities in this neighbourhood. At a small distance from that place " the soil was covered with small patches of a yellowish white substance, having a highly sulphureous taste and smell ;" this, as Abu Farah observed, is every where the case in the neighbourhood of the Dead Sea, and combined with the bitumen found in that lake, and the hot springs of Tiberias, is a proof, in Mr. Buckingham's opinion, that the whole valley j0f the Jordan " has, at some very remote period, been subject
~ ♦ According to the information received by Burckhardt, this road is here on tte western side of the hills.
468 Buckingham's Travels.
l^o volcanic convulsions. " The swallowing up of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah," he adds, (p. 90.) " whether rightly attri-., huted to Divine vengeance or not, may well be an historical fc^^jt^^ and accomplished by means of some great volcanic operatiopi,, of which the whole course of the lake of Tiberias, the river Jordan, and the Dead Sea, bears so many indications." We fear that the author has forgotten what he learnt when a student at Oxford, or he would not have entertained the doubts, whic|i this sentence seems to imply, and perhaps, as he is so angry with Mr. Gilford, (p. 621.) for misinterpreting such passag^;^. it wbuld have heen prudent to have expunged it altogether. ,,j*':,, .,,,..
A beast, in size and shape somewhat like a badger, blacl^, a broad grey patch, like a dirty cloth upon its back and -X^ small head, wide mouth, and round nose, here came acros^ tl and ran so fast that they were some time before they ov^^itpQl It is called El-Simta, preys on carcasses, and has the cmd' ' being very ferocious. Oom-el-keseer and Oom-el-welj^ec ^fich side of a stream called Wadi-el-keseer, soon afterwards prer, sented large heaps of ruins, especially the latter, and the tr^iy^fr, lers took up their night's lodgings among some "BedoAvees, i.j^., half shepherds and half cultivators" encamped near four ruined villages called Delilat. The Sheikh of these Arabs asked wliQtli^jr^ he had seen Gerash and Amman; observed they had. be^ pi'incely cities once — but the prophecy of their ruin had sureLjt been fulfilled ! — " What prophecy ?" said the traveller. " Tha^,|^^ answered his host, " delivered by Solomon the son of David, on the steps of the summer palace at Amman," (i. e. the seats of the theatre,) " when he foretold to his royal brother the;ruyi of their kingdoms— obseiTing that their decline had already commenced, for oil had risen to the price of three paras a skin ). i
Beyond Ooom-el-keseer the soil, already mixed with clays, becpiUes poorer, and is interspersed with flints, though stdl capable of being rendered productive ; and from that point, if we understand our author right, there is a gradual descent to, the south and east. The Wadi-el-themed, a little further on, " has worn its bed through a chalky rock," (98.) that therefore must here be the basis of the plain. On many of the wells near, the banks of this stream five characters are inscribed, which have much the appearance of the Phoenician, or ancient Hebrew ; if, as Mr. Buckingliam supposes, the same figures are repeated on all the wells, it is very remarkable ; for such a coincidence^ which could have hardly been accidental, shows that thesj^ characters are significant. About nine miles beyond this stream is Oom-el-Russas, marked by a solitary and lofty tower, Thi? town stands on a rising grouud, which has .^ better ^s^ilthaB,
Buckingham's Travels. ^ 46^
maf^ iieai-et to the river. The tower already mentioned, and many ruins near it, are half a mile from the first enclosed area, which is about two hundred yards square, and has low walls con- structed of large stones. Immediately to the south of this is the second enclosure, the walls of which are quite entire : it is an oblong, and "the space occupied by it is not more than half 9, itiile." (p. 100.) It had narrow streets at right angles to each othef^ biit does not appear to have contained any splendid buildings. A' sheikh, on the look out for the protection of his party en- dimped in the hollows below, gave the travellers a welcome, reception, and scarcely had they alighted, when a small party froxri Karak, which lies about thirty-five miles further south, arrived m quest of the same intelligence, — the state of the roads. Fi-bin' these persons Mr. Buckingham had (he mortification to h^ki'hi' that all the reports which he had heard at Assalt, (p. 159.) respMtihig; the impossibility of proceeding to the south and east, Wfe're niut too true. He was therefore compelled to submit to th^' painful necessity of retracing his steps, "consoling himself with' the assurance that he had done his best to accomplish the end in view." (p. 102.)
"Oh* their return they passed through Hhuzban (Heshbon) and clbs^r(-0d fragments of ancient pottery, at least a mile before tl^fey came to the ruins of the city. Its position is one which gives a range of view for at least thirty miles in every direction, and as much as sixty southAvard. The space occupied by the ^ins is about a mile in circumference ; — and in one building at iHe \<^est end of it, there are some prostrate columns, the shafts 6f' Which are singularly formed. The pieces of which they are coHstriicted "were locked together by the upper part over- lapping the lower, as the cover of a snufip-tox without hinges overlaps the bottom part; the joints Avere ^9 fine as to warrant the belief, that when new they were almost iiriperceptible." The capitals of these pillars were also of a very unusual kind. " They were nearly square, with a large leaf at each corner, the central stem of the leaf running up exactly on the sharp angle of the square, and the broad edges of the leaf folded back so as to meet in the centre of each face." On the summit of the hill, on which the city stood, there are remains of a building which was perhaps a temple, and from that spot Jerusalem is just perceptible, bearing due West ; Bethlehem, bearing West half South by compass, and distant from twenty-five to thirty miles, as the crow flies, is more distinctly visible. To the South of the town there is a large reservoir " of good masonry, not unlike the cisterns of Solomon near Jerusalem." " These may therefore be the fishpools to which that monarch compares the eyes of his beloved in Cant. vii. 4."
470 Buckingham's Travels,
A narrow pass called Bab Hhuzban, the gate of Heshbon, about two miles and a half from the ruins, leads into the Wadi Hhuzban, a deep valley, through whicn a fine stream of water flows into the Dead Sea. — Fragments of walls, aqueducts, and a bridge, suggested the notion that there might have been a town here also. The hills which separate this from the Wadi Esseer are as romantic as " mountain, wood, Avater, rock, and glen" can make them ; and a small stream, forcing its way over precipices towards the Dead Sea, forms a broken cascade of about thirty feet in descent, the only one which the author " had ever seem in these parts." (p. 109.) After crossing some very steep hills, and *f passing through some of the finest woods that could be seen," they came to a deep glen, where some ancient caves were pointed out as containing " sarcophagi and inscriptions." The entrances to these caverns were " large square apertures hewn out witti great ease," but nothing could move the guide to turn a step out of the path, as " this fertile glen is a scene of constant conten-* tion among the shepherds who feed their flocks" there, and con- sequently a place where ' delay' would be doubly ' dangerous.' — . The travellers therefore hastened out of the dell, and from the top of the next ascent — once more saw the castle of Assalt. It was then about twelve miles distant, and they did not reach it
till sunset, as they halted to take some refreshment at Anab. , , 'js-ofij
Having thus brought our traveller back to "the city of Salt," atta carried the reader very much at length, over all the untrodden ground in his tour, we must restrict ourselves to a much more cursory account of the remainder. With the exception of the route from Balbeck to Homs, it contains nothing which has not been described by other modern travellers ; we would not, how- ever, be supposed to imply that it is less interesting than the pre- ceding part of the book ; on the contrary, by the generality of readers, if we mistake not, it will be liked much the best. The lively descriptions of men and things at Damascus and Aleppo, will interest those who would doze over the eternal rocks and ruins of the Ledjah ; and the porous black stone of the Hauran, be it basalt or tufwacke, will appear very heavy to many, whose fancy would be much tickled by the " life and adventures" of Lady Hester Stanhope. Tripolis, Berytus, Emessa, Laodicea, and Antioch, could not but suggest copious remarks to so diligent an observer as the author ; and Balbeck, together with the cedars of Lebanon, have beeii. cited by many not half so well inclined to describe them.
-n
The remaining portion of the present volume naturally falls into tlb.^ fpllowing divisions. 1. Journey through the Hauran and
Buckingham's Travels. 4Ift^
Ledjah, from Assalt to Damascus, (pp.112 — 298.) 2.Residence at Damascus, (pp.293 — 358.) 3. Journey from thence to Sidon, and stay at the convent of Mar Elias, (pp.358 — 434.) 4. Journey from Sidon to Tripoly, dnd the cedars of Lebanon, (pp. 434 — 461.) 5. Journey from Tripoly to Balbeck, (pp. 461^-480.) 6. Route from Balbeck to Horns, (pp. 430 — 501.) 7. Route from Homs by Tartoos, Laodicea, and Antioch, to Aleppo ; (pp. 501 — 578.) and lastly, 8. Transactions at the latter place. Of these, as the reader will immediately perceive, the most novel and instructive, if not the most amusing parts, is the first ; to it, therefore, we shall more particularly direct his attention. ;i
As the Wahabees had completely obstructed all the southel*n routes across the deserts, Mr. Buckingham was compelled to make his way through the Hauran to Damascus, where ho was sure of obtaining information which might regulate his fi\rther progress, accompanied by the same guides, who both volunteered their services, and as it " appeared to him not only the most eligible, but really the only mode left for him to pursue, he con- sented to this arrangement." (p. 117.)
His first day's journey led him over hill and dale, by deserted towns and villages, ancient and modern, to his old station at Jerash, where he " enjoyed a fine moonlight walk alone through those magnificent ruins." (p. 127.) The observations, made on this occasion, are all given in the " Travels in Palestine," and therefore omitted here.
Descending into the valley of Adjeloon, they had a fine view of the course of the Zerkah, (Jabok,) running from S. E. to N. W. and observed that the summit of Jebel Asswete, (Ezzoueit Burckh. p. 268.) is an elevated table land, or terrace, like the Belkah, and the bend of the trees manifested the prevalence of northerly winds. Adjeloon has a castle like that of Assalt, but it is now almost a ruin ; the village is tributary to the Pasha of Damascus. At Cufr Ihjey, where the country improves, and pre- sents some beautiful woody scenery, Mr. Buckingham learnt that there is a constant communication between the countries, East and West of the Jordan, and that the former may be easily visited without much risk. Not far from Adjeloon they passed by a spot, in the midst of a fine forest of Sinjan trees, called by the country people " Belled-el-Yosh, i. e. the country, or place of
the author, " is undoubtedly the same with the valley of Ajalon, •named in the Scriptures :" (p. 156.) the country, however, men- tioned in that book was, unluckily, on the other side of the Jordan.
472 Buckingham's Travels.
The Hauran was spread out before them, in another table land, raised at a great height above the level of the lake of Tiberias, but lower than the Belkah. It is separated from the Desert by a chain of hills, not rising to any great elevation ; but as their eastern declivity is unknown, the level of the desert is entirely a matter of vague conjecture; but is, however, most probably considerably lower than that of the plains here described. •viAt Dahhil (Daal which Burckhardtdid not enter, p. 241.) there are buildings the stones of " which are let into each other aa.i^ the work had been of wood." Circular windows, the upp(^ half made of one stone, the lower of another, united by means of bolts projecting from the upper, and locked into holes fitting theni in the lower," and "square windows supported on the ends of stone', beams, give altogether a new character to the style of arp^^,- tecture" followed in this place, so that Mr. Buckingham '^pp,^j!f?, isemember nothing that it resembled." But "near to thfs, ^gftt^ •U^as a still more remarkable building ; the base of which formedj^i, square of about twenty-five feet, whence the superstructure rose .i;q, a pyramidal form, by regular stages or steps, formed as they, are in the great pyramids of Egypt. At the height of about twenty feet there was a platform, on which was raised a smaller square tower, from thirty to forty feet high, so that the v/hole height was about fifty or sixty feet from the ground. In the western face of d>^s, building there was a common-sized doorway, ornamented by, a, sculptured frieze. At the south-west angle of the tower a square pilaster, with a capital resembling the Ionic." (p. 165.) On a block of stone, at Gherbee, there was a tolerably legible inscription iifi; " characters like those ,o« ■. a>iciejit> fJwfiUi .mQWn^ei^JLs ;, .^^i^.pj^pvi bably Phoenician."! ^jxf) ol s-'orur 'd')/ i,rvT ■,•'! 7/, in uu!ifri'> ntlcj
On the 13th of March, they entered the territories of tlo^ Eastern Druses, and at Aehhreh, for the first time in the Hauran,. met with " chimneys and fire-places, as in the farm houses in Eng- land, well filled with excellent fuel." "The men here are stout, handsome, clean, and well-dressed, the children among the best looking in Syria."
AtBosra, Mr. Buckingham eagerly " set out on an excursion through the toAvh, which, having never before been visited or de- scribed, was an object of peculiar intei'est." At that moment he seems to have forgotten Burckhardt and Seetzen, one of whom he knew in person, and the other by reputation, and to such over- sights as these he owes much of the censure of which he com- plains in his Appendix. ^ i : The remains of an ancient church seemed to have puzzle^ p]^^, author, who could think of nothing but Greeks and Saracens^^ Roman arches or pointed ones of the Arabs. An inscription
Buckingham's Travels. 473
which he has copied puts the matter out of all doubt. It is, "if we read aright," as follows : .iitjc^ fi^/r ixkju&ki 9c(i ,
t Eni TOY GE0<I»IAECTAT0Y KAI OCIQTAIOV IQANNOY APXI
EniCKOnOY OKOAOMH0H KAI ETEAElQeH O AriOC NAQC
CElPriOY , ^^^
^AKXOY KAI AEONTIOY TQN AGAO^OPQJf K:Al'kAAAl"'''^'^^^
NIKQN MAPTYPQN EN ETEI . . . Y . . . INAIKTIQNOC . .'1^,'^"^ ^
i.e. Under the most devout and holy archbishop John, this holy temple of the triumphant and victorious martyrs Sergius, Bac- chufe,' and Leontius, was built and completed, in the year ... 400 . . . Ihdiction . . 20. The names might probably be cbcrectedl from the Greek Menologiums. ^it - ■ 'H| -ilorl
'" A square tower near the Deir Boheiry, (Burckh. p. 227.) to the gr^tti'ttiit of which there is an ascent by sixteen flights of steps, Ai^klhg iri all sixty-four, affords a complete tiew of the site of the sittdrisiitxity; Its walls enclosed an irregUlariy quadrangular area 6f'^b5rit'three miles in circumference, facing east by south and Wfest by north. At the western end there is "a Roman arched gateway ;" called " Bab-el-IIowa, or the Gate of the Wind ;" be- cause that is the quarter from which it usually blows. This gatfe Was at the end of one of the two great streets which traversed the W^fdle city, at right angles to each other. The most remaritable niihs, however, are the wall and some columns of a very large temple nearly in the centre of the town. The pillars are of the Cdrinthian order, quite perfect, forty-five feet high, and equal in point of execution to the finest at Balbeck or Palmyra, those of the Temple of the Sun excepted. The building to which they be- longed must have been destroyed for the sake of its materials, as its plan cannot now be traced. A few paces to the East of it, a.re some others about fifty feet high, but ill-propoi^ned and having a rich entablature, which appears too heavy for them. To the south of these buildings stands the castle, a stone near the en- trance of which, records the building of a church by order of Justinian and Theodora : ' '''* »i>^r-->i.i.>-ll ) '/ bus ,1x1:3(0 .'mio^shni-n
fi GEIA EK <I)IAOTIMIA iwv OP0OAOS wv Km : ^j ,^
lAEfiN lOYCTINIANOY KAI GEOAQPAC QKOAOM^'%0 Vwj
. ,, tHPIOC OIKOC toy AnOY KAI AGA0<J)OP0Y rEQrpioY Eni TOY OCIQT KAI APIOTATOY APXIEH, *
iu
We have expressed the suppUed letters in the small chaTactep,4)titf the name of the saint is given in capitals to point out the origin of the errors of both transcribers who read it IQBIKA. In an Arabic inscription on the castle walls, Mr. Buckingham read the date of A. H.722, corresponding to A. D. 1322, which marks probably the
474 Buckingham's Travels.
age of the Saracenic fortress, but there is a Greek one within the walls which states that " the enclosure was built from the foundation ;" this however belonged probably to some more ancient building. " On a stone altar" (i. e. a cippus or tomb-stone) further within, there is a memorial of Flavins Maumus or Aumus, " commander of the third or Cyrenaic Legion, who died after twenty-tliree years service." In this, which is one of Mr. Buckingham's best trans- cripts, he has omitted one line entirely, and a letter in another ; which shows what licence may be fairly taken in restoring his inscriptions. Such mistakes are scarcely avoidable, where haste and ignorance of the language are combined. An inscription over a doorway, which escaped Burckhardt's notice, declares, if we understand it right, that " this wall Avas built at the expense and by the care of Julius Cyrillus," and therefore carries the age of the castle at least as far back as the Lower Empire. -In the centre of this building there is a fine Roman theatre, but so encum- bered with other ruins as to be scarcely perceptible. A large loose stone within its area contained the following fragment of a Christian epitaph, as is proved by the initial cross : —
t nANTA XeQN $YEI KAI EMHAAIN AM*IKAYnTEl. . " TOYNEKA MH 2TONAXOI TI2 AHO XeON02 E12 X0ONA-
AYNQN ..OTAN KAMH2 TOY TO TEAOS.
'' It is singular that not even the Christian priests knew that this place is named in the Scriptures, (p. 209.) Of the ruins and castle of Salghud (Szalkhat) our author's account differs little from that of Burckhardt. To the east of it, he says, as far as the sight can extend, there are ruined towns without number, and as " in peaceable times a person may go right across the whole country without danger," it is to be hoped that it will not long continue unexplored.
The hills on the eastern border of the Hauran are only an ascent to another terrace, as fertile and extensive as that on the west. — This district is principally inhabited by the Druses, whose in- dustry, courage, and vigilance make them the most respect- able and happiest people in Syria. Though professing a religion which sprung, like that of the Quakers,* from the most arrant fanaticism, they are as tolerant as those peaceable and unoffend- ing Christians. This part of the country is stony and bare of
* The reader ■will not, it is hoped, suppose that any sort of parallel is meant to be drawn between the doctrines and founders of that respectable sect of Christians, and those " happy Unitarians," the disciples pi *' our Lord^ Hakem." (De Sacjj, Chrestom. torn, ii.) -;;;...... .t--.^:s>; .,.; i- _ . .-o^,- ^^.^v. .i ....
Buckingham's Travels. 475
wood, but ploughed wherever furrows can be made. The tomb of Odsenatus at a small distance to the west of Soeda (or Souida) is in a good style ; and besides the Greek inscription, copied by Burckhardt, it has a Phoenician one, (p. 236.) which he did not notice.
At the spring of Ain-el-Hhor, on the road to Gunnawat, there are the remains of a colonnade, made of eight Corinthian pillars, probably of the age of Adrian, so rich is this desolate region in monuments of ancient splendour, and over the church of that town (Kanouat) there is a mutilated inscription. EYCEBOYC AYTOKP. TPAIANOY AAPIANOY. The other monuments of antiquity, none of which are Mahomedan, are described much in the same manner by both travellers. " The Druses," says our author, " entertain no tenet in common with the Mahomedans, and yet manyof them keep the fast of Ramadan;" "such," he infers, " is the tendency that men have to embrace the superstitions of their neighbours." Had he taken a little more pains to inquire into the faith of these "Unitarians," he would have found that it is entirely built upon the doctrine of Mahomet, and that none but the adepts have learned to discard every thing like religious rites and doctrines. At Ateel TAatyl, Burckh. p. 222.) on the road from Gunnawat to Ezra, there is a small but beautiful Corinthian temple, and some of the inscriptions there, copied by Burckhardt and our author, are of the age of the Antonines, the period to which, as Mr. Bankes has justly observed, (p. 644.) " all the architectural remains of the Hauran" belong. At Mijdel, about nine miles further on, there are fifty families of Druse shepherds ; and many ruins, all built " of the black stone of the Hauran." Some of these are sepulchres, upon one of which there is an epitaph in verse to the memory of Antiochus and his two sons, Maximus and Gaianus :
H COPOC H MECATH AEXOC ANEPOC ANTIOXOIO OC nOT ENI CTPATIH KAEOC EIAETO TAG A EKATEPeE MASIMOC EYAAIMQN KAI TAIANOC AYO HAIAEC . EKTICAN ANTIOXOIO KAI A . . AA THN A EHI DACAIC : r
ICTACAN 0<DPA DEAOINTO <I>IAQ HAPA HATPI BA *
; Mr. Buckingham's copy of this inscription is the most correct of the two ; but in that of another opposite to it, the letters of which are " in high relief," and the cross marks its Christian origin,* he has overlooked two words : j \-nj ii<njdiJ sm
nAPAFEKAIMH ' «'*
t *eONEI J 1 1 f I iiiii 'III' I .■■■-■ I — " '
• It ii singular lliat Col. Leake, who has so happily restored many more dif* ficttlt inscriptions, should have left TAHIH uncorrected. .^-^.^^ wi
476 Buckingham's Travels.
" Pass by and envy not !" in allusion perhaps to the evil eye. The whole of this part of the country is extremely rocky, but the soil between the veins of rock, is a fertile loam. The approach tp Nedjeraun is over beds which have the appearance of lava sud^ denly cooled. This stone rings like metal, and, being very hard, makes excellent reservoirs, from several of which the inhabitants have a constant supply of water, as well as from a stream which joins the Shereeah-el-mandoor near Oom-kais. Reemy (Rima el Lsehf) has ruins of a church, and a sepulchral tower built by Celestinus, the s in whose name was overlooked by Burckhardt. A halt for a day at Nedjeraun, gave Mr. Buck- ingham an opportunity of visiting Shuhubah, (Shohba,) one of the many ruined towns in the Ledja (i.e. Asylum,) that singular laby- rinth of rocks, well deserving of the name which the Arabs have given to it. An inscription in honour of Marcus Aurelius and Verus, over a gateway, was copied by our traveller with consider- able accuracy ; but Buckhardt overlooked the last line ; unless Mr. Buckingham has expanded the sort of cypher given by the former, Avhich is not a very probable supposition.
On his return to Nedjeraun he copied an inscription on the architrave of a doorway, which seems to imply that it was com- pleted under the authority of Andrionicus Agrippa and Carus Mosamatas: and " in the course of this ramble he was shown into a building with two sloping towers, one at the east and the other at the west end. Within the building were three longi- tudinal arcades, supported by mean and slender pillars, with stucco and painting, and over the central arch, beginning at the east end, is the following inscription: —
BE I ..A I TA I TY I NA I KH 1 NP I en I AY I OC I OY I MO I AK I ACE j POIC I . . O I MA I AIA I OIY I HAI I XH I TOY I
En
NA
*' The twenty-four separate divisions in this represent the joints of the stones, which appear like the ends of beams close together ; though this renders it a very uncommon place for affixing an inscription. The building has evidently been used at different periods for a Christian and a Mohammedan place of worship ; the vestiges of both being apparent in the paintings of the former, and the niches toward the Kaaba of Mecca, with a flight of steps and place of oratory of the latter."
In another part of the town, a square building, now venerated as the tomb of a Mohammedan saint, appears, from an inscriptioji in seven hexameter lines, to have belonged originally to some Greek or Roman general ; but the copy here given is too inaccurate to allow of any positive conclusion. With regard to the produce of
Buclan|liam*s ^TrdveW. 4Tt
tH(^t.ydjkh' it'^may be remarked, that the fertile l^hts''aiBio'ng its, rocks are peculiarly fit for the vine ; and all along its south- western " boundary are seen small towers, and stone walls of enclosures, now in ruins," which once served for the division and protection of its vineyards.
At the south-western angle of this district, on a ledge of rockj.. is placed Ezra, which is almost inaccessible on horseback, for the rider must " lead his beast over it with great care, to prevent him from falling," (p. 267.) *
Among its ancient buildings the church of St. Elias is dis-, tinguished, not only by the elliptical termination of the east end,' but by an inscription •' over the large door in the southern front/* which is probably as follows : —
+ OI An EZOPAC EE lAIQN . . . NAON HAIOY OPO* SnOYAH IQANNOY EMECOY AIAK EN ETIYIZ /
EKIICAN Eni OYAPOY GEO* EniCKOnOY t-?^:
KAI Eni TAIOY BOMBQNOC MAAX. ]\ iW
" On a low door-way to the right of this was a smgular mixture of emblems, exhibiting the cross and the vine ; as if the worship of Bacchus and Christ had been at one time united, or the latter engrafted on the ruins of the former." Had the author, who seems rather fond of quoting Scripture, recurred to the 80th Psalm, the 5th and 6th chapters of Isaiah, the 2d of Jeremiah, or the 10th of Hosea, he might have discovered a reason for the use of these emblems, without having recourse to the Greek mythology, which was probably less known to the ecclesiastics by whom these decorations were ordered, than the Psalms and the Prophets.
On one of the architraves there are the words OAriOC+HAIAC, the meaning of which Mr. Buckingham seems never to have dis- covered. The preceding inscription, however, affords a remarka- ble and a very satisfactory proof that he did make these copies, notwithstanding the confident assertion of Mr. Bankes, (p. 619.) that " from his ignorance of Latin and Greek" he was incapable of doing so ; for we have there several words omitted by Burck- hardt, in whose copy therefore he could not have found them, and among others a date, "in the year 417," the correctness of which is established by the inscription on the church of St. George, evidentlyofthesame stamp and age. — (Burckhardt's Syria, p.60-1.)
This toAvn is remarkable as containing some of the most perfect specimens of ancient houses throughout the whole of the Hauran. The front of one, which was quite entire, exhibited the singular kind of masonry before described, the stones being interlocked within each other by a kind of dovetailing, and very strongly
VOL. 1. - 2 k
478 Buckinghatn's Travels.
united without cement ; the windows were small, being both square and circular in the same range. The central room was large and lofty, and on each side of it was a wing separated from the middle division by open arcades, equally distant from the sides and from each other. On the eastern side there were two large jBre places let into the wall, and recesses like cupboards ; a large earthen vase, capable of containing a hogshead, was half buried in the centre of the floor. This room was low, not being more than seven feet in height ; and it was ceiled with slabs ^of stone, as smooth as planks of wood, resting on massy beams of the same materials. In the centre of it was sculptured a wreath, the ends fastened with riband, and a fanciful design within it, all exe- cuted in a style, beyond question, Roman. In the western divi- sion, or wing, there were other low rooms ; and outside of the house a flight of steps, projecting from the wall, and sup- ported only by the end embedded in the original masonry, lead- ing up to the terrace of the dwelling. In front was an open paved court, beyond which, were stables with stalls, troughs, &c. all, as in the enchanted city in the Arabian Nights, of hard, flinty stone, which has, however, the peculiar property of ac- quiring a lighter hue by decomposition, so that the oldest buildings in Ezra have sometimes the newest appearance. The doors are all of stone, and must have been peculiarly convenient, for " they are in general immovable by one person." After remarking that " they are nicely fitted, and highly ornamented," and that " the ceilings are formed of beams and planks of stone laid as closely and as smoothly together as the planked ceiling or floor of an English house," the author infers that these works were formed in the earliest ages, — in the very infancy of art. Is it then so easy to work in stone, to mould and shape it into any requisite form ? And does it require no mechanic aid to move such ponderous masses ?
The plain of the Laehf, or foot of the hills, has " a fine, fertile, light red soil," extending far to the westward, and bounded by the rocky edge of the Ledjah on the east ; and across this plain, nearly in the direction of that rugged border, runs the road to Sham, (Damascus,) distant only two days' journey. At Mah- adjee, where they passed the night, the author was reminded by the Moosas, Ibrahims, and Daoods (Moseses, Abrahams, and Davids) in the party, of the frequent use of Jewish names among the natives of the East ; and he thence takes occasion to dis- charge one of his wordy declamations against the folly and absurdity, — he is half disposed to say, impiety, — of the western Christians, who profane those holy names by using them in jest, &c. &c. forgetting, as usual, the want of parallelism in his paral-
Buckingham's Travels. 479
lels fcdiifoundihg great things with small ; comprehending also, as is his custom, whole bodies of men, without exception or limita- tion, under one sweeping anathema ; and mixing up truths and falsehoods in a manner well calculated to deceive others, if not himself. The immediate subject of these remarks is too trifling to deserve a severer censure than a smile ; but the same spirit which dictated this tirade about the name of Moses, suggested, in the following chapters, some very exception- able passages, to which these animadversions must be considered as more immediately applied. But we must hasten to the end of this stage of our traveller's journey. He was so struck with the heauly of the Ghouttah, or vale of Damascus, (which bursts sud- denly on the traveller's view after he has crossed some low hills) that, notwithstanding his fatigue, he rode for a full hour uncon- scious of any thing but the richness of the scene, as he approached that celebrated city.
At Damascus, the unexpected arrival of Mr. Bankes, an event of the most gratifying kind to our traveller, contributed materially to recover him from the fatigues of his long wanderings, — but just as he was about to proceed on his way, a severe attack of fever confined him to his chamber for several days, and a relapse was near proving fatal. Sea air was recommended, and he with difficulty reached Saide, where the kind hospitality of Lady Hester Stanhope, together with the sea breezes, and the medical aid of Dr. Merjon, completely reestablished his health. A journey to the Cedars of Lebanon and to Balbeck in quest of Mr. Bankes, and from thence to Homs (the ancient Emessa) afforded an opportunity of tracing the course of the Aasy or Orontes. At that city, as before, all attempts to cross the Desert, or even to proceed in a straight course to Aleppo, proved fruitless, so that he was reduced to the necessity of returning to the coast ; in the course of which latter journey, he traced the courss of the Nehr-el-kebeer, visited Tartoos, the ancient Or- thosia, and passing through Laodicea and Antioch at length reached Aleppo. The latter part of the book, though not the most novel, is far from being the least amusing ; and, had we sufficient room, we should willingly insert some extracts from it. His accounts of the opinions and prejudices of the Arabs are also deserving of notice. All, except Mohammedans, half adore Bona- parte, as the deliverer of the Holy City from the hands of the infidels ; but an Egyptian, whom Mr. Buckingham met at Assalt, (p. 120.) justly despised " Napoleon for having abjured his faith." The Christians respect and admire the English, but consider them as a sort of nondescripts in religion, because they neither pray nor fast ;— and yet a Christian, in the Assaltite party, •• contended
2 k2
480 Chandler's Lectures. '■
that the object of our traveller, himself must have been to inquire into the state of Christianity in "those parts, with a view to the ultimate purification of the faith of the cBuTch." This declaration is deserving of being well considered, and may furnish just ground of encouragement to the protestant missionaries who have lately established themselves in the Holy Land.
Art. XIII. — Eight Sermons preached before the University of
Oxford, in the year 1825, at the Lecture founded by the late
Rev. John Bampton, M. A., Canon of Salisbury. By the Rev.
George Chandler, LL. D, late Fellow of New College ; Rector
" of Southam, Warwickshire ; District Minister of Christ Church,
f: St. Mary-le-bone, London ; and Domestic Chaplain to his Grace
// the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensbeny. i
It is now near half a century since the Bampton Lecture was established, in the course of Avhich a series of eight sermons has been annually added to the theological literature of the coun- try ; and considering the many advantages which concur in the promise of this work — how wide a field is offered to the choice of the electors, being nothing less than the whole body of masters of arts both of Oxford and Cambridge, of whatever age and where- soever resident — how various and interesting the topics capable of being comprehended within the founder's view — and how powerful the excitement under which these Sermons are generally com- posed and delivered — it must be confessed, that the benefit de- rived from them to the public has not been altogether so impor- tant as the circumstances of the case under the first view of them would lead us to expect. Of some, the copies have not, we be- lieve, been multiplied beyond the number required by the founder ; and the cases are rare, indeed, where a second edition has been required ; while, in the same period, many useful and valuable works, more or less connected with these subjects, have been given to the public by men perhaps not better qualified than the writers of whom we speak. But when we examine the facts more nearlyour surprise will be diminished. In the first place, the ground though wide at the commencement becomes gradually contracted to each succeeding lecturer, as the number increases of those who have preceded him ; and thus every year the probability is diminished of his finding within the limits prescribed, that topic to which the current of his thoughts would naturally flow, while
Chandler's Lectures. 481
t ^e fear of clashing with those who have gone before him, is in the jjsame degree increased. Again, it is one thing to satisfy an academic audience, and another to interest the public ; nor is it, by any means, impossible, that the very pains and learning exercised to secure the first, may be a real obstacle to the attainment of the second. Indeed there is something in the case itself which has a manifest tendency to produce this result : selected from an extensive class to preach before a learned and intelligent audience, to many of whom they are personally known, and in whose eyes they are anxious not only to support, but to advance the character they have already attained ; at an age, too, for the most part, when the desire of establishment begins to mingle strongly with other motives for distinction ; it is no wonder that these authors should be often found ambitious of striking out of the common path, or of extending their researches beyond the limits of those who had preceded them. Under these circumstances, it is not unreasonable to expect, what has actually occurred ; that some whose aims have been either disproportioned or unsuited to their powers, have partially failed ; that others have produced ^.compositions honourable to themselves, and gratifying to their jjaudience, which have nevertheless been too abstruse, too learned, or too excursive for the general taste ; while few, very few, have had the ability and good fortune to be heard and read with equal jpleasure, and to unite the suffrages of the learned with the public edification and applause. That there is some truth in these ob- servations, may be inferred from the facts, that two lectures de- j livered at no great distance of time from each other, and to audi- 7 ^nces equally crowded, attentive, and approving, have neverthe- less met with different receptions when issuing from the press ; and that those lectures, with one brilliant exception perhaps, have been the most successful Avith the public, which have been the least recondite in their matter, and the least ambitious in their style. But there is another obstacle to the ordinary success of these lectures inherent in the plan itself; viz. that whatever be the topic, whether more or less comprehensive, the discussion of it must occupy eight lectures, and no more. Now it is clear, that though there are many subjects which easily and almost naturally break up into equal integral parts ; as some minerals easily separate into crystals, each of them as perfect as the aggregate, so there are many others which after all the pains that may be taken, and all the §kill and management that may be practised in the dissection and separation of them, will still present in their isolated members some abruptness of outline, and some de- formity of shape. And if this be a difficulty liable to occur in all , qsises where a single subject is to be developed in a series of ser-
482 Chandler's Lectures.
mons, how much more likely is it to happen where the mmibei' must be exactly eight? To hit upon a subject which shall apply precisely to this measure, in all its parts,without undue distension or compression, must require a rare occurrence of good fortune, with considerable management and taste ; and yet'the want of it, is of much more importance in the public mind than could at first be easily imagined. In didactic works it is not every one who can command his attention beyond the ordinary limits of a sermon, and if he is compelled either to leave off abruptly, or to continue his attention in listlesness or exhaustion, in either case he is not likely to be edified himself, or to do justice to his author. Besides, the curiosity of most readers is more piqued to see what is said, than to arrive at what is true ; and if what is said in the process of the work comes only recommended by its tendency to establish the result, we may be certain that to such men the study will soon become flat and uninteresting.
What may be the fate of the present lecture it would, per- haps, be hazardous for us to predict : that it requires a more serious and a more sustained attention than the generality of readers will be disposed to bestow, we are compelled, upon the credit of our own experience, to confess ; on the other hand, we may venture to promise, that it is a work which will well repay the labour of every intelligent person who will endeavour to make himself master of it. It is evidently the fruit of much thinking and research, and contains matter eminently calculated to suggest curious and interesting reflection to those who will think for themselves.
The object of the work is indeed more comprehensive than would have been prudent in such limits, if many of the parts had not been familiar to us before. It embraces the whole scheme of God's dealings with his creatures, from the creation of the world to the present day, and looks even to ages yet to come. Taking his station from the fall of man, considered by him as the hinge upon which every thing turns, the author directs our attention to that vast space, over which so many centuries have rolled, and points out the track through which the wisdom of providence, guiding and controlling the events of life, and the wills of his creatures, has conducted the benevolent purpose of man's redemp- tion ; imparting to him, from time to time, a series of revelations and dispensations admirably suited to the circumstances of the world at the respective eras of their publication, connected from first to last in one uniform, harmonious, and continued plan, — each of the intermediate being supplementary to that which precedes, and introductory to that which follows, and all having reference, clearer and clearer as the time advances, to that stupen-
Chandler's Lectures, 483
dous manifestation of mercy which crowns the whole, the atone- ment of our Lord and Saviour.
But this view, comprehensive as it is, embraces only a part of that benevolent scheme of Divine wisdom, which this lecture is intended to explain, and exhibit to us. Subsidiary to the re- demption, and instrumental to it, but commencing from the same epoch, and depending upon the same Divine providence and counsels, he points out to us, though with more diffidence, the traces of another plan, now in operation, and still to be continued, for the moral education and improvement of the human race, col- lectively, in the course of successive ages ; a plan proceeding not smoothly and regularly, for that would be as contrary to all our experience as to the analogy of God's other dealings with mankind, but slowly, as we count time, and deviously; sometimes stationary, often retrograde, and then again advancing, but when compared with itself, at sufficient intervals, always progressive, and seeming to point eventually to that happy period foretold by the prophets, when the sources of sin and sorrow shall be dried up, and the lost harmony of the moral world restored . Now, the first consideration that occurs to us upon the opening of this scheme is, that though the two plans, thus connected in it, are pursued through the same line of argument, and almost through the same series of facts, there is the widest difference between them, as well in their relative value and importance as in the authorities on which they rest. The atonement, properly called the essence of Christianity, is an event of such wonderful love on the part of God, and of such infinite importance to every man who comes into the world, that we can never think of it in all its bearings and relations enough. It is a delightful exercise of our understanding, and a confirmation of our faith, to regard the depth and the remoteness of its origin ; to admire the extent and the variety of the preparations which preceded it ; and to venerate the footsteps of the Deity, as we discern them in its pro- gress ; nor can we, at last, hail without satisfaction and delight the approach of a Deliverer, who, after being the subject of pro- phesy for four thousand years, comes into the world to sufier and to die for us, precisely at the time and in the manner in which it was predicted of him. These are matters which belong to us, and to our children for ever.
Futher, when we consider thoroughly the substance of the different revelations communicated to man, and compare them with the course of God's providence as it is exhibited to us in the history of the world, we are disposed readily to acquiesce in the conclusions of Dr. Chandler, that these revelations, as well in their indications of the Messiah as in the moral and religious in-
484 Chandlet's Lectures.
struction appended to them, were admirably suited to the circum- stances of mankind at the respective epochs of their publication ; and calculated to improve them, both collectively and indi- vidually, in moral worth. This is also an object every way worthy of the Deity.
But what have been, and what may be, the effects of this Divine teaching upon the race of man in the course of successive ages — what have been the turns and changes — and what will be the final issue of that contest between the flesh and the Spirit — between the natural corruption of the human heart, and the purifying influence of Divine grace — are questions upon which the declara- tions of Scripture are doubtful and obscure ; and history throws so feeble alight, as scarcely to allow us to determine safely upon Avhat is past, much less to guide us securely in our expectations of the future. Fortunately, too, they are matters of comparatively little import. — Whatever be the future state of man in his pilgrimage through the earth, we have reason to believe that his responsibility will be proportionate to his endowments : in the mean time, the way of salvation is always open to ourselves, and we are confident it will not be closed against our posterity, for we have the word of one who cannot lie, to assure us that the gates of hell shall not prevail against his church, and that his Spirit will be upon hb people to the very ends of the earth. , A-'4^
We have thought it our duty to press these observations,because though we are disposed to agree, in the main, Avith Dr. Chandler, and are particularly pleased with his mode of conducting the inquiry; although the same bright visions have sometimes visited ourselves, when we have seen or fancied the light of Christian truth spreading rapidly around us, and the beauty of Christian morals towering gradually above the height it had formerly at- tained; yet, in the full extent of his view, we cannot entirely concur with him.
It is a curious coincidence, that in our last number we had occasion to notice another set of Lectures, upon the Philosophy of History, by Dr. Miller, in which the same process of the gradual amelioration of the human race is presumed, and the same cause, viz. a Divine plan, is assigned to it ; it is curious, too, that the same enlarged view of history should be insisted upon by both, as necessary to discover the subordination of the parts and the unity of combination in the design ; — but while Df. Miller regards the Divine power as operating in the guidance and controulof ordinaty events to bring about this purpose. Dr. Chandler views it chiefly as exhibited in special revelations. They are not inconsistent with each other, for they are viewing the same object in different lights,
,;; liirT,',.'!:,
Chandler's Lectures. 485
and for different purposes ; butDr. Chandler's is the most satisfac- tory, for while he principally insists upon the latter he does not neglect the former.
' That we may avoid the possibility of misrepresenting him, we shall give his own explanation of this part of his theory : —
" To me, then, it appears, — though I speak with an overwhelming sense of the insufficiency, of the nothingness of our best reason in attempting to fathom the depths of Divine wisdom ; — tome it appears, that in order to qualify us to be partakers, individually, of the future, the spiritual, the eternal benefits of the redemption by Christ, with a view and in subserviency to this design, the Almighty has also formed a plan, whereby man, taken collectively and in the aggregate, might become gradually wiser and better in this life ; might be trained during his abode on earth in such a course of improvement as his nature is capable of receiving ; and might be made to approximate, in such de- gree as he is able, to that restoration to a similitude to his Maker, which ^tis the purpose of Divine providence ultimately to complete. fn\ " In pursuance of this great design, it should seem that man has been placed by the Almighty under a course of moral discipline and instruc- tion in his passage through successive generations ; that many provi- dential arrangements have been made to conduct him in his destined path of improvement ; and that, as the chief and most efficacious of those arrangements, he has been placed, as it were, under the tuition of revealed religion, to be instructed in the knowledge of divine things. Accordingly, it should seem that revelation, in its capacity of the pre- ceptor of man, has ever shaped its proceedings with a view to his edifi- cation. With this view, it has appended to its several dispensations much matter, if not strictly and essentially necessary to the direct purposes of that dispensation, yet projltable for doctrine, for reproof for correction, for instruction in righteousness. With the same view, it has thrown a considerable light on the Divine nature and attributes, and has given many precepts and admonitions for the regulation of human life. — pp. 21-3.
" I would state, and I would willingly state in such a manner as to make it impossible that my meaning should be misconceived, that revelation has principally looked to spiritual matters, and that its main design has been to make known the great doctrine of immortal life, purchased for man by the sacrifice of the divine Redeemer. But I also believe, and I would attempt to show, that, in order to qualify us to be meet partakers of that great salvation, revelation has, moreover, been given with a view to promote the progressive improvement of man in this life; and, with this view, has been adapted to the circum- stances and condition of the human race, in the successive periods of the world.
" This view of things will lead us to consider the scheme of Divine revelation principally in its connection with the progress of human society. It will also lead us to treat the subject, in a great measure, historically; to trace the annals of revelation and the annals of general
486 Chandler's Lecture^.'
history, hoth of course merely in their outline, but in their mutual rela- tion and dependency. And, without farther anticipating what will follow, I think it will appear, that, as the two systems have both been under the presiding care of the same Divine providence, so they have exercised, and have been designed to exercise, a reciprocal influence each over the other ; that, on the one side, revelation has often received its shape and direction from the course of secular events ; on the other side, the course of secular events has often been moulded with a view to promote the interests and to effectuate the purposes of revelation.
" But, before we proceed to trace what I thus suppose to constitute one great scheme of Providence, it should be observed, that we must not expect to see it advancing with an uniform, or always a percepti- ble pace. We may imagine plans, in which, as in a drama constructed on the strict rules of art, there shall be a regularly progressive series of action, and a symmetrical adjustment of part to part. In the mean- while, the mighty Master of the universe, as he has the command of all time in his hands, may conduct his plans with a seeming irregularity that mocks our petty calculations." — pp. 26-8.
Leaving now this preparatory discourse, with a recommendation of some valuable remarks upon the advantage and importance of taking comprehensive views of Providence, we shall proceed to lay before our readers the manner in which the work is exhibited : —
" First, the primeval dispensation ; next, the religious system given to the chosen family and people ; and then, some of the effects of those revelations on the Gentile world. We shall afterwards consider, successively, the personal ministry of Jesus Christ ; the progress of his visible church on earth ; the influence which the spirit of his religion has thus far produced on society ; and, lastly, the chief causes which have hitherto impeded its operation, and our reasonable hopes and expectations for the time to come." — p. 31.
The primeval dispensation, which includes a period of nearly two thousand years, from the Creation to the Flood, occupies a few chapters only in the history, and furnishes, of course, but few facts for our instruction ; these, however, are very important.
Our first parents, as appears from the Mosaic history, were created by God, adult, upright, and innocent ; endued with speech and various knowledge, capable of conversing with each other, and of holding communion with their Maker. From this high estate they fell ; but they were not plunged at once into the depths of ignorance and barbarism, a state which many writers have assigned to them ; nor were they left without God in the world. They had still a language and information suited to their state : to till the ground was, at once, their privilege and their curse ; they knew how to rear and to tend domestic animals ; to provide the necessities of food and clothing ; and, in process of time, they learned to exercise the useful arts. Nor were they
Chandler's Lectures. 48'7'^
destitute of moral obligations. They had the institution of marriage, the foundation of all the charities of life ; and they seem to have respected the rights of property, without which the arts mentioned in the Scripture would never have been cul- tivated with effect. In this state of comparative simplicity, Dr. Chandler justly argues, that some religious instruction was much more necessary to man, than if he had been more advanced ; because with all the disorderly passions of our common nature, he would have been destitute of those valuable restraints which civil institutions, in established communities, supply : —
" Without religious knowledge, man would have been an overgrown infant, mature in physical strength, endued with faculties of vast ca- pacity, and passions of tremendous energy, yet destitute of the prin- ciple, and with him the sole principle, which by its controlling influence should direct those faculties and those passions to beneficial purposes. Nor is this all. The Almighty had formed the ulterior plan of the redemption. And it is clear this plan must have rested, as on its basis, on the great primary truths of all religion. He that cometh to God, says the apostle, must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him* In the same spirit we may say, he that cometh to Christ must be previously acquainted with the existence and the leading attributes of God." — pp. 45-6.
Whence, then, was this knowledge to be imparted ? That man could not work out for himself the great principles of what is called natural religion by the efforts of his own reason, has been elaborately proved by Leland and others on the strongest grounds, and is here ably argued by Dr. Chandler. God, therefore, we learn, communicated to him this knowledge, but in such a mea- sure and in such a way, as were best suited to his capacity and his state. What the full extent of this revelation was, it would be difficult to collect from the records which are left to us ; but it amounted, as Dr. Chandler states, at least to this : —
" That God existed, the foundation stone of all religion, they could not doubt, because they saw and conversed with him. They were taught also to know him in the unity of his substance, as the sole au- , thor of the universe, and the sole power that continued to sustain and . rule it. His wisdom, his justice tempered with mercy, his purity, hi^ abhorrence of sin ; all this was sensibly and strikingly demonstratecl * to their observation by the earliest transactions on record. We may^ add, that the survivance of the human soul after death, and a future state of reward and punishment, if they were not communicated by ' more direct information, were involved in the great promise of the re- demption, to which we shall presently advert. We perceive also the
• Heb. xL 6.
488 Chandler's Lectures.
connection between religion and morality at once established ; and not only the moral duties enjoined, but the violation of those duties placed on the just footing of offences against God.* Man was also taught the duty of praying to his heavenly Father, and of worshipping him with peculiar rites ; and, when sin was entered into the world, he was taught to entertain a hope, — a hope grounded on no unauthorized assumption, — of pardon for transgression, on compliance with certain prescribed terms." — pp. 50-1.
To these important points of spiritual instruction may be added, the blessing of the Almighty, and the sanctification of the sab- bath-day ; and, what is most important, the first intimation of the deliverance from sin, hereafter to be effected by the Messiah, with the institution of annual sacrifices in illustration of it, which is probably attributed, by Magee and others, to this early period. Here, however, we must refer to the author's words : —
" As it was the design of the Almighty to reverse the effect of human transgression by some interposition of mercy, and as this de- sign was, at the same time, utterly beyond the competency of man to discover, it appears reasonable that it should have been revealed to him, and, like the other great truths of religion, revealed in such mea- sure and in such manner, as the circumstances of the case required. Of this intended interposition a particular and distinct disclosure might not have been suitable. It might have lessened the sorrow and compunction of our first parents for the act of disobedience of which they had been guilty ; and, by raising in them a conceit of versatility in the counsels of God, might have weakened their fear of again offending him. A new probation, the probation of faith, was about to be imposed on them ; and this trial might have lost some of its force, if all the circumstances of the fixture deliverance had been made too distinctly visible. Nor is it to be supposed that the intellectual faculties of man were yet sufficiently advanced , to comprehend all the deep and important truths involved in the destined mode and process of the redemption.
" But, although it might be proper to cast considerable obscurity over the future redemption, still we can also see reasons for its partial disclosure. Though man was fallen, and had offended God, it was not the design of his merciful Judge to drive him to despair. In this, as in every subsequent age, prophecy was intended to act its appropriate part of animating hope, and of directing the eye of faith toward some future good. And in the present instance, that intention was promoted by the well known prediction, which has been well termed the great charter of God's mercy to man,t the prediction respecting the seed of the woman. The time, the circumstances, the author, and the organ of that prophetic declaration, all conspire to prove that it was
* Gen. iv. 10. f Sherlock's Use and lateut of Prophecy, p. 72^
Charicllef's Lectures^' 1^
ifttfeided'tb Dettiftderstood, and in fact must have bfeen uh^efsfobd, in a sense much higher than the merely literal import of the words. It implied an avenger, an avenger to be especially derived from the woman, one who should maintain a continued enmity with the foe of mankind, and who, although he should himself receive some injury i» the conflict, should be fiilly victorious in the end. As the seed of the • woman,^he must have been man. But as the conqueror of him, who was now known to be more than a mere serpent, he must also be of a nature superior to that, which had yielded to the tempter. As, too, this conqueror was to deliver mankind from the power of their enemy, the deliverance would be commensurate in all points with the evil which had been brought on them ; and, this evil not being confined to temporal and immediate death, it seemed to follow that the reversal of their doom would extend to the reversal of some penalty, which was to have befallen them, not in their mortal nature, nor in their actual stage of existence ; a consideration which, if other instruction had been wanting, involved the doctrine of another life, and a future judg- ment.
*' But, if we should suppose that these conclusions were more than would probably have been formed from the naked enunciation of the . prophecy in question, we must next consider, that, even after the ex- pulsion of man from paradise, God still deigned to hold direct com- munication with him. The sacred history, brief as it is, speaks of God conversing with the inhabitants of the early world ; and speaki^ of it as a circumstance so much in the course of things, as to require no particular observation or comment. And, if this firequent inter- course subsisted, it is reasonable to suppose that subjects which con- cerned the most essential interests of man, should be brought under review ; and, in particular, that the original promise should be repeated, perhaps explicated and illustrated, and kept ever present to the minds of the faithful."-— pp. 55-8.
i I'.-; . - ■
Again:— •'■'•^" "
" Such appears to have been the great outline of the primeval dis- pensation. On the whole, both in its substance and in its form, it appears exactly suited to the circumstances of the case. We see Religion descending from heaven, and descending in such form as we- might expect in the infancy of the world, in all her native purity, with-* . out refinement, without artificial embellishment. In mercy to man, she draws aside that impenetrable veil, which would have concealed from his eyes the inmates of heaven ; she discloses to his view the Most High in all his glorious attributes, and even gives him a faint glimpse of the Redeemer, nearly lost in the obscurity of distance. She instructs her disciple in language plain and simple, because such was the language that suited his capacity. She tells him what it imme- diately concerned him to know, and what, as advancing time should ripen his faculties, might prepare him for farther instructions in the great mystery of godliness." — p. 61.
490 ChamdWsLMur^s,
But man did not long maintain in purity the principles and the practice of that primitive religion which had been communicated ito him. As numbers and civilisation increased, faith and morals declined ; and, at last, the whole human race, sinking under the trial to which they had been submitted, were visited by a signal judgment from the Creator, and with the exception of one pious family swept away by a flood from the face of the earth. But the blessings of the divine revelation were not thus suffered to perish with the creatures who had abused it. When Noah issued from the ark, he was nearly in the same situation with the first parents of mankind immediately after the fall ; with him the spark of religion was kept alive, the primitive faith was deposited, and the covenant was to be renewed ; but new modifications of society were required for the new era, and a new process was to be tried for the preservation of religion, and for the instruction of mankind, which is the subject of the next Sermon.
The contraction of the life of man within its present limits, the mitigation of the curse of sterility upon the earth, and the Vise of animal food now first permitted to mankind, are the cir- cumstances to which Dr. Chandler attributes the great and striking increase in the active energies of society, which soon began to show itself after the Flood ; and to the confusion of tongues which took place after the impious attempt at Babel, producing separa- tions of communities and interests ; and, by a further process, associations of enmity and friendship, with all the excitement and animation arising out of them, he imputes, in the course of time, conquest, commerce, literature, &c., that state of society, in short, which bespeaks the adolescence of the human race. In the mean time, however, man had a long, dark period of error and relapse to go through. The knowledge of the one God, invisible, immaterial, eternal, was too pure and too elevated a principle to be sustained without divine assistance, in the midst of a corrupted and divided people ; and the generality, seeking relief in the worship of objects perceptible to the sense, gradually sunk into polytheism and idolatry — a blighting mental aberration, which was never known to correct itself Hence the necessity of a partial dispensation to preserve, in the true faith, a select portion of mankind, and to secure from the deluge of idolatry one station where the Messiah, Avhen he should come, might rest the sole of his foot ; and hence, in pursuance of the divine system, the dis- pensation to the Jews.
We cannot follow Dr. Chandler through his account of the Jewish Economy, which, opening with the patriarch Abraham, was established in all its forms, in the midst of miracles and wonders,
Chandler's Lectures. 491
and with all its obligations, under Moses ; suffice it to say, that the objects, as stated by Dr. Chandler, are three : —
1st To preserve the Jewish people in the acknowledgment and worship of the one true God,
2dly. To set forth the Redeemer more prominently, and in a clearer light ; and
3dly. To establish and to strengthen other great truths condu- cive to the moral education and improvement of mankind.
These propositions are supported with great force and clearness through many striking facts, and many ingenious arguments, which we can only recommend to the attention of our readers ; but as the third occupies ground less trodden than the other two, we shall extract a specimen of the manner in which he establish«s it.
" The law abounds throughout with directions for the conduct of life, and with exhortations to holiness, interwoven with the religious commandments. And if we would see how far the code of Moses out- ran the morality of other nations, even in later and more cultivated times, how much it breathed by anticipation the spirit of the Gospel, let us recollect that our Lord himself, at times, was contented with restoring* the former precepts to their genuine and original meaning, and that he even borrowedf from the law his favourite, his invaluable rule, Thou shall love thy neighbour as thyself. Neither is this rule single and insulated, but is one out of numerous injunctions of a similar tone. Let us recollect the tender consideration of the Mosaic code for thej stranger and the bondman,§ urged on the people by the touching argument, that they had themselves been strangers and bondmen in the land of Egypt. Let us recollect its considerable regard for the poor in various directions, not to reap the corners of the field, || not to gather every grape of the vineyard,^ not to withhold tlie wages of the hired servant,** directions enforced with the awful sanction, / am the Lord thy God. Let us recollectft its injunction to rise up before the hoary head, and to honour the face of an old man. Let us recollect its cautions against oppressing or wronging the fatherless or widow. {J Let us recollect its beautiful provisions against unfeeling conduct toward debtors,§§ by forbidding the creditor to go into his house to fetch the pledge. Let us recollect its directions for befriending even an enemy, II II and its exquisite delicacy towards female captives taken in war.5[^ Let us recollect that it extends its tender mercies even to the inferior animals ; that it enjoins a rest for cattle as for men on the
* Matt. XV. 4, &c. •• Lev. xix. 13.
t Lev. xix. 18. ft Lev. xix. 32. |
^ J Lev. xix. 33, 34. H Dent. xxiv. 17, &c.i
§ Deut. XV. 15. §§ Deut. xxiv. 10, &c.;
II Lev. xix. 9. |||| Exod. xxxjii. 4, 5,j
V Ler. xix. 10. *II? Deut. xxi. 14.
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sabbath-day, and forbids the people to muzzle the ox that treadeth the corn,* or to destroy the dam, when they have occasion to take the young birds.t
" And in tracing the series of persons who, after Moses, acted under the inspiration of the spirit of God, we shall still find, that, while they spake of things directly appertaining to religious doctrine, they also made it a part of their office to expose and denounce vice, and to expound, enlarge, and enforce the requisitions of morality. To this the whole canon of the ancient Scriptures bears testimony. But there are two works more particularly of an ethical nature, that should not be passed by without especial notice ; I mean the Proverbs and the book of Ecclesiastes. Some centuries before certain philosophers of Greece, by a few moral aphorisms, acquired the title of wise men, these works existed ; and by the sagacity of their observations on men '£^i manners, by their excellent precepts for the conduct of life, and, more than all, by their reference of all moral obligation to the supreme will of God, they breathe that wisdom and understanding which it is expressly said their author received from the Lord. J
" The like observations might be applied to the sacred poetry of Israel. At present I do not speak of the inspired bards merely in their pro- phetical capacity. I speak of them also as the teachers of moral wisdom. And if we will compare their strains with the songs of pagan poets addressed to their deities, with the hymns, for instance, of Homer or Callimachus, we cannot fail to be struck, not only with the superior grandeur of their imagery, but with the higher tone of pure devotion and of noble sentiment that is breathed by the muse of Sion."-^ pp. 103-106. '*
Finally, he thus sums up the character of this dispensation : —
" First of all, we perceive God known and recognised in his true character. His unity forms the leading principle of the whole system ; it meets us in every point ; it is repeated word upon word, line upon line ; and is made the basis, not only of all religious worship, but of all moral obligation. The providential agency of God in superintend- ing and directing the system of the universe, his spirituality, his omnipotence, his eternity, his wisdom, his purity, are also powerfully asserted. And, more than all,§ the reconciliation of his justice with his mercy, the process by which two attributes, seemingly incom- patible, are made to unite together without confusion and without mutual injury ; this it is, that constitutes the distinguishing feature, as of the scheme of divine revelation in general, so especially of the Jewish dispensation. And this important subject it illustrates, by throwing a strong and continually increasing light on the great doc- trine of the atonement.
* Deut. XXV. 4. f Deut. xxii. 6. J 1 Kings iii. 12.
§ See in particular that very sublime passage, " And the Lord passed by before
him, and proclaimed, the Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long suffering
and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity
aad traasgressioa and sin, and that will by 7io means clear the guilty," £xod. xxxiv. 6,7,
.Chandler's Zeciwres. 493
, , •' So also to the Jews it was taught how to worship the great Being, thus worthily exhibited before them, with pure and holy rites. Oa the altar of Jehovah no human victim ever bled. With his worship no impurities, no debaucheries, were intermixed. His ritual was never made the instrument for promoting designs of worldly policy by de- lusive and fraudulent practices. Nor, under his religion, were external observances ever represented as substitutes for inward holiness and practical obedience.
" And as the faith of the Jews was thus pure, and their worship thus holy, so the great cause of virtue was promoted both by the character of their moral law, and by the basis on which it was placed. While the precepts were in themselves most excellent, and in advance before the morality of their age ; they were, at the same time, commanded to be practised on the proper ground of religious obedience, and v.'ith the sole view of serving and pleasing God.
" These, surely, are great steps in the science of sacred philosophy. These grand truths, once recognised and received as articles of religious belief, are calculated to give no slight elevation and impulse to the human mind. In the case now before us we cannot but adore the wisdom of God, who, in prosecuting his great scheme of redeeming love, so arranged his measures, as to advance, at the same time and by the same process, the landmarks of that knowledge on which the improvement of mankind maiidy depends. And to this wisdom we shall be yet more disposed to pay our humble tribute of admiration, when we farther, and in conclusion, observe, that the instructions, true to their constantly prevailing design, served at once to enlighten man- kind according to their immediate need, and also to tit and prepare them in due time to receive a fuller measure of religious and moral in- formation."—pp. 108-110.
■■' Having now considered the particulars of the Jewish dispensation, ki reference to tlie great scheme of Divine providence, the next Discoui-se embraces a question often discussed before, but of great importance to the present inquiry : viz. What benefit the Gentile nations dispersed over the world had derived from the revelations, communicated in the first instance to the patriarchs, or afterwards more fully to the chosen people ? for , . j' ,,,'|,!/ *,. ' ' •
" As the Gentile nations were intended to be partakers' equally with the Jews of the great salvation that was to follow, we might naturally expect that the course of Providence should have been'so ordered, that they should receive some benefit from the religious instructions vouch- safed to the chosen people ; that they should catch some rays issuing from the central luminary of divine truth." — p. 114.
In this inquiry the author proposes to show, 1st. By many remarkable facts recorded in the Bible, as well as in profane history — 2dly. By the uniformity of the mythological systems amongst nations, variously situated, and widely distant from each other, ])articularly with respect to the Deluge — And 3dly. From the general prevalence of animal sacrifices, which it would be
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494 Chandler'^ Lectures.
difficult to derive from any other source ; that the traces of the original revelations were never entirely obliterated in the Gentile world ; that Paganism, in its origin, sprang not so much from mere fiction, as from a corruption of the truth ; that the events of real history were less forgotten than corrupted ; and that the Pagan deities were beings not purely imaginary, but rather the primordial parents of mankind, whom, under different names, and with the addition of various legends, their descendants came in process of time to worship with divine honours. But how shall Ave account for those sublime speculations in theology which, rising among the heathen above the popular idolatry, seem at last to have " discerned dimly and faintly, through the mists of superstition, the one true God" — speculations not indeed com- mitted to the vulgar, but propagated amongst the initiated in the esoteric philosophy, under symbols and in mysteries, throughout Greece, and Persia, and India, and every region of the east.
Dr. Chandler thinks it not improbable, that as religious knowledge had originally been revealed from on high, so in later times the course of events was so regulated, that the " subsequent illumina- tion came in aid of the rising beams of science ; and that the two lights united found a passage into the secret recesses of many a temple, where, while the rays were screened from common eyes, they enabled the interpreters of sacred things to see their way throuo-h some of the darkness, which had o-athered round the vulgar." In support of this conjecture, he shows that the Jewish policy, both in principle and practice, was favourable to the com- munication of their faith ; that it made proselytes freely, and admitted strangers to a participation of their sacraments ; that in Solomon's time there were a hundred and fifty-three thousand and six hundred strangers settled in his kingdom, (2 Ch. xi. 17 ;) and that the intimate relations of the Jewish people, at different pe- riods, with Phoenicia and Egypt, the fountains at which the Greeks first imbibed their knowledge, and so often afterwards slaked their thirst, must have been the means of communicating some religious tenets through those channels. Nor is it necessary to this argu- ment to suppose any sustained or continued influx of opinion, either directly or indirectly, from Judea to Greece. That the lamp of the latter should have been once lighted at the flame of revelation is quite enough ; and however extraordinary and meritorious may appear to us the subsequent efforts of the Greek philosophers, in the pursuit of moral and religious truth, they only serve to show the necessity of further revelation, which such human knowledge might indeed have prepared their scholars to receive, but never could have led them to discover. They proved that philosophy had done its utmost, and had in fact done little ; for what effect did
Chandler's Lectures. 495
the example and precepts of Socrates himself, the best and wisest of these philosophers produce ? Every advantage was given to them after his death that his warmest admirers could have wished. His persecutors, were declared infamous — his memory was held in reverence — statues and temples were erected to his honour — his tenets and his precepts were embalmed in the recollections of his scholars, and propounded to the world with all the skill and all the learning that the most exalted talents in Greece or Rome could apply ; and yet, as Sherlock somewhere observes, " after fi3ur hundred years not a single man was so reformed as to renounce the superstition of his country."
But to return. Dr. Chandler then shows, with great perspicuity and success, that in the successive exaltation of the great empires of the world, the course of events was so regulated as either directly to communicate divine truth, or to prepare the way for its future diffusion : —
" In the mean while it should ever be remembered, that the little state of Judea was placed as it were a fixed and central luminary of religious knowledge, to which the other nations successively presented their darker sides. It was the glory of other states to excel in science, in arts, or in arms. In particular, the two last of the great empires have deeply stamped their memorials upon all fiiture times. In poetry, in music, in painting, in sculpture, in architecture, in oratory, in history, in criticism, in every art that gives embellishment and grace to human society, Greece has been, and will ever continue, the acknowledged standard of excellence, the example and mistress of all succeeding times. Alike distinction may be claimed for Rome, for its skill in the science of government, for its system of military discipline, for those institutions that impart a bold and vigorous tone to the mind of man. And great, unquestionably, are the obligations that we owe to each of those celebrated states. But there is something more valuable than literature and the fine arts ; something more important than even the power of conquering a world. This is the science that teaches us to know God, and how to obtain his favour. And whither shall we go to find the people with whom this science has been deposited ? It is not to those, who, for their deeds in arts or arms, have won the applauses of poets, orators, and historians. We must go to the Jews, the natives of a poor region, the derision and contempt of other nations. Yet there has been preserved that knowledge of God, which has been nearly lost in the rest of the world ; and thither, if they would renew their know- ledge, must the proud sons of science and of philosophy, of policy and of war, resort. This surely must be the hand of God. In perfect analogy with the dispensation to which these arrangements were introductory, and for which all things were now ready, God from the beginning chose the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty : — that no flesh should glory in his presence."* — pp. 151-153.
» I Cor. i. 27, 29.
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496 Chandler's Lectures.
We now apprbach that interesting period wheW"tft<6'"<3Teat Redeemer came into the world, to establish a covenant which was to last for ever : —
" On the one side, the need of some farther revelation was now plainly demonstrated. A fair and ample time had beeii given to prove what man could do in the way of knowing God, either by his own iin-' assisted powers, or by such aid from heaven as he had hitherto received. And the result of the experiment was this. Throughout the Gentile world the great mass of mankind was sunk in a base and degrading superstition. Toward rescuing the people from this state no attempt had been made, no thought of such an attempt had been conceived. Neither had any of those master spirits, who, in every age of the world, are in advance before their own times, been able to perceive divine truth with any steadiness or certainty. Still, on the other hand, the advance which the human mind had now made, indicated that the world was become more capable of receiving clearer and fuller infor- mation on divine things, if duly imparted. In several countries, litera- ture, science, and philosophy had been successfully cultivated. Some gifted individuals had struggled against the superstitious absurdities which they saw around them. They had their speculations respecting the nature of God ; respecting their own origin, the ends of their being and their future destination. And, if there should now appear one, who could confirm their surmises, and could farther add much original information on divine subjects ; one, who moi-eover could speak on such matters with the authority of a teacher sent from heaven ; such a messenger might indeed be misused and persecuted by those, with whom he came into immediate contact ; but he would utter a voice, which the world was not unprepared to hear, and which no human ejBTorts could by any possibility put eventually to silence. '-'^
" So, too, ethical science had now been advanced. The mind of man- had occupied itself in large speculations concerning the foundation of morals, concerning the best rules for the regulation of human life, concerning what contributes the most to individual, to national, and to general good. And, although many of these speculations were im- perfect, still a purer and more sublimated code of moral instruction, which, in a less intellectual period of the world, would have been un- intelligible, would have been little better than pearls cast before swine, might now be propovmded with a reasonable probability of being understood and justly valued.
" And, as the human mind appeared thus ripe for the 'reception of a higher system of religious and moral instruction, so the external condition of the world was favourable for the promulgation of such a dispensation. An age of high cultivation, as it was capable of inquiring into the pretensions of one professing to come from God, would pre- clude the suspicion of forgery or deception. And the peculiar circum- stance of the union of a very considerable portion of the world under one government, tended both to promote the civilisation requisite for the reception of a spiritual religion, and also to give facility for the wide diffusion of a dispensatiQn, which was destined, in its early stage,
Chandler's Lectures. 497
to be confined within no narrow limits, and, ultimately, to occupy the whole earth.
" At length, things being thus prepared, Jesus Christ, the promised seed of the woman, the end and object of the preliminary dispensa- tions, the subject of so many prophecies, the antitype of so many types, the substance of so many shadows, came into the world. He lived, he taught, he died. In him was accomplished all that the fathers had seen as through a glass darkly ; and in him the great scheme of human salvation had (so far as this world is concerned) its consummation and crown." — pp. 156-9.
' Having then stated, fully and strongly, the great and gracious end for which Christ came into the world, to die for the redemp- tion of mankind, thus completing the prophecies, and proclaim- ing a new era, he proceeds aftenvards to consider the moral and religious instructions communicated by Jesus, &c. which is divided into three heads, a further knowledge: First, respecting God ; secondly, respecting a future state ; thirdly, respecting the moral duties upon earth. Upon all these much interesting matter is judiciously selected and skilfully applied; — and from the whole, the following inferences are drawn, which close the Discourse.
" 1. It immediately strikes us, that the Christian dispensation is fitted for universal reception, and may be embraced by all people and nations and languages. In its rites and institutions there appears nothing that savours of locality ; nothing that may not be adopted with .equal propriety by every region of the earth ; nothing that should obstruct the completion of the prophecy, which declares, that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, aiid shall be exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow unto it.*
" 2. Next, as little can we fail to perceive, that Christianity is adapted to the matured, and, if I may so say, the adult state of human reason. It does not by a continued exhibition of miraculous agency force belief, as on children in understanding, incapable of weighing moral evidence ; nor does it impress its truth on the mind with the strength of irresistible demonstration. It requires to be in- vestigated and examined. Such an inquiry is, indeed, likely to end in conviction, a conviction the more satisfactory and the more calcu- lated to influence the practice, because it is unconstrained; But the inquiry cannot be properly conducted without some knowledge of past and present history, some philosophical insight into the moral and intellectual condition of man. And as such is the character of the evidences on which Christianity rests, it is also clear, that its doctrines, its motives, its sanctions, its precepts, are the most fitly propounded to man with his mental powers strengthened by exercise, and ex-
♦ Isaiah 11.2. Micah. ir. 1.
498 Cliandler's Lectures.
panded by knowledge and extensive observation. We can coticeive that some of its revelations respecting the divine nature, particularly that respecting the plurality of persons in the Godhead, might, in the times of ignorance, have been hard to be understood, and might also have been liable to be dangerously perverted : vphile, to the undei^., standing at once cultivated and corrected by wholesome discipline, it affords matter of contemplattion, pregnant not less with edification, than with wonder and delight. Its disclosures on the awful subject of the redemption require, even to be particularly understood, an intellect of no puny grasp, and capable of taking no contracted view of the system, on which the government of the universe is conducted. Its representations of the life to come, by the very rewards which they propose, address themselves to beings raised above the grossness of merely sensual gratification. And its precepts, as they exhibit virtue in her simpler form and more modest attire, presuppose, and tend farther to nourish and invigorate, a refinement of the moral sense, a pure and chastised taste in ethics, which we may vainly seek in the coarser apprehensions of rudeness and ignorance. At the same time, those very precepts, simple as they may appear, have such elastic and expansive force, that, while they fit and apply themselves to the capa- city of the lowliest peasant, they afford scope for the exercise of humatt virtue in its largest, most conspicuous, and most influential sphere of action.
" 3. And, as the gospel is thus associated with the advancement and cultivation of the human intellect, so, in its tendency to elevate and ennoble our moral nature, we may perceive a farther develope- ment of that principle, on which throughout these Lectures we have constantly fixed our attention, and which has been the principal clue to guide us in our inquiry, viz. the progressive improvement and exaltation of fallen man, by a course of instruction suited to his circumstances and capacity. The general effect of the fall Was to de- grade us from our high estate, to fix our affections on things below, ■ and to engage us in pursuits and occupations base, earthly, and sen- sual. On the other hand, the very essence of the gospel is spirituality. Its most expressive motto is, Sursum corda. Its constant aim is to raise us above the objects of sense, to make n&walk by faith, and not by sight* And, with this view, it, above all things, declares ir- reconcilable and interminable war with that deadliest foe of all human improvement, the principle of selfishness. When it bids us deny ourselves ;-\ when it bids us abstain from fleshly lusts ;% when it bids us stifle those emotions of wounded self-love, which seek to vent them- selves in deeds of malice and revenge ;§ when it bids us prefer the interests of others to our own ;|| when it bids us perform our best acts in secresy, and with no hope of reward from man ;^ when it bids us concentrate in our own persons every moral excellence,** and
* 2 Cor. V. 7. II Rom. xii. 10.
t Matt. xvi. 24. ^ Matt. vi. 4.
X 1 Pet. ii. 11. *»2Pet. i. 5. § Matt. V. 38, &c.
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Sisplre to 'thfe perfections even of God himself ;* yet, all this bein^ done, when it bids us assume no honour to ourselves, but casting down every high imagination, declare that we are unprofitable servants,^ and that we place all our hopes of acceptance on merits not our own ; when such are its dictates, it strikes at the very root from which all evil originates ; it inspires principles the most spiritualized, th6 most defecated from every earthly admixture ; and, in whatever de-^ gree those principles can be carried into action, in that degree it raises us above our present state of infirmity and corruption, and assimilates us once more to that image of God, in which we were originally created.
" With what success the religion, thus extensive in its range, thus intellectual, thus elevated and spiritual in its character, has been ad- dressed to the world ; what has been its progress, what its influence, what are the causes that have principally impeded its operation, and our reasonable expectations for the future, will be our inquiry for the sequel of these Lectures. At present I would simply point out to your notice what, in the actual state of the question, offers itself to the eye of a casual observer. A low-born and indigent person, the inhabitant of a sterile and despised province, himself possessed of no advantages of learning or foreign travel, attended by a few poor, lowly, illiterate, and timorous followers, disclaiming all force and violence, sets about to overturn the religion of the world, and to erect on its ruins a new system, calculated to change and amend the whole aspect of human affairs. Every human probability is against such an enterprise ; and, if it should succeed, it must surely be that the hand of God is with it. The result we shall now see. The station has been taken ; the instruments have been set ; and the problem is to move the world." — pp. 184-191.
The scheme now ^idvances towards its close ; but, before we follow Dr. Chandler in the remainder of his course, which is an inquiry into the effects and influence of Christianity, and the hopes hereafter to be entertained from it, we must pause to offer candidly an opinion suggested to us, we confess from the first, and confirmed in the progress of the work, that the proof of an effective successful amelioration of the human race, collectively by former revelations, has not been and cannot be sufficiently made out. We are well aware of the caution with which the hypothesis was laid down, and of the irregularities to which the course of it was said to be liable ; nor can we conceal from ourselves the difficulty of proving either the affirmative or the negative of this interesting question : but giving all due weight to these suggestions, it does appear to us, that the facts brought forward by the author, however favourable to other parts of his theory, must produce, without some application of which we are
• Matt. T. 48. 1 Pet. i. 15. t Luke xrli. 10.
600 Chandler's Lectures.
not aware, an impression unfavourable to the last. What shall we say, for instance, to those two great landmarks in history, the Flood, "and the Redemption ? They close two remarkable and nearly equal periods of two thousand years, Avhich comprise toge- ther more than two-thirds of the Avorld's duration; and yet view them as we will, and compare them with what antecedent points of time we may, they appear to us almost inconsistent with the scheme.
The depravity they exhibit, it will be remembered, was not in either case the effect of sdme moral storm ; such as was the French revolution, crushing violently all sacred institutions within its reach and deforming the face of the intellectual world, but a degree of wickedness to which they arrived by degrees, the effect of causes operating quietly and silently upon the human heart, and sapping the foundation of every thing that was holy and good in it. The Deluge itself, with its sweeping desolation, speaks sufficiently to the moral state of mankind at the first period ; and St. Paul with the Roman poets, and historians on the one hand, and Josephus on the other, testify as strongly to the character of the last. In truth, though the Jewish history displays many a bright example of piety and virtue amongst its patriarchs, prophets, and monarchs; though in arts, in arms, in science, and in cultivation, wonderfur advances had been made by the heathen nations ; yet, collectively speaking, neither the Gentile, on whom only the scattered and distant rays of revelation had fallen, nor the Jews who had lived in the full splendour of them, had made any progress in moral worth. How then shall we reconcile these facts with the hypo- thesis ? Will it be argued, that amidst the moral darkness and depravity which signalized these times, there was still in both cases some bright spot remaining, in whicli the lessons of Tevela^- lion were treasured to shed their improving influence over the generations which were to folloAv ? and that Noah and his family in the ark, and the Jews who acknowledged their Messiah, with the Gentiles who received him, were instruments in the hands of Providence to continue respectively the divine instructions, and to graft upon former reA^elations all the blessings and advantages of the ncAV? be it so. But Avhat can we infer from it.'* Much consolatory confidence, no doubt, in the benevolent irreversible decrees of the Almighty, but nothing favourable to the system of a general moral amelioration of his creatures. In truth, Avhatever may be the case, subsequently to the coming of the Messiah, it is difficult to trace the course of any systematic improvement previous to it ; nor do we think such an hypothesis, upon any ground, important. That all the revelations of God to man were intended for his moral benefit, both present and future, Ave have the strongest evidence that words, and deeds, and miracles, can
Qhandler's Lectures. 56^'
give : but there is this remarkable difference bet^veen any other revelation and that of the Messiah, tliat the former were ail temporary and preparatory, the latter permanent and final. In the fulness of time God sent his son into the world; and in this distinction, supported as it is by the superior sanctions, the subliraer morals, and the preeminent universality of the Gospel, there is sufficient ground to expect a wide difference in its effects ; Vana etiam Lex donee venerit Messias, said the Jewish doctors. And when we reflect further, that the Christian religion is particularly adapted for a high state of mental cultivation, civili- sation, and refinement, — that state, in fact, to which under well- regulated governments mankind naturally tend, and that the other revelations were not ; we have another reason why the last may be eventually successful as a general discipline, though the former, amid the changes of the world, may have been intended to fall short of it. Dr. Chandler insists upon the fitness of the means in preceding revelations to produce these effects ; it is one thing, however, to view a measure on the side of its apparent fitness for a particular purpose, and another on the side of its success, but bcvth must concur to establish a proof of the system ; and yet the means which are fit at one time, may not be so at another, when the circumstances are changed, — which seems to be the case before us. New measures then become necessary, but in the mean time great aberrations may have taken place ; and in the frequent recurrence of such aberrations there is surely no solid ground upon which the system can rest. ;,,, ,),ir >!<(,
Having now submitted these observations, to Dr. Chandler, respecting the only point upon which we have the misfortune to differ from him, we shall now proceed through the remainder of his work, upon which, though there is much in it to approve, we are compellecl to be very brief. In the sixth Sermon, containing the " History of the Progress of Christianity," it was natural to expect that to Rome, whether imperial or papal, would be assigned an important part. Accordingly, this ha.s been done. Whatever influence, whether baneful or propitious, has been ex^ ercised over the Church of Christ by the power of this remark- able State in the course of so many ages, has been described with great success and ability, and with as much fulness as the limits would admit. And the inquiry has been pursued through all the changes of its government and policy, from the time that Christianity first dawned upon the verge of its extensive empire to the present day. With the papal power he has dealt fairly and candidly ; for though he has descri})ed with great truth and freedom the many striking evils which the corruptions of that church have inflicted upon the Gospel, he has neither concealed aor detracted: fco^ tlie. great advaritsges. whigU were 4eriY84
5^2 Chandler^g Lectures.
from the influences of its early policy and institutions. Of this we shall give a proof: —
"The circumstances, that gave elevation and ascendancy to the papal power, enabled it to confer no slight advantage on society, broken and disjointed as society then was, if it were only that it estab- lished one central point, to which the several nations might look with respect and deference ; that it formed a bond of union to connect rude, jealous, and untractable states into something like one general system.
" But this was by no means all. It more belongs to our course of inquiry to observe, that the same circumstances enabled the Roman pontiffs to be serviceable, in other points, which were more directly connected with religion, and which might have been vainly expected from any secular power, or even from an hierarchy without wealth and influence, and acting merely by the desultory efforts of individual zeal or piety.
" Of these points, the most obvious was the conversion of the heathen. By the irruption of the northern hordes, some countries, which before had embraced Christianity, were relapsed into Paganism. Not only, however, were these countries recovered to the dominion of Christ, by emissaries* acting under the chief authority of the church ; but, penetrating whither neither the ambition nor the enlightened cu- riosity of the Romans had carried them, the same emissaries advanced the standard of the cross into some of the remoter regions of Europe, which, at successive periods, became members of the Christian com- monwealth.f
" Nor did the ecclesiastical power confine its services to the first con- version of those people, but continued to exercise a | salutary influ- ence over the minds of its rude proselytes. As, at that period, it nei- ther had nor pretended to have any military strength, it excited no jealousy among the warlike barbarians; and, trusting solely to the authority of its sacred character, it often was able to strike with awe and remorse the wild chieftain who defied all human ordinances, to preach peace and moderation between infuriated factions, to mitigate the horrors of war and the cruelties of slavery, and to protect those who had no other protectors, to befriend those who had no other fi"iends, on earth.
" In these offices, and not less in their other great service, the pre- servation of learning, the Roman pontiffs had powerful auxiliaries in the monastic orders. I will not pretend to say that these establish- ments were instituted solely to promote the interests of genuine reli- gion; nor that they were not subject, even at the beginning, and, still more, in later times, to great abuses. But, in the peculiar cir- cumstances of those times, as it was useful that there should be a
* Mosheim, vol. ii. p. 8.
f Moslieim, particularly vol. ii. p. 97, 204.
X For various interpositions of the church to promote peace, and particularly for an account of the *' Truce of God," see Robertson, vol. iv. p. 336. See also Haliam, vol.iii. p. 351.
Chandler's Lechif^^ ^(J^
Bd^y of men, ready at hand to undertake any reli^otis services, whe- ther to convert the heathen or to controul and overawe professed Chris- tians ; — so no small benefit was derived from their professional labours in cultivating science and learning. In fact, by their care, and by theirs alone, the lamp of knowledge was kept from expiring. In their libraries books were preserved, and their leisure enabled them to mul- tiply copies. The lands, which belonged to the monasteries, always indicated their possessors by their superior cultivation and fertility ; the consequence, not only of the more secure protection which they enjoyed, but of the skill of the religious orders in various processes, by which the produce of the earth is increased. Much of their exuberant wealth Was also nobly employed in encouraging such of the liberal arts as then survived, and more especially those connected with the services of religion. Painting, though rude, was not unknown. Music was held in high estimation. Of their proficiency in sculpture we still have some interesting and valuable remains. But, more than all, to their taste and skill in architecture ^e are indebted for those magnifi- cent churches, which, for proportion and for the technical details of the art, are so truly admirable ; and which in all that depends upon the imagination, in their power to impress the mind and excite feel- ings of devotion and awe, may challenge comparison with the noblest edifices, erected by the most cultivated nations in their most cultivated periods.
" Nor, even as time advanced, did the papal power cease to avail it- self of its opportunities to spread the name of Christ among heathen nations. As, in early times, it had introduced Christianity into the remoter parts of Europe, so, when the progress of events presented a new field for the extension of the Gospel, it was not backward to oc- cupy the groimd. We know the great consequences that have ac- crued to mankind from the discovery of the mariner's needle. At a period when the mind of man was becoming restless, and desirous to find some field whereon to exercise its activity, this discovery served, if not to generate the spirit of maritime discovery, yet to give to that spirit a strong impulse and a powerful assistance, without which it could not have effected any thing great. In process of time, it led to the discovery of another hemisphere beyond the Atlantic, and to the new passage into India. With the vast changes, which these events have made in the state and condition of the world, I have at present no more to do than to remark, that they opened a new and immense range for the farther diffiision of Christianity, especially in the new world. I must not be supposed ignorant of the arrogant pretensions of the papal power to dispose of those newly discovered regions, or of the selfish nlotives which dictated those pretensions. Neither was the zeal of its missionaries always pure, nor the measures which they em- ployed either warrantable in themselves, or such as were likely to give the greatest and most permanent effect to their labours. Still, on a view of the whole question, their conduct in the early transactions of America stands * honourably distinguished from the cruelty and re-
• See Robertson, vol, ix. p. 308. and vol. xi. p. 8, &c.
304 Chandler's Lectures.
morseless • fanaticism of the soldiery. And when we advert to the dreadful nature of the idolatries that prevailed in some of those coun- tries ; and when we further consider, that we should in vain seek for any other human instruments, by whom the task of conversion could then have been undertaken ; — we shall be disposed to recollect, not un- thankfully, that by the ecclesiastical ag-ents the old superstitions were overthrown and the knowledge of Christ introduced into regions of the globe, that bear no slight proportion to the parts before known. At least the precious seed was sown. And if, with that seed, much of a pernicious nature was intermixed, we look forward with confi- dence to the time, when the weeds shall be gradually eradicated, and the wheat be left to sustain and make glad the heart of man with the pure bread ofltfe.^' — pp. 208-214.
The following chronological statement of the Romish corrup- tions belongs rather to the last Sermon ; but for some reason, it has been appended as a note to this, and as it is a curious, though not complete document of the kind, we insert it here
too :-^ ' .; ■■rta; ■).;;. iii .- ■ , Ir ^: , ..-, ,w -t
" Century 'rt.' Mafrfa^'aiid eating flesh forbid; Lent enjdiri*^^ the keeping of Easter and excommunication begun to be abused. "^
" Cent. III. Keeping of Christmas and Whitsunday enjoined; com- memoration of martyrs : sacred vestments ; oblations for the dead ; sacraments corrupted ; new orders of clergymen instituted ; and' »i monastic life applauded. "l : r/i- «; d;' ^ '.inf
" Cent. IV. Relics venerate ;pitgrJmages recommended; Friday made a fast day ; and the clergy forbad to marry.
" Cent. V. Pictures, images, and altars erected in churches ; tapers burnt at noonday ; penance, and prayers for the dead practised ; monasteries erected for nuns.
" Cent. VI. Sacrifice of the mass ; the clergy exempted from .the civil jurisdiction ; indulgences established ; heresy made death. ,, .3^^
" Cent. VII. Pope made universal bishop; Pantheon dedicated tOi: all the saints ; prayers to saints, and the Latin language enjoined.
" Cent. VIII. Pope made a temporal prince, and begun to depose kings ; image worship enjoined.
" Cent. IX. Saints canonized ; and transubstantiation maintained ; college of cardinals instituted.
" Cent. X. Agnus Dei's invented, and bells baptized.
" Cent. XI. Purgatory and beads invented.
" Cent. XII. The scholastic writers arose.
" Cent. XIII. Cup refused to the laity ; auricular confession en- joined; jubilee appointed; friars instituted.
" Cent. XIV. Indulgences sold.
" Cent. XV. Seven sacraments established." — pp. 204-205.
The progress, character, and effects of the Reformation, are after- wards described; and in the continued influence of that light, in the diffusion of knowledge and civilisation, in the extension of European commerce, and the increasing prevalence of its power, and above
Chandler's Lectures. 5fiJ^'
all, in the zeal for disseminating the Christian truth among the nations of the earth, which particularly distinguishes this country, he seems to discern a visible progress towards that state," "When the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea."
The seventh Sermon contains a statement of the beneficial effects of the Gospel on the great structure of human society, more particularly when compared with Pagan institutions and Pagan philosophy ; and the last is a summary of the hopes we may entertain from the Gospel, including, of course, a consider- ation of the various obstacles, external and internal, which still continue to impede its progress. Of the latter these are stated to be the chief : — ,v_,{ i;
" Ist, The excessive fondness for discussion at once minute and' acrimonious on points of theology, which have but a remote influenctf* on practice : secondly, the vain endeavour to improve upon the Gospel, ' as we have received it from the hands of its Divine author, by human additions : thirdly, the false notion, that Christianity thrives best in the soil of ignorance, or should be propagated by any arts hut those , of persuasion and legitimate argument: fourthly, the dangerous attempt to make Christianity a mere engine for the .acquisition of secular', power." — p. 285.
And now we must take our leave ; but copious as our extracts have been, we cannot refrain from citing the last few pages, in which the piety and good sense of the author are so con- spicuous;—
" And so, having thus far traced the progress .and developement of the great scheme of divine revelation as it relates to this world, we may perceive in part accomplished, and tending apparently to a fuller accomplishment, its supreme and ultimate design, viz. its design to be introductory to a nobler order of thing's hereafter. As each of the earlier dispensations of religion led the v/ay to the succeeding one, and, revealing to man more and more of the great fcounsel of God, enabled him to render a better obedience to the divine law; so we believe the Christian dispensation, the last that shall be communicated in this world, was designed to advance man to such a state of improve- ment in his human nature as he can receive ; to restore him as nearly as he can now hope to approach to the similitude of God ; and, by tliis process, to make him once more meet to he partalcer of the inherit- ance of the saints in light* As the Gospel has given him a fuller knowledge of divine things; as it has instructed him more correctly in the nature of his obligations in this world ; as it has furnished him with more cogent motives for the performance of his earthly duties ; and as it has procured for him additional aids to carry his knowledge into practice ; in these respects, it surely has been designed, and has
been calculated, to advance him in his moral nature ; and, unless the
-' ' •'■'- i^
f! » i - * Goloss. i, 12, . /I •fi.iiiii.n
Chandler's Lectures.
views which I have taken in the preceding Lectures are altogether erroneous, may we not venture to pronounce that, in fact, it has so advanced him? And thus it appears, the link, that connects the present system of things with the future world, is begun to be formed. Of the nature of the life to come we know but little ; nor, with our present faculties, is it possible that here we should know much. But every thing tells us that the course, by which this world is governed, is preparatory and introductory to that which is to follow. St. Paul, ie his Epistle to the Hebrews, sets forth at large how the various ordinances and institutions of the Jewish church were adumbrations of the more spiritual worship, to be established under the Gospel. In like manner it may be said, that the clearer knowledge respecting the Divine nature vouchsafed to us by the Gospel, prepares us for the beatific vision, hereafter to be presented to our eyes, when we shall see God face to face. The additional motives and aids for the per- formance of our earthly duties, now imparted, tend to fit us for that state, where it shall be our employment to serve God day and night in his temple* The pure and serene pleasures enjoyed by the pious Christian, in the humble hope of his acceptance with God, are a foretaste of those future enjoyments, when he shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall the sun light on him, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed him, and shall lead him unto living fountains of water ; and God shall wipe away all tears from his eyes.-\ And, once more, the cele- bration of the name of Christ over the earth is an earnest of that scene, prophetically beheld by the beloved apostle ; when he heard the voice of many angels round about the throne and the beasts and the elders. And the number of them was ten thousand times ten, thousand, and thousands of thousands; saying with a loud voice. Worthy is the Lamb, that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. And every creature, which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I saying. Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth ttpon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.X
" To these passages, so magnificent, so awfully sublime, it is almost sacrilege to add a v/ord. Nor will I add more than one brief observa- tion, with which I would wish to conclude this humble, this veiy humble, attempt to illustrate the manner, in which the Almighty has developed the great scheme of divine revelation. We may distinctly perceive the process, by which God has dealt forth his successive dis- pensations of religion to mankind, adapting them to the condition and circumstances of the world at the time ; making each a suitable instil- ment for the introduction of something farther ; and, by this wise arrangement, tending to the point which we believe him ever to have had in view, viz. not only the spiritual salvation of fallen man, but his progressive improvement in this stage of his existence. All this we
* Rev. vii. 15. t Rev, vii. 16, 17. f Rev. v. 11, 12, 13,
Chandler's Lectures. Offf
m$-y distinctly perceive ; and, on a view of the actual state of the world , we may see, or fancy we see, that the word of God now runs and is glorified, and promises yet more mightily to grow and prevail, till it shall extend its triumphs over all lands. But still there is a question of paramount interest, that concerns us all individually and personally ; how far shall each one of us partake of everlasting salvation ? The kingdom of God may extend itself to the utmost limits of the earth ; yet we> severally, may be shut out. It is only by a life of righteous- ness ; by a life holy, just, and pure, in proportion to our allotted mea- sure of knowledge and ability, that we can secure our own salvation, through the merits of the crucified Redeemer. And, as Christianity identifies the true interests of individuals with the interests of the general cause of religion, it is only by such a course that we can con- tribute our personal aid towards that great consummation, when, the earth being full of the knowledge of the Lord,* it shall be ripe to be absorbed into another and a more glorious system, when there shall be new heavens and a new earth wherein dwelletfy righteousness." ■[ — pp. 294-300.
u -Considering how much Dr. Chandler has effected upon such a Bubject, within the narrow limits assigned to him, and with what candour and ability he has performed his task throughout, it is almost invidious to point out where more might have been done. But as the subject is curious and interesting, and has sometimes occurred to ourselves, we venture to suggest, that out of the facts, serving to illustrate the moral history of man from the Redemp- tion to the present day, it would have been ])racticable to institute a comparative view of the influence of Christianity at much closer intervals than Dr. Chandler has attempted, and thence to infer more clearly the existence of a divine plan, for the pro- gressive amelioration of mankind by means of revelation. Nor would such a task, if attempted in a pro])er spirit of humility, be without its use. Whatever its success, it would have the effect of bringing forwards for the benefit of posterity those causes which, upon a great scale, have been found on experience either to further or to impede the progress of the Christian scheme — and if the result were favourable, as is most probable, it would add one more powerful encouragement to every man, upon a principle of the most exalted benevolence, to assist with all his means in the propagation of the Christian faith. But in the execution of this task, there are one or two points presenting themselves at the outset, upon which we shall venture to hazard a few observations. First, it would not be fair to institute a comparison betwixt the great mass of the Christian world at a subsequent period, with that select body of faithful servants who
• Isaiah xi. 9. f 2 Pet. iii. 13.
Chandler's Lectures.
■.at any time, during the three first centuries, adorned the Christian church. Not so much because they had the pecuhar advantage of Uving so near the Apostohc age, but because the reUgion being not then national, their canons and opinions cannot be considered as fairly representing the effect of the Christian principle upon the average capabilities of the human mind. At that time, the candidates for baptism were not admitted without being able to give sufficient proof of their knowledge in all things necessary to salvation ; men betook themselves to Christianity as to a refuge from the world which they abjured, and they sought it as a privilege with penitence and labour and anxiety, and some- times not without sacrifices. In such a body ignorance was im- possible, and misconduct very rare ; but, at present, since the world is called Christian, how different all this must necessarily be, we need not say.
Again, m estimating the progress of Christian influence On society, it is clear from the very nature of the case, that it can never be very regular, nor very rapid. ' Christianity is not like any other science, in which each new generation succeeds at once to the discoveries of those which had gone before ; and in which the new labourers starting almost at once, or after an easy process, from the goal at which their predecessors had arrived after much toil and experience, pursue other truths, Avhich they impart in like manner to those who come after them. No — in this science there is no new problem to be solved, no new discovery to be made, for the ease of those who follow. On one side is the Word of God, perfect as it came from its divine author; no one can add thereto, nor diminish therefrom. On the other, the natural corruption of the human heart, much the same, we presume, as it was in former times. Under these circum- stances, every man who comes into the world must fight the fight of Christian faith for himself, and work out his own salvation with fear and trembling, — under such divine aids only as have been vouchsafed to his forefathers ; and the state of Christianity, at any period, is nothing else than the aggregate results of these several contests, every man with his own passions and tempta- tions. But although nothing new is to be learned in the princi- ples of Christianity from those who have gone before us, there is much aid to be derived from them in the practice of it, and par- ticularly on the side of those dangers which assail us from the world. The stream of sin, it is said, runs from one age into ano- ther, and the bent of our own appetites inclines too often in the same direction ; but there is happily another stream of piety and virtue flowing also from generation to generation, and the wider its bed, the freer and more pleasing its course, the more will the
Chandler's Lectures. 509
numbers increase of those who are borne away in the current of it. And here open to our view many pleasing forms of that growing and benignant influence, which thus gives a right move- ment and direction to our rising youth, for besides those direct and obvious aids which are derived from good laws and in- stitutions, and government; from books of piety, and sound learning; from good seminaries of education; and, above all, from an active, intelligent, and conscientious ministry — there is a variety of other causes which operate indirectly to the same effect. Every permanent institution springing from the principles, or imbued with the spirit, of Christianity ; our churches, our hos- pitals, and our schools of charity — our asylums for the destitute and the penitent — our societies for the suppression of vice, and the diffusion of virtue — are all so many sources and fountains of Christiun feeling, tending to swell the current and to adorn the banks of that sacred flood, which the blessing of God will never cease to accompany in its course. Still, however, it may be said, that while the grace and the power of Christianity are advanced by these means in one quarter, they may be compelled to recede in another by the influence of opposite fashions and institutions. And this will be the case ; but there is one advantage on the side of Christianity which strikes us as important, viz. that though a wicked man may by his ex- ample and influence effect as much mischief in his generation as a pious man may do good, he has not the same facilities of transmitting them to posterity. Men cannot now-a-days erect temples to the gods of this world — they cannot endow schools to plant the seeds of falsehood and depravity— or form societies to encourage cruelty or to propagate infidelity. Thus, therefore, may we hope, that the balance will continue still increasing in favour of the Christian cause. But the subject would carry us too far. Of one thing, however, we may be sure, that in whatever proportion we contribute towards the establishment or support of these benevolent institutions, in the same degree do we cooperate in the divine plan of Providence propounded by Dr. Chandler. {T-/'. .^it.M- ^ » - ; .
ririijiMiiu) t"
VOL. I. 2 M
510 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge.
Art. XIV. — The Studies and Pursuits of the University of Cam- bridge stated and vindicated. By the Rev. Lathoin Waia- wright, M.A. 1815.
It has long been a favourite speculation with a certain class of writers, to enlarge upon the defects of the English universities as places of public and general education ; and the variety of forms which the several attacks upon these venerable establish- ments have assumed, will, in many cases, explain the principles and the motives of the persons by whom they are made. Thus by some they are considered as the nurseries of a bigoted attach- ment to Tory principles and arbitrary power, the strong-holds of religious and political intolerance ;■ — or stigmatized as hot-beds of every species of vice and debauchery, where the modesty and ingenuousness of youth is corrupted by evil example, unrestrained license, and systematic extravagance : whilst others decry their literary and scientific studies, as equally confined in extent, depth, and variety : where the numerous encouragements to in- dustry, which are presented by their wealthy foundations, are misdirected or misapplied : where every part of their institutions, in short, is opposed to the progress of knowledge.
We have, in no respect, exaggerated those charges which have been made in former times as well as at present, by reformers and innovators in church and state, who viewed with natural jealousy and dislike whatever institutions were calculated to maintain them unchanged : by professors in other universities differently con- stituted from ours, with whom it was a natural feeling to endea- vour to raise the character of their own establishments by de- pressing that of others : and lastly, by enthusiasts in education, who are labouring to entice speculators to embark their capital in a new academical company, upon the plea that the machinery of those already established is cumbersome and superannuated, and that their produce is bad in quality, deficient in quantity, and ex- travagant in price. It is not our intention to enter into a serious examination of those charges, most of which, however zealously propagated, originate in quarters to which little credit is attached: but there are some which have been advanced by persons who have so many claims upon the respect and veneration of the lite- rary and scientific world, particularly with reference to the studies of the universities in former times, that we may be excused for noticing them somewhat in detail.
A contemporary critic has appealed to the authority of Bacon, to show, that " in the customs and institutions of schools, uni-
Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. 511
versities, colleges, and the like conventions, destined for the seats of learned men and the promotion of knowledge, all things are found opposed to the advancement of the sciences." If, however, the opinion of that great analyst of the causes which from all ages have retarded the progress of scientific knowledge, apply to the present constitution of such bodies, we are afraid that its ap- plication is much too general, to exempt from its operation even the proposed establishment whose cause he is advocating : at all events, he has not sufficiently shown why his own plan is so essen- tially different in its nature, as to be altogether exempt from the defects which attach to all other academical establishments : with- out, however, entering into a speculative contest about what the universities of Cambridge and Oxford must be, and what that of London may be, we shall just state in what sense the observations of Bacon applied to these bodies at the time when he wrote, and our reasons for thinking that they are not applicable now.
At that period it could not properly be said, that there existed any recognised system of philosophy, different from that which is con- tained in the works of Aristotle ; for though Galileo had already begun to lay the foundations of a more correct examination of the phenomena of nature, and though Des Cartes was projecting an entire revolution both in physical and metaphysical science, yet their works belong rather to the following age, and had not yet produced that fermentation in the minds of men, which ter- minated, at a later period, in the establishment of ^he principles of inductive philosophy, and the knowledge of the true system of the universe : so universal, indeed, was this submission to the authority of Aristotle, that no suspicion was as yet entertained of the approaching downfall of his philosophy, which had pre- vailed for so many ages, except, perhaps, in those mighty and prophetic minds which penetrated through the veil which bounded the vision of the rest of mankind.
It is not surprising, therefore, that the universities should have reflected the general spirit of the age, and that their whole system and constitution should be adapted to the study and exposition of those writings and principles, which were regarded with such general reverence; and in order to show ho^ completely the spirit of academical instruction at that period was impregnated with this philosophy, and the extent to which all other studies were absorbed in it, we shall give a short sketch of the course pursued in the college and university where Bacon received his education. He was admitted a member of Trinity College at the age of twelve years, under the tuition of Whitgift, who was at that time master, and under whose directions the statutes both of the college and university had been lately remodelled, and had
2m2
612 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge.
assumed the form which, according to the most enlightened opi- nions of the age, was best adapted to the purposes of general education.
The public lectures of Trinity College were given by nine per- sons, to each of whom was assigned a specific department : they were placed under the direction and superintendence of the Lector Primarius, or Head Lecturer, by whom the several classes were, from time to time, examined, and who had the power of imposing fines upon the other lecturers for neglect of duty : to him, also, was assigned the exposition of the physical works of Aristotle, the task considered of all others the most important, and, as we may easily conceive, of all others the most difficult : for this purpose he assembled his class, consisting of students in their fourth year, and bachelors of arts of less than three years' standing, at six o'clock every morning in the college hall, and spent an hour and a half, partly in an examination of their pro- ficiency in what had been read and explained at former lectures, and partly in the exposition of his author : and in the statute in which his duties are prescribed, it is added, as if to guard against eveiy attempt at future innovation, — Fr ester Aristotelem in docendo Philosophiam, alium autorem prceterea neminem interpretetur. The explanation of other and less elevated departments of this philosophy were distributed amongst four sublectores, whose duties are thus described: "Primus legat Topica Aristotelis: secundus exponat vel Rudolphum Agricolam de inventione, vel librum de Elenchis Aristotelis, vel libros qui analytici dicuntur: Tertius Praedicabilia Porphyrii vel Praedicamenta Aristotelis, vel libros de interpretatione ejusdem auctoris, prout classis ipsius postulat. Quartus et infimus interpretetur Dialecticee introduc- tionem, sic ut classis infima commode introductione informata, veniat ad Porphyrium et Aristotelem paratior," The lectures on these subjects took place every day, and continued during the same time as those of the Lector Primarius ; and in order to secure a regular attendance of the students, a fine of one penny was imposed upon all adult absentees, and of one halfpenny upon those who came late ; whilst a good whipping was the allot- ted punishment of the unfortunate youth who could not boast the protecting privilege of a beard.
To the other four lecturers were assigned respectively the Greek and Latin languages, mathematics, and grammar : the first was directed to explain Homer, Hesiod, Plato, Demosthenes, or any other author, at the discretion of the master: to the second it was recommended to confine himself chiefly to the works of Cicero, and on every Saturday, to give lectures on rhetoric, with examples from Latin authors : it was his duty also to explain the
u i.j I Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. , 513
rules of Latin composition, and to take care that there should be no one in the college who should not be able to compose in verse : the third gave lectures upon those mathematical sciences which were kno^vn at that period, namely, Arithmetic, Geometry, the doctrine of the Sphere, Cosmography, Astronomy, and the theory of Music, which all bachelors of arts were obliged to at- tend : and the duty of the fourth and last of the lecturers, was to instruct the junior classes in Grammar, to explain to them the grammatical institutions of Cleonardus, Ceptorinus, and Gaza, to subject them to frequent examinations on the subject of his lectures, and every Saturday to hear memorial repetitions of the principal rules.
Such was the course of instruction pursued in the greatest of the colleges in Cambridge, which is so justly distinguished for the many enlarged and liberal views which have presided in its foundation, and which has furnished to literature and to science so many great and illustrious names ; and such in the opinion of Contemporary writers was the course which seemed best adapted to the purposes of general education : in forming an opinion, how- ever, of a system so completely at variance both with modern practice and modern knowledge, there are many circumstances peculiar to the times, which must be taken into consideration. The students commenced their residence at a much earlier age, and continued there generally for a much longer time : they chummed together, three or four in the same room, under the in- spection of a master of arts, or other person of superior age : they were obliged to acquire that preparatory knowledge of the classical languages in college which is now usually learnt at school : and what makes a still more important distinction, there was at that period no modern, or, at least, no domestic literature to put in the balance against the productions of Greece and Rome : the great authors of the Elizabethan age, were either un- known or at most but springing into notice: there was nothing, in short, which could divert the attention of the student from his admiration of classical authors — nothing which could limit his reverential submission to their authority and their opinions.
Every fellow of the college (and the same was the case throughout the university) was at that time a tutor, and had un- der his care and guardianship as many pupils as he could secure, either by the influence of the master or private recommendation : it was his duty to prepare these pupils for the public lectures, to control their expenses, and to exercise that individual super- intendence which could not be expected from the public officers of the establishment : they combined, in a certain degree, the respective duties of the public and private tutors of modern times.
514 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge,
An admirer of the philosophical scheme of the London university will rejoice to find, as yet, in this ancient and pro- testant college no notice of religious instruction ; and it must be confessed, that there is some prudence at least in such an ex- clusion of theological lectures, which should be equally addressed to students of every religious denomination, whether Christians, Jews, or Mahommedans, Calvinists, Arminians, or Catholics, Arians, Socinians, or Deists, or professors of any other forms of dissent, of which examples may be found in this great capital ; and not less ingenuity in imagining others which may be equally adapted to tliem all : the legislators, however, of the English universities made no pretences to such liberality, and were certainly incapable of such generalization : they framed statutes for members of the church of England only, and considered the interests of religion as inseparably connected with those of learning. We consequently find throughout these statutes a spirit in every way consonant to this great object : attendance at chapel was required every morn- ing at five, and every afternoon at three ; and in that sacred place lectures were directed to be given on the catechism, common-places to be read on different points of theology, sermons to be preached, and the sacrament to be administered once at least every term, and at all the great church festivals ; and every fellow on admis- sion to his fellowship to be obliged to declare, that he would make theology the object of his studies, and would pursue them on those great principles which are the basis of our Reformation, of pre- ferring the declarations of the scriptures to the authority of tradi- tion, and the word of God to the comments and interpretations of men. If the interests of science have been benefited by the entire abandonment of the course which those statutes prescribed, it would be Avell for the members of those establishments, if in all other respects the pious intentions of their founders and legisla- tors were fulfilled to the very letter.
We have hitherto confined our attention to the lectures and institutions of a single college, without noticing those of the university ; but as far as regarded the purposes of general educa- tion, the public lectures were the same in their nature and object at least, with those which were given in college : they were de- livered by four lecturers, in modern times called Barnaby lec- turers, in the public schools, to classes of students selected by the head lecturers of the several colleges. In the same places were held also the public acts, in which were defended some topic of the Aristotelian philosophy before the assembled students, with all the tactics of disputation which it was the peculiar triumph of that system to teach : these exercises, which were a necessary preparation for all degrees in arts, and which constituted i^ the
Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. 515
opinion of that age a most important department of academical education, were placed under the general controul of the two proctors, and under the immediate regency and direction of mas- ters of arts of less than five years' standing.
The education required for degrees in arts was perfectly general, being such as in that age was considered a necessary basis of all pro- fessional education, which was usually subsequent to it. A student in divinity,indeed, should at all times be furnished not merely with a knowledge of the learned languages, but also of every art which might be necessary for the proper and effective exercise of his reasoning powers ; and a learned education was in that age almost essential both to the lawyer and physician, when the one must have derived his authorities and his knowledge of law from works in languages generally different from his own, and when the other must study the principles of his science in the works of Hippocrates, Galen, and Celsus : the revolutions of knowledge, of science, and of litera- ture have destroyed the importance of much of what our ancestors considered as most valuable ; but it still may admit of a question, whether even in modern times professional education of every kind is not dignified, and the views of professional men refined and amplified by the previous study of the liberal arts.
Professional as well as other degrees were obtained through the medium of public acts, which constituted in those times a most solemn and important ceremony : the respondent was conducted with every circumstance of academical pomp in public procession to the schools which were the scene of his labours ; he there read a thesis or dissertation on one of the topics which he defended, and the disputations were continued during the space of two hours ; the glory of the successful disputant who had vanquished his op- ponents in argument, was of all others that which appears to have been considered the greatest object of academical ambition : and so interesting and so popular were these exhibitions deemed in that age, that they were considered as proper objects for royal enter- tainment, and were witnessed both by Elizabeth and James, at their different visits to the university, with particular delight and satisfaction : it would be difficult to mention a circumstance which exhibits in a more striking light the difference between ancient and modern tastes.
It was the prescribed course of studies, more than their pecu- liar nature, which made Bacon consider the system of education of academical bodies as naturally opposed to the progress of the sciences : in the system which we have described, and through ■which he himself is said to have passed with peculiar distinction, we find every thing fixed and regulated, even to the books which were the subject of the praelections : he therefore might na- turally be considered as a dangerous innovator, who presumed
516 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge.
to alter a system which was sanctioned by the authority, not of time, but of the same statutes which gave them existence ; and every change would be guarded against with jealous vigilance, which might subject their temporal advantages to the dangers either of royal or legal interference : the constitution of these bodies must have appeared to Bacon as fixed and permanent as that of the state itself, and he must have had little reason to an- ticipate an event which was speedily destined to overturn the one and altogether to dissolve the spell of that authority, which threatened to arrest the progress of science in the other. v. lnu. If, however, the studies of the university were of a kmd little calculated to advance the knowledge of nature, they, in some measure, compensated this deficiency by their contributions to literature and theological learning. At no period was the univer- sity more distinguished for the number of her poets, her linguists, and more particularly of those divines who gave such authority to the cause of the reformed religion, by their profound learning, by their solemn and earnest eloquence, by their writings so. remarkable for laborious research and for powerful argument)' Nor was Bacon insensible of the value of her services in thes cause of learning; in many parts of his works he has ex«! pressed his sense of the benefits which he derived from the uni^i^i versity, in the language of the most grateful of her sons | ' he dedicated to her his treatise De Sapientid Veterum, as a tribute of filial love to the nursing mother from whom he had derived not merely learning but philosophy ; and in presenting her and her sister university with copies of the " Novum j Organon," he exhorts them not to be wanting to the advance*"' ment of the sciences, without violating the respect and reverencd<> due to antiquity,or neglecting those arts which it was their peculiaif province to cultivate ; and the following letter, addressed to his own college on a similar occasion, expresses the same sentiment, in terms so solemn, and in a manner so becoming the great and comprehensive character of his mind, that we offer no apology for presenting it to our readers : —
'*]Res omnes ' 6arti*hqtie progressus initiis tuis debentur. Itaque cum initia scientiarum fontibus vestris hauserim, incrementa ipsa- rum vobis reprehenda existimavi. Spero itaque fore, ut haec nostra apud vos, tanquam in solo nativo, felicius succrescant. Quamobrem et vos testor, ut salv^ animi modesti^ et erga veteres reverenti^, ipsi quoque scientiarum augmentis non desitis ; verum et post volumina sacra verbi Dei et scripturarum, secundo loco volumen illud magnum operum Dei et creaturarum strenue et prae omnibus libris (qui prO' qoiiimentariis tan turn haberi debent) evolvatis. Valete. . .,, i.ji.r '
ijf there is any one circumstance in the character' of tfciS ill us*
Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. 517"
trious man which is deserving of more particular admiration, it is his unexampled magnanimity; though the whole object of his. writings had been to substitute a more rational and practical philosophy in the place of that of Aristotle, yet it is always done in language expressive of the deepest reverence to a genius only, second to his own ; there is no indecent triumph in the exposure of the absurdities of the system which he is attempting to overturn, no appearance of that reaction of the mind so common in other writers even of exalted character, by which that which is defective, and erroneous is confounded in one common sentence of condemn- ation with that which is admirable and true : on the contrary, the writings of Bacon are absolutely impregnated with the study ' of Aristotle ; there is no author whom he so frequently quotes, or one whose sentiments, particularly on ethical subjects, he refera to as of higher authority. "•'" "'• '^'^ i- yl'^-j'--- - - -y ' i'^
It is the prevalent injustice of modelii ^tlm^ TO^irohmgn all' ffie works of Aristotle to equal neglect, though his ethical and critical writings are in every way worthy of general study, as abounding in acute and profound observations on life and manners, and literature ; but it seems almost a principle of human nature to depress those writers below their just merits, whom the public opinion of former times has placed too high; thus^'^ exhibiting a species of compensation in the literary and scientific as well as in the moral world, by which the unjust admiration or neglect of our ancestors is corrected by the opposite feelings and conduct of their posterity: the philosophy of Des Cartes suc- ceeded to that of Aristotle, and was conceived to furnish a correct explanation of the true system of the universe ; but the progress of discovery convinced mankind of their error, and the admiration of a former age has been succeeded by the unmerited neglect of the present. Bvit to return to the immediate object of our discussion.
The anticipations of Bacon respecting the Unchangeable charac- ter of academical education were in no respect verified : the influence of his own writings was more rapid and more general than even he could have foreseen, in those quarters where external causes were most opposed to the admission of his principles: there is a power and comprehension of thought and argument in them, which commands the attention of his readers ; and the tone of reverence and respect with which he treats the author of the principles which he combats, was much more calculated to convey conviction to the minds of those whose prejudices were most strongly enlisted in their favour, than the rude expression of contempt, ridicule, and abuse, which were so common in that age. But there were other causes which contributed still more
S18 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge.
effectively to this great and important change ; the agitation of the great rebellion, which commenced at no great interval after the publication of his writings, disturbed the uniform and quiet course in which the universities had hitherto moved ; their re- venues were sequestered, their members dispersed, their chapels desecrated, their statutes violated, and the disputations on scholastic philosophy were supplanted by dissensions incom- parably more important, in which the passions were much more deeply interested and Avhich involved the existence of our civil constitution both in church and state : the Puritans were little disposed to treat with respect institutions connected with the promotion of profane or even theological learning; and the authority of Aristotle, founded on the concurrent testimony of so many ages, was crushed at once under the rude grasp of those bold and uncompromising reformers. p
At the Restoration, however, we find all the old institutions renewed, the expelled members replaced, and the statutes restored to their former authority ; but though it was easy to undo the external changes which the universities had un- dergone, it was beyond the reach of temporal power to re- store the minds and opinions of men to the times which preceded the convulsions of the monarchy. The physics of Aristotle had yielded to the philosophy of Des Cartes, and Wallis, and Huygens, and Pascal, and Wren, and Barrow, were engaged, not merely in the extensiou and cultivation of mathe-« matical analysis, but likewise in the application of the principles of the Baconian philosophy to the investigation of the laAvs of nature, and there remained hardly a vestige of those studies in the university, the change or abandonment of which appeared to Bacon so little likely to happen.
It is easy to trace the more important changes which took place in our academical system after that time. In 1663, the year in which Newton was admitted a member of the university, Barrow was appointed the first Lucasian professor of mathematics ; and the lectures which he gave in that capacity, on Geometry and Optics, have been justly celebrated. He resigned his chair in 1669 to Newton, who was at that time only a bachelor of arts, but who had already made those discoveries in analysis which changed the whole face of mathematical science. In 1673 he had completed his optical discoveries, and had written his work on Optics, the most perfect example of the application of the principles of the inductive philosophy. From 1676 to 1686 he was engaged in the composition of his Principia, which may justly be pronounced the most subhme production of the human understanding, and which advanced mechanical philosophy aftd. phy?ic«d astronomy,
Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge, 519
at one step, from their infancy to their maturity. In 1696 he quitted the university, where he had resided for more than thirty years, and never afterwards made any important additions to his discoveries In 1699 he appointed Whiston his deputy in the Lucasian professorship, who became his successor in 1702 ; and in 1707, Cotes, the most illustrious of his pupils, was appointed the first Plumian professor of astronomy and natural philosophy.
We shall stop our narrative at this point, when the principles of the NcAvtonian philosophy might be considered as firmly established, for the purpose of noticing a most extraordinary mis- representation of the late Professor Playfair, an admirable answer to which is given in one of the later numbers of the Museum Criticum, or Cambridge Classical Researches. It is stated in his " Dissertation on the History of the Mathematical and Physical Sciences," which accompanies the supplement to the Encyclo- paidia Britannica, that the Cartesian system kept its ground for more than thirty years after the publication of the Principia ; and that the Newtonian {)hilosophy entered the university under its protection, in consequence of the publication of a translation of Rohault's Physics with notes by Clarke in 1718. The purport of the notes, which contain an exposition of Newton's discoveries, probably escaping the notice of the " learned doctors," who had the chief direction of academical education. He proceeds to add in a note, that the universities of St. Andrew and Aberdeen, were the first in Britain where the Newtonian philosophy was made the subject of academical praelections.
It seems to have been the peculiar misfortune of this very able and agreeable writer, to have spent his life in the defence and propagation of error. He wrote eloquent books on the Huttonian theory, in express defence of those very hypotheses which he lived himself to see abandoned by the rest of its advocates. He vindi- cated the antiquity of Hindoo astronomy, until the unanswerable arguments of Delambra compelled him to read his recantation ; and the assertion which we are now considering is one of those instances where his prejudices against the system and studies of the English universities has led him into a most disgraceful mistatement : but we shall now consider his proofs. The first and principal of them is derived from an expression in Whiston's Memoirs of his own life, where he says that David Gregory was inculcating the Newtonian hypothesis at Edinburgh, while they («♦ poor wretches") at Cambridge, were studying the Cartesian. In the same page, however, he states that after his return to Cam- bridge, from his living of Lovestoft, in 1694, he set himself to the study of Sir Isaac Newton's wonderful discoveries in his Philo- sophise Naturalis Principia Mathematica, one or two of which
520 t , Ancient Pursuits of Cambridqe. , .^
/■o rsfji. ij- iiy *' '' iipT^it vino '^nt
lectures I heard him read in the public schools though I under- stood them not at all at that time. Whiston had been absent for some time from the university, and it is therefore certain that the lectures to which he refers were either before, or soon after the publication of the Principia itself If the question of the priority of academical prselections on this philosophy was to be decided, even upon the very authority to which he refers, the evidence is decisive against the truth of his assertion. But there are other points in Whiston' s own statement which it is worth while to con- sider a little more at large. His memoirs were written late in life, after his expulsion from the university for his religious opinions ; and every passage which relates to his residence in Cambridge, appears written under those feelings of irritation and resentment, which such a circumstance was likely to occasion. His book is in consequence full of vague and exaggerated statements, such as might be expected from a disappointed man, who was equally dissatisfied with himself and with others. It is not unlikely, there- fore, that this may be one of the number, a supposition which becomes more probable, if we consider that his absence from the university must have rendered him unobservant or ignorant of the changes which had taken place in the interval. But even granting its truth, it can hardly be considered as conveying any serious reproach to the university ; the Principia was a sealed book at the period of its publication : the principles of fluxions, which are extensively used in the investigation and invention of many of the propositions, were only known to the author, and the meagre sketch of the differential calculus which Leibnitz had published three years before, could hardly be considered as furnishing any assist- ance in its study. The conclusions which it contained also were so new, and so different from those in previous philosophical systems, that it might naturally require some time to accustom the eye to the blaze of this new and dazzling light ; and even scepti- cism, to a certain extent, might be excused amongst men who had no means of judging of the truth of the demonstrations upon which these great truths were founded. They did not resist, but yielded to public opinion ; for the modest and retired habits of the great author himself were not calculated to make proselytes ; and he never appears to have felt the ambition of securing general ac- quiescence in the principles of his philosophy, either by a popu- lar exposition of them, or even by reducing the more simple and elementary of his propositions to a form which was readily acces- sible to persons possessed of the ordinary mathematical knowledge of that age.
There was no one who was capable of fully understanding the Principia at the period of its publication except its author ; and
Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. 521
the only persons in Great Britain to whom the great and general truths which it contained were at that time accessible, were Halley, Wallis, and David Gregory ; and the explanation of the lunar theory and irregularities, which are given by the last of them in his astronomy, at a subsequent period, showed how imperfectly he entered into the spirit of the demonstrations of the propositions which he borrows.
Newton appears to have communicated his manuscripts to Whiston, his deputy and successor, and subsequently to Cotes, who became zealous propagators of his philosophy ; in 1707, Whiston published his Prcelectiones Astronomi<B, and in 1710, Prtslectiones Physico-Mathematica, Cantabrigice in Scholis Publicis hahit(C, quibus Philosophia Illustrissimi Newtoni Mathematica explicatius traditur et facilius demonstratur. In 1707, Sander* son, with the permission of Whiston himself, gave a course of lectures " on the Principia, Optics, and Arithmetica Universalis^ of Newton," which are said to have enjoyed uncommon popu-< larity : and in 1711 he succeeded to Whiston in the professorship ; and so common and so popular was the study of the work become, that copies of the Principia were then extremely! scarce and dear, a circumstance which led to its republicatioii at Cambridge, with considerable additions, under the superin-i tendence of Cotes, who prefixed to it a preface written with uncommon elegance, who examined and corrected all the demonstrations, recalculated the numerical results, and who may be considered as the first person who had completely studied and mastered its contents.
The statement which we have given shows that the New- tonian philosophy was studied at Cambridge with uncommon activity, within ten years of the first publication of the Prin- cipia ; and many circumstances might be mentioned, which would show that the study of it was becoming general as early as 1694 : about that year, the celebrated Samuel Clarke, a friend and protege of Newton, defended a question taken from the Principia in the public schools, a proceeding which must have met with the approbation of the moderator who presided on that occasion. Dr. Laughton, a zealous Newtonian, had been tutor of Clare Hall from 1694 to 1710, and his college was crowded with students, attracted by the popularity of his lectures, and his exertions in favour of the new philosophy : even the statement of Whiston himself is a proof that exertions were making at that early date, to study the new principles, by those persons at least who were capable from their previous kuowrr ledge of understanding them. n, ii i?
There is no doubt whatever but the Cartesian philosophy wis generally admitted in the uuivecsity before the publication of
622 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. ' '
the Principia : and the text book which was commonly used, was the Physics of Rohault, which had been translated into Latin from the French. This work contained an exposition, chiefly popular, of physical science, both optical, mechanical, astronomical, and anatomical, under a very compact and elegant form, in which one chapter only was devoted to the theory of the Cartesian vortices ; and the general utility of such a work on subjects so various, was not altogether superseded, even by the publication of the Principia, particularly if accompanied with notes, which might correct those parts which the conclusions of that work had shown to be erroneous. It was, with this view, that in 1697 Clarke published a new and better translation of it, which he dedicated to his patron, Bishop Moor, with the addition of notes, ex- planatory of some of Newton's discoveries on physical optics, and the elements of the theory of universal gravitation : other additions were made in subsequent editions, the fourth and most .jcomplete of which was published in 1718.
(J It is very natural to suppose that a work of this kind would be popular and extensively read, when it contained the first ex- planation of the new philosophy, which from its simple form was accessible to the generality of readers ; and no person who has read Clarke's preface and notes, can suspect him of the waggish design which Playfair so gratuitously attributes to him, of entrapping the assent of his readers to principles different from those which he proposed in the outset to teach : the additions which he intended to make from the Principia, are mentioned plainly in the title-page ; there is no assumed or feigned assent to the principles of his author, at the same time that he is suggesting others which are intended to overturn them ; there is nothing, in short, which resembles the artifice employed by Galileo, who, when proposing to write, under the terrors of the inquisition, against the Copernican system of the Avorld, made the worse appear the better reason ; on the contrary, it is most probable that these notes contained nearly all that he knew of the mathematical part of the Principia ; he was a zealous and sincere advocate of the Newtonian philosophy, but he does not appear to have possessed the mathematical knowledge which was requisite for a profound study of the work which contained it; he was at that time merely a bachelor of arts, and consequently very young, and during the whole of his subsequent life he appears to have devoted himself to his religious duties, and to those metaphysical and theological studies, which exercised such a marked influence on the speculations and opinions of Newton himself.
The preceding statement will show at once the rashness and absurdity of Playfair' s opinions respecting the period at which the Newtonian philosophy was generally admitted in the uni-
Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge. 623
versity of Cambridge ; he assigns motives to the author of a book which he had evidently never seen, makes a mistake of twenty- one years in the date of its pubUcation, and in the very face of documents to which he himself is referring, from thence infers that this philosophy was unknown or unacknowledged during thirty years in the very spot which gave it birth, where the most zealous and most able of his friends and disciples were labouring both by their writing and teaching to make it generally understood. It is impossible to refer to a more melancholy example of the influence of prejudice, where our author professing to give a critical and philosophical history of the progress of the physical sciences, goes out of his way to calumniate a great public body, at the very moment that his statements are contradicted in the most distinct manner, even by the very authors to whom he refers for authority.
-^ The mistatements of professor Playfair are referred to with approbation in the second part of the dissertation on the history of the moral and metaphysical sciences, by Dugald Stewart, which is attached to the same work ; and a similar feeling has, on another occasion, suggested to this very distinguished author one of the most laboured and brilliant of his comparisons : without attempting to controvert the general truth of the opinions which are there expressed, we shall content ourselves with asking, with what justice it can be asserted of the university of Cam- bridge, that she has not kept pace with the progress of know- ledge ? so far even from receiving the impression of science and philosophy from the rest of the world, it was herself Avho gave the impulse, and from her womb the great discoveries which constitute the scientific glory of our country may be said to have sprung : even Wallis, who contributed so greatly to the progress of analysis, was originally a fellow of a college in Cambridge before he was transferred to Oxford ; it was there that Barrow, Cotes, and Smith, and Sanderson lived and died ; it was there that Newton made all his discoveries : it was there also that Clarke, and Whiston, and Bishop Taylor, studied and taught ; and with the exception of Halley and the two Gregories, and afterwards Maclaurin, it is difficult to mention a native name in any way connected with the progress of analysis and the mechanical philosophy, which is not likewise connected with Cambridge ; it is unnecessary for us to add one word more, to show how dangerous it is to make general assertions, however apparently they may be founded upon the most philosophical views of human nature, which are not confirmed by experience and historical truth.
It is not our intention to attempt to trace the history of
524 Ancient Pursuits of Cambridge.
the scientific pursuits of Cambridge beyond this period : the reigns of the first two Georges, were the dark ages of our litera- ture, our science, our arts, and our architecture, and the uni- versity partook of the torpor which prevailed throughout the rest of the country. Various circumstances contributed to pro- duce this effect. The change of manners had begun to destroy the ancient system of chumming, and a revolution was thus effected, both in academical habits and discipline : the conse- quent increase in the expenses of education produced a great de- crease in the number of students ; and the minds of men also were occupied with the hopes and fears of political parties ; and the avow- ed preference of interest to merit in the distribution of preferments, both in church and state, had materially weakened the most powerful stimulus to literary exertion. The same corruption, also, which pervaded the administration of the state had extended to the universities : the high principle of honour which noAV exists in the conduct of the examinations and elections, and which public opinion and public scrutiny conduce to maintain, was altogether unknown : the public lectures were neglected, and had become useless sinecures : add to all which causes, that the largest and most distinguished of the colleges was almost deserted during sixty years, chiefly by the misgovernment of the celebrated Bent- ley, his quarrels with his fellows, and the disorganization by which they were followed ; and some idea may be formed of the thorough degradation of the university, both in her studies and character, when, half a centuiy ago, that system of internal reform began, which by successive steps has led to its present state of unexampled activity.
It had been our intention to have added some observations upon two circumstances which have had a most unfavourable effect upon the progress of the mathematical sciences in this country : the first is our too exclusive study of the Principia of Newton, and our attending as much to the form as to the subtance of the demon- strations of the propositions which it contains ; and the second, our almost national dislike of the foreign analysis. Both these topics, however, though of great interest, are so intimately con- nected with the present scientific studies at Cambridge, which we intend shortly to bring before the notice of our readers, that we shall reserve the discussion of them for that occasion. The ob- servations which we have made are sufficient to show that the university of Cambridge has contributed more than its just por- tion to the scientific character of our country in former times ; our object hereafter will be to satisfy our readers that its present institutions are in every way calculated, not merely to maintain, but greatly to add to its ancient reputation.
Yeitch's Memoirs. _ ^ v. « 525
Art. XV. — Memoirs of Mr. William Veitchand George Brysson, ivritten by themselves ; with other narratives illustrative of the History of Scotland, from the Restoration to the Revolution : to which are added Biographical Sketches and Notes. By Thomas M'Crie, D. D. Cadell, 1825.
Various attempts have been made, of late, to engage the sympathy of the public in favour of those individuals who, in Scotland, pro- voked the wrath of the government during the reigns of Charles the Second and of James his brother. Histories have been com- piled, and romances have been written, in order to excite the indignation of mankind against the policy which, at that period, was pursued both by Church and State ; and at the same time to obtain belief for the opinion, which has recently gained ground, that the Presbyterians in the north were a mild, pious, liberal, and tolerating people, while the rulers of the land, both lay and clerical, were actuated by the most ferocious and diabolical spirit that ever took y)ossession of men invested with power.
Till within these few years the character of the Scottish Coven « anters was better understood, and the public feeling, in regard td^ them, was much more accurate and enlightened. They Avere pro**, nounced, by every one who had examined into their history with impartiality, to have been ignorant, fanatical, intolerant, self- willed, and overbearing; faults which were only compensated by a firm adherence to certain dangerous tenets which they had been taught to mistake for gospel truth, and by steadfastness in suffering the penalties which their rebellious conduct, from time to time, drew down upon their heads. It was universally allowed, that their princi])les and views were incompatible with the existence of all regular government ; it being a leading maxim amongst them, that it was equally sinful to grant or to accept of toleration in matters of religion; and, consequently, that all who did not join with them in holding, and in acting upon this fundamental doc- trine exposed themselves to excommunication from the privileges and hopes of Christianity, as well as to a denial of all the benefits connected with civil society. They had, in effect, adopted the extravagant notion of the Anabaptists, and Fifth Monarchy-men, that all power, spiritual and temporal, was placed in the hands of the saints ; and that none but such as felt themselves moved by a supernatural influence to espouse the cause of heaven were entitled to exercise any species of authority upon earth.
The genius of the present age has, in various ways, manifested a strong tendency towards unbounded and unconditional freedom in all the concerns which occupy the attention or awaken the pas-
A'OL. I. 2 N
526 Veiich's Memoirs.
sions of the multitude ; and the persons who are most desirous to encourage this disposition, or to derive profit from it, have shown an uncommon degree of zeal in representing in the darkest colours the evils of despotism, and the odious features of tyranni- cal government. But in performing this patriotic service to their contemporaries, they have neglected to do justice to the men and measures to which their strictures apply. They make no allow- ance for the veiy different standard of liberty, and rules of govern- ing, which in those days were every where established. Nor are they, in all cases, sulBiciently observant of historical truth to state events as they actually took place ; for, provided they can load episcopacy with the charge of intolerance, and monarchical authority with the imputation of tyranny and injustice, they have gained the main object which had suggested their labours.
To the spirit and purposes now described, we may, without any breach of charity, attribute the publication of the work now before us. It consists of four separate tracts, written by individuals who severally performed a leading part in the rebellious movements which disturbed the reigns of the two last members of the Stuart family ; for, besides the Memoirs mentioned in the title page, there is Colonel Wallace's " Narrative of the Rising at Pentland, and also lire's " Narrative of the Rising at Bothwell Bridge." As the history of Veitch aifords a fair specimen of the sort of men by whom the government and episcopacy were opposed, we may be excused for giving the following outline of his opinions and practices.
Mr. William Veitch was a preacher, residing somewhere in the west of Scotland about the period of the Restoration. His first sendee under the flag of rebellion was performed at Dumfries, "where the Covenanters surprised Sir James Turner, the comman- der of the King's forces in that quarter. The warlike priest next proceeded at the head of forty or fifty mounted rebels to the town of Ayr, in which place he compelled the magistrates to grant billets for quartering seven or eight hundred horse and foot. En- couraged by their success in the west, the insurgents advanced towards Edinburgh, where they hoped to be joined by a great body of friends, and to be enabled to make more extended pre- parations for striking a sure and final blow at the civil and eccle- siastical constitution of their country. Having approached within a few miles of the city without receiving any positive intelligence either in regard to the plans of their confederates, or the amount and disposition of the royal army, the whig leaders proposed to select from their ranks a trusty spy, or envoy, who should be directed to make an attempt to pass the enemy's lines, to obtain an interview with some of their principal adherents within the walls,
Veitch's Memoirs. 627
arid to bring back such information as might guide their future proceedings. Veitch was chosen, by acclamation, for this hazard- ous service. His courage at first seemed to falter ; but, finding that honour and principle were at stake, he at length complied, and forthwith prepared his conscience to encounter the vigilance of the malignants, with his usual resources of prevarication and falsehood. He " sends for his man, orders him to bring his bag- gage horse, an old hat, and an old cloak ; puts all off him that might give suspicion to any that should search him, as sword, pistols, &c., and rides straight from Collington to Bigger way ; that if any should meet him going into town, he might say he came from Bigger. Mr. Andrew M'Cormick, (called afterwards the Good- man of the whigs,) a minister in Ireland, a man of good years, and judicious, conveyed him from Collington, talking to him of several things necessary to be minded when he came to James Stuart." This latter person, we may remark, who was then chief counsellor to the rebels, rose, in the reign of William and Mary, to the rank of Lord Advocate, and enjoyed the smiles of the new government.
Veitch was taken prisoner at the barrier, and sent to Lord King- ston, who commanded the main guard. While his lordship was eiCamining him, " an alarm arises that the whigs were all at hand ! he crying, to stand to their arms, the prisoner says, * My lord, if you have any arms to give me, I'll venture against these whigs in the first rank.' To which he replied, • Thou art an honest fellow ; and if there be any arms here, let him have some.' But the noise being quashed, the prisoner says, ' Now, what will your lordship do with me?' Says he, ' If 1 thought all you had spoken were true, I would let you go ; but I doubt of it.' * Then,' says he, ' my lord, if you will grant me one favour, I shall easily clear you ; and that is, if you will send one with me to the Dean of Edinburgh's house, I shall bring a line from him to satisfy and clear your lord- ship in this matter.' ' O, says he, that is my friend, to whom I have as great respect as to any; but, no doubt, he and all his friends are fled to the castle for safety ; but, seeing you are a friend of his, I let you go.' "
The belligerent preacher, it appears, thought it no harm to tell athousand lies, in order to se^e his friends and deceive his enemies. On this occasion, however, he was liberated at a very critical moment ; for while his lordship was yet speaking to him about his acquaintance (the Dean of Edinburgh) behold ! another godly minister appears as a prisoner, under the charge of two soldiers. " Here," says Veitch, " was a remarkable delivery ; for, no doubt," Mr. M'Kell would have owned me instantly and innocently; so' we should have died together."
2 n2
528 Veitch's Memoirs.
■■" ■-!.■■: .,^.u-.j. K
■ Finding he could do no good as a spy, he resolves to join the camp of the western forces, as he thinks proper to denominate his brethren in arms ; and upon leaving town, finds them already oh their march to thePentland-hills, where they were, in the afternoon of the same day, brought to an engagement. He observed them from a distance marshalling their main body on the middle of the rising ground, and placing a select body of horse at the top. " It was about twelve of the clock, the 28th day of November, 1666 ; it having been snow and frost the night before, the day was pretty clear and sunshine. General Dalziel's coming from Currie through the hills, of which they got notice, was the occasion of the taking of themselves to that strength ; and within half an hour after, a select party of Dalziel's forces, commanded by Major Drummond, fell upon their select party that was upon the top of the hill. Drummond and his party were instantly beat back, to the great confusion and consternation of the army ; and Drummond himself aftenvards acknowledged to the Rev. Mr. Kirkton, that if the whigs had pursued their first assault, wherein they beat him back, they had utterly ruined Dalziel's forces." — " The last rencounter was at daylight going, when the enemy's foot, being flanked with their horse on each side, firing upon the whigs broke their ranks, their horses not being used with fire : then the troops upon the right wing of the enemy broke in upon them, and pursued them ; and had taken and killed many of them if the night had not prevented them." " Mr. Veitch falling in among a whole troop of the enemy, they turned his horse violently in the dark, and carried him along with them, not knowing but that he was one of their own ; but as they fell down the hill in pursuit of the enemy, he held upward till he got to the outside of them ; and the moon rising clear, which made him fear he would presently be discovered, he saw no other way of escape but to venture up the hill, which he did, being well mounted ; which, when the enemy perceived, they cried out, ' Ho ! this is one of the rogues that has commanded them.' Se- veral pursued him up the hill, and shot at him sundry times, but their horses sunk, and were not able to ascend the hill, so that he escaped."
We have given these particulars chiefly on occount of an assertion made afterwards by Veitch, on a very solemn occasion, that he was not present at the battle of Pentland-hills ! It is somewhat curious, too, as illustrative of the pure, sincere, and upright cha- racter of this persecuted Covenanter, that the good horse, to whose strength and activity he owed his life when detected by the dra- goons, was stolen from Lord Loudon — a theft which is justified on the very ambiguous ground, that his lordship had warned all his tenants not to join the insurrection! ^ , .,; ,,. ;. ; , ; -^
Veitch's Memoirs. 529
^ After the defeat of the rebels at Pentland, Mr. Veitch fled into Northumberland, where he passed several years in good repute, preaching, as opportunities occurred, in retired places, woods, and moors, to his fugitive countrymen, and a small body of dis- senters. At length, in 1681, when the Earl of Argyle made his escape from the castle of Edinburgh, he was induced to accompany his lordship to London, and frequently to Holland, where the fatal expedition, under Monmouth, was concerted, under the joint auspices of a few plotting ministers, of some fanatical women, and of two weak, factious, disappointed noblemen.
Mr. Veitch's memoir throws some light on the history of the Ryehouse plot, in the i;neasures connected with which he figures under the name of Captain Forbes, while the earl, his companion, uses the nom de (juerre of Mr. Hope. It ought to be mentioned ^n the first place, however, that the two Caledonians got them- ^ielves introduced to " an old honest Oliverian captain, named Lockyer," one of Colonel Blood's accomplices, who carried them to ihe house of a sugar-baker, at Battersea, a Mr. Smith, " whose wife was a very pious, wise, and generous gentlewoman. They wefe rich, and had no children." This lady, through the agency 91* a Major Holmes, procured for the travellers apartments in the c^ty, where, as if by mere accident, they soon attracted the society of my Lord Shaftesbury, the Earl of Granard, and other persons jOl* distinction.
" After the hurry was over. Madam Smith brought out Mr. Hope (Argyle), and Mr. Veitch with him, to stay at their new house at Brentford, seven miles off the city ; and not long after, several nobility, gentry, and rich merchants, some in the city of London and some elsewhere, began to meet secretly, to see if they could fall upon any measures to prevent these nations, and the church of Christ therein, from sinking into popery and slavery ; but all to little purpose, for it ended in that discovery that they called Monmouth's plot (the Ryehouse plot), when several gentle- men of Scotland, and Mr. William Carstairs (a minister) were taken in London, and brought down to Edinburgh prisoners. Mr. Hope kept himself retired still from all these meetings, yet he knew their measures, and they wanted not his advice." Speaking of Lord Granard, Veitch remarks, that Argyle and his lordship had only three meetings at the Dolphin, in Lombard-street, " though in the interim Captain Forbes himself went betwixt them with several messages, and was much caressed by the earl to go along with him to Ireland, and he would prefer him to as profitable and honourable a post as possible ; for which the captain heartily thanked his lordship, but told him that in good manners he could not leave the Earl of Argyle." " At the second and last congress
530 Veitch's Memolt^
which they had at the same place, they concluded to join with the Duke of Monmouth, and the honest nobility, gentry, and commons of England, that should appear for the rrotestant interest, &c.; Argyle heading the cause in Scotland, and the Earl of Granard in Ireland ; and that he should, Avhenever Argyle appeared in the west of Scotland, send over out of Ireland five thousand trained soldiers to assist Argyle. Upon which Captain Forbes did see the two earls pass their parole, and change their walking- canes upon that head. But when the time came nothing of this was performed, and what was the obstruction he knows not."
My Lord Argyle, finding that their plans could neither be executed nor concealed, passed over to Holland ; upon which Madam Smith, who was privy to the ultimate designs of the party, prevailed upon her husband to remove to the same country, in order that she might be at hand to assist, with her purse and counsel, the partisans of Monmouth. Veitch soon found it ne- cessary to follow his confederates ; and when he arrived at Utrecht, he had the satisfaction to meet the infatuated son of Charles the Second, " Argyle, Earl of Melvil, Lord Polwarth, Torwoodlie, James Stuart, and many others, wh^did, by the instigation of friends from both nations, not only before but especially after the death of the King, contrive Monmouth's coming to England, and Argyle's to Scotland, to oppose King James's carrying on his malicious designs of bringing the nations back again to the see of Rome. Both of them had great promises sent them of assistance, but it turned to nothing, as the public history tells. And no wonder, for the one part kept not their promises, and the other parties followed not the measures contrived and executed at Amsterdam ; to which meeting Mr. Veitch, without much persuasion, brought old President Stairs ; and it cost him, giving in bond for 1000/. sterling to Madam Smith, who lent out 6000i!. or 7000Z. more, her husband being now dead, to my Lord Argyle and others, for the better carrying on that enterprise. Monmouth sent several of his friends, incognito, to several places in England, to warn them to make ready ; and Argyle sent Torwoodlie to Murrayland to prepare them, and Mr. Veitch to Northumberland and the Scotch borders, to give notice. He had also a verbal commission, and a token for showing the verity of his commission from my Lord Gray to his chief steward in Northumberland, to instigate him to raise what forces of horse and foot he could upon his charges, that they might be ready to appear when they heard of Monmouth's landing in the south. Mr. Veitch also had a verbal commission from Argyle to procure money for buying of arms, colours, drums, horses, and taking on men, especially old Oliverian officers, some- what of all which he did ; and through his too much travelling
Veitch's Memoirs. 631
through the country, and the zeal of several in many places to rise, the matter was like to take wind, so that he was forced to retire up to the mountains in the borders, near Reedsdale, and hide himself from his very friends until the season of appearing came."
We have only farther to state in regard to Veitch, that he sur- vived the revolution, that he was appointed minister first of Peebles, and afterwards of Dumfries, and that he died at the latter town in 1722, having entered the eighty-third year of his age.
The history of Veitch, we have already said, is the history of many Presbyterian ministers of the time in which he lived. Their views, in most of the public transactions in which they had a share, were political rather than religious ; whence it follows, that such of them as lost their lives in the field or on the scaffold, died as conspirators against the civil government of the country, rather than as martyrs for a particular system of religious belief and wor- ship. To illustrate the position now made is the main object of this article.
But before we proceed to adduce facts in support of this state- ment, we take the liberty of remarking, that much of the evil which at the period in question afflicted Scotland and the church, arose from the insincere and selfish conduct of the Earl of Laud- erdale, and of those other noblemen who administered the govern- ment in that country, in the name of the King. Lauderdale was a Presbyterian by profession, and an unbeliever in reality: he disliked the hierarchy, though he found it expedient to solicit the countenance and approbation of the leading bishops : and he enacted severe laws against the Covenanters, while in secret he encouraged their pretensions and connived at their excesses. Sir George M'Kenzie, in his " Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland," informs us for example, that the earl "did in this parliament (1663) assert episcopacy in a long, forrnal speech, whereof he transmitted a full copy to his majesty ; and thus in public he cajoled the episcopal party, whilst in parliament (private ?) he favoured and encouraged the Presbyterian." Sir George adds, that " to please the king, who still retained some kindness for episcopacy, and take off all jealousies from such as favoured that order, Lauderdale did, in all his discourses, speak with much re- spect of the reverend archbishops and bishops ; and upon St. Andrew's day, he passed two acts in their favour ; one to make the parishes liable for the insolencies committed against ministers, and the other containing severe certifications against such as paid not bishops' duties and ministers' stipends. But all this outward zeal for episcopacy could never prevail with the bishops to believe Lauderdale their fi-iend ; nor were the leading Presbyterians terri- fied at these as marks of his disesteem ; because fanatics were
532 Veitch's Memoirs.
advanced to all places of trust, and the friends and servants of ike grandees (who could not dissemble so well as their masters) laughed at episcopacy and the malignant party : nor is there any surer mark to know the master's inclinations, than by considering whom he employs, and Avhat these speak." In reference to ano- ther act, the same author observes, that " these fanatics wronged their country, not only in breaking the good old laws, but in occasioning the making of too severe new statvites : and yet it was said by some, that it had been better to have made the new Jaws less severe, that they might have been the more seriously observed ; and that these laws were made so severe, upon design, that they might not be observed ; and that the fanatics might clearly see the grandees were not in earnest."
Nor was this dishonest policy confined to the enactment of laws. It was followed, likewise, in the nomination of officers ap- pointed to command the troops employed against the insurgents. " Immediately after Lauderdale went to London, the fanatics began to preach openly everywhere ; and one Master Welsh, grandchild to the famovis Master Welsh who had been banished, did keep field conventicles in Fife, drawing at first the rabble, but at last even the gentry to follow him. He was a person of much courage, but no parts," &c. The gentry of Fife were fined for having been at these field conventicles, and forces were raised to prevent future disturbances ; over whom Sir George Monro was made General, to the astonishment of every one who knew his principles *
In a word, the king was deceived and the church was betrayed by the unprincipled men to whom was intrusted the management of affairs in the north. Even the preferment heaped upon the more learned or the mor? active among the churchmen, was given with an insidious design. They were made judges and members of the privy council, that they might be tempted to stain their hands and sully their reputations, by taking a share in the arbitrary and sometimes cruel measures which were adopted against the Covenanters. The poor enthusiastic followers of Cameron and Cargill were irritated and pursued, but not suppressed ; and the church, which was clothed with the sanction of a legal establish- ment, and enjoyed the approbation of nearly all the Avell-in formed and influential portion of the community, was lauded in speeches by the royal commissioner, Avhile it had to encounter the secret opposition of an intriguing, heartless, and sceptical statesman, whose prejudices and personal animosities made him labour for j_ — ____ — ^ .
»!- * Sec Sir George Mackenzie's Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland, &c. pp. 132. 163.159.220. ).',.i|fcv^
Veitch's Memoirs. 533
-its ■ overthrow. To effect this purpose, such steps were accord-
.1 ingly taken as were calculated, at once, to enrage the Covenanters and to feed their hopes ; cutting off, from time to time, the more turbulent and vmmanageable of their number, and cherishing, as a powerful reserve, the leaders of the party.
To those who are desirous of obtaining information, in regard to the principles which actuated the cabinet of Charles the Second in the government of Scotland, we recommend a careful perusal of a tract by the able writer from whom we have already made several quotations, and which is to be found in a " Collection of his Works," published, in two folio volumes, at Edinburgh, in the years 1716 and 1722. Sir George, who, in the discharge of his office as Lord Advocate from the year 1677 till 1686, had the best opportunities for ascertaining the most material facts in the state prosecutions, declares in the words which we have already used, that the object of government, in all their judicial proceeding!^, was not vindictive punishment, but precaution against treasonable combinations ; and that no man in Scotland suffered for his re-
.ligion when unconnected with murder and rebellion.
' The laws against conventicles were no doubt severe, and as they were, generally speaking, directed against ignorant fanatical peasants, who had been seduced into acts of rebellion by a mis- taken sense of religious duty, the wisdom of the government is not less questionable than its humanity. But it ought to be re- membered, that in the enactment of penal statutes, the Scottish administration only followed the example of all other nations at the same period. The Presbyterians and Independents in New England disgraced the ascendancy which they had obtained in that remote colony, by the enforcement of regulations still more intolerant and oppressive, than those which were sanctioned by the policy of Middleton and Lauderdale. Besides, as Sir George Mackenzie informs us, not one in a thbilsand of the sentences passed upon the Covenanters were put in execution. *' The court (of justice,) likewise, was so very favourable tp these criminals, that they did ordinarily name those of their ownS)rofession, Pres- byterians, to pass upon their jury, and sent ministers of their own persuasion to reclaim them ; and these jurors and ministers seldom failed to condemn them as much as the judges did."
The government of Charles the Second, too, was the first that allowed accused persons to summon witnesses against the crown. Some of these exculpatory evidences, we are also assured, took great liberties with truth and conscience. For example, they de- clared that " though they saw a person very like the pannel, or party accused, yet they could not depose it was he, because it might have been a vision; albeit, at the same time they had known
534 Veitch's Memoirs.
him very well, and though they had talked with him at that time in arms, at the distance of ten or twelve paces for half an hour together : and, at other times, they did positively refuse to depone that they saw him have a sword, though they owned that they saw the hilt and scabbard."
The more revolting severities, too, exercised upon the Cove- nanters were occasioned by the frequent murders which that class of men perpetrated upon soldiers and others employed in the public service, wheresoever they could accomplish their bloody intentions, without exposing themselves to immediate reprisals. Law, in his " Memorials," mentions one instance of this species of barbarity, which may serve to illustrate the ferocious temper which, at that period, prevailed among the infatuated people : — *' After this fight (Bothwell) there was a dragooner that, passing by beside Lanerick, calls to an house of his acquaintance, and the wife of the hous coming out in a shew of kyndness, takes him in her amies and desyres him to alight. Meanwhile, when he is lighting, her husband comes out and draws out his own sword, and kills him dead, ripped him up, takes out his heart, and setts it on a poll, in recompence of what was done to Cameron ; for the king's partie had carried in his head to Edinburgh on a pole."
Such treacherous conduct rendered the military not less sus- J)icious than cruel ; and that there was ample occasion for all the precautions which officers and men were enjoined to adopt, may be proved by a reference to the dangerous and most fanatical spirit which led to the murder of Archbishop Sharp. Having placed themselves beyond the protection of law, the Covenanters deter- mined to execute justice, as they called it, upon all by whom they were oppressed, as the Lord should give them opportunity. — " Whereupon," says one of the actors in that miserable tragedy, " we who were present, and whose souls were fired with zeal for God's glory, resolved, with Phineas, to execute justice on those who had thus lifted up their hands against God's people, wherever they might be found ; and to place ourselves in the room and authority of the avenger of blood for our innocent brethren, who were destroyed and cruelly massacred for the cause of God and the testimony of a good conscience. In this our zeal, and fortified with such considerations as these, five men of our number, arming ourselves, placed ourselves in ambush, with design to execute God's justice upon the laird of — ■ — , a cruel and bloody per- secutor of God's people. This was our intent, neither had we, at that time, any thought or expectation of any other, when we were surprised with an account from one of our number, who was at a distance, that the arch-enemy of God and his people, the prelate of St. Andrew's, was passing on the road in his coach.
Veitch's Memoirs. 535
It was immediately suggested to us, that albeit we had missed of the man who we sought for : yet God had, by a wonderful provi* dence, delivered the great and capital enemy of the church into our hands ; and that it was a visible call to us from heaven not to let him escape — and that now was the time when that Scripture was to be executed by them, — he who spilleth man's blood by man shall his blood be spilt." They were encouraged not only to believe, that God had delivered him up into their hands ; but that, if they let him escape, it should be required of them and of their brethren, as in the case of King Ahab, 1 Kings, xx. 42.— " Because thou hast let go out of thy hand a man whom I ap pointed to utter destruction ; therefore thy life shall go for his life, and thy people for his people." " Having resolved," as is said, " that this enemy should not escape the judgment of God by our hands, we rode after him, and coming up to the coach, quickly stopped the same, and disarming his servants gave him notice of our resolutions, letting him know his offences ; and in serious terms exhorting him to give glory to God by confessing his guilt, and that he would repent heartily for the wickedness of his ways and the innocent blood that he had shed ; for that now his time was come to die for the same. — ^\Ve fired upon him with our pis- tols ; when finding he was not yet dead, and remembering that it had been reported, that he had used sorcery in order to defend his body, and that he was invulnerable, and withal to rid him of life with as little torture as we might, we slew him with our swords and departed."*
This exploit of Covenanting zeal formed a sort of era in the history of the religious war in Scotland, leading immediately to the insurrection which was quelled at Bothwell-bridge, and to several manifestos which breathed direct and resolute rebellion. In fact, the opposition made in that country to the church and crown was, from the beginning, more political than religious. It was a continuation of the rebellion which in this part of the king- dom had been completely fought out and determined ; and it is no longer a secret, that, on both sides of the Tweed, a zeal for doctrine and purity of worship was, among certain leaders, made the pretext for aiming at higher objects, and for accomplishing purposes which they did not think it safe to avow. The con- sciousness of such inter^tions seems, indeed, to have descended to almost the lowest ranks of the disaffected ; and a correspon- dence, with foreign states and individual confederates abroad, appears to have been begun a very short time after the Restora- tion, and carried on till their plans were finally matured in the
• See Appendix to Life of Sharp.
536 Veitch's Memoirs.
year 1788. That a participation in the hopes and fears connected with their several plots was circulated among the adherents is, we think, made plain by a great number of facts ; and, in particular, by an expression which Brysson made use of in a letter to his sister, transmitted by a private hand from London to Edinburgh. The gentleman who carried the epistle in question was appre- hended on suspicion, and carried before the privy council of Scotlawl, but was acquitted upon giving his oath that he knew nothing of Brysson, further than that they had made a voyage in the same ship from the Frith to the Thames. " But," says the Covenanter, " when our letters were read before the council, and our names found to be in the Portion's roll, our friends were seized upon and carried to. prison, and next day were examined. The lords alleged, we were concerned in the plot ; and especially because of one expression I had in my letter to my sister, which was, after several exhortations for her to keep God's way, I said, ' though there be a sore scattering among God's people, yet I hoped the Lord would bring them together again ; for there was a work upon the wheels would tend to the glory of God and the good of the peoph.^ " . ,
This "work," on the success of which Brysson suspended l^i^ hopes, was no other than the traiterous enterprise of Monmouth and Argyle. On several other occasions, the intelligent reader of these memoirs will perceive that a perfect intelligence prevailed among the heroes of Pentland and Bothwell relative to the ultimate object of their field meetings and armed associations. It may, perhaps, be regarded as no weak confirmation of this statement, that when the Earl of Argyle escaped from the castle of Edin- burgh, he took refuge in the house of an outlawed minister ; in whose society, as we have already mentioned, he intrigued and plotted against the government of the country, first in London, and afterwards in Holland. But one of the most unambiguous indications of their views, in reference to the civil constitution and reigning family of the kingdom, is to be found in the manifestos or declarations which they issued, from time to time, during the progress of the insurrection ; in some of which they not only dis- owned the sovereign, denied his right to the throne, and abjured his authority, but even proceeded to declare war against him as a usurper and tyrant. The reader Avill not be displeased with the following specimen of the diplomatic style adopted by the Chris- tian persons, whose self-denying and passive characters it is at present so much the fashion to extol. The following "Declara- tion" is dated at Sanquhar, June 22, in the year of Grace, 1680.
After a preface, in which the author speaks of Charles as pne "who, it is true (so far as we know) is descended from the
Veitch's Memoirs. 537
race of our kings, yet he hath so far deborded from what he ought to have been, that we have great reason to account it one of the Lord's controversies with us that we have not disowned him : therefore, aUhough we be for governors and government, such as the word of God and our covenants allow; yet, we for ourselves, and all that will adhere to us, the representatives of the true Presbyterian church, and covenanted nation of Scotland, considering the great hazard of lying under sin any longer, do by these presents disown Charles Stuart, who hath been reigning these years by-gone, or rather, we may say, tyrannizing on the throne of Britain, as having any right, title, or interest to or in the said crown of Scotland, or government, as forfeited several years since by his perjury and breach of covenant with God and his church, and usurpation of his crown and royal prerogative, and many other breaches in matters ecclesiastical, and by his tyranny and breaches in the very rules of government, in matters civil; for which reasons Ave declare, that several years since he should have been denuded of being King, ruler, or magistrate, or of having any power to act or to be obeyed as such. As als6 we, under the banner of our Lord Jesus Christ, the captain of our salvation, do declare a war with such a tyrant and usurper, and all the men of these practices, as enemies to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to his cause and covenant, and against such as have any ways strengthened him, sided with, or acknowledged him, in his usurpation, civil and ecclesiastical, yea, and against all such as shall in any ways strengthen, side with, or acknowledge him, or any other in the like usurpation and tyranny, far more against such as would betray or deliver up our free and reformed church into the bondage of Antichrist, the Popi: of Rome. And by this we promulgate our testimony at Rutherlan. the 29th of May, 1769, and all the faithful testimonies ofthose that have gone before us, as also of those who have suffered of late. Also we do disclaim that declaration published at Hamilton the 13th of June, 1679, chiefly because it takes in the King's interest, which we are seve- ral years since loosed from ; as also, because of the foresaid reasons, and others that we may after this (if the Lord will) publish. As also we disown and resent the reception of the Duke of York, a professed Papist, as repugnant to our principles, and vows to the most high God, and as that which is the great, though, alas ! the just reproval of our church. We also by this protest ag-ainst his succeeding to the throne, as against whatever hath been done, or any one assaying to do in this land, given to the Lord, in prejudice to our work of reformation. And, to conclude, we hope after ibit none will blame us or offend, at our rewarding of those that
538 Veitch's Memoirs'*
are against us, as they have done to us, as the Lord gives the opportunity."
To people who professed such principles, it was impossible for the government of any country to extend toleration. The above testimony, as it was called, contains not only the highest acts of treason of which a subject can be guilty, the abjuration of the royal authority and person, and an avowed declaration of open war ; but it also embodies a resolution, still more dangerous to the peace of society and the safety of individuals, to reward those that were against them as the Lord should give them opportunity ; that is, to murder or assassinate every man invested with office who did not cooperate with them in promoting the ends of their mischievous covenant. It may still remain a question among dispassionate readers, whether the ministers of Charles the Second pursued in Scotland the line of policy which an enlightened humanity would have dictated to honest minds ; but it cannot be a question with any, whether the followers of Cargill and Cameron did not, by their writings and subsequent actions, forfeit their lives to the laws of their country, and even render necessaiy and expedient the decisive measures which were era- ployed against them.
We are aware that all the Presbyterians of that period did not hold the political doctrines, nor approve the outrageous conduct of their brethren, in proclaiming war against the government. But it is to be remembered, that it was only the latter class who felt the pains and penalties inflicted by the arm of power ; and that the former, as they accepted the indulgence and toleration offered by the state, were exposed to no other inconveniences than such as always attach to the condition of Dissenters, however loyal and re- spected. No moderate Presbyterian, who was disposed to grant and to receive religious freedom, suffered either personal fear or pains under the administration of Charles and James. The dragoonings and imprisonments, and executions on the scaffold, were all along confined to that infatuated body of reformers, who called them- selves the Lord's people, and all others the children of Satan ; who took credit for fighting under the banners of Jesus Christ, while they described the King, in their public documents, as the devil's vicegerent, as the enemy of God, a usurper and a tyrant ; and who thought they had a call from heaven to murder in cold blood every one who served the monarch, owned his authority, paid taxes, and did not swear to the covenant.* These are the men
* As an instance of this bad spirit it may be mentioned, that one of the Cargills (there were two brothers,) undertook to murder the Duke of York, when he difiad in public, but was disappointed by being known in the street, and compelled to run for safety.
Veitch's Memoirs. 539
against whom the hand of persecution was lifted up, and for whose sufferings so many attempts are made to awaken our sympathy and veneration. Much, indeed, is it to be lamented, that so many lives were taken, and that so many ignorant, deceived, and miserable peasants were dragged from their houses to endure for years the horrors of a dungeon, or the heart-sickening sorrows of exile in a distant plantation. Still, historical impartiality re- quires that we should mention, in exculpation of the noblemen at the helm of affairs, that nearly all who suffered might have escaped the pains of law upon simply acknowledging the King's authority, or uttering the most common expression of loyalty. Every one, we believe, who was not convicted of direct murder, might have obtained his enlargement by saying, even on the scaffold, God save the King ; and Sir Geoi^ Mackenzie declares, in his "Defence of the Government of Charles the Second," that the state prisoners would have been liberated from jail, could they have been induced to acknowledge the authority by which that act of grace is to be performed, and to promise thereafter to obey the laws. The greater part did not condescend to give either pledge of their loyalty.
After the fight at Bothwell, where it is said there were no fewer than fifteen preachers or ministers in arms, the fanatics in the associated counties became more furious and desperate than ever. At length, in the month of September or October, 1680, Mr* Cargill, now the leading orator of the party, proceeded to a minis- terial act, which in point of rebellious intent and unchristian feeling is not to be paralleled, we think, in the history of human error and imbecility. " I, being a minister of Jesus Christ, and having authority and power from him, do, in his Name and by his Spirit, excommunicate Charles the Second, King, &c. cast him out of the true church, and deliver him up to Satan ; and that upon account of these wickednesses : 1st. For his high mocking of God, in that after he had acknowledged his own sins, his father's sins, his mother's idolatry, and had solemnly engaged against them, in a declaration at Dumfermline, the 16th of August, 1660, h© hath, notwithstanding of all this, gone on more avowedly in these sins than all that went before him. 2dly. For his great perjury,' after he had twice at least, solemnly subscribed that covenant, did so presumptuously renounce, disown, and command it to be burned by the hand of the hangman. 3dly. Because he hath rescinded all laws for establishing of that religion and reforma- tion engaged to in that covenant, and enacted laws for establish- ing its contrary ; and is still working for the introduction of Popery into their lands. 4thly. For commanding of armies to destroy the Lord's people who were (standing in their own
54^ Yhitch's Memoirs.
defence, arid for their privileges and rights, agaiiist tyrannies, oppressions, injuries of men ; and for the blood which he hath shed in fields, on scaffolds, and in the seas, of the people of God, upon account of religion and righteousness. 5thly. That he hath been still an enemy to, a persecutor of the true Protestants a favourer and helper of the Papists, both at home and abroad, and hath hindered to the utmost of his power the due execution of the laws against them. 6thly. For his relaxing of the king- dom, by his frequent grant of remission and pardons for murderers, (which is in the power of no King to do, being expressly contrary to the law of God,) which was the ready way to embolden men in committing of murder, to the defiling of the land with blood. Lastly, To pass by all other things, his great and dreadful un- cleanness of adultery and incest, his drunkenness, his dissembling with God and man, and performing his promises where his engagements Avere sinful."
"Next, by the same authority, and in the same name, I ex- communicate, cast out of the true church, and deliver up to Satan, James, Duke of York, &c. and that for his idolatry," &c.
In the same way this charitable Covenanter cast out of the church, and gave up to Satan, James, Duke of Monmouth; John, Duke of Lauderdale ; John, Duke of Rothes ; and finally, Sir George Mackenzie, the King's Advocate. The offences of his Grace of Lauderdale are enumerated at great length, and in. particular, " his dreadful blasphemy, especially that word to the prelate of St. Andrews, ' Sit thou on my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool ;' his atheistical drolling on the Scrip- tures of God ; scoffing at religion and religious persons ; and lastly, for his usual and ordinary cursing."
It is worthy of remark, that Lauderdale had not long ceased to be a zealous Covenanter, and to take an exemplary part in what he was pleased to call the work of reformation. But he was true neither to the covenant nor to the church. He was ready to take all sorts of oaths, tests, and abjurations ; and when, on one occasion, his enemies constructed a form so extremely inge- nious as to apply to all the personalities of his conscience, he laughed at their trick, and assured them that rather than resign his office, he Avould take a waggon-load of their oaths.
The laist testimony that we shall notice is that by Renwick, an outlawed minister, and about two hundred adherents ; who, upon the accession of James the Second, published a declaration to the following effect. " That considering that James, Duke of York, a professed and excommunicated Papist, was proclaimed. To testify their resentment of that deed, and to make appear to the world that they were free thereof, by concurrence or conniv-
Veitch's Memoirs. 54B-
ance, they protest against the foresaid proclamation of James, Dulce of York, as King, in regard that it is the choosing of a murderer to be a governor, who hath shed the blood of the Saints ; that it is the height of confederacy with an idolater, forbidden by the law of God, contrary to the declaration of the General Assembly, 1649, to choose a subject of antichrist to be their svipreme magistrate, and to intrust an enemy to the work and people of God with the mterests of. both : and upon many important grounds and reasons they protect against the validity and con- stitution of that Parliament, approving and ratifying the foresaid proclamation," &c. &c.
It will be observed, that one of the crimes for which Charles the Second was given up to Satan, was his readiness to pant, pardons; and it is a remarkable fact, that the Covenanters reckoned among the greatest sins or defections of which they themselves were guilty, the tenderness of their commanders at Drumelog, in not having murdered all the prisoners in cold blood. " After the Lord gave us the victory over Clavers, (afterwards Viscount Dundee,) and his party at Drumelog, anno 1679, we behaved not as persons that were fighting the Lord's battles, but instead of pursuing the victory that God wonderfully put in our , hands, and sanctifying the Lord of Hosts in our hearts, and before the people, by giving him the praise, did greedily run upon the spoil, and took some of the enemy prisoners, and gave them quarters, though guilty of death, and so brought ourselves lyider that curse of doing the work of the Lord deceitfully, hij with- holding of our sword from shedding of their blood; and yet we refused to be convinced that our sparing of the lives of those whom God has appointed to utter destruction, is one of the causes Avhy our lives go for theirs." ,' ' .
The vindictive and bloody spirit wTiich at that time animated the ultra-presbyterians in Scotland is, indeed, humiliating in the extreme ; for while they excommunicated the King because he gave orders to suppress the repeated insurrections which they excited and led, they preached the extermination of all nations, and of every individual who did not adopt their opinions and join their ranks. " This last sabbath, Mr. Cameron preached at Clydesdale; his text was, * Be still and know that I am God:' that day, he said, he was assured the Lord would lift up a standard against antichrist, that would go to the gate of Rome and burn it •with fire ; and that Blood should be their sign, and No Quarters their word, and earnestly wished that it might first begin in Scotland."
Do these facts at all accord with the representations now so
VOL. J. 2 o
642 Veitch's Memoiri.
commonly laid before the public, of a mild, innocent, religious, and persecuted people, who suffered unto the death, merely because they Avould not subscribe to a creed in which they did not believe, and practise forms of worship of which their hearts could not approve ! In truth, the Covenanters were as intolerant as they were ignorant, fierce, unforgiving, and bloody-minded. They rushed into rebellion with arms in their hands, because the King would not bind himself by an oath before God to root out the religion of nine-tenths of his subjects, and destroy their persons and property with fire and sword. They had the inconceivable presumption, not only to consider themselves as the only wise and conscientious persons in the kingdom, but to regard all others as idolaters worthy of death, or as hypocrites meriting contempt and derision. And yet, in point of information, character, and wealth, they themselves, as a body, were, in fact, deserving of very little consideration or esteem ; and it is only because they showed a great degree of constancy, and endured much grief and suffering, that they retain any place in our feelings and recollections. If we may form a judgment of their learning and piety from the language which they used, and the sentiments which they expressed, even on the most solemn occasions, we shall not rate their attain- ments very high. For example, when Mr. Richard Cameron, their celebrated apostle, was ordained, " the first place they sent him to," says his biographer, " to preach was Annandale." He said, how could he go there, for he did not know what sort of people they were ? Mr. Welsh said, " go your way, Richie, set the fire of hell to their tail !" The first day he preached npon that text, how shall I put thee among the children. In the ap- plication, he said, " Put you among the children, the offspring ofrobbers and thieves ! Many have heard of Annandale thieves," &c. About the time the Duke of Hamilton attempted to join the royalists with an army of Scots, who wished to rescue the king from the grasp of the parliament, Mr. Semple, another preaching prophet, was holding forth at Dumfries. " Some regiments of that army being there, he said to the officers and soldiers, ' Go ye up to Ramoth Gilead, and prosper ; but if ye prosper in the way that ye are going, God never spake by me ; for I have beheaded your duke like a sybow (onion); if ye were once in England, his head shall as sure go off him as if I had it in my gown-lap ; for God is not with you, and he will break you in his wrath : and many of you shall never see your native land again ; and those of you that escape, however brave you are now in your fine clothes, ye shall come home bare and naked, swarming with lice, for God shall smite you with one of the plagues of jEgypt' An
VeitcK*s Mmoirs. 543
^6t<!f Mari, idfd'^Was' 6he of them, told me that he Was sUfe this threatening was made out upon them, for they were like to be eaten up with a swarm of them."
One time the said Mr, Semple, " hearing the old worthy Mr. Andrew Cant (some time minister in Aberdeen), and his son Mr. Andrew Cant, preach in Edinburgh, after supper, being desired to pray in the family, he had these singular expressions about their sermons : " Lord, we had a very good dish set before us this forenoon, in a very homely dress ; and in the afternoon, wholesome food, but in a very fine airy dress : good Lord, pierce his heart with the compunction of a broken law, and fright him with the terror of the curses thereof : good Lord, brod him (prick him), and let the wind out of him — make him like his father, otherwise he will be a sad grief of heart to many."
Their fanaticism was in all cases equal to their disaffection and vulgarity. On the Sunday immediately after Cargill had excom- municated the King and the Duke of York, " ne preached at Fallow-hill, on the borders of Clydesdale. In the preface, he said, ' I know that I am and will be condemned by many for what I have done in excommunicating these wicked men ; but condemn me who will, I know I am approved of God, and am persuaded that what I have done on earth is ratified in heaven : for if ever I knew the mind of God, and was clear in my call to any piece of my generation-work, it was in that' "
We know not under what head to class the following story, which we find gravely told in the life of Semple, contained in a collection, at present issuing from the press, entitled, Biographia Presbyteriana. " One time among many he designed to admi- nister the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, and before the time came, he assured the people of a great communion by Christ's presence, which should be most remarkable for the effusion of the spirit He told them also that the devil would be so envious about the good work they were to go about, that he was afraid he would be permitted to raise a storm in the air, with a speat (flood) of rain, to raise the waters, designing to drown some of them ; but it will not be in the compass of his power to drown any of you, no, not so much as a dog. Accordingly, it came to pass on Monday, when they were dismissing, they saw a man all in black, entering the water to wade, a little above them ; they were afraid, the water being big ; immediately, he lost his feet, as they apprehended, and came down lying on his back and waving his hand. The people ran and got ropes, and threw in to him ; and though there were about ten or twelve men upon the ropes, they Were in danger of being drowned (drawn) into the water. Mr. Semple, looking on, cried, ' Quit the ropes, and let him go j he
2o2
544 Veitch's Memoirs.
saw who it was ; 'tis the Devil ! 'tis the Devil ! he will burn, but not drown ; and by drowning you would have God dishonoured, because he hath gotten some glory to his free grace, in being kind to so many of your souls at this time, and the wicked world to reprove the work of God. Oh ! he is a subtle, wylie Devil, that lies at the catch, waiting his opportunity that now, when ye have heard all and gotten all ye can get at this occasion, his design is to raise a confusion among you, to get all out of your minds that ye have heard, and off your spirits that ye have felt.' He earnestly exhorted them all to keep in mind what they had heard and seen, and to retain what they had attained, and to go home blessmg God for all, and that the devil was disappointed in his hellish design." All search was made in that country (a proof that they had doubted the report of their minister) to find out if any man was lost, but none could be heard of; from whence all concluded that it was the Devil.
The same biographer informs us, that when the godly and worthy Mr. Blair, one of the favourite preachers, was stretched on his deathbed, and about to expire, he lifted up his hands, and ex- claimed, " O Lord, rub, rub, rub shame upon Sharp, ^^ the Arch- bishop of St. Andrew's : and this rude, unchristian address to heaven was afterwards regarded by the admirers of the covenant as a prediction inspired by the Holy Ghost.
So much were the minds of the credulous people depraved by the miserable jargon to which their ears had become accustomed, that the more moderate Presbyterian preachers were all deserted, and even had in greater contempt and dislike than the established clergy. Sir George Mackenzie states, in his Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland, under the year 1670, that, " The fanatics, encou- raged by the Indulgence, and confiding in Lauderdale and Tweed- dale, had, in the interval of parliament, kept very frequent con- venticles, especially about Linlithgow ; they scorned to obey any governors of a different profession ; and they intended to force the king and council to restore them to their former sway, leaving those able men who were indulged to preach, and running after silly ignorant creatures who had been banished ; and one Porter, whom the fanatics had undervalued formerly, did set up a con- venticle, betwixt the parishes of Mr. George Hutchison, Mr. Alexander Wedderbourn, Mr. William Odair, and Mr. Miller, the great chiefs of their profession, and had shunned extremely their congregations ; and great multitudes had gone from their parishes to the hill of Beth, in Fife, where they kept a conven- ticle in the open fields, being all armed ; and when some of his majesty's guards came up to them, they were blindfolded, and kept in the midst of the congregation till their sermon was ended."
Veitch's Memoirs, 545
In some places the fanaticism of the poor misled peasants broke out into the greatest extravagancies. We are informed by Cruik- shank, in his " History of the Church of Scotland," (vol. ii. p. 95.) and by the author of the " Life of Cargill," that " John Gibb, a sailor, in Borrowstownness, a great professor, (but still some serious souls jealous of him) drew about twenty-six women and three men with him, the greater part serious, exercised, tender, zealous, gracious souls, who stumbled upon that stumbling-block laid in their way of minister's compliance, &c. They uttered strange anti-gospel imprecations, disdaining and reproaching all others as backsliders, stating their testimony against all crown dues, excise and customs, and for that end would make no use of ale nor tobacco, nor other fool things. These people at first were commonly called sweet singers, from their frequently meeting together, and singing these tearful psalms over the mournful state of the church, Psalm 74, 79, &c. Thus they continued from the beginning of the year until April ; then all with one consent, that they might be free of all these foresaid things, left their houses, warm, soft beds, covered tables — some of them their husbands and children, Aveeping upon them to stay with them — some women taking the sucking children in their arms to desert places, to be free of all snares and sins, and communion with all others, and mourn for their own sins, the land's tyranny and defections, and there be safe from the land's utter ruin and desolations by judgments ; some of them going to Pentland-hills, with a resolu- tion to sit there to see the smoke and utter ruin of the sinful bloody city Edinburgh ; but if they had fulfilled their resolution, they would have been sadly weatherbeaten these forty-eight years. Gibb and David Jamie carried pistols upon them, and threatened all who came to seek their wives or others from them, which frightened some." "They renounced," saysCruikshank, "thepsalms in metre, the translation of the Old and New Testaments, because of its dedication to King James. They rejected all authority throughout the world, from the tyrant Charles Stuart (I use their own words) to the smallest tyrant. After this, in the beginning of May, the Gibbites were all taken by a troop of dragoons, at the Woolhill Craigs, betwixt Lothian and Tweeddale, a very desert place. The enemies carried them to Edinburgh. The poor men were put in the Canongate Tolbooth, and the twenty-six women in the Correction-house, and some of them scourged ; and as their friends and husbands lived, and had moyen (means), they were set free. In a little time they were all liberated. These poor men, with Isabel Brown, and another woman whose name I forget, went next to the Frost moss, where they burnt the Holy Bible, as they had exclaimed against the psalms in metre and contents of the
546 Veitch's Memoirs.
Bible as human inventions : every one of them had something' to say. When they threw their Bibles into the fire, they uttered horrible imprecations. The night before that frightful action, Walter Ker and John Young prayed all night in the moss, and a light shining about them. Walter Ker ran mad : Gibb was sent to America, where he was much admired by the heathen for his familiar converse with the Devil bodily, and offering sacrifices to him."
Such was the end of the sweet singers, the heroes of popular romance and of vulgar admiration. They were disowned, indeed, by the wiser portion of the Presbyterians, and so were all the other sects of the field-preachers and mountain-men, as they were usually denominated. But, we repeat, it is this very class who were rejected by their own brethren, as extravagant and un- manageable fanatics, who are extolled in modern histories and novels, as having been the most enlightened friends of liberty, the defenders of evangelical truth, and martyrs to the cause of pure, primitive Christianity, in the midst of an evil generation. Kirkton, in his secret and true history of the church of Scotland, remarks "that the extravagant practices of the rabble were no way approved by the godly and judicious Presbyterians ; yea, they were ordinarily the actions of the profane and ignorant ;" but he admits that such was the virulent and fanatical spirit, with which the lower orders of the people were possessed, that " I have known," says he, "^some profane persons, if they had committed one error at night, thought affronting a curate to-morrow a tes- timony of their repentance."
Alluding to the Acts passed on the 30th of November, 1669, Sir George Mackenzie observes : —
" The first of these was enforced as necessary, because minis- ters to the great contempt of religion had their houses robbed, and were nightly pursued for their lives in all the western shires ; so that they were forced to keep guards, which exhausted their stipends, and abstracted themselves from their employments ; and albeit those shires pretended that this was done by high- waymen, who showed their insolencies under the pretext of religion, calling themselves Presbyterians, and inveighing against the poor ministers whom they robbed in the language of their sect; yet it was concluded that these insolencies were committed by those of that per- suasion, who were known to think, that all injuries done to episcopal ministers, were so many acceptable services done to God : and that it was most probable that the same zeal which carried them on to plunder, imprison, and execute all such as differed from them in the last rebellion, and to shoot at the Bishop of St. Andrew, upon the street, might excite them to great outrages, when they were counie- nanced as they thought by authority, and under silence of night, when they might hope for impunity ; nor was ever the west country known
Veltch's Memoirs. 547
to be infested M"ith robbers at other occasions, so that they were con- nivers at least in those crimes, and therefore deserved to be fined on such occasions."
Before we close our extracts from the lately discovered work of Sir George, of which only a small number was printed, we shall treat our readers with an anecdote respecting the lady who became the first wife of Bishop Burnet, and who is said to have incited her credulous husband to take part against Lauderdale, in revenge for that nobleman's refusing to marry her. The fact is alluded to in various memoirs, as the secret history of Lady Margaret's opposition to the administration of the duke, as also of Burnet's intrigues and insinuations against the royal com- missioners : —
*' Lauderdale had, of a long time, entertained with Lady Margaret Kennedy, daughter to the Earl of Cassillis, an intimacy which had grown great enough to become suspicious, in a person who loved not, as some said, his own lady. This lady had never married, and was always reputed a wit, and the great patron of the Presbyterians, in which persuasion she was a very bigot ; and the suspicion increased much upon her living in the abbey, (the palace of Holyrood-house,) in which no woman else lodged ; nor did the commissioner blush to go openly to her chamber in his night-gown ; whereupon her friends having challenged her for that unusual commerce, and having repre- sented to her the open reprehensions and railleries of the people, received no other answer than that her virtue was above suspicion ; as really it was, she being a person whose religion exceeded as far ai; her wit and her parts exceeded others of her sex."
Lauderdale, it is well known, upon the demise of his first duchess, married the Lady Dysart, and broke off his acquaintance with the daughter of Lord Cassillis ; immediately after which event, the latter threw herself into the arms of the future Bishop of Salisbury, and commenced a series of acrimonious attacks on the person and measures of her noble Lothario. The fooleries and falsehoods into which Burnet was driven, are familar to every reader of British history ; but Lauderdale, knowing whence this originated, smiled at the resentment which his inconstancy had excited, and at the imbecility which allowed itself to become the instrument of female spleen, and the avenger of disappointed hopes in the person of a wife.
We owe some apology for the rambling style of this article ; but we would rest our defence upon the consideration that, in all cases where character is concerned, two facts are better than twenty arguments. With this view we have given an outline of the prin- ciples and conduct of the Covenanters in Scotland from their own publications ; thereby making it evident that they suffered for actual rebellion and not for religion ; for maintaining and uttering
548. Veitch's Memoirs,
the most treasonable doctrines in politics and not for holding the divine right of Presbyterianism ; for abjuring the King and his government, and for declaring war against both, and not merely for listening to the mystical declamations of a favourite preacher, nor for deserting the cathedrals and denying the apostolical insti- tvition of bishops. We are not so little acquainted with the melan- choly annals of those evil times, as to assert that the principles of toleration were properly understood in the reign of Charles the Second, or acted upon cordially by any denomination of Christians in any part of Europe ; but we do maintain, that the particular class of people who in Scotland preached, and heard preachings, cit lield conventicles, were more intolerant than the established church, and compelled by their extravagancies, their murders, and their dangerous principles, the members and supporters of the latter to have recourse to severities which they themselves were the first to deplore — to regret. In fact, the persecuted Pres- byterians held it a sin worthy of eternal damnation, either to re- ceive or to grant toleration ; and with such persons, we need not add, it was impossible for any government to keep terms.
The spirit of the times in Avhich we live, calls for such publica- tions as the " Memoirs of Veitch and Brysson," the heroes and martyrs, as they are esteemed, of civil and religious liberty. We regret not their appearance ; they are valuable^ relics of an im- portant period, when the national mind was deeply moved, and the principles of our excellent constitution in church and state, Avere passing through the last stage of their chaotic condition, and about to settle in the beautiful forms which we cannot too much value and admire. But we are at a loss to j^erceive the advan- tage which is expected to accrue to a cause, Avhich was advocated by ministers of the Gospel, armed, not with knowledge and charity, and forbearance, but with swords, pistols, deceit, and falsehood ; acting the part of captains to rebelliovis armies, and of spies and traitors in an enemy's camp ; talking, Avithout shame or restraint, a multitude of lies, from Avhich the delicacy of a common trooper would have shrunk, and denying, with an unblushing face, facts which could have been legally proved and substantiated.
If Dr. M'Crie thinks that a religious body was to gain any credit from such conduct in its ministers, Ave should have very little confidence in his judgment on all such matters. The cha- racter of Veitch, we think, is one of Avhich no denomination of zealots could be proud, andfor Avhose Aveaknesses hardly any ex- tenuation can be found, even in the unhappy juncture of affairs Avherein his lot Avas cast. He AA'anted courage to be honest ; he Avas too selfish to be a patriot ; he Avas too ignorant to be the benefactor of religion ; and he knew too little of mankind to be a
Veitch's Memoirs. 549
safe guide in political commotions. He submitted to be the tool of a faction, the emissary of traitors, the drudge and postboy of rebels and conspirators : he intrigued in London, pledged his faith in Holland to the enemies of his country, and returned to England to prepare means for plunging the whole Icingdom into the hor- rors of a civil war. Was such employment suitable to the calling of a Christian minister ?
Brysson, again, moved in a lower sphere, but he also appears to have been privy to the " great work that was upon the wheels ;" the invasion from Holland. Wallace, whose narrative occupies the third place in this volume, commanded the insurgents at Pentland-hills, and showed some talent as a member of the mili- tary profession ; but so poorly was he supported by his fifteen ministers who took the field under his flag, that " if the Lord (we use his own words) had not in Providence so ordered that we had greatly the advantage of the ground being at a pretty height above them (the enemy,) and that it was growing dark, and close upon the edge of the Pentland-hills whither we fled, in all probability there had been a greater destruction than there was. There was not above one hundred killed and taken prisoners by the enemy ; what assistance the country made that night to the enemy is well known."
lire's account of the affairs at Bothwell-bridge is also interest- ing, as being written by a leader and an eye-witness. He states, that the chiefs were unanimous " before the ministers came to them, and that they could do no good until they were re- moved ; and they were for not owning of the King, who had de- prived us of the Gospel, and was seeking our destruction both of soul and body." — The ministers insisted upon excluding from command all persons " who had heard indulged men, or taken the bond, or paid the cess, or were hearers of Curates." " They told us we were for an Indulgence, and they declared that they would sheathe their swords a« soon in them who owned it (the Indulgence,) cw they would do in as many of the malignants."
The violence of the ministers did more to secure the victory for Monmouth, than his park of artillery. The poor fanatics were dispersed ; and their foolish pastors collected them in their several mosses and moors, to lament the decay of Christian charity, and the increased popularity of the Indulgence. But, it deserves to be recorded, that the greater part of the Scottish peo- ple had no share either in field preachings, or in the abortive at- tempts to subdue the royal armies at Pentland-hills, or Bothwell- bridge.
^ppinn, I '-
INDEX
TO THE
FIRST VOLUME of the BRITISH CRITIC.
Acropolis, siege of the, 16.
Amman, ruins of, described, 465.
Anatolico, providential supply of water at the siege of, 17, note,
Andes, passes in the, 333, tiote.
Asma, sultana, anecdote of, 15.
Assalt, description of the town of, 459, 460 — dress of the inhabitants, 461 — population, ib. — hospitality of, 462 — their houses described,, t6. — pursuits of the people, 463 — diligence of Mr. Buckingham in obtaining the names, bearings, and distances of places in this neighbourhood, ib.
Austin, (A.) Lights and shadows of Scot- tish life, &c. 149 — character of the author's works, 149, 150 — specimen of his style of description, 151 — out- line of the tale of the " Lily of Liddesdale," 152 — remarks on it, 153 — extract from " Helen Eyre," 154 — remarks on the remaining " Lights and Shadows," ib. — specimen of the author's sentimentality, 155 — stric- tures on it, ib. — his soliloquy upon funeral rites, ib. — remarks on the *' Trials of Margaret Lindsay," 156 — epitome of the story, 156-159 — obser- vations on the plan of the fable, 159, 160 — extracts from it, 160, 161 — brief notice of the " Foresters," 162 — extract fronj it, 163 — concluding remarks, 164.
Battle of Hastings, description of the, 278.
Blanco White, account of his conversion to Protestantism, 383.
Blaquiere, (E.) Narrative of a second visit to Greece, 1 — character of the author and of his work, 6 — fishing in the shallow waters between Messo- lunghi and Anatolico, ib. — unhappy conjecture respecting the old Trsesene, 7 — inadequate reasons for disguising the fallings off in Greece, ib. — candour of Lord Byron respecting, ib.
Blomfield, (Dr.) /Eschyli Choephoroe, 68 — notice of his authorities, 69 — ex- tracts from the notes and glossary, with remarks, 70-75 — typographical errors, 74.
Boaden, (J.) Life of Kemble, 365 — re- flections on the proposed subscription for erecting a monument to his memory, ib, — character of the work, 366 — design of the author, ib. — sketch of the early life of Kemble, ib. — his first appearance at Drury-lane, 367 — ■ high patronage of the drama in 1783, ib. — notice of Gentleman Smith, 368 — account of the difficulties and em- barrassments of the theatre under Kemble's management, 369 — proof of his accommodating spirit, ib. — pur- chases a share of the Covent-garden property, 370 — ^the conflagration of Covent-garden theatre, Kemble's re- flections on,371 — exactness with which he finished up the details of the drama, ib. — strictures on the O. P. riot, 372 — notice of his performance of Corio- lanus, ib. — and of his retirement from the stage, ib. — description of his last moments by an English clergyman, 373 — Mr.Boaden's sketch of the style and manner of Palmer, ib. — of Dodd, ib. — of Bensley, 374 — of Parsons, ib. and of Henderson, ib. — character of his criticisms, 375 — strictures on his style, ib. — general remarks on the character of Kemble, 377, 378. Bombex Ceiba, notice of the, 203. Bosra, copy of a Greek inscription on
an ancient church at, 473. Brewster, (Dr.) successful result of his optical experiments to obtain homogeneous light by means of flames and coloured media, 269. Brief memoir respecting the Waldenses,
378. See Vaudois. Brief narration of a visit to the Vaudois
in 1824, 378. See Vaudois. Brown, (Dr. T ) Life and writings of, 238 — sketch of his early life, ih. — notice of his formation of the academy of physics, and of its principal members, 239 — objects of the acade- my ,239,240 — remarks thereon, 241 — origin of the Edinburgh Review, ib. — original contributors to that popular journal, ib. — Dr. Brown's appointment to the ethical chair, 242 — his death, ib, — ^retrospective view of the progress
INDEX.
SSf
of metaph3n5ical learning, ih. — meta- physical tenets of Descartes, 243 — of Locke, i6.— of Bishop Berkeley, 244 — of Hume, ib. — sceptical system of Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, over- turned by Dr. Reid, 245 248— defence of Dr. Reid from the mi^srepresenta- tions of Dr. Priestley, 248, 249— Hobbes' account of the doctrine of his age, 249 — strictures on the intel- lectual physiology of Hartley, Priest- ley, and Darwin, 250 — Dr. Reid's system ably illustrated by Mr. Stewart, ib. — summary of Hume's essay on the relation of cause and effect, 250-252 ^extract from Dr. Brown's " Inquiry into the relation of cause and eflFect," 252 — remarks on it, 253, 254— igno- rance of his biographer exposed, 254-256 — remarks on Dr. B.'s defence of Hume, 256, 257 — on the service rendered to physical science by Hume, 258 — on Dr. B.'s lectures on moral philosophy, 259 — circumstances re- specting their composition, 259, 260 —remarks thereon, 260, 261 — sketch of his system of moral philosophy, 261, 262 — notice of his poetical works, 262 — concluding remarks, 263.
Buckingham, (J. S.) Travels among the Arab tribes, 452— Mr. B.'s charge against Mr. Burckhardt, remarks on, 453, 454 — observations on the work, and on the map prefixed to it, 454, 455 — abstract of his travels, with re- marks thereon, 456-479.
Buenos Ayres, characteristics of, .'^32 — vast traffic formerly maintained in the tea-plant of Paraguay, 333 — decrease of the slave population, 334 — immense annual importation of slaves, i6.
Butler, (Rev. S.) Sermon preached at the funeral of Rev. S. Parr, 424— excel- lencies of Dr. Parr's character, 425 — his literary attainments, 426, 427 — extracts from the sermon, with re- marks, 428-430.
Caldclengh, (A.) Trarels in SouthJAme- rica, 330 — character of his work, 331 — marvellous equestrian exploit of the author, 335 — his description of the living and dead mules of the Andes, 336 — notice of his history of the Araucanos, ib, — his improve- ment of the singular story of Bena- vides, 336, 337 — bis theory respect- ing the difference in the relative heights of the Pacific and Atlantic disproved, 337.
Callao, castle of, notice of the, 342,
note.
Chandler, (Rev. 6.) Eight sermons preached before the university of Oxford, 480 — ill-success of former Bampton lectures, ib. — observations on the causes of it, 481, 482 — also on the present lecture, 482 — object of the work, i6.— remarks thereon, 483, 484 — coincidence of it with Mr. Miller's lectures, 484 — extracts from it, with occasional re- marks, 485-507 — concluding obser- vations, 507-509.
Charles II., picture of the court of, 417 — anecdotes of, 418.
Copim, (or white ant) notice of the, 334.
Dahhil, description of buildings at, 472.
Dispersive powers of different species of glass, notice of experiments to deter- mine the, 264.
Drama, patronage enjoyed by the, in 1783,367.
Drummond's (Sir W.) Origines, 285 — former speculative opinions of, ib. — remarks on his account of the an- cient kings, and civilization of Babylon 286 — specimens of his etymological discoveries, 287 — unfortunate at- tempt to identify Zoroaster with Ham, 288 — examples of pedantry and erro- neous orthography, ib. tiole — the in- vention of the solar images, called hamanim, or chamanim, ascribed by him to Ham's posterity, 289 — exa- mination of his authorities for this assertion, 289, 290 — real author of the mistakes discovered, 290, »ole — the confusion of tongues, and general dispersion of the builders of the tower of Babel, objected to by Sir Wm., 291 — refutation of his objec- tions, 291-295 — remarks on his ac- count of the titles conferred on Nimrod, 296, 297 — on his etymolo- gical account of the word Babel, 296 — on the origin of the empire of Ba- bylon, 297, 298— notice of his solu- tion of the 520 years of Herodotus, 299 — strictures on his emendations of Hyde, 299-301 — remarks on his ac- count of the Dal)istaa and its author, 301,302 — general observations on the volume, 303 — review of the 2d vo- lume,— remarks on his etymology of the ancient names of Egypt, 303, 304 — on his etymology of the word Egypt, 305-307 — on the chapters on hieroglyphics, 307, 308 — concluding remarks, 309.
552
INDEX
Evelyn, (John) Miscellaneous writings of, 25 — amiable character of the author, ib. — extract from his trans- lation of Va)er's " Essay on Liberty and Servitude," 26, 27 — remarks on it, 27 — character of his " State of France under Louis XIV.," 27, 28— extracts from it, 29, 30 — affecting epistle on the death of his son, 31-34 — reflections thereon, 34, 35 — sketch of his " Character of England," 35, 36— his devotion to the royal cause, 37— ^proposed improvement of the metropolis, suggested in his " Fumi- fugium," 37, 38 — notice of the " Sculptura," 38 — of his " Account of Architects and Architecture," 39 — and of the *' Kalendarium Hor-
, tense," ih. — remarks on his tract upon " Public Employment and an Active Life, &c.," 40— extracts from it, 40, 41 — sketch of his '• History of the three late famous Impostors," 42-44 — remarks on his " Navigation and Commerce, 45 — specimen of his poetic talent, 46 — extracts from the ♦' Acetaria," with remarks, 47, 48. Excavations in Rome, notice of, 397.
Fang-jani, (or self-consuming tree) notice of the, 204.
Fine arts, progress of the, in Italy, 398, 399.
Fire of London described, 413, 414.
Fishing in the shallows between Mes- solunghi and Anatolica, 6.
Frauenhofer, (M.) Memoir on refrac- tive and dispersive powers, 263 — sketch of his experiments to deter- mine the dispersive powers of differ- ent species of glass, 264, 265 — re- marks thereon, 266, 267.
Gambling, furor of, in South America, 346, note.
Gilly, (W. S.) Narration of an excur- sion to the mountains of Piedmont, 378. See Vaudois.
Gourra, anecdote of, 20.
Gray, (Major W.) Travels in Western Africa, 176 — arrival of Major Peddie at the Senegal, 177 — death of Mr. Cowdrey and appointment of Major • Gray, ib. — original plan of the expe- dition, ib. — persons composing it, 178 — its departure from the Senegal, ib. death of Major Peddie, ifi.— lieuts. Stokoe and Mr. Roe and hospital as- sistant Nelson join the Mission, ib. — sad discomfiture from a swarm of bees, 179 — reasonable request of the Im^ of Timb6, jo. — unwise determi-
nation of Capt. Camj»b6ll relative to, 180 —specimen of native ingenuity, ib. — difficulties of the road, ib. — obliged to abandon their field guns, ib. — fur- ther difficulties encountered by the expedition, 181 — Capt. Campbell de- termines to retreat, 182 — death of him, and of Lieut. Stokoe, ib. — re- marks on the causes of its failure, ib. — second journey, under Major Gray and Mr. Dochard, 183 — arrival of the expedition at Bond(i, ib. — civility of the Imam, ib. — description of the Goulahs, or singing- people, 184 — ex- pedition reaches Bulibilni,jthe capital, ib. — establishes itself at Samba Cont^, 185 — sickness and mortality among the Europeans, ib. — Mr. Dochard de- spatched to the king of Bambarra, ib. — exorbitant demand made for duty, ib. — vacillating conduct of the Im^m Musa Yeoro, 186 — disastrous retreat of the expedition, ib. — arrives at Bk- kel, 187 — cordially received by the French, ib. — return of Mr. Dochard from Bambarra, 188 — departure of Major Gray on his last journey, 189 — delays and impediments, i6.— returns to Sierra Leone, 190 — summary of Mr. Dochard's journey to Bambarra, 190, 191 — remarks on the map pre- fixed to the work, 192 — Major Gray not free from prejudice in his com- plaints of the conduct of Imam Isata Amadi, 206 — opportunities of im- proving his knowledge of the habits and opinions of the negro chiefs over- looked, 207 — concluding remarks, 209.
Greece, present resuscitation of, 1 — state of party feeling in England, 2 — geographical extent, ib. — its fertility and products, ib. — revenue exacted by the Porte, ib. — harbours, ib. — num- bers of insurgent population, ib. — re- sources of the country adapted to a great increase of population, ib. — cli- mate, 5 — national character, ib. — navy, 23. See Waddington.
Guinand, (M.) intuitive mechanical skill of, 268 — notice of his improve- ments in the manufacture of glass for optical purposes, ib.
Herschel (J. E. W.) Absorption of light by coloured media, 263 — ac- count of his optical researches, 270- 273.
Huss, (John,) examination of the case of, 147.
Infidelity, spread of, in Catholic coun- tries, 384.
INDEX.
f>5S
Inscriptions, ancient Greek. See Bozra, Mijdel, Nedjeraun.
Jesuits, memorable declaration of, pre- fixed to their edition of Newton's Principia, 388.
Katzantoni, a mountain warrior of Agra- pha, interesting account of, 9.
Lancaster, (Rev. T. W.) Harmony of the law and the gospel, 49 — indecision and inconsistency of deists exposed, 49, 50 — plausible objections urged by Bolingbroke against the divine original of the Law of Moses, 50 — gross fallacy of, 51 — notice of the works of Dr. Warburton, 51,52 — character of Mr. Lancaster's work, 52, 53 — review of it, with copious extracts, 53-68.
London shopkeepers and Yorkshire farmers, lofty pretensions of, 283.
Lowther, (G.) Brief obser^'ations on the present state of the Waldenses, and upon their actual [sufferings, 373. See Vaudois.
Mahomed Bey, account of, 42.
Malkin, (B. H.) Classical disquisitions and curiosities, 322 — extracts from the work, with remarks thereon, 323- 327 — strictures on his indiscriminate praise of Lord Byron, 328, 329.
Mandioca root, notice of the, 332.
Mazzucchcllj, (P.) Corippi Jobannis, 309 — notice of the other works of Corippus,310 — also of the manuscript copies of this poem, ib. — plan of it, 311 — remarks on its execution, ib. — and on its historical merits, 311, 312 — abstract of the information supplied by the Jobannis respecting that por- tion of the war in Africa omitted by Procopius, 313-316 — notice of the Moorish deities, 317, 318— of the Roman and Moorish armies, 318, 319 —of the Moorish tribes, 319, 320— ancient poetic account of the organ by Corippus, 320 — eulogium on the editor, 321 — notice of his researches, ib. — concluding remarks, 322.
M'Crie, (Dr. T.) Memoirs of Mr, W. Veitch and G. Brysson, 525 — attempts recently made to engage the sympa- thy of the public in favour of the Scottish covenanters, ib. — character of them, ib. — outline of the opinions and practices of Mr. Veilch, 526-531 — views of other presbytcrian mi- nisters of the time ia which lie lived,
531 — remarks onthe insincere" and sel- fish conduct of the Earl of Lau derdale, ib. — consequences of it, 532 — observa- tions onthe laws against conventicles, 533 — severities exercised upon the co- venanters occasioned by the frequent murders perpetrated by them, 534 — account of their barbarous murder of Archbishop Sharp, 534, 535 — reasons for thinking that their opposition was more of a political than of a religious nature, 535, 536 — specimen cf the diplomatic style adopted by them, 537 — remarks thereon, 538 — the re- bellious presbytcrian alone punished, ib. — lenity shown to those who would acknowle(lge the king's authority, 539 — rebellious and unchristian con- duct of Mr. Cargil, 539, 540— decla- ration of an outlawed minister, and about two hundred adherents, upon the succession of James II. 540,541 — examples of their bloody and \'indic- tive spirit, 541 — specimens of the vulgarity of their ministers, 542, 543 — fanaticism of Cargil, 543— ri- diculous story of Semple in the Bio- graphia Presbyteriana, 543, 544 — anecdote of Blair, one of their favour- ite preachers, 544 — further examples of fanaticism, 544-546 — remarks thereon, 546 — anecdote of the first wif«^ of "Bishop Burnet, 547 — con- cluding remarks, 547-549. Memorie Romane di Antichit^ e de' Belle Arte, 391 — names of the editors and of some of the contributors, ib. — plan of the work, ib. — result of the labours of the antiquarian society, notice of, ib. — contents of the volume, i6. — topographical researches — disco- very of the site of the city of Veii, 392, 393— remarks on C. Cardinali's treatise on the navy of the ancient Romans, 393, 394 — monuments and antiquities of the ancient Christians, essays, on by professor Settali, and Visconti, 395, 396 — monuments illus- trated, notice of dissertations on this subject, 396, 397 — excavations in Rome, notice of, 397, 398 — remarks on the progress of the fine arts, 398, 399 — necrology for 1824 — biographi- cal sketch of Tommaso Piroli, the engraver, 399, 400. Miller, (Rev. G.) Letters on the philo- sophy of modern history, 164 — design of the author, 164, 165 — application of his theory to the facts of history, 165 — his remarks on the philosophy of history, 166— on the physiology of
S54
INDEX.
history, j6.— his providential view of history compared with the work of Paley, 167 — view of the gradual for- mation of the arransrements of Euro- pean policy, 168, 169 — analysis of the work, 169-176.
Moore, (T.) Memoirs of the life of She- ridan, 436 — expectations raised in the public mind before the appearance of the work, ib. — character of it, 436, 437 — sketch of the early life of She- ridan, 437— notice of his plays, and of the progress by which they were refined to their present excellence, 438 — literary remains of Sheridan, extracts from, 439-443 — account of his introduction to Mr. Fox, 443, 444 — anecdote respecting his first speech, 444 — notice of his eloquent speech on the Begums of Oude, 445 — remarks on his oratorical powers, 445, 446 — also on his character, 446 — sketch of his political career, 446, 447 — Mr.Moore's summary account of his political and private Iife,"447-449 — remarks thereon, 449 — conduct of the king vindicated from the aspersions of Mr. Moore, 449-450 — general re- remarks on the volume, 451-452.
Midjel, copy of a Greek inscription apon a sepulchre at, 475.
Navy of the anoint Romans, catalogue of the, 394.
Nedjeraun, Greek inscription on the architrave of a doorway at, copied by Mr. Buckingham, 476 — also one over the large door in the southern front of the ancient church of St. Elias, 477 — satisfactory proof that he made these copies, notwithstanding the confident assertion of Mr. Bankes, ib. — perfect specimens of ancient houses in this town, 477, 478.
Nitta, or locust-tree, of Western Africa, description of the, 203.
Odysseus, governor of Athens, account of, 18.
Padre Ottomano, interesting account of, 41.
Pampas, plains of Buenos Ayres, notice of, 332.
Parr, (Dr.) Letter to the Rev. Dr. Mil- ner, 424 — extracts from it, with re- marks, 431-435— obseivations on the character of the author, 435.
Parry, (William) The last days of Lord Byron, 4— sketch of the author, 11,
12 — specimen of his literary qualifi- cations, 12 — remarks on his gram- matical blunders, ib. — his inconsis-. tency and contradictions exposed, 13, 14 — advice to the author, 14.
Pepys, (Memoirs of) 400 — sketch of his early life, 401 — history of the Diary, 402— abstract of it, 402-423— subse- qent events of his life, 423 — his death, ib. — and character, 423, 424.
Philpotts, (Rev. H.) Letters to Charles Butler, Esq., 94 — reflections on the past and present state of Romanism, 94, 99 — notice of his refutation of the charges brought against the faith of archbishops Laud, Shelden, Wake, bishops Blandford, Montague, Gun- ning, Dr. Thorndyke, and others, 100 • — examination of Roman Catholic doctrines, invocation of saints, lOO — 113 — image - worship 113-122 — transubstantiation, 122 - 130 — abso- lution, penance, confession, &c. 130 - 143 — purgatory, indulgences, 143 - 144 — faith with heretics, 144 - 147 — concluding remarks, 148.
Picture of the state of England after the conquest, 280.
Plague in London, ravages of the, 412.
Poetic description of a lady's chamber, 46.
Proctor, (R.) Narrative of a Journey across the Cordilleras of the Andes, 330 — singular taste of the author, 338 — remarks on his hyperbolical description of the loftiness of the Andes, 339 — character of the narra- tive, ib.
Protestants of Piedmont, present condi- tion of, 385.
Reasons against the repeal of the usury laws, 347 — character of the pam- phlet, ib. — the author's object stated, 348 — Mr. Bentham's definition of usury, 348, 349 — remarks on the author's objections, 349 — observations on the restrictions imposed on the capitalist, 350 — reasons of the author for continuing those restrictions, 351 — remarks thereon, 351, 352 — his objection, that the rate of interest is not universal, answered, 352, 353 — amusing description of the business of a speculator, 354 — extract from Mr, Rothschild's evidence before the committee of the house of commons, 355 — reasoning of the author thereon, 356 — Mr. R.'s objection, and the rea- soning ^of his commentator, answer- ed, i6.-^xamination of the argumeut,
INDEX.
659
that indigent persons need protection in their money transactions, 337, 358 — evils which would result to the land-owners from the repeal, con- sidered, 358 — inconvenience suffered by them during the late war, 359 — remarks on annuity transactions, 360 — also on the effect the repeal would have on government loans, ib. — ex- tract from the speech of Mr. Attwood, 361, 362 — also from the evidence of Mr. Holland, in which the advan- tages to be derived from the repeal of the usury laws are perspicuously detailed, 363 — absurdity of adhering to a fixed rate of interest shown, 364 — progressive repeal of the usury laws recommended, 365. Rennel, (Rev. T.) Sermons on various subjects, 210 — character of the au- thor, and sketch of his life and writings, 210-214 — review of the sermons, 214-217 — extract from the second sermon on the Athanasian creed, including some observations on the Trinity, 217-220— from the third, on the Incarnation, 220-222— impressive observations on the doc- trine of the Resurrection, 222 — re- marks on the series of sermons deli- vered at Cambridge, 223 — objections to the supposed insignificance of the trial to which our first parents were submitted, answered, 224, 225 — ob- servations respecting the punishment connected with the scheme, 225, 226 — remarks thereon, 227 — obstruc- tions and difiiculties of our state cleared away by regarding man as in a state of probation, 228, 229 — ex- tract from his discourse on Provi- dence, 229 -231 — on the " Anniver- sary of the sons of the clergy," 231, 232 — before the corporation of the Trinity-house, 232, 233— from his ordination sermon, 233-235 — one of his Kensington sermons, 235, 236 — general remarks, 237.
Rio de Janeiro, notice of the cultivation of the Mandioca root near the city of. 32.
Romish corruptions, chronological statement of, 504, 505.
Sabatai Sevi, the pretended Messiah, account of, 44.
Salt, (H.) Essay on Dr. Young's and M. Champollion's phonemic system of hieroglyphics, 87 — notice of the researches of HorapoUo, Kircher, and Jablonski, ib. — remarks on the new
light thrown on the subject by Young and ChampoUion, 87, 88 — their error respecting the goose of the Nile cor- rected by Mr. Salt, 88 — omission in his alphabet, 89 — valuable criticism of Mr. Salt on the phonetic system, 90 — remarks on it, 9©, 91 — imperfec- tion of the phonetic tables, 92 — notice of professor Hammer's Arabic work, »6-. — names of ancient kings of Egypt deciphered by Mr. Salt, 93 — charac- ter of the work, 94.
Scottish sabbath, picture of a, 161.
Sedjer-el-fush, notice of the, 464.
Shnidan, (Charles Brinsley) The songs of Greece, 1 — character of the poems, 8 — .extract from the " Tomb of the Klepht," «4. — interesting story of a mountain warrior, 9, 10 — specimen of the " Romantic Ballads," 10 — mar- vellous account of native exploits, 1 1.
Singular customs in the 17th century, 36.
South America, remarks on the mono- poly of old Spain, 330 — general ob- servations on the revolutions of, 340- 345 — defects of the constitution of Chili, 346 — gambling propensity of the people, ib. — general face of the country, ib. — remarkable facilities for the formation of canals and roads, 347 — extensive rivers of, ib.
Swinging-bridge, description of a, over the Tingalinta river, in Western Africa, 180.
Talec-tree, notice of the, and its uses, 204.
Tales of the Crusaders, 76 — comparative merit of the tales, 77 — extractsfrom them, with remarks, 78-86.
Thierry, (A.) History of the Conquest, &c. 274 — remarks on the declining reputation of Hume, ib. — review of the work, with extracts, 275-284.
Tobacco-plant of Western Africa, notice of the, 203.
Tommaso Piroli, the engraver, biogra- graphical sketch of, 399.
Usury, Mr. Jeremy Bentham's defini- tions of, 348, 349.
Usury laws, advantages to he derived from the repeal of the, 363.
Vaudois, Vallenses, or Waldenses, (church of the) silence of travellers respecting, remarks on, 378, 379 — origin of the name, 379 — ascribed by catholics to Peter Waldo, ib. — proof of its existence 70 years before his excommunication, 380 — doubtful va-
666
INDEX.
luc of a manuscript confession, and a catechism quoted by Mr. Gilly, ib. — leading tenets of, extracted from a Ja- cobite writer of the 13th century, 381 — couflictingf assertions of their ene- mies repeating, ib. — remarks on the sympathy ex(»ted in Protestant states for them, 382— and on the conversion of Mr.Blanco White to Protestantism, 383 — spread of infidelity in catholic countries, 384 — assistance rendered the Vaudois in 1(>55, and at other pe- riods, 385 — account of the present condition of the Protestants of Pied- mont, 385, 386— picture of the esta- blished church, 386 — church govern- ment of the Waldenses, ib. — Mr. Gil- ly's description of Mr. Peyrani, late moderator of the Waldensian synod, 387 — remarks on his literary know- ledge, ib. — memorable declaration of the Jesuits, prefixed to their edition of Newton's Principia, 388 — notice of the power vested in the Waldensian synod, ib. — and of the grievous defect in their ritual, ib. — population of the Vaudois, 389— humiliating privations under wliich they labour, t6. — remarks thereon, 389, 3'JO. Veii, discovery of the site of the city of, 392, 393.
Waddington, (G.) Visit to Greece in 1E23-4, 1 — character of his work, 14 — notice of the Hcteria and their ini- tiatory oath, 15 — amiable anecdote of sultana Asma, fi.— contempt in which the Turks are held by the Greeks, 16 — siege of the]Acropolis described, ib. its capitulation, 17 — merciless massa- cre of the Turks, ib. — account of the birth and rise of Odysseus, 18- character of prince Mavrocordato, 19_stricture3 on the conduct of colonel Stanhope, ib, — anecdote of
Gourra, 20 — remarks on the utility of the Greek committee, 21 — observa- tions on the probable result of the struggle, 22-24.
Wainwright, (Rev. L.) Studies and pur- suits of the university of Cambridge, 510 — attempts of a certain class of writers to enlarge upon the defects of the English universities, strictures on, 510 — reason for thinking that the ob- servations of Bacon are not applicable to the universities of the present day, 511 — sketch of the course of instruc- tion pursued at the university of Cam- bridge in the time of Bacon, and of the important changes which have since taken place in our academical system, 511-524.
Waldenses. See Vaudois.
Western Africa : — description of the Bagiis, or Bagos, 193 — of their dress, and houses, ib, — also of the Fulas, 193, 194— extent of their territory, 194 — character of the Puis, 195 — their schools, and manufactures, 196 — dress of the different tribes, ib. — their shape and stature, 197 — account of the na- tives of BondO, ib. — their mode of wai'fare, 199 — revenue of the ImJim of Bonda, 198 — form of government in the Fdla states, ib. — original inha- bitants of F6ta Jallon,19y — notice of Bondti, and of the bloody warfare between Bondil and Karta, 200, 201— diversity of soil, 201-20.3 — vegetable productions, 203-205 — description of the amusement called Kongo-roog, 205 — of a curious ferrying vehicle, 206 — of a council of war, 208. See Gray, [Major W.)
Verba, or tea plant of Paraguay, notice of the, 333.
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