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KiSis 


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1 


,    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. 


XfO- 


^iP^^ 


7.'Ofqoi4,l3  tu  ex, 

T    >.nod(hib/  __._ 


jto? 


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 


Scotch  Novels.  163 

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 


/ 


Scotch  Novels,  ]£l| 

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  ; 


Scotch  Novels.  157 

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: 


Scotch  Novels.  161 

'* '  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." 


Travels  in  Western  Africa.  1T7 

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 

VOL.  I.  N 


178  Travels  in  Western  Africa. 

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. 


Travels  in  Western  Africa.  179 

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 


180  Travels  in  Western  Africa. 

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 


Travels  in  Western  Africa.  181 

,  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. 


182  Travels  in  Western  Africa. 

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. 


Travels  in  Western  Africa.  188 

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 


184  Travels  in  Western  Africa. 

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 


Travels  in  Western  Africa.  t^ 

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 


WBl  Travels  in  Western  Africa. 

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 


Travels  in  Western  Africa.  18T 

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 


18^  Travels  in  Western  [Africa. 

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 

:_  Li — 


•,  u  - 


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 


400  Pepys'  Memoirs. 

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 


Pepys'  Memoirs.  401 

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. 


402  Pepys'  Memoirs. 

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 


Pepys*  Memoirs.  403 

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. 


404  Pepys'  Memoirs. 

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- 


Pepys'  Memoirs.  405 

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." 


406  Pepys'  Memoirs. 

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 


Pepys'  Memoirs.  AOl 

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. 


408  Pepys'  Memoirs. 

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 


Pepys'  Memoirs.  409 

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. 


410  Pepys'  Memoirs. 

"  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 


Pepys'  Memoirs.  421 

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. 


A%^"  Chandler's  Lectures. 

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 

VOL.  I.  2  L 


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. 

•^l2 


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. 


Chandler's  Lectures. 

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. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


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