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THE

DUBLIN REVIEW.

VOL. IV.

PUBLISHED IN

JANUARY ^ APRIL, 1838.

LONDON:
BOOKER & DOLMAN, 61, NEW BOND STREET:

AGENT FOR IRELAND:

M. STAUNTON, 80, MARLBOBOUOH STREET, DUBLIN*

EDINBURGH : W. TAIT*

ia38. ^^ LIBRIS

ST. BASIL'S SCHOLASTICATE

C. BICUARUS, raiNTEBj ST. MiBTlN'8 LAMB.

CONTENTS

or
No. VII.

Art. Page

L Storia di Corsica da Filipum, revista e publicata da

1, C. Gregori. App. faniiglia Pozzo di Borgo. Milan,
G835 - 1

II. — 1. Die Religion der Romer nach den Quellen dargestellt
von F. A. Hartung. The Religion of the Romans
sketched from its Sources. By F. A. Hartung. 2 vols.
8vo. Erlargen, 1836. ....

2. R. H. Klausen, Phil. Dris. in universitate Fridericia Wil-
helmia Rhenana Professoris publici, de Carmine Fratrum
Arvalium liber ad patrem Theoph. Ern. Klausen cett.
solemnia expleti per quinquaginta annos muneris cele-
brantem. Svo. Bonnee. 1836 . . -

3. Rudimenta Linguee Umbricse ex Inscriptionibus antiquis
enodata. Scripsit Dr. G. F. Grotefend, Lycaei Hanno-
verani Director. IV. Particulas. 4-to. Hannoverse.
1835-1837 ...--.

4. De Morum in Virgilii i^neide habitu, Scripsit Dr.
Laurentius Lersch. 8vo. Bonnae. 1836

5. De Originibus historiee Romanae seu de antiquissimis
carminibus historicis, de legibus regiis atque de coui-
mentariia regum scripsit Christiauus Petersen, Ph. Dr.
et Philologiae classicse Prof. publ. in Gymnasio Ham-
burgensium academico. ^to. Hamburgi, 1835

6. Jus Pontificium der Romer. Von K. D. HuUmann. 8vo.
Bonn. 1836 .._.--

7. Uber Begriff und Wesen der romischen Omen and iiber
dessen Beziechung zum Privatrechte. Von Joh. Fallati,
Doctor der Rechte. On the Notion and Nature of the
Roman Omen, and its reference to law. By F. Fallati,
Doctor in Law. 8vo. Tiibingen. 1836-

8. Grundlinien zur Geschichte der Verfalls der romischen
Staatsreligion bis auf die Zeit des August. Eine litte-
rarhistorische Abhandlung, von Dr. Leopold Krahner.
Historical Outline of the Decline of the Public Religion
of Rome down to the time of Augustus. A Treatise
for Literary History, by Dr. L. Krahner. (A Pro-
gramme of the Principal Latin School at HaJle, pub-
lished by Dr. M. Schmidt, Rector of the same, 16th
March 1837). 4to. HaUe. 1837 - - - 33

ii CONTENTS. [Jan.

Art. ^ rage

III. — 1. England and America : a Comparison of the Social and
Political State of both Nations. 2 vols. 1833

2. Report from the Select Committee (of the House of
Commons) on the Disposal of Land in the Colonies :
with Minutes of Evidence and Appendix. Ordered by
the House of Commons to be printed, August 20th, 1836

3. The First Step to a Poor Law for Ireland. By H. G.
Ward, Esq. MP. 1837

4. First Annual Report of the Colonization Commissioners
for South Australia. Ordered by the House of Commons
to be printed, 25th July, 1836

5. The New Zealanders. Library of Entertaining Know-
ledge. .----.

6. The British Colonization of New Zealand: being an
account of the principles, objects, and plans, of the New
Zealand Association. (Published for the New Zealand
Association.) 32mo. 1837 - - - - 63

IV. — Premier Memoire sur les Antiquites Chretiennes, — Pein-
tures des Catacombs. Par M. Raoul Rochette.— Extrait
du Tome xiii des Memoires de I'Academie des Inscrip-
tions et Belles Lettres, 4-to. Paris. 1836 - - 96
V. — 1. La Chanson de Roland, ou de Roncevaux, du xii Siecle.
Publiee pour la premiere fois, d'apres le manuscrit de la
Bibliotheque Bodleienne, a Oxford, par Francisque Mi-
chel. 8vo. Paris. 1837. - r
2. Roman de la Violette ; ou, de Gerard de Nevers, en vers
du xiii Siecle. Par Gibert de Montreuil. Public pour
la premiere fois d'apres deux manuscrits de la Biblio-
theque Royale Par Francisque Michel. 8vo. Paris.
1834. &c. &c. &c. .... 105
VI. — An Introduction to the Scientific Labours of the Nine-
teenth Century. By Henri de St. Simon. 2 vols. Paris.

1808. 138

VII. — I. The French in Africa, 8vo. pp. 50. -

2. Correspondence with His Majesty's Ambassador at Paris,
and Communications from the French Ambassador in Lon-
don, relative to the French expedition against Algiers - 179
VIII. — Quelques Considerations pour servir al'Histoire du Mag-

netisme Animale. Par A. Fillasier. Paris. 1 832. &c. - 202
IX. — The Allocution of His Holiness Pope Gregory XVI, ad-
dressed to the Consistory of Rome, 10th Dec. 1837 - 232
X. — Speech of the Eari of Mulgrave in the House of Lords,
on Monday, 27th of November, 1837, on the Motion of
the Earl of Roden for certain Papers referring to tlie
State of Ireland - - - - - 246

Miscellaneous Intelligence.

CONTENTS

No. VIII.

Art. Page

I.— The Dublin University Calendars for 1833-4-5-6-7. - 281
II.— Tracts for the Times. 3 vols. London. 1833-6. - 307

III. — The Lives and Exploits of English Highwaymen, &c.
drawn from the earliest and most authentic sources.

1834. 335

IV. — Glance at the Institution for the Propagation of the

Faith. London. 1337. 368

V. — Pedro of Castile. A Poem. By H. J. Shepherd, Esq.

London. 1838. 393

VL — The Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. By Jonathan
Binns, Assistant Agricultural Commissioner on the late
Irish Poor Enquirj-. London. 1837. - - - 407
VII. — The Modern Egyptians, &c. By E. W. Lane, 2 vols.

London. 1836. 440

VIII. — Irish Tranquillity under Mr. O'Connell, my Lord Mul-
grave, and the Romish Priesthood. By Anthony
Mevler. M.D., M.R.I.A. Dublin. .... 461
IX. — The Bishop of Exeter's Speech. Mirror of Parliament.

1838. ' - - - 485

X. — 1. Tales of Fashionable Life, &c. By Maria Edgeworth.

2. The Wild Irish Girl. Miss Owenson.

3. O'Donnell; Florence Macarthy; O'Briens and O'FIa-

herties ; and National Tales. By Lady Morgan.

4. Tales by the O'Hara Family. First and Second Series.
By John Banim.

5. The Croppy.

6. The Collegians.

7. Tales of the Munster Festivals.

8. Traits of the Irish Peasantry. By William Carleton.

9. Rory O'More. By Samuel Lover. - - - 495
XI. — Summary Review of French and Italian Catholic Litera-
ture, from September 1837 to March 1838. - - 547

Miscellaneous Intelligence .... - 559

THE

DUBLIN REVIEW.

JANUARY, 1838.

Art. I. — Staria di Corsica da Filipuni^ revista e puhhlicata da
G.C.Gregori. App. famiglia Pozzo di Borgo. Milan. 1835.

CORSICA, notwithstanding all its ancient and modern revo-
lutions, still retains two distinct classes, or rather castes, of
population. The towns and seaports are occupied by a mixed
Dreed of Italians and Catalonians; individuals, who, themselves
set apart as foreigners, remain strangers to the pride of national
independence, and passively submit to any change of domination
impose<l on them by circumstances. lo this portion of the
people, the descendants of the old Corsican lineage present a
striking contrast. They are principally semi-savage moun-
taineei"s; yet valuing themselves on their ancestors, their ancient
chiefs and nobility, zealously tenacious of their national freedom
and privileges, they look with jealous eyes on the alien settlers of
their plains and cities, viewing them as intruders to be ever
guarded against, lest, following the example of the European
colonists in their treatment of the Indian aborigines, such covert
encroachers on the island should finally expel its children from
their native hills and homes.

The Pozzo family, honourably ranked among the early and
haughty nobles, and originally seated in their mountain fastnesses,
for centuries inhabitea a small castle called Montichi^ erected
by the Moors, and resembling many still seen in Spain. A few
may also be found in France, on the heights near the Rhone.
In modern times, after the race of Pozzo had established them-
selves at the village Pozzo di Borgo, no great distance from
Aiaccio, the social intercourse naturally arising from the vicinity
of that city, gradually softened down the rough impress of tra-
ditionary clanship and liberty, long stamped by hereditary
custom on the name. By degrees its members relinquished
opinions and usages incompatible witli the advanced state of
civilization around them, and recognized the existing laws and
government of the country, so fully to the satisfaction of the
administrative power, that in 1775, when Corsica was united to

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. B

2 Pozzo di Borgo. [Jan.

France, they were declared entitled to all the privileges formerly
enjoyed by the aristocratic orders.

Charles Andreas Pozzo di Borgo was born 8th March, 1768,
and though, in accordance with the patrician custom of Corsica,
his education was entrusted to an abbe, one of the class of
teachers sometimes liable to store the minds of their pupils
with spiritual rather than earthly wisdom, the scholar's political
powers blossomed at a very early age. When the French
Revolution burst forth with that volcanic violence which electrified
the whole of Europe, the shock communicated to Corsica was
attended by the actual horrors of civil dissension. Happy to
acknowledge any government that promised equality of rights,
the families of foreign extraction, domesticated in the island, were
easily induced to receive with eager unreserve the new principle
promulgated at that epoch by France ; whilst the native moun-
taineers would adopt them only under certain conditions and
limitations.

At the head of the republican faction stood the houses of
Bonaparte, Arena, and Salicetti. The patriotic party were led
by Paoli and the youthful Pozzo di Borgo. The democrats
advocated the theory of universal liberty, as taught in the
philosophy of Mably and the lessons of Rousseau. Their
opponents sought only to fix the independance of their native
soil; or, in plainer terms, demanded the restoration of ancient
Corsica.

From the very commencement of the Revolution, young Di
Borgo took an active part in its proceedings. Louis the 16th
having convoked the nobility of Corsica, to draw up at Ajaccio a
statement of the islanders' complaints and demands, Pozzo di
Borgo, then only in the first year of his majority, received the
appointment of principal Secretary to the Assembly. Sub-
sequently, deputed by his countrymen, he bore their address of
congratulation and fraternity to the National Convention at Paris,
and was finally chosen to represent the province of Ajaccio in the
legislative body of France, formed after the dissolution of the
Constitutional Senate. His next turn in the political labyrinth
was an important step : he became a member of the Diplomatic
Committee under the presidency of Brissot. Looking at the
strange and anomalous speculations acted on by that Conunittee,
we cannot doubt in what school Pozzo di Borgo studied his early
views of diplomacy. The policy pursued by the foreign depart-
ment was entirely novel to Europe. In the revived spirit of
ancient Rome, all kings and potentates were treated with the
pride, haughtiness, and arrogance of superlative national great-
ness ; but the modern dictators forgot, that assumed dignity in

1838.] Pozzo di liorj/o. 8

language or meosures become ridiculous when not sustained by
constant success in arms, and the legislative assembly was utterly
deficient in those indis|H'nsiible energies of mind and action which
characterized later rulers. Ever vacillating, even in outward
seeming, timid, or imprudent; indolent and impetuous by turns; the
legislative body degraded and broke the power of royalty, without
possessing courage or vigour to annihilate it. The elements of re-
publicanism were called into existence, yet the feeble evokers
shrank from completing their work. At this period Pozzo di IJorgo
seldom ascended the rostrum, and his speeches were in the declama-
tory and bombastic style common to all the minor orators of the
revolution. Let him speak his best for himself in a few fragments
from an harangue delivered by him {16th July, 1792) on the ques-
tion of involving France in a general war. A project suggested by
two parties from motives " far as the poles asunder." By the court
of Louis, in the hope of obtaining for the king the military dic-
tatorship; by the Girondists, in the expectation that such an event
must lead to the establishment of a republican government.

In expressing the opinion of the diplomatic committee in favour
of war, the Corsican deputy said : —

" The independence of the German Confederation is naturally pro-
tected by France, who alone is able to defend it against the ambitious
views of Austria, yet that Confederation lias seen with delight the
league formed by our enemies for the destruction of our constitution.
The hostile armies have already deluged Germany. The league of the
North decrees general slavery to tlie whole of Europe, and sliows, in
threatening attitude, its covetous mercenaries clad in iron. Without
our interference, it will be easy for that league to carry into effect all
its arrogances. The French nation alone possesses the power to free
the world from that horrible scourge, and to return good for the
shameful carelessness or perfidious ill-will of those who regard with
indifference the extinction of all the seeds of liberty upon earth.
France, after having combated the common foe of mankind, will alone
have the glory of restoring that political harmony which preserves
Europe from general slavery. We all owe a great debt to humanity;
the introduction and maintenance of human rights on earth. Liberty
is rich enough in virtues and in talents to afford us abundant means to
pay off that debt. The hopes of our enemies are no doubt founded on
the transient dissensions of our parties, and they anticipate already the
disorganization of our government. No 1 we will not suffer their
malicious hopes to be realized, we must feel that a change in our poli-
tical institutions must necessarily be attended by an interregnum of the
laws, the abolition or paralyzation of authority, and by anarchy and the
unavoidable loss of liberty. Our vigilance, whilst it will inviol:ibly
preserve all the conventions and treaties we have engaged in, will, at
the same time, provide against any mischievous results arising from
them. In giving more stability to our government, we shall frustrate

B 2

4 Poxzo di Borgo. [Jan.

all the designs of malicious persons, who seek the gratification of their
own selfish schemes in social disorders and revolutions. Let us, there-
fore, unite power with prudence, and success is certain."

This was rather a fierce attack on absolute government, and
deserves the more notice as coming from the mouth of one who,
afterwards, with the determined perseverance of a mortal foe,
called forth the most destructive coalitions against France.

On the dissolution of the legislative assembly, Pozzo di Borgo
hastened to Corsica, and soon after his return, began, in
concert with Paoli, again to agitate the establishment of the
national independance. With the air of his country he appeared
to inhale anew the feelings and spirit of his ancestors. Once
rekindled, the fire soon spread, and the mountainous cries for
liberty were answered by the promise of their idol, old Paoli, to
regenerate Corsica into a commonwealth. The revolutionary
movements naturally excited much notice and anxiety among the
various parties whose opposite interests might be affected. In
addition to the exotic residents, including especially the families
of Bonaparte and Arena, there were the partisans of the French,
allied with the Parisian clubs, and of whom Salicetti was the
organ in the convention. "^I'heir measures were speedily taken.
Salicetti presented a formal accusation against Paoli and Pozzo
di Borgo, charging them with favouring systems and participating
in projects for effecting the separation of Corsica from France.
The result of this impeachment was a summons to the two
Corsicans to appear at the bar of the Convention and justify
their conduct.

From this time may be dated the seeds of that deep-planted
enmity which subsequently existed between Pozzo di Borgo and
Bonaparte; — that irreconcileable hatred, fostered in their re-
spective bosoms with a malignity that rendered Europe but a vast
arena for their warfare, and exercised in its effects, as will be
shown in the sequel, more influence than is generally supposed
on the events of 1814. The decree of the Convention reached
Paoli and Pozzo di Borgo at Corte, the capital of the mountains.
They were fully aware of the dangerous consequences that might
attend disobedience, but were carried away by the whirlwind of
popular excitement before they could deliberate and decide on
their proper course in the emergency. The departmental
commission declared itself permanent, whilst a national convention
took place at Corte. The assembled masses from the mountaitis
unanimously passed resolutions charging Paoli and Pozzo di
Borgo to continue the administration of the departments, without
paying any respect to the decree of the convention. This
document also expressed their sentiments relative to the families

1888.] Pozzo lit liorgo. 8

of Arena and Bonaparte, "che non era della dignity del popolo
Corso di occuparsi delle due faniiglie Bonaparte ed Arena, onde
le abandonna ai loro rimorsi ed alia publica infamia" — that it
was beneath the dignity of the Corsican nation to occupy itself
with the persons named, and left them rather to the visitmgs of
their own consciences and to public disgrace. The resolutions
were signed by 1,200 persons. All thoughts of reconciliation, or
an amicable adjustment with the French government, of course,
vanishtnl on the publication of the Corsican manifesto, and nothing
remained for the bold mountaineers but to assert their inde-
pendance, sword in hand, but the great superiority of the French
resources damped the most sanguine hopes of the brave adherents
to the cause. It is true (hat the leaders of the insurrection were
closely connected and in alliance with the English, who had taken
possession of Toulon ; but, on the other hand, that port itself was
hotly invested by the French, under the command of the very
Bonaparte whose name the insurgents had devoted to public
infamy.

Calculating the obvious probabilities, it seemed all but certain,
that the besiegers must succeed in forcing the English to evacuate
the place. In that case the victorious legions of France could
easily ensure a continuance of their triumphal career by over-
running the mountains of Corsica. What had the rural cienizens
to oppose against their invaders' battle array ? Not a tithe of their
foes' mere numerical strength. How then were they to combat
the additional odds, supplied by perfect discipline and flushed
with recent conquest? At this critical moment, however, an
English fleet appeared before Ajaccio, bearing offers of protection
ana aid ; provided Corsica would place itself under the supremacy
of Great Britain. Paoli, commissioned by his countrymen, went
on board, to treat with the welcome admiral, whilst a general
assembly was summoned, and accordingly met on the 10th of
June, 1794. A sketch of the proposed new constitution, based
on the principles of the Magna Charta of England, was laid
before the national convocation, 'llie most important points of
that constitution embraced the formation of two Chambers of
Representatives, a Council of State, and a Vice-king, with respon-
sible ministers. Paoli proposed Pozzo di Borgo as President of
the State Council, and presented him in the following terms:
" I will answer for him. He is a man as well qualified to guard
the interests of a nation, as capable of protecting a mountain
herd, and knows how to repel aggression by the argument of
arms." The Council of State was entrusted with the most
momentous aflairs of government, and Pozzo di Borgo eminendy
signalized himself, by the skill and varied talents he displayed in

6 Pozzo di Borgo. [Jan.

effecting the ardiious task of re-organizing the entire administra-
tion of the country. The judicial code presented a singular
mixture of Corsican and English laws, but admirably adapted to
circumstances, and including even the most humble interests of a
pastoral nation. That record remains a peculiar historical monu-
ment of the time and country, only to be understood and
appreciated by those who have visited Corsica, and studied the
character, manners, and customs of the people. The Anglo-
Corsican government existed only two years. England was too
remotely situated to supply, on all occasions, full and timely
protection. The few regiments transferred from Gibralter were
iound insufficient to enforce due submission and peaceful order
among the inhabitants of the towns adhering to the French
ascendancy.

Insubordination, animated as it was by the constant prosperity
of the Gallic arms, gained fresh strength every day, and threatened
to crush the scanty forces of Paoli. At length it became evident
that the tri-coloured standard would soon be raised even on the
towers of Ajaccio.

Pozzo di Borgo did not wait to witness the catastrophe. He
embarked in an English man of-wai', which bore him to Elba,
thence to Naples, and thence again to Elba. In the course of
his visits to that island he became well acquainted with its
localities, particularly the small territory of Porto Ferrajo,
whither he afterwards advised the allied powers to exile his
antagonist countryman. Napoleon. The frigate " Minerva"
subsequently conveyed Pozzo di Borgo to England, and he
remained upwards of eighteen months in London, enjoying all
the honours and distinctions justly due to the high abilities,
and firm fidelity, displayed by him during the two years he held
the reins of government in Corsica, under the guardianship of
England. While sojourning in the metropolis he formed con-
nections among the noble French emigrants, that ultimately led
to his employment in some secret diplomatic missions, which
progressively increased both in number and importance. The
year 1798 saw him in Vienna; France had then experienced
various reverses. The sway and the popularity of the Con-
vention were equally at an end, and the reign of terror had
sensibly diminished the enthusiastic spirit of patriotism through-
out the nation.

Strong symptoms of a reaction in favour of royalty began to
manifest themselves, and the white cockade was once more in
fashion among the higher classes. Perhaps the people, col-
lectively, did not desire a restoration, but they were wearied
and dissatisfied with an unstable government, that gave them

1838] Pozzo di Borgo. 1

vague measures and tiuie-serving laws, ever shifting with each
pre<loini nance of party.

The adverse foreign powers witnessed with exultation the
spread of general discontent in France, especially when, at the
same time, they had the satisfaction of knowing that Bonaparte,
with the furmidable remainder of that invincible army, which,
led by him, had carried defeat and dismay through all Italy, and
along the banks of the Rhine, was seeking glory in the deserts of
far-aistant Egypt.

At that period France had lost all her republican conquests,
with the exception of a few points on the Alps. Suwarow was
marching from victory to victory, and the fair partisans of the
,/leur de lift already waved their snowy handkerchiefs in antici-
pating salutation to the expected approach of that general, who,
no doubt, was the only man among all the martial foes of France
on whom the league and wrecked royalty itself, with the whole
train of its excited adherents, founded their confident hopes.
During the crisis in question, Pozzo di Borgo took a most active
and important part in the diplomatic movements linked with the
course of military action. At that time, in the flower of his age,
for he numbered only thirty years, he was continually traversing
Germany and Italy, to forward and sustain, by his cabinet
intrigues, the warlike oi)erations of the old Russian Field-
Marshal. His labours were in vain. The overthrow given by
General Massena, at Zurich, to the combined Russian and
Austrian armies, at once destroyed the fragile web previously
woven by fickle fortune. The allies were driven beyond the
frontiers, the coalition was dissolved, and Pozzo di Borgo gained
nothing by his indefatigable efforts beyond deserved credit for
his zeal, and the confidence of the Austrian Cabinet at Vienna,
where he afterwards fixed, for some time, his abode. In France,
Bonaparte, that embodied meteor of the age, suddenly re-
appeared from Egypt, and having advanced his first stride
towards supreme power, soon selected proper materials for a new
frame of government, and cemented a firm central administra-
tion. Order, at least, if not liberty, returned with him to
France. Bonaparte, in his rapid progress to greatness, certainly
did not forget his old Corsican friends — he remembered — but it
was to banish them. The Arenas, whom the Assembly at Corte
had consigned, with himself, to withering contempt, were partly
exiled, and partly given over to martial courts, in order, as it
should seem, to tear asunder the last ties that could bind him to a
country which had stigmatized, as one of the most despicable of
its sons, the man whom France emphatically termed The
Corsican. With what sentiments Bonaparte might regard that

8 Poxxo di Borgo. [Jan.

sun of Corsica, whose name the nation had placed in proud
brightness, beside the darkness of his own, can only be con-
jectured ; but the ruler of France knew him as a determined foe,
who, to the utmost, had exerted himself in combining the conti-
nental powers against his sway ; whilst the restless negotiator, no
doubt, felt his hatred increase against the aspiring First Consul,
when he saw him dictating to Europe the peace of Amiens.

After the flames of war were again lighted, Pozzo di Borgo
entered into the service of Russia, as an avowed and public
diplomatic agent. In pursuing that vocation he only obeyed the
impulse given him by nature, which had endowed him with an
acuteness of intellect, and a facility of manner, that, at once,
enabled him to penetrate the characters of others, and adapt his
own precisely to the purpose in hand. These peculiar gifts of
mind were now matured by experience and the study of man-
kind, and the expertness evinced in his first essays for the
interests of Russia, raised his name high in the political world,
and opened to him the path of his future brilliant career. The
Emperor of Russia conferred on him the title of State Counsellor,
and when a new coalition was forming against the audacious
soldier who had presumed to crown himself Emperor of the
French without obtaining the suffrages of the foreign Cabinets,
Pozzo di Borgo was despatched to Vienna, specially, to consoli-
date a closer alliance between his adopted sovereign and the
other potentates who entertained similar views. The ambassador,
however, did not long remain in Germany, for only a few months
elapsed before he repaired to Italy to represent, as Commissioner
of the Crown, his royal master in the military operations which
the combined troops of Russia, England, and Naples, were to
commence in southern Italy. But scarcely had the respective
quotas united themselves at Naples, when they were compelled to
separate, for the conqueror at Austerlitz imposed the peace of
Presburg, and Austria seceded from the coalition.

Pozzo di Borgo returned to Vienna, and thence to St. Peters-
burgh, where fresh military preparations were in progress.

Prussia would have shown itself wiser, had it joined the con-
federates during the rapid advances of the French in Moravia ;
when its cooperation previous to the battle of Austerlitz might
have produced opposite results to that memorable victory, and
the consequent close of the campaign.

When at length Prussia added itself to the league, its troops
were associated with the Russians, who were led by their Em-
peror himself, attended by Pozzo di Borgo, now created a
count, and attached to the nnperial person by his appointment as
Colonel de la suite. After the battle of Jena, the diplomatic

1888.] Pozzo di Borgo. 9

Colonel visited Vienna for the four (h time; expressly commis-
sioned to arouse Austria from the nolitical lethargy into which
she had fallen since the peace of Presbufg. But Austria was
not to be easily moved ; sad experience had taught her that peace
could scarcely be bought too dear from such an opponent as
Napoleon.

When Alexander found that his subtle agent was evidently
wasting his time and talents in vain eflurts to accomplish his
mission, he commanded his removal to the Dardanelles, that in
conjunction with the British ambassador, he might treat with
Turkey. The Count landed at Tenedos, whence, on the rupture
of the negociations. Admiral Sintawin received him on board his
own ship. There, the sword superseded the pen, and the
Colonel took so active a part in tlie naval engagement which
ensued between the Russians and the Turks, that his conduct
gained for him his first military decoration.

The period now arrived that saw Napoleon at the summit of
his glory. The sanguinary battles between Russia and France
were terminated by the jn-ace of Tilsit, where the two Emperors
frequently held amicable and personal intercourse, and the admi-
ration which the young Czar had previously felt for the won-
derful talents of Napoleon, began to assume an appearance of
friendship, and indeed open devotedness to an allowed and indis-
putable superiority, that astonished and even disaffected the old
Russian patriots, who regarded the admission of such feelings
and sentiments as a sort of suicidal treason, dishonourable to the
country, and offensive to themselves. The Colonel-Count saw
clearly, that the warm intimacy existing and increasing between
the monarchs, would soon render his continuance in the Russian
service unpleasant and perhaps dangerous.

At St. Petersburg!!, ho solicited and received a long audience
from the Emperor Alexander, when he frankly delivered his
opinions relative to the alliance of Russia with France, and on
the necessity of his own removal. The Emperor kindly endea-
voured to retain him, by an assurance that the treaty contained
nothing that could authorize the dismission of his best servant.

" Far from serving," answered Pozzo di Borgo, " luy presence can
now only tend to injure your Majesty's interests. Bonaparte is not the
man to forget early antipathies, and sooner or later, he will seize some
opportunity to demand possession of my person — a demand that your
Majesty's just and generous nature will, assuredly, not permit you to
comply with. Thus I should probably become the cause of a collision
between the two countries — a disaster which it ia my duty to prevent ;
though," added he, " I greatly doubt the durability of the present con-
coni between your Majesty and Napoleon I believe that time will

10 Pozzo di Borgo. [Jan.

prove his insatiable ambition incapable of repose, whilst a single con-
quest remains to be acliieved. You have now Persia and Turiiey
harassing your rear, with Napoleon ready, on the first pretext, to assail
your front. As s«»on as possible, free your arms from the entanglement
at your back, that they may be at liberty for your final, and, I trust,
successful, struggle, with France. I shall never cease to serve your
Majesty in my heart ; and my heart forebodes, that before the lapse of
many years, events will recall me in person to more strenuous duties."

Having obtained a gracious discharge, the Count, in 1808, was
once more at Vienna, when a new quarrel took place betwixt
Austria and France. History hardly presents a parallel to the
severe and reiterated contests between those countries. After a
series of defeats, prostrate Austria gains breathing time, by
submitting to all the sacrifices demanded from her by France.
Next year, invigorated and undismayed, she again lakes the
field, is again vanquished, and again heavy sacrifices are exacted.
All her deprivations, however, do not prevent her, after each
purchased respite, from renewing the combat, again and again,
until, utterly exhausted by dismemberment ana loss of blood,
she unwillingly drops the sword from her powerless grasp.
Pozzo di Borgo so energetically employed his diplomatic skill
and influence throughout the campaign of 1809, that, after the
succeeding treaty of peace had been ratified. Napoleon did him
the honour to desire th^t his ever assiduous countryman, who
had taken such pains in his affairs, should be placed under his
special charge, that he might properly reward the Count's un-
wearied toils. The emperor of Austria declined compliance,
but Pozzo di Borgo, perfectly aware that his royal visitor emi-
nently possessed a long arm and a strong hand, in cases where
he wished to obtain the attendance of any reluctant visitant,
modestly withdrew from the sphere of imperial hospitality, and
quitted Germany for Constantinople. The political exile sub-
sequently travelled through Syria, and after visiting Smyrna
and Malta, sailed from the latter place to England, and reached
its metropolis in October 1810.

The British Government welcomed the Count as a valuable
acquisition. At a time when there existed but slender ties, and
difficult communication between England and the continent of
Europe, the cabinet of St. James's could learn more important
facts, in a few hours, from the statesman who had conducted so
many public and private negociations of the first magnitude,
than they could obtain in as many months through uncertain
correspondence and doubtful information. The Marquis of
Wellesley had frequent interviews with Pozzo di Borgo, and
the Count pointed out the vulnerable part in Napoleon's over-

18S8.1 Pozzo di liorgo, 11

grown power, through which its vitaUty might be most advan-
tageously assailed. Most truly had he foretold to Alexander in
1807, that the peace of Tilsit would prove merely a truce of
arms. In fact, the political soothsayer retjuired no supernatural
second sight.

As deeply versed in the personal character of his great coun-
tryman as he was fully initiated into all the various mysteries of
cabinet intrigue, his keen and practised eye pierced far beyond
surfaces, glanced at once from measures to motives, and thus
enabled him to play the prophet with every probability in favour
of his prediction.

In 1812, the war between France and Russia broke out anew,
with exterminating fury. The myriads of Gaul passed the
Niemen, and spreading devastation in their progress, carried all
before them, with fire and sword, until old imperial Moscow
l>ecame a prey to the self avenging flames whose embers lighted
the funeral torches of the invading host.

Di Borgo remained in London, and resuming his official func-
tions, as the accredited agent of the Russian Emperor, success-
fully negotiated a renewed alliance with Britain. He was thus
left at liberty to carry his active duty to the feet of Alexander,
but in that point the oracle proved fallacious. Imperative policy
then forbade his return.

At that momentous crisis, the Muscovite monarch found him-
self compelled to sacrifice his own predilections and judgment
to the national pride and prejudices of his people. The patriotic
spirit of his rugged and discontented nobles, would only be
aroused to the preservation of Russia, by the restitution of what
they deemed tneir ancient and inalienable rights — the entire
command and executive power in everj' department of the state,
whether civil or military. The danger was far too pressing to
permit hesitation, and all the high offices of the empire, pre-
viously held by the more civilized and better educated European
foreigners, were transferred by the constrained autocrat to native
han(».

Pozzo di Borgo was not recalled by Alexander until after
the retreat of the grand army, and then he included Stockholm in
his route, that he might sound Bernadotte on the subject of
his joining the allied sovereigns in tlieir resolves against
Napoleon.

After an interim of five eventful and stormy years, the Count
again found himself before the Russian Emperor. They met at
Calisz.

The mighty legions of Napoleon had disap{)oared beneath the
ice of the l^eresina, and Alexander mourned, rattier than

12 Pozifo di Eorgo. [Jan.

rejoiced over the unparalleled reverses of his former friend.
The mental impressions of Tilsit were still vividly fixed in the
tablet of his memory. He still saw in the crowned soldier, half
deified in the Parisian cathedral of Notre Dame, the personified
Mars of the age. " My arms have not vanouished him," said
he to his Corsican confidant : " by the will or the Almighty, by
the protecting genius of Russia, the spirit of our ancestors, has
he been conquered. Let us remain satisfied with the victory
vouchsafed. It is enough. Let us not tempt a retributive
destiny by persecuting him." The wily statesman, far from
being moved by the pious and merciful sentiments of Alexander,
on the contrary, endeavoured to convince him that a more
worldly policy was absolutely indispensable to secure his own
preservation.

" Generosity," answered he, " would be here totally misapplied.
The opportunity which fortune now offers, may never again occur.
The secret societies of Germany are in full activity. Disaffection is
on the increase, even in France itself. Never were, nor ever will be,
nations and potentates in such a perfect harmony of designs and con-
centration of means to a certain end. The allied powers must profit by
the enthusiasm attendant on recent success before its influence evapo-
rates. The fallen Colossus must be wholly destroyed, or you, in your
turn, incur the danger of annihilation from him, if he is allowed time to
recover confidence, and renovate his now paralyzed powers."

Alexander's heart might waver ; but the Emperor was either
convinced or persuaded, and once resolved on the complete
destruction of Napoleon's despotic domination, he put in motion,
without delay, all the necessary means and available expedients
to effect that determination. The co-operation of Moreau was
requisite for the purpose of inflaming party spirit in France ;
the defection of Prince Eugene and Murat, to divide and di-
minish the forces of Napoleon ; and the alliance of Bernadotte,
to obtain the assistance of his military genius, and his 20,000
soldiers. Nothing was neglected to gain these auxiliaries over
to the confederacy. Moreau was promised the presidency of the
future French republic ; Murat and Eugene, the sovereignty of
Italy, which was to be divided between tliem ; while Bernadotte
was secretly flattered with vague hopes of seating himself on the
throne of France, when vacated by its present possessor. To
the known skill of Pozzo di Borgo was assigned the difficult task
of winning the accession of the crown prince of Sweden ; who
coquetted with the cause, without decisively declaring himself.
In the meantime the battles of Lutzen and Bautzen forced the
Russian army to retreat as far as Upper Silesia, — occurrences,
which, of course, tended to increase Bernadotte's irresolution.

1888.] Pozzo tii Dargo. IS

Aware of the consequences that might attend an irretrievable
step, especially if taken at a moment when the arms of Napoleon
were again turning the tide of victory, he lingered with his
army at Stralsund, and there watched the progress of events.
To Stralsund the ever prompt Di Borgo hastened, and at length
succeede<l in inducing the prince to commence open and active
operations, by accompanying him to the military congress held at
Trachenberg. There met the three most inveterate enemies of
Napoleon, to " talk of precious mischief" and exult in their
anticipated triumph over the immeshed and disabled lion. Mo-
reau hated in Napoleon the first consul ; Bernadotte, the
emperor ; and Pozzo di Borgo, the Corsican, the consul, and the
emperor, in the man. At this rendezvous it was resolvetl to
carry the war to the gates of the French capital, and to attack
Napoleon in the very heart of both his power and his weakness.
The congress held at Prague was a mere pretext for a cessation
of arms, an interval of repose, which all the belligerent parties
very much required, though none would acknowledge the neces-
sity. The allied powers, at that time, instead of being solicitous
to conclude a lasting pacification in the north of Germany,
entertained no such intention, or if they had any passing thoughts
of making peace, it was on the shores of the Rhine that they
purposed to dictate the terms.

I'heir favourable prospects were improving every hour. Fresh
ranks were daily added to their ai'mies, by bands of German
youthful volunteers, whose ardour in the cause of liberty was
now echoed by the whole nation, without distinction of age or
sex; while the minor masses of Napoleon suffered continual
decrease from desertion, caused by augmenting fatigues, and
dismay : so much so, that their emperor could no longer rely on
the devoted energy they formerly evinced under his command,
when they regarded his call to battle as the assured and unfail-
ing trumpet voice of victory. One hope still remained for Napo-
leon. The support of Austria might yet turn the scale in his
favour; but his own imprudence extinguished the flattering
gleam. In a confidential interview with Metternich, that
minister promised to obtain for him the co-operation of Austria,
under certain conditions, stipulating for his private interests.
Napoleon, unaccustomed to hear the language of demand from
any lips except his own, exclaimed, " How much does England
give you to play this part?" The offended minister bowed in
silence; but not low enough to raise the small hat Napoleon
had dropped in the heat of the conversation. A few days after
this interview, Austria joined the hostile alliance. The allied
monarcha were waiting with the utmost anxiety, at Prague, the

14 Pozzo (H Bcrnjo. [Jan.

decision of the Austrian court. It was eleven o'clock in the
evening, and one mansion contained, in a lower apartment, Nes-
selrode, Pozzo di Borgo, and Hardenberg, whilst, m the chamber
above, were the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia; when the
assembled parties were surprised by the arrival of a special
courier with the following laconic epistle to Nesselrode : —
" Austria is resolved and puts her troops at the disposal of the
allied powers." Their satisfaction may be easily imagined.

As the prospects of Napoleon became obscured, those of Pozzo
di Borgo brightened. He received a general's appointment ; a
rank he particularly coveted, as it enabled him to contribute to
the downfal of his countryman, as well in the field, as in the
cabinet ; and in his military capacity he joined Bernadotte, who,
with 90,000 men, Swedes, Russians, and Prussians, was then
covering Berlin.

The setting star of Napoleon's fortune yet shot forth a few
brilliant scintillations. The defence of Dresden was an almost
miraculous trait of warlike skill. The allied forces were re-
pulsed with dreadful loss, and Moreau was killed. But that
splendid achievement was followed by gross errors. The daring
of the French became undisciplined, and degenerated into
culpable rashness. The different corps, instead of acting in for-
midable conjunction dispersed themselves in separate warfare,
and the consequence was, that the whole force under Ven-
damme was cut off, and destroyed or taken, whileBernadotte and
Di Borgo compelled the other straggling divisions to a precipi-
tate and disorderly retreat. Napoleon then took up his position
on the Elbe. We will pass, without comment, the three con-
tested days on the battle field of Leipsic ; their results are well
known.

The allied powers were victorious on all points, and their
vanguards, though they had already established themselves on
the Rhine, soon began to move, though rather slowly and warily,
towards France.

Bernadotte marched towards Holstein, to invade Denmark,
and thence turned to Holland, whilst Pozzo di Borgo proceeded
to Frankfort to assist in superintending the course of the main
design. From Frankfort the allied powers began to examine
the moral, physical, and political condition of France, before
they hazarded the decisive blow. They found that the vast and
complicated engine of administration still moved unimpeded
throughout the country with perfect order and facility, in obe-
dience to the potent impulse originally given to it by the unri-
valled genius of Napoleon. The senate had voted as many
new levies as were demanded from them. The prefects of the

1838.] Pozzo di Borgo. 15

departments furnished their several contingents with oxactnew
and promntitude. In short, all the various springs of the exe-
cutive authority yet worked in as complete concord as if the liand
of tlieir great architect personally commanded them with pristine
vigour. But — "there an end." The enthusiastic patriotism
(if tl>e glory, of dying on the field of battle, for the grati-
fication of the self-aggrandizing views of Napoleon, deserved the
title) that had so long animated the million, was extinguished,
and all the former artifices successfully used by the government
to revive and arouse the national spirit, by official jjamphlets,
songs, and dramatic representations, fell far short of the mark.
Conscription, deprivation, and consequent weariness of war, had
palsied the energies of the people, and all panted for rest.

The members of the Regency were growing irresolute, or
timid, while some far-sighted politicians, such as Talleyrand and
others, were ready to give up a cause which they perceived was
more than half lost. In a word, all the internal evidences
appeared to favour an invasion. But were the allies ni entire
accordance with each other on its propriety, necessity, and utility?
Were they all alike interested in the consequences? Would
it be wise in Austria, who had now recovered all her former pos-
sessions, to precipitate the utter ruin of her Emperor's son-in-
law ? Could she behold with indifference the strength of Prussia
increased at the expense of France, when the preservation of
the latter's just weight in the scale of nations was essentially
necessary to the balance of power and equilibrium of Europe ?
Did not even England, the bitterest foe of Napoleon, already
begin to cast uneasy glances on the growing power of Russia?

All these clashing difficulties were fully felt and debated in
the conferences at Frankfort ; and, as the greatest obstacles were
ex])ected to arise from the English government, Pozzo di Borgo
was dispatched thither to meet and surmount them. He arrived
in London in the beginning of January 1814, bearing a mission
of a very delicate nature, most certainly; since it consisted in
convincing the Prince Regent and his cabinet of the moderate
wishes, and unambitious views of the Russian Emperor; and
farther to obtain the appointment of Lord Castlereagh, then
foreign minister, to the head-quarters of the allied sovereigns, to
join their counsels.

On this occasion Pozzo di Borgo was very differently received
than when he appeared as a refugee, seeking an asylum, or
merely as a man whose opinion was worth consulting on certain
topics. He now came in the character of a high and distin-
guished envoy, openly commissioned to treat witli his equals, on
the part of the allied monarchs. In the course of his first dis-

16 Poxxo di Borgo. [Jan.

cussions with Castlereagh, the latter intimated to him the expe-
diency of restoring the Bourbons to the throne of France.
" You know, my Lord," replied the Corsican, " that the sove-
reigns whom I represent are unwilling to pledge themselves to
any procedure strictly involving distant views. Let us first deter-
mine on the removal of Napoleon; an object too. obvious oot to
be contemplated by the king of Prussia and the emperor of Rus-
sia. When we have effected his abdication, it will be early
enough to think who shall be his successor ! " Pozzo di Borgo,
nevertlieless, visited the French princes, and when the Count of
Artois told him that it was his intention to place himself in the
head-quarters of the allied kings, he interrupted him by saying,
" By no means. Do not take so premature a step ! a step that
might materially injure our cause, but could not benefit yours.
Many difficulties are yet to be overcome. Let Napoleon be
safely disposed of, and the cry of ' Bourbon' will then do the
rest."

His mission prospered. At a dinner party, given in honour
of the agent of Russia, by Lord Castlereagh, his lordship, on
proposing the final toast, said to his guest, " Well, my dear
Pozzo, all is settled ; I accompany you, and am the bearer of
an autograph letter from the Prince Regent to your Emperor.
We shall all act in concert." Two days after, they embarked
for the continent, and at the end of three weeks reached the
head-quarters of the allies, in Baden. As the proceedings of
the confederated powers were now completely arranged, the in-
vasion was rendered inevitable. England had never recognized
Napoleon's imperial title ; he passed, in all official and parlia-
mentary transactions, either by the appellation of the common
foe^ or was simply termed the chief of the French government.
Pozzo di Borgo, therefore, found in Castlereagh a ready prepared
and easily guided assistant, in promoting his own plans relative
to the fate of Napoleon. The English minister, who was en-
trusted with full powers, based all his diplomatic propositions on
the principle that " France, — the conservation of whose national
integrity, unimpaired, was indispensable to the equally indis-
pensable, equipoise of European power, — should be reduced to its
ancient dominion." This maxim, admitted to its full extent, at
once abolished the imperial dignity, and annulled the acquired
rights of Napoleon ; thus removing him, and opening an oppor-
tune door for the restoration of the Bourbons, though the con-
cluding inference was not entrusted to the conveyance of a whis-
per, either public or private. The allied powers, profiting by
the sagacious counsels of Pozzo di Borgo, seconded by Berna-
dotte, now distinctly separated, in their various public addresses

1838.] Pozzo di Borgo. Vt

and manifestos, the interests of France from those of Napoleon.
All the proclamations issued by Schwarzenberc, and the different
commanding generals who had crosse<l the ilhine, were com-
posed in that spirit, and aimed at establishing the distinction.
In assuring to the nation its inviolable independence and a free
constitution, they wholly detached from France the person and
acts of Napoleon, and assumed his isolation as a necessary and
self-evident position. During the entire campaign of 1814,
Pozzo di Borgo remained in close attendance on the person of
the Russian emperor, and when overtures for peace were made
by Napoleon, at Chatillon, the diplomatist, who was already
engaged in negociations with Talleyrand and other influential
men, strongly urged that, instead of granting any truce, " the
armies should march en matite, and without loss of time, upon
Paris." It is certain, notwithstanding, that the allied sove-
reigns might have acceded to Napoleon's wishes, and opened
a treaty, if he had accepted the preliminary conditions pro-
posed by them ; but Caulaincourt receiving too late the instruc-
tions of Napoleon to give his consent to the articles in Question,
Pozzo di Borgo had employed the interim in totally changing
the pacific inclination of the Russian Emperor. " Napoleon,
or your Majesty must fall," he argued : " if you now grant
him peace, you undo all that has been done. You give him
time to regain all his former energies. You replace in his
hands all the weapons he lost, whilst wielding them against
yourself; and before the expiration of another year, you might,
perhaps, find him again heading his legions on the road to your
capital ; and, taught prudence by experience, attended with better
success."

Soon after, the allied sovereigns fixed their union still more
firmly by the convention of Chaumont, and the war re-opened
with increased vigour. The main army, according to the counsel
of Pozzo di Borgo, directed its march against Paris, and the
result was that the Enii>eror, accompanied by his counsellor, was
soon seen in the French capital.

We pass over the details concerning the occupation of Paris.
The cause of Napoleon became desperate ; he was abandoned by
all, except a few devoted soldiers who were determined to die
for him, though their deaths could not avert his fall. All parties,
whether Royalists or Republicans, in short, the whole harassed and
exhausted mass of the people, turned from him to look for peace;
and the sentiments of that general alienation publicly avowed
and disseminated by the Provisional Administration, to which
body Pozzo di Borgo was attached as commissioner from the
Russian monarch, no doubt hastened the overthrow of the

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. c

18 Pozzo (ii Borgo. [Jan.

tottering idol. The voice of the Parisian authorities found a
quick and cheerful echo in the bosom of the Corsican commis-
sioner, who did not fail to use it in the furtherance of his own
unalterable purposes.

Several military men of high rank endeavoured to induce
Alexander to treat with the Regency instead of the Government;
and it is not improbable that the Emperor, who still harboured
some friendly feelings towards Napoleon, would have given full
way to those emotions, had not Pozzo di Borgo been at hand to
restrain them, by representing to the irresolute potentate, that
" the Regency is, in fact, only another term for Napoleon him-
self, who is clearly rejected by the nation. Peace, with A/wi,
however hard and binding the conditions may appear at the time
he accepts them — peace never remains with him, unbroken, after
he is prepared for a renewal of hostilities. He whose heart sin-
cerely desires the tranquillity of Europe must insist on the
abrogation of the imperial power, and the removal of Napoleon."
This critical conference lasted two whole hours, and the Corsican
did not quit Alexander without exacting from him a promise,
that no negociation should be entered into with either Napoleon
or his family. No saoner had he obtained that assurance than he
hastened to the provisional ministers, and, addressing Talleyrand,
cried, in the fulness of his joy, " My dear prince, not only have
I slain Napoleon politically, but I have just thrown the last
shovelling of earth over his imperial corse !" Thus the Corsican
mountaineer had the heartfelt satisfaction of finding that the
goal, to reach which he had devoted the best years of his life,
and braced every mental and bodily nerve, was, at last, fairly in
sight. He attained it : his voice rang the knell to departing

freatness — his hand dug the political grave of the envied
Imperor ! ! ! What an extraordinary aestiny attended the
chequered fortunes of those two men. Born near the same spot,
and nearly at the same time, for there was but one year's
difference in their ages, they both quitted their native isle
friendless, in the broad worldly sense of the word, and almost
destitute of aught, save their talents, and a stock of hatred equally
shared between them. The first adventurer fought his way to
empire, and proudly placed on his own head the most lustrous
diadem in Europe; but forgot, in his elevation, that kings should
ever steep the contests of private life in the waters of oblivion ;
and employed the plenitude of his power to crush an individual,
then, comparatively, a worm, trailing to destroy, he yet forced
him to become an exile, wandering from land to land, until the
fugitive, gliding serpent-like through each vicissitude still nearer
to his prey, finally wove the net that brought his mighty foe to

18d8.] Pozso di lioryo. 19

eartli, daslutl the crown from his brow, and crippled for ever his
|)olitical and j^lorious career. Up to tliat moment the master
passion of reven«re had concentrated in Pozzo di Horgo every
ardent effort of his mind, and the most fervent aspirations of his
soul. He could now, like the merchant senator commemorated
by Lord Hyron in his " Two Foscari," have turned to his
ledger, and written against the deadly debt long due to him,
**piignto' — paid. 'J'he senate having proclaimed the abdication of
Napoleon, and the recall of the Bourbon dynasty, Pozzo di Borgo
was ap|>ointed by the allied sovereigns to acknowledge, in their
names, at London, the accession of the PrinceofArtoistothe throne
of the Louis's. This commission was entrusted to its bearer, not
only as a special mark of honour from his employers, but still
more on account of the delicate management required in certain
circumstances connected with its ostensible cause, which they well
knew the subtle and persuasive powei's of the Corsican were best
calculated to bring to a pros|)erous issue, by his faculties of
cogent argument and eloquent reasoning.

He was deputed to lay before Louis XVHI the undisguised
state and feelings of the nation, in all its political and moral
phases, and thus to prepare the " desired" king for the adoption
of a form of government according with the liberal ideas of the
day. The monarchs were |>erfectly aware that the ultra- royalists
would spare neither exertion nor influence, direct or indirect, to
induce the new sovereign to revive the offensive aristocratical
absurdities of former ages, and thus, perhaps, produce a collision
between the government and the governed, tnat might prompt
the multitude to repent the change in their political faith, and
return to the worship of their cast- off* golden image.

To guard against this danger was the true nature of Pozzo di
Borgo's present employment in an embassy of ceremony to the
Count of Artois. At Calais he hire<l a vessel, and hurried im-
mediately on board, where a singular meeting awaited him,
affording another instance of the remarkable instability of the
political principles and fortunes of statesnu-n. On entering the
cabin a stranger begged his permission to accompany him to
England, whither, he said, he was proceeding to meet Louis
XvHL "May I then ask who you are?" queried Pozzo di
Borgo. " I am the Duke I^arochefoucauld Liancourt" was the
answer. The astonishment of the questioner may be conceived,
when he found that his companion was a nobleman who had not
only injured Monsieur in the constitutional assembly, but had
since aggravated the offence by returning to him, from the
northern states of America, the insignia of the different orders
received from the Count of Artois on various occasions ; an

c 2

90 Pozzo di Borgo. [Jan.

insult that haughty prince was the last man in the world to
forget. The diplomatist treated him with great politeness, and
the Duke, previous to his expected presentation, took great care
to decorate himself anew with similar orders to those he had so
heroically despised in his fit of yankee republicanism. The new
French King, however, refused to see him, while he received
Pozzo di Borgo as a friend and benefactor. On their journey
to the French capital the ambassador had both the desire and
opportunity to accomplish his task, and its product was the
declaration of St. Ouen, the foundation of the subsequent
charter, which, despite its defects and inefficiencies, was a vast
concession to liberty, considering it wa^ given at a period imme-
diately succeeding the despotism of Napoleon, and was indebted
for its legitimate existence in France to an invasion by foreign
potentates, equally despotic. Pozzo di Borgo, after remaining
some time in Paris, as the representative of Russia, was sum-
moned to the great diplomatic conference held at Vienna.
Thence, he frequently turned a doubtful and unquiet look
towards Elba; and, at that distance, scanned, in imagination,
every movement of the illustrious prisoner. With presaging
eyes, he fancied he beheld him bursting his temporary bonds,
and, in the Assembly, vehemently pressed for his removal to some
more remote and secure corner of the globe. Whilst the congre-
gated statesmen were debating on the expediency of his proposi-
tion, they were suddenly called from their speculations by the
intelligence of Napoleon's disembarkation in France. Pozzo di
Borgo was the only member of the Congress whose amazement
did not ruffle his self possession ; he was prepared for such an
event; his evil bodings had already reproached him for recom-
mending a mere cage of rushes to retain the still untamed though
captive lion. His cool comment on tlie fearful news was, " I
know Napoleon — he will march on Paris. Our work is before
us. Not a moment is to be lost. He must be faced by every
attainable force, and the last fragments of his power and popu-
larity buried in the dust of irremediable defeat." His exhorta-
tion found willing hearers, and the allied powers advanced,
without delay, in consolidated masses. Napoleon tried every
effort, but in vain, to divide Russia and Austria, or either, from
the coalition. Goaded by disappointment, he was provoked so far
as to send to the Russian Emperor a copy of the secret treaty,
formed in March 1815, between France, England, and Austria,
against Russia ; but the only effect produced by the revelation
was the violent aversion to Talleyrand, it engendered, in the
mind of Alexander ; an antipathy that afterwards impeded some
important negociations, and m more than one instance broke off

1838.] Pozzo Ji Horyo. 21

the treaty. Pozzo di Borgo now roused all his faculties and in-
exhaustible activity, to aid liim in the final struggle with his still
formidable adversary, and was placed by his sovereign as the
agent of Russia, in the Anglo- Prussian army, forming the van-
guard of tlie allies. Napoleon, once more like his former self^
darted with the swiftness of lightning on the frontiers of Belgium,
long before his approach was expected. It is notorious that
Wellington only learnt the fact whilst amusing himself at a
splendid ball in the palace of Lacken. The British army was
instantly in motion, and a courier despatched to Bulow to hasten
his march. The French made their first successful attack on
the Prussians, under Blucher ; and Wellington was, in conse-
quence, forced to retire as far as the mountain of St. Jean, where
he fixed his position. There Pozzo di Borgo found him rather
anxious and restless. " How long do you calculate you could
maintain this post?" asked the former. " 1 do not rely much
on the Belgians," replied the general ; but I have with me a
dozen regiments, English and Scotch, resting on this hills ; I
could defend myself the whole day, but Bulow must be here
before five o'clock in the afternoon."

The vanguard of Bulow's corps, in reality, showed itself at
three o'clock, and the announcement doubly animated the un-
flinching courage of the English, who withstood the repeated
attacks of Napoleon with an unshaken pertinacity that decided
the battle, though they were but indifferently supported by the
Belgians.

VVaterloo was won, and Napoleon had quitted his last martial
field. Was Pozzo di Borgo content? By no means; there
were circumstances attending the victory, that, to him, allayed
the triumph. The Russians had not taken any share in that
glorious and decisive action ; indeed, at that moment, they were
scarcely on the frontiers of Germany. In this posture of affairs,
Wellington and Blucher might decide the fate of France without
consulting either Russia or Austria. The shrewd Corsican slept
not. He selected a young Russian officer, serving in the
Prussian armv, and told him in confidence, " Alexander must be
informed of tfiis victory within eight and forty hours ; no matter
how many horses are killed in the time, your future fortune may
depend on it." Though wounded himself, he immediately fol-
lowed Wellington to Paris, and resununl his ijortfolio, as Russian
Ambassador at the Court oftheTuilleries, where he found, as his
unerring sagacity had anticipated, that the star of Russia already
" paled its ineffectual fires" before the ascendant victors, and that
he, as a minor satellite, was no longer treated bv Louis XVIII
with the same personal distinction as in 1814. The occupation

25? Poz20 di Dor go. [Jan.

of the French capital by the two laureled generals had rendered .
them all powerful. The Cabinet of Talleyrand was formed under
the auspices of Wellington, and both those statesmen had pre-
viously given their support to the secret alliance, which, as
already mentioned, had been disclosed by Napoleon to
Alexander.

In the subsequent pditical arrangements, Russia would most
assuredly have played a very secondary part, if the arrival of
Alexander, with 250,000 bayonets, had not entirely changed the
aspect of the Parisian horizon. The disgust of the Russian
Emperor to the former ambassador of Napoleon at the Court of
Vienna (Talleyrand), was so invincible, that it was with difficulty
he could be induced to receive even any pre'iminary proposals
emanating from that minister. Nevertheless, France itself
actually stood greatly in need of the interposition of Alexander,
to protect it, in some degree, from its other friends, England,
Prussia, and Germany, who were inclined to make a profitable
use of their recent conquest, and drain, most exorbitantly, the
veins of the bleeding country. The first official notes of Castle-
reagh demanded for England no less than the cession of a series
of fortresses along the Belgian frontier, from Calais down to
Maubeuge; while the Germans modestly asked Alsace and
Lorraine.

Thus embarrassed by claimants, Talleyrand turned to the
Russian Emperor, and endeavoured to win his protection for
France, by tempting his ambassador with an elevated post in
the French administration. He offered to Pozzo di Borgo not
only the ministry of the interior, but obtained for him from
Louis XVIII the dignity of a peer of the realm.

All these ventures, however, were wrecked at the time, on the
unconquerable distaste of Alexander to Talleyrand; and the
Emperor insisted, in the first place, that the foreign portfolio
should be entrusted to a man of his own choice, and with whom
he could treat in mutual confidence. He named the Duke of
Richelieu, — designated him as the best Frenchman, and a most
sincere and honest man. Talleyrand was obliged to yield, and
a new cabinet was constructed under the presidency of Richelieu.
From that hour the Russian ascendancy soared above all compe-
tition, and from its delegated throne controlled all public affairs.
Alexander assumed the character of a mediator, perhaps umpire,
in all the political transactions of that period, and exercised his
powers very favourably for France, whose national integrity,
situated as it is in the centre of Europe, the Russian cabinet
deemed most essential to the interests of their own country, in
case of a collision with other sovereignties. The influence of

1838.] Pozzo di Boryo, fS

Pozzo di Borgo naturally increased with that of his liege lord,
nor was France any loser by either. The general treaty of peace,
harsh and oppressive as its provisions proved, might have been
much more so, had its terms been dictated by England and
Prussia only. There is extant a letter of Richelieu, relative to
the subject, which reflects great credit on that minister's
patriotism and heart. It is dated November 21, 1815, and says —
" All is completed. More dead tlian alive I yesterday affixed my
signature to the cruel treaty. True, I had sworn not to dishonour my
name, and so told the king, but that unhappy prince conjured me, with
tears in his eyes, not to forsake him. From that instant all hesitation
was at an end. I feel confident that no man would have acted other-
wise in my place, and that the salvation of France, which was suc-
cumbing under the yoke hardened upon her, required the sacrifice.
The liberation of our country, I am assured, will commence to-morrow,
and be gradually accomplished. — UicnELiEU."

By this dictated treaty, France resigned a few possessions on
the frontiers, and was to continue occupied by foreign troops
until it paid the last instalment of the 700 millions of francs, due
to tlie allied powere for the vast expenses incurred by them in
the war of liberation ; but, after all, it preserved itself distinct
and undivided, retained Alsace and Lorraine, and maintained its
rank as a mighty and extensive kingdom. Alexander, on quitting
Paris, gave instructions to Pozzo di Borgo to support the French
government in all the true interests of their country. But the
court royalist party soon begati to abuse the rights recovered for
them abroad. The purity of the royal white standard was sullied
by its partizans. In the parliament the Bourbonites and Re-
publicans embraced the most opposite, and each the most itltra^
views ; on the one hand threatening the introduction of un-
mitigated despotism ; on the other, publishing the advent of
democracy, if not of anarchical " order-orderless." At this con-
juncture, it was the pen of Pozzo di Borgo that drew up, with
the approbation of De Cazes or Richelieu, the ordinance of the
5th of September, and even laid it before Louis XVIII. This
ordinance seasonably reconducted the Restoration into the pru-
dent path of moderate measures. The salutary results that
crowned the counsels of Pozzo di Borgo could not tail to establish
the wisdom of his political views, and, at the same time, neces-
sarily extend the sphere of his influence, which he continued to
exert for the welfare of France. His intercession, principally,
prevailed o.i Alexander and Wellington to relieve the nation
from several rigorous stipulations in the late treaty, concerning
the heavy contributions, and the occu}>}»tion of the territory by

94 Pozzo di Buryc. [Jan.

foreign forces. On this point, it must be confessed that rumour
has not scrupled to attribute his services on the occasion to
motives not wliolly disinterested ; and date the origin of his pre-
sent immense fortune, and large possessions, from the success of
his negociations at that period.

Whether this particular scandal be true or false, all the world
knows that gratijicat'tons to ambassadorial agents are neither un-
common, nor, in the circles where they circulate, considered as
iniquitous, and that they even form a legal chapter in the budget
of constitutional countries, under the euphonious title of " diplo-
matic gifts;" to say nothing of the kindred items oi secret service
money. After the congress of Aix la Chapelle, where the full
emancipation of France was effected, Alexander became visibly
alarmed at the indications of democracy which manifested them-
selves throughout Europe. During his short sojourn in Paris,
on the close of the congress, he frequently conversed with Louis
XVIII on the wide-spread disturbances and tumultuous erup-
tions, especially in the German universities ; and the instructions
he gave to Pozzo di Borgo, before his departure, were of a
nature to repress, rather tlian raise the liberal party. Hardly
had the Emperor left Paris, when a new cabinet was formed
under the presidency of Desolles. Pozzo di Borgo refrained
from attacking, publicly, the principles of the new mmistry, imtil
liberalism became associated with assassination, and the Duke de
Berri fell by the dagger of Louvel. Then, unable to control
bis indignation, he strongly expressed his sentiments, with a
feeling that was supported by the whole diplomatic body. Alex-
ander had not deceived himself in his apprehensions. The spirit
of revolution extended its visitations, and under different shapes,
and characteristic modifications, passed through the whole of
Europe. In Germany, Republican agitations were carried on
by the students of the universities, that led to the assassination of
Kotzebue. In Russia, dissatisfaction broke out in the Imperial
military guards. The same spirit showed itself in England
among the working classes ; and in France, in the grammar
schools. Naples, Piedmont, and Spain, had already forced upon
their kings new constitutions and other liberal novelties ; and
there was scarcely a state or province where the people did not
remind their governors, in rather forcille terms, of the liberal
promises held out to them during the impending perils of war.
ITiese appearances, however, ot a general revolution, were
speedily banished by the wand of power, and the evanescent
semblances served only to call forth more oppressive and coercive
spells from the menaced monarchs.

At the sight of danger the holy alliance renewed its ties of

1888.] Pozzo di Boryo. ^5

friendship, some of which time had beffun to loosen. In France,
the administration of the liberal Richelieu passed from him into
the tyrannous hands of Corbiere and Vill^le, and Pozzo di
liorgo was forced, by the stern will of his Emperor, to give his
support, not only to that cabinet, but to the invasion of Pied-
mont, by the Austrians, and the asserted urgency of a French
expedition into Spain, the results of the congresses of Troppau,
Laybach, and Verona. Ferdinand VII had been reseated on his
throne, and Alexander, who certainly possessed a just claim on
the gratitude of that prince, accordingly, took good means to tax
it for his own advantage. England need not be told that it was
ever the aim and ambition of Russia to attain influence and
weight in the south of Europe, at the expense of Great Britain ;
and to forward those ends, Pozzo di Borgo was despatched to
Madrid to pave the way for the cabinet of Zea, who had been
gained to the Russian interests during his long residence at St.
retersburgh as the consul-general for Spain. The ambassador
fulfilled his instructions to the letter. Ferdinand dismissed his
confessor, Saez, and the chosen of the Czar came in his place,
'llius commenced the close alliance of the two courts, whose har-
mony was only interrupted by the death of Ferdinand, and the
re-action which followed it. Pozzo di Borgo returned to Paris
at the time when the Restoration began to indulge in serious
follies.

The military promenade of the Duke of Angouleme across
the Pyrenees, had mentally intoxicated the cabinet, which no
longer believed in the existence of any danger, and began to
harass the nation with unpopular laws, apparently uncalled for,
except by the sheer wanton exuberance of power. At this
period the influence of the Russian Ambassador had totally
vanished, and all Pozzo di Borgo could do, or did, was to ob-
serve, shrug his shoulders, and indulge himself in forming a sort
of drawing-room opj)osition. He was heard one day, in the
course of aiscussion on the diminution of the public rent, to ob-
ser^'e, " The King of France is resolved to be the richest prince
of Europe, but 1 fear he will have to live on his accumulated
wealth in exile. I greatly apprehend the approach of some
terrible catastrophe, for never were civil rights assailed with
impunity."

After the death of Alexander, his brother Nicholas succeeded,
not only to the throne, but to the opinions and sympathies of his
predecessor. Nesselrode remained at the heaci of the cabinet,
and Pozzo di Borgo continued ambasstidor in Paris. Two years
afterwards, when Charles X formed the government of Mar-
tignac, Pozzo di Borgo exerted himself to bring into the

26 Pozzo di Borgo, [Jan.

niinisti-y Count de la Ferronaye, then French Ambassador at St.
Petcrsburgh. It was then of great consequence to Russia to
have in the foreign department, at Paris, a high official devoted
to her interests. By the convention of theGlh of July, 1827, the
independence of Greece was resolved on. Russia had deeply
wounded both the pride and importance of the Porte, and the
investment of VVallachia and Moldavia soon produced an open
breach between the two nations. The Russian Ambassador
quitted Constantinople, and the war, which became inevitable,
might have led to very momentous results for Russia, had Great
Britain declared for Turkey, and embraced her cause with
zealous earnestness.

The instructions Pozzo di Borgo received on the occasion
from Nesselrode, were framed to induce the French govern-
ment to co-operate with Russia in the east ; or, at all events,
should the ministry evince a stubborn indisposition to take an
active share in the war, then to prevail on them to guarantee an
armed neutrality, and thus keep, in case of need, an effective
check on both England and Austria. To recompense France
for conditions so advantageous to Russia, the latter detailed plans
of procuring for her ally, from Holland and Prussia, the cession
of the provinces bordering the Rhine. Either these visions
appeared to the I'rench cabinet mere castles in the air, or
from some other causes, the negociations melted away, in
fair words, momentary projects and nugatory offers. In the
meantime, the march of the Russian hordes was not signalized
by either its rapidity of progress, or accompanying success. The
situation of Pozzo di Borgo, therefore, in Paris, became uneasy
and critical. All reports on the subject spoke only of the alleged
defeats sustained by the Russian army ; but the Emperor's am-
bassador never for a moment wavered in his confident opinion
that the enterprise would terminate prosperously ; and he re-
peatedly exclaimed, " Patience, my friends, patience ! The road
may be difficult and dangerous, but be assured, we shall find our
way to Constantinople !'' At the end of twelve months the
Russian vanguard appeared before the gates of the Grand
Signior's city !

Again a change took place in the councils of France, and the
cabinet was remodelled under the presidency of Prince Polignac,
who was devoted, with heart, head, and hand, to the court of St.
James's. Pozzo di Borgo, with his accustomed power of political
augury, early foresaw the approach of those tragical scenes which
were really presented in July 1830. Previous to that epoch,
he despatched courier after courier to his own court, plainly
prognosticating the pending and unavoidable denouement of the

1888.] Pozzo di liorgn. 27

acting royal and ministerial drama. His missives spoke with
such a profound certainty of the advancing disasters, that the
Russian Kmperor communicated his apprehensions to Mortemart,
then the French Ambassador at St. lVtershur<;h, and abruptly
told him, " Your king is committing great follies. Very well !
He is certainly at liberty to do as he pleases in his own dominions
at present; but so much the worse for him, hereafter, if mis-
fortune follows his jiersistance in error. Tell him that the foreign
jM)wers will not support him. The torch of discord shall not be
lighted throughout Europe, to save obstinate blindness from the
consequences of a deserved fall !" The ordinances which led to
the concluding explosion and Finis did not reach the knowledge
of Poz/o di Dorgo until the 2oth of July, late in the evening, at
a private parly, and as a piece of private news ; but when they
appeareil on the succeeding day, in the Moiuteuri imbued with
all the insolence and venom of despotism, and he found that the
ministers were devoid of even the precautionary prudence of
backing their bravados with an armed and ready soldiery, he
could not restrain his amazement at their mingled presumption
and weakness. " How !" exclaimed he, " you undertake a
strife with the nation without troops ? Without being prepared
to fortify the bridges ? Without a single preliminary measure
that mav enable you to enforce your decrees, or to defend your-
selves?" " All is quiet,' was the reply. *' Quiet ! Yes ! to-
day, the sky is serene; to-morrow, its repose may be broken by
the thunder of musketry ; and the next morning, I shall, perhaps,
be obliged to demand my passport."' All the diplomatists were
thrown into the wildest confusion. None of them, up to the
28th of July, had received any official communication from
Polignac. The ambassadors were left in the dark, to decide on
their choice in this dilenmia.

They therefore assembled at the Hotel of Pozzo di Borgo, to
determine their wisest couree. The Russian Ambassador wsis of
opinion, that the passing events had not yet assumed a suffi-
ciently conclusive character to justify any act that might commit
the sovereigns, wliom their ambassadors represented. He ad-
vised them to await the issue of the struggle, without taking any
public official step, unless the government should be shaken in
its legitimate foundations. They unanimously assented, and
agreed to adhere to his recommendation, at least whilst
( harles X refrained from addressing to them any formal state
document, imperatively requiring as solemn a reply. The
couriers were charged with despatclies to their respective courts,
importuning for clear instructions at this singular crisis, and
generally blaming the last acts of the royal government, as so

28 Pozzo di Borgo. [Jan.

far justifying the revolution. On the 29th of July, Talleyrand
stated, in a circular communication to the several foreign diplo-
matists, the motives which had influenced the Duke or Orleans
to accept the lieutenancy of the kingdom. The Duke, he said,
was actuated by stern necessity, in his receival of a provisional
regency, to maintain the integrity of government, and preserve
the legitimate rights of the Bourbons — himself boasting that
name : thus raising a bulwark against revolutionary violence,
and at the same time allaying the storm. At this period too,
strong eflPorts were made to obtain from Charles A and his
son a public and ostensibly voluntary abdication. The Orleans
manoeuvre was so dexterously dressed, and bore so fair an ap-
pearance, that the foreign diplomatists saw no reason for demand-
ing their passports. Indeed, they found themselves treated with
far more deference and respect by the new government, than
previously by the favourites of St. Cloud. Pozzo di Borgo
approved of the court expedient, which he declared well-managed.
But when the Lieutenant of France was proclaimed King of the
French, the Russian ambassador's continuance at, or departure
from, Paris, became a question of consequence. The ayes pre-
vailed, and he was persuaded to wait for instructions from his
court, while Louis Philippe wrote an autograph epistle to
Nicholas, in which he described himself as having been com-
pelled by lamentable events to ascend the vacant throne of his
ancestors. The cold reply given by Nicholas to the apologetic
letter, evidently showed his disapproval of the entire transaction.
The Belgian revolution, which immediately followed that of the
French, of course, served to aggravate, in the mind of Nicholas,
the example of la jeime France ; and a plan of offensive opera-
tions was already sketched out in St. Petersburgh, by which the
Polish army was to form the vanguard of the great host, intended
to chastise Louis Philippe. Pozzo di Borgo had even received
instructions to hold himself in readiness to quit Paris at a day's
notice. But as fortune .willed, the Polish insurrection broke
out furiously at Warsaw, and the Russian emperor directed his
ambassador to stay where he was, and, by temporizing, prevent
any intervention on the part of France.

This proved one of the most trying labours ever committed to
the Corsican's art throughout his long diplomatic life. The
Polish cause had awakened the sympathy of all generous minds,
and especially in France, where the popular classes of Paris were
excited to such a degi-ee, as to threaten the government with a
new rising. The fermented indignation of the people at length
actually began to vent itself in open acts of violence against the
representative of the autocrat. A turbulent multitude assembled

1888.] Pozzo di mrgo, 29

one evening before his hotel, with loud cries of " Vive les
Polonais I A bas lea Ilusses I" which were accompanied by
showers of stones, shattering the windows. In this exigence,
the whole of his retinue surrounded Pozzo di Borgo, and en-
treated him to send fur his passports, and secure his safety ; his
reply was — " The situation of tlie Emperor is difficult enough
already ; it must not be rendered more so by an untimely rup-
ture with France. This commotion is daring, but not danger-
ous, and satisfaction will be tendered for the insult. A vulgar
riot is not an act of state. We are accredited, not to the
canaiUej but to the constitutional authority." Next day the
Minister of the Interior paid him a visit, with every apology on
the part of the government ; and soon after a guard of safety was
stationed before the ambassadorial hotel. Could the notes issued
from the French cabinet on the Polish question, in passing through
various hands and processes, have assumed the mild manner of
friendly remonstrance, rather than the bearing of hostile threats ?
It is certain that they seemed not to affect the Corsican arch-
politician with any emotion, beyond the most soothing senti-
ments. On all points he was prepared with an answer. " Let
us first," he blandly said, " give time to my court to restore peace-
ful order in Poland. Then we establish a regular intercourse
on the details of the subject, and our negociations will be easy."
They were. No sooner had the innumerable masses of Nicholas
eflfectually quelled the Polish patriots, than Pozzo di Borgo's
diplomatic style became equally brief and lucid ; he declared
that " His master, the emperor, would never permit any foreign

{rovernment to interfere in the public or private management of
lis states, and that none but himself could claim a right to decide
on the destiny of his subjects." This note remained unanswered,
but the tender mercies of the emperor towards his subjected
Poles, speak in a voice that may yet be heard !

Strong and tenacious in his aversion to the Royalty sprung
from July, Nicholas now instructed Pozzo di Borgo to indicate
imperial estrangement, by a coldness approaching to disrespect.
He was to absent himself from court, and on particular occa-
sions, when the members of the diplomatic corps usually tendtred
their personal congratulations at the Royal Chateau^ he was
charged to plead indisposition, and seek the benefit of country air.
In this case, duty and inclination were rather at variance, and
Pozzo di Borgo was so much attached to the Parisian circles,
that he tried nis utmost to effect a good understanding between
the two courts. In all his official reports, he placed the proceed,
ings of the quasi-legitimate government in the best possible

30 Pozzo ill Jiorgo. [Jan.

liglit, and indeed carried liis favourable exposition of French
affairs to such an extent, that he drew on himself the suspicions
of his court, which no longer either required or wished a con-
tinuance of his tranquil views and conciliatory agency. Petty
diplomatic aspirants, therefore, were secretly dispatched from
St. Petersburgh, to watch the movements of the Corsican, and
discover the foreign policy of France.

New difficulties, however, soon arose, that rendered the farther
exercise of Pozzo di Borgo's flexile talents indispensably necessary
in their present field. War was on the point of recommencing
betwixt Russia and the Porte, l^he alliance formed by the
subtle Talleyrand between France and England, might become
troublesome to the designs of Russia. '1 he ambassador was
consequently released from his political seclusion, and permitted
to shine again at court, thus tacitly intimating to Louis Philippe
that the Emperor was now sufficiently satisfied with his conduct
to include him in the confidential orb of cotemporary sovereigns.

Pozzo di Borgo was even authorized to mention the possible
union of a princess nearly related to the Emperor, with an here-
ditary prince of France. As it was always a darling project at
the Tuilleries to intermarry the sovereign's sons into the royal
families of Europe, there can be no doubt that such a proposal
highly flattered the younger line of the Bourbons; and the
Russian despot was in consequence allowed to carry his ambitious
views into the East, without incurring an inquisitive gaze from
the French cabinet, who purposely closed their eyes, and covertly
aided the aggressions of Russia by their negligence and supine-
ness. How, indeed, could they intermeddle with a friendly
Emperor, who was presently to be bound to France by kindred
ties? But when the mutual volume of politics was subsequently
reopened at the article " marriage," Pozzo di Borgo having, in
the meanwhile, maturely weighed the proprieties, gave his
judgment, that a parity of national interests should ever con-
stitute the chief ingredient in an alliance between governments,
matrimonial unions forming but an inferior knot in the mighty
fastenings of society. He, nevertheless, did not doubt that
Russia would always feel honoured by proposals of intermar-
riages with princes of the ancient race of the Bourbons. The
King of the Barricades had already grown too unpopular with
his own nation, to alienate so potent a power as Russia by any
show of resentment, and Louis Philippe found it advisable to
pocket the affront, and ally himself, afterwards, with the family
of Nicholas (through the house of Wurtemberg) despite the
Emperor's dissent.

After the conclusion of the Oriental war, Pozzo di Borgo was

1888.] Po2zo Jl Borgo. 81

conimissione<l to visit London, and ascertain the precise state of
affairs in the cabinet of St. James's. Having prevented France
from taking any share in opposing the strides of Russia, he was
now to sound the depths of the Tory party in England, and
learn whether there was any likehhood of their regainnig power;
and though the resident and accredited ambassador of Russia was
then Prince Lieven, (or, as the wicked world buzzed, the Princess
Lieven) yet more consequence was attached by the court of St.
Petersburg!! to the services of the wily Corsican, whom it was
difficult to deceive, than to the easy and too honest German.
Pozzo di Borgo neither visited nor associated but very slightly
with any of the Whig statesmen ; he principally limitecl his con-
ferences to his Grace of Wellington and Lord Aberdeen, who
were the leading organs of Toryism on all foreign questions.
The two veteran champions (in war and diplomacy) of the great
alliance against " the common foe," Wellington and Pozzo di
Borgo, in their first interviews recalled to memory, after an in-
terval of eighteen years, many interesting events and i>ersonal
anecdotes, which naturally enough led to a revival of those old
companionable feelings of friendship, on which, perhaps, the
tooth of time had somewhat preyed.

Ho|>es were, at that period, entertained by the Tories of the
Duke of Wellington's recall to the supremo councils ; but those
dreams were soon broken ; for a few months later, the quadruple
alliance was formed, by which France became more closely
united with the Whig ministry, and the ministry itself more
popular and powerful. Conscious that the views and opinions of
the Whig party were inimical to those encroachments on the
rights of other nations, inseparable from their ambitious aims of
unceasing aggrandizement lor their own, the Russian cabinet
now found it more than ever necessary to place as ambassador at
the British court an agent fully capable of penetrating and coun-
teracting, by plausible subtlety and pliant skill, the plans of the
English government for crossing their wide-spread schemes.
It was scarcely possible to find a man better qualified for the
task than he whose diplomatic generalship had hitherto never
been foiled in the service of his adopted land. How far his
manoeuvres have succeeded oven with matter-of-fact John Bull,
may be judged from the inactivity of the ministry, though yet
terme<l Whigs, in their opposition to any of the various masked
intrigues carried on by restless Russia. His appointment to the
embassy of England was accepted with great reluctance ; debi-
litated by age and illness, Pozzo di Borgo cherished the hope of
closing his earthly career in Paris ; in whose lively salons alone
he appears to recover all his youthful energies, and displays
talents of the first order.

8f Pozzo di Borgo. [Jan.

In familiar intercourse, his language, which is at first reserved
and cold, gradually becomes more animated, eloquent, and even
oratorical. He then exhibits all the vivid fancy peculiar to the
natives of the south, and the Corsican accent in conversation adds
effect to his wit and keen satire. But those who wish to open
his heart, and elicit his sentiments as a man, divested of his
diplomatic habits, have only to introduce the recollection of his
parental mountains, and lead him back to Corte ; he will then
relate all the history of Paoli and the general convention of the
pastoral people ; his gestures then become animated, and his eye
flashes forth the olden rays of boyish patriotism. In short, you
no longer see in him the worldly diplomatist, but the national
mountaineer. His wit is neither so easy nor so caustic as that of
Talleyrand, but more genuine and dignified. Altogether, his
disposition is of a more serious cast; he never sports with the
principles he professes, but acts up to them in their full extent,
as a self-imposed and solemn duty. His peculiar skill does not
lie in attacking or refuting the opinions of^ others, but in giving
them imperceptibly a direction favorable to his own views.

His memory though inexhaustible, is nevertheless no magazine
of anecdotes, like that of the Bishop of Autun. It may be called
a reservoir of annals. Indeed, his mind is so completely stored
with memoirs, that they flow from his lips, as it were, with every
respiration. He is the breathing history of his age, and may be
most advantageously consulted on all political points connected
with it, for he is one of the few living men who have witnessed
the entire career of Napoleon, and every event linked with his
fortunes. He, too, has viewed the mighty scenes with an eye and
in a spirit very different from the general biographers of that
mundane prodigy, who, in the chronicles of the universe, still is,
and ever will be, until the final crush of worlds, " himself
alone!"

Art. II. — I. Die Religion der Romer nach den Quellen
dargestellt von F. A. Hartung. Tlie Religion of the Romans
sketched from its Sources. By F. A. Hartung. 2 vols. 8vo.
Erlangen. 1836.

2. R. H. Klausen, Phil. Dris. in universitnte Fridericia
Wdhelmia Rhennna Professoris publici, de Carmine Fratrum
Arvalium liber ad patrem Tlieoph. Em. Klaunen cett.
solemnia expleti per quinquaginta annos muneris celebrantem.
8vo. Bonnae, 1836.

18J8.] The Religioua System of the Ancients— Fate. 83

S. Rudimcnta I.inytnv Vmbriciv ex Jnscr'iptionibus nnt'iqiiis
enodata. Scripsil Dr. G. 1'. Grolefcnd, Lycji'i Ilannuverani
Director. IV. Particulas. 4to. llannovcra?. ISS.O-lHST.

4. De Mortim in linjilii dvneide hnhitu. Scripsit Dr. Lau-
rentius Lcrsch. 8vo. Bonnie. 1836.

5. De Oritj'niibus historiw Homame sen de anti(juissi»iis
canninibus hixtoricis, de legihus retjiis ntqw de coininenturiis
regum scripsit Chrisiianus IVtcrsen, Pli. Dr. et Plulolo<ria2
dassica; Prof. pnbl. in Gynmasio Ilaniburgensium acaclcniico.
4to. Hamburg!. 1885.

6. Jus Pontificium der Homer. Von K. D. Hiilhnann, 8vo.
Bonn. 1836.

7. Uber lietjrijf und Wesen der romischen dmen und liber
dessen lieziechuny zum Priratrechte. Von Joh. Fallati, Doctor
der Rechte. On the Notion and Nature of the Roman Omenj
and its reference to law. By F. Fallati, Doctor in law. 8vo.
Tubingen. 1836.

8. Grundlinien zur Gachichte der Verfalls der romischen
Staatsreiufion bis auf die Zeit des August. Line lUterarhis-
torische Abhandlung^ ion Dr. Leopold Krahner. Hislorical
Outline of the Decline of the Public Religion of Rome down to
the time of Augustus. A Treatise for Literary History^ by
Dr. L. krahner. (A Programme of the Principal Latin
School at Halle, published by Dr. M. Schmidt, Rector of the
same, 16th March 1837.) 4to. Halle. 1837.

"TTTE have introduced to the notice of our readers a number of
V\ books written, on subjects intimately connected, in the
same country, and almost during the same year. We can, how-
ever, assert that they were composed without any intercourse of
the authors, who did not even know the intention of their fellow
writers. Tlie second only has referred to the first in some notes
added after it had been completed, and it is itself mentioned in
the last part of the third. '1 ney all have arisen out of the want
generally felt of satisfactory treatises on the subject. But they
do not all follow the same method. In the first, an attempt has
been made to describe the whole 'religious system of ancient
Rome. The testimonies which the writers, and particularly the
poets of Rome, furnish upon the matter, are declared to be of a
very different value, because the writer believes the genuine
Roman character to have been destroyed during the war of Han-
nibal, and to have been almost forgotten in the age of Varro,
Virgil, and Ovid. Therefore, he pays very little attention to
those notices, which he thinks unsuitable to the general character
of the system : nor does he, if different accounts of the same
object are given, usually examine whether they can be united
with each other. He rather considers most of the accounts to be

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. D

34 The Religious System [Jan.

only the result of mistakes and unsuccessful attempts to explain
ceremonies, the real meaning of which had been lost. The
principles of the second work are directly opposed to this and to
the common prejudice, that Roman poetry is hardly any thing
more than a translation of Greek ideas into Latin verse. It is
founded upon the observation, that a more diligent enquiry shows,
in Virgil, Propertius, and Ovid, in Catullus, Lucretius, and even
in Horace, a multitude of peculiar opinions, that either are
perfectly unknown to the Greeks, or, at least, are delivered in a
certain mode of reasoning whicii differs most distinctly from that
of any Greek author, and of course will be discovered to be
indigenous to Italy, and especially to Latium. Accordingly, the
attempt is made to unravel these peculiar ideas, to separate them
from the Greek, and to restore the dignity of real poets to the
most eminent writers of the age of Augustus, by discovering in
their works the traces of popular feeling and prejudice, upon
which poetry ought always to be founded. The influence of the
Greek religion is acknowledged to have changed many native
opinions, but not to have utterly destroyed their Roman or
Italian character. The most ancient inhabitants of Italy belonged
to the same family of nations which is found in Greece and on
the western coast of Asia minor. Among these, the various tribes
who lived near the sea more particularly resembled each other :
those who dwelt in the mountains were distinguished by a
peculiar character. Both in Greece and Italy these mountaineers
occupied the lower part of the country, and subdued the in-
habitants. This revolution in Greece is called the migration of
the Heraclidae and the transformation of the Pelasgi into the
Hellenes : in Italy we observe the same in the history of the
Tyrrheni, Siculi and Dauni, who were overpowered by the
aborigines, by the Osci and Ausones.' Although by these events
Italy and Greece received new and, in many respects, distinct
characters, there was yet preserved enough of their original
features by which their relationship could be recognized. It was
this relationship that prevented the civilization of Italy from
gaining its perfection until it had united to itself that of Greece,
which had been developed at an earlier period, and which saved
the peculiar character of the Roman religion from destruction,
when it adopted the legends and fables of the Greeks. The gods
of Greece were too nearly akin to the gods of Italy to be excluded
from the sympathies and the devotion of the Romans : the concep-
tion of Apollo, in itself so beautiful, was yet not so foreign to the

(1) See Niebuhr's Roman History, vol. i. p. 69, 71, seq. 87, seq. Hallische All-
gemeine Encyklopadie von Ersch und Gruber, fortgesetzt von Meier ucd Kiimtz. —
Art. Osker.

I

1838.] of the Anclentu — Fate. US

inhabitants of Latium as to be rejected by them, althoupfh they had
not been accustomed to contemplate and worship the <leity in the
same form : the conception of Hermes was so elegant and
refined, so full of life and poetical ornament, that they gladly
adopted the fables resjx^cting him, in order to embellish their
native Mercury, the offspring of a much less vigorous fancy.
However, in introducing the legends and opinions of (xreek
poetry, the Romans did by no means forget their own. It is
curious to observe how the distiriguished jwets in the age of
Cassar and Augustus are governe<l by native opinion in rt^ceiving
and treating those, which they admire in the sublime works of
Homer, Pindar, and Sophocles. These national ideas, these
popular prejudices, though much more injured by philosophical
and rhetorical reasoning, which came to Rome together with
Greek pot^try, do not totally disappear before the flame of
outhful vigour dies away in the jwetry of Italy. It could not
ut die, when, in the disgusting time of Elagabalus, Italy was
overwhelmetl by the hideous cop.rusion of Asiatic superstitions ;
when the habit of speaking and writing Latin was lost in Latium
itself; and when the sickly cant of Greek phrases was the only
method by which a fashionable Roman could give utterance to
opinions generally perverse.

Accoraingly, the right way of discovering the true character of
the Roman religion, the real meaning of particular opinions and
ceremonies, will not be by choosing one among different reports,
but by endeavouring to unite them under their common point of
view. This is the means by wliich the author of the work we
speak of seeks to discover the meaning of the ceremonies per-
formed by the Fratres Arvales, as well as of the verses which
they sung in the temple of their goddess. These verses belong
to a very early period of Roman history ; thougii in their present
form they seem not to have been written prior to the age of
Sylla. Most of the words are easy to be understood ; some
others are doubtful, though all are not far removed from the
Latin language of that time, whicli is familiar to us.

The inquiry into the ancient forms of the Latin tongue can
not be conducted except by com{)aring it with the other
languages of Italy. A young German scholar. Dr. Henop, has
recently published a treatise on the dialect of the Sabines {de
lintjua Sahina, Altona*, 1887).

\Ve expect an excellent work, on the language of the Osci,
from a professor at Berlin. A considerable number of the
monuments written on that of the Umbri has been explained by
M. Grotefend in the work which stands third in our list. These
monuments are of the highest importance, because they them-
selves contain prayers and invocations to Italian gods. No one

d2

36 The Religious System [Jan.

can peruse these treatises and not confess that many single words
and grammatical forms of the Umbric language have been really
discovered by M. Grotefend.

In the treatise which stands fourth at the head of our article,
an attempt is made to point out the Roman customs and ceremo-
nies which are exhibited by Virgil. Its motto is taken from
Statins, who thus praises the Emperor Septimius: —

Non sermo Poenus, non liabitus tibi :
Externa non mens : Italus, Italus.

Abundance of matter of the same kind might be added to that
which has been collected here.

The commentaries of the Roman kings, which form a part of
the fifth work, and which we owe to Dr. Petersen, known by his
learned inquiries into the system of the Stoics, are important for
the history of the Roman religion, because all the sacred laws and
ceremonies of the Pontiffs were derived from those of Numa.
No religion of antiquity can be justly explained, but by com-
paring and illustrating together the fables and ceremonies which
belong to it. It was, therefore, even in this respect, a useful
undertaking to collect and interpret the various testimonials con-
cerning the latter; although the design of the author is rather to
inquire into the sources of our knowledge of political history. In
distinguishing the institutions derived from the several Roman
kings, he goes so far as to ascribe historical existence even to
Romulus (whose name he conjectures to have been a surname of
more than one Roman king) and to Numa. M. Hartung, on the
contrary, believes not only the names of Tullus Hostilius and
Ancus Martius, but even that ofTarquin to be merely alle-
gorical. Historical criticism, as it advances, may confirm many
parts of Roman history which have been suspected, while, on the
other hand, there is no doubt that many illustrious individuals,
who really existed, have, in poetical ages, and in times of a lively
religious feeling, received a symbolic character by being treated
in popular tales and songs ; yet both writers seem to have
exceeded the dangerous limits of liberal and sober reasoning.
This fault is by no means frequent in the inquiries of Dr.
Petersen. The benefits which we have received from his
researches on the books of the Pontiffs, will be enhanced by com-
paring them with those of Dr. Hullmann respecting their
authority in political and judicial affairs.

The seventh treatise contains an inquiry into the origin and
proper sense of the word omen, which is shewn to be the term for
every profane word, turned by a hearer to a prognostic of future
events ; and on the authority ascribed to such a prognostic in
Roman laws and judicial sentences. As all these were most

I

18S8.] of the Ancients— Fate. 87

closely connected with religion, the subject is well chosen. Tlie
enquiry demonstrates no ordinary degree of diligence and saga-
city, though we think it would have been still more advantageous
in explaining the character of the Roman religion to refer less
to a certain system of modern philosophy, which, however excel-
lent in itself, will always prove dangerous when applied to his-
torical and philological researches.

The systems of Ennius, of the supreme pontiff Qu. Mucius
Scffivola, and of M. Terentius Varro, concerning the Roman
theology, are develojx^d in the eighth treatise on our list. The
author acknowledges a political belief in public religion to have
coexisted with the attempt to explain its doctrines in a historical
or philosophical manner, undertaken by individuals in the last
centuries of the Roman republic. He shows, how both are
united in the mind of Ennius without destroying each other;
how philosophical reasoning begins to encroach upon public
faith ; and how Sca?vola seeks to re-establish the doctrines of the
latter, by separating it entirely from the religion of poets and
philosophers. This was a vain attempt, because the national
eeling and character had fallen more and more into decay.
Varro proves the deities of public faith, if justly considered, to
answer entirely to the religious wants of individuals, even in the
age of cultivated and refined philosophy.

We think that the religious system of the ancients will be
most forcibly illustrated by investigating a particular branch of
it. We will therefore insert our researches on a most interesting
subject of Roman mythology.

The PARCiE, OR 1''ata. — There can scarcely be found an arti-
cle of Roman religion, the history of which shows so evidently
its general tendency, as that of the Parcie. "^Ihe poets of the
classical age have all celebrated them in their songs. Beings,
supposed to govern fate, have been worshipped in ancient times,
but they were not looked upon with any particular devotion :
nor were they then introduced into fables or mythology. All the
importance ascribed to the notion of fate was founded upon the
idea of its being established by the great gods, the conception of
which is to be derived from contemplating the qualities of god
in a sensible and anthro|X)mor])hiLal form. In Greece the ori-
ginal notion of fate was different : the sisters, who were employed
ui allotting it, were as much adored in temples as they were
celebrated u) fable, though far less than many other allegorical
persons. These opinions and legends were received by the
Roman jx)ets, who made use of them in adorning the correspond-
ing figurt»8, which they found in their own country. By uniting
these different elements, and by enlivening those which they
borrowed from the Greeks with other domestic ideas of kindred
Roman deities, they raised the figures of their weird sisters to a

38 'Ilie Religions System [Jan.

degree of activity and personal individuality to which they never
attained in Greece.' Nor would they have obtained it in Roman
literature, had not the interest which the Romans took in the
gods of olden tradition, been long gradually on the decline.

The beings, which in Greece ruled the decrees of fate, were
merely allegorical. Whatever existed, the Greeks supposed to
have had a share in what is produced by Earth, the general
mother of all. They imagined that every element, every force,
even every quality and every portion of it, to have been animated
by a soul, the character of which corresponded exactly to the
nature of the matter. Such a soul was attributed even to time.*
The same was believed respecting the destiny of each being.
Such a destiny was called no'tpu : the same name was given
to the soul which animated it. Every one had his Moira:
the number of these souls was not less than that of the destinies
themselves. But every multitude of infinite variety is considered
according to the fundamental proportion of the triple number;
as three Muses, three Hores, three Graces, three luries, three
Moirai, are supposed ; the names of which are taken from their
qualities, that are to be ascribed to the portion of every body. In
each there is an internal connexion, to which is referred what-
ever happens to the person : this connexion, when considered like
spinning or weaving leads to the name of Clotho. In the same
share there is a certain peculiarity observed in regarding how
its single events are brought together by chance : this peculiarity
is named Lachesis, the proper expression for obtaining a lot.
It depends not on the will of man, either to avoid any of these
chances or to obtain what is not suitable for the internal con-
nexion of his share : this unavoidableness of destiny gives rise
to the name of Atropos.

These beings watch over the individual destinies of gods, men,
and beasts, even of plants and stones: they watch their boundaries:
they are merely active in the boundaries themselves, without any
free will and arbitrary choice. Therefore, even participles of
the passive gender may be employed as their general names : the
personified Moira (and Aisa) very often is called the Attributed,
Pepromene, Heimarmene: because she is nothing but the spirit,
which is active in the attributed destiny. The attributing origin

('2) The name of the weird sisters, as well as of the weird elves, the weird lady of the
woods (Percy's reliques, 3-220), contains the very root, which is found in the Anglo-
Saxon vyrd, the old Cierman wurt, wewurt, wurth, wurdh, the Scandinavian urdhr
and verdhandi, terms for destiny and its deities. — See Grimm's Deutsche Mythologie,
p. 228, sq.

(3) Pind. 01. II. 17, (ed. Burckh.) : Xpovos 6 Trdvrav Trdrrip. Eurip. HeracL
898 : TToXXa yap TitcTd Moipa T(\f<T<Ti8<liyr(ip AlavTf Kpovov irais. .£sch. Eum.
286 (ed. Porson) : Xpovos Kadaipti vdvra yrfpd(TKiav o/iov. Soph. Electr. 179 :
\p6vos yup fvfuipf}s 6(6s.

1888] of the Ancients— Fate. 89

of all is Earth, their general mother, by which every body is fur-
nisheil with materials : any arbitrary act of attributing can be

Practised only by the Olympian gods, whose father and king is
upiter, the only free being.*
If these spirits of destiny already allotted to creatures are
spoken of as allotting, this rhetorical phrase is the same, as when
we say, summer ripens fruit, although they are not matured by
any personal activity of summer, but by the united efficacy of
physical forces, which become conjoined during the time of sum-
mer. The difference between philosophical and mythological
reasoning is this, that the first ascribes only to coincidence, what
the last derives sometimes from this coincidence, and sometimes
from a personal power, the whole existence of which is contained
in regulating this coincidence. It is, therefore, often doubtful in
Greek authors, whether fioipa or Moipa should be written. It is
the same with an;, tptc, nay, with almost every philosophical
notion. Language itself personifies them by attributing an
activity to them, which mythology really believes to exist, but
which philosophy maintains to be merely allegorical. But even
in mythology there is always a wide difference between the
actions of such beings, the strength of which is to be found only
in coincidence of matter, and of such, in which it is to be derived
from a free act of volition.

We attribute activity even to the pronounced word : in Greece
it was believed to be animated by a spirit. No rumour related
by many persons can " be entirely lost : even this is a deity," as
we read in Hesiod.* The spirits of curses are difficult to be over-
powered ;* they are invoked to consider the domestic affairs f
they sit before the cursed man's eye ;* they have a peculiar resi-
dence under the earth." Most of these terms may be understood
figuratively, but in the last a real personality is distinctly indi-
cated ; they are identified entirely with the Furies, and intro-
duced on the stage by iEschylus. If words uttered by men
were thus gifted with being, those jpoken by the gods must have
been so in a higher degree.

(4) JEach. Trom. 60 : 'E\tv6*p6s ytip oCris «trri 7rXi7v Aioy. Cf. Eum. 660.
(6) llesiod. 0pp. Idl : 4>i]/ir; 5' otrrtr irafinav inrdXXvrat, tjvriva iroXXoi
Aaol ^fii^ataf 6t6t vv rit tari Koi avnj.

(6) JEscli. ChoBph. 649 : Q bvtnrdXaiart riv^t iufxarmv dpa,

Qr TT^XX' (iranas Kuicnoioiv tv Ktlfuva,
To^is irp6<Ttt>0tv fi<TKAjrois vtipovfuyrj.

(7) ^scb. Choeph. 386:"ld(rr noXvKpartis apai Kfituv^v

littrff ArptiiuvTa \oin afui^^ilyot
Exomra Ka\ dw/xdro)!' Arifia.

(8) JEsch. Theb. 695 : ^ikov yap *x6pa poi varpits riXtt apd

Xripois oxXavoTots oppacriv irpoai^aini.

(9) iBsch. £um. 41? : 'Apai d* tv oiKots y^t I'fra't KtK\rjpt6a.

4.0 Tfie ReUgioHs System [Jan.

Likewise in the Roman religion, fate is what the gods have
spoken : for the gods pronounce what they would signify, not
like men, who have one thought concealed in their mind, while
another is on their lips.'" Every single god establishes his fata:
the term is frequently explained by will : " but fate is more par-
ticularly the decree of Jupiter and the council of the gods." In
the Greek theology, it is said the lips of Zeus know not how to
speak false words, he fulfils his every word." Here the anger
of Zeus is introduced as a watching and avenging demon.'* The
words of men and their curses wander about as fiends. Thus,
according to Roman ideas, the sentences pronounced by Jupiter
are animated : the character of the spirits which act in them,
corresponds to the nature of the sentences themselves, exactly
as that of an elementary spirit answers to that of the element.
Though considered as female beings, they are called Fata in the
neuter gender.'* Fata are adored like other divine beings, that

(10) Serv. Virg. JEn. vii. 50: Nam dii id fantur quod sentiunt, non ut homines,
de qiiibus iectum est aliud clausiim in pectore, aliud in lingua promtum habere.

(11) Serv. Virg. jlln. i. 36 : Fatis Junonis iniqua;, id est voluntate; ib. iv. 614:
(fata Jovis), fata dicta, id est .(ovis voluntas, ergo participium est, non nomen. Cf.
ib. i. 303 ; iv. 110; viii. 292; vii 6'): (fato divuni) fato autem dieit voluntate.
Such a pronounced will we have in Honace, Carm. iii. 13, 17: Gratum eloeuta con-
siliantibus Junnne divis. .bellicosis fata Quiritibus Hac lege dieo. In Claudian,
(Rapt. Pros. ii. 306) Pluto says to Proserpina: Sit fatuin quodounque voles.
Nonius Marcell. vi. 4'2, p. 455 (ed. Mercer) : Actum, sicut communiter intelligitur,
significatiunem decreti liabet ; a doctis tameu indaganter invenimus positum esse
pro voluntate.

(12) Isidor. Orig. viii. 11, 90: Fatum dicunt quicquid dii fantur, quicquid Jupi-
ter fatur. Serv. Virg. ^Tln. xii. 808 : Juno scieus fatum esse quicquid dixt;ril Jupiter.
Cf. ib. X. 628: vox enini Jovis fatum est.

(13) .Slsch. Trom. 1032 : ^(vSrjyopelv yap ovk tniorTarat (rrSfui To Aibv, dXXa
irav (TTOS TfXfl.

(14) .^ch. Suppl. 646 : Alop eiriBofievoi Trpdicropd rt o-kottov

AvoTToXfprjTov bi> ovtis Bofios evot
'E7r* 6p6^(ov ptaivovra ' ^apiis O €<pi^ft.
The poet says, concerning the same matter, v, 385^

MfWi Tot Zrjvos iKTaiov kotos

AvoTrapaOf'kKTOis iradovros oucrois.

(15) Fatis tribus Varro aji. (itil. Noct. Alt. iii. 16. Procop. Bell. Gotth. i. 25,
p. 122, 12 (ed. Bonn.): e;^«t Sc (6 'lavos) rbv v(u>v iv rfi uyopa trph tov /SovXcv-
TTjpiov oKlyov xmfp^avTi ra rpia ^ara • ovrm yap 'PmpMioi ras Moipas vfvopiKuat
KoKdv. Stat. Theb. viii. 26: Fata seruiit animus et eoJera pollice damnant. (The
thumb alludes to the busine.'ss of spinning, attributed in later times to the Roman
Fata, as well as to the Greek moirai : Cf. not. 13. In the present note, we shall
cite only those passages in which the Fata are evidently spoken of as persons.) Stat-
Silv. v. 1, 145: Invenere viam liventia Fata. Martial, vii, 47, 8 : raptos Fatis red-
didit ipse colos. Auson. Griph. 19: tria Fata. Apulei. Metam. xi. vers. fin. : Fato-
rum inextricabiliter contorta 61a. Apulei. dc Mund. vers. fin. : scd tria Fata sunt.
Isidor. Orig. viii. 11,92: tria autem Fata fingunt Fronton. NepoL amiss.
p. 218 (Mai) : poets iiutem coins et flla Fatis assignant. Marcian. Capell. i. 15, 6 :
Fata vero ex altera (the thirteenth among the sixteen spheres of heaven) postulantur.
Fulgent. Myth. i. 7 : tria- -Fata, quarum prima Clotlio. Latin. Pacat. Panegyr.
xviii. 4: illi deo feruutur assisterc Fata cum tabulis. Albric. Deorum Imag. lU.

18S8.] of the AncienU-rFate. 41

were believed to possess physical or spiritual force. We may
freoiieiitly doubt wlietiier these Fata be considered as persons or
as things,'* because an action may be attributed in a figurative
sense even to the mere word. Nor is it in such a case of any
importance, for the context, whether they be thought persons or
not ; it may be only of interest in order to understand the poet's
view, and the true sense of the poetical term.

To attribute this establishing jwwer to the word, is an opinion
which we scarcely shall find so countenanced in any action of
anti(]uity, if we except the creating power ascribed to the word of
God in Genesis. Tne Romans believe no act, no ceremony, to
be available, unless the proper words of it be pronounced in the
proper moment. Without these, the offering of victims can be
of no use, nor the will of the gods be discovered. The prayers
of the Vestals can kt»ep slaves, who endeavour to run away,
within the city:" and prayers and certain forms of words can not
only move the mercy of the gods and change their resolutions,
but even draw them down from their celestial seats, and force
them to reveal what is required." Even in ordaining fate, the

Parcae seu Fata. Orell. Inscr. 1777: del>ita cum Fatis veneiit bora tribus. Or. ib.
1771: Fatis Qu. Fiibius Nysus ex voto. Or. ib. 1772: Fatis Octavia Sperala vojiiin
solvit lib»'ro miincre. Or. ib. 2132 : Fatis Cecilius fcrox filius. Or. ib. 4379 :
Fatis male iiuhcaulibiis. We read upon coins struck for Dioelesian and Maxiiniaii:
Falls viotricibus. Cf. Eckhel Doctr. Num. viii. p. 6. Wclcker. ZciUchrift fiir alte
Kunst, p. 233. Modern writers frequently make use of the form FatB. For this
we do not know anv authority. It is not a-^aiiist the eenius of the language; for
we find Fatus suus, Fatus malus (Ortll. Inscr. 2613, 4718) : however, if it were in
use at all, it was in a late age. The Italian word Fate, which is found in the tale of
the Three Faines, trf fate, who dwell in a cavern, and make presents to children
who come down, may be derived from the plural Fata iUelf. Afterwards,
when the plural Fate existed, a singular Fata may have been formed from this. The
French Fee, the Spanish Fida and Fada, the CJerman Fei, come from the same. —
Sec (irimm Deutsche Mythologie, p. 232. Diez Grammalik der Romanischen
Sprachen, p. 13. The form Fatus can be nothing but the demon, which act* in
ailotu-d fate, or allots it himself. It corresp<mds to lainwv, which frequently is
used for fio'tpa : for instance, Pind. Pylh. v. 114 : AmJs toi fxtyas v6os xv^pv^
itufiov dvifjUv (fiiXav.

( 16) As ill Horace, Carm. iv. 2,38: fatadonilvereboniquedivi ; ib. 13, 22 : Ciiiaro:
breves Annos fata dederunt. Pro|>ert. iv. 7, 51 : fatorum nulli revolubile carmen.
In all these, and many other passages, it would be more proper to consider the term
as the name of deities, and to write F<i/a, than to take it for fatu and established
law, as is usually done.

(17) PI in. Hist. Nat. xxviii. 33.

(18) Ovid. Fast. iii. 323 : quie carmina dicant Quaque trahant superis sedibus
arte Jovem, Scire nefas bomini. Then the poet, mentioning the ceremonies of Jupi-
ter F.licius, descrit>es bow Jupiter was drawn down to eartb and to conference with
Numa, who requires certain remedies against lightning : —

(la certa piamioa, dixit,

Fulininis, altorum rexque pater deum,
Si tua contigimus manibus donaria puris;

Hoc quoque, quod petitur, »[pia lingua rogal.
This be obtains from Jove (annuit orauti) ; uay, by a skilful iutcrprvtation of the law

42 Tlie Religious System [Jan.

word of man is of the greatest importance. A favourable omen
will not insure the promised benefit to him to whom the gods
have sent it, unless it be received by his word. A human head,
which had been found in the foundations of the Capitol, was a
sign of Rome's destiny to be the capital of the world. This
meaning being unknown to the Romans, they sent to Olenus
Calenus, the most famous Etruscan soothsayer, who endeavoured
to transfer the use of the omen to his own country. He deli-
neated with his staff the image of a temple on the ground before
him, and said : " Do you say this, men of Rome ? Here there
shall be the temple of Jupiter the most high: here we have
found the head." By these words, he would have transferred
the fate to Etruria, had not the ambassadors, admonished by his
child, answered : " Not hei'e, but in Rome, we say the head
was found.""

The three Fata, which were worshipped in Latium, are the
spirits, who live in the words of the gods. It is a mere rhetorical
figure, to introduce the spirit of the word pronounced as pro-
nouncing it.** As the Grecian Moira distributes destiny under
the government of Zeus, according to his laws and orders ; so
the Roman Fatum adjudges particular fates according to the
words of Jove. Divine law is established by the will and word
of Zeus : the goddess Themis, who is the spirit of this law, pro-
nounces her sentence under his authority and according to it.

Themis adjudges by words,*' and so do the Fata. Moira is
represented by the Greeks as deeply meditating, distributing,
determining, seizing, flattering, concealing, forging or whetting

pronounced by the god, with his own words he substitutes symbolic sacrifices for the
bloody one wliich the god would have required : —

Ca>de caput, dixit. Cui rex, paril)imus, inquit,

Cscdenda est horlis ciuta cepa mcis.
Adiiidithic: hominis, summos, ait ille. capillos.

Postulat hie aniniam : cui Numa, piscis, ait.
Risit et, his, inquit, facito meatela procuris,
O vir coUoquio lion abigende meo.

(19) Plin. Hist xxviii. 2, 4. Other examples, see in Fallati Begriff des Omen,
p. 26, sq.

(20) Examples of such figures are quoted, not. 16.

(21) Find. Isthm. vii. 31 : emev evfiovXos fv fif<roi<rt {dfols) Of nts. In Greece
the Woirai are introduced singing by Plalo Rep. x. p. 617, d. Hygin, f. 171 : cum
natus esset Meleager, subito in regia apparuerunt Parcae Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos.
Cui fata ita cecinerunt. Clotho dicit cum generosum futurum, Lachesis fortcm :
Atropos titiontm ardentem aspexit in foco etait: tamdiu hie vivit, quamdiu hie
titio consumplus con fuerit Cf. ib. 174: hue Parcse venerunt et Meleagro fata
cecinerunt. See not. 117. Hygin. Astron. ii. 15, med. : illo tempore Parca ferun-
tur cecinisse fata, quae perfici natura voluit rerum : dixerunt enim, quicunque The-
tidis fuisset maritus, ejus filium fore laude clariorem. Cf. not 107. All this quite
resembles the fatal sisters of the Scandinavian tribes, and the fairies of French and
German stories. See Grimm Deutsche Mythologie, p. 231, scq.

1888.] of the Ancientt—Fate, 48

the sword of vengeance ; often as spinning or weaving, because
they consider destiny as determined, allotted, imminent, over-
powering. Among these various emblems of her activity, she is
sometimes seen si)eaking, but this is an accidental emblem ;
while with the Romans it is the essential, the peculiar employ of
the Fata.

Instead of the fates allotted to men, the names of the gods
allotting them are oftentimes expressed. Thus we find men s
fates waging war against each other, the fates of the Greeks
against tliose of Troy ;" or against those of the gods, the fates of
the Trojans against those of Juno.* The fates oi single men may
be personified as well as the orders of single gods, which in such
a case are thought to be the servants of the latter.** Personified
fates of single men refer quite to these. Thus the notion of a
divine sentence begins to be obscured, the notion of fate begins
to be thought rather as substantial and independent. However
even those fates, which accompany or cause the wanderings of
men,** are frequently called ordinances of the gods.*

We have seen the peculiarity of fate, which in Greece is ex-
pressed by the name of Lachesis, the spirit of allotting and
obtaining, derived in Roman mythology from the power of the
divine word. Fate's permanent strength and firmness, which is
calletl Atropos in Greek, is here represented by the act of writ-
ing. In the last day of the first week after the birth of a child, the
parents invoked Fata Scribunda," — the destinies, that are to be
written down, — the spirits which they believed to act in those
decrees which the gods are about to adjudge to the child by their
words, and to establish by writing. Originally this act of writing
was attributed to Jupiter himself, wlio ordains fate by the

(22) Ovid. Heroid. i. 28 : illi (Acbivi) victa suis Troia faU canunt Virg. £d.
xii. 149 : nunc juvenetn imparibus video coiicurrerc fatis.

lb. 725: Jupitt-ripse duas aequato examine lances
Susiiiiet et fata imponit divcrsa dcoruin.
Therefore the deity of fate herselt holds the soalc, Pi-rsi. Sat r. 4B.
Noittra v«l ec^uali suiipendit tcmpora libra
Parca tenax veri.

(23) Virg. ^n. vii. 293 : fatis contraria nostris fata Phrygtim.

(24) Auson. Parental, in iEmil. Arbor. 22 : dicta>ti Fatis verba nounda mein.

(25) Horat. Epod. 7, 17; act^rba faUi Romanos aguut. Ovid. Fasu iv. 73: fatis
agilatus llalckus. Virg. Jt'.a. v. 709 : quo fata trahunt retrahuntque, sequamur.

(2(i) When it-'neas is called Fate profugus, there is added : mulluiu ille et terris
jactatus ct alto vi superum. Both are joined yet nearer. Virg. JEn. vii. 339 :
Sed nos fata deum vestras exquirere terra*
Impi-riis egen? suis.
(37) TertuIIian. de Annua, c. 39: in partu Lucina: et Diane i-sulatus : per totam
bt'bdomadcni JuDoni mensa propouilur : ultima die Fata Scribunda advocaotur :
prima etiam couslitutio infantu super terraoi Statins dec sacrum est.

44 TJte Reliyious Si/stem [Jan.

same act,** as Zeus does by swearing or by nodding. Usually, how-
ever, the spirits of fate are introduced writing what Jupiter com-
mands, as we have before seen them speaking. Thus this opinion
is peculiar to Italy, nor is it forgotten even in the latest period of
Roman literature. The Etruscan deities of fate are usually
represented with a pencil and a small bottle, as are the Parcae,
on Italian monuments;* the goddess of fate is seen writing in
Roman sculptures ; * Ovid describes the archives of the world
formed of brass and iron, erected in the house of the fatal sisters,
never to be destroyed, containing all destinies written in steel."
To this opinion Martial alludes as to one well known;" rheto-
ricians of later time make the Fata writers of Jupiter;" in Claur
dian, one of the sisters writes what is spoken by Jupiter ; the
second arranges what has been written : " other authors believed
one of the sisters to speak, the second to write, the third to
weave." This distribution of offices, however, was not the ori-
ginal one, but introduced by the classical poets, who adopted the
Greek idea : in ancient times, and in domestic poetry, both the
offices of adjudging and of writing were ascribed to the same
deities : a difference of name and of function was derived from
other opinions.

Each divinity decrees his own fates; those of mortals are
allotted to them : the number of destinies would, therefore, seem
to be infinite. But notwithstanding this variety of lots, the
general manner in which they are allotted by the gods and borne
by men, is not immeasurable. In Rome, as well as in Greece,
the triple number was considered as a fundamental proportion of

(28) Seneca de Provid. e. 5, 6 : et ipse oiDniuni condilor ac rectitr scripsit quidem
fata sed sequittir : semper paret, semel jussit.

(29) See Miiller Handbuch der Archa;oIogie de Kunst, § 398, 1.

(30) Mus. Capitol, iv. 29. Mus. Pio Clement, iv. 34. Millin Gallerie Mythol.
xcii. Nr. 382. Welcker Zeitschrift fur alte Kunst, p. 210, sqq. 216, 218.

(31) Ovid. Met. xv. 308 :—

iDtres licet ipsa Sororam

Tecta triuin, cernes i'.lic moliniine vasto
Ex a-re et solido rerum tabularia ferro,
Qua; neque concursum cceli neque fulininis iram
Nee nietuunt ullas tuta atque a?terna riiinas.
Invenies illio inelusa adamante perenni
Fata tui generis.
Jupiter reads them : legi ipse animoque notavi.

(32) Martial, x. 44, 6 : omnis scribiiur bora tibi.

(33) Latin. Pacat. Panegyr. Theodos. 18, 4.

(34) Claudian. Bell. Gildon. 202: Jupiter alto coepit solio, voces adamante nofa-
bat Atropos et Laehesis jungebat stamina dietis.

(35) Serv. Virg. yEn. i. 22 : una enim loquitur, altera scri bit, tertia fila deducir.
Recollecting all tbese authorities, we think it unnecessary to refer to Egyptiao
opinions, as has been done by Miiller (Denkmaler der alten Kunst, p. 54.) At least
such an Egyptian opinion was not without a corresponding one in Rome.

1888.] of the Ancients— Fate. 45

variety. We know there were three principal flamines, the
Dialis, Martialis, Quirinalis; three tribes of the Patricians,
Ilamnes, 'i'ities, Lueeres ; a triple distribution of the same into
tribes, curio;, gentes; three orders of soldiers in full arms —
hastati, principes, triarii ; a triple subdivision of the triarii ;"
the third part of the conquered territory was confiscated ; "
every matter, which was to be treated by the plebeians,
was promulgated in trinundinum; the guests of a banquet
were placed in triclinia; the auspices required the tripudium ;
there were three supreme goas of the Capitol. But in
the conception of this number, the Romans differed from the
Greeks. With these, we observe the same dignity ascribed to
every one of the Furies, the Moirai, the Hores ; one is as
powerful and as sacred as the other ; or if one be superior, the
two others belong lo different attributes : as when Zeus, Apollo,
and Athene, are associated, Apollo belongs to the piercing and
irresistible, Athene to the judging, intellectual faculty of their
father. Among the Romans it was customary, if three were
associated, to unite or to prefer two of them, and to subdue or to
oppose the third. Among the military orders there were two of
antesignani (antepitani); among the patrician tribes there were
two superior; the Luceres form the tribe of the gentes mi-
nores;" among the gods of the Capitol, Jupiter and Juno are
adorned with the same majesty ; Minerva is united to them in
inferior honour. They imagined two deities of fate for birth,
and a third for death.

The names of the first sisters are taken from the time of the
child's ripening in the womb of the mother ; Nona and De-
cima : for the tenth month was acknowledged as the legal time of
birth.* Authors differ respecting the name of the third: Varro
has called her Parca; Ca?sellius Vindcx, a writer of the age of
Tiberius, Morta.*" The etymological and philosophical expla-
nations of Varro are deservedly little esteemed: but, wherever
he deduces his remarks, not from reasoning but from learning,
they are, especially in Roman antiquity, both credible and
entitled to the greatest weight. In deriving Parca from parere,
he undoubtedly has offended against the just laws of etymology,
which had not then been distinctly established; a labour reserved
for modern times, in which all the languages of the same family
have been accurately examined and compare<l ; yet, even now,

(36) See Nii-buhr Roinan History, i. p. 531 ; iii. p. 117, sq.

(37) Set- the tame wurk, i. p. 462.
(3A) See the «aine work, i. p. 338.

(39) ProporL ii. 2, 3a Pompou. apud Nonium, p. 40, VennioRri.
(4U) Cell. N. A. ui. 16.

46 The ReligiouH System [Jan.

these laws are frequently violated by those scholars who yield
to the guidance of fancy in this broad path of conjecture. Nor
is there any doubt as to the origin of Varro's error; for,
observing Nona and Decima to be named from birth, he referred
Parca to the same ; he endeavoured to derive one idea fi'om the
three words, which he found in ancient songs or legends. If he
had not adopted these names as he found them combined in the
ancient religion, — if he had sought only for three goddesses
governing birth, whom he might have united to answer to the
number of the Grecian Moirai, — there is no doubt he would have
added Partula to the elder sisters, whom we find associated with
them in some old prayers mentioned by TertuUian.*' It is quite
impossible that Varro, in speaking of the birth -governing deities,
could have been ignorant of, or could have forgotten, Partula
and her established ceremonies. We must therefore reject the
opinion of M. Hartung, by which he maintains the number
of three Fata to have been introduced into the Roman religion
by Varro himself. Our readers may judge, how natural and
familiar the triple number of tlie Fata was to the Romans, when
we remind them, that it is mentioned not only by Varro and
Ccesellius Vindex, by Apuleius, Ausonius, Fulgentius, and Isi-
dorus, but is also found in a public temple, and in a multitude
of private inscriptions.^^

But in the difference between Varro and Caesellius, who
agree in mentioning the triple number, and yet seem to con-
tradict one another as to the name of the third sister, there
might be found the strongest argument for proving either a
mistake or an arbitrary introduction of a foreign opinion. It
will not appear so on examining the meaning of both names.
Mmta had been applied by Livius Andronicus, in translating the
Odyssey, to express the notion of Molpa ^avaroio, the lot of
death." By Caesellius, it was derived from mors and mori. This
derivation seems to be evident of itself, and is ascertained by the
form mortalis: it did not, however, please Gellius, by whom in
other places Caesellius has been justly blamed. Gellius chose
rather to identify it with the Greek /^opr;;, which he believed to
have been literally translated by Andronicus into Latin in the
very sense of Molra. But it is in the highest degree improbable
that Andronicus, even if he had wished to preserve a Greek

(41) Tertullian. de Anim. c. 36.

(42) See not. 15.

(43) By Hermann (Elem. doct metric, p. 620) the verse of Livius Andronicus has
been truly said to have been borrowed from Homer, Od. ii. 99 :

tls ore K(v fiiv

Motp' okofi Ka6t\r)(Ti ravrjKtyios dcwdroio.

1888.] of the Ancletitt-rFaie. 47

form, should have rejected the usual form Moira, and have pre-
ferred one tiiat was unusual, and whicii, if used in this meanm^,
would require explanation, even by a Greek reader. Nay it
is more tnan improbable considering^ tliat it was the constant
custom of Andronicus to introduce Roman instead of tlie Greek
deities which he found in Homer, — Camente for il///w?, Moueta
for Mneino/iyne,** not to mention such as Suturni /ill for Kjooi/cij,
Mercurim for Hermpx^ Jilius Lntoneit for the son of Leto. Nor
must we pay any attention to the opinion, that the word Morta
might have been invented by Andronicus. We think it existed
in popular and pontifical forms of words, not only in ancient
times, but even in the age of Ctcsellius, who knowing this deity
to be one of the Fata, did not find it in any classical author save
Andronicus. In the time of Gellius it may have been totally
forgoUen.

Parca, which is used for Morta by Varro, undoubtedly has
tlie same sense. The most simple derivation is that from par-
ous;** allotting fate is considered as scant, limiting, restraining;**

(44) Gell. N. A. xviii. 9 : librum Livii Andronicus, qui inscriptus est 'Odvaatutj
in quo erat primus versus:

Virum mihi, Camena, insiie versullum.
Priscian vi. p. 679 : Mercuriusiiue cumque eo filius I.atnnas ; and : nam diva Nfoneta.4
filia docuit ; and ib. vii. p. 741: pater iioster, Saturni filie. The old poet lias been
unjustly reproved by M. Ilartung (i. 2d, 3, not. ; ii. 69) fur haviiif; used Moneta in a
Use sense. We shall find another opportunity for defending him against this
charge.

(45) The word parous springs from the mmv. root with parcere, which unites the
sense of beini; parsimonious with that of using mercy, like the English word to spare.
See PlauU Casin. ii. 8, 6o: argento parci nolo. The ancient writers therefore falsely
explain Pares as used kot dvTi<f>pa(n», Dunat Art. Grarom. iii. 6, 2; Isidor. Orig.
i. 36, 4 ; viii. 11, 9.3 ; Albric. Dcor, Imag. 10 ; Scrv. Virg. JF.n. i. 26 ; Ed. v. 45;
Lyd. de Mers. iii. 45. M. Hartung (ii. 232) has tried a new path in deriving it
from pars. Roman writers, indeed, mention destinies distributed by the deities of
fate: Phsedr. iii. 38, 19: fatorum arbilrio partes sunt vobis dats. Ammian.
Marcell. xiv. ll,extr. : parti lia fata. Perhaps there may exist a relationship be-
tween parens and pars, as there seems to be between Mars, Mamers, and Marcus,
Mamercus. Every division is not accompanied by the notion of limiting : thus the
notion of parsimony might arise from it. BulHhis is uncertain ; and undoubtedly
Uie notion of distributing is not expressed by parcus. Then it is quite arbitrary to
separate Parca from that word, which has entirely the same f<>rm, and to refer it to
another, the meaning of which is a remote one. Nay, by identifiying pars with fiipos
and this with ftolpa, M. Hartung overturns all the strict rules of etymology : nor
will he bear out this hypothesis by declaring iroKvs to be the same with multus,
bellus will meltus (melior).

(4(>) [n Scandinavian mythology also, two of the fatal sist(*rs arc generous ; the
third, the younj^est, is parsimonious. Saxo Gramm. p. 2.34: tcrtia vero protervioris
ingenii invidenliorisque studii femina sororum indulgcntiorum as|>ernata consensum
eorumque donis officcrc eupiens. The same is observed in German tales : the third
sister tears asunder the rope which is twisu-d by the others. See Grimm Deutsche
Mythologie, p. 231, 233, 234. It is an excellent remark of this writer, (p. 231):
that it seems to be characteristic of fuiiy tales, to represent the benefits conferred by
two fairies as injured by a third.

48 The Religious System [Jan.

restrictive fate acts most vigorously in death.*' This meaning
was clearly understood by Propertius, when he wrote : Optima
morsy parca qtup, ven'it aptn die ;" the best death is that which
comes united with the scant day, the restrictive day, the day of the
natural limits which are set to human life. If any day be
called scant, no one can doubt of this term being applied to the
day of restraint by a previous law. The niggard hand, which
allots destiny, is also mentioned by Horace : cui deus obtulit
parca quod satis est mamt.

The Roman weird sisters accordingly watched the limits of
every man's lot in the same manner as did those of Greece ; but
if the latter guarded both the limits of space and of time, the
former looked rather to time only ; they presided over birth and
death, which are the two real limits of human life.« Birth was
governed by two, the deity of the ninth month, which matures
the child, and of the tenth, which brings it forth : death was
ruled by the goddess of its day, usually named after its restrictive
power, sometimes after death itself. The name of the restraining
deity is transferred to her sisters also : as in Greece the Moirai
are called Cataclothes,^ a termed derived from the name of the
eldest sister, Clotho. The denomination ParceCi indeed, was
more fit for signifying the rulers of fate as personal beings, than
that of Fata, the gender of which is neuter. However, even this
is retained, together with Parcae, and the last name itself properly
means nothing but the spirits, which act in the restrictive decrees
of the gods. Even if they be called rulers of fate, no arbitrary
dominion, but only a ministerial power, is ascribed to them : for
what is established by the sorores domiviB fati^ remains under
the superintendance and supreme influence of the gods :*' and
their decrees and the destinies allotted by them, even when not
personified, are represented as acting as well as the Parcep.**

(47) Fatum is frequently used fur death. Orell. Inscr. 1123 and 4634: fatum
fecit ; ib. 4593 : fatis peractis ; ib. 4758 and 4777 : fatalis dies. Cf. Consoi. 357 :

Fata maiient omnes : omnis exspeetat avarus
Portitor.

(48) Proper t. iii. 5, 18. The same is expressed by Parcanim dies, Virg. ^n. xii.
150 Cf. Herat. Carm. iii. 16, 44.

(49) The theory of the Stoics was the same with that of the Roman religion. See
Serv. Virg ^n. viii. 334: secundum Stoicos lucutus est, qui nasci et mori fatis dant,
media omnia fortuns.

(50) Horn. Od. vii. 197.^

Ufiafrai aaaa ot Aura KaroKkfodts rt fiapuai
Tdvofiiv^ VTjaavTO Xiixo 5t( fuv t(K( ft-rirqp.

(51) Ovid. TrisU V. 3, 17.

Ad dominse fati qnicquid cccincre sorores
Omne sub arbitrio desinit esse Uei ?

(52) See not. 16.

I

1838.] of the Ancients— Fate. 49

In the old Roman religion the limitation of life by death,
which depended on fate, was not derivetl from a general law of
nature, as it wus in Greece : on the contrary, it was placed
entirely under the will of the gods, and might be altered and
modified by their decrees. The development of nature is
founded upon necessity, Roman fate upon {lersonal will. By
nature, as we read in Servius," man ought to live ten times
twelve years. This period was completed by Arganthonius, king
of Gades, who began to reign in his fortieth year, and died after
having governed for eighty years," two-thircfs of his life. Here
we again observe the triple division. But such a happy lot is
obtained only as an exception from general destiny. The lives
of most men are not perfect, nor according to the will of the
gods ; they therefore have limited the period of life by fate. The
mean proportion of the period of fate is that of ninety years
(three times thrice ten years, as before four times thrice ten); or
according to others, of eighty-one (three times thrice three
multiplied by three) years. The term of one hundred and
twenty years for the law of nature, as well as that of ninety for
the time of fate, was publicly acknowledged in Rome. To the
eternal city itself, whose existence no one doubted was pleasing to
the gods, an age of four times thrice ten periods was predicted by
the twelve eagles, which appeared to Romulus : and after having
passed one hundred and twenty years, the age of Arganthonius,
there was no doubt but that it would reach twelve centuries.**
For the individual Roman citizen, from whom life so perfect was
not to be expected, the laws of the republic supposed the age of
ninety years. Half of this time he was obliged to pass in military
service, and the third part in the service of the junfores. Half of
the age allotted by fate was appointed for the Jiiniorexy the duty
of which ceased at forty -five years, when they received the name
o( seniores : the other half for those, who at sixty years became
senes : accordingly the beginning was appointed at fifteen years,
at the end of this, or during the sixfeenth, the boy received the
toga virilis ,** then he daily viewed the military exercises in the
Campus Martins and was exercised himself; at the end of the

(53) Serr. Virg. Mb. iv. 6Xi : Fortuna, non natura nee fatum. Tribus enim
bumana vita coDtinetur : uatura, cui ultra ccutum et vij^inti soUtitiales annos von-
ceuum non est ; fato, cui n u.igintu unni, hue est tres SAiurni tunus, exitiuin creant,
nisi fortK aliarum stellarum benigiiitas etiam tertium ejus superat cui-sum ; fortuna,
id c*t casu, qui ad omnia |ierlinct que extrinseeus sunt ut ad ruinam, incendia, nau-
fragia, vcnena. Cf. Varr. ap. Ceusurin. de Die Nat 14.

(M) See Herod, i. 163; Cic. SenecL 19; Plin. H. M. vii. 48, 19.

(A6) Ceniorin. de Die Natal. 17, extr.

(56) Sec Tacitus Anna!, xii. 41.

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. E

50 'I he Reliyloits System [Jan.

seventeenth year he entered the duties of the juniores. This
period of two years was granted by a law passed by C. Gracchus,"
in order to spare the flower of youth, which very often would
have been broken, if actual service began, as severe duty required,
at the end of the fifteenth year.

Even this period of ninety years, which fate decreed, was
limited by chance, by diseases, and other events. This limitation
was attributed to fortune. The difference of fortune and fate
was never forgotten, though very often united to accomplish the
same purpose."

We have seen the name of Fata expressing peculiarity,
Scribunda firmness, Parcae restraint. Every individual is thought
to have his Parca; the Parca of one is better than that of
another." The Parcse of men are distinguished from those of
the gods." Thus the name of Parcse, which was properly
applied to the lot of mortality, extended to the whole manner in
which the lot of life has been fixed by divine order. This variety
of individual situations being referred to the Parcae, the original
names of the sisters soon appear to be too inane, too external ;
they are supplied and replaced by the Grecian name; and
accordingly the Greek conception of the spinning and weaving
Parcae is received to enrich and adorn the Italian.

The quality of the internal connexion of all the separate events,
which happen to a man and belong to his lot, was not imagined
by the Romans. Nor was it necessary, nor even suitable to the
fatum, if this were nothing but a simple utterance of the divine
will. The classic Roman poetry arose in the age when people
endeavoured to emancipate themselves from the continual and
ever present superintendance of their various gods. This eman-
cipation was not easily accomplished ; it was the work of cen-
turies; and when gained, appeared to involve the destruction of
all that which formed the peculiar grandeur of the Roman name.
During this struggle of reason, the human mind, the more it
turned to consider tne nature of the world and all that it contained,
the more it was led away from the worship of the gods, and from

(37) Plutarch. Cai. Gracch. 5.

(58) Manil. Astron. iv. 49 : hoc nisi fata darent, nunquam fortuna dedisset We
find Fata victricia bearing the emblems of Fortune on coins. See Welcker Zeit-
schrift liir alte Kuost, p. 233, not. ; of. not. \AA.

(■59) Ovid. Heroid. xi. 105 : nubite felices Parca meliore, sorores : for fato pros*
periore, Fast. ill. 614.

(6(t) Marcian. Capell. i. 12, v. 12. Apollo says to Jupiter —
Te nunc parentem principeraque maximum
Fatumque nostrum : quippe Parcarum chorus
Humana pensat, tuque stirtem coelitum.
Cf. Stat. Achili. i. 255: humiles Parcas terrenaque fata.

1838.] of thr Ancieutfi—Fate. 51

reasoning on their nature and will. This was left to the iwntifices,
who considered themselves in duty hound to maintain the ancient
system of doctrines. In considering the nature of man, it was
imperative to examine the chances of life, to collect them into a
system, and to establish a law for arranging; them. This was not
done without a religious awe for the gods ; formerly men imagined
these events to have been decrees of their will ; they endeavoured
to discover the law on which these decrees depended. The notion
of systematic order is easily confounded with that of necessity.
Philosophy observes such an order to be maintained throughout
the world; it discovers a certain series of causes and effects,
kept together in unbroken connexion." The idea of the firm-
ness of fate is now replaced by that of necessity, which is still
believed to be established by the supreme will ot the gods, or of
the king of the gods, -^ the weird sisters, in whose image the
notion of harmony and concord in all decrees, now prevails over
that of variety," are still the servants of Jove, the executors of
his will, though the blind law of nature is confounded with that
of fate. But in proportion, as in the Greek and Roman literature,
poetry was overpowered by philosophy, so it rejected the influence
of personal gods, and founded itself* more and more upon blind
law, which was animated by the Parca?, or rather merely per-
sonified in them.*' The Roman poets had been taught philosophy
as well as poetry ; they had been accustomed at an early age to
prefer philosophical reasoning to poetical intuition, to believe
rather \n the results discovered by the human understanding,
than in the doctrine and character of the gods, handed down
from their ancestors, who had been accustomed to yield to their
imagination, when guide<l by religious feeling and enlightened by
poetical genius. In classical jwetry the ParctE now appear
mdependant of the gods, and even opposed to them.** Jupiter
himself learns from their archives the course of future events, and
fate is no more the word of the great gods, but the word of the
Parcae, who rule the world with indt4>endant, absolute, inexorable
power.**

(HI) Auguttin. Civ. Dei v. 8: omnium conoexionem Kriemque cauuurum, qnaftt
onne quod fit, fati nomine appellant.

(62) August, ib. : ipsum causarum ordinem et qunnd^m conoexionem dei summi
tribuunt voluntati el pou-btati.

(63) Virjj. Eel. iv. 47: concontes subili fatorum numine Pares. Ovid. Mel. r.
533: itic Parcarum foedere caulum est. Cf. not. 131. 'I'hwi MeL x. 363: pou-ntit
Natura fcedus.

(61) Hyipn. Aatron. ii. 15, med. : Pares feninturcecinisse fata, quae pcrfici rtrrum
voiuil natura.

(6.5) Ovid. McL XV. 8ia (not 31.)

(6^>) Varr. Ling. Lat. vi. 51 : ab hoc tempore, quod turn pucris conslituerunt

e2

52 llie Beligious System [Jan.

Tlie first trace of the introduction of Greek names into Italy is
found in Etruria, on the back of a brazen patera, on which the
fate of Meleager is represented. The hero, called Meleager,
stands, with sad looks, near his beloved Atalanta (Atlenta), to
whom he has adjudged the Calydonian prize; at the other side
Toxeus is embraced by his sister Althaea; in the middle of
all, Atropos (Atrpa) stands with the hammer and nail, which she
is'about to fix in the wall." It is interesting to observe in a Greek
fable ideas borrowed not from the Greek, but from the Italian
and Etruscan religions. The goddess of fate appears merely as
appointing death : nor does she allot it by the piece of burning
wood, but by driving in the nail, which is peculiar to the Etruscan
deity of fate, Nortia ; the goddess of necessity, as she is described
by Horace, carrying nails, wedges, and cramps. In poetry, Atro-

?os is mentioned by Statins, Martial, Ausonius and Claudian**;
.achesis by Ovid, Sabinus, Statins, Martial, Juvenal, Ausonius,
Claudian, and by the philosopher Seneca**; Clotho, by Ovid, Silius,
Statius, Seneca the philosopher, in the tragedies of Seneca, and
in some monuments." These names being introduced by the
observation of individual variety, a Clotho and Lachesis of single
men^' are even named.

The art of weaving was too celebrated in the Greek deities of
fate not to attract the attention of the Romans, and to introduce
itself into their poetry. Wanting as the poets were without a
domestic emblem of the internal connexion between the single
chances, which belong to the same lot, they eagerly adopted this,
but they did not paint the art of weaving witli lines taken from
Greek customs, but applied it to Roman manners and opinions.
The Moirai are believed to spin flax ;" the Parcee are weaving

Parcae fando, dictum fatum et res fatalis. Serv. Virg. ]£.n. v. 47 : fata dicta a fando
quia quae Parcae dixeiunt, hoec credebanlur. evenire oiortalibus. The theorists dis-
tinguished fAta conditionaiia and denuntiativa, Serv. Virg. ^n. iv. 696. The abso-
lute power of the FiucaB is most distinctly mentioned by Julius Firmicus Matcrnus
(AstroD. ii. 4), who refers them to the parts of the Zodiac: suntautem infinitae po-
testatis et liccntiae et (jua; fata honiinum sua auutoritate desi^nent. Cf. not 208.

(67) Iiighirami Monum. Etruschi ii. 62, Cf. p. .539. Miiller Denkmaler der
alten Kunsi, tab. Ixi. Nr. 307. Cf. Horat. Carm. i. 35, 16.

(68) Stat. Silv. iii. 127, &,c. &c.

(69) Ovid. Trist. v. 10, 45; Sabin. Epist. i. 71 ; SUU Silv. iii. 5, 40 ; Theb.
ii. 249.

(70) Ovid. Fast. vi. 757 ; ib. 243 ; Consol. Liv. 239 ; Sil. Ital. iv. 369 ; v. 404 ;
Stat Theb. iii. 556; Senec. 1 hyest. 618; Octov. 16; Senec. Apoloc.; Orell.Inscr.
4844.

(71) Silv. Ital. V. 4r4: Ille sibi longam Clotho turbamque nepotum Crcdiderat
Juven. ix. 135: at mea Clotho et Lachesis gaudent, si pascitur inguine venter.

(72) Horn. Od. vii. 197 (not. 50). II. xx. 128: a<T<Ta o\ Aura r(ivofM(P<p errfvrjat
\iv<f. The same II. xxiv. 210. Theocrit.i. 139: rd yc /xoy XiVa Trdvra XcXotTrri,
'E(k Moipav.

1838.] of the Ancients^Fate. 5S

wool ; the * wool-weaving sisters* is a name peculiar to them." 'Die
Romans attributed a sacred authority to wool ;^* work in wool
was the only one pursued by the Roman ladies;^* therefore in
marriage a spindle, a distan covered with wool, and a basket
filled with wool, were carried behind the bride ; in entering the
house she adorned the door-posts with woollen bands,^' as an
emblem of tiikin*' possession of the house, and as an emblem of
thrifty housekeeping; then she sate down on a wool-fleece," which
had been taken from the sheep sacrificed for marriage, and was
spread over the chairs of the two betrothed persons." Wool is the
sign upon the apex of the flamen," his coat, as well as those of the
fetialis and paterpatratus, ought to be of wool, nor is any linen
thread allowed in it."* For every sacred use, for every union,
for every fastening and covering,*' wool only can be employed.

C73) Ijiniflcae sorore* Martial, iv. 54, 5 ; vi. 58, 7 ; Juveiml. xii. C«».

(74) Plin. il. N. xxix. 2, 9 : Lanis auctorilatem veteres Romani ctiam relijtiosini
babuere, p'istes a Dubentibus nttingi jubentes. For the woollen bands of the Veslali
see Ovid. Fast. iii. 30. Cf. Prop. iv. <i, 0 : terque rocuni circa laneus orbis eat.

(75) Plutarch. Romul. 15 and 19 : iravriit Ipyov xaii iraojjt Xarpfias rrXfiv rdXa-
vias dtJHifupat. Ascon. Cic. Miton. { 13, p. 43 (Orell. , at. p. 151) : telas quo; ex
vetcre more in atrio texebantur. Liv. i. 57 : t.ucrctiam nocte sera dcdilani lante inter
lucubrantes ancillas in inudio sdium sedentem inveniunt. Cf. Aurul. Vict. Vir.
llluiitr. 9, and Ovid. Fast. ii. 742, concerning the same :

Ante torum calathi lanaquc mollis erat.
lb. iii. 817 . Pallade placata lanara moUite, pueliae :

Discite jam plenas exoneiare colos.
VitruT. vi. 10, 2 : oeci magni, in quibus matres familiarum cum lanificis haLent
sessioncm. Cf. Terent. Andr. i. I, 47. Orcll. Inscr. 4848 : domum scrvavit, lanam
fecit; ib. 48R0 : eo majorem laudem omnium carissima milii mater meruit, quod
modestio, probitate, pudicitia, obscquio, ianiflcio, diligcntia, fide par simili»que
cetereis probeis feminis fuit ; ib. 46:39: Amymone .Marci optima et pulcherrima,
Uoifica, pia, pudica, frugi, casta, domiscda. Cic. Orat ii. 63,277 ; Lucret. v. 1355;
Virg. JEn. vii. 805; viii. 409; HoraL Carm. iii. 15, 13; Tibull. i. 3, 8«; ii. I. 10 ;
Ovid. Fast. iv. 773 ; Pent iii. 8, 1 1 ; Medic. Fac. 14 ; Juvcn. ii. 54.

(76) Plin. N. H. xxix. 2, 9 (not 74). I.ucan. ii. 355 :

Infulaque in geminos discurrit Candida postes.
Plutarch. Quest Rom. 31 : ipi<f hi rifv Bvpav ntpi(TT*<f>*i tov eafip6s. Serv.
Virg. ^.n. iv. 4.^: moris fuerat, ut uubcntes quells, simul cum veoissent ad limcn
marili, postes, an'.equam ingn-derentur, proptt-r auspicium castitat's omarcnt Inneis
vittis.

(77) Fest p. 8.^: In pellc lanata nova nupta considere solct «el propter morem
vetustum ; quia antiquitus homines peliibus crant induti vel quod testelur lanificii
ofBcium De praestituram viro. Cf. Plutarch. Uuxst Rom. 31.

(78) Serv. Virg. JEa. iv. 374.

(79) Virg. .£n. viii. 664: Lanigerosque apices. Cf. Serv.: flumines in capitc
pileum habebant, in quo erat brevis viiga desuper hahens lane aliquid.

(80) Serv. Virg. JEn. xii. 120 : Fetialis et paterpatratus, per quos bella vel foedera
eonflrmabantiir, nunquum utebantur vestibus lineis, adco autem a Romano ritu alie-
num est ut, cum Haminica e»set inventa tuiiieam laneam lino habuisse consutaro, con-
■titisset ob earn causam piaculum esse comroissum. Cf. Plin. II. N. xix. 2, 2 : .M.
Varro tradit, in Serranorum familia gentiliciuro esse feminas linea veste non uti.

(81) The head of the Flamen never ought to be bared, nor any part of Uie body
of the Flamiiiiea. The wool-coat of the Flamen is mentioned, Serv. Virg. JEa. ir.
264. Cf. Ovid. Fa»>t ii. 21 : pctuut a Hamine lana«.

54 Tlie Reliyioua System [Jan.

We have seen the fleece in marriage to be the sign of the union of
both the seats : by weaving wool for the cloth of her husband, the
lady has produced the most necessary cover in the house itself.**
Matrimony is founded upon female economy much more than on
any quality in man. Thus the wool-basket, calathus, calathiscus,
talassius, became the sign of wedlock and matrimonial settlement;
serving talassius means the same as is expressed by the less cour-
teous German proverb, "submitting to the slipper."" The spirit
who was believed to act in this settlement bore the name of the
Basket ; he was considered a companion of Quirinus, the deity of
the settlement of Rome, the divine spirit of the city itself, and
united to the same, when he, bearing the name of Romulus
in mortal life, established Roman wedlock by carrying away the
Sabinian women." Accordingly the marriage of this Talassius
was celebrated in nuptial songs, named after him, as having been
the most happy one," because all matrimonial happiness is founded
on the regular and economical life of the lady. A fellow spirit of
Quirinus is Sanchus, called also Dius Fidius, the divine spirit of
human credibility ;^ in whose chapel the wool, the spindle, and
the distaff, of Gaia Caecilia were kept. This was the genuine
Latin name of the queen of Tarquinius Priscus." She was
praised for having been the most ingenious worker in wool, and
worshipped as a model of all Roman women. Every bride,
therefore, when brought to the doors of her bridegroom's house
in nuptial procession, and being asked her name by the bride-
groom himself, in adorning the posts with wool-fillets, declared
herself to have received the name of the illustrious queen, by
answering: If thou be Gaius I am Gaia.

(82) Wool served for common dress. Plant. Mil. iii. 1, 93j Horat. Carm. iii. 16'
37. Ulpian. ill Disest. xxxiii. 7, 1*2, o; laniiicas quse ruslicam familiam vestiunf
Varr. LL. v. 30: l.Tena de lana multa.

(83^ Fest. p. 1.52 : Talassionem in nuptiis VaiTo ait signum esse lanilicii : talas-
sionem enim vocahant quasillum, qui alio modo appellabatur calathus (Cf. Ovid.
Fast. ii. 742, not. 75. Catuli. 64, 319: calatbisci) vas utique ipsis lanificiis aptum.
Cf. Plutarch. Romul. 15; Qusest. Rom. 31. Catuli. 61, 134: lubet servire ta-
lassio. Martial, iii. 93, 25 : talassionem tuum : matrimony with you. In nuptial
songs allusions were heard to wool-baskets and work in wool : nee tua defucrunt verba,
talasse, tibi, Martial, iii. 93, 23. Both Livy and Plutarch take the vox nuptialis
talassio for the dative : to talassius, towards talassius. Undoubtedly it is justly ex-
plained by Catullus.

(84) Liv. i. 9. Serv. Virg. I£.n. i. 6-55. Fest. p. 268. Plut, 1 1, cc. Pompei. 4.

(85) Fest. p. 26S: at quidam liistoriarum scriptor Talassium ait nomine virum
rapta virgine unica; pulcliritiidinis: quod ei id conjugium fuerit felix, boni ominis
gratia nunc redintesjrari. Plutnrch. Rom. 15: a(^' oJ Sij roi/ TaXdci'W aypi vvv,
ws EXXnwr t6v Yftivoiop, eirabovtn 'Paj/iaiot roii ydfioif ku\ yap €VTvxKf </>a<ri
Xp^O'aaaai TTfpl ttju wvaiKa tou ToXacrtoi/.

(86) Klauscn dc Cirmine fralrum arvuliuni, p. 66, not. 163.

(87) Pliiill. N. viii. 48, 74.

1838.] of the Anclenh^ Fatr. 56

From this heroine of weaving, Catullus has transferred the
business of working wool to the Parcac, who, according to the
Greek poets, were employed in spinning. The happiness of
children depends upon the character of the parents, and do-
mestic education under the eyes of the motlier. We have
seen wool to be the Roman emblem for both elements, union
of characters and housekeeping. It is in unison with these
opinions, to represent the Parcae, who allot destiny, as weaving it
ot the sacred wool. Nor can there be found any better oppor-
tunity of introducing them to this occupation than in marriage,
where tlie instruments of weaving are solemnly delivere<l. Ca-
tullus gives them into the hands of the Parcae, the renowned
spinners of Greece. Nor did he want an example of their being
introduced in wedlock by Greek iKtets. Pindar mentions lliemis,
Aristophanes, Hera, as united with Jupiter by the Moirai. **
The Roman Parcae originally governed birth and death. Accord-
ingly, in marriage they do not weave the lot of the parents, but
that of the child. But Catullus, while he represents them weaving,
does not forget their genuine Roman office of adjudging by
words. These ivords are elevated to song; while they work in
wool, the Parcae assign to the child its lot by singing.

This idea Catullus exhibits in his celebrated poem on the
marriage of Peleus and Thetis. The Greek subject is treated

?uite according to the prejudices and the national opinions of an
talian poet : the whole nuptial arrangement is Roman. The
wedding torches, by which Peleus is blessed,* are indisj>ensable to
a Roman marriage : the bride ought to bring with herself five
torches of white pine-tree, kindled at her own hearth, and carried
by a freeborn boy.*" After the Thessalian crowd has dispersed,
tlie deities appear, afterwards enter with Jove, and then the
native divinities of Thessaly bring their gifts. From the top of
Pelion Chiron approaches, carrying flowers of his forests twisted
into wreaths." I he nuptial wreatlis in the wedlock of Manlius
and Julia, Catullus himself mentid^is as made of sweet-smelling
marjoram," a common flower of the forest. Chiron is followe<l by

(88) Piod. Hymn. (r. 2. Aristoph. A v. 1731 : "Hpq wot 'OXv/iirt^ Tmv ijKipaTmi^
6fi6vt»v Apxoyra Otots fityav Moipai ^wtKoifuacw 'Ev rot^d' vfuva'uf. 1'hiii men-
tion of the muirai is evidently taken from a pipular nuptial sung. Cf. £sch.
Prom. BM.

(H9) Catull. 64, 2.5: tsdit felicibus aucte: ib. 3()3 ; Tbetidit Uedas celebran;
jugales.

(90) Nonius, p. 1 12, Fax. : Varro ile vita pop. Rom. lib. ii : Quum a nova nupta
ignis in face atfjrrctur foco ejus sunitus, quum fax ex pinu alba esset, ut earn puer
ingcuuus atferrct Cf; PluUrcli. Que>t. Kom. 2. Rosini Anli<iu. Rom. p. 4dtf, »«i.
Catull. c. 61, 15: piucam i|uau- twdaui.

(91) fat. «>4, 27l».

(92) Cat. 61, »j.

56 TJie Reliy'touH System [Jan.

Penoos, who briii*^ beeches, laurels, planetree, and poplars, with
leaves and roots. These he plants round the seats established for
the expected gods, so that the whole of the hall is decked out with
foliage. Roman halls were adorned for marriageonly with branches
and leaves : but it was a custom peculiar to the Romans to plant
trees within them. Their usual place was near the hearth, above
which there was an. aperture in the roof for letting out smoke,
called impluvium ;** the rain, which entered by it, was collected in
the compluvium, the free and moist condition of which was fit for
receiving plants." These represented the continual growth of
the family, as the fire burning on the hearth near them its per-
petual life. The growth was promoted by the water of the
compluvium: in marriage, water, brought from a pure well, was
presented to the betrothed couple to be touched by them. This
IS the reason why Peneos is chosen to bring the trees. This is
the principal river of Thessaly, famous in poetry, and, therefore,
the poet thought it more fit for representing the nourishing
waters of Thessaly, when the king of this country married, than the
river Apidanus, though this flows near Pharsalus, which is con-
sidered by Catullus as the royal seat of Peleus.^" Water was not
presented alone, but together with fire. Water and fire are most
indispensable requisites for all civilized life ; by depriving a citizen
of these the republic destroys his domestic life and drives him into
banishment: by touching them the bridegroom and bride
accomplish their marriage.^ As the water is represented by
Peneos, so fire in the poem of Catullus is represented by Pro-
metheus, on whose hand a ring, the emblem of his chain, reminds
him of his punishment," and thereby of his deed. By stealing
fire from the gods and giving it to mortals, Prometheus esta-
blished social life among men, who before lay in subterranean
caverns like ants, destitute of houses, and ignorant of the use of
wood, and of the course of the year.** Generally the power of
Vesta is worshipped in this fire upon the hearth, which keeps
families together in the house, and citizens in the town. To the
virgins of this goddess the care of the sacred fire of the republic
is entrusted in Rome.*"

(93) Cat 64, 289.

(94) Virp. JEti. ii. 512. Cf. vii. 59, aud Serv. ib. Liv. xliii. 13 : palmam en»-
tara inipluvio. Sueton. Aug. 92 ; Plin. H. N. xiv. 3.

(95) Cat. 64, 37.

(96) Fest. p. 3.

(97) Cat. 64, 296 : £xtenuata gerens veteris vestigia poense.

(98) ^sch. Prom. 450. Settlement is ascribed t« Vulcan, Horn. Hymn. xx. 3.

(99) Suid. Hovnas ras 'Eariddas tov Trvpiis xat vdaros firi^itXtiav ixtw

1838.] of the AncienU—Fate. 57

After these native spirits of the country and house, Jupiter
enters with the Olympic gods ; only Apollo and Diana refuse to
meet at Peleus's marriage."* In this the poet opposes Homer,
according to whom Apollo strikes the lyre at the wedding
banquet, and also ylCschylus, who introduces Apollo celebrating
the life of Achilles.'"" Catullus replaces him by the Parcu', who
sing and weave the lot of Achilles. When the gods sit down to
the banquet, the Parcee begin their veracious songs, shaking their
limbs in feeble motion. Their trembling bodies are veileti to the
feet by a white garment, with a purple border ; bands white as
snow encircle their immortal heads.'"* Both the bands and
the long white garment with the border {ittola or tunica cum
instita) form the honourable dress reserved for a Roman
matron. "^ Their hands are engaged in the eternal work ; the
left liolds the distaif, which is wrapped round with soft wool; the
right forms the threads, drawing them lightly down with bended
fingers, and turning the spindle upon the thumb, it nioves it in a
gentle whirl; while the tooth always smooths the work, and the
woollen flocks, which pr«Mecte<l in the thread, cling to the dry
lips. At their feet the soft fleece of white wool is kept in a basket
oi twigs. Thus spinning the wool, they reveal, with a clear voice,
in a divine song, fates which no age shall prove to have been
false."** These fates are the birth and the events in the life
of Achilles. Allotting these, they interrupt their song after each
strophe, by addressing the running spindles, that lead the texture
by which fates are guided {" sed vos quce fata sequuntur currite

(100) Cat 64, 300, sqq.

(101) Horn. 11. x»iv. 62. «scli. P«ychosl. fr. 264.

( 102) Cat. 64, 306 .—

interea infirmo quatientes corpora motu

Veridicos Pares cceperunt edcre cantus.
His corpus tremulum complccU-ns undique Testis,
Candida purpurea quam T;rro incinxerat ora :
Arnhrosio nivea; residebant Tertice vittas.

(103) AeroD. Herat. Serm. i. 2, 29.

(104) Cat.d4, 3>l.—

^ternumquc roanus carpebant rite laborem.
Lcvacidum molli lana rctiacbat amictum,
Dextera tarn leviier deducens fila supiois
Formabat digitis: turn prono in polliee torqucns
Libratum ter«ti ver&abat turbine fusam.
Atque ita decerpens equabat semper opus dens,
Laoeaque aridulis hen-bant morta labellis.
Qua prius in levi fuerant exstantia filo.
Ante pedes auteni candentis nioilia lan«
Vellera virgati custndibant calathisi-i.
Hac turn clariv>na pcUcntcs vcllera voce,
Talia divine fuderunl carmine fata,
Carmine perfidiE quod post nulla arguet ctai.

.58 TUe Reiiy^ious System [Jan.

ducentes subtemina currite fusi.") It is probable that such re-
peated summonses of the spindles were also heard in the nuptial
songs of the Roman people : certainly the spindle was present
during the song, and to summon it would have suited to the
talassio.

Catullus, as well as Livius Andronicus, preserves the term
praefari for the divine act of allotting fate."" In elevating the
speech, which this word expressed, to song, he seems to have
added a new embellishing feature to the painting. This was not
done by arbitrary choice, for even this embellishment was taken
from the domestic ideas of the Romans. The peculiar Latin
term for a prescribed form of words is carmen.^^ Such a phrase,
whether contained in verse or in prose, was pronounced with a
solemn voice in settled time, and even with some degree of
melody. To pronounce thus was called canere. These powerful
songs or phrases, mighty enough to impose even on the will of
the gods, and to ascertain the will of man, were believed to be
animated by a spirit,, called Carmentis. Carmentis, therefore,
governed birth, and revealed the events which were about to
happen to the child."^ In Ovid we find her singing the future
greatness of Rome at the day of the first Arcadian settlement on
the Palatine hill, and the future divinity of Hercules, when he
had given the first proof of his heroic strength on Italian ground.
She was particularly worshipped by the matrons, and, like the
woolbands,"** was a peculiar honour of theirs. The arrangement of
her service was derived from the establishment of the first Roman
marriage, and the reception of the first matrons."® Thus, we

(105) Cat. 64, 383 : Talia praefantes quondam felicia Peici

Carniina divino cecinerunt omine Paroae.

(106) Cf. not. 40. Forms of words used in public service are called carmina.
Cic. Muren. 12,26: prsetor ne quid ipse sua sponte loqueritur, eo quoque carmen
compositum est. Liv. i. 24, 26: lex horrendi carminis. See Petersen Orig. Hist.
Rom. p. 9. Witchcraft is ascribed to song in Frag. xii. Lab. Phrases for invoking
the gods in order to eslablisli a certain issue, bear the name of carmina, Plin. H. N.
xxviii. 2, 3: durat immenso exemplo Deciorum patris fiiiique, quo sedevovere, car-
men. Every prescribed prayer (for instance. Cat. Re Rust. 131, 132, 134, 139, 141 ;
Liv. i. 18) can l)e called so.

(107) Augustin. CD. iv. 11 : in deabus illis, quae fata nascentibus canunt et
vocantur Carmentes. Carmentis governing birth is mentioned, Gell. N. A. xiv. 16;
Cf. Ovid. Fast. i. 618 ; Plutarch. Qu. R. 36; the same prophecying, Ovid. Fa>ti.
474-583; ib. fi35; Virg. iEn. viii, 339 ; Dion. Hal. i. 31, 40 ; Strab. v. p. 230 ;
Plutarch. Qu. R. 56. M. Hartung, after having justly explained the name (ii. p. 99)
ridicules the whole account of the influence of Carmentis npon birth, — merely be-
cause he does not understand how in this matter a goddess of song can have to dis-
charge any office : though it is undoubted that Carmentis has been worshipped on
this occasion.

(108) Serv. Virg. Jf.n. viii, (565.

(109) Plutarch. Romul. 21.

18S8.] of the AncientftT-Fate. 59

think it proved that Carmentis has been justly compared with
Themis and with Moira,"" and that it was customary with the
Romans to imagine deities allotting at wedlock the fate of children
by songs, as this idea has been transferred to the Parcee by
Catullus.

Accordingly, in the more eminent of tlie Roman ]>oets, word
and song are the particular instruments whereby the Parcae allot
fate and arrange future events. The summons by which they
address their spindles, is imitated in Virgil,'" whether he follows
Catullus or an ancient popular talassio. " True in song," is the
title given to the Parcae by Horace and Persius ;"* in Tibullus
the song of the spinning Parcce allots future victory in battle to
Messala on his birthday ;'" to Meleager in Ovid equal fate with
the burning piece of wood ;"* to twice-born Bacchus twice the
course of his life."* The fates of Roman heroes, who are to be
received among the gods, are likewise sung by the Parcaj :"* in
Claudian, the aged Lachesis sings the augury of Cybele and her
Phrygian country."^ In other places the word dicere or loqui is
applied : the Parcae speak the law of mind in birth, and they
determine the number of years by their word;"* to the Ibis they
appoint continual tears by the s^une, pronounced by one of the
sisters, according to which Clotho with an infecte{l hand weaves
a black texture, and allots to him by the words she at the same
time speaks, future praise in a poem."' The act of prophesying,
which is ascribed sometimes to the Parcae, differs from this act of
allotting, but it flows from the same opinion. If they are called

(110) Dion. Hal. i. 31 ; Plut. Qu. R. 56 ; Romul. 21 : r^v 8« Kapfiivrav oiovral
ruwr Moipav ttvai Kvp'tav ay6pimu>v -yrvfVrwr ' htb Koi TifiSxriv avrffv ai ftrjT€pts.

(111) V'irg. .I'.n. iv. 46: Tiilia secta, suis clixeruiit, ctirnte, fusis

Conconies stabili fatorum numine Parca;.

(112) Hor. C. Secul. 25 : vosquc verares cecinisse Parcae

Quod seme! dictum stabilisque renim

Terminus scrvat, bona jam peractis
Jungile fata. »
Cf. not. 28. Hor. Carm. ii. 16, 39: Parca non mendax. Pers. Sat v. 48: Parca
tenax vert.

(113) I'ibull. i. 7, 1 : hunc cecinere diini Parcse fatalia nentcs

.Stamina non ulli di^soluenda deo.
Tib. iv. 5, 3: to nascente novum Parcae cecinere pucllis Servitium.

(114) Grid. Met. viii. 450.

(115) Ovid. Trist. v. 3,2.3: scilicet banc legem nentis fatalia Parcas

Stamina bin genito bis cecinere tibi.

(116) Consol. Liv.247.

(117) Claudian. in Eutrop. ii. 288.

(118) Ovid. XV. 81 : sivc ita nascenti lci;em dixrre soronet

Neti data sunt vitac fila severa mcs.

(119) Ovid. ib. 240, 24(i.

60 The Religions System [Jan.

goddesses of the prophet,'" this seems intended to express the
prophet to have perceived their voice when they pronounced the
word of allotment. This word, not a real prophecy, reveals the
future events of Achilles' life at the wedlock of his parents. But
now and then the Parcae, who are gifted with prescience,'" are
introduced- as imparting revelations.'**

The power of the Parcae, as it appears in Roman poetry during
the time of the emperors, when the poetical conception of them
was entirely completed by uniting Roman and Greek opinions in
the manner we have indicated, is twofold : the one of granting,
the other of restricting. Both these we shall examine in their
single forms and features. A favourable fate is considered as a
white or as a golden texture,'** a vigorous constitution as strong'**
or brazen threads ; '** unhappy fate is called black or dingy.

Accordingly the Parcae themselves are called white, cneerful,
joyful;'** or, what indeed is much more frequent, aged and
hoary,'*' scant and dark,'** mournful, unkind, hostile, ungentle,
dreadful, violent, bad, noxious, greedy,'*® harsh, inflexible.'*
The same names are given to their decrees and texture.'^'

(120) Stat. Tbeb. viii. 191, to Ampbiaraus: tua nutnina. Acbill. i. 498: quando
Parcarum osculta recludes.

(121) Catull. 68, 85; Quod scibant Parcae non longo tempore abesse si miles
muros isset ad Iliacos.

(122) Ovid. Fast. ill. 802: Parcarum monitu. (n. 143).

(123) Juven. xii. 64: staminis albi Lanifica:. Stat. SiK'. i. 4, 123: candentia fila.
Cf. not 128. Martial, vi. 3, 5 : trabet aurea pollice fila. Petron, Satir. 29 : tres
Parcae aurea peusa torquentes. See the interpreters to tbe same. Sidon. ApoUiii.
V. 369: aurea Concordes traxerunt fila sorores ; ib. 604: fulva volubilibus duxeruut
sccula pensis; ib. xv, 201 : probat Atropos omen Fulvaque Concordes.

(124) Ovid. Pont. i. 8, 64 : tibi nascenti Ncrunt fatales fortia fila deae. Calpurn.
Eel, iv. 440: perpetuo coelestia fila metallo (n. 200).

(125) Stat. Theb. iii, 241 : sic fata mibi nigraeque sororum Furavere colus. Ovid.
Trist. V. 13,24: non ita sunt fati stamina nigra mibi. Ovid. F. 6, 244: nebat et
infecta stamina.

(126) Stat, Silv. iv. 3, 145: ib. i. 4, 123: laetae sorores. Juven. xii. 64: Parcae
biiares. Stat, Silv. iv. 8, 18: alba Atropos.

(127) Catull. 64, 306 : infirmo quatientes corpora mo tu ; ib. 308 : corpus iremu-
lum. Ovid. Met. xv. 281 : veterum sororum. Senec. Oclav. 15 : grandaeva
Clotbo; Claudian. in F.utrop, ii. 288 : Lachesis grandaeva. Rapt. Pros. i. 49:
Parcarum sevcram lanitiem,

(128) Stat. Silv. v. i. 145: liventia Fata. Cf. Senec. Thyest, 618, Martial, iv.
73, 6 : tetrica;^ deae, Stat. Theb, vi. 369 : nigrae sorores. Ovid. Trist v, 3, 14 :
nubila Parca.

(129) Tibull. iii. 35, and Stat. Theb, v, 274: tristes sorores. Or iniquae, Hor.
Carm. ii. 6, 9; Val. Flacc. vi. 645; infcsta, Auson, Parent 13, 6; immites, Stat
Tbeb. vii. 774; immanis Atropos, Inscr. ap. Grut 692, 10; dira Lachesis, Stat
Tbeb. ii 249; dirae, ib. vi. 916; sasvae, Valer. Flacc. v, 532; Lucan. i. 113; Claud.
Rapt. Pros, iii. 41 1 ; saevaa niraium gravesque, Stat Silv. ii. 7, 90 ; — m^lae. Martial,
vi. 62, 3; noccntes, Stat. Theb. xi. 189, 462 ; avidae. Stat Theb. vi, 358 ; Senec.

18S8.] of the Ancients^ Fate. 61

We have seen precious gifts bestowed by the Parcoe on Mes-
sala, on Cerinlhus, on the lionian heroes. As tliey give a two-
fold life to Bacchus, they grant the same to Eurydice,'** a three-
fold to Geryon;'" they bring about the arrival of iEneas in
Latiuin for the sake of Venus ; they receive Romulus among the

§od8 for the sake of Mars.'** Iney promise great virtues and
eeds to Achilles,'** old age and honour to the offspring of Me-
necrates,'* they prolong the life of Statins for his wifes sake,'"
they bestow a Greek spirit on Horace,"* they cause the friend-
ship of Perseus and Cornutus by weighing their days in corres-
ponding scales ;'* dangers are prevented by their admonitions.'**
In other cases they at least permit prosperous events, but not
longer than for a certain term.'*'

We have here seen ascribed to the Parcae not only kindness,
but even pity. The great gods had disappeared from the creed ;
they were replaced by the Parcae. Human feeling requires a
merciful deity ; bv longing after this the heart is led to ascribe
feeling even to that power, whose very conception orighiated in
quite an opposite principle ; namely, the idea of the utter impos-

Herc. Oct. 101)7. iDvida I-achesis, Auson. Parent. 29, 5. Cf. Mart. ix. 77, 6; x.
53, 3. They deny divinity to kt-mus, Consol. Liv. 243.

(130) Dur« sorores, Mil. Fun. i.281 ; xiii. 74 ; Sut. Silv. ii. 3, 75 ; Senec. Here,
for. 182; dura Parca, Ovid. Pont. iv. 15,36; Stnt. Tbeb. iii. 491 ; vi.SlS; dura
Clotho, Stat. Theb. iv. 369; dura Lach<:!>is, Ovid. I'rist. v. 10, 45; imnioia Atropns,
Stat Theb. i. 328 ; ignura moveri, ib. iii. 68 ; ferrra Clotho, Stat. Theb. iii. 5o6;
ferrea I juhe&i.o, Claud. IJcU. Get 54. Nee flectere Parcas datur, Stat Silv. iij. 3, 186.

(131) Ferrea dccreU, Ovid. Mit xv. 781 ; cf. Silv. Ital. ix. 475; Claud. Rapt
Pros. i. 53. Certo gubliuiine Pane, Horat. Kpod. xiii. 15; certo veniunt ordine
Senec. Here. fur. 183; poUice non ceiUi fila !icvera trahunt, Consol. Liv. 240. Colos
leverms, Claud. Apon. 87. Dura sororum Licia, Stat Silv. v. 1, 156; Achill. i. 519;
pensa, Theb. iii. 205; stamina, Claud. Phoeuic. 109; tena sororum stamina, Stat.
Silv. V. 3, 64. Immobile iilura, Silv. Ital. vii. 478 ; cf. xvii. 361; Parcarumque
colos non revocabilcs. Sen. Here. fur. o59 ; cf. ib. 182 ; scis nulla revolvere Parcas
stamina, Stat Theb. vii. 774 ; Fatorum incxtricabiliter contorta licia, Apulei. Metam.
xiii. v. fin. Stamina non ulli dissoluenda den, Tibull. i. 7, 2.

(132) Stat. Theb. viii. 59: iteratjt']ue pcnsa sororum. Senec. Here. Oct 1083.
Cf. Vaier. Flare, vi. 445 : dalque alias sine \c^ colus (Medea). Ovid. Fa:>t vi. 757 :
fila reneri (when Virbius is railed buck into life).

(133) SiL lul. i. 281 : cui ponere fiiiem

Non posbet mors una viro, dursque sorores
Tortia bis rupto torquerent stamma filo.

(134) Virg. S.n. v. 798 (not. 194). Consol. Liv. 243.

(135) CatuU. 64, S40, 349.

(136) Stat. Silv. iv. 8, 18.

(137) Stat SiIt. iii. 5, 40: cxbausti Laibesis mihi tempera fati, Te tactum mite-
rata, drdit.

(138) Horat Carm. ii. 16. 39; cf. Propcrt. ii. 1, 17.

(139) Pers. V. 4S: cquali suspendit tempora libra Parca (not 207). Cf. Hor.
Carni. ii. 17, 16.

(140) Ovid. Fast iii. 802.

(141) Virg. £n. xii. 147. Cf. ib. iv. 651 : dum fata deutque aioebaat; and xi.
701 : dum fallere fata tinebant

G5^ The Religlom System [Jan.

sibility of tlie supreme law of nature ever yielding to extraneous
influence. The Parcae, if justly considered as the personified
law of nature, cannot but be without mercy, without passion,
without feeling. They by no means require to be worshipped,
nor even to be spoken of with religious awe : they cannot be
offended by any of those abusive and reproachful titles which we
have seen given to them. It is much more suitable to the con-
ception, which prevailed in the age we speak of, to extol their
restrictive power, to ascribe to them an unkind and even ma-
lignant nature. The wishes of man are often opposed to the
course of events : he sees these ever remain unchanged and un-
controlled by his will; he feels injured by this indifference to his
wishes, which he is prone to ascribe to a hostile will. Thus we
find men disgusted by the course of events, which is brought
about and governed by the Parcae : '" now because they are not
able to hasten it, now because it does not tarry as they wished.
Accordingly, both the slow and the quick Parcae are objects of
their lament.'" But still more is their envy reproached. They
prevent the warrior from returning to his home, they force Ovid
to die under an inclement sky,'^' and keep Horace back from his
favoured seat.'^ They only show to the world whatever is
precious, but do not suffer it to remain;"* they treat young
people like aged men,'" they injure even the statues of the
gods,'" they even put an end to the power of Rome,'** they
favour and promote the treacherous courtier;'*" knowledge both
of past and future events is prevented by them.'"

("142) Sic volvere Paroas, Virg. ^n. i. 22 ; Claud. Rapt. Pros. ii. 6. Sic Atropoit
urget, ib. i. 216. Seriem fatorum pollice ducunt, ib. i. 53. 'I'u fatum ne quaere
tuum, cognosceie Parcae me reticente dabunt, Lucan. vi. 809. Parcarum acta, Stat
Silv. V. 3, 174; Theb. ii. 249; iv. 780 : leges, Silv. Ital. x. 644. Stat. Silv. iii. 3,
21: pigrasque putat properasse sorores. Man. ix. 77, 6 : invidit de tribus una soror
Et festinatisincidit Stamina pensis. Juven. xiv. 28: grave tardas Kxpeotare colus.
Silv. Ital. iii. 96 : iraproperifi cui ducunt fila sorores. Stat. Theb viii. 328: celcres
neu praecipe Parcas; ib. 439: heu ccleres Parcae; Silv. ii. I, 48: Parcis fragiles
urgentibus annos. Cf. Silv. Ital. v. 75. Auson. Parent. 29,5: oimium Lachcsis
properata. Prof. Burdi?. 22, 16.

(143) Hor. Epod. 13, 15, to Achilles. Silv. Ital. iv. 369. Si fata negaot reditus
tristesque sorores, Tibull. iii. 3, 35.

(144) Ovid. Pont. iv. 15,36.

(145) Hor. Carm. ii. 6,9.

(146) Virg. ^n. vi. 870, concerning young Marcellus: ostendent terns hunc tan-
turn fata neque ultra Esse sincnt. Cf. Mart ix. 77, 6 (not 145). Senec. 'I hyest
618: miscet haec illis probibetque Clotho Stare fortunam : rotatomne fatum. Auson.
Parent 13, 7 ; 29, 5. Prof. Burdig. 3, 5; 22, 16. Claudian. Epigr. 36 : pulchris
stare diu Parcarum lege iiegata. Claud. Epist i. 31 : secuit nasceutia fata Livor.

(147) Mart x. 53, 3.

(148) Mart ix. 87,8.

(149) Claudian. Bell. Gildon. 121.
(15U) Claudian in Rufin. i. 176.

(151) Orell. Inscr. 4844 : nee nostra velis cognoscere fata,
Sanguinea palia quK texit provida Clotho.
Probibent nam cetera Parcie Scire. — Virg K.n. iy. 379.

1888.] of the J mien I s-^ Fate. 6S

Their restrictive powers even in these |)oets, is observed par-
ticularly in death. The day of death is that of tlie Parcae:'"
Hannibal, when expecting the death of Fabius, hopes for their
assistance.'" They put man to death either by laying hold of
him,'" or by finishing his texture :'** then they wind off the
spindle ;'* the spindle of a dead man is empty. The Parca
is represented on a gem as finishing one distaff in order to go
over to another, which lies near her full of wool.'** In poets we
find her weighing the pound of wool, which she determines for
every single life.'** 1 herefore there were some, who attributed
mortality itself to the act of spinning, and maintained that life
would be infinite, if the Parca? were removed, and if Jupiter
alone governed : they reproach Lachcsis with emptying the world
by her pounds. '** But this is a singular idea ; generally life is
believed to consist in her pounds : she never adds anything to
it, '*' though her distaff be short. '" On the contrary the same
appears to be too large to the unhappy creature who wishes for
death.'" Violent death is considered as breaking the thread
before the wool is consumed : '" Amphiaraus, being swallowed up
by the earth, finds the Parca? fully occupied weaving his texture,
which now is suddenly torn asunder by them.'** The usual
manner of appointing death, is for one of the sisters to cut the
thread,"* when the wool is nearly consumed, or to break the

(152) See not. 48.

(153) Sil. lul. viii. 6.

( 15-4) Yirg. JEtt. x. 415. Lucan. i. 113: Parcarum Julia saeva Interrcpta manu.
Sil. Ital. iv. 203: Parrae ad Manes traxcre coma.

(155) Virg. JEn. x. 815 : extremaque Lauro Parcse (ila legunt Martial, i, 89,9:
cum mihi supreinoii Liichehis pcrneverit annos ; ib. iv. 51, 9; 73,3; ix. 77, 7. Sil.
Ital. iv. 28: ducentt^sque ultima fila c;randxTos rapuere senes. Stat. Silv. v. I, 156.
Tbeb. vi. 380. Claudian. in Eutrop. ii. 461.

(156) Ovid. Her. xii. 3. Martial, i v. 54,9; Juven, iii. 27.

(157) Ovid. Amor. li. C, 46: stabat vacua jam tibi Parca cole. Senec. Here. Oct.
1083 : consumptos colos.

(158) Toelkeu Kouiglicb Preussischc Gemmtfbsammluug No. 1284.

(159) Per«. v. 47.

( 160) Stat. Silv. T. i. 160 : quantae poterant mortalibu* anois

Acccssisse mone : si tu, pater, omue teneris
Arbitrium : cseco gemeret mors atra barathro
Longius et vacue posuissent stamina Parcas.
Tbeb iii. 612 : Lachesin putri vatuautem sscula penso. Cf. not. 200.

(161) Martial, iv. 54, 9 ; x. 44, 6.

(162) Martial, ix. 18, S.

(165) Juven. x. 250: quantum de legibus ipxe queratur Parcarum et nimio de
ttamine. Stat. Theb. vii. 367 : fetsum vita dimittitc, Parcae.

( 164) Juven. xiv. 219: morieris atamine nondum Abruptn. Cf. Claudian. in
Rufin. i. 157. Sabin. EpisL i.71. Sidon. ApoU. xv.l67: vitam^Kumpere, quam cemas
Parcarum vellere in ipao Nondum pemetam.

(16.5) Stat-Thcb. vii. 11.

(166) Mart. iv. 64, ID : teoifer de tribus una accat ; ix. 77, 7 : incidit atamiiuL

64 Tlie Religious System of [Jan.

thread, '" or to break the distaff at its end. '" Accordingly they are
thought to become weary in great slaughters, as in the civil war
of Ctesar.'* The common opinion assigns this office to Atro-
pos, "" because death is the most unavoidable among all the lots
of man. A monument from the Villa Palombara represents her
holding the double knife in the middle of her sisters, according
to that law of ancient art, which gave this place always to the
most striking figure. "' The act of breaking the thread is as-
cribed also to Clotho, "' or to Lachesis : '" but the last, who very
often has the office of appointing death, usually does so by finish-
ing the texture by unrolling it, "* or she is introduced condemn-
ing, '" hastening the last journey, "' carrying away, '" and exer-
cising her right. '"

The breaking of the thread is performed also by other deities
of death : by the Furies, '" and by Mors. The decree depends
particularly on Pluto : he takes the distaffs away from the Par-
cae with the intention of killing; and gives them back, if he be
moved to spare. "° The Parcae do not only kill but hold also in
death,'" they assist and serve Pluto,'*" they mourn with him, if
his authority be diminished ; ^^ they dwell with him, '** they travel

(167) Lucan. vi. 700 ; StaL Theb. 333j Claudian. Rapt. Pros. ii. 363 ; Orell.
Inscr. 4844.

(168) Val. Flacc. vi. 645 : divina supremus Rumpit iniqua colos.

(169) Lucan. iii. 19: vix operi junctae dcxtra properante sorores

Sufficiunt, lassunt rumpentos stamina Parca;.

(170) Stat. Silv. iii. .3, 127 : floreiitesque manu scidit Atiopos annos ; ib. v. 2, 178.
Inscr. ap. Gruter. 692, 10: C. Laslio c. f. decimo ajtatis anno ab immani Atropo vita
reciso. Int. ad T.actant. ii. 10, 20: Atropos occat Alberic. Deor. Imag. 10. Fulgent.
Alyth. i. 7 : Clotho praeest nativitati, Atropos morti, Lachesis vitx sorti quemad-
modum quis vivere possit. Hygin. fab. 171.

(171) See Welcker Zeitschrift fur alte Kunst, p. 199, sqq.

(172) Seuec. Oetav. 15: utiuam ants manu Grandaeva sua mea nipisset Stamina
Clotho.

(173) Claud. Rapt. Pros. ii. 353.

(174) Martial, i. 89, 9 : perneverit ; ib. iv. 4, 9 (not. 160).

(175) Claudian. Apon. 93: letali stamine damnant.

( 176) Auson. Prof. Buidig. 22, 16 : supremum Lachesis ni celerasset iter.

(177) Auson. Prof. Burd. 3, 5: eripuit Lachesis.

(178) Claud. Bell. Get 54.

(179) Stat. Theb. viii. 381 : in miseros pensura omne sororum

Scinditur et Furls rapuerunt licia Parcis.
And ib. i. 632 : Mors fila sororum Ense nietit.

(180) Martial, vii. 47, 8: non tulii invidiam taciti regrator Averni

Et raptas Fatis reddidit ipse colos.
(161) Propert. iv. II, 13.

(182) Stat. Silv. iii. 3, 186; v. 1,259. Fulgent. Myth. i. 7 : tria etiam ipsi
Plutoni destinant Fata, quarum prima Clotho, sccunda Lachesis, tertia Atropos.
Senec. Here. Octae. 22 : vidi regentem fala.

(183) Ovid. Fast. vi. 757.

(181) Stat. Theb. viii. 13, 191.

1838.] the Ancients— Fate. G5

for him, '** they open and shut the tombs : "* Pluto offers to his
queen dominion over Parcae and over fate. "*

We have seen the gods subject to the Parcie, Jupiter learning
future fate from their archives, '** Mars in vain imploring divinity
for Remus, '* Venus doubting whether the Parcie will grant her
desire. "* It is the common opinion that their decrees can
be destroyed by nothing, not even by the power of any god. "'
This, however, can not be derived from the real Roman religion,
where the Parcae are merely the spirits of the word of Jupiter
allotting destiny. Evident traces of these opinions of the ancient
religion are preserved in the poets. Life is restored to Virbius
by the son of Coronis against the will of Clotho, '"* and the same
god of physicians is celebrated still in Martial for softening the
pounds and the short distaffs of the Parcae by gentle herbs : '"
the Parc« are moved by Orpheus to repeat the texture ; "** Her-
cules forces them to prolonij the same, he knows how to vanquish
death and to break fate by liis hand. '** The gods bestow immor-
tality by dissolving the pound of the Parcre: an idea corresix)nd-
ing with that which we have observed in Statins. '** The Parcae
have no right to injure the Phoenix. '" It is even granted to the
goddess of Appuleius, to abolish the decrees of the Parcae. '"•

(18A) Claud. Rapt. Pros. i. 66: cui no.stra labomiu Stamioa. Stat. Theb. viii.
119: quum Parcip tuajussa trubant

(186) Consol. Liv. 73: Claudite iam, Parcae, iiimium rcserata sepulcm.

(167) Claud. R. Pros. ii. 305 : accipe LeUiseo fannulas cum gurgite Parcas ; sit
fAtum quodcunque voles. Cf. Stat. Theb. i. Ill ; Atropos hoscc novat alque ipsa
Prosc-rpina rultus.

(188) See not. 31. Lactant. i. 2: esse fata, quibus dii omnes et ipse Jupiter
parcat : si Parcarum tanta vis est, ut plus possint, quam coelitcs universi.

(189) See not. 132.

(190) Virg. ^n. v. 798 : si dant ea moenia Parcse.

(191) TibuH. i. 7, 2 (not. 134). Ovid. Met. xv. 780 (not. 31). Consol. Liv. 234 :
non ullis vincere fata dalur (to Mars). CT. Hor. Carm. ii. 17, 16. Silv. luil. v. 76:
heu fati» super! certassc minores ; ib. 406 ; ix. 475 : Pallas uiitiget iras Ncc speret
flxas Parcarum Bcctere logcs ; ib. xiii. 857 : nulli divum inutabile fatum. Mart. ix.
87, 9. Claud. R. Pros. iii. 910: sio numina fata volrimur et nullo I^ebcsis discri-
mine scvit } *

(192) Ovid. Fast. vi. 757.

(193) Martial, ix. 18, 1 : Latnnse venerandc nepos, qui mitibus herbis

Parcarum cxoras pensa brevesque colos.
Claudian. Apon. 67 : Parcarumque colos exoratura severas
Flumina laxatis cmicuere jugis.

(194) Sut.Theb. viii. 59 (n. 135). Senec. Here. Oct 1083: consumtas iUrom
dcse Supplent Eurjdiccs coins.

(195) Stat Silv. iii. I, 171: Parcarum fila tencbo Extendamque colos: duram
icio vincere mortem. Senec. Here. fur. 566 ; fatum rumpe manu ; cf. ib. 611; Here.
Oct. 1952.

( 196) Calpum. F.el. iv. 139: mortalc resolvite pensum et date perpetuo coelesti*
fila metallo. Cf. not. 164.

(197) Claudiau. Phcen. 110: non stamina Pares

In te dura Icgunt : non jus habucrc nocendi.
(196) .Appulei. Metam xi. vers, fln.: dextram, qua Fatorum ctiam Inextricabili-
ter cuntorta retractos licia.

VOL. IV. NO. VII. F

66 The Religious Syntem of [Jan,

As the conception of the Fata and Parcae in ancient rehgion
particularly referred to the temporal limits of life, it is to be
regarded as a just consequence of this opinion, when latter
writers make them rulers of time. The Parcae count the years,
appoint a certain period of time and complete it, appoint the last
day and observe it; '** they weigh time, drive the years and cen-
turies on ;** it depends on them, to give back the single days but
they never do so.*" Time is governed by the sun : the vault of
heaven is its table. This was the reason for establishing astro-
logical principles in the theory of fate. The number of ninety
years which we have seen regarded, according to ancient custom,
as the general space of time for the life of a Roman, was now
referred to the course of the planet Saturn.** The lots imparted
by destiny were believed to depend upon the degrees of the
Zodiac ; these degrees were considered as determining, nay, as
being the fates of men : the lot of a person was presumed to be
governed by the position of the stars at the hour of his nativity:
that degree of the Zodiac, through which the sun passed in the
same hour, was called the lot and fate of the person.*" Whoever
approved this theory, could not but entirely forget the proper
meaning of fate as the word of the gods : they understood by it
only the word of the Parcae, the meaning of which they iden-
tified with that of the Greek ^oipa : as all these opinions were
entirely borrowed from Greek authors. However, they were not
able to keep themselves entirely free from acknowledging an
arbitrary power and will in the government of the world ; but
they now attributed this power, which is conceivable only in a

(190) Sabin. Epist i. 171 (not 121). Ovid. Amor. i. 3, 17; quos dederint annos
mihi fila sororuin. Virg. ^n. ix. 107 : debita Pares tempora complerant. Martial,
iv. 54, 5: observant, ijucm statuere diim. Cf. Stat. Silv. iv. 3, 145 (not. 129); iv
56 : longi cursum dabit Atropos sevi.

(200) Pers. v. 48 (not. 142). Stat. Silv. ii. 1, 148: Parcis fragiles urgentibus
annos. Claud. Rapt Pros. i. 53 : longaque ferratis evolvunt seoula peusis.

(201) Mart. X. 38, 13: ex illis tibi si diu rogatam Lucem redderet Atropos vel
una in.

(202) See not. 53.

(203) This theory is expounded by Manilius Astron. ii. 149: hoc quoque faturum
est legem perdiscere fati. Pcrsius (v. 48) alludes to it, for the scale of his Parca
is that of the zodiac. (Cf. Manil. ii.24l : aequantem tempora Libram). August. CD.
V. 8 : qui vero non astrorum constitutionem, sicuti est cum quidque concipitur vel
nascitur vel inchoatur. Ccnsorin. Die Nat 8: quo tempore partus concipitur,
sol in aliquo signo sit necest^e et in aliqua ejus particula, quem locum conceptionis
proprie appellant. Sunt autum hae partieulae in unoquoque signo tricenac, totius
vero zodiaci numero tricents et sexaginta. Has Graeci /totpac cognoroinarunt : eo
videlicet, quod deas fatales nuncupant t&oipai. Et ese particular nobis velut fata
sunt : nam qua potissimum oriente nascantur plurimum refert. Vitruv. ix. 7, 6 :
Antipater itemque Achinapolus, qui etiam non e nascentia sed ex conceptione gcneth-
liologise rationes explicatas reliquit

1888.] the AncienU — Fute. 67

personal god, to these degrees of the Zodiac.*** This opinion is,
nideed, a most striking apostacy, both tVoni the traditions of
religion, and from the sober reasoning of common sense. We
shall not, however, consider the inoniry into the real character
of the Roman religion diHicult, if we remember that those
remarks, which declare the fates to be nothing but the words of
the gods, date from the same time.^*^

Rhetoricians and grammarians paid their homage lo the
fashionable divinities, bv inquiring into their different characters,
and by distinguishing their offices. 'J hey were not satisfied with
ascribmg the beginning of human life to the first, the texture to
the second, and the end to the third sister;** and to call the first
Clotho, the second I.achesis, and the third Atropos.*" Appu-
leius refers them totally to time : what is Rnished upon the spin-
dle, represents past time, what is turned between the fingers, the
present, and wiiat is resting on the distaf!', the future. The first
IS exhibited by Atro|x>s, for the events of past time not even
a god can undo : Lachcsis, named from the term, signifies future
events, because a god gives their term also to these: Clotho takes
care of present time, warning men to treat every matter with
earnestness. It is deserving ot notice, that the mind, after having
turned away from the indigenous god of the Romans, recurs
again to the acknowledgment of a personal deity.

Art. III. — 1. England and America: a Comparison of the
Social and Political State of both Nations. 2 vols. 8vo.
Bentley. 1833.

2. Report from the Select Committee Co/ the House oj Commons)
on the Disposal of Lands in the Colonies : trith Minutes of
Evidence and Appendix. Ordered by the House of Com-
mons to be printed, August 20th, 1836.

8. The First Step to a Poor Law for Ireland. By H. G. Ward,
Esq. M.P. 1837.

4. First Annual Report of the Colonization Commissioners for
South Australia. Ordered by the House of Commons to be
printed, 25th July, 1836.

(204) Firmic. Matern. Astron.ii. 4 (aot 66).
(20A) S.-e nolt. 10, II, 12.

(206) Ijictant. ii. 10, '2U: trcs Parens esse Tolucnint, unam quae ritam hominU
ordiatur, alleramquc conlcxat, tcrtiam quv runipat ac fiiiiaU
(3(t7) Sc« not. 170.

f2

68 Principles of Colonization — [Jan.

5. The New Zealanders. Library of Entertaining Knowledge.

6. T7ie British Colonization of New Zealand : being an account
of the principles, objects, and plans, of the New Zealand
Association, (Published for the New Zealand Association.)
32mo. 1837.

IN the ordinary progress of society, art must necessarily pre-
cede science. This is doubtless extremely unphilosophical,
but it is nevertheless inevitable. Men find themselves com-
pelled to act without waiting for the establishment of those prin-
ciples on which their acts should be based. As experiment after
experiment is tried, and, we may add, as blunder after blunder is
committed, principles become established. A continuous process
of correction goes on, until at length art ceases to be empyrical
and doubtful, every step becomes based on principle, and the
field of science is made co-extensive with that of practice.

The history of colonization, and especially of British coloniza-
tion, affords a species of running commentary on the doctrine
just laid down. The ultimate establishment of most of our
colonies took place only after repeated failures. The early
history of a colony is a narration of long suffering and misery —
of privation, disease, and death. The great republic of the
West, whose fleets now cover the waters or the globe, once con-
sisted of a few feeble communities, which for years after their
first settlement, dragged on a painful and languishing existence.
Three or four attempts were made to colonize Virginia before
the final settlement took place ; and of twenty thousand persons
who landed there, together with the children who were born to
them, only two thousand souls were to be found at the end of
twenty years. In Carolina, Massachusetts, and in the other
colonies, a similar mortality occurred. What could have been
the cause of all this ? Is such a waste of life inseparable from
the planting of colonies, or, is it that the proper mode of colo-
nizing was not then understood ? We apprehend that the last
question embodies the true solution of the difficulty, and that the
remedy for the evils incidental to the old method of colonizing,
will be found in those few and simple principles, which it is the
business of this article to expound.*

The VEist extent of territory in both hemispheres where
English is now the mother-tongue, bears witness to the extent to
which England has colonized ; — the emigration returns annually
laid before Parliament, exhibit the extent to which she is still
colonizing. The emigration of the present century, however,
proceeds from motives differing widely from those which operated

* We do not feel bound to insist on uniformity of theory, among our contributors,
on so unsettled a subject as Political Economy. — Ed.

1838.] Neto Zealand. 69

on tlie minds of our early colonists. The leading motives to
emigrate which formerly prevailed, were, a thirst for the precious
metals, a desire to avoid religious and i)olitical persecution, a
wish to convert the savages to the Christian religion, or a wild
spirit of adventure. Emigration is now looked to as a means of
improving the condition, ^>*/ of those who emigrate, by the more
profitable field of exertion which a " new country" affords ; and
second^ of the mass of the people, by altering the ratio between
land, labour and employment. It is in the light in which it has
been viewed in modern times, that the subject is worthy of the
minutest investigation.

It is not necessary that we should occupy much space in
proving that nearly all classes of the community feel the difficulty
either of obtaining a subsistence, or of maintaining their position.
The humbler classes of the community are contmually fighting
against star^'ation — the middle class Jigainst a loss of station.
The author of the book at the head of our list, calls the latter the
" uneasy class;" and well has he named it. Farmers, manu-
facturers, merchants, tradesmen, clerks, schoolmasters, employes
of all kinds, are engaged in a perpetual struggle for that class of
subsistence which is deemed decent in their respective walks of
life, and without which they sink in their own estimation and in
that of others. We shall make one quotation from this acute
and graphic describer, to stand as a type of his descriptions of
others, of the uneasy class.

" What condition is more detestable that that of an English gover"
ness ? In England, where poverty is a crime, governesses — young*
beautifu], well-informed, virtuous, and from the contradiction between
their poverty and their intrinsic merits, peculiarly susceptible, are
generally treated as criminals, imprisoned, set to hard labour, cruelly
mortified by the parents and visitors, worried by the children, insulted
by the servants, and all for what ? — For butler's wages. Yet take up
any London newspaper, any day in the year, and you shall find in it a
string of advertisements for the hateftfl situation of governess. There
is an institution in England, of which the object is, to provide for
decayed governesses by means of a small annual subscription from those
who are not yet worn out, and the title of this benefit club is the
* Governesses* Mutual Assurance Society.' Last year, a newspaper
which is read principally by the aristocracy — by Captain Hall's spend-
ing class — noticing the club in question, proposed that it should be
called the * Governesses* Mutual Impudence Society.' This blackguard
joke was uttered to please whom / — the readers of the newspaper in
which it appeared ; a class who employ governesses, a class to whom in
that very newspaper numerous advertisements for the situation of
governess arc continually addressed. An eminent English physician,
whose wife had been a governess, stales, that of the inmates of mad-

70 Princ'fplen of Colonization — [Jan.

houses, the largest proportion consists of women who have been
governesses. Yet lor tliis dreadful and shabbily paid office of gover-
ness, there are, judging from the newspapers, more candidates in pro-
portion to places tiian for any other disagreeable employment; not,
however, that one observes any lack of candidates for other subordinate
employments which require the common run of knowledge, or even
superior knowledge. They talk much of the superabundance of la-
bourers, meaning common workmen ; but these are not more redundant
than governesses, keepers of schools, and clerksof every description." —
vol. i. p. 98.

Of the misery of the great bulk of tlie people, no one, we
believe, entertains a doubt. There is scarcely ever a period at
which some one section of the people is not in a state of dire
distress. To-day it may be the weaver's turn, to-morrow that of
the tarm labourer; and at times scanty employment and dear
food render distress almost universal.

If the distress were confined to the employed, and in no case
extended to the employers of labour, the cause might be sougiit
and would probably be found in some unequal division of the
whole produce. That the condition of the labourer is greatly
affected by the proportion of the whole produce which he is
enabled to secure as wages, cannot be denied ; but when we reflect
that the class employing labour — the capitalist class, is not free
from distress, we must look deeper for a cause than the existing
ratio between labour and capital. We must look for it in some
circumstance affecting the gross produce destined to be ulti-
mately divided between the labourer and capitalist, in tlie shape
of wages and profits. There are doubtless many circumstances
which may alFect the gross produce, such as excessive taxation,
restrictions on trade, and so forth. These may be called acci-
dental or removable. There is one which is essential to and
inseparable from the progress of society ; we mean the proportion
which the fertile land in convenient situations bears to the
capital and labour of the community.

This is so important an element in the condition of the com-
munity, and one so necessary to be understood before we can
hope duly to appreciate those fundamental principles of coloniza-
tion which we are about to enforce, that we must crave the
reader's attention to a brief exposition of the phenomena which
take place as population crowds upon territory.

So long as the population of a country is moderate, the food
which is required for its subsistence is produced under the most
favourable circumstances, that is, with a minimum outlay. That
land only is cultivated which affords the largest return after
replacing all outgoings. Generally speaking, the best soils in

1838.] New Zeaitnd. 71

the most favourable situations — market and manure both con-
sidered— are alone resorted to ; and so long as no more food is
required than these favourably circumstanced lands will yield,
the condition of the people is at its maximum state of comforL

The instant, however, the nmnbers of the community have
encreased to an extent to render the best circumstance<i lands no
longer adecpiate to the production of the required quantity of
fooa, it becomes at once necess^iry to resort to lands which do
not yield an equal return for a given outlay. The manner in
which this is in practice brought about, is by an advance in the
price of corn. This is the warning to extend cultivation. At
first the advance may be too small to give it the necessary
impulse. Sooner or later, however, the condition is fulfiUetl,
and when it is, we may conceive three different ways in which
the increased supply may be raised.

1. The pro<lucers of food may resort to land of somewhat
inferior quality — land yielding let us suppose one tenth less than
the land previously in cultivation.

2. They may resort to laiids of equal quality, but situated at
such a distance from the market, that the cost of conveyance
thereto will be equivalent to the difference of fertility as above
stated. That is, they will yield as much produce, but one-tenth
will be expended in conveying such produce to market.

3. Instead of resorting to inferior soils, or to lands at a distance
from the market, the producers may expend more capital and
labour upon the lands already in cultivation. The condition of
this course is that the increased expenditure consumes not more
than one-tenth of the produce.

Calling the produce resulting from a given quantity of land
10(), the result of what we may call the second stage of cultiva-
tion would be only 90. The community, taken as a whole,
becomes poorer by the process, not in the ratio indicated by the
above numbers, but in some smaller ratio, determined by the
proportion of food raised under the new circumstances. Thus
suppose half the food required by the nation be raised under the
most favourable circumstances, and the other half under either
one of the circumstances above enumerated, the loss of the nation
in the aggregate will be not one-tenth, but one-twentieth only.
But although the nation, at a whole, would only lose one-twentieth
on five per cent, an entirely new distribution would take place.
Some, as we shall pri>sently see, would gain by the necessities of
the nation, and this gain by a few would of course enhance the
loss suffered by the rest. This we shall at once explain.

The instant the demand for food raised the price, competition
would commence for those lands which yielded their produce

72 Principles of Colonisation — [Jan.

with the minimum of labour and capital, or in other phrase,
which gave forth a maximum of produce for a given outlay of
labour and capital. The owners of what we have called the best
circumstanced lands, would be enabled, by the force of competi-
tion, to appropriate to themselves the difference between the
produce of the lands just brought into cultivation, and the pro-
duce of those already in cultivation. In the case supposed, this
difference would be one-tenth of the whole produce, which dif-
ference would constitute what is properly called rent.

Now it is quite clear that this difference is not lost to the
nation. It remains in the hands of one class of the community,
namely, the owners of the land. But it must be equally obvious
that it is a deduction from the gross amount of produce to be
ultimately divided between the labourers and capitalists. Pre-
vious to the creation of rent by the growing necessities of the
people, the labourers and capitalists would divide the whole pro-
duce between them, according to a principle of double competi-
tion of capitalist against capitalist, and labourer against labourer,
which we need not farther allude to in this place. Supposing
the division to be equal, the labouring class would get 50, and the
capitalist class would get 50. After the creation of rent, how-
ever, these two classes would find less to share. They would
share the whole produce of the lands taken into cultivation at the
second stage, but from the best circumstanced lands they would
be compelled to submit to a deduction of one-tenth. Thus for
every 100 which they before shared, they would now divide
only 90; and supposing the double competition to remain as
before — supposing the ratio between labourers and capitalists to
remain unchanged — both classes would be equally injured. In
plain English, both wages and profits would fall. Hence we
may assume as a general principle, that the moment population
advances to a point to render a greater quantity of food necessary
than the best circumstanced lands are adequate to furnish, both
wages and profits will exhibit a continued tendency to decline.

The reasoning may be pursued to the case of a nation demand-
ing more food than could be raised in lands of the first and
second degree combined. In such a case, there would be a new
creation of rent at every stage, and of course a diminished
quantity of produce to be divided between the capitalists and the
labourers. In supposing still that the ratio between these two
classes remained unchanged, they would suffer equal deterioration
of condition. Profits and wages would both fall at every stage.

But it may be urged that this reasoning applies only to agri-
culture. What becomes of wages and profits in all other em-
ployments? Are they affected by the diminbhed return to

1888.] Ueu^ ZeaUmd. 73

agricultuml industry? Clearly they are. In all employments,
the rules of wtiges and profits have a perpetual tendency to con-
fonn with those which prevail in the production of food. This
is the natural result of freedom of competition. If for a time the
profits arising from the employment of capital in manufactures or
trade were greater than what were employed in agriculture,
capital would cease to flow towards the latter branch of industry,
and would seek employment only in the former branches. This
would go on until profits were equalized in all employments.
The warning to apply capital and labour to one employment
more than to another, is the price of the article produced, and so
delicate a measure of the desireableness of a given channel of
employment is price, that it generally produces its effects without
any important disturbance.

Enough has been said to show, that the condition of both the
capitalist and the labourer is subject to continued deterioration
as society advances beyond a certain point. This deterioration
is, of course, checked by all sorts of discoveries, such as improved
processes of manufacture — modes of communication, and so forth.
Nevertheless, it is susceptible of proof, that all other circumstances
duly allowed for, the limited extent of thejield of production is
the most conspicuous cause of the continusJiy declining condition
of the community.

An enlargement of the field of production may take place by
means of a free trade in corn and other articles, whilst a con-
traction thereof may be brought about by means of a corn-law
similar to that of Great Britain.

Suppose, for instance, that the increase of population is such
as to require the cultivation of land of the third degree, the pro-
duce of which is represented by the figure 80. Let us farther
sup|)ose a discovery to be made, that by employing the labour
and capital necessary to produce these 80 quarters, in manufac-
tures, and by carrying the said manufactures to a neighbouring
country, and exchanging them for food, a quantitj' equal to that
raised on land of the second degree might be obtained. What
would be the result? Importation of corn, in exchange for ma-
nufactures ex|)orted, would commence. Instead of a return for
labour and capital indicated by figure 80, the result would be a
return represented by the figure 90. The threatened decline of
wages and profits would be arrested, and rent would make no pro-
gress. This is equivalent to an extension of the field of production.

But, if the power of making laws to bind the community
rested, as in England, in the land-owning class, they would be
able to impose a prohibitory tax, so as to let matters take their
cour8(>. In such a case, the field of production would not be

74 Principles of Colonization — [Jan.

extended ; lands of the third degree would be taken into cultiva-
tion ; rents would make progress ; and the deterioration of the
condition of the labourers and capitalists would go on without
check. This is the British corn-law, which operates as a limita-
tion of the field of production.

The merit of stating clearly the doctrine of the dependence
of the condition of the people, as a whole, on the extent ot the field
of production, is indisputiibly due to the author of England and
America. This merit we are by no means disposed to under-
value. We hold it to be great, because it has cleared up the
theory of colonization, and thereby removed an inculculable
amount of honest opposition to the practice thereof. But in his
ardour to make the most of his discovery, (for such we are justi-
fied in calling it), the author, we conceive, has imagined a differ-
ence with our great writers on political economy on the doctrine
of rent, which really does not exist. Because Mr. Mill begins
his chapter on rent with the proposition, " Land is of different
degrees of fertility," he is accused of leaving other circumstances
out of the account. This is scarcely justifiable. Mr. Mill's
object was, to produce an elementary treatise on the science of
political economy. It was therefore desirable that his state-
ments should be as general, or, so to speak, as theoretical as
possible. Fertility, therefore, is seized upon as the most conspi-
cuous cause of rent likely to come under the observation of the
readers whom Mr. Mill was addressing. In America, it may be,
that locality is a cause in more constant operation. We, who
have been in America, know that it is. Nevertheless, it would
have been wrong in a writer on the elements of the science, to
take, as his type, the case under the general law, which prevails
in another country rather than in our own. All that Mr. Mill
contends for is, that in every country " one portion of the
capital employed pays no rent," and, that rent is, " the produce
which is yielded by the more productive portions of capital over
and above a quantity equal to that which constitutes the return
of the least productive portion, and which must be received to
afford his requisite profits, by the farmer." — Elements, page 39.

This statement is certainly sufficiently general to include any
circumstance causing a difference in the return of capital employed
on land. Had Mr. Mill written a course of the science, complete
in all its details, we are quite sure he would have included every
circumstance affecting rent, down even to a railroad or a chemi-
cal discovery.

In a note on rent, forming one of a series of logical definitions
of politico-economical terms, at the end of Archbishop Whateley*s
logic, Mr. Senior, (for by him the notes in question are under-

18S8.] New Zealand. . 75

stood to have l)een written), has generalized the expression, so
as to nu^t all that the author of England and Imericn could
|x)ssibly include amoni^ the causes of rent. In an admirable
essay on the subject, forming the note, " Rent" to Mr. M'Cul-
loch's e<lition of the IW'nlth o/* Mi//on*, distance from market
is carefully expatiated upon, — not as a difference between the
writer of that note and the political economists, but rather as an
amplification of a doctrine fully recognized by his predecessors,
and already to be found in all his existing treatises.

In short, the author of Kngland and America^ appears to us to
have left the doctrine of rent substantially where he found it.
His contribution to the science — and a very important contri-
bution we beg to assure him we deem it — consists in pointing
out the part which the comparative extent of the field of pro-
duction plays in determining the productiveness of capital and
labour united; or, in other words, in determining the condition
of both classes of producers.

The author's views, however, are so admirably put throughout,
and, moreover, so aptly illustrated, that we are tempted to make
rather a long extract, the more espe<'ially as it embo<lics nearly
all the points under discussion. VVhile resolving the difficulties
connected with the questions of rent, profit, and wages, the
author tells us, he had the ";ood luck to fall asleep — good luck,
because, during his sleep, he had a dream, " wliich explained
why profits and wages both together are so low in England and
so nigh in America." — p. 110.

To be brief, he dreams, that he is cast upon Robinson Crusoe's
Island, and after " viewing his improvements," the following is
the subject of their chat, over a " very respectable dinner of fish
and roasted kid :" —

*' Dreamer. * Altogether, Mr. Crusoe, you seem quite at your ease.*

" Robiiis>jH. ' Why, yes, blessed be God I but I have had my trials.
It was a sore trial, when I was ulj^iged to sow the seed that I would
fain have eaten, and when I had no Friday to lielp me ; but I have
been verj- comfurtable since I got before the world, with a good stock
of seeds, tools, and goats : nay, since I lighted on Friday I have lived
like a gentleman— quite at my ease, as you say.'

** Dreamer. ' You are a capitalist now, Rubinson.'

" Robinson. • Capitalist ! — what's that ?'

" Dreamer. ' Why, seeds, tools, goats, are capital, and as you possess
these, you are a capitalist : Friday works : you direct him, and give
him a share of the produce : Friday is a labourer.'

^' Rubiniun. 'A labourer I Yes, he works:- a share! He takes,
what he pleases.'

" Dreamer. ' Of course, — hi>fh wages of labour, eh ; aud high projits

76 Principles of Colonixatiom — [Jan.

of stock also, or you would not be so much at your ease, Mr. Robinson

Crusoe.'

" Robinson. ' I have forgotten some of my English. High wages
of labour: — high profits of stock I What are they ?'

" Dreamer. * In this island, high wages mean, that you can let Friday
take what he pleases, without stinting yourself; and high profits mean,
that Friday takes what he pleases, without stinting you. Friday's
labour, with the aid of your seeds, tools, and goats, produces plenty
for both of you.'

"Robinson. 'Yes — but hark! man Friday I friend I down upon
your knees I here's another earthquake !'

" And sure enough it was a terrible earthquake ; for though it hurt
none of us, and did not last above a minute, when we recovered our-
selves, and passed from the cave through the enclosure, and over the
outer fence, every part of the island was covered with water, except
the rock which formed the cave, and about half an acre of land in front
of us. Robinson and his man knelt again, and returned thanks to God
for having preserved our lives; whilst I stood by, distressed to think
of what would become of them with only that half acre of land.
Crusoe's calmness and resignation were quite admirable. Rising, he
embraced Friday, saying — ' the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away ;
blessed be the name of the Lord I' Poor Friday, however, began to
cry, and I felt disposed to keep him company, when Robinson pointing
to the enclosure, said — ' We have plenty of food left for a year, seed,
tools and goats ; capital, sir, I think you called them ?'

" ' But what,' I asked, ' is the use of capital without ajield to employ
it on F Your goats will be starved, and, with no more than this little
bit of land, you will be unable to use half your tools, or a quarter of
your seed.'

" Robinson looked rather blank at this, but said, — We must do with
less ; there will be less for Friday, and less for me, but enough, I hope,
to keep us alive.'

" ' Low wages and lowprojits,' said I, * but that is a shocking state to
be in. Cannot you set Friday to make, with the tilings that are left
from your wreck, instruments and ornaments for some neighbouring
savages, who have more food than they know what to do with ?'

" ' Our neighbours', answered Robinson, * would make food of us if
they could.'

" ' Oh I' said I, * I had forgotten that restriction on trade.' * •

After quizzing the economists, at the expense, however, of con-
founding gross profits and wages, with proportional profits and
wages, so clearly distinguished in other parts of the work, the
author justly concludes :

" The only way in which Robinson and his man could get back to
high profits and high wages would be, by yetting back the land that
they have lost."

Hitherto we have supposed with our author, that deteriora-
tion of condition is equally distributed, — that is, that profits

18S8.] New Zealand. 11

and wages decline tostether from the diminished whole, to be
shared between capitalists and labourers. If, however, the due

ftroportion between the former and the latter be altered, equa-
ity of division no longer prevails. If, for instance, the number
of competitors for employment has increased in a greater ratio
than capit^il, their comi)etition will cause a reduction of wages,
or, in other words, of the share of the whole produce, (a dimi-
nished whole by the supposition) to be divided. A diminution or
division of capital would have the same effect. Thus, while the
whole produce was represented by the figure 100, it might be,
that capitalists received 50, and the labourers 50; but if when pro-
duction fell to 90, the ratio between labour and capital were altered,
competition might compel the labourers to accept 40, in which
case the capitalists would still receive their 50. They would, in
short, receive more than the proportion which they had been
accustomed to receive. Profits and wages then are affected toge-
ther, by the diminution of the whole produce to be divided ; they
are farther affected (but in opposite directions) by the proportion
in which the produce is shared. The political economists have
dwelled too exclusively on the latter circumstance ; the author of
England and America, has leaned jierhaps a little too much to
the former. The reader will do well to keep both in view.

We are now prepared to look a little more closely at our sub-
ject. What old countries esj)ecially require is land. Capital
and labour they have in abundance — in excess. But what is
meant by this constantly repeated assertion of the excess or re-
dundancy of labour and capital, and especially of the former ?
All tliat can be meant is, that they are in excess, us compared
with land. If we say labour is in excess, we may mean as
compared with capital ; but when we say capital is in excess, we
cannot mean as compared with labour, because wages continue
at a minimum rate. Speaking then of capital alone, or conjointly
with labour, as being in exces^ we can only refer to land.

Now in some countries there is as yet nothing but land ; in
others land is so abundant that it may be said practically to be
without limit. These are called new countries. Of these
countries the wants are labour and capital; sometimes we hear
complaints of the want of the one, sometimes of the want of the
other. As the capitalist has generally a louder voice than the
labourer, or to speak more by the card, has better means of
making his voice heard, the most constant cry is want of hands.
If however hands be wanting, we may be quite sure capital
will avoid the spot. Capital and labour are therefore the wants
of "new countries."

Old countries, then, having what new countries want, and

78 Principles of Colonization — [Jan.

wanting what new countries have; it follows that if an inter-
change can be brought about, both countries will be benefited.
To bring about this interchange is the problem sought to be
solved in all systems of colonization.

We need not remind the reader that in usino; the term inter-
change, we speak somewhat metaphorical 1}'. The land cannot
be moved, it is true, but benefits arising from its use can.
Mahomet, the reader will recollect, solved the difficulty by
" going to the mountain." In like manner, labour and capital
must be moved to the abundant field, and on such conditions as
to benefit the country parting therewith. The benefit should
be mutual, or the country not benefited will cry out. Moreover,
if our system be so bad as to be injurious to both, it is quite
clear we shall have friends no where.

Colonization, then, is the removal of a portion of the capi-
tal and labour of a country where both are in excess, to a
country where either they do not exist, or are deficient.

Keeping the doctrine above laid down constantly in view, —
we mean tlie doctrine of proportional wages and profits as well
as gross wages and profits, the object to be sought must be to
produce or retain in both the colonizing and the colonized coun-
try that due proportion between land, capital, and labour, which
is likely to produce the maximum of comfort to all parties. If
we send away labour only, there can be no successful esta-
blishment in the new country, for want of the co-operation of
capital. If we send away capital only, it is powerless in the
new country without labour, the labourers at home are injured
by a reduction of proportional wages ; and, if production be
impaired, by a reduction of gross wages also. All our former
systems of colonization proceeded on a plan to embody all pos-
sible evils. They promoted the transfer of both labour and
capital, it is true, but they all interposed an insuperable barrier
against the co-operation of labour and capital. They made the
capitalist work alone, and the labourer work alone, and the
result was always poverty and sometimes famine. Let us cite a
recent case of colonization on wrong principles, from the Evi-
dence of E. G. Wakefield, Esq., before the Select Committee of
the House of Commons, the Report of which we have placed
among the works at the head of this article : —

" 590. Chairman.} What do you consider the most striking prac-
tical evil resulting from too great a profusion in granting land ? — The
most striking, because it happens to be the last, is the new settlement
of Swan River in Western Australia.

" 591 . In what way is that the most striking 1— That colony, which

1888.] Netc Zealand. 79

was founded with a general hope in this country, amongst very intelli*
gent persons of all di^scriptions, that it would be a most prosperous
colony, has all hut perished. It has not quite perished, but the popu-
lation is a great deal less than the number of emigrants ; it has been a
diminishing population since its foundation. The greater part of the
capital which was taken out (and tliat was very large) has disappeared
altogether, and a great portion of the labourers taken out (and they
were a very considerable nunjber) have emigrated a second time to
Van Diemen's Land and New South Wales. The many disasters which
befel this colony (for some people did actually die of hunger,) and the
destruction of the colony taken out to the Swan River, and the second
emigration of the people who went out, appear to me to be accounted
for at once by the manner in M-hich land was granted. The first grant
consisti^d of .vOO,000 acres to an individual, Mr. Peel. That grant was
marked out upon the map in England — 500,000 acres were taken round
about the port or landing-place. It was quite impossible for Mr. Peel
to cultivate 500,000 acres, or a hundredth part of the grant; but
others were of course necessitated to go beyond his grant, in onler to
take their land. So that the first operation in that colony was to create
a great desert, to mark out a large tract of land, and to say, * this is a
desert — no man shall come here ; no man shall cultivate this land.' So
far dispersion was produced, because upon the terms on which Mr.
Peel obtained his land, land was given to the others. The Governor
took another 100,000 acres, another person took 80,000 acres ; and the
dispersion was so great, that, at last, the settlers did not know where
they were ; that is, each settler knew that he was M'here he was, but he
could not tell where any one else was ; and, therefore, he did not know
his own position. That was why some people died of hunger; for,
though there was an ample supply of food at the governor's house, the
settlers did not know where the governor was, and the governor did not
know where the settlers were. Then, besides the evils resulting from
dispersion, there occurred what I consider almost a greater one ; which
is, the separation of the people and the want of combinable labour.
The labourers, on finding out that land could be obtained with the
greatest facility, the labourers taken out under contracts, under engage-
ments whicii assured them of very high wages if they would labour
during a certain time for wages. Immediately laughed at their masters.
Mr. Peel carried altogether about three hundred persons, men, women,
and children. Of those three hundred persons, about sixty were able
labouring men. In six months after his arrival he had nobody even to
make his bed for him, or to fetch him water from the river. He was
obliged to make his own bed, and to fetch water for himself, and to
light his own fire. All the labourers had left him. The capital, there-
fore, which he took out, viz. implements of husbandry, seeds and stock,
especially stock, immediately perished ; without shepherds to take care
of the sheep, the sheep wandered and were lost ; eaten by the native
dogs ; killed by the natives and by some of the other colonists, very
likely by his own workmen ; but they were destroyed ; his seeds pe-
rished on the beach ; his houses were of no use ; his wooden houses

80 PrincijJes of Colonization — [Jan.

were there in frame, in pieces, but could not be put together, and were
therefore quite useless and rotted on the beach. This was the case with
the capitalists generally. The labourers, obtaining land very readily,
and running about to fix upon locations for themselves, and to establish
themselves independently, very soon separated themselves into isolated
families, into what may be termed cotters, with a very large extent of
land, something like the Irish cotters, but having, instead of a very
small piece of land, a large extent of land. Every one was separated,
and very soon fell into the greatest distress. Falling into the greatest
distress, they returned to their masters, and insisted upon the fulfil-
ment of the agreements upon which they had gone out; but then
Mr Peel said, " all my capital is gone : you have ruined me by desert-
ing me, by breaking your engagements, and you now insist upon
my observing the engagements, when you yourselves have deprived me
of the means of doing so.' They wanted to hang him, and he ran
away to a distance, where he secreted himself for a time, till they were
carried off to Van Diemen's Land, where they obtained food, and
where, by the way, land was not obtainable by any means with so great
facility as at the Swan River." — p. 53-4.

The above extract clearly points out the vicious principle of
all former methods of colonizing. Land was made as cheap as
possible. It was given to whomsoever might ask for it ; with all
sorts of conditions it is true, but which conditions never were
fulfilled, simply because it was impossible they should be ful-
filled. The most prominent and most common condition was
that the settler should clear and cultivate a certain small propor-
tion of his lot. In some few cases this was done ; but how could
it always be done, if the man with tools and seed could not
prevail upon the man with hands only — the labourer, to work for
him, whilst the latter could not prevail upon the former to grant
the loan of his tools and seeds on any terms. " Oh ! the capi-
talist should engage labourers on contract." To this the fate of
Mr. Peel supplies an answer, but it had been answered by a
thousand failures before Mr. Peel thought of colonizing the
Swan River.

A very moderate degree of reflection should convince us that
this must be the case wherever land is given away or sold for a
price merely nominal. In old countries the possession of land is
looked to as the highest object of ambition. It gives wealth, power,
station, nearly every thing in short that is worth desiring.
Hence the first desire of an industrious settler in a new country
is to become an independent freeholder. High wages are offered
him, he scorns them, he will have land. He is reminded that he
has no plough, not a bushel of seed, not a week's supply of provi-
sions. No matter ; he came out to be free, not a slave : — he will
have land. Land accordingly he takes. It may happen that by

18S8] Sete Zeal,in<l. 81

dint of much toil and hard privation, he does manage to extract
6onie subsistence from tlie soil ; but years must pass away before
he can place himself and his family in a state of ease. His
neighbours too, if neighbours tliey can be called, are much in
the same state. They, hke him, are isolate<l, and although they
may on important occasions meet and assist each other, still,
generally s|)eaking, there is not mucli co-operation and combina-
tion amongst them.

The settler with capital is not much better off' than the mere
labourer. So much capital as he and his family can employ is
efficient ; the rest is lost for want of hands. Air. Peel might
have found use for one of his spades certainly — the rest, were
they ninety-nine or nine hundred and ninety-nine, were useless.
In short, to allow every man to take land is to sever the bundle
of sticks; the remedy consists in requiring an uniform price
per acre for all land without exception. How this remedy would
work, so as constantly to secure the due proportion between
people, capital, and land, we proceed to show.

A price for land must necessJirily conn^l every man to labour
for hire until he shall have saved a sufficient sum to enable him
to possess himself of land; and thus a constant supply of labour
will be afforded. This security of a supply of labour operates at
once upon the capitalist. He is no longer deterred from colo-
nizing by the dread of a fate similar to that of Mr. Peel and of
many others. Once in the new country, with a conviction that
labour will be forthcoming, he offers in the shape of wages far
more than the labourer could possibly draw from the soil by his
own unaided labour.

To fulfil the desired conditions of a due supply of both capital
and labour, and at the same time to prevent dispersion, tlie price
must be " sufficient, but not more than sufficient." This "golden
mean," as Mr. Wakefield in his evidence calls it, will of coui*se
differ under different circumstances, and nuist be determined by
trial. There is no difficulty in this. If the first price fixed be
too low, two evils will take place. Labourers will cease, too early,
to labour for hire; the co-operation of the capitalist and labourer,
and the necessary combination of lalx)ur, will be thereby pre-
vented; and land speculators will be induced to obtain land with
a view to having the same in a desert state. To such an extent
has this latter evil gone in the Canadas, that nearly all the
most eligible lands are out of the hands of government and in
the hands of a parcel of jobbing officials. On the other hand,
if the price be too high, all the evils incidental to old countries
would be brought about. Labourers would be compelled to
work for hire for an indefinite time, without hope of obtaining

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. <J

82 Principles of Colonization — [Jan.

the much desired land ; they would therefore have but small
inducement to leave their native country. Neither would capi-
talists have any motive to colonize ; for, although the existing
stock of labourers would be at their mercy, there would be no
hope of a new supply. In short, too high a price would act as
a tax on the land, and therefore as a limitation of the field of
production. In other words, it would convert a new into an old
country, by " confining the settlers within a space inconveniently
narrow." This is of course supposing they would be so con-
fined. If they would not, we should have the high price inope-
rative; that IS, squatting without the pale of the settlement
would take place, and all the evils of dispersion would arise from
the system intended to .prevent it. Here then we have a beacon
on each side of us to warn us from too high as well as too low a
price ; and when no capitalist wanted a labourer, and no labourer
wanted employment, when the moment a labourer could pur-
chase more land than he himself could cultivate, that he also could
find a labourer, then it might be safely aflBrmed that we had hit
upon the golden mean.

" This golden mean obviates every species of bondage ; by providing
combinable labour ; it renders industry very productive, and maintains
both high Mages and high profits ; it makes the colony as attractive as
possible both to capitalists and labourers ; and not merely to those, but
also, by bestowing on the colony the better attributes of an old society,
to those who have a distaste to the primitive condition of new colonies
heretofore." — Colonization of Hexo Zealand^ p. 15.

The resort of this first principle of colonization, namely, the
sale of lands, necessarily carries with it this result — that a con-
siderable sum of money is placed at the disposal of the colony.
In the United States of America, where the price of land is
considered to be below the "golden mean," where dispersion
takes place to a considerable extent, a sum of twenty-four mil-
lions of dollars (£5,000,000 sterling) was received into the
Treasury in 1836. As the revenue derivable from other sources
paid the expenses of government, the land revenue was a surplus.
In any colony where land is abundant, and where government is
economically conducted, a similar result must occur. In South
Australia, where the first year's expenses are limited to £ 5,000,
the land fund must necessarily yield a large surplus. Such must,
indeed, be the case in any colony established on the principles
we are advocating. Hence we come to the question : — How does
the new system of colonization propose to employ this fund? —
We answer, in conveying labourers to the colony.

The principle of sale in itself supposes the transfer of capital
to the colony ; the employment of the purchase-money in the

18«8.] Nent Zealand. 88

manner indicated, provides for the transfer of the due propor-
tion of labour. If no guarantee of a supply of labour were held
out, capitalists would not buy land, no one would be found to
bid the upset price. It is only by thus employing the land fund,
that the "sufficient price" can be perpetually tested. If we
could suppose the possibility of finding a set of capitalists who
would continue to buy land without any such guarantee, who
would, in short, submit to the squandering of their money by a
set of colonial officials ; the evil would be great to this country.
Capital would here diminish, and the labourers would suffer from
a diminution of proportional wages, as already explained. The
preservation of tne " golden mean" in the new country, acts ad-
vantageously in the old ; it provides that there be no transfer of
capital without a concurrent transmission of labour.

" These, then, are the two main features of the new system ; that
the disposal of waste or public land should be by sale only, and at a
sufficient price for the objects in view; and that the purchase money
of land should be emploj'ed as an emigration fund." — Colomzalion of
New Zealand, p. 17.

The grand object to be attained in managing the expenditure
of this fund, is to make the greatest possible impression, but in
opposite directions, on the population of both the old and the
new countrj'. We have seen that in old countries, whilst both
capitalists and labourers are continually suffering by the dimi-
nished return from the land, labourers are liable to a farther
deterioration of condition by the tendency of their own numbers
to increase faster than the means of employing them. In new
countries, on the other hand, the converse state of things pre-
vails. Whilst the productiveness of capital and labour must for
a considerable time continue at its maximum, there is an addi-
tional tendency in labour to fly from its co-operation with
capital ; — the labouring class being rapidly converted into capi-
talists by the facility of saving. In other words, there is a per-
petual tendency to an advance of proportional wages. The
remedy is to accelerate the transfer of labour by means of selec-
tion as to age and sex, and so convey the greatest ^erm of increase
at the least expense.

On all former systems of emigration, it was absurd to hope to
make any impression on the population of Great Britain and
Ireland. Taking the population at 24,000,000 the power of
increase is not less than 800,000 aiuiually. Tlie actual increase,
however, is only 180,000; and the only reason why the full
power of increase does not operate is because the means of
subsistence is limited. If any increase of marriages and births
were to take place, there would be a corresponding increase of

o2

84 Principles of Colonization — [Jan.

mortality. The increasing means of subsistence will permit an
annual increase of 180,000 and no n.ore. If any sudden addition
were made to the means, the power of increase would make fresh
exertions up to at least 800,000, and perhaps even more. The
average increase of population in America, by means of procreation
alone, has been for a century equal to the maximum above stated.
In the most favoured situations the iricrease has been equal to
a proportion of 1,000,000 annually, for a population equal to
that of the British isles.

With this power of increase, then, we should not make any
effect on population by means of a promiscuous emigration, until
we have gone beyond 620,000; for there would still remain a power
of increase equal to the production of the number which the
annual increase of our means of subsistence was adequate to
support. To keep population stationary, at least 800,000 would
require to be removed annually; and it was on account of the
utter impossibility of doing this, that Mr.Wilmot Horton's scheme
of emigration by families failed.

By selection, however, the attainment of the object comes at
once within the limits of probability. Out of a given number
of persons, the procreative power resides in a portion only of
the whole number. We are not about to investigate the exact
proportion, — that is the business of those who are busied in
investigating the average expectation of life, and other features
exhibited by our population. All we wish the reader to admit is
that the procreative power resides in a portion of the population,
and that, therefore, the removal of that portion will be as efficient,
considered in reference both to the old and the new country, as the
removal of the whole. But the economy of selection may be pushed
farther than tliis, by removing the young couples which annually
reached the age of puberty. The result would be that we should
absolutely destroy the germ of increase in a small number of
years. In twenty-five years the population would consist of
persons above forty and under fifteen. Children would almost
cease to be born, and in fifteen years more there would be only
persons over fifty-five years of age ; whilst the recipient country
would exhibit a population in its maximum state of efficiency.

The voluntary emigration from this country has occasionally
extended to an amount sufficient, if selected, to have produced
the most marked effects on population. In 1832 the emigration
to America was at least 110,000, to say nothing of that which
took place to Australia, the Cape, and other colonies. This num-
ber consisted of person of all ages, and of an undue proportion
of males ; it was, therefore, not more efficient than a selected
emigration of 20,000 or 25,000. Had the emigration of 1832,

1«38.] iV<w Zeuhind. 85

(at least 120,000 to all the colonies,) been selected, it would have
been as efficient as a promiscuous emigration of between 700,000
and 800,000.

With regard to an excess of males the effects are most
disastrous, not merely on population but on morality. The
horrible results produced by this single error in the art of
colonizing in New South Wales would scarcely be credited.
These results are of a nature to preclude us from farther alluding
to them. The effect of such disproportion on population, however,
should be clearly understood. This we shall do in the words of a
Canadian Newspaper, being an extract from a statistical account
of the population of Upper Canada in 1832.

" Our present population," says the writer, " is 260,992, consisting of
Males - - ' - - - - 137.859

Females 123,133

Deficiency of Females ... 14,726

Proportion of Males to Females - 1 1 19 to 1000
The effect of this great deficiency must materially reduce the rate of
increase below that which would be exhibited by an equal proportion
of the sexes. Its injurious effect on the population is far greater than
is indicated by the numbers, inasmuch as it promotes incontinence to an
extent sufficient, we should say, to destroy the fecundity of as many
more. To reduce the statement to figures : our population of 260,992,
consisting of 137,859 males, and 123,133 females — that, is wanting
14,726 females— would only be as prolific as a population of 216,814
equally proportioned, instead of one of 246,266. In other words there
would be perpetually 14,726 females and 29,452 males wholly inope-
rative in continuing the race."

Want of selection, united with dispersion, was the reason why
the first 20,000 emigrants to Virginia were reduced to less than
2,000 in 20 years ; and the population of New South Wales has
hitherto been kept down by the same means. When we deal
with live stock we do not act so absurdly. There we observe a
careful selection, both as to age and sex. Imagine a New South
Wales sheep breeder taking out three or four males to every
female. Wliy he would be laughed to scorn for his absurdity ;
but let us hear the able author of the system on this point : —

" In any colony the immediate ett'ect of selecting young couples for
emigration would be to diminish very much the ordinary cost of adding
to the population of the colony. The passage of young couples would
not cost more than that of any other class, or of all classes mixed ; but
along with the young couples the colony would gain the greatest possible
genn of future increase. The settlers of New South Wales, who in
the course of a fi'w years have made the colony to swarm with sheep,
did not import lambs or old sheep; still less did they import a large
proportion of rams. They have imported altogether a very small

86 Principles of Colonization. [Jan.

number of sheep compared with the vast number now in the colony.
Their object was the production in the colony of the greatest number of
sheep by the importation of the least number, or, in other words, at the
least cost ; and this object they accomplished by selecting for importa-
tion those animals which, on account of their sex and age, were fit to
produce the greatest number of young in the shortest time. If a like
selection were made of the persons to be brought to a colony, with the
purchase money of waste land, the land bought, it is evident, would
become as valuable as it could ever become, much more quickly than
if the emigrants should be a mixture of persons of all ages. In the
former case not only would the emigrants be all of them of the most
vahiable class as labourers, but they would be of a class fit to produce
the most rapid increase of people in the colony ; to create, as soon as
possible, in places now desert, a demand for food, for the raw materials
of manufacturers, for accommodation land and for building ground.
The buyer of new land, therefore, would have his purchase money laid
out for him in the way best of all calculated to be of service to him."
England and America, \o\. W.-^. 2\^-^\^. » » * « #

" By the proposed selection of emigrants, moreover, as the greatest
quantity of relief from excessive numbers would be comprised in the
removal of the least number of people, the maximum of good from
emigration would be obtained not only with the minimum of cost, but,
what is far more important, with the minimum of painful feeling.
All that old people and children suffer more than other people, from
a long voyage, would be avoided. Those only would remove who were
already on the move to anew home ; those only to whom on account of
their youth and animal spirits separation from birth-place would be the
least painful ; those only who had just formed the dearest connexion ;
and one not to be severed but to be made happy by their removal.
And thus the least degree of painful feeling would be suffered by the
smallest possible number of people." ib. p. 230. • * * *

Each female would have a special protector from the moment of her
departure from home. No man would have any excuse for dissolute
habits. All the evils which have so often sprung from a disproportion
between the sexes would be avoided. Every pair of emigrants would
have the strongest motive for industry, steadiness, and thrift. In a
colony thus peopled there would scarcely be any single men or single
women ; nearly the whole popidation would consist of married men and
women, boys and girls, and children. For many years the proportion of
children to grown up people would be greater than was ever known
since Shem, Ham, and Japhet were surrounded by their little ones.
The colony would be an immense nursery, and all being at ease, without
being scattered, would aflx>rd the finest opportunity that ever occurred
to see what may be done for society by universal education. That must
be a narrow breast in which the last consideration does not raise some
generous emotion." — ib.

We shall conclude this branch of the subject with a quotation

1838.J New Zealand. 87

from the evidence of Mr. Wakefield, given before the Waste
Lands G)mmittee. In answer to a question from the Chairman,
relative to selection, Mr. Wakefield says : —

" 898. I once made a calculatioD by which it appeared to me, that
if all the convicts who had been sent to New South Wales had been
young person?, in an equal proportion of the sexes, just arrived at the
age of maturity, the population of New South Wales would have been
500,000, instead of what it actually was when I made the calculation,
50,000. It appeared to me that the selection of emigrants would
enable you in the course of a certain number of years (about 48 years
was I think the term of my calculation) to place in the colony ten times
as many people, with any given sum, as you could place there without any
selection at all : or rather, perhaps, in that case, I ought to say with a bad
selection, for in New South Wales the worst possible selection was made;
a large proportion of males, and women past the age of child-bearing,
and when not so aged, yet in a situation where the great excess of
males puts marriage or child-bearing altogether out of the question.
That was the worst possible selection ; but the difference between the
best and worst appeared to me to be as ten to one^ * * ♦ •

",899. {Mr. Roebuck.) ' Do not you think that there is a slight
inadvertence of expression, * you would be able to place in the colony a
larger number of persons ?' do you not mean that you would be able to
carry out the means of increasing the future population to a {i;reater
degree ?' — ' I ought to have used the expression • to establish in the
colony ;' for the object is to establish the largest number in the colony
by means of the removal of the smallest number.' "

We have dwelt at some length on the effect of the principle
of selection, and on the neglect thereof, from the strong sense
we entertain of its practical importance. We have now only to
offer a few observations on what we shall call the time-saving
feature of the plan.

Unless some mode of providing an immediate emigration fund
be adopted, it is quite clear that the plan of colonization as a
whole, could not be carried iato effect. One part of the scheme
would lag behind the other, and the whole might be wrecked
with the means of relief within sight. By means o( anticipating
the future sales of land, however, or raising money by way of
loan on the security of future sales, the whole effect of the system
could be produced at once. In founding the colony of South
Australia, both these plans have been adopted with complete
success. Sales of land were made in London to emigrating ca-
pitalists, and the money so raised was expended in providing the
means of sending out selected emigrants. The South Australian
act authorized the Commissioners to raise £20,000 by way of
loan, and that £3J,000 should be raised by land sales before the
colony should be established. The conditions of the act were

88 Principles of Colonization'-^ [Jan.

speedily fulfilled, jiiid all accounts from the colony warrant us in
affirming); that the first application of the principles of colonization
which form the " New British System," has bef:'n abundantly
successful. A community, small it is true, but complete in all
its parts, has been established (we use the word advisedly) in the
desert. All the elements of civilization are there transplanted
at once. A scientific institution — the j^rowth of an advanced
state of society — was formed in London before the first ship
sailed. This society even commenced its sittings in London,
carrying out with it not merely a stock of scientific instruments
and the groundwork of a library, but even a record of its transac-
tions. The first number of the South Australian newspaper was
printed in London ; the second, printed in the colony, has already
been received. The science and literature of South Australia
were too impatient in their character to wait for the establish-
ment of the colony. They, like the other parts of the system,
have found it necessary to work by anticipation.

We have now said all we think necessary on the principles of
colonization. They are, we beg to remind the reader, three in
number, namely —

L That land be sold at a sufficient price to secure the due
proportion between labour, capital, and land.

2. That the proceeds constitute an emigration fund.

3. That emigration be selected as to age and sex, so as to
remove the greatest germ of increase at a given cost.

To enable these principles to be applied together, a fund must
be raised by anticipation. This cannot be called a principle,
but we have taken leave to designate it the " time-saving fea-
ture" of the plan — a term which best explains the nature of its
operation. We now conclude this first portion of our task, bv
strongly recommending the reader to examine the works which
we have placed at the head of this article. The first is worthy
of perusal on many grounds, and the evidence of Mr. E. G.
Wakefield in the second, contains the latest developrnent of
that gentleman's views of a system, the authorship of which will
one day entitle him to the gratitude of unborn millions, of great
and powerful nations.

Hitherto we have been engaged in discussing principles; we
now come to the application of those principles to a particular
case: our remaining pages will be devoted to the examination of
the question as to the adaption of New Zealand as a fit and
proper field for the application of the new system.

The especial feature which adapts a country for the purposes
pf colonization, is the abundance of land compared with popula-
tion. This we shall presently see New Zealand eminently

1888.] Nefc Zetiliind. 80

possesses. When we sav that laud is tlie chief requisite, we of
course mean hind capable of yieldinj^ a better return to labour
than the averaj^e of that under cultivation in the colonizing
country. There is plenty of " land" in the Arctic region, in the
African deserts, in Arabia Petraja, but it is not such land as men
are wont to seek. What they want is neither the " sandy" nor
the " rocky ;" it is the " happy." They want land of con-
siderabli? fertility, under a climate favourable to production.

The accounts which travellers give us, bear witness that New
Zealand fulfils these conditions.

New Zealand comprises two islands, called North and South
Island. The latter is the larger of the two, and if they were
placed side by side, instead of end to end, they might have well
been namrd Austral Britain. In dimensions they do not fall
much short of our islands, and in ivitttral fertility of soil, and
especially in climate, they are superior, being seven or eight
hundrwl miles nearer the equator than we are. They are the
nearest land to our antipodes. This general statement will be
easily understood if the reader will take the trouble to turn first
to a map of the world, and then to the most authentic map of
the country itself. The following extract from the work placed
last on our list, will sufficiently bear out our statement.

" Tlie Islands of New Zealand are situated between the S-ith and
48th degrees of south latitude,- and the 166ih and 179th degrees of
east longitude. They are the lands nearest to the antipodes of Great
Britain ; — a central point taken in Cook's Strait, which separates, and
is about equidistant from the northern and southern extremities, of the
two principal islands, being seven hundred miles from the antipodes of
London, with the advantage of being to that extent nearer to the
etjualor. • • • « ♦

" In shape it is an irregular and straggling oblong : and in detached
position from the nearest continents, New Zealand bears some resem-
blance to the British Isles. It ^resembles them in other matters of
greater importance. Like them, surrounded by the sea, it possesses
the same means of ready communication and of rapid conveyance to
all parts of its coasts ; and the same facilities for an extensive trade,
within its numerous bays and rivers. The temperature of the warmer
latitudes in which it is placed, is influenced or regulated, as in Great
Britain, by the refreshing and invigorating sea breezes, and the whole
line of coast abounds with fish, in great variety and of great delicacy. • •

" By the latest, and, it is believed, the most accurate account, the
area of the Northern Island is computed at forty thousand English
square miles, while that of the Southern Island, — of which Stewart's
Island may he considered an appendage, — is considerably more than
one third larger. The extent of the two islands must be at least

90 Principles of Colonization — [Jaii.

ninety-five thousand English square miles, or above $ixty tnilliota of
square acres.

" The face of the country presents many striking objects to arrest
and engage attention. There is a range of vast mountains traversing
the centre of the whole length of one island, and the greater part of the
other ; — bays and harbours are scattered in profusion along the shores
of both islands: — and there is a continual succession of rivers and
lakes, extensive forests, valleys, open country and plains, from one end
of the islands to the other.

" The mountains of New Zealand stretch along the centre of the
Southern Island, for its whole length, and along the better half of the
Northern Island ; and sloping gradually down towards the sea level,
leave an immense extent of forest, plain, and pasture, on both sides of
the mountain range, between it and the sea. A few of the smaller
mountains are barren or clothed with fern ; but by far the greater
number are covered, up to the range of perpetual snow, by magnificent
timber of enormous size, and of great variety of kinds.

" These mountains, from their vicinity to all parts of the island, and
their great elevation, exercise a constant and most beneficial influence
on the climate and vegetation. The clouds which collect on their
lofty summits, descend and disperse in refreshing and never failing
showers, over the whole extent of the country. Hence the luxuriance
and rapidity of vegetation ; the never-fading foliage of the trees, and
the equal temperature and salubrity of the climate throughout the
whole year. Innumerable streams descend from them, on both sides,
supplied from the perpetual snows, on their summits, and collecting
into deep and navigable rivers, fall into the sea, on both sides of the
island, at a distance from their source, in some instances of two hun-
dred, and in several of above a hundred miles. To the same cause
may be ascribed the absence of droughts and hot winds, which con-
stantly threaten, and too often blight, the crops and pastures of some
parts of Australia. In fine, from all accounts that have been obtained,
the climate of New Zealand would seem to combine the warmth of
southern Italy with the refreshing moisture and bracing atmosphere of
the English Channel." — British Colonization of New Zealand, pp.
75-79.

From the above extract we learn that the islands contain at
least 60,000,000 of square acres of land. What proportion is fit
for cultivation is not stated ; but as the vegetation is " luxuriant,"
the foliage " never-failing," and the mountains " magnificently
timbered up to the very margin of perpetual snow," we may fairly
assume that New Zealand has not more than her due share of
the rocky and the sandy.

Over this fine country is scattered a mere handful of people.
In the work we are now making use of, we do not see the
number stated, but various estimates of tlie population have been
made, ranging from 100,000 to 150,000. To say that the

1838.] New Zealand. 91

country is extensive enough for a population of a hundred times
the larger number, is to speak far within the truth.

The native tribes of New Zealand are of course the masters of
the soil. Now it is proposed by the New Zealand Association
to obtain from the natives a sufficient breadth of land for the
purpose of colonization ; not as the majority of the early set-
tlers in America effected a similar object — not by driving the
natives, like noxious beasts, from the fairest sjjots — not by the
united aid of ardent spirits and gunpowder — not by " extin-
guishing their titles" alter the modern American fashion ; but,
\\\ imitation of the high-minded and excellent Penn, by fair and
honourable purchase, or by the voluntary concession of the
natives. The proposal is to obtain from the native chiefs, not a
right of sovereignty over the whole territory, but simply both a
right of property and a right of sovereignty over a sufficient
quantity of land for the purpose contemplatecf. That is, recog-
nizing the' sovereignty of the native tribes over so much of the
territory as they may choose to retain, but taking care that over
so much thereof as they may freely and voluntary alienate, the
sovereignty, as well as the property, is transferred. The views
of the Association are thus expressed.

" In all our proceedings, the national independence of the

New Zealanders, already acknowledged by the British Government in
the appointment of a resident, and the recognition of a New Zealand
flag, must be carefully respected, and especially, that we should not
attempt to convert any part of the country into British territory with-
out their full, free, and perfectly understanding consent and approval.
This we should term a principle of the association, if it were not obvi-
ously a consequence of the priticiples before laid down.

" But although property in land, and the sovereign rights of the
chiefs, will be established by native institutions; and although the different
tribes, in concert with and represented by their chiefs, are, not merely
willing, but anxious to make cessions of territory for the purpose of
British colonization, yet, from the want of any central native autho-
rity— in consequence of the complete independence upon each other
of the several tribes — it is impossible that the whole territory as re-
spects property in land, or the sovereignty of the whole territory as
respects government, should be at once ceded to the British Crown.
It is only by a gradual process, that the advantages of regular govern-
ment can be extended to the whole of New Zealand.

" The first step will be, to obtain from those tribes which are already
disposed to part with their land and their sovereign rights, certain por-
tions of territory, which would become part of her Majesty's foreign
possessions. Here British settlements would be formed with regular
government. And then it b proposed, that all persons residing within
the British parts of New Zealand, should enjoy the rights and privt-

92 Principles of Colonization — [Jan.

leges of the rest of her Majesty's subjects. The natives would part with
land, which they scarcely know how to cultivate, and with a doniinion
which they are incapable of exercising beneficially ; and in return, they
would obtain, besides the price in money or goods actually paid for the
lands ceded, all the rights of British subjects, with the advantages, not
merely of protection against other British subjects, but also the foster-
ing care of a power deliberately exerted with a view to placing them,
as soon as possible, on terms of intellectual, moral, and social equality
wi(h the colonists." — Br. Colonization of Naw Zealand, p.54t.

Of the more than willingness — of the eager desire of the New
Zealanders to divest tiieniselves of a portion, both of their pro-
perty in the soil, and their sovereignty, the work before us con-
tains ample evidence. They, in fact, entertain exalted ideas of
the powers possessed by Europeans, and, on all occasions, they
evince a desire for an active intercourse with Great Britain,
purely for the advantage which such intercourse carries with it.
There is scarcely a year in which some New Zealanders do not
travel to this country to learn; and the facility with which they
practise various mechanical arts, is acknowledged by all who have
written about them. The following extract from the " Library
of Entertaining Knowledge," is long enough to require an apology
from us : — our apology is, that it contains more in a given space,
concerning the New Zealanders, than we have been able to meet
with elsewhere.

" Of all the people constituting the great Polynesian family, the
New Zealanders have, of late years, attracted the largest proportion of
public attention. Their character exhibits, with remarkable boldness
of relief, many both of the virtues and vices of the savage state. They
present a striking contrast to the timid and luxurious Otaheitans, and
the miserable outcast of Australia. The masculine independence they
at once manifested in their first encounters with us, and the startling
resistance they offered to our proud pre-eminence, served to stimulate
the feelings of curiosity with which we are now accustomed to regard
them. The interest which they thus excite, is probably created in a
great degree, by the prevailing disposition in our minds to regard with
anxious attention any display of human power. The New Zealanders
are not a timid nor a feeble people: from the days of their first inter-
course with Europeans, they gave blow for blow. They did not stand
still to be slaughtered like the Peruvians by the Spaniards ; but they
tried the strength of the club against the flash of the musket. They
have destroyed, sometimes treacherously, always cruelly, the people of
many European vessels, from the days of their first discovery to our
own times ; but it would be difiicult to say, that they had no justifica-
tion in our aggressions, whether immediate or recollected ; or, at any
rate, that they did not strongly feel the necessity of self-defence on aU
such occasions.

" They are ignorant of some of the commonest arts ; their clothing

1888.] Netc Zealand, 9S'

is rude, their agriculture imperfect ; they have no knowledge of metals ;
writing is unknown to them; and yet they exhibit the keenest sense of
the value of those acquirements Mhich render Europeans so greatly
their superiors. Many of the natives have voluntarily undertaken a
voyage to England, that they might see the wonders of civilization ;
and when they have looked upon our fertile fields, our machines for
the abridgment of human labour, and our manufactories, they have
begged to be sent back to their own country, with the means of imi-
tating what their own progress enabled them to comprehend were
blessings.

" Their passion is war ; and they carry on that excitement in the
moat terrific way that the fierceness of man ever devised ; they devour
their slaughtered enemies. And yet, they feel that this rude warfare
may be assisted by the art of destruction which civilized men employ,
and they can»e to us for the musket and the sword, to invade or to re-
pel the invader. All these, and many more features of their character,
shew an intellectual vigour, which is the root of ultimate civilisation.
They are not insensible to the arts of cultivated life as the New Hol-
lander is — or wholly bound in the chains of superstition, which con-
troul the efforts of the docile Hindoo, and hold his mind in thraldom.
They are neither apathetic as the Turk, who believes that nothing can
change the destiny of himself or his nation, nor self-satisfied as the poor
Tartar, who said—' Were I to boast, it would be of that wisdom I have
received from God ; for, as on the one hand, I yield to none in the
conduct of war, so, on the other, I have my talent in writing, inferior,
]>erhaps, only to them who inhabit the great cities of Persia or India.
Of otiier nations unknown to me, I do not speak.**

" The New Zealander knows his own power as a savage ; but he
also knows, that the people of European communities have a much
more extensive and durable power, which he is desirous to share. He
has his instruments of bone, but he asks for iron ; he has his club, but
he comes to us for a musket. Baubles he despises. He possesses the
rude arts of savage nations in an eminent degree : he can carve elegantly
in wood, and he is tattooed with a graceful minuteness, which is not
devoid of symmetrical elegance. Yet he is not insensible to the value
of the imitative arts of Europeans, and he takes delight in our sculp-
tures and paintings. His own so'cial iiabits are unrefined — his cookery
is coarse — his articles of furniture are rude ; yet he adapts himself at
once to tlie usages of the best English society, and displays that ease
and self-confidence, which are the peculiar marks of individual refine-
ment He exhibits little contradiction between his original condi-
tion of a cannibal at home, and his assumed air of a gentleman here.
Add to all this, that he is as capable of friendship as of humanity, and
we shall have no difficulty in perceiving, that the New Zealander pos-
sesses a character which, at no distant period, may become an example
of the rapidity with which the barbarian may be wholly refined, when
brought into contact with a nation which neither insults nor oppresses,

• History of the Tartars, quoted in Ferguson's Civil History.

94 Principles of Colonixution — [Jan.

and which exhibits to him the influence of a benevolent religion in con-
nexion with the force of practical knowledge."

Here, then, we have a countrv furnishing, not merely the
grand requisite to European colonization— land ; but also a
population of some extent, which has been fortunate enough to
have given proof of the possession of an energetic character, such
as to make it worth our while to civilize, rather than to destroy.
This is the true rationale of the matter. To talk of ourselves
as " a nation, which neither insults nor oppresses," is a piece of
the coarsest self-adulation. Wherever we have colonized, there
have we both insulted and oppressed. The negro we have for-
cibly used: the American Indian we could not so use; him,
therefore, we have destroyed. The " influence of a benevolent
religion," has never been exerted to improve the worldly welfare
of tne natives, and the most speaking result of European inter-
course is, that the coloured races have thereby been taught to
paint their devil white. The New Zealander has, by the energy
of his character, taught us, that he is neither to be used nor
destroyed, so we must make a virtue of necessity, and civilize him.

In their intercourse with Europeans, the New Zealanders
have been subjected to the influence of two classes of persons ;
first, to that of a lawless population, consisting of runaway
sailors, and convicts from New South Wales — the very outcasts
of an outcast society ; and, second, to that of Christian mission-
aries. Nothing can be more shocking, than the conduct of the
majority of the Europeans settled in New 2>ealand. In 1885,
they numbered about two thousand, and the example set by
them to the natives was a continued course of the most disgust-
ing immorality — of the most revolting crimes. The second
chapter of the work before us, gives a description of the outcast
British population of the country, and if the reader desire more
ample details, he may turn to the evidence collected by the com-
mittee on Aborigines in British colonies. For our purpose, it
will be sufficient to state, that the influence of this population
has been, to foster and encourage all the vices of savage life, and
to superadd those which areusually found accompanying civiliza-
tion. Treachery has been encouraged to exercise itself with supe-
rior cunning. Murder has been taught to operate with European
instruments. Tribe has been set upon tribe for the attainment
of the most trifling objects. In short, on all occasions, the re-
vengeful passions of the natives, so far from having been checked,
have been made to subserve the purposes of the settlers. With
this frightful load of evil, however, it caimot be denied, that some
advantages have been mixed up. Low, indeed, in knowledge,
must be that European, who cannot teach something to a savage.

1888.] New Zealand, 95

The advantages derivable from traffic, have been exhibited by
the Euroj)eans to the New Zealandors, and the practice of many
of the arts of civilized life has also been im|>arted. That the in-
tercourse of riie New Zealanders with this population, has not led
to their total destruction, as a similar or rather much less vicious
intercourse is rapidly doing in the case of the American Indians,
is owing chiefly to the superior energy of the character of the
former, and to their peculiar susceptibility to the civilizing in-
fluences— influences which the American Indian character seems
to repel. " On s'ennui dans le village" — said a young Huron —
** mais on ne s'ennui jamais dans les bois."

The influence exercised by the missionaries, is the second in-
fluence to which we have alluded. Judging from the evidence
presented by the volume before us, it is not too much to say,
that all the moral improvement which has taken place may be
attributed to the exertions of these cultivators of the great moral
waste which the country in question presents. With these mis-
sionaries the Association has wisely determined to co-operate.

We are well aware that a prejudice exists in the minds of
many persons of intelligence and sound judgment, against the
employnient of religious missionaries generally, as practical
civilizers of the savage races. Our own knowledge leads us to
believe that such prejudice, though often unwarrantably strong,
is not wholly unfounded. The mere undertaking of such a
mission presupposes a considerable degree of religious enthu-
siasm, amounting not unfrequently to fanaticism. This is a
mental state to which the weak in intellect and judgment are
especially liable. The persons so afflicted — we cannot but so
deem it — are apt to shut out all considerations but the spread of
their peculiar religious dogmas. So long as they gain "profess-
ing" converts, their sole end is attained. Such men may perhaps
check, in some small degree, what they deem the sinful prac-
tices of a savage, but they do not much contribute to his moral
improvement; they do not so* mould his mind, so improve his
habits, so stretch his knowledge, as to render him an miproved
instrument of happiness to himself and others.

The New Zealand missionaries, however, are not of this
vulgar-minded class. They have shown themselves to be men
of more enlarged benevolence. The good they have effected is
abundantly conspicuous, and we repeat that the Association has
done wisely in securing their co-operation.

Whilst we thus spealc in decided terms of the sound policy of
co-operating with the missionaries, we can only afford a qualified
approval to the church policy of the Association.

" It is proposed," says the * Plan,' *' to defray from the common
fund of the colony, the expense of erecting places of worship, and of

96 Principles of Colonization. [Jan.

paying the ofRciating ministers. ♦ * • In the distribution of this
portion of the colonial funds, no preference should be given to anj
one denomination of Christians. Whenever a certain number of
families, either in the settlements or about to emigrate, should combine
to form one congregation, they would be entitled to the means of
erecting a place of worship — whether church, chapel, or meeting-house
— and to a salary for their minister." — p. 68.

For a limited period, tliis plan is perhaps not open to grievous
objection ; but wlien a community has attained to a considerable
ffrowth, the effect may be " to bribe the clergy into idleness."
This proposal was made by David Hume with tliis avowed object,
he considering that the idleness of the clergy was less hurtful to
society than their activity. The New Zealand Association,
however, can have no such design — they perceive that the clergy
liave done incalculable good, and they desire to attract a greater
number of such good-doers by means of a reward. Tiie men
who have already devoted themselves to the civilization and reli-
gious instruction of the New Zealanders, could only have
done so from pure and exalted motives ; to reward them is
doubtless a safe determination ; but when, by a well-con-
certed plan of colonization. New Zealand is maae a desirable
place of residence, wh^n, moreover, a reward is held out to an
emigrating priesthood, it is much to be feared the effect openly
desired by Hume may take place. It appears to us, that the
clergy of each denomination should be supported by their respec-
tive flocks ; there would then be the strongest motive to useful
exertion.

We shall now conclude. We could easily have drawn more
copiously from this interesting volume, but the length to which
we found it necessary to extend our exposition of the principles
of colonization, compels us to abridge our remarks on this
especial case of their application.*

Art. IV. — Premier M&moire sur les AntiqviUs Chr^tiennes, —
Peintvres des Catacombs. Par M: Raoul Rochette. —
Extrait du Towexiii des M&moires de f Academie des Inscrip-
tions et Belles I^ttres. 4to. Paris. 1836.

SINCE the age of Sixtus V, when the Roman catacombs, and
other monuments of Christian antiquity, in the Holy City,
emerged from the obscurity and neglect in which they had lain
for so long a period, they have not ceased to engage the attention

* We understand that the Government have promised the grant of a Charter to
the New Zealand Association. — En.

1888.] Chrhtitm Atttlqmtios. 97

and excite the inquiries of the learned. Still, neither the ardour
with which these studies have Ikvu pursued, nor the success
which has attended them, have suffice<] to preserve them from
the fate of every branch of historical or philological science.
The immortal men, who rekindle<l the expiring embers of ancient
knowledge, had appliwl to the study of these antiquities with
tliat intensity of devotion, which led them on every occasion to
identify themselves with the object of their research ; but these
inquiries had to pass the cold ordeal of scepticism and unbelief,
betore tliey recovered their due rank in the esteem of the world.
Bosio, and his follower Aringhi, merely collected these remains
of Christian art, without observing in them any connexion with
the heathen monuments an)oii<rst which they first apjx?ared ;
even the judicious observer Boluetti, confined himself too nnich,
perhaps, to the theological jx)int of view in which they may be
considered, without paving sufficient attention to the high anti-
quarian and historical importance, which more critical sagticity
would have drawn from them. In this respect Bottari's work*
is very valuable, although it does not reach that degree of per-
fection, which antiquarian studies have acquired since the time
of Winklemann. The unpretending simplicity of early Chris-
tian art was despised by the sceptics of the last century ; but
that age is past, and the superior advantages of the present state
of science, have been employed by the learned of this genera-
tion, who unite science with religion, in the illustration of those
neglected remains. To Visconti and Settele amongst the Italians,
and MUnter and Rostell in Germany, we are indebted for
several learned and interesting works on Christian archa?ology.
The splendid productions of art in the middle ages drew the
attention of their admirers to the rude and im|KTfect attempts
which had preceded them ; and D'Agincourt and others were
led to trace the progressive development of art, from the mosaics
which adorn the old churches, to the paintings and sculptures
hidden in the sacred shade of the catacombs. These venerable
monuments seemed, in the first stages of their inquiries, to be
merely rude and timid essays in a new style of art, but not
to have any connexion, beyond the similarity of a few symbols,
with the religious art of ancient Ilouie. But from the number
of classic emblems preserved by them, Baron Ilumohr, and
otlier learned inquirers, were convinced of the necessity of inves-
tigating the elements and principles by which these Christian
artists were guide<l. For tliis purpose, they institutetl a com-
parison between the specimens of painting and sculpture in the

* Sculture e pitture eatralte dai Cimiteri. Rome, 1737. S vols. Tol.
VOL. IV. — NO. VII. H

98 Christian Antiquities. [Jan.

catacombs, and the state of art during the last centuries of the
Roman Empire; and from this comparison, they have been
enabled to prove, beyond contradiction, that the first Christian
artists adopted not only the images, but the principles of their

Predecessors, and continued their style and manner of execution,
n this line of inquiry, M. Raoul Kochette's work is a farther
step. Aided by an extensive and profound acquaintance with
the elements, progress, perfection, and decay of ancient art, he
has undertaken to illustrate, in a series of essays, the close con-
nexion, which he supposes to subsist, between the paintings,
sculptures, glass vessels, and other remains found in the cata-
combs, and the classic art of the Romans ; with reference
chiefly to the subjects of them, or the uses to which they were
applied. The first of this series of essays, which treats of the
paintings of the catacombs, answers fully the expectations which
the well-merited celebrity of the author had excited. We shall
follow him in his demonstration, which is generally complete and
convincing; although, on some points, he indulges too much in
conjectures.

There is no reason to fear that the result of these inquiries
will tend to diminish the veneration with which these specimens
of Christian art have been regarded. Religion gains by truth ;
and it is her noblest triumph that, without yielding to the mighty
and all-prevailing influence of the religion and world, in the
midst ot which she arose, she purified and hallowed their
images and principles of art, by adapting them to a more divine
form of worship. The catacombs existed before the Christians
began to use them. Under the Republic, there were, out of
the Esquiline gate, extensive mines of puzzolana, which served
as burial places for the poor. According to the different pur-
poses for which they were used, they were termed arenarife and
puticuli,* and though they were diminished in number and
extent, by the villa which Maecenas erected in that place, some
parts of them were open in the following centuries. It is very
probable that the Christian cemetery near the ancient church
of St. Bibiana, called ad ursum pihatum, was on the very site
of the pagan one, which we know to have existed in that neigh-
bourhood.f If the Christians inherited the burial-places of
their forefathers, why may they not have followed their manner

• See Cic. pro Cluent. c. 13. Varro L.L. iv. p. 18, 12. Festus a. v. puticulos.

t M. Raoul Rochette (p. 41) supposes that the catacombs of S.S. Peter and Mar-
cellinus, near St. .Tohn Lateran, correspond to the ancient arenarue. But, as it it
positively stated by Horace, and ethers, that Ma^enas built his famous villa just
upon them, a villa which we know from Tacitus (Ann. xv. 39), and Suetonius (Neron.
c. 32), to have been on the site ol the modern villa Negroni, north of the Esquiline
gate, his conjecture does not seem well founded.

1838.] Christian Anlitfuities. 99

of adorning them? But, while they adopted their images and
emblems, tliey laid aside their profane application, and invested
them with a (leep and holy significancy. This important change
is not sufficiently kept before the reader, though satisfactorily
proved and recognised by M. Ilochette. In fact, we very often
find in the catacombs the figure of Orpheus, in a Phrygian dress,
the well-known cap on his head, the lyre in his left hand, sitting
amongst various animals that are listening to his song. But it is
not the Orpheus of Greek mythology whom we behold, but the
mysterious teacher and prophet of revealed truth ; that other
Orpheus, whom the pagans, in the closing days of their religion,
no longer pleased with the oft-told fables of their poets, and
imbued with the tenets of the Neo-platonic and Oriental
philosophy, almost allowed to have alluded, in obscure poems, to
the future bliss of a redemption ; whom Alexander Severus,
anxious to supply, by a kitid of compromise between the differ-
ent creeds of his age, the want of a united and general religion,
joined in his lararium with the images of Jesus Christ, Abraham,
and Apollonius of Tyana ; whom Theophilus of Antioch, and
Clement of Alexandria, taught to be a symbolical representation
of God made man, and alluring the hearts of men by the charm
of his words.* Among the animals grouped around him, we
observe the peacock, the emblem of immortality, the dove,
symbolic of internal peace, which are the blessings of faith and
baptism. Some of these paintings contain the figure of an old
man, whose dress, features, and appearance, resemble those of
the famous statues of the Tiber and the Nile; this classic image
is used to represent the sacred stream of Jordan. Orpheus, we
have said, stands for a prophet and forerunner of Jesus Christ
amongst men ; the sibyls, sometimes by themselves, sometimes
joinetl with the prophets, appear as his female foretellers. So
indeed they were generally considered. Their books had been
collected by Augustus, and ^uring the time the Empire lasted,
they were field as oracles ; and the Christians, even those in high
stations, such as Constantine, soon began to refer their predic-
tions to our Saviour. The Christians, as has been observed
before, continued to use, as if by right of inheritance, the
sepulchral ornaments of their ancestors ; and this remark is
illustrated from the figures of the Muses, who, as in the sepulchre
of the Nasonian family, appear to sing the praises of the de-
ceased. One of the most curious examples of this mixture of
Christian and classic style of art, is a picture on one of the arched
monuments in the cemetery of St. rriscilla,t under the ancient

* Clem. Alex, cohort ad gent in prinio.

t Bo«o. Rom. Boiler, p. 474. Bottari Pittare, t. iii. Uv. dx. p. 100-1.

b2

100 Christian Antiquitief!. [Jan.

Via Salaria, the most celebrated of the catacombs. It repre-
sents a Christian, perhaps a martyr, surrounded by emblems of
the meritorious actions of his life. On each side, is apparently
one of the muses, as in the Nasonian tomb. On the two cor-
ners, above the arch, are figures of Victory, in the attitude of
flying, who hold a palm ana wreath above his head ; while in
the interior of the vault, are two victors in the games, with their
usual dress, seated on a quadriga, and holding a palm and
garland in their hands. We see likewise pegasus and the eagle,
animals which, in ancient tombs, are symbolic of the apotheosis
of the deceased. In one part is a Bacchanalian, with a thyrsis
and bunch of grapes in her hands, and followed by a panther.
All these emblems are well understood, when found on ancient
sepulchres; but in a Christian cemetery, they have another
meaning, which is easily discovered. The whole painting ex-
hibits the course of a well-spent life, compared to the race in
the circus ; and closed by a glorious end, indicated by the palm
and garlands borne by the figures of Victory ; and rewarded by a
happy immortality, shadowed forth by the image of Pegasus and
the eagles. We may observe, in passing, that the emblem of
victory with a palm and garland, by a decree of the Congrega-
tion of Relics and Indulgences, published at Rome in 1660, is a
valid proof that the inmate of the tomb on which it is, had been
martyred. The bacchanalian would embarrass us, if we did not
know the constant reference made by Christian and ancient
artists to the seasons of the year in which persons had died, espe-
cially to that season, in which men are reaped by death, or
pressed like mature grapes to prepare them for a better life. We
have chosen one picture for all, to show, by one example, how
the symbols of two religions, at first view so repugnant in their
application, may be reconciled together. Besides the natural
and usual meaning of many of these images, there was another
cause which led to their employment, arising from a mutual dis-
position in both Christians and heathens to adopt some of the
customs or symbols of each other ; on the part of the hea-
thens, who sought to revive their religion, and regenerate its
influence, by professing and admitting aoctrines borrowed from
all the philosophical systems of that period ; on the part of both,
to apply to their own religion all the various prophecies which
were afloat in the last centuries of the empire, to rely on tlie
false poems of Orpheus and the Sibyls, and to believe in the
tenets of the Neo-platonic philosophers ; but many were led, by
an excess of this disposition, into the Gnostian heresy.

The image of the Bacchanal just mentioned leads us to speak
of one of the emblems, most frequently to be seen not only in

18S8.] Christian Antiquit'a, 101

the Catacombs, but out on Sarcophagi, and executed in mosaic
on the walls and roofs of the Basilicas ; it is taken from the di(^
ferent stages of the vintage. The allegorical meaning of vines
and grni)es is eminently Christian, and is based on the express
words of our Saviour (S. John xv. 8). But, in the Catacombs,
this allegorical image is seldom used in the original form, in
which our Saviour is compared to a vine. Some lamps,* on the
side of which the Good Shepherd is represented, witli a border
of grapes round the edges, are the only remains that seem to
allude to the allegory of St, John. On the other hand, the complete
allegory drawn from grapes, matured by the seasons, and pressed
by Genii into costly wine, which we admire on several ancient
monuments, especially in the wonderful Vatican Sarcophagus,
and the Mausoleum of Constantine's daughter (now the Church
of St. Constantia out of the Porta Pia), is entirely copied from
Greek or Roman originals, the adoption of which, and their ap-
plication to a Christian meaning, was authorised by the com-
imrison made by Christ. The principle, which allowed the
introduction of some of the classic emblems for a religious pur-
pose, and with a Christian meaning, was properly understood to
justify the admission of others, such as masks, animals, and
Bacchanalians, provided that the same rule of adding a Christian
application to tlie original image was strictly followed.

Subjects taken from Scripture were frequently described by
the use of corresponding Heathen images. But the analogy
which M. Kaoul Ilochette (p. 20-23) discovers between the
history of Jonas, and the manner in which it is represented, and
some obscure Greek fables, does not appear to us very striking.
It is true that a painting in the first chapel of the cemetery of St.
Calixtus (to which alone the name of Catacomb ought to be

given), exhibiting the prophet Jonas, swallowed and cast forth
y a sea-monster, off'ers some resemblance to a beautiful vase in
the Gregorian Museum,f which represents Jason cast out by a
dragon ; but little analogy can be drawn from any similarity in
the representation of an action which could not have been dif-
ferently described. Besides, the Etruscan vases, on which the
story of Jason is found, belong to a much earlier jieriod of art,
and, therefore, will not easily admit of a just comparison with an
image which may as well be supposed to belong to the fifth as to
the second century. The sea-monster which aevoured Jonas is

• See Bosjo Rom. Setter, p. 337,

f First published by M. Gerhard. Jason iles Dra:hen B.-ut£ Bin Programiii.
Berlin, 1835. Compare the ingenious paper of M. Welchir ou the saine subject,
llbeini«cbck Museum, iii. p. 50S-4.

102 Christian Antiquities. [Jan.

completely different from Jason's dragon, and has not much re-
semblance to the monster that threatened Andromeda or Hesione,
on some monuments which are adduced by M. Raoul Rochette
to strengthen his analogy.

A much more strikmg resemblance has been found between
the manner in which the history of Noah and the Deluge is ex-
. hibited in the Catacombs, and several Greek medals, struck
under the reigns of Septimius Severus, Macrinus, and Philippus
Arabs, at Apamea, in Phrygia. These medals not only bear
the image of two persons, a man and a woman, sailing in an
open ark over the waves, and on the reverse, standing upright
in an attitude of prayer ; but even two doves, one reposing
on the covercle of the ark, the other flying with a branch. The
words Nft or NftE inscribed on the ark on some of them, and
sufficiently illustrated by NK on others, means 'SeoKopwi, a
common title, used on Greek medals, to designate the Greek in-
habitants of Apamea.* Precisely the same representation is given
by Bottarif from the cemetery of St. Calixtus, so that M.
Rochette's opinion that both monuments are only copies from
the same original, is highly probable. Indeed, the fable of
Deucalion, in its primitive form, is so like the history of Noah,
that as early as the third century it was understood by Origen J to
be merely an altered tradition of the Deluge recorded in Scripture.
From these considerations we may easily conceive why the
Christian artists, rude and awkward as they were in their first
attempts, borrowed suitable images to express similar objects.

The chief portion of our author's memoir is dedicated to the
illustration of two most important points of Christian Archae-
ology, the image of the Good Shepherd, and the origin of the
AgapeSi as connected with the tombs of the Martyrs. It would
seem absurd to doubt that the first had a Christian source, when
we find it alluded to in the Scripture itself; if we did not per-
ceive some difference between the original conception of the
idea, and the manner in which it is expressed by Christian
artists. Assuredly, the touching image of the Good Shepherd
is derived from the sacred words of our Saviour ; § and that it
was employed at an early period, by the Christians, as an orna-
ment on their cups, is positively stated by TertullianH and

* This comparison had been previously made and illustrated by Dr. Wiseman, in
his " Lectures on the Connexion between Science and Religion." Lect, ix. vol. ii.
p. 129^nd sqq.

t Pitture t. ii. tav. Ixv. J Contra Cels. lib. iv.p. 192 ed. Cantab.

§ Luc. XV. 4. .John X. 11.

II •Dfffudicil. c. 7. A parabolis licet incipias, ubi est oris perdita k domino
requisita et huuieris ejus revf eta? proccduiit ipsse picturse calicuiu vestrorum, &.c.
Ibid c. 10. Pastor qucm in calice pingis.

1888.] Chrixtian Antiquities. 103

others. Nevertheless, if we compare the most ancient picture in
the Catacombs, in wliich tliis subject is treated,* with the
manner in which it is executed on the Nasonian sepulchre, as
published by Bellori,f we shall find a most extraordinary re-
semblance between them. In the Christian picture, appears the
Good Shepherd with the peduvi^ or crook o\ the ancients, bear-
ing a lan)b on his shoulders, and surrounded by four figures,
aliegorically signifying the four seasons; the third of them.
Autumn, being distinguished by the classic attribute of a cornu-
copia. Now, on the corresponding picture of the Nasonian
tomb, the same scene is described, with this only difference, that
the animal borne by the shepherd is not a sheep but a goat ; a
variety which is not without example even on Cnristian monu-
ments^. But this is not a solitary case, and M. llaoul Rochette
quotes several other examples of the same kind, which we omit.
But we must not pass over the most remarkable point in this com-
parison ; we mean the accumulation of classic attributes to illus-
trate the same idea on Christian monuments, in many paintings,
lamps, and sarcophagi. Besides the four seasons, to which we
have referred, we meet wiih symbols of the sun, a bust with rays
round the head ; and Night, with an unfolded veil and the
crescent on her forehead; we see the Good Shepherd himself
holding the syritKv, an instrument confessedly pagan, and
clothed in the usual classic dress of herdsmen. From all these
proofs, it may be readily inferred, that the Christians, to express
one of the most beautiful ideas of their creed, chose to avail
themselves, with a different application, of a symbolic type
already used by the ancients in aaorning their graves.

We do not so fully approve of our author's tlieory respecting
the origin of the Ayapes. The custom of the ancient Christians
to hold a solemn feast, and eat together, near the tomb of a
martyr, on the day of his death, is generally known, and was a
favourite subject with Christian artists. A long series of pictures
shows us this institution in* the various stages of its progress,
from the primitive simplicity of a meal consisting of meat,
bread and eggs, to the more festive Agapes of later tunes, when
we see the whole course of a Roman entertainment ; an entire
animal brought to table, young slaves who act as cup-bearers,
and even two female servants to mix and taste the dislies (pra?-
gustatrices), as we find them in many classic paintings and bassi

* Botio. Rom. So.t. p. ;i03. Bottari, PiUure, t. ii. tav. W. p. 17.

+ Pict. aniiq. Sepuldir. Naoon. tab. xxii. p. 58.

X See, for in^iUnce, the picture from the Cemetery of S.S. Peter and MarcelliiuiK,
ill Uottari. Pitt tav. ciii. p. 133, and two bassi-rilievi in the aame rollectiun, tuni. i.
Uv. XX. and xxxvi.

104 Christian Antiquities. [Jan.

rilicvi.* Dy such steps, had these institutions —in their origin so
full of pious and simple innocence— degenerated, that they were
transferred from the Catacombs to the Basilicas, and at last en-
tirely forbidden. M. Raoul Rochette, after Justus Lipsius (ad
Tacit. Ann. VI. 5), draws a parallel between these feasts and
some Pagan festivals, which he concludes to have been the
original from which the former were copied. Certainly, they
bear a close resemblance. The Greeks and Romans were ac-
customed to celebrate with libations, sacrifices, and festive enter-
tainments, to which their friends and relations were invited, the
memory of their departed friends on the anniversary of their
death. Those who were unable to entertain their friends, con-
tented themselves with leaving on the graves some meats, with
wine and water. The analogy between these Christian and
Pagan rites would go far to establish that the Christian Agapes
were greatly increased, and rendered more luxurious by the ex-
ample of the Pagans ; this fact is not only clearly proved by our
author, but testified in the most express terms by several of the
Fathers.f We concede to him, therefore, that to this circum-
stance may fairly be ascribed many peculiarities in the paintings
of the Agapes, wliich are taken from classic originals. But we
assert that the origin of this institution was wholly Christian,
although M. Raoul Rochette has only incidentally mentioned
this point. The first Agapes as well as the first martyr belong
to the Holy Land, and are several times mentioned by the
Apostles themselves,^ who, perhaps, gave the first impulse to
them, by meeting together at Pentecost in a similar way. At
Jerusalem, the Greek and Roman festival was probably un-
known ; or, at least, if known, would have very little influence in
leading the Jews, and, consequently, the first Christian com-
munity, to follow the custom. Moreover, the Agape was not
confined to funeral ceremonies, but took place on occasion of
nuptials, births, and dedications, when certainly they could not
be in imitation of the Pagan funeral rites. We, therefore, do
not hesitate to conclude that, however they may have been in-
fluenced or altered by the example of the Roman festivals,
both in their origin and first adoption, they were essentially
Christian.

If the succeeding memoirs of M. Raoul Rochette should
prove of equal interest, we shall not delay in giving our readers
an account of them.

• Bottari. Pitt. t. ii. tav. cxxvii. p. 168.

f See the passages collected by Boldetti, 0.sservazioni, &c. p. 4:6-7. St. Ambrose
expressly forbade the continuation of the Agapes, because, says St. Augustiue (Con-
fess. vL 2), " Ilia pareutalia superstitiuni gentiliuni cssent simillima."

t St Paul, i. Corinth, xi. 33. St. Jude, £p. 12.

1888.] Breton, Norman, and Anglo-Norman Poetry* \05

Art. V. — 1. La Chanson de Roland, ou de Roncevaux, du
XII SiMe. Publiee pour la premiere fois d'aprds le manuscric
de la Bibliothi^que Bodleienne, a Oxford, par Francisque
Michel. 8vo. Paris. 1837.

2. Roman de la Violette ; ou, de Gerard de Severs, en vers, da
xiit Sidcle. Par Gibert de Montreuil. Publie pour la premiere
fois d'apr^s deux manuscrits de la liibliotlieque Uoyale. Par
Francisque Michel. 8vo. Paris. 1834.

8. Miracle de Nostre Dame, de Robert le Diable,Jils du Due de
Nornuindie, a qui il fut enjoin t pour sesmejfaiz qu'il feist le
fol sans parler : et depuis et Nostre Seignor Mercy de li ; et
espousa la Jille de CEmpereur. Publie \)o\xv la premiere
fois d'apres un MS. du xiv. Si^cle, de la Bibliotheque du Hoi ;
par plusieurs Membres de la Societe des Antiquaires de
Wormandie. 8vo. Rouen. 1836.

4. Roman de Rou, et des Dues de Normandie. Par Robert Wace,
Poete Anglo-Normande du xii Sit>cle. Publie pour la premiere
fois, &c. par Frederic Pluquet. 2 vols. 8vo. Rouen. 1827.

5. Le Roman de Brut. Par llobert Wace, &c. Publie pour la
premiere fois, &c. par Le Roux de Lincy. Tom 1. 8vo.
Paris, 1836.

6. Chroniques des Dues de Normandie, ou de Benoit. Publie
&c. par Francisque Michel. 4to. Tom. I. Paris. 1837.

7. Le Roman de MaJwmet, en vers, du xii Siecle. Par Alex.
du Pont. Et Litre de la JM au Sarrasin, en prose, du xtv
Sidde. Publie &c. par M. Reinaud. 8vo. I'aris. 1831.

8. Le Roman du Comte de Poitiers, en vers, du xin Si^cle.
Publie &c. par Francisque Michel. 8vo. Paris. 1831.

9. Poesies de Marie de France, Po^te Anylo-Normande, du xiii
Sidcle. Publiees pour la premiere fois par J. B. de Roquefort,
2 vols. 8vo. Rouen. 1834.

10. Essais Historiques sur les Bardes, les Jongleurs, et les
Trouv^res Normands et Anglo-Normands, Sfc. Par M. I'Abbe
de la Rue. 3 vols. 8vo. Caen. 1834.

I

THESE are a few of the works which have recently been pub-
lished, partly at the instance of the French goverimient, and
xirtly through individual enterprise. They are, however, sufficient
or our present object — an historic glance at tlie origin and
nature of the Breton and Norman poetry.

The connexion of Norman poetry with that of Brittany has
not obtained its due share of attention. Brittany, indt^, is the
immediate source not only of the Christian lore so abundant in
the early com{)ositions of both provinces, but of the most nuiiier-

106 Breton, Norman^ [Jan.

oils and most celebrated pieces which have been regarded as

Eeculiar to the sister province. Brittany, therefore, has not received
er due share of honour from Hterary antiquaries, either in Eng-
land or France ; she has not been reverenced as the source of the
most exquisite poems in the vernacular language of Normandy.
When, in addition, we remember the close affinity between the
inhabitants of Armorica and those of Cornwall and Wales, we
find that our own glory as a nation has been compromised by
this ignorance of — or might we not rather say indifference to —
a branch of literature so intimately connected with our own.
Independently, however, of this connexion, the subject has, in
itself, interest for most readers, — for all indeed, except such as
have allowed their taste to be vitiated by our current literature.

If we would ascertain the origin of Breton, and consequently
of Norman poetry, we must ascend to a much higher antiquity
than is generallj' supposed, — to the period of the earliest records
concerning the state of Gaul. On this subject we all know from
childhood the testimony of Caesar, that the whole learning of the
Druids was contained in verse. He is confirmed by Possidonius
and Diodorus, by Pomponius Mela and Strabo, by Lucan and
y^lian, by Ammianus and Julian, by Justus and Prudentius, by
Fortunatus and Salvian, by St. Cesarius of Aries, St. Gregory of
Tours, and a host besides. The pieces to which these writers
allude are in the native language of Gaul ; and we have indubi-
table proof that it was written, no less than spoken, down to the
eleventh century. The testimonies of each succeeding age, from
St. Irenaeus down to Dudo de St. Quentin, have not escaped the
literary antiquaries of France, least of all the Abbe de la Rue,
whose researches have thrown a new light on the intellectual
condition of the western provinces. — But how connect the well-
known poetry and lore of Gaul with those of Brittany and
Normandy ? The task, we think, will not be difficult. We all
know that when the Franks invaded Gaul, many of the inhabitants
fled to the woods of Neustria, Armorica, and Aquitaine, not
so much, perhaps, in the hope of entirely escaping the yoke
as of living where its iron weight would be less oppressive. That
they carried with them old recollections, their traditionary lore,
their attachment to poetry, nobody will deny. Hence it is that in
these forests we must seek for traces of that lingering spirit,
which, in more ancient times, had thrown its spell over the whole
of Gaul; and we have more than probability for the inference
that the Breton lays, so common in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, were founded on the compositions of the Gaulish bards.
Of these bards we read as late as the sixth century, and we learn
that they flourished not in Brittany only, but throughout France;

1888.] and Anylo-Sorman Pi}ettt/. 107

until the troubles of the times, the barbarity of the warriors, and
the tyranny of the most abominable princes (the Merovingians)
that ever swayed sc€»ptre, silenced their voices, and compelled
them to seek an asylum in the western provinces. From this
period, viz. the sixth century, we hear no more of them by name
m the rest of France. There can, however, be little doubt that
in Armorica they formed an uninterrupted chain from that
century to the thirteenth. The influx of the Cornish Britons
about the close of the fifth century has been supi)osed to have
affected, in some depfree, the traditionary lore of the province,
liut this presumption is scarcely tenable ; for the Gauls and the
Welsh were of the same Celtic stock ; they spoke the same or a
kindred dialect; their religion, prior to the reception of Christianity,
was the same; and that this had long been the case, is evident
from the assertion of Caesar, that the youths of Caul were sent
into Britain to be educated, because Druidism was there taught
in its most perfect form. As, therefore, there was no difference in
religion, none in learning, probably none in language, between the
inhabitants of Gaul and those of Britain, the immigration of so
considerable a portion of the latter into Brittany, could not much
affect the traditionary lore of the province. Nor have we any
reason to infer that it was at all corrupted by intercourse witii
the Frank conquerors. Ihei/ indeed were not eager for such
intercourse. The dynasty which they had established was, as
they well knew, repugnant to the inhabitants, who hate<l them
for it, and for centuries were at open war with them. In fact,
from the accession of Clovis to that of Charlemagne, the people
of western Gaul enjoyed an indeiiendence little inferior to that
of the Cumberland and Lancashire Britons during the same
period of Saxon domination. And after the death of that monarch,
the dissensions of his successors, and still more the gradual
establishment of the feudal system, which rendered one province
independent of another, and left to the lord a jurisdiction over his
vassal more nominal than real, prevented the Franks from sub-
jugating the western districts. In reality those districts were
never subjugated : by intermarriage and by treaty only did they
pass into the possession of Hugh Capet's descendants. It is,
therefore, evident that this language and lore could not be much
affected, either by the immigration of the kindred Britons, or by
the intrusion of the victors.

Before we endeavour to establish the alleged affinity between
the poets of Brittany and those of ancient Gaul, the inquisitive
reader may possibly ask, " Where are those of Brittany ? IVho
are they ? When did they exist ?" These questions a centur}- ago
were often asked. As no song, no piece of any kind referable

108 Breton^ Norman^ [Jan.

to ancient times, has descendetl to us, the existence of a Celtic
literature was either doubted or positively denied. Tlie publica-
tion, however, of so many Norman poems, has enabled us to give a
satisfactory answer to such queries. They prove that the most
popular portion of Norman literature was immediately derived
from that of the Celtic Bretons; that it was translated from the
Armorican, founded on Armorican traditions, and applicable to
Armorican localities, or to the localities of the kindred region on
the opposite coast. Let us adduce a few of the facts by which
the existence of this Celtic literature or traditionary lore is
established, ascending from the comparatively modern to the
ancient : 1. Chaucer shall be our first witness : —

" T hise olde gentil Bretons in hir dayes
Of diverse aventures maden layes,
Rimeyed in hir firste Breton tongue
Which layes with her instrumens they songe."

Some, indeed, of Chaucer's illustrations are avowedly taken
from Armorica. Whether he was acquainted with the language
may be doubted ; but he would have easy access to much of its
literature through the channel of the French and Latin. 2. In
the English Romances, published by Ellis and llitson, which
even in their present form are as old as the age of Chaucer, we
liave frequent allusions to a Breton original. Thus in the Lay of
Ernare : —

" This is one of Brytagne layes
That was used by olde dayes."

Now, if in the fourteenth century such originals were repre-
sented as olde, we might infer that Armorica is behinci no
country in Europe in the antiquity of its vernacular literature.
3. But we may ascend higher, and yet find these lays received as
ancient. Thus, early in the thirteenth century Marie de France
distinctly and frequently assures us that all her pieces were
translated from Breton originals, — originals too which she quali-
fies as mult viels, or very old. And she highly praiies the
custom of committing remarkable adventures to writing, or at
least turning them into lays, and singing them to the harp or
violin. Thus in the Lai de Giigemer : —
*'Li contes ke je sai verais

Dent li Bretun ont fait le<» lais,

Vus cunterei asez briefement,

El chef de cest comencement;

Selonc la lettre a fescriture

Vus cunterei un aventure,

Ki en Bretaigne la Meuur

Avint al tenia aucienur."

18S8.] and Anglo-Norman Poetry. 109

If 8uch adventures were ancient in the early part of the
thirteenth century, what must have been their real antiquity?
4. Deii'in Pyrnmus^ the con tern |X)raiy' of Marie, confirms her
testimony, calls the Breton lays very old, and asserts that much
of her popularity was owing to her Judicious translations from
that language into the Norman. 5. But, in the twelfth century,
there are more allusions to Brelon originals than even in the
thirteenth, and what is more remarkable, they are still called
ancient. Thus Chrestien de Troyes informs us, that he de-
rive<l from them the materials of* his Chevalier au Lion ; and
like Marie, he passes a high eulogium on the ardour with
which that people composed songs in honour of celebrated men.
The subjects of his other works must have been derived from the
same source ; for they are in an equal degree conversant with
the personages of Welsh and Armorican romance. 6. Again,
early in the twelfth century, Geoffrey of Monmouth translated
into Latin the Armorican story of Drut^ which the Archdeacon of
Oxford had brought from Brittany. The objection which, half a
century ago, was urged against Geoffrey — tliat he did not trans-
late at all, but that he composed a new work — is no longer
tenable, and after the triumphant vindication of his fidelity by
modern critics, will no longer be made to insult the common
sense of mankind. 7. In the same age, Foulques of Marseilles,
Alexander de Bemay, the author of the French Geste of King
Horn, and a score besides, allude not only to the abundance, but
to the antiquity, of the Breton lays.

It is manifest, then, that from the twelfth century downwards,
the Bretons had a great number of poems much admired by the
Normans, the English and the French, and much venerated for
their antiquity. And now for the connexion between the authors
and the ancient bards of Gaul. Of these bards, as we have
already seen, there is continual mention from the fii*st century
before Christ to the sixth century after him. Previous to this
latter period, their compositions are called Carmina; but
thenceforward we read no more of bards ; and poetic composi-
tions are called by a new name — leudi or liedi, which has
always been rendered layt. Fortunatus of Poitiers is the first
writer tliat employs these words in reference to the barbaric
|)oems, and at the same time he tells us, that they were sung to
music ; hnrharoa lettdos hnrpa relidtfhat. But, it may be said,
harharos does not here apply to the Bretons in particular ; it is
a generic term as applicable to the Germans as to them. This is
true; but the foUowmg distich is explicit enough: —

" Koinanusquc lyra, plaudat tibi barbarus liar]>u,
Grcecufl achiliaca, clirotta Britanna sonat,"

1 10 JJreton, Norman^ [Jaiu

This chrotta or rota was similar to the harp : it had five
strings. As the same lay was sometimes termed lai de rota, at
others lai de harp, we may infer, that both instruments were
indifferently used. Sometimes the players were called citharoedi,
at other Umes jnculatores, which wtis soon corrupted into jugla-
tores and jongleum. They are frequently so named in the
Capitularia Regum Francorum, in the Acta ConcUiurum Provin-
cialium, in the works of historians, in the epistles and acts of
saints. Tliat the authoi*s of the Breton lays, the jongleurs, were,
though differing in denomination, precisely the same as the
ancient bards, is manifest. The bards, says Possidonius, accom-
panied the warrior of Gaul to the field of battle, and sang his
exploits ; so did the jongleurs — witness the victory of Charles the
Bold (868), over Count Gerard ; that of William, Duke of Nor-
mandy, at Hastings (1066), where Taillefer so lustily chaunted ;
and the assault against Chatellon (1096), by Burgundian con-
federates. The bards, says Possidonius, were maintained at tlie
expense of the great, whose ancestral deeds they celebrated ;
so were the jongleurs, — witness the court of Charlemagne, that
of Ludovic his son, that of Richard I, Duke of Normandy, that
of the Conqueror, and of all his immediate successors. Again,
according to the same Possidonius, the praises bestowed by the
bards were often outrageous, and he adduces Luernius as an
example ; so, according to the annalist Rigord, who lived under
Philip Augustus, were those of the jongleurs. The bards sang
in the assemblies of the people ; so did the jongleurs. The
bards sometimes wandered from palace to palace, from monastery
to monastery, from house to house ; so did the jongleurs. The
person of the bard was sacred ; so was that of the jongleur or
minstrel. In Wales and Armorica, the bards formed an organized
corporation — witness the Laws of Howel Dha, a.d. 900. That
the jongleurs were members of a similar confederation, is evident
from the ordonnances of the French kings in the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries.

Such are a few of the points of resemblance between the
ancient bards of Gaul, and the jongleurs of Brittany and Nor-
mandy. They are sufficient to establish the proposition, that
the latter are the legitimate descendants of the former, and tliat
from Caesar to our Henry HI, the tuneful art in the western
provinces of France witnessed no interruption. Connect this fact
with the other, that Brittany was the immediate (perhaps not tlie
oiiginal) source of Norman poetic literature, or at least of that
important branch of it the romantic, and we have the key to
both the origin and progress of metrical romance in the west of
Europe. Let us now more particularly investigate the nature
of that romance.

1888.] and Anglo- Norman Poetry. Ill

Brittany has been called the cradle of romantic fiction. The
assertion is somewhat loose. How nmch of its traditionary law
was derived from other countries — from England for example ?
One of the two regions must have been indebted to the other ;
for, as we have before observed, the personages, the events, the
allusions, are common to both. It is Arthur and his knights,
Morgan and her attendant fairies, Merlin and his wondei's, that
occur in both. Now, as this ancient lore was originally applica-
ble to Wales, and the British principalities in other parts of the
island, in a degree that may be denominated peculiar, and as a
great multitude of settlers arrived from Hrilain in Armorica during
the fifth and sixth centuries, the rational inference is, that the
obligation was conferred by the island on the province. But, in
both, events and characters essentially historic, were equally cor-
rupted. Thus, in regard to King Arthur: the Welsh triadists
describe him as a hero, a patriot, a just monarch; but they do
not invest him with supernatural qualities of any kind. They
were nearly contemporary with him, and time had not cast her
magnifying veil over him and his actions. But when Nennius
wrote, fable had wonderfully advanced : then Merlin, born in-
deed of woman but not by man, with his two portentous serpents
and his magic fortress, was hailed as a true prophet : then Arthur
was the favourite and ally of supernatural powers. Such, in
three short centuries, had been the progress of fable ! In three
more it was prodigious : witness the Brut of Geoffrey and that
of Wace. The latter ecclesiastic, credulous as he undoubtedly is,
was not insensible to the corruptions which the Welsh and Ar-
morican bards had introduced into the vernacular song : —

" Tant ont li conteor eonte,
Et 11 fableor tant fable,
For lor eonte enibeleter
Ke tot ont fait fables sembler."

Again :

Fist roy Artur la R/inde table
Dont li Breton dient maiute fable."

Chrestien de Troyes ascribes these corruptions to the vaga-
bonds who wandered from place to place to earn a subsistence
by singing and playing. There can be no doubt that there is
great truth in the charge. The jongleurs — hence our word
jugglers — soon learned tne arts of buffoonery, legerdemain, &c.
and rendered what had once been a noble profession, vile. But
because poets, and even historians, perverted events, are we to
conclude that no such events ever happened? There was once
a Cyrus, though eastern romance has strangely altered his cha-
racter. There was once an Alexander, though even greater

112 Breton, Normart^ [Jan.

liberties have been taken with his memory. There was once an
Odin, though the superstition of ages has elevated him from a
mortal to a divinity. There was once an Arthur and a Charle-
magne, though the same creative power has invested them with
attributes, or at least fiscribed to them actions, above the capacity
of man. When such preposterous claims are asserted in favour
of any historical character, we are provoked to reject, not merely
them, but the very existence of the personage. They injure his
fame. Such, in reference to Arthur for instance, was the com-
plaint of the Malmesbury librarian, one of the most judicious of
our early historians. The fate of the British monarch, he well
observes, is deserving of something better than a fabulous com-
memoration. The same charge is brought against the bards
by Giraldus Cambrensis, who asserts that they invented many
of the prophecies ascribed to Merlin, and that the style of these
prophecies demonstrated the imposition. There is indeed reason
to infer, that almost every new writer added something to the
heap of fable.

I3ut the distortion of historic facts does not constitute the sole,
or even the chief, characteristic of Norman poetry. It has a
mythology, in some respects kindred with others, but in many
distinct irom all. It has its giants, fairies, dragons, serpents,
enchanted palaces, and other marvels, wiiich have for ages
entered into the composition of our romances of chivalry.
Whence was this mythology derived? From the Arabs, through
the medium of Spain, says Warburton. From the east, through
the channel of Scandinavia, says Percy. From the east, through
both channels, viz. Spain and northern Europe, says Warton.
From no foreign country at all, says Huet, who stoutly main-
tains that they are indigenous in the Celtic soil. None of
these hypotheses is strictly just ; but we are certain that though
the last is too exclusive, it is by far the nearest to the truth.
In regard to the alleged transmission of one fiction from the
east, trie peri of that part of the world is not the fairy of Euro-
pean superstition : in the former case, there is one gender
only for that imaginary being ; in the other, there is the dis-
tinction of sex. The northern fairy, indeed, has some resem-
blance to the Celtic one ; but the Norman writers acknowledge
that they did not introduce the belief into Brittany; that, on the
contrary, they derived the belief from it. That province, there-
fore, was not indebted to the north of Europe for this branch
of superstition. In fact it could not be : for the belief existed
in Gaul as far back at least as the first century of tiie Christian
era. What were the nine priestesses whom Pompon ius Mela
places in the Isle of Seine, but so many fairies? They held.

1888] and Amjlo 'Norman Pot til/. 113

says the author, the dominion of the winds and waves ; they
could assume any shape ; they could heal any disease ; and the
future was unveiled to them. He is confirmed by Strabo, who
represents them as equally wonderful in popular estimation.
Now these are the very fairies of the twelfth century, — those
whom Geoffrey of Monmouth, in conformity witli Welsh tradi-
tion, places in tlie Fortunate or Apple Islands. To these islands,
the seat of these beings, was Arthur, after the battle of Camblan,
conveyed, by the most excellent of pilots, Barinth ; there he was
hospitably received by Morgan and her eight sisters ; and from
them, if tradition be true, he will one day return to resume the
sceptre of Britain. We have said in conformity with If'ebsh
tradition ; for tlie Bretons have a different locality for the abode
of the nine sisters ; or at least they have, in their own territory,
anotlier which tliese fabulous personages honoured by their
presence. It is the renowned forest of Brecheliant, near Quintin,
tliat superstition, during so many ages, regarded as sacred to
tliem. In the twelfth, and even the thirteenth century, they
were believed to be often visible within those magic preciivcts,
and to perform the same wonders as of yore. That forest is
the favourite scene of chivalric adventures. To it Chrestien de
Troyes conducts his most renowned knights ; he brings them
into contact with its monsters, and with the wild man their
ruler; he makes them subdue lions, leopards, seri)ents, and
what is more, the force of n)agic. And there is a fountain in
the locality, no less celebrated than the other wonders. The
paladin of Chrestien approaches it, perceives the golden basin
tied to the oak which ovei*shadows it, draws with that basin the
water from the fountain, witnesses the sudden terrific storm
caused by the action, and is sunmioned to encounter tlie most
alarming of dangers : he has provoked the mysterious knight,
whom he must combat, and who is thought impervious to mortal
arms. This description by Chrestien has a parallel in our own
romance. — a romance, however, traiislate<l, or rather imitated,
from his Mesaire Itcain. It it entitled Jwuin and Gnwainy and
is in the well-known collection of Ilitson. Both in Chrestien
and Ilitson, the whole description is exceetlingly imaginative, —
far more so than any thing of modern invention, from Spenser
to Byron inclusive.

Were, the inquisitive reader may ask, such wonders credited
by any people above the most vulgar condition ? If credulity,
the everlasting concomitant of ignorance, spread her empire over
the great bulk of mankind, did the educated, did the clergy, for
instance, feel her power ? I^t the question be answered by the
celebrated ecclesiastic Wace. At the present day it would

VOL. IV. — NO. Vll. I

114 BretoHj Normap, [Jan.

scarcely be credited that he undertook a journey to the forest of
Brecheliant expressly for the purpose of seeing with his own
eyes the wonders it was said to contain ; — the well, the stone, the
basin, the mystic knight, the fairies, and the wild man who held
the most ferocious beasts tame and gentle as lambs. Yet that
such was the fact is certain from his own confession. In his
account of William the Conqueror, he digresses and relates the
execution of his purpose. He went to see marvels ; he arrived
at the forest, examined the ground, and was for some time much
excited by anticipation ; but, though his desire was to discover
marvels, he found none ; and in sheer vexation, he adds that he
returned as great a fool as he went :

" La allai jo merveille quere,
Vis la foret a vis la tere.
Merveille quis, mes nes trouvai,
Fol m'en revins, fol y allai.''

The legends concerning this place must have been very gene-
rally believed, or Wace would never have journeyed so far for such
an object. Hue de Mery, author of the Tourney of Antichrist,
was not so honest as this churchman, or perhaps he was more of
a wag. He asserts that he visited the wondrous forest ; that he
saw the chapel, the stone, the basin, the well : that he drew the
water, sustamed the tempest, and the onset of the mysterious
knight; in short, he averred that the ancient tradition was the
truest thing in the world. To the same wonders allusion is made
by Walter of Metz, who dwells at length on the forest of Breche-
liant, where, as he relates, Merlin perished through the malig-
nity of the nine fairies. We must, however, observe that these
ladies were not always, nor even generally so vindictive. On the
contrary, they were remarkably distinguished for benevolence,
though it was sometimes capriciously exhibited. They frequently
embroidered garments for some favourite noble ; often they fur-
nished him with steed and arms ; and, occasionally, they carried
their attachment so far as to become the wives of the great
barons. Many families boasted of their descent from such
marriages.

The mythology, contained in the works of tlie Norman trou-
veres, and by consequence in the Breton originals, does not
appear to have been derived in any great degree from the north
of Europe, or Asia, or any other region ; much of it was unques-
tionably indigenous to the Celtic race. If introduced into Gaul,
for instance, the period must have been prior to all historic
records. But was communication between distant and savage
nations so easy and so common that elaborate systems of mytho-
logy could be conveyed from the mountains of Persia to those of

1888.] and Anglo-Norman Poetry. l\5

Wales ? Far more rational is the inference that the traditionary
lore in question is a relic of the Celtic faith, and received long
before Christianity was vouchsafed to the world. Probably all
tlie nations of that race, and all the branches of the Cinibri,
from whence the Celts undoubtetUy sprung, had some common
system which the endless migrations of so many people have dif-
fused throughout Europe, but the vestiges of which are more
conspicuous in some countries than in others, owing to the greater
degree of tranquillity, so far, at least, as regards foreign assail-
ants, possessecl by the inhabitants. The Scandinavian, the
Basque, the Scottish Highlander, the Welshman, the Breton,
have suffered little from external aggression ; they have not been
compelled to forsake their native mountains and forests by resist-
less armies of invaders. Among such people, therefore, tradi-
tionary lore has subsisted in greater purity from the most ancient
times to the present. Not that it has wholly escaped corrup-
tion. If we take into consideration one prominent branch of
it, that of its imaginary deities, the introduction of Christianity
must necessarily have made a great change in general opinion,
respecting not merely the powers but the existence of these dei-
ties. But we must not forget that the influence of the new faith
was by no means uniform. Where the apostles and their imme-
diate disciples personally laboured, where miracles were openly
wrought, where a high degree of civilization existed, its triumphs
were more speedy and more splendid. But in places far removed
from the sphere of their labours, where no such wonders were
exhibited; in times remote from those which they illustrated;
and in regions where civilization was unknown, the result was
very different. As a living writer well observes, in such regions
as these, " so gradual were the successes of the triumphant faith
over this particular branch of the ancient creed, that, although
the memory of Thunaer, and Wodan, and Saxnote, is scarcely
distinguishable among the documents of several centuries; a con-
tinued belief in the agency of their Subordinate associates still
maintains its sway over every sequestered district of northern
Europe." There certainly are districts, even in England, where
a lurking suspicion is entertiiinetl that, beyond the sound of the
church bells, the fairy has his time-honoured abode. The same
opinion was held in the days of Chaucer ; for, though he inti-
mates tliat owing to the prayers of holy friars these beings were
no longer to be found, this must be received as his inaividual
opinion, not as the opinion of the age. How, indeed, could
there be anv doubt of it among the people at large, when the
chiefs, tlie elders, the wise, still clung to what they had received
from tlieir sires ? The truth is, that in most of the European

i2

116 Breton, Norman, [Jan.

countries, especially in the northern, the genius of paganism
continued long to struggle with the spirit of Christianity. Nor,
when all reverence for the old divinities was extinct, was the
influence of idolatry wholly expelled. The forest, the mountain,
the domestic hearth, the running stream, were still peopled by
subordinate beings, whose power, though local, was dreaded,
and whose favour was propitiated by superstitious rites. This
was strikingly the case in reference to the fairies of popular
belief; and it is curious to trace the gradation by which their
ancient influence was so far diminished as no longer to exercise
any visible effect on the conduct of the vulgar. In the age of
conversion, they are represented as malignantly and danger-
ously hostile to the professors of the new creed: there was
necessarily a struggle between the two empires of Satan and of
Christ. In another century the new faith had so far triumphed,
that supernatural beings were compelled to admit its superiority.
Another age, and the acknowledgment was made without reluct-
ance. It was now discovered that the splendour which surrounded
them, and the happiness they appeared to enjoy, was mere
glamour, an unreal mockery. So far were they from being the
objects of envy, that they longed for the privileges of men ; they
strove to procure for their children the blessings of baptism ; and
they were heard to express a hope that, after the revolution of
ages, the good among them should be restored to the favour of
heaven. If the privileges of humanity were thus superior to
their own, we cannot be surprised that they endeavoured to pro-
cure them ; that, when the females were brought into connexion
with the males of our own species, they stipulated for their off-
spring the usual rites of the church. In illustration of this
whimsical subject, we have many anecdotes in writers of the
middle ages. Thus Torfoeus, who is " firmly of opinion that
they are creatures of God, consisting, like ourselves, of a body
and an immortal soul ; that they are of different sexes, capable
of producing children, and subject to all human afilictions, as
sleeping and waking, laughing and crying, poverty and wealth ;
that they have cattle, and other property ; that, like mortals, they
are liable to death," relates one too delectable to be passed over.
A fairy of Iceland bore a child to a native, and soon after it was
born, she herself carried it to the door of the church, and pre-
sented with it a golden cup as an offering. Gervase, of Tilbury,
is equally positive of the intercourse in question ; he even favours
us with the laws for its regulation. He tells us, too, of a poor
woman who, while one day occupied washing in the river, was
drawn beneath its bed, conveyecf into a fairy palace, and made
to nurse a child during nine long years. Whether ths child was

1888.] and Anglo-Norman Poetry. 117

the oi!spring of such a connexion, we do not remember; but that
connexion was so common that Sir David Lindsay gives us the
cognizance of the offspring ; a leopard, which, sprung from a lion
and a |>ard, might well betoken a combination equally strange.
Normandy and Brittany were not behind other countries in tlie
reception of this belief. We have alluded to the boast of several
families that they were descended from some one of the nine
ladies who inhabited the forest of Brecheliant. Brantome gives
us a more delectable instance than even I'orfceus, of the readi-
ness with which they submitted to mortal love. The fairy,
Melesina, he gravely informs us, was certainly married to the
renowned Guv de Lusignan, Count of Poitou ; and during the
many years tney lived together, she bore him as many children.
Never was there a more faithful or a more affectionate partner ;
never was there a happier marriage. She built for him a mag-
nificent castle, and loaded him with riches. But to all human
joy there is a limit Such connexions were always dependant
on some odd condition, and the one which had been exacted by
Melesina was that her husband should never intrude upon her
privacy when she wished to be alone. One day, while she was
m the bath, he was so disobedient as to peep at her. The charm
was broken ; the fair lady, being changed into a hideous dragon,
flew away with yells. But, though she visibly disappeared, affec-
tion still caused her to hover about the castle of Lusignan,
and the night before its destruction, her wailing was distinctly
heard round its lofty turrets.

Much of what has been said respecting the antiquity and the
universality of fairy lore, would be equally applicable to the chi-
valric. How came it to be so ancient, so universal ? Doubtless
because it was derived from some origin common to all the
nations of the same stock, and referable to a period lost in the
night of time. There are, indeed, in the legendary stories of
those nations, resemblances which might be referred to a com-
mon source. Such, as Mr. Southey 'observes, is the stealing of
the veils, which the German Musaeus, has given us as a popular
tale in his own country, which appears in the supplement to the
Arabian Nightt, and which Ali liey, the Spaniard, found to be
a received 8U|)erstition at Fez. Such, too, in the Welsh Tali-
essin, is the pursuit of Gevion the Little by Ceridwen, and
which is so like the Arabian story of the Second Calendar, that
either the one must have been derived from the other, or both
must have descended from some common though unknown
source. Such, thirdly, is the descent of Alexander the Great
into the sea, in a vessel of glass, in Spanish, Teutonic, and Cym-
ric romance. — On this suDJect no judicious reader will have

118 Breton^ Norman^ [Jan.

much difficulty in drawing his inference. It is monstrous to
suppose that, at an early period of society, when national inter-
course was almost impossible, and when foreign languages were
unknown, the Welsh, for instance, could have been so mtimate
with the Persians and Arabians, as to adopt their very supersti-
tions. Neither can we be told that these fables travelled west-
wards until they reached the extremity of Europe. There is no
evidence of such a progress ; there are no intermediate links of
the chain. We do not indeed assert that no instances of such a
transit can be established ; on the contrary, we believe that there
are many. But these were not brought to our shores before pil-
grims, Jews, or crusaders, served as the channel of conveyance ;
and this must have been many ages subsequent to the period
when most of our renowned legends were m the mouths of the
vulgar. ITie safest conclusion is, that while, after the eighth
century at least, both Jews and pilgrims, both Arabians and
Christians, were instrumental in the introduction of many
legends, the majority, perhaps, were here before the birth of
Christ. In this as in many other points of vulgar faith, " it is
impossible not to perceive the fragments of a belief brought
from some earlier seat of empire, which could neither have been
imported into Wales and western Europe by a new dynasty of
kings, nor communicated by a band of roving minstrels."

Before we quit this branch of our subject, we may advert to
a charge very frequently made by Protestant writers against the
Catholic Church. She is reproached with boundless ignorance,
with childish credulity, because, during the middle ages, many
of her ecclesiastics, many of her writers, professed a belief in
the leading points of vulgar superstition. There is in such a
charge something as unphilosophical as it is unjust and uncandid.
Has the Churcli ever professed to change, in all things, the
nature of man ? Has she ever boasted of a recipe for defending
him against every species of error? Has she ever engaged to do
that which God himself has left undone — to elevate poor human
nature above the reach of ignorance or mistake ? Has she ever
laid claim to an omnipotent sway over the world of intellect?
Omnipotent indeed it must have been, had she been able
to preserve the mind of man, in all ages, from the influence of
credulity. Her province is a somewhat different one — the im-
provement of the heart. Are the writers who make the charge,
sensible of the tremendous effect with which it may be retorted
on them ? Have no Protestant writers, eminent as Gervase, or
Brantome, possessed an equal share of credulity, and at a period
termed peculiarly enlightened — very unlike that of tlie benighted

I

1888.] and Anglo-Norman Poetry. 119

times of old ? Let us hear Martin Luther, the monarch of the
body:—

♦' In many countriea,** says this exirordinary man, " there are places
which fairies and devils bodily inhabit. Prussia has many of them :
and not far from Lucerne in Switzerland, on the summit of a high
mountain, there is a pool called ' Pilate's Pond,* where the devil exhibits
himself in a terrible manner. Nay, in my own country (Saxony)
there is just such a pool. If you throw a stone into it, a terrible
storm arises, and makes the surrounding districts tremble. It is the
prison of many devils."

This is quite as notable as tlie Gothic, or perhaps we should
say Celtic, legend, relating to the magic well in the forest of
Brecheliant. Probably the reader may be surprised to hear
such opinions from such a man. Will he be less so, when he
learns, that not even old TorfcBus was more firmly of opinion
than he was, that children under six weeks were frequently
stolen by the fairies, and real fairies substituted for themr Nay,
Luther vouches for the fact from his own experience.

" Eight years ago, I myself, when at Dessau, touched one of those
changelings, which had no parents, and was the devil's own brat. It
was twelve years old, and was in every thing like an ordinary child.
It did nothing but eat ; it consumed as much as four ploughmen or
thrashers ; and it had the usual evacuations. When any one touched
it, it cried out as if it were possessed. If any misfortune happened,
it rejoiced and laughed outright ; but when everything went on pros-
perously, it continually mourned. I said to the prince of Anhalt,
* Were I the sovereign here, I would, at all risks, throw this little
wretch into the Moldau.' But he and the Elector of Saxony were not
of my opinion. I then advised them to pray in all the churches, that
the demon might be removed. They did so for a whole year, when
the changeling died."

Such is Lutlier's own account of the marvel. Being asked by
one of his friends, the reason of his advice, he replied : " Because,
in my opinion, such changelings are mere creatures of Jiesh,
without a soul : the devil is very capable of such creations."

Again : —

** Near Halbertadt, in Saxony, there was a man who had a Kilcroff.*
It was so voracious at the breast, that it would drain, not only its re-
puted mother, but half-a-dozen women besides, and it devoured every
thing else that was offered to it The man was advised to go on pilgrim-
age with this brat to the shrine of the Virgin, and watch it there.
Away he went with the young imp, in a basket strung at his back ;
and on his way, as he was passing over a bridge, he dbtinctly heard a

* The Skxon word for ckangelutff.

1*20 Breton, Norman, [Jan.

voice cry out, '■KUcroff'! Kilcroff T The little devil pricked up hb
ears, and, though it had never before spoken, it shouted out, ' Oh !
oh I oh 1* The river demon then cried, 'Whither art thou going?'
♦ To Hockelstadt, to be rocked at the shrine of the Blessed Mother 1'
The peasant, much terrified at this prodigy, threw both the basket and
child into the river, and away flew both imps, crying, * Oh ! oh I oh V "

How consonant all this with superstitions once prevalent in
our own country, and not yet wholly extinct ! But we have not
yet done with Martin Luther. " One Good Friday the devil
carried bodily away three men, who had devoted themselves to
him." This anecdote was founded on the then popular notion of
compacts between the devil and mortals for a certain period.
The devil was always a most important personage in the stories
of the reformer. " At Luther's table, one day," says a bio-
grapher, or rather a collector of his sayings, " a story was told
of a horseman, who was riding along with others, and who,
pricking the animal with his spurs, cried out, * The devil take
the hindmost.' Now, it so happened, that he was leading an-
other horse by the bridle, and this he never saw again ; for sure
enough Satan did take it." The reflection which Luther made
on this story was perfectly characteristic : " Let us beware of
calling on the devil to appear ; he is always ready to come with-
out calling : the air around us is full of devils."

Such are a few instances of the reformer's boundless credulity ;
and whoever wishes to see more, need only look into the huge folios
published by his disciples soon after his death. Is there anything
m the most obscure monastic writer of the middle ages to exceed
them ? *' Oh !" some reader may reply, " but the age of Luther was
a dark age : his mind, vigorous as it was, was unable to shake off
the absurd creed of his childhood !" If this were to be admitted,
it would not argue much for his intellectual supremacy, nor,
consequently, for the truth of the novel doctrines he propounded.
But let us select a modern instance, — one of our days, and as
eminent in his way as the Wittemberg doctor,— John Wesley,
who was certainly a man of both learning and acuteness. Now,
we do not hesitate to make the unqualified assertion, that the
writings of this man abound with more proofs of credulity —
credulity as childish as it is inexplicable — than are to be found
in any naif-score of the most barbarous writers of the middle
ages. Let those who consider this assertion too sweeping, wade,
as we have done, through that strangest of all productions, his
Journal, and its justice will be readily acknowledged.

From these general observations on the origm and nature
of Breton and Norman poetry, we may now descend to a

18S8.3 nnd Anglo-Norman Poetry. IJl

more particular consideration of the Norman and Anglo-Norman
muse.

The mere fact, that all our knowledge of Breton literature is
derived through tlie channel of the Anglo-Norman, and that so
many works in the latter are extant, would be sufficient to attest
the partiality of our ancestors for metrical romance. But for
this conclusion we have more than inference ; we have positive
testimony. Chardry, a celebrated poet of the twelfth century,
complains, in his Life and Miracles of St. Edward^ that, for the
exploits of Roland and the twelve peers, they neglected all sub-
jects of religion, and all of edification : indee<l, such was their
passion for the amusement, that to gratify it they frequently
neglected the necessary duties of life. Nor will this statement
appear extraordinary, when we consider their attachment to the
tuneful art long before they left the icy regions of the north.
Tliey had no feast without the bard ; many of the warriors were
bards ; and in the ancient sagas, we perpetually read of the same
individual bi»ing as expert in tlie song as in the use of the sword.
Some of their compositions have been traced to a remote anti-
quity,— centuries before Ilagar Lodbrog sang his own exploits.
Among the Stixons, who were of the same stock as the Scandin-
avians, a similar custom prevailed. In his account of the elder
Caedman, Bede gives us a pleasing description of the manner in
which our ancestors played and sung: "While in the secular
habit, until a mature age, he learned nothing of the art: indeed
he had no taste for it. Sometimes, at a festive entertainment,
when the harp was brought, and all present trcre expected to
sing in their tumnj he arose, left the table, and reUuiied home."
Playing, and composing, and singing, therefore, — ail at the same
time, — were no accomplishment, but an ordinary attainment.
But it was more common, |)erhaps, in Scandinavia. When
RoUo disembarked his wild ruffians in Neustria, many of them
were acquainted with it. When many are striving for the same
haven, a few will always excel the re«t ; and as the Gauls had
their professional bards, so the northmen had their scalds, whose
peculiar duty it was to celebrate the exploits of the great at every
feast. With recollections thus ardent, with habits thus formed,
the strangers lost no time in cultivating the good- will of the
Bretons, the most celebrated |)eople in France for ancient songs.
Hence, comnmnity of feeling pavetl the way for a better under-
standing than would otherwise have existed, and assuredly
excited in both a much stronger attachment to their ancient
amusement. Even necessity contributed to the same end. From
the time of Charles the Simple, Brittany was an arriere fief of
Normandy : its great vassals were dej)endent, not on the French

122 Breton f Norman^ [Jan.

king, but on the Duke of Normandy ; and it was under Norman
banners that they advanced to battle. Thus, Alan Duke of
Brittany accompanied his feudal superior, Duke William the
Bastard, to the conquest of England, and in reward of his ser-
vices, received above four hundred knight-fees in different
counties. As, therefore, the knights of the two provinces met
togetlier with their vassals, were employed in the same service,
frequently resided in the same fortress, and were still more
frequent visitors at the same festive board, we may easily account
for the knowledge which the Normans obtained of the traditions
and poetry of their southern neighbours. This knowledge was
the result of constant intercourse ; it was the growth of genera-
tions ; and its universality cannot surprise us.

In his elaborate researches into the ancient poetic literature of
Normandy, the Abbe de la Rue distinguisnes it into three
classes : 1. Chansons de gestes, or metrical romances, sung to
musical instruments, whether the subjects were historic or
fabulous ; 2. Dramas ; 3. Lighter and more fugitive pieces. Of
the two last, as they do not enter into our present design, we
shall say nothing. Confining our attention to the first, these
chansons de gestes were unquestionably the leudi or lays of
which Fortunatus wrote, which Charlemagne was fond of tran-
scribing, and which Alfred committed to memory. The author
of these musical poetic inspirations was a trouvdre ; if he sang it,
and at the same time played on the harp, rota, or violin, he was
also Q. jongleur. Originally the two arts, viz. those of poetry and
music, were generally combined in the same individual ; but we
soon read of their separation : some poets could not play or sing,
and therefore were called trouv^res only ; while others could not
compose, and therefore were called jongleurs only. " But,"
the reader may enquire, " how could pieces consisting of above
twenty thousand verses, be sung at one festive entertainment ?"
Certainly no one jongleur, and no one day, would seem equal to
a tithe of the undertaking. Every long metrical romance was
divided by breaks, and sung by several jongleurs in succession,
on as many successive days. We find seventeen of these breaks
in the romance of Sir Percival^ and twenty in that of Garin.
They must have been designed for the relief of both singers and
hearers ; for they end where the mind may pause, and where the
fable may be renewed without injury to the connexion of events.
Sometimes the same piece was alternately in prose and verse,
the former to be recited merely, the latter to be sung. Doubt-
less the reason for this innovation was the extreme difficulty of
procuring a succession of good singers and players : any educated
man could recite; but the other accomplishment demanded, in

1888.] and Anglo- Norman Poetry. 12$

addition, peculiar natural gifts, and involved many years of
application. So rare, indeed, was the union of the two arts ; so
seldom was the same individual able to compose, sing, and play,
that frequently the whole of a piece, though metrical, was
merely read. The next transition from metrical to prose
romances, which began to abound towards the close of the twelfth
century, was the necessary result of this innovation. But so
long as good singers and good musicians could be obtained, a
decided preference was shown to the metrical. In process of
time, such men were seldom trouvfcres : tliey were either
amateurs among the highborn, who in the domestic circle con-
tended for tlie applause of tlieir equals ; or they were profes-
sional musicians, who, for hire, displayed their skill to a more
public audience. There are, indeed, instances on record, and
those not few, where nobles disguised themselves as professional
jongleurs, and ventured on tlie most public occasions to contend
for applause. If there be any faith m history, even kings have
done tliis. With knights, the custom was so frequent, as to
create little surprise, because without some knowledge of the
sister arts, no chivalric education was, at one period, complete.
When Ela, Countess of Salisbury, had lost her kindred in Eng-
land, her guardians were fearful lest Richard should force her to
contract a marriage hostile to her interests or their own views,
and they secretly transferred her to a fortress in Normandy,
where she was guarded with the most jealous care. Richard,
who intended her for his bastard brother, William Longsword,
was curious to discover her retreat. He employed a knight,
William Talbot, an ancestor of the noble family of that name, to
wander from castle to castle in search of her. Tlie latter,
assuming the minstrel's garb, did at length discover her retreat,
and as a minstrel was permitted to see and amuse her. He had
little difficulty in prevailing on her to exchange a prison for her
native castle ; and her hand, and wide domains, came into tK>s-
session of Longsword, who was thenceforth styled T^rl of
Salisbury.

As earl^ as the twelfth, if not the eleventh century, the pro-
fessional jongleurs were numerous ; in the thirteenth and four-
teenth they swarmed. They were to be found in every court,
in the household of every great baron, at every public festival.
By their patrons, they were often sent to amuse their neighbours,
especially the corporate municipalities and religious confrater-
nities. In the thirteenth, at an entertainment in the monastery
of St. Austin of Canterbury, many jongleurs in succession
amused the guests of the hospitable Abbot: in the yeai- 1338, at
the priory of St. Swithin in Winchester, the exploits of King

124 Breton^ Norman ^ [Jan.

David were followed by those of the Giant Colbrun, and these
in their turn by the triumphs of Saint Emma. For these
religious festivals, corresponding pieces were often composed.
The conception, the birth, and passion of the Saviour, the
leading events of the Old and New Testament, were then thought
more congenial to the taste of ecclesiastics, than the adventures of
the twelve peers, or the knights of King Arthur's court. They
were certainly more in unison with the devotional feelings of the
age. Frequently they owed their existence to a self-inflicted
penance on the part of the trouv^res. He who, in the height
of his faculties, had sacrificed to the popular taste, by singing the
pieces of Roland or Tristram, of Turpin or Lancelot, and by
describing with too much freedom the progress of licentious
passion, was anxious, as mature years stole upon him, to make
some compensation for the offence, by tuning his harp to
sacred themes. In the prologue to several pieces, this intention
is expressly avowed. In many of them, however, the cir-
cumstances of chivalry are ludicrously associated with those of
Holy Writ. In one, Lm Cour de Paradix, God resolves to hold
a court plenary at All Saints, and he deputes St. Simon and
St. Jude to collect all his vassals, who were all the saints, mar-
tyrs, and confessors, that have suffered for the truth. They
assemble ; and, as in the princely courts below, there must be
jongleurs to sing and to play, and several are made to perform
before the Deity. Let it not be supposed, that in this strange
representation, the slightest irreverence was intended : the very
contrary was the fact. If our ancestors were coarse in their de-
scriptions, and vmrefined in their taste, they were always right
in feeling : those were the result of the age ; this, of the care
which in all ages the Christian Church has taken to instruct her
children. Still we must condemn such productions, the more so
when we regard the culpable licence which was sometimes taken
with the subject. The lives of saints, as may readily be ima-
gined, formed a great part of the staple of such manufactures;
but by way of embellishment, legends were added, which set
probability at defiance. Mabillon, the best of judges, declares
that in Brittany and Normandy, more liberties were taken with
the acts of saints than in all the rest of France. Hence, in the
estimation of the sober-minded, these compositions gradually
fell. So it was with the authors, and still more with the singers
and players. If originally the jongleurs were men of respecta-
bility, accustomed to the best society, and polished in their
manners, subsequently they wore a very different character ; in
fact, they degenerated greatly. They assumed a peculiar habit;
they shaved the crown of the head; they painted the face, and
administered, from a public scaffold, to the anmsement of the

1888.] ami Anglo-Norman Poetry. 125

vulgar. Vagabond jongleurs, accompanied by women, went
from fair to fair, and the morals of both were not the most
edifying. Our expressive word juggler^ the corruption of the
French word, is enough to designate the itinerant musician of
the fourteenth century. As a natural conseauence, the profes-
sion was abandoned by the respectable, who found it more
honourable to compoite, than to perform, — who ceased to be jon-
gleurs, and were distinguished as trouvtires.

Vast as is the field of Anglo-Norman poetry, we must mention
some of the writers who have given it celebrity ; but alas ! our
limits are of necessity so narrow, that we can give of the few little
more than a catalogue.

Omitting Richard, Duke of Normandy (933), Thibaut de
Vernon, whose works have perished, and Taillefer, who fell at
the battle of Hastings, the first poet worthy of our attention is
the unknown author of the Journey of Charlemagne to Constan-
tinople and Jvrusalem. This poem was probably translated from
the Latin, that is, in the ancient use of the word ; for the trans-
lator always added as much of his own as he found in the original.
There is, indeed, a Latin poem on this subject ; and in it Charle-
magne's journey is the result of an invitation from the Greek
Emperor, and the Patriarch of Jerusalem, to relieve the holy
city, then besieged by the Mahonmiedans, This event is
at least consistent with the opinions of the time, however it may
be opposed to probability. But in the Norman poem, the case
is very different. Appearing one day before his oueen, with his
crown on head, and sword in hand, the Frencn monarch en-
quires, in a most vain-glorious spirit, whether any living sove-
reign became either sword or crown as well as he. " Emperor,"
she quietly replies, " you praise yourself too much." But then
she had the miprudence to compare him — and comparisons are
proverbially odious — with the Greek Emperor, who, she averred,
• nad greater majesty than ever he had. Piqued at the reply,
Charlemagne swore that he would go^o that city, and judge for
himself If she spoke untruly, he would punish her ; in either
case, he would dethrone the Emperor as he had dethroned so
many others. The author is a sad geographer. To reach
Constantinople, he takes his hero into Persia, and next to Jeru-
salem. There, the latter boasts to the Patriarch that he has
conquered twelve sovereigns, and that he is going to conquer the
thirteenth, viz. the Greek Emperor. But we have no room for
analysis, especially as the piece is certainly not written by an
Anglo-^ormdiU.

Of our Henry I, whom the Abbe de la Rue and M. de

126 Breton, Norman, [Jan.

Roquefort make the author of the Dicti^ cCUrham, we shall say
only this, — though his jwetical talents rest on a good foundation,
we have reason to doubt the paternity of the poem. Nor shall
we dwell on Philip de Than, the author of two moral pieces
which have little interest. Geoffroy, Abbot of St. Alban's, is
better known ; he is the reputed author of the first miracle play,
that of St. Catherine, performed for the edification of our ances-
tors ; but of the drama no vestige exists. Another poet of the
twelfth century, Turold, must not be so briefly dismissed, since
he is the author of a poem, La Chanson de lioland, which can
be but little known to our readers. Of the author we have
little. Both in Normandy and in England there were many
Turolds, or Thorolds, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries : in
the latter were some of that name, being prior to the invasion of
duke William It is, therefore, impossible to say to which of the
two countries he was indebted for his birth. We have no other
guide than internal evidence to arrive at his period. Probably
he lived early in the twelfth century.

The Chanacm de Roland is one of the most ancient pieces in
Norman French that treats of Charlemagne, Roland, and the
rest of the twelve peers. It is wholly devoted to the expedition
of that monarch into Spain, and especially to the disaster sus-
tained by him in the gorges of the Pyrenees. Throughout it
has a strange combination of Christian with Moorish customs.
Its very opening exhibits King Marsilius at Sarragossa, sur-
rounded by his barons and knights, and invoking, at once,
Mahomet and Apollo. He asks, and well he may, advice
how to act. All Spain, except the capital, has been subdued
by " Charles with the White Beard," whom nothing can op-
pose. One of his barons advises him to feign submission to the
emperor, to promise tribute, to engage even to embrace the
Christian faitn, and to dispatch hostages as a guarantee for the
performance of the conditions. To be sure, as those conditions '
were never intended to be fulfilled, the hostages would, in the
end, lose their heads. " But then," observed the councillor,
who stroked his beard with much complacency, " Was not any-
thing better than the loss of sweet Spain ?" The advice was
approved ; the heralds and hostages were sent to Charlemagne,
who was then at Cordova. The monarch received them in great
state, looked at the presents, which were suflBcient to load some
hundreds of mules, stroked his beard, reflected, and deferred his
reply to the following day. Next morning he rose with the sun,
heard matins, then mass, and proceeded to his orchard, where,
seating himself beneath a wide-branching pine, he summoned his

1888.] fJ»ti Anglo-Norman Poetry. 127

peers to deliberate with him. Roland advised him to place no trust
in King Marsilius, who had so often betrayed tliem ; but it was
at length rt* solved to accept the Pagan's oners ; and Ganelon of
Metz — " the falsest man alive" — was sent to signify the circum-
stance to Marsilius. Ganelon, partly out of hatred to Roland,
the emperor's nephew, whom he wished to destroy, and partly
through corruption, invented the most odious of all treasons —
that Roland, on tlie approaching return of the Franks to Aix
la Chapelle, should have the command of the rear, consisting
of twenty thousand men only, and be assailed by twenty
times the number of Saracens in the defiles of the Pyrenees.
" Why,'' said Marsilius to the traitor, " should you, be eager
to preserve the good will of Charles with the White Beara —
of one who has passed his two hundreth year, and who is on
the verge of the grave ?" The iniquitous compact being made,
Ganelon, laden with riches, returned to the camp of Charle-
magne, who immediately commenced the march towards the
Pyrenees. On his way, however, the emperor had to destroy a
great African army which had come to the assistance of Mar-
silius. Having accomplished this feat, he proceeded into the
mountains with the main body ; leaving, as Ganelon had sug-
gested, Roland, Oliver, Turpin, and twenty thousand men, far
m the rear. Scarcely was the bravest of all the twelve peers
engaged in tlie defiles, than myriads of Saracens, in battle array,
appeared behind tliem. "Here are Pagans enough," said Oliver
to Roland, " and they are coming to fight us. Sound your
magic horn. Sir Duke, that white-bearded Charles may hear,
and return to aid us !" " I will do no such cowardly thing !"'
was the answer ; " never shall sweet France lose its honour
through me ; my noble sword, Durendal, shall do its work, and
not a Pagan shall be left alive !" Oliver pressed, but in vain.
*' God's mother forbid ! 1 tell you Durendal is ready, and all
the Pagans shall die !" The Franks prepared for the impending
battle: Roland harangued them, and >so did the good Arch-
bishop Turpin, who told them to be under no care about their
souls, for it they died in battle, of a surety they would be
martyrs to the truth, and at once enter the mansions of heaven.
Hearing his voice, the Franks alighted from their horses, and
knelt while the prelate blessed tliem, and told them that tlie only
penance he should require of them would be to strike manfully.

The battle which ensued is graphically described by Turold,
but with so much detail that we have no space for extract. The
exploits of the heroes on both sides — and they are particularized
—are celebrated ; but the palm of valour is, of course, accorded
to the soldiers of Christ. All the twelve peers did miracles ;

128 Dretont Norman, [Jan.

Roland surpassed himself, and Oliver almost matched him. Nor
was Turpin, churchman as he was, inferior to either; with one
blow of his sword lie clave hundreds in twain, from the head to
the saddle, thus dividing their bodies as dexterously as any
anatomist could have done, and in one tenth the time. " Of a
surety," cried the Franks, " our archbishop is a noble warrior,
and the cross is safe in his hands !" But what could a handful do
against a host — one to ten at the very most ? The Christian ranks
were at length so lamentably thinnea, that Roland put his magic
horn to his mouth, " which could be heard thirty leagues and
more,'' and blew a noble blast. Charlemagne, who had not yet
entirely left the mountains, heard it, and said, " Truly, our men
are fighting !" Ganelon, who rode with him, observed, " If
any one else were to say this, I should call it a great lie !" The
monarch suffered himself to be deluded, and rode on. Again
the horn sounded, slowly and painful. " That is Roland's
horn !" said the emperor, " and never does he blow it unless in
battle." Again, too, Ganelon denied that it was the sign of
battle. A third time the signal came on the winds, and the
monarch immediately ordered his host to wheel round, and
retrace the path of the defiles. At the same time, he caused
Ganelon, whose treachery he now suspected, to be placed under
arrest. While this succour was advancing, the battle continued
to rage on the other side of the defiles. Such is the valour of
the Christians, that the host of Marsilius is entirely routed ; but
then his uncle, the King of Ethiopia, advances with a new army,
and assaults the exhausted Christians. " Of a surety," cried
Roland, " we shall receive the crown of martyrdom here ; and
few are the moments left us ; but strike away, and let not sweet
France be humbled for us ! When my Lord Charles reaches
the field, he will see what havoc we have made of the Saracens —
fifteen of them being slain for one of us !" The battle is re-
newed ; prodigies are performed ; but the chances are hopeless,
and Oliver falls mortally wounded. " When the hero felt the
pangs of death — that his head was light — that his hearing and
sight were entirely gone, he lay on the ground — spread out his
hands to heaven — confessed Jiis sins — prayed God for the gift of
Paradise, for the welfare of the noble Charlemagne, and sweet,
dear France; and for that of Duke Roland above all mankind."
There is something remarkably tender in the attachment of
these warriors ; and the grief of the survivors is not ill described by
Turold. But Roland's turn is at hand ; he is at length nearly
alone of all the French host; his wounds are numerous and
mortal ; he feels that his time is come ; yet, in his anxiety to
hear whether the emperor is returning, he again applies the

I

1838.] and AngloSurmttn Poetry. 129

wondrous horn to his mouth, and blows a plaintive, dying note.
The emperor hears, and orders sixty thousand trumjx'ts to an-
nounce that succour is at hand. The Saracens hear the sound,
sent from nioinitain to mountain, from rock to ruck; th?y know
that Charleniaprne will soon t>e upon them ; and ihey make one
last effort to deprive France of her great hope, by the death of
Roland. He falls like the rest, but his last moments are
minutely recorded. As he lay fainting on the grass, beneath a
high tree, a Saracen approached him, saying, " Now, as the
nephew of Charles is no more, I will take his wondrous sword
into Araby !" Roland felt that the weapon was leaving his hand,
yet, with the horn which he held in the other, he struck the
Pagan on the head, and cleft his skull. But, alas ! the magic
horn was also cleft with the blow. The hero has lost his sigiit,
but he knows that there is a white marble stone beside him, and
on it he resolves to break his famous sword, that it may not fall
into Pagan hands, and work e\\\ to France. His dying address
to Durendal is the best i)assage in the poem. " Bright
Durendal ! with thee, many kingdoms have I subdued for white-
bearded Charles ! A good vassal hast thou been to me, and
never shalt thou adorn a coward's hands !" Saying this, he
smote the marble with as much force as was left him ; but the
weapon was uninjured ! " Ah, Durendal ! how beautiful, how
clear, how fair art thou ! how strongly dost thou reflect the rays
of the sun ! Charles was in the valley of Moriana when God
sent t!iee by his angel, commanding him to gird some knight
with thee ; and the gentle king hung it by my side." Then
follow the names of the countries which, by the aid of this
miraculous weapon, he had conquered for him with the white
beard. Again he strikes the marble, and cuts off" a huge piece;
but for all this the sword is uninjured. '' Ah, Durendal, how
beautiful and shining art thou ! In thy handle are some relics,
— a tooth of St. Peter, blood of St. Basil, some hairs of mv Lord
St. Denis, and some of the garments of sweet St. Mary f Un-
seemly were it for Pagans to have thee: by Christians only
shouldst thou be used. Never mayst thou come into a coward's
hands ! With thee many broad lands have 1 conquered, which
now own the rule of white-bearded Charles, the Lmperor, who
is noble and rich !" But he was now exhausted ; he lay on the
grass, spread out his hands to heaven, and prayed for mercy on
nis soul. " Thou, who didst raise St. Lazarus from the dead,
who didst preserve Daniel from the devouring lions, save my
soul from ail perils through the sins which I have committed !'"
Nor was the prayer vain : St. Gabriel, St. Michael, and one of
the cherubim, descended to bear the soul of the expiring hero to

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. K

ISO Breton^ Norman. [Jan.

xhe mansions of the just. — With him ends the interest of the
poem. Charlemagne, indeed, eventually destroys the Saracens,
mourns over his fallen heroes, especially the chief of them, his
sweet nephew, Roland ; and takes signal vengeance on " false
Ganelon ;" but, henceforward, the narrative fatigues rather than
pleases.

The CJianson de Roland affords illustrations enough of the
truth of a proposition we have advanced, — that most of the
romantic lore of Europe is derived from a more ancient source
than Christianity could have furnished. He himself was as much
celebrated in Asia as in Europe, amidst the Turks and even the
Circassians, as among the Franks. He is claimed by Tartar and
Sclavonian, by Ottoman and Scandinavian. By the clergy he was
placed in heaven; by the poets he was carried to the isle of
Avalon to dwell with Arthur and the fairies. Of all his exploits
was not that the greatest by which he made, at one blow of his
famous sword Durendal, the tremendous opening in the Pyrenees,
that to this very day bears his name — the hreche de Roland? Did
not the obedient adamant rend asunder at the stroke of the magic
weapon ? Then as to his horn : was it not even celebrated in
the confines of Europe, — in the snows of Iceland ? So at least
declares the renowned antiquary Olaus Magnus. And then as to
his sword, the unrivalled Durendal ; — many are the legends
respecting it. It was brought from heaven, says Turold, who
follows perhaps the most general tradition. Others assert that it
was manufactured from the spear which entered our Saviour's
side. But the origin has been carried higher still, — to a giant of
the race of Enceladus, and even to Vulcan. Nor was the scabbard
less marvellous, since it was made from the skin of the very
serpent which the infant Hercules strangled. What do all these
legends prove? what but this, that the exploits ascribed to
Roland were originally ascribed to some pagan warrior whom
superstition deified, and when Christianity superseded idolatry,
they were transferred to Roland, as the most distinguished
warrior of Charlemagne's court ?

Many were the celebrated poets who flourished in the same
age as Turold. Among them the author of " The Voyage of
St. Brandan in search of the Terrestrial Paradise," must have
been the chief, though his name has not descended to our times.
It is, in every respect, a most extraordinary poem ; it abounds
with the most splendid imagery: its fable is interesting; it contains
many of the most venerable traditions of the middle ages ; and it
faithfully reflects the manners and opinions of the age. We the
less regret our inability, through want of space, to analyse this
production, as the task has been very recently performed in a well

1888.] ami Anglo-Nonttan Poetry. IS I

known periodical.* Of Gaimar, author of the Estorie des Engles;
of V^'ace, author of the Rmnnn de liou and tlic /irut ; of Bene-
dict de St. Mftur, author of the Chronicles of Norniandv, we
shall say nothing, for these reasons, — the two former have,
within tliese ten years, been rendered familiar enough to tlie

reading public, by jH*riodical writers; and of the last only one

has y«
romances of the Round Table and the Hoty Graal; first, because

volume has yet appeared. Neither can we advert to the

many volumes would be inadequate to the subject, and secon<lly,
because some volumes have been already devoted to it. For the
same reason we must pass over the interminable romances on
Alexander the Great, and the still more exhaustless ones on
religion and morality. Equally numerous are the metrical
romances of chivalry : assuredly many volumes of the Dublin
Review would be insufficient to give even a brief analysis of them.
It was our intention to dwell at some length on the Roman de la
} iolette, by Gihert of Montreuil-sur-Mer, whose potMn has great
interest, and on the romance of Hnvelok the Dane, which has
equal claims to our attention. Both of these we have carefully
read, but finding that in another periodical a brief analysis has
been given of one, and having no space for the other, we are
reluctantly compelled to relinquish the task. 'I'he remainder of
our inadequate essay must be restricted to Marie de France.

Marie, who is generally denominated de France, is beyond all
comparison the most interesting of all the Anglo-Norman writers
whose names have descended to us. So celebrated has she be-
come, tliat the French have eagerly claimed her, founding their
argumenton the denomination just mentioned. She was certainly
what she calls herself, a stranger in Eni^land; but it is equally
certain that she was a subject of the English crown, and born
either in Normandy or Brittany. With the literature and tra-
ditions of lK)th she was intimately acquainted ; and from this fact
we are inclined to believe her a Breton. Few indeed were the
Normans who, like her, were acquainted with the difficult
language of that province. It l«s indeed 'been contended that
she might acquire a knowledge of the Welsh, which was so closely
allied with the Breton, while resident in England; but it is
more than probable that she did so in Brittany itself. What
confirms the inference is the fact of her extensive acquaintance
with the traditionary lore of the province — lore of which some
kindred elements might certainly be found in this island, but
which in so comprehensive a degree could be learned in the
oontinental region only. Whether Breton or Norman, she was

* Blackwood'* .Magazine for ISS6.

k2

132 Breton^ Norman, [Jan.

of necessity connected with England. The monarch to whom
she dedicated her lays, could be no other than our Henry III.
Here she lived ; and her acquaintance with our vernacular lan-
guage was evinced by her rendering the more dubious words not
mto Norman but into English. Besides a knowledge of the Bre-
ton, as proved in her translation of the lays, and of the Norman,
the language in which she wrote, she was conversant with Latin,
from which she translated many of iEsop's fables. Altogether
she was an accomplished woman, and she communicates to
her writings a charm, which female delicacy only could bestow.
Hence she was the favourite of the great. By the king she was
held in much estimation ; but her more immediate patron was
probably William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, and natural
son of Henry H, to whom she dedicated her translation of
^sop. To her general popularity, especially with the ladies,
testimony is borne by her cotemporary, Denis Pyramus, in his
life of St. Edmund.

The Lays of Marie are the most celebrated of her produc-
tions, and she chose the subject on account of its novelty in
England. She had originally intended to translate from Latin
into romance, that is — into the Norman French — some of the
many fictions for which the thirteenth century was so famous ; but,
when she reflect* d that so many writers were labouring in that
path, she refused to be lost in the undistinguished crowd. In
that of Breton roniance, she had little fear of rivalship. She
found legends enough which had not yet been rendered into the
vernacular tongue ; and though they might in their original
form be rude and unpolished, she knew how to make them agree-
able to the high-born knights and dames of England. What
other liberties she took with those legends, whether oral or
written, can never be known ; but we do know that she adhered
to the fundamental characters and incidents, because both are
mentioned in other writings. These Lays, as we have before
observed, are the most interesting relics now extant of the
Anglo-Norman muse. The derivation and meaning of the word
have puzzled many philologists. There can, however, be no doubt
that the Lay was a song, or short poem, adapted both to the voice
and to some musical instrument, and generally relating to the
exploits of heroes. Yet the definition is applicable rather to the
Breton and German pieces than to the French ; for devotional
poems, and even fables, bear the same denomination. As these
became popular in Brittany, Marie concluded that they might
become equally so in Normandy and England. Her judgment
was approved by the event. The fable of them is so striking, that

i

1888.] atui Anylo-Nvrman Poetry. 138

independent of the brilliancy of colourin*^, and of the passionate
sensibility with which slie has invested them, it would oe sure to
con)n)and attention. We caiuiot, therefore, be surprised at the
pipularity which, according to the evidence of Denis Fyramus,
accompanied them, — that counts and barons, and knights and
ladies, were so fond of hearing them.

In his recent edition of the works of Marie, M. de Roquefort
attributes to her pen fourteen of these Lays, which are four more
than those ascribed to her by the Abbe de la Rue. The
subjects of all are derived from IJreton sources. In her pro-
logue she distinctly asserts that they had been famous of old
among the Bretons ; and in other places she declares that they
were not only handed down by traditionary song, but committed
to writing. The first of these productions, the Lnl de Gugeinery
is of a mild character, full of fairy and enchantment. The
adventure, she informs us, really happened in Little Britain in
ancient times, and it is one of those transmitted to posterity by
the pen. But the story, interesting as it is, we should scruple to
analyze; on account of its being founded on an adulterous inter-
course between the hero Gugemer, and the young bride of
an old man. Neither can we advert to the [jii du Fresne,
because it is founded on a circumstance that to modern ears must
not be mentioned. But the Lai du Bisclareret being unexcep-
tional in point of morality, and illustrative of a superstition at
once ancient and general, may be noticed. Bisclarereti says
Marie, is a Breton word, signifying iti Norman-French, gancall.
This is the trenro/f of the Germans,the loup-garoii of the French,
and theXwkaiOpwToc of the Greeks, meaning the man-wolf; viz. the
man who had the power, or was subject to the necessity, of being
transformed into a wolf. " In ancient times," says Marie, " such
transformations were frequent, and the garwall at this very day
hunts in the forest : a most destructive creature it is, delighting
to kill man and beast." Illustrative of this article of popular
belief, she relates the following story. •

Among the lords of Brittany was one endowed with every
quality that constituted the glory of a chivalrous age, — he was
brave, generous, beloved alike by prince and people. To wife
he had a lady of considerable personal attractions, and of a
good family, — one whom he loved and by whom he was beloved
in return. But one thing surprise<i her: every week he was
absent three days from home, nor could any one tell what became
of him during that lime. One day returning from an absence
of this kind in a more affectionate lunnour than usual, he allowed
her to ask him some questions which at another time he would

184 BreloHi Norman^ [Jan.

probably have repressed. Under the plea that his periodical
absence was the torment of her life; that she was continually
apprehensive lest some evil should have befallen him ; that this
state of anxiety was worse than death, and would infallibly lead
to it, she, applying all the endearments of which a woman,
who is desirous of gaining a point, is capable, inquired where
he went, and what he did during nearly one half of his time.
At first, he refused to answer; but, at length, he confessed
that he became a bisclaveret, or man-wolf. And how did he
live? On roots and on prey, like any other wolf. What clothes
did he wear? None at all; he went quite naked. Then what
became of his clothes during the time of his transformation?
This, above all other questions, was that which he had least incli-
nation to answer ; for, if they were discovered and taken away,
a wolf he should remain. He therefore repelled her question ;
but she was not discouraged; she redoubled her importunity,
and at length obtained from him the fatal secret, that his clothes
were hidden under a large stone in a solitary ruin in the midst
of the forest. Her immediate resolution was to be rid, at any
cost, of such a husband. She sent for a knight, who had ven-
tured to make love to her, but whom she had discouraged, and
told him that she would resist him no longer, that she would
grant him whatever he wished, on the condition of his aiding her
in a certain design. Having eagerly embraced her offer, he
agreed to watch the bisclaveret, to seize the clothes deposited
under the stone, and thereby for ever prevent the resumption of
manhood by the transformed beast. This was easily effected ;
the knight no longer appeared ; inquiries were every where made
respecting him ; the lady assumed the widow, pretended much
sorrow, and soon married her lover. But the crime was not to
go unpunished. In a year after these transactions, the king
resolved to hunt in the very forest in which the bisclaveret
abode. The dogs soon fell in with the wolf, pursued it a whole
day, and it was much wounded by the hunters. Seeing that
escape was impossible, the animal went up to the king, seized his
stirrup, kissed his foot, and in the most affecting manner in the
world looked up for mercy. At first the royal hunter was alarmed,
but the tractable behaviour of the brute soon reassured him, and
he called on his attendants to behold it. " See, gentlemen,
what a wonder ! How this beast doth humble itself ! It has the
understanding of a man, and it asks for mercy !"

" Seigneurs, fet-il, avant venez,
Ceste nierveille osgardez :
Cum Cfcste beste se huinilie ;
Ele ad sen de hum, mercie eric !"

I

1888.] and Angio'Norman Poetry. 1S5

He ordered the dogs to be called ofT, and the brute to be
treated with the utmost kindness. He would hunt no more that
day, and he returned to his castle, followed by the bisclaveret.
Not a little did he pride himself on his acquisition ; he even en-
tertained great fondness for it ; and caused the strictest notice
to be given, that whoever ill-treated it need expect no favour
from him. During the day, it frequented the society of tlie
knights, and was the most harmless of creatures : during the
night, it lay in the bed-chamber of the king ; and it became a
universiil favourite. Hut on one occasion it displayed extreme
ferocity, — when the husband of the lady appeared at court. It
flew at him, bit him most severely, and would have worried him
had it not been prevented. This circumstance created much
surprise in the court : how came so gentle a beaSt to exhibit
sucn hatred to the knight ? There must be some reason for it ;
probably the brute had some iniury to revenge. Very glad was
the knight when the court broke up to return home. — Another
circumstance confirmed the general impression. When the king
went a second time to hunt in the forest where the bisclaveret
was found, the lady appeared before him to make him a cus-
tomary present. The wolf, which was in the royal suite,
instantly flew at her face, and bit off her nose. Neither the
courtiers, nor the king himself, could tolerate this outrage; and
the bisclaveret would have been sacrificed, had not a philosopher
(sage-hom) happened to be present. " Sire," said he, " listen
to me a moment ! This animal is always with you ; we all know
him ; and all are on the best tenns with him. Never has he
showed the least anger to any one but this lady and her husband.
By my fealty to you, 1 dare swear that he has reason to com-

f)lain of both. \ou know that she was married to a knight
ligh in your esteem both for his virtues and his valour, and tliat
he has been lost to us a long time. If you put this woman to
the rack, she will certainly confess somethmg, and we shall
perhaps learn why this beast hates her. Many are the wonders
that we have seen in Brittany." The king approved the advice ;
he arrested both the knight and the lady, and consigned them
to prison. The latter, terrified at the pain she was about to
endure, confessed the whole truth, — how she had betrayed her
first husband, by causing his clothes to be seized. From that
day she knew not what was become of him. for never had he
returned home. Yet all this time she had no doubt the brute was
her husband. The first thing the monarch did was to order the
clothes to be brought, and laid before the wolf; but the animal
paid no attention to them. The reason was, as the wise muu

136 Breton^ Norman, \l9\\.

told him, that there were too many spectators present. ** Never,
sire, will he chani^e his shape and clothes himself before this
company : he is aiiaid to be seen in the transformation. But if
you will take him into one of your bedrooms, and leave his
clothes near him, certainly he will soon become a man." The
king himself took the wolf into an inner apartment, and, leaving
it there, fastened all the doors. In a short time he went back,
accompanied by his barons and knights ; and in the royal bed
they found, not a wolf, but a comely chevalier fast asleep. The
king ran to embrace him, and kissed him a hundred times.
Immediately he returned his lands to him, and gave him many
other proofs of his esteem. The lady and her paramour, who
had betrayed him, were expelled the country. Many children
had they in the sequel, all easy to be known by their faces : the
girls were born without noses Very true it is, strange as it
may appear, that many women of the race are without a handle
to their faces. The whole story is deserving of credit, and to
preserve its remembrance, the Bretons have turned it into a lay.*
This superstition we have asserted to be generally diffused.
It is, or at least was, to be found in these islands, in Spain, in
all the provinces of France, in Germany, among the nations of
Sclavonic, no less than of Celtic and Teutonic descent. To
select one curious illustration from the rest. According to
Olaus Magnus, the Archbishop of Upsal, yearly, on the festival
of our Lord's Nativity, towards night-fall, a great number of
men, transformed into wolves, assemble in a stated place,
and, during the same night, they rush alike on man and beast,
with a ferocity never exhibited by natural wolves. Woe to
such human habitations as lie scattered through the immense
solitudes of the country ! Strong indeed must be the doors and
windows that can resist the combined attack, and when once
broken, swift destruction descends on all living things within.
They evince their human character by entering the cellars where
ale or mead is stored, and speedily do they empty the casks,
which they leave in the midst of the cellar, piled one upon
another. In this they differ from genuine wolves, which have
no relish for such beverage. The region which they honour
with their annual presence, is said by the inhabitants to be big
with fate. If, for example, a man, while travelling through it,
is upset in his sledge, and immersed in the snow, it is believed
that he will not live to see another Christmas-day, and indeed
this has been often experienced. On the confines of Lithuania,

* Lai du JJihilaveri-t, v. 1 to 319 (Koqucfort, Poesies de Marie de France, torn. i.
}). 178 to 200.)

I

18S8.] and Anylo-Sonnan Poetry. 137

Samogitio, and Courlaiul, (proceeds the Archbishop,) there \s a
wall belonging to a ruined castle; and here also, on a certain
day, some thousands assemble to try the agility of each indivi-
dual amont; them : the one tliat cannot clear the wall at a l)ound,
as is generally the case in regard to the fat ones, is nnmediatejy
beaten by the chiefs. Among these men-wolves, it is confidently
affirmeil that there are some nobles of the land, — some even of
the highest nobility. This metamorj)hosis, so contrary to nature,
(it is still the Archbishop who speaks) is effected by any one
versetl in this species of magic, and the meclium is generally a
cup of ale, which the victim must drink before the charm can
have any effect ; and certain words must, in addition, be spoken.
When the transformation into the wolf is to be niade, the man
seeks some cave, in the depths of the forest, and there the
iuiman form is exchanged for the brute: in like manner, after a
certain space of time, when the change is to be made from the
brute to the lunnan, the same retirement is sought. But the
venerable prelate is not satisfied with the general description of
the wolf-men : for our farther edification, he has individual
examples. — As a certain nobleman was travelling through the
forest, accompanied by some rustics, who were not unacquainted
with this species of niagic, (as are most of the inhabitants of
these shores), the evening approached, and there was no place
of entertainment for them. They had no provisions, and
hunger tormented them. When they had pitched their tent for
the night, one of them requested the othei*s to express no sur-
prise at whatever they miglit see. There was a flock of sheep
quietly feeding at a distance ; but what human feet could be
swift enough to secure one of them for supj)er ? He went into
the thickest part of the forest, and there transformed himself
into a wolf. Then rushing on the flock, he selected one,
and returned with it to the tent. His companions received it
with much gratitude, and hid it in the tent ; while he agjain
plunged into the forest, and re-assumed the human form. 1 he
^ood Archbishop has evidently no distrust of the story ; but he
18 still more confident of the following. — Not many years ago,
there hapjiened in Livonia to be a dispute between a lady and
one of her scarfs, whether this transformation was jK)ssible. To
convince her of the jwssibility, the serf retired to the cellar, and
soon came out in the shape of a wolf. Unfortunately for him,
he was immediately pursued by the dogs, who chased him for
many miles without mercy, and destroyed one of his eyes. The
day following, the serf returned to his mistress with one eye only.
A third anecdote we shall translate from the same prelate. —

188 Breton, Norman, Sj[c. Poetry. [Jan.

Within the memory of men now living, it happened tliat a duke
of Prussia, being mcredulous as to the existence of this magical
power, caused one that had the reputation of possessing it to be
fettered, and to be told that he should not be released until he
exhibited some proof of his skill. The man thus constrained
immediately transformed himself into a wolf. The duke was
satisfied with his skill, but committed him to the flames.

But we must dismiss this entertaining poetess : unfortunately,
too, we must omit the examination of many other poets, whose
productions we have analyzed, and whose character we have
attempted to ascertain. The subject, however, will not lose
much by delay ; and we propose reverting to it on some future
occasion. Owing to the ardour of the French for Anglo-Norman
literature, — an ardour with which our own indifference cannot
be very favourably contrasted, — we are not likely to want text-
books. Every year adds to the store of materials necessary for a
history of that branch of European poetry. So vast, however,
is the field, that a century will hardly suffice for its exploration.

Art. VI. — 1. An Introduction to the Sclentijic Labours of the
Nineteenth Century. By Henri de St. Simon. 2 vols, raris.
1808.

2. Vlndmtrel. By the same. 3 vols. 1817.

3. Literary, Philosophical, and Practical Opinions. By the
same. 1 vol. 1817.

4. New Christianity. By the same. 1 vol. 1808.

5. Statement of the St. Simonian Doctrines. 2 vols. 1831.

6. Teaching of the Supreme Father. 1vol. 1831.

IF it be true that the Catholic Church has too often had to
lament over the superstition which the lower orders of her
people have ignorantly mixed up with the truth; if it be true
that many Protestant sects have found in the misuse of the Holy
Scriptures, a stepping-stone towards Bedlam, — yet, for all this,
we will not admit that modern philosophy can reasonably impute
to Christianity, abuses which prove only the weakness of the
human mind. Assuredly, nothing can less resemble the religion
taught by the gospel than the St. Simonian doctrines, or, in other
words, many of the feature of the Utilitarianism of Jeremy Ben-
tham, whose most zealous disciples made it their boast, that they
were not Christians. Many of the new sect had already acquired

1888.] Suint'SimonhrtM. 189

some reputation for the extent of their acquaintance with politi-
cal economy and nialheniatical science ; many had receivea their
education m tlie Polytechnic school.?, and were certainly not
prepared by their precedinj^ studies, or their private habits, to
compete in credulity with the rude peasantry ot Spain, or in ex-
travagant entlmsiasin with the followers of Johanna Southcote.
Nevertheless, men thus enlightened, thus pre|)ared for the un-
biassed exercise of their mental faculties, have far outstripped,
in the race of human folly* not only the blind fanaticism of our
ranters, but even the wildest aberrations of Indian idolatry.
Will philosophy, who cannot refuse to acknowledge them as her
disciples, avow herself the accomplice of their absurdity ? or if
she refuse to be responsible for their theories, with what justice
can she impute to Christianity the wild fancies of the ignorant
Catholic, or the far wilder vagaries of sectarian madness? Cer-
tainly St. Simonism, considered as a practical proof that incre-
dulity is no preservative against complete degradation of the
intellect which Gotl has given us, nor yet against the most ab-
surd opinions, is an interesting study; and on this account alone,
we think, we should be justified in examining this system — al-
though already condemned by public indignation. But other
considerations may be added, which will place in a more striking
point of view the importance of the enquiries we are about
to make. St. Simonism is, in fact, but a branch of political
economy, or rather that science itself raised to the dignitv of
a religion ; for the first object which the authors of this new faith
proposed to themselves, was, that of solving the difficult problem
of pauperism, by the assistance of their favourite science. By
degrees their views enlarged, and they perceived, that a nation
witliout religion — a nation corrupted by the opinions of Voltaire
to the degree that France was, could not long support itself under
the baleful influence of modern infidelity ; and this they under-
took to counteract by giving her a new faith, a new system of
morals, and a new hierarchy. Animated for the most part by
pure philanthropy, they began their work with courage and
fervour ; bnt their path was unenlightened by revelation ; for
they rejected all help save that of human reason ; they resolved
to act otherwise and better than God — and God so abandoned
them to tlieir own follies, that at length Atheism itself, like Sin
before her first-born Death, recoiled with disgust and horror
from the monster whom they brought into the world. No
reasoning could prove so forcibly the necessity of revelation, and
the insufficiency of mere human reason to govern, regulate and
discipline the world, as the fact, tliat such should be the result of

140 Saint-Simoni»m. [Jan.

the labours of such eminent men. Considered in this light, the
study of the St. Simonian doctrines is both consoling and edify-
ing to those who have held fast the faith of their fathers : and to
Catholics it will be an especial ground of satisfaction, to s^e, that
these innovators who were to change the face of the earth, were
obliged to have recourse to the institutions of our Church, al-
though, by their imitation, they disfigured and degraded them.

Strange as it may appear, the St. Simonian Utopia implied
the existence of a sovereign pontiff, and of an episcopacy of
priests: it also required auricular confession ; and it was while
searching out the means most conducive to the material prosperity
of the human race, that these speculators became convinced of
the temporal utility of those popish innovations. But before
arriving thus far, the St. Simonians had made profound investi-
gations in political economy, from which the statesman who
studies their earlier productions may receive much information.
Before they propagated their new worship, they had explored all
the sources of national wealth ; and France is indebted to them
for the weakening of those prejudices which have frequently
obscured the views of so many of her rulers. They almost
entirely destroyed the sort of superstitious veneration so long
entertained in this country for the system of the sinking fund;
by them the system of commercial restrictions was first strongly
attacked ; and through their influence, railroads, combined with
immense internal improvements, became popular with our neigh-
bours. The strong impulse given on the other side of the
Channel to industry and commerce, and the adoption by govern-
ment of more enlightened and more liberal views, may, in part,
be attributed to their first writings. They have thus acquired
some title to the gratitude of their countrymen ; and although
their system in the last and most logical of its forms, tended
directly to produce frightful immorality, and the destruction of
all the rights of property, yet we are bound in candour to admit,
that they have concentrated a stronger phalanx of youthful
talent, and a greater mass of historical science and practical
knowledge, than had ever before been brought to bear upon the
illustration of political economy.

Those who see in the St. Simonians nothing but dreamers,
such as our New-lights and Methodists ; and wlio suppose that
amongst the follies they have imagined, there is no mixture of
any thing useful and worth consideration, should be reminded of
such names as Michel, Chevalier, Pereire, Buchez, Comte, and
many others, who, having first created, and then abandoned, the
new faith, are now to be found at the head of most extensive

fi

1888.] Saint-Sirnonitm. 141

commercial undertakings, or enliglitening the government of
France by the extent of their real and practical knowledge.
But before giving our readers an account of the Suint-Simonian
doctrines, or a history of iheir progress, we think it right to point
out the causes which procured them (although for a short time
only) such decided success in that country, where, of all others,
one would be the least inclined to expect any of the enthusiasm
of religious zeal. It is certainly not in France that one would
have anticipate<l any success for a form of worship that set out
by abolishing all right of private property, and required of its
followers to give up what they already possessed. Nor could
anything seem less probable than that France, of all countries,
should give birth to a religion, which began by establishing an
absolute authority, under the name of Supreme Father ; round
whom his disciples, the humble satellites of their chiefs, should
learn to group themselves at his caprices with all the docility of
the Lamas before the incarnate God whom they adore. And
et there was a time, towards the end of 1831, when the Catho-
ics on one hand, and the government on the other, felt serious
alarm at the increasing number, and the blind fanaticism of the
proselytes to St. Simonism ; so great a change in the cold,
ironical, and selfish habits of the unbelieving portion of the
population ; such a sut)j ligation of men heretofore so easily
excited, by their democratical passions, to resistance against
royal authority ; so easily irritated by any appeal to their anti-
Christian prejudices, is not the least remarkable circumstance in
the new doctrines. Indeed, there would have been something
quite miraculous in it, had not a concurrence of circumstances
for some time past been preparing the way for what had other-
wise been perfectly impossible. If there is one fact more than
another which is demonstrated by history, it is certainly the
aristocratical character of Protestantism at its commencement.
The Catholic clergy were then j>ossessed of immense wealth, and
the nobles who had been ruined by civil w^, or by their own
prodigality, saw, with displeasure, in the hands of the priest-
nood, wealth which had been bestowed on them by their own
ancestry. The reformers offered the nobles an easy method of
realizing, under colour of conscientious scruples, an immense
system of confiscations ; and they thus raised up a great |)art of
the lay barons in opposition to the ecclesiastical barons, lliis
was the talisman which gave such power to the innovators of the
sixteenth centurj'; and neither Spain nor Italy could have es-
cajxKl their influence, if the aristocracy had been as powerful in
those two countries as in England and the north of Germany.
For every where the populace were Catholics. It was the lower

142 Suint-Simonisin, [Jan.

orders, assisted by the citizens of the great towns, who, in
France, formed that famous association known by the name of
" The League," and triumphed over the Huguenots, whose
strength, in fact, lay in a party amongst the nobles and the
vassals whom they could influence. Henry IV himself, in spite
of his courage and personal popularity, could only date the com-
mencement of his reign from the day when lie became Catholic ;
and such was the aversion felt by the mass of his subjects for the
religion he had so long belonged to, that it was not without some
hesitation that he ventured to promulgate the famous edict of
Nantes in favour of his old co-religionists. Unfortunately for
the Calvinistic party, this edict stipulated in their favour not only
for liberty of conscience, but also that they should have possession
of several fortified towns, in which garrisons were to be main-
tained by government, but to be at the disposal of that party.
There was thus, at the death of Henry, a state within a state,
imper'mm in imperio ; and one cannot be surprised that the
Catholics, who, by their numbers, constituted the nation, siiould
have felt at once indignant and alarmed at such a division in the
forces of the empire. They, therefore, continually tended
towards driving the Huguenots from their strongholds; and
these, too weak to defend themselves, naturally sought, in their
turn, for support in Protestant nations, in England and in Hol-
land. The French Calvinists thus became an anti-national
party ; and the patriotism of their fellow-subjects became more
and more irritated against them, in proportion as the foreigners,
whose alliance they had solicited, took a more hostile part against
their common country. The assistance given by Charles the
First to the rebels of Rochelle, occasioned, at a later period, the
revocation of the edict of Nantes, when the weakness of Spain
had changed all the political relations of Europe; until then his
Catholic Majesty had been the chief enemy of the Kings of
France, and they could depend on the fidelity of the Protestants
against Philip and his successors; but this fidelity was no longer
so secure, when England and Holland, far more to be dreaded
as rivals than the cabinet of Madrid had ever been, commenced
those wars against the despotism of Louis XIV which ended so
fatally for that prince. When he entered upon a struggle with
such formidable external enemies, it became, by all the rules of
human prudence, his duty to release himself, at whatever cost,
from his discontented subjects, who were their natural allies, and
who had it so much in their power to embarrass him by internal
disturbances. There is no doubt that royal bigotry had a great
part jn the detestable persecutions the Huguenots had then to
undergo; but those Protestant writers abuse the credulity of

1888.] StiifUShnoniftm. 143

their readers, who endeavour to prove that the influence of the
Catholic clergy produced tliis nagrant violation of liberty of
conscience. Louis XIV hstened to his ministers, not to his
bishops, when lie expelled from his states the reformers who
preferretl their creed to their country. He acted then as Eliza-
beth did when the S{)anish Armada was upon our own coasts ; —
but justice requires us to draw this distinction, that the English
Catliolicshad never given battle to their sovereign, nor concluded
public treaties with his declared enemies. 'Ihe very different
conduct of Louis XIII, and of Louis XiV himself, during apart
of his long reign, shews how much the gradual decline oi Spain
influenced the fate of the French Calvinists. The first of these
two monarchs, in obedience to the wishes of his people, took
away the strojigholds that had been left to the Calvinists, and
reduced them to an equality with his other subjects; but if they
no longer possessed exclusive privileges, at least they laboured
under no disabilities ; the highest functions of the state were as
open to them as to Catholics; and there were Huguenot Marshals
of France, governors of provinces, and ambassadors.

No one as yet thought of converting them ; not even Cardinal
Richelieu, who died satisfied, that in destroying their power, he
had broken down the last bulwark of the ancient feudal system.
Louis XIV at first followed the same plan, and did not begin
in earnest to. favour the missionaries, whose zeal led them to
those provinces where there were most reformers, until the Pro-
testant nations had excited his serious alarm. He then, in the
first instance, had recourse to persuasion and court favour to
bring back the Protestants into the Church ; and he the more
confidently reckoned on success, because their number was compar-
atively small: conversions multiplied; the courtiers exaggerated
their number ; and the proud monarch, who, not unreasonably
considered every French Protestant as necessarily the ally of his
future enemies, determined at length to drive from his kingdom,
by a k^islative act, those Calvinists who r«nained obstinate,
resisting alike the eloquence of his preachers, and the seductions
with which he had surrounded them. The exiles, who were
principally of the middle classes, and some gendemen, took re-
fuge in the neighbouring countries; and by their ardent hatred
against the nation whicli had banished them, seemed, in some
sort, to justify the precautions to which they had been sacrificed.
Meanwhile, the new converts, who had too often yielded only to
fear or to ambition, had rather become bad Protestants than
good Catliolics ; and the recollection of the violence thus done
to their consciences, prepared their posterity for tlie atheistical
corruption of the regency, and still later for the lessons of in-

144 , Saint -Simonism. [Jan.

credulity they were to receive from the philosophers of the
eighteenth century. By these, however, the defence of the re-
formation was warmly undertaken ; and they thus reconciled
themselves witli such Protestants, as had had the good fortune
or address to escape the enquiries of government in the pre-
ceding reign, or who had returned to profit by the toleration of
the Duke of Orleans.

Thus was cemented a close alliance between the unbelievers
and the Protestants in France, and the bond of union was their
mutual aversion for the Church of Rome. Unhappily no unbe-
liever embraced the doctrines of Luther or of Calvin ; but of the
reformed Church many became unbelievers, retaining only the
name of Protestant; while many free-thinking philosophers were
called Catholics, because they had been born within the pale of
the Church. But they rivalled each other in ridiculing revela-
tion, and treated with equal contempt the doctrines which are
common to both persuasions. No doubt there were still sincere
reformers in France at the outbreak of the first French revolu-
tion ; and those provinces which had been spared in the revoca-
tion of the edict of Nantes, — Lorraine and Alsace, — contained
many such. Still the reformation had suffered amongst our
neighbours more perhaps, in proportion, than Catholicism itself,
from the effects of philosophy. What took place when liberty of
conscience was proclaimed by the unhappy Louis XVI, and
during the fury of the revolutions which succeeded, would seem
to make out this proposition. The .Jacobins respected Protestant
churches, yet they did not multiply ; and the number of Pro-
testants rather diminished than increased. Such Catholics as
continued to stray out of the pale of their own Church, little
thought of seeking a shelter within the precincts of any other;
whilst not a few Protestants who mingled with the crowd of
unbelievers, lost even the denominations by which they should
have been distinguished in the Christian community. I'he fifty
years that have elapsed since that period, have changed nothing
in this direction of opinions ; and we defy any well-informed
traveller in France not to confirm our assertion^ that the number
of Protestants in that country, who have in any degree retained
their religious faith, is so small, as to form only an exception,
which rather strengthens than invalidates the rule. This decay
of Protestantism amongst our neighbours is a fact not sufficiently
well known. In England, we are not aware how little Catholics
abroad concern themselves with those controversies amongst
different branches of Christianity, which are so active amongst
us. With them Christianity is Catholicism ; and that even by
the avowal of the philosophers, who are competent judges. It

r

1838.] Saint ShfwfiixM. 14J

follows, that there are few discussions upon the meaning of texts
of the Holy Scriptures, as to the authority of the Church. The
question debate(I amongst them is, whether there is, or is not, a
God and a revelation ; so that in the multitude of books published
by Catholics on the Continent, during the last thirty years, in
defence of their cause, there is scarcely one which has been
directed against the reformed Church. Dr. Wiseman's admir-
able ItH^tures upon the Connexion between Science and Reienled
Relitfinn, have already gone through several editions ; whilst those
— not less admirable — which he has written on the principal
doctrines of the Catholic Church, have not, so far as we know,
been ever translated ; and for this reason ; that they defend our
holv religion only from the att.icks of our dissenting brethren ;
wlnle in France, generally speaking, none are considerecl Chris-
tians except the Catholics. Upon this subject public opinion is
so decided, that the conversions to Protestantism, which occa-
sionally, but seldom, hap[>en, are considered only as official
declarations of unbelief. If the inhabitants of a parish are
chiefly free-thinkers, and at the sjxme time discontented with their
pastor, they address the government with a request for a Pro-
testant minister. Such are the prodigies of grace which form
the boast of our Bible Societies ! But let them ask their new
converts their belief respecting the mysteries of the Trinity, the
Incarnation, and the Redemption, the replies they will receive
will speedily silence their exultation. Thus, the population in
France may be divided into two classes ; the one com|>osed of
Papists, who believe in all that the Church of Home believes;
the other of free-thinkers, who belong by birth either to the
Catholic Church, or to the different Protestant sects, Superior
in activity, ardour, and talent, the first class has long governed
the country ; and from the beginning, whilst persecution was
most sanguinary, its very advocates and promoters acknowledged
the necessity of a Religion. Robespierre himself attacked
Atheism during the deplorable days of its triumph. He sent to
the scaffold the faction who strove to found the creed of the
nation upon nuiterialism : he officially proclaimed the existence
of a supreme being ; and it was evident from the papers found
after his death, that he had intended to establish a new worship, of
which he himself was to have been the Mahomet. After his death
his projects were resumed by the Directory ; — or rather, the
men who succeeded him, understood, like himself, that no jx'ople
can exist as a nation without a religious faith of some kind.
Then appeared the Theophilanthropists, under the direction of
La Reveill{;re-Le»saux ; several churches were given up to them ;
and they instituted feasts and liturgies. But the free- thinkers

VOL. IV. NO. VII. L

146 Saint-Shnonism. [Jan.

laughed at their mummeries; Christians turned from them in
disgust; and the new religion had died a natural death before
the return of Bonaparte from Egypt. This extraordinary man
saw at once, as his forerunners llobespierre and the Directory
had done, that the edifice of his power would be founded upon
a quicksand, if he could not revive in the Frencli nation the vital
principle of morality, based on revelation. Had Protestantism
at that period still retained in France the energy which it had
possessed in the sixteenth century, no doubt Napoleon would
have declared himself a Protestant, were it but to punish the
perhaps too exclusive attachment of the Catholics to the dynasty
of Bourbon : but his eagle-eye perceived at once that the only
faith which still had followers was the faith of Rome ; and, over-
coming all opposition, he concluded a treaty with the Pope — a
treaty by which the Catholic religion was once more officially
declared, what it was in fact, the religion of all Frenchmen
who had a religion. On the part of their new chief, the con-
cordat was certainly only an act of policy ; and it is in this point
of view that it is so highly important, as it shows us how deeply
this great genius, although himself an unbeliever, felt the neces-
sity of a religion which should be based on revelation, and not
the offspring of philosophical inquiries; and also his full convic-
tion that Catholicism was the only faith which could sustain
itself in the country. As the princes of the elder branch of the
house of Bourbon were themselves sincere believers, we can
draw no inference with respect to the state of France from their
steadfast adherence to the Roman faith. We will only say, that
their meddling and imprudent zeal revived the ancient attach-
ment which the Catholics had vowed to them, and this of itself
was sufficient to give fresh vigour to the hatred entertained by
the liberal party for Christianity. The name of royalist became
synonimous with that of Catholic, as that of Christian already
was : and, during fifteen years, the French press ceased not to
attack, with unexampled violence, the throne and the altar, — or
in other words, the monarch who loved the priests, and revela-
tion as represented by the priests. But during the restoration,
incredulity assumed a new form ; for the rising generation, tired
and disgusted by the obscene immorality of the eighteenth cen-
tury, were gradually adopting, under the guidance of MM.
Royer CoUard, Benjamin Constant, Guizot, and Cousin, a
system of spiritualism, which was more elevated, if not less
hostile. These were unanimous as to the impossibility of govern-
ing any nation without the assistance of something in the shape
of religious doctrine ; and indeed, they went so far as to admit
that their great, jf not only, objection to the Catholic faith,

1838.] Stiint'Shnofusm. 147

was, thftt its tenets were no longer appropriate to the wants,
habits, and knowledge of the present generation, 'J hey soon
expressed a desire to see the ap[)earance of a religion which
should be more in harmony with modern civilization ; and they
even went so far as to pretlict that lunnan intellect would ere
long discover a doctrine which should be independent of all
revelation, and demonstrable in the same manner as a mathema-
tical truth; and in which men would find a rule for their belief
and their morals, which would be more consistent than the
gospel with the progress of modern intellect. Two things are
particularly remarkable in the writings of that period. In the
first place, according to the eminent men whom we have men-
tioned, the practical utility of a moral and religious doctrine
should be considered as the proper criterion of its truth ; so that
the same worship vnny be true fiming a certain number of ages,
and may cease to be so at a later period, when no longer in con-
formity with the well-imderstood interests of the human race.
In the second place, unbelief, though excellent when it serves
to destroy a religion which has lasted its time, is, nevertheless,
what llobespierre. La Reveill«>re-Lessaux, and Napoleon, had
believed it to be, an inevitable cause of destruction to the
country where it takes up its abode. At the same time that the
more philosophical spirits of France were following this new
direction, the nation profited by the peace of the restoration to
develope its immense resources ; manufactories arose, and the
French exerted themselves upon their internal improvements
with all the impetuosity of the national character. \\\ anatiu'al
consequence, political economy became a popular science ; and
Say's treatise, which had been published, first in 1802, and
forgotten amidst the wars of the Empire, was now reprinted,
and became universally known. A multitude of olher writers
followed his track, and the science which he taught was culti-
vated with especial care; but the rapid progress of industry was
checked ; the French market became over-stocked ; the price of
labour fell; and the comforts of the lower orders decreased, whilst
the general wealth of the nation was rapidly increasing. The cause
of this deplorable anomaly became a question of great import-
ance; and the French political economists, who at that time
were all liberals, chose for the most part to attribute it to that
dynasty, which in truth had revived the commerce of the country ;
and to the Jesuits, whom they accused of being the royal coun-
sellors. In fact, their language to the workmen might be con-
densed into these words : " Drive the Bourbons and the priests
out of the country, and you will have good wages."

Meanwhile, amongst the young philosophers of France, there

l8

^48 Sainl-^iinonimn . ' [Jan.

were many wlio were engaged in the study of political economy,
and who imaoined that, by the help of that science, ihey should
succeed in finding their grand desideratum, — a doctrine which
should be in accordance with modern civilization, and at the
same time able, by taking the place of Catholicism, to save the
world from the dangers that threatened it from the progress of
universal scepticism. In their hands, political economy became
divided into two distinct branches. To the first they gave the
name of " social economy," because it is the science of all those
institutions by the help of which societies subsist, beginning from
the family and mounting up to the state ; and because we learn
from this science what should be the nature of those institutions,
in order lo secure the greatest possible quantity of general pros-
perity. 'The second branch, moving in a humbler sphere, was
the science of Smith and Ricardo — political economy in its strict
sense, — or, in other words, the science of the elements of the wealth
of nations, and the means of increasing it, when a nation is consti-
tuted. This division, which at first seemed imperfect and obscure,
but which was in facta correct one, tended much to promote the
birth of St. Simonism. The study of social economy in a
country essentially democratical, led to an inquiry into what was
the greatest good to the greatest number; and this, by a neces-
sary conseijuence, brought under discussion a division of the
fruit of common industry. The philanthropy of the young phi-
losophers gi ew wonderfully zealous ; and declamation abounded
upon the fati> of the workmen. Their great point was to melio-
rate the condition of the majority, by the foundation of a new
worship; and, at the same time, to sjive society from the dangers
of unbelief— dangers which had been rendered more alarming
and more manifest by the revolution of July. They sincerely
believed that Catholicism was extinct ; and they had no idea of
Christianity under any other form. Love of their fellow-crea-
tures, ambition, vanity, and the reasonable hope of succeeding
by the assistance of the lower orders, — everything concurred, at
the beginning of 1831, to gain numerous proselytes to St.
Simonism. It is a singular fact, that the man who has given his
name to the new sect, and has been deified by it, never suspected
during his lifetime the part he was to play after his death. Count
Henri de St. Simon belonged by birth to the family of that
famous duke of the same name, who was contemporary with
Louis XIV, and who has left us his interesting memoirs. He
was born the 17th of August 1760; entered the army ; served
with Lafayette during the American war ; and returned to Paris
to enjoy all the amusements he could command by his high birth
(of which he was excessively proud), and by a large fortune.

i

18.58.] Saint ShnonuHt. 149

But the excesses of all kinds to which he gave way, couUl not
extinguish his vanity, or his ambition ; and his servant had
orders to awaken him every morning with the words : " Arise,
my Lord Count, you have great things to perform." 'I'hese
"great things" were confined at first to sjxKruhitions in assignats
and on the Bourse, — which were ruinous to his fortune, already
much impaire<l by his dissipation. He however colIecle<l what
remained, and travelled in many foreign countries; connected
himself with the learned atheists, so numerous in France towards
the close of the eighteenth century ; and at length applied him-
self to a project for the reorganization of all the sciences, by
uniting them into one, with the aid of a theory which sliould be
common to all. His writings increased in number ; but they
were unattended to until 1814. He then embarked in politics,
and continued writing and publishing upon this subject, until
at length, forsaken by his family, and ruined by his publishers,
he fell into such extreme distress, that in ISi^O the unhappy man
endeavoured to destroy himself ; he was wounded by tlie pistol
which he fired, but he recovered ; and it was then tliat he laid
down more clearly the foundations of the system which has since
been so strangely applied, extended, and disfigured by his
disciples. We say his disciples; for now he be<ian to have some;
and anjongst them were, Augustin Thierry, author of the flistoi-y
of the Normin Cotif/i/est ; Olinde Rodriguez, a Jew ; and several
vounj; men, most of them belon};in<; to the l^olvtechnic School.
St. Simon died in 1825, leaving to his heir, Olinde Rodriguez,
all his papers, and amongst them the unpublished work entitled
The Neic Christ'iatnty — a title which will sinprise such of our
readers as do not know how familiar to the free-thinkers of the
Continent is the idea of engrafting upon Christianity the new
worship, which they so ferventlydesire. It is certain, however, that
their ideas do not turn upon the foundation of a new sect. Their
projtH^t is to give to the gospel an entirely philosophical charac-
ter ; to assimilate it to the books of Confucius,' by rejecting from
it whatever is miraculous and divine: and thus to make of it a
code of morality not yet explained, but which they were to
interpret in a new manner, by the help of the progress of exist-
ing civilization. But before arrivingat this point, the author had
attentively examiiuHl the moral and intellectual state of Europe,
and had been chiefly struck by the incoherence which existed in
the ideas and the labours of the learned in his time. He bitterly
reproached them for not co operating in their efforts, and that
some pulled down, by their investigations and studies, what
others had laboured to build up : and he was earnest for the
creation of a sacred college, whose members, while seeking for

150 Saint •HimoHinm. ^Jan.

truth each in his especial science, should nevertheless be united
to each other by the bond of a common rule. He wished for
unity in science, in order that he might attain to it in morals ;
because, in his notion of moral duties, human reason alone had
the right to seek them, and the power to demonstrate their
reality. As early as 1808, he so confidently believed in the
social utility of associations of this kii'd, and in the necessity of
a common creed, thai he addressed to the Bureau des Longitudes
the following remarkable words : —

*' Since the fifteenth century, that institution (the Catholic Church),
which, till then, had nniti'd the nations of Europe, and curbed the
ambition of people and of kings, has been gradually becoming weaker.
It is now completely destroyed ; and a general war, a frightful war, a
war whicli threatens to swallow up the European population, has already
existed for twenty years, and swept away millions of men. You alone
can reorganize society in Europe. Time presses; blood is flowing —
hasten to declare yourselves."

The Herculean labour which the French academies would not
undertake, M. de St, Simon has sketched out in his Intro-
duction to the Scienlijic Ltihours of the Nineteenth Cetitury,
which appeared about the same period, of 1808 — a work which
is more calculated to raise questions than to resolve them,
in which the author has engraved an encyclopedical tree, and
has occasionally abandoned himself to the strangest hypotheses.
But amidst the wild fermentation of his mind, one idea predo-
minated over the rest, and was to him, or at least he believed it to
be so — what, according to some grey-bearded old women, the
fall of an apple was to Sir Isaac Newton — the cause of a discovery
which he considered far more important than that of the prin-
ciple of gravitation. This marvellous discovery, which was no
other than the unlimited perfectibility of the human race, had
already been made by Vico, Kent, Condorcet, and many others ;
but we must acknowledge that the future god had made it his
own by the manner in which he enlarged and applied it. As
the doctrine which bears his name is entirely founded upon this
theory, we will lay before our readers some account of the
way in which he explained the first steps of man in his progress
to perfection.

" Man was not originally divided from other animals by any strong
line of demarcation ; on comparing his structure both internally and
externally with that of other animals, it is clearly, upon the whole, the
most advantageous of all. Why attribute his moral superiority to any
other cause ? The line of demarcation between the intelligence of
men and the instinct of aninmls, was not clearly defined until after the
discovery of a system of conventional signs, either by speech or writ-

i

18S8.] Saint'Simonitnt. 151

ing. If the difference is now immense between the intelligence of men
and of other animals, it is because man hax placed himself, since the
first generation, in the most advantageous situation for perfecting his
faculties; the number of his race has always increased, while that of
animals, even the most intelligent next to himself, has constantly dimi-
nished. In all the relations of man with the brute creation, he has
impt'ded the progress of their mental faculties ; forcing some to conceal
themselves in the deserts), reducing others to slaver}', and constantly re-
sisting the development of such of their faculties as might enable them
to struggle with his own dominion ; while he has favoured with all his
power the improvement of such as might make them more serviceable
to himself; so that the moral nature of man has always tended to per-
fect itself— and that of animals as constantly to deteriorate. If the
human race should disappear from the earth, that species whose
organization is, after his,^the best, would gradually go on improving.
It is essential for the correctness of certain political reasonings, that
mankind should be considered as divided into many varieties ; and of
these the European variety is undoubtedly the first, since it has esta-
blished itself in that purt of the globe which produces the largest
quantity of corn and of iron."

Thus St. Simon supposed, that a first age of humanity had
terminated with the discovery of lanjjuage and of writing; and
that these discoveries had permanently secured to mankind a
superiority over all other animals, and, that thenceforward, (to
use a form of classification adopted by some naturalists), the
genus homo became that jx)int upon which were concentrated all
the powers of perf'ectihiliiy which had previously bei'n distributed
over the universe— that thus, Plato's biped without feathers was
carried on, by an internal and irresistible impulse, from progress
to progress. In this inevitable and ascending march, the author
of the htfroducttoH to the Scientific I.uhnurs of the Ainetrenth
Ci'nfurf/, distinguishes the members of the human faniily from
the family itself, and, like Condorcet, draws a parallel betwixt
the general growth of society, and the growth ot the individual,
rising up from childhood to adolescence ; and at length, with
years, to the full vigour of manhood. The reader will see at
once, that this comparison — so much admired bv modern phi-
losophers, and which forms in fact the principal argument by
which they endeavour to prove Catholicism no longer in harmony
with the age — by no means goes to prove that tlie perfectibility
of the human race is unlimilcd; for if the individual gains
strength and perfection up to a certain time, there follows then
a period of decline ; and, if we adniit the mrallel, our philoso-
pher will have to prove that it should not be carried to its full
extent — and that civilization is not subject like ourselves to the
sad necessity of decay and death. For our own parts we bhould

152 Saint- Simonism. [Jan.

almost be lorry, if ilie animals - our former eouals— should thus
lose all chance of entering uj)on the career ot " progressive im-
provements." Why should not all the brutes reign in their turn ?
that would be more just and more logical, if we admit an intrin-
sic equality in the nature of all living things; and this hypothesis
once established, why should not our philosophers employ them-
selves, in preparing means for the intellectual progress of the
beasts they have the greatest liking to ? The last act of absolute
authority is, to appoint its successors; and modern philosophy
would show the high idea it entertains of human dignity, by
determining before hand, which of the four-legged species shall,
in a few centuries, philosophize in its place. Nay, who can say
that it is not with some such view, that stage-managers have
lately been so anxious to choose their actors from amongst
animals? Dogs and horses, lions, elephants, and even fleas,
have appeared in succession upon the boards; and now that we
are acquainted with their respective talents, we are able to assign
to the best-qualified the post of lords of the creation, which
hitherto Christians have believed themselves to hold in virtue of
the divine will, and of the superiority of their essence.

Unluckily, modern philosophers, instead of holding the balance
equally between all living creatures, destroy the force of the only
argument they have to prove the perfectibility of our species, by
supposing this perfectibility unlimited; in other words that the
human race is to continue eternally to improve, and tlmt so de-
cidedly, that although external obstacles should succeed, for a time,
in compressing the progressive power which is innate in us, it must
nevertheless in the end surmount every difficulty it meets in its
way. To prove this theory, St. Simon, and after him his disci-
ples, have made immense historical researches, and it would be
unjust to deny that they have greatly contributed to the taste at
present prevailing for this species of study. In order to catch
the connexion of particular facts, S^. Simon divided them into
distinct series, which comprised the successive improvements
made in the sciences, in the arts, in conin^.ercial industry, in re-
ligion, in morality, and in social organisation; and these he
summed up into what he called the general or predominating
influence of each particular epoch. According to him, mankind,
taken as a whole, has constantly gone on improving; and this
assertion, developed by his disciples, has contributed prodigiously
to weaken the prejudices entertained against Catholicity; and,
indeed, if their hypothesis were true, then every religion, as we
follow the course of time, must have been better than that by
which it was preceded. And the faith of Rome being the most
recent, at least among civilized j)eople, the consequence is that it

I

1888.] Sahtt-Sanonixm. 158

must be greatly superior to nil that have existcnl before it ; ac-
cordingly the St. Simon inns have always spoken with res|K»ct of
our Church, have rejecietl with bitter contempt the sarcasms and
lies of the eighteenth century, and professed a high veneration
for those Popes who are most detested by Protestantism, — the
famous llildebrand for instance, whom many St. Simonians have
not hesitated to class amongst the great benefactore of the human
race. Perhaps the reader will be surprised that, according to
this theory, they should not have admitted the reformation as an
amelioration of Christianity ; but they have never considered the
reformation as proving anything but that mankind had outgrown
Christianity. To explain this it is necessary to state that they
divide the diflerent periods of history into religious epochs, or
epochs of organization, and epochs of enquiry or incredulity.
Kach period of organization begins by the introduction of a new
si>cial theory or general idea; and terminates when this_theory
has been completely fulfilled and applied, by penetrating and
embuing the nmruls, customs, and social and |)olitical organiza-
tion of tne most advanced nations. Then comes a period of in-
credulity, or a critical epoch, arising from the inability of these
1)eople to make farther progress without the help of a new theory.
[iut this new theory cannot be applie<l until the destruction of
the worn-out forms of the old system; and till the opinions by
which it was characterized have been abandoned. In the first
instance, therefore, the ancient edifice must be demolished, and
even its ruins cleared away, that upon the unencumbered soil a
new edifice may be erected, able to meet the increasing wants of
an expanding face. Such then is the task allotted to these crit-
ical periods, or periods of incredulity ; a task of destruction and
not of construction. This task was fulfilled, and this destruction
accomplishe<l, as regards Pjiganism, by the ancient philosophers;
and they had prepared the way for the Gospel, in the same maimer
as, according to St. Simon, Protestantism and mo<lern philosophy
have in their turn performed their duty, by shaking, and at lengtli
overthrowing, the papal superstitions. Not that Paganism and
Christianity, (?. e. Catholicism) were not excellent in their time,
and exactly what would have been most advantageous to humanity
in infancy and afterwards in its adolescence; but as the first was
not suited to the youth of mankind — so the second has ceased to
be fitted to its riper age.

And thus philosophy on the one hand and reformation on the
other — equally incapableof organizing anything— have neverthe-
less done immense service in their own way by their implacable
hatred of that mode of worship which has produced the present
state of civilization, with all its prodigies. But the epochs of

16 A Saint-Simonism. [Jatu

enc^uiry must themselves come to an end, and a fatal one, when
their work is done ; and philosophy (which believes in nothing),
as well as the reformation —valuable only as the destroyers of
Catholicism, must now perish themselves, since their victim is
deceased. Alas, poor papistry ! from the emperors who caused
medals to be struck pro superstitione de/tcta, down to the reverend
divines in lawn sleeves who took it for the great whore of Babylon,
and fixed, by the help of the apocalypse, the preordained hour of
its demise, how often have its enemies seated themselves trium-
phantly upon the coffin where they believed they had inclosed
it! — and each time, like its divine founder, it has cast off the
winding sheet they had wound around it, more youthful, more
majestic, and more powerful than ever ! Has that giant grown
old who, even in these days of universal scepticism, has, with a
word of its mouth, crushed the rebel genius of a Lamennais, per-
haps the greatest writer in France ? That Lamennais, whom
tl e reader will find thus named in the following extract from the
exposition of the Saint-Simonian doctrine:

" The best interests of mankind are waiting for us, as I wrote to you
in my last letter: shall we serve them by consuming our useless lives
in idle attacks upon the tottering chair of St. Peter?

" The present is but an instant in the duration of time ; our's is an
age of renovation ; the stamp of age and dotage is upon it : why should
we stand by, ^vatching the dispersion of its remains ? Let us carry back
our imaginations to the times when that edifice, whose ruins we behold
to-day, was erect, anticipating proudly an eternal duration : then, over-
leaping an immense space, let us soar with daring flight over the future,
and, from this point of view, let us henceforward interrogate the past,
and re-demand from it the faith, the hope, the love, , which it has
neglected to preserve for us. No, I can never admit, — and you now
know why I return to this subject — that the Protestant clergy, or rather
the agglomeration of men who bear that name, exercise with respect to
authority the same prerogatives as the clergy of Rome. De Maistre,
I'Abbe de la Mennais, yourself, in your letters to the Glasgow Chronicle,
and indeed public notoriety, make it impossible I should give way upon
this point.

" You say that the disciples of Saint- Simon appear to you in the
commencement to have been Roman Catholics ; I thought I had better
informed you on this subject; but since you cling to such an opinion,
let me hope that you will be convinced by the two following reasons.

" In fact, the disciples of Saint-Simon may be divided into converts
from the Jews and from the Catholics. In principle they are before
all things disciples of Saint-Simon ; and the old man, whatever he may
have been, has disappeared in thi m. All the religions of the past have
been preparatory and successive states for humanity, and it is as the last
link in the chain of improvement that we admire Catholicism, although
condemned to extinction.

I

1688.] Haint-Simunum. \55

The paMt muy be divided into religious and irreligious epoclis, and of
these, hiMtory poinUi out to us the four la^t period.**.

" Religious antiquity : Paganism and Judaism : Irreligious antiquity:
Greek and Roman philosophy, and Sadduceeism.

" Modern religiou.s epoch : Catholicism. Modern irreligious epoch :
Protestantism. This nomenclature once established, it would be cor-
rect to say that the disciples of Saint-Simon have all begun by being
Protestants ; a result which you certainly did not foresee." — Letter to
an English Protestant.— Vo\. ii. p. 259.

In England, two men of great talent, and who by different
methods have attained some celebrity, Mr. Owen and Mr.
Irving, have perfectly agreed with Saint-Simon and his school
as to the fact of an approaching regeneration of the human race.
All, moreover, have agreetl implicitly or explicitly, that Euro-
pean society could not exist much longer in its present state, but
must lull into univers<il chaos if it were not saved by the infusion
of a new life, manifesting itself by new forms. It is worthy of
remark that they all were led to these desolating conclusions by
considerations drawn from political economy, and which were
in the first instance suggested by the distress of the working
classes. The gradual decline of wages, connected as it is with
the growing knowledge and importance of those whose comforts
are constantly decreasing, is an evil, the magnitude of which they
fully understood, and as they were satisfied that it could be per-
manently mitigated neither by a political change, nor by any
other device within the present reach of human ingenuity, they
dived boldly into futurity, with the hope of discovering, far
beyond the limits of existmg facts and institutions, an adequate
remedy. Mr. Irving, in whom religious enthusiasm predomi-
nated, sought it in the second coming of the Messiah ; Mr.
Owen, in his Co-ojx'rative Societies; and Saint-Simon in the law
of the necessary development of human nature. More learned,
bolder, and more imaginative than the other two, his mind em-
braced the history of the past, and sought in it a* formula expla-
natory of the present, and a rule which should be applicable to
the future. lie had studied the subject of industry in all its
branches, and made it a part of his system of unlimited {)erfect-
ibility ; assigned to it a first-rale place in the destiny of mankind,
and traced its progress from its origin, when manual labour fell
exclusively to the share of the slave. He followed the slave in
all his transformations, into a serf in the first place, then into a
free man; and he perceived that, at each change in the condition
of the working classes, industry had attained a higher station,
and manifested greater energy. In his opinion, this progressive
improvement could no longer continue without a radical altera-

156 Saint' Simon'tsm. [Jan.

ration in the existing relation between the labourer and his
employer; and he considered that the want of this alteration
accounts for the ravages of pauperism. The periods, both of
wages and of slavery had passed away, and by the force of
events the approaching epoch of organization was to give, with
a new religion and a new morality, a new form to the rights
of property, and was to substitute the system of copartnership
for that of daily wages. We say a new morality, — for the author
allows us to perceive in all his works, that the moral duties are
not more unalterable, nor more out of the reach of perfectibility,
than any thing else. And in this, be it observed, Saint-Simon
has done little more than follow up and rigorously apply a prin-
ciple which is pretty generally admitted, by those who are not
Christians, and who derive their notions of what is just or unjust,
not from the divine will, but from the nature of mankind in
general, or in other words, of society. They, therefore, see
nothing in morality but subordination, the sacrifice of individual
to general advantage. And, if this hypothesis were once ad-
mitted, we should see no reason why the precepts of morality
should not change with the lapse of ages ; for the common weal
undoubtedly changes its character at difl'erent times: requiring
at one time what at another might be highly injurious. No
doubt a Catholic will laugh at a theory, according to which what
was right betbre the introduction of rail-roads, may become
wrong after this discovery has taken place ; because the Catholic
seeks his ci iterion of good and evil beyond the sphere of mor-
tality,— in the imperishable and unalterable determination of his
Maker: but he who rejects revelation must take for his rule of
morality either the statute book, with Hobbes, or the general wel-
fare ol his species, with Saint- Simon and Bentham. Saint-
Simon, however, never undertook to define the worship and the
system of morals which were to replace the faith and the deca-
logue of Christians; although, in his last work, published after his
death, which took place 19th May 1825, he promised to the
world this important revelation. His I^&w Chrislifuiifi/ in its
present state contains little else than a long charge of heresy
against Catholics first, and then against Protestants ; Christians
of all denominations having, according to him, deviated from
primitive Christianity; making themselves accomplices of the
higher orders, in their unjust oppression of the labourer; that
is to say, of those very classes whom the Gospel was intended
to liberate. Amongst his complaints against Luther, whom
he looks upon as the representative of the entire Reforma-
tion, there is one so curious that we shall give it in his own
terms.

i

1838. j Suint-S!tnonhm, 167

** LuthiT was a very powerful and energetic man for the purposes of
criticUm or inquiry, but it was only in this point of view that he
showed very great capacity ; thus lie proved in the most complete and
nervous manner that the court of Rome had quitted the direction of
Christianity; that on the one hand she sought to constitute herself an
arbitrary power — that on the other she strove to combine with the
powerful against the poor, and that the fiiithful should oblige her to
reform hersi'lf. But the labour which he gave to the reorganization
of Christianity was much less than it should have been. Instead of
taking the ncccM»sary steps to increase the social importance of religion,
he has caused it to retrograde to its starting point ; he has placed it
again without the WimXs of social organization — he has thus recognised
the power of Csesar as that from which all others emanate; he has
reserved to his clergy only the rights of humble suppliants to the tem-
poral power ; and has thus condemned pacific minds to remain in
perpetual dependance upon men of violent passions and military
capacities."

One other extract will contain all that there is of consequence
in his book, upon what he more than once calls " the future
religion of mankind."

•' The Nfw Christianity will be composed chiefly of the same ele-
ments as now make up the different heretical associations of Europe
and America. The New Christianity, like the heretical associations,
will have its worship, its morality, and i(s dogmas. It will have its
clergy ; and this clergy will have its chiefs ; but notwithstanding this
similarity of organization, the new Christianity will be purged from all
actual heresies. The doctrines of morality will be ccmsidered as of
first importance ; Faith and Doctrine will be looked upon as accesso-
ries, the principal object of which should be to fix the attention of the
faithful of all classes upon morality.

" In New Christianity all morality will be deduced directly from this
principle, * that men must act like brothers to each other.' And this
principle, which appertains to primitive Christianity, will undergo a
transfiguration, after which it will become the appropriate object of all
the religious labours of the present day. »

" This regenerate principle will be presented in the following man-
ner:— Religion must direct society towards the grand object of the most
rapid possible melioration of the fate of the poorest class. Those who
are to found the new Christianity, and to constitute themselves chiefs
of the new church, are those who are most capable of contributing by
their labours to increase the welfare of the lower orders ; the functions
of the clergy will be simply teaching the new Christian doctrine, in
the perfecting of which, the chiefs of the church will labour without
ceasing."

The importance of unity in scientific labours ; the necessity for
a social regeneration, by the aid of a new religion and morality;
the substitution of the principle of association for that of wages;

158 Saint- Shnonisin. [Jan.

the supremacy of capacity of every kind over all other social dis-
tinctions; the dominion which the peaceful labourer should have
over the idle ; — these are the consequences that Saint-Simon
would draw from his great law of the unlimited perfectibility of
man, and which he left as his only heritage to the small number
of disciples who surrounded his death-bed.

They were faithful to him, and very shortly afterwards they
produced a monthly journal, entitled Le Ptotlucteur ; and that
paper, though little noticed at the time, contained very remark-
able articles upon political economy and history; in it there were
also original views upon the nature of projjerty ; and amongst the
conductors were already found the names of MM. Bazar and
Enfantin; the first, a decided republican and one of the prin-
cipal members of the French Society of Carbonari ; the second,
merely an agent of the " Caisse hypothecaire," a sort of territo-
rial bank. Dissensions, however, began to appear; the most
enthusiastic thought that the others were too anxious about the
material wants of society, and not sufficiently so for their moral
necessities. JThey affirmed that the critical or irreligious period,
begun by the reformation and continued by modern philosophy,
had lasted long enough ; and they accused their dissenting bre-
thren of giving all their attention to man, forgetting that the
feminine sex made so great a part of the human race. They
separated ; and Le Producleur was replaced by another journal,
entitled U Organizateun in this the Saint-Simonian doctrines
took quite a different character; a religious feeling was more
clearly displayed in it, and the necessity for a new religion was
openly avowed as a fundamental principle by the editors. They
sought it in the material wants of society, and in the necessity
for making all institutions — moral and political — the hierarchy of
ranks — and even the rights of property — subordinate to the wel-
fare of the majority ; they affirmed that a powerful and revered
priesthood was a condition necessary to this welfare ; and they
summoned to this priesthood persons of all capacities and of all
sorts of employment ; for the priest in this new society, from
whence the idle were to be expelled, was to be the most learned,
the ablest, and the best, from amongst those who labour in the
field, or in the workshop, or who cultivate science or the fine arts.
In short, they were to be at once apostles and political econo-
mists. As apostles, they promulgated the advantages of a
priestly hierarchy who should rule the world for the benefit of
the lower orders. As economists, they declared that capital of
all sorts is but an instrument of production ; and they asked
why the landlord and the monied man, whose only office was to
furnish the labourer with this instrument, should receive, under

t

I

18i8. Haint-Shnoniain \59

the names of rent and of interest, such an exorbitant reward for
such a triflinj^ service rendered to the community. Give, they
continue<l, to the priests of the future, all the lands and money
in the world, and tney will ask from the labourer neither rent nor
interest; they will seek out only the most skilful; and produc-
tion, released from a great part of the heavy expense by which il
is now burdened, will become infinitely more fertile than at pre-
sent, to the great benefit of the laboring classes, and to the
detriment of none but the idle. This principle, confused as yet
as to its practical details, but sufficiently clear to the understand-
ings of those who were to profit by it, was wonderfully adapted
to the state of public opinion in France, at the time when the
revolution of July broke out The great commercial crisis of
1825-26 had shaken the general confidence in the political sys-
tem of Say and his school ; the situation of the working classes
became more and more alarming, aiid the want of some religious
curb was, as we have already said, felt even by the freethinkers, who,
however, were determined not to return to Catholicism, and yet
felt unable to become Protestants, without going farther, and
adopting the Catholic principle, by receiving along with the
Holy Scriptures, the authority of a living and visible interpreter.
If to these favourable circumstances, we add the existence of
multitudes of young men of great talents but of small means,
who saw a brilliant career opening in the priestliood of the new
religion, — if we consider the enthusiasm of many philanthropists
who were ready to sacrifice at least a part of their fortune to the
general gomi — we shall not be surprised at the success which
attended Saint-Simonism in the early part of 1880. It was,
indeed, very great; and the prime support of all infant associa-
tions— money, was not wanting. Besides L'Orf/unizaletir, they
were then able to support a daily journal, entitled /^ Globe, and
they held public sittings, where they explained their doctrines.
These doctrines, although veiled in part from profane eyes, may,
we think, be defined in the following manner.

"That men are all equal ; and that the two sexes are entitled to
the same rights and privileges, making an exception, however,
for the difference in natural capacity, and for the use which each
individual, male or female, may make of that capacity ; that
society was established in order to secure to its members the
greatest possible quantity of material happiness; and that its
organization will Ix? perfect when the sum of enjoyment allotted
to each individual shall be according to his ability and his works,
and without reference to his birth; that from the beginnimr the
human race has been advancing to this point; and the different
religions which have succeeded each other, have brought it

100 Saint •Simonhm. [Ja!i.

nearer and nearer to this final object of all social institutions ;
that all the progress hitherto made, man has owed to those
religions which have made a ruling priesthood, and a supreme
spiritual authority, indispensable; lor such religious opinions as
want these two requisite instruments —and a fortiori human
philosophy — are powerless to associate, and can only destroy
what exists. That paganism was, and must have been, exclusively
sensual, because it received the hunjan race at its first emerging
from a state of nature ; and that in this sense it was an improve-
ment. In its turn Christianity came to meliorate the pagan
world : it was and ought to have been exclusively spiritual,
because the worship which it replaced had fallen into the other
extreme. I'he one had changed brutes into slaves, the other
elevated slaves into free men ; but it allowed the possessors of
capital to make use of the class it had enfranchised ; it retained
the privileges of birth and property, even while it opened a career
in the priesthood to plebeian talent which it had never before
possessed; it sanctioned the inferiority of woman, and finally
established a fatal opposition between the flesh and the spirit;
condemning the former, and thus consuming the life of man in
one long and painful struggle between these two great sources of
strength. That Christianity has lasted its time, since the defects
of this institution are now perceived and felt : and that they could
be remedied neither bv the reformation nor by philosophy, since
neither possessed the principles of authority, which alone can bind
together individuals, and cause them to co-operate. That in the
meantime society falls to pieces and can only be saved by a new
religion; that Saint-Simonism is that religion; and is true
because it satisfies all the actual wants of perfected humanity.
Its practical dogmas are the organization of the whole human
race into one vast family of labourers; that this family shall be
ruled and governed by a sacerdotal hierarchy, which shall itself
be subject to a supreme head. That property and inheritance
shall be unknown, because every individual shall be remunerated
from the common revenue according to his ability and his labour ;
that the priests will distribute justly, because they will themselves
be the most loving, the best, and most enlightened. The idle
will cease to be, consequently there will be an end to the
employment of the poor by the rich ; no longer will talent,
whether for arts, science, or laborious industry, be condemned to
languish, scorned by wealth or hereditary rank. Christianity
had emancipated man alone ; the new creed is to set woman also
free, and summon her to an equal share in all the rights which
the other sex have till now unjustly kept possession of. She will
be priest, magistrate, doctor, and savant ; or rather, the human

I

ie88.] Saint-Shnoniiw. 161

race is to divide itself into couples formed of man and a woman, and
each individual in the new society will be a couple ; an andro-
gyne composinl of twoelements, freely uniting, and freely separating
when other affinities shall cause them to disunite and to form new
combinations. These two elements are to be equal in power,
honour, and prerogative. The woman is no longer to be slave to
a father, who sells her to a husband, — to a husband whose
contempt for her may throw her into the arms of a lover; — the
body will be re- instated in its rights, and there will be no more
sin, because no farther opposition between flesh and spirit, and evil
is impossible when this opposition does not exist. The pleasures
of the senses will be things holy and moral, and the opera will
become the church of the true believers. The truth of Saint-
Simonism is already scientifically demonstrated by history and
political economy; and nothing remains but to constitute the
sacerdotal hierarchy, whose duty will be forthwith to fix, upon
these bases, the moral and religious dogmas which are destined
to regenerate the world.

This sacerdotal hierarchy, who were to exercise such absolute
sway, and at the side of whose authority that of Rome was to be
thrown into the shade, was at length constituted immediately after
the revolution of J uly ; and the beUerers took the name of the Saint
Simonian Family : this singular family, in which every thing should
have been new, began by servilely copying the institution of the
Koman Church; for it was composed of a chief called Father
Supreme (Fo|>e) ; of a College ol Apostles (Cardinals); of Dis-
ciples of the first degree (Bishops) ; of Disciples of the second
degree (Priests); and of Disciples of the third degree (Laity).
Without, were the visitors (catechumens) or aspirants to the
title of members of the family. There was, moreover, a dea-
conrv, composed of apostles or disciples of the first class, having
the Supreme Father as president. To him wiis entrusted the
charge of the budget of the society, which was considerable;
for at the end of 1831 the number of disciples* of the third
degree and of visitors amounted to upwards of three thousand,
and the society could afford to distribute gratis its journal, I e
Globe. It was by the gifts they receivetl that they covered their
expenses; and these gifts, at least those which were announced
by the Ghbe^ amounted in IS.'H to the sum of 830,810 fiancs,
72 cents. (£13,232). This will appear enormous, when we con-
sider that in the course of the same year the Saint- Simonians
went through many internal revolutions, and that their divided
family had been more than once on the point of breaking up.
In the first place, it was not without extreme reluctance that
many of them would consent to make a religion of Saint-

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. M

162 Saint-Simonism. [Jan.

Simonism; and when it was so determined MM, Conste, Buchez,
Lenniiiier, and many others, left the society. The secession would
have been greater, if the necessity of invoking the freedom of
conscience promised by the charter, in order to escape the effect
of the two hundred and ninety-first article of the penal code,
(which allows government to disperse all unions of more than
twenty persons,) had not furnished a powerful argument to
the more zealous. The construction of the hierarchy was a
new cause of discord ; and the family, divided between the claims
of two candidates, were obliged to have recourse to a duum-
virafCi by electing Messieurs Bazar and Enfantin to the high
office of Supreme Father, the functions of which they fulfilled
together. The last of these was unquestionably the most ambi-
tious and the least disposed to shrink from the consequences of
the Saint-Simonian doctrine. The throne on which he sat he
found too narrow to admit a colleague, and on the 19th of No-
vember 1831, after a memorable discussion, of which we shall
have more to say by and by, M. Bazar withdrew, followed by a
rather large number of partizans ; and Enfantin was left alone,
the Supreme Father of the Saint-Simonian family. However,
in spite of internal disagreements and quarrels, as yet secret
from the public, — which were destroying the unity of their col-
lege,— the Saint-Simonians were graduallv defininjj their reli-
gious theories, and their morality. The first part of the task
was not easy ; and in the short space of two years, their creed
underwent more variations than have happened to Protestantism
in as many ages. The two chief points they had to settle were,
the nature of God, whose existence they all admitted, and the
future state of man after death. As to the first point, they were
evidently Pantheists, although their profession of faith, drawn
up by Enfantin, was couched in the following terms : —

" God is all that exists.
All is in him ; all is by him ;
None of us is out of him ;
But none of us is him ;
Each of us lives by his life ;
And we all communicate in him ;
For he is all that exists."

But what is ambiguous in this symbol was sufficiently cleared
up by the language of the Apostles who were charged with the
weekly preaching at Paris. We quote the following passage
from a sermon preached by M. Tronson on the 11th of April
1831:—

" The universe," he fays, " and the immensity of worlds which fill all
space, and in these worlds all that loves, thinks, or acts; this earth, and

1888.] Srtint-Shnonhm. 161

upon it all tlie human family — you who listen to us and we who teach
you — all that exiitts, exists in one unique, individual, infinite, being —
and this being ia God."

Their idea of the future life, so far as we can ascertain what
it was, shows with equal clearness the PatJth»*istic character of
their ideas. They thoujrht that the dead were born a<;ain or
rather revived in their fellow beings, to receive an increasetl
degree of perfection; this opinion they have never formally de-
fined, but It is easy to trace it in their writings, and to see that
time alone was wanting to its development as an article of faith ;
and, indeed, in another sermon, preached the twenty-first of
January, M. Jules le Chevalier, addressing himself to humanity
in general, uses the following terms : —

" Thou wilt love to lire in the present, developing thy body &n well
as thy mind, and thou wilt love to remember thy past life, and to pre-
pare thy life tt> come. And, then, in the divers generations of the
double family, thou wilt (frow eternally in love, in wisdom, and in
beauty — and thy life always renewed at each of its phases, a journey
of initiation through ages and in the midst of worlds, thy life at once
individual and collective, will have no limit but immensity ; no end but
eternity. Then the spirit will no longer be mortified by the flesh, nor
the flesh subdued by the spirit; nor shall the kingdom of earth be
separated from the kingdom of heaven; nor suff'ering be endured in
time, to secure happiness in eternity ; but there will be a holy harmony
of all human desires. And then there will be no more the hell, nor
the paradise, the eternal repose, nor the eternal damnation of Chris-
tianity; neither will there be the absolute death of materialism — but the
progressive ei^lutum of man in humanity — of humanity in (iod. Hu-
manity I behold thy religion, behold thy law, behold thy life I"

There is, however, great incoherency, both as to the existence
of God and the future state of man, in the Saint-Simonian
writings. They constantly admit that the doctrinal part of their
worship is yet to be arranged, but they comfort themselves for
the slight inconvenience of having a religion without religious
faith, by frequently re|x»ating that in every religion the only
point of any real consequence must be the morality which fixes
the duties of individuals to one another; to this point, therefore,
they directed their chief attention, atid on this side lay the rock
that shipwrecke<l them. The popularity thev maintained in the
most democratical country in the world, while they kept to their
watchwords, — " Abolition of inheritance and private property,"
** Talent the only rule for classification," " To every one
according to his ability, and to ability according to its works," —
forsook them, when, under the pretext of enfranchising women,
they gave publicity to a theory so audaciously infanmus that we
dare scarcely do mote than indicate its principal features. They had

M 2

104 Sa'tni-Simonhm. [Jan.

organized their priesthood, tliey had obtained disciples so fana-
tical, that they came cheerfully to lay at the feet of the Supreme
Father the greater part of their fortune; they had invented a
costume which they wore fearlessly before the astonished or
sneering crowd; they had established workshops where nume-
rous workmen laboured in common for the benefit of the family;
but the power they had acquired vanished like a dream, from
the moment they dared to give a new character to the conjugal
union, or rather to abolish it entirely, and to substitute for it tne
unbounded and disgusting liberty of the brute creation. Yet
it was by considering, as they believed, the actual wants of hu-
manity; by consulting reason, when released from the trammels
of revelation, that thej reached this degree of monstrous folly :
one would say that Providence had deputed to them the task of
proving the insufficiency of the mind of man when left to him-
self, without other lights than those of philosophy and science.

We have already said that the Saint- Simonians had consti-
tuted their hierarchy; and, according to their theory, the world
was to be governed in the following manner. At the head
of the whole human race they placed the Supreme Father ; in
immediate contact with him was the College of Apostles, whose
members he was to select, and they were to divide among
themselves the superintendance over the whole human race.
Each Apostle was to have had under his orders a certain num-
ber of disciples of the first degree, or bishops, — who in their
turn were placed over a certain number of disciples of the second
degree — or priests. These, who stood exactly in the position of
cure, were each to have had his parish, inhabited by disciples
of the third degree — or laity. As inheritance was to be done
away with, the ecclesiastical superior, was at the death of each
priest or layman, to bestow his possessions on the best entitled,
that is to say, on the most talented ; and the Supreme Father,
armed with boundlessauthority, would have controlled this immense
machine, becoming thus a thousand times a more despotic sove-
reign, than the emperor of China; and the monarch of the world,
in fact, from whence all political power would have been
banished, to make way for his. This power, however, and that
of the whole priesthood, was to be founded in love ; and, as the
pleasures of the senses were declared holy — it consequently fol-
lowed that physical beauty was to become a cnpncity — a title to
command. It was as the most beloved, and in some degree as
the most beautiful — that they had chosen the chiefs of their
priesthood. But, according to their theories, these chosen indi-
viduals were as yet incomplete, and must continue so imtil each
had united himself to a woman who should have the same rights

1838.] SaiMt-Simariisi/t. 165

to Uie ministry as her associate, and was to exercise them con-
jointly with him. This perfect equality being established between
the two sexes, there arose imineuiateiy a necessity for regulating
the reciprocal duties of the Saint-Simonian An(frogyne — of the
couple, whether clerical or lay — which should be composed of
two parts, equal and perfectible, but not necessarily |x»rfecting
themselves in the same time or to the same degree: were they to
be constraintxl to continue indissolubly united, when the harmony
which first caused their union had been destroyed by the im-
provement or the backsliding of either party? And, if the flesh
was indeed re-established in its rights, and sensual pleasures had
become holy, was Jidultery to continue an evil, because Christians
consider it a heinous crime? These two grave questions long
divided the college; and the d uum-v'ir a t e^ yfho exercised toge-
ther the functions of Supreme Father, as well as the college,
divided u|X)n the second; Bazar, who was father of a family,
had no objection to the separation of the couple: he allowed
divorce, and consented that the woman should have the same
rights resj>ecting it as the man ; but he recoiled with horror from
the consequences of carrying out his doctrine.

Vainly was he reminded that, as St. Simonism had done away
with even the notion of sin, he would be in fact returning to
Christianity, and abjuring the religion at whose head he was
placed — if he should persist in affirming that fidelity between
man and wife was a virtue. Bazar's internal conviction, his
conscience, all his feelings, revolted from this idea, and he obstin-
ately continued to answer all objections by the words : " I insist
that every son shall know the name of his father."

Enfantin was more consistent ; he saw that when once inherit-
ance was abolished, and absolute equality established as of right,
between all children from the moment of their birth, it would
become necessary, in order to substantiate this equality, that
fathers should not know their own children, lest they should
favour them at the expense of the others. Even this was not
enougl) ; as the mother-priest would always, it was to be feared,
show partiality to her own. Enfantin did all that could be done
to maintain the principle of absolute equality; and the frightful,
yet logical, consequences which he deduced from the abolition
of inheritance, are not the least of the objections which mav be
brought against the system of universal levelling.

The first result of these dissensions (which as yet were known
only to the college) was, that Bazar was degraded to the post of
doctr'nvil cA/V/"— which post he soon threw up, and sejiaratetl
from Enfantin, who remained aloiie as Supreme Father. It was
on the 19th November 1831 that this secession took place; when,

146 Saini-t^imomsm. [Jan.

before a general assembly of the Saint-Siinonian family, Enfantiii,
bard pressed by the inferior disciples, allowed them to suppose,
rather than fully explained to them, a theory, which the public
already suspected, but which was fully understood by the college
alone. We shall enter into no details, although all have been
printed in the InstrnctUms of the Snpreme Father. Suffice it
to say, that many of those present testified their abhorrence
— that the charge of prcnniscuous intercoume was broadly and
distinctly made — and that Cecile Fournel, a disciple of the
first order, protested in the name of all the women of the
Saint-Simonian family, against the installation of vice ; — the
organization of adultery, — which ^^as now proposed, under the

{)retext of establishing, by the ministry of the priest-couple, a
larmony between beintjs of profound affectionn^ and beings
of quick but inconstaut affections. Many disciples, and some
apostles, withdrew with Bazar; and the family received a check
which foreboded its speedy dissolution. So great, however, was
still the enthusiasm of Enfantin's adherents, that Olinde Rodri-
guez dared to proclaim him the most moral man of the epoch;
and the Globe declared that the Supreme Father had never ap-
peared so imposing, so priestlike, so be(xntifuU as during this
discussion. This meeting was remarkable in another respect.
The preacher, Abel Tronson, complained bitterly that Enfantin
liad revealed the secret he had entrusted him in confession ; and
the anti-catholic part of the public learnt, with no small surprise,
thnt^ for the good of humanity, and as one of the conditions of
the general progress, the Saint-Simonians had borrowed auricular
confession from the Catholic Church: they had already invented
a sort of baptism, a marriage, and a service for the dead, — they
exacted an implicit and unarguing faith in their words. So that
their religion was not unreasonably compared to what Catho-
licism might be, if she could fall into dotage, and disfigure, by
idiotic drivelling, the truths that had been entrusted to her. A
jiew era— an era of perfect extravagance — took place in the
short life of Saint-Simonism. The free woman, the female
Messiah, — the representative of her sex, as Enfantin was of his,
— the woman who was to be the future spouse of the Supreme
Father, became now the phoenix whose apparition was to dis-
perse all doubts, and secure the universal triumph of the doctrine.
A seat was reserved for her beside the Supreme Father, in all the
ceiemonies of the family, and M. Duvergier, the poet of the
fuinily, and now one of the most distinguished dramatic authors
of Paris, put the finishing stroke to the reinstallation of the
Jiesh, by annoimcing that the wonderful woman, who was so
impatientJy expectea, might even then be wandering, in the

1838.] Saint-SimoHisM. 167

streets of the capital, a victim to the Christian prejudices, which
beheld in her only a coiiinion prostitute. Pecuniary difficulties
now bejifan to embarrass them ; they had sent missionaries into
the principal towns of France, Kel«;ium, Germany, and even
England, where, however, their presence was scarcely perceived.
At Toulouse, Bordeaux, Metz, Marseilles, and Lyons, they
succwded in colltHrtin*; a certain number of disciples; but they
were not so fortunate in Belj^ium, — their theories respecting
women met with the most violent opposition. At Brussels ana
Liege, the people rose against them ; and, to the honour of the
Catholic clergy — of the clergy who had been decried as so into-
lerant— it was they who, in the Belgian congress as well as in
the midst of a furious populace, insisted u|)on the right of the
Saint-Simon ians to the protection of the police, and also that
they should be allowed to preach their doctrines freely. But all
these mi!>sions — the expense of workshops — the publication gratis
of a newspaper — and the luxury of the Supreme Father, who
considered it a duty by no means to mortify his flesh, — had soon
exhausted the resources they had found in voluntary gifts.
Olinde Rodriguez, the heir of Saint-Simon, and who had
greatly contributed to the elevation of Knfantin, now deter-
mined, in the exercise of his functions as ru/cr of the worship —
that is to say, as director of traffic and industry — to raise a loan
without payment of any interest (fond d'amortissement) — a thing
which the family held in detestation. As a security, all the
adherents of Knfantin placed at his disposal an authority to sell
their property, and on the 1st January 1882 a large quantity of
bonds were thrown upon the market. This scheme was unsuc-
cessful, as no more than 82,400 francs were obtained, and its
failure proved fatal to the new establishment. The police was
then almost powerless against the republican part}', who had
contributed so nmch to tlie Three Days of July, and had not
dared as yet to interfere with the Saint-Simonians, although the
alarm they excited was considerable; they had waited till public
feeling should change towards them, and now took instant ad-
vantage of the ill-success of their money project. On the 22d
January 1832, the faniift/ were disperse d by an armed force ;
seals were applied to their papers ; and the Supreme Father and
Olinde Rodriguez were suimnoned before the tribunals as guilty
— 1st. (and this was their great crime in the eyes of governujent)
of having organized associations among the workmen ; 2ndly, of
seizing upon inheriiances : and Srdly, of defrauding the public
by raising a loan, of which they could neither replace the capital
nor pay tne interest. I'he prosecutions were however abandomnl,
and the family might have subsisted sonie lime longer, had n '

168 "Saint- Simonvim. [Jan.

quarrels arisen between the Supreme Father and Olinde Rodri-
guez. The future rights of women were the cause, or the pre-
text of this new revohition. Enfantin had gone still greater
lengths than at the meeting of the I'Jth November, and had
defined in so frightful a manner the functions of the priest-couple
— he had so publicly declared it to be their duty to be beau-
tiful, and their right to live in the most unbridled license — that
Olinde Rodriguez drew back, perhaps from shame, and perhaps,
too, to free himself from pecuniary liability. Enraged at the
opposition he met with, Enfantin degraded Rodriguez, who, on
his part, endeavoured to give a new form to Saint-Simonism,
and succeeded only in depriving his antagonist of the support of
a few influential men. We are wrong ; he went farther, and claimed
as his property all the works of Saint-Simon. Bazar followed
his example, and claimed to be the owner of the Explanatory
Stnterneni of the Neto Doctrine: this was a heavy blow ; for
the sale of these books was thus stopped : — but a heavier still
was dealt them by the government, who recommenced the pro-
secution they had laid aside ; this was exactly at the time when
the cholera broke out, in 1832. The Saint-Simonians proposed
in their newspaper, Le Globe, that immense public works should
be undertaken as a remedy, to be carried on to the sound of
instruments, and presided over by the loveliest women. One
might have supposed that they were given up to madness, and
this whilst the Catholic priests, and the Sisters of Charity, who
had no faith in the re-installation of the flesh, gave their time
and their lives to the service of the sick. Enfantin, meanwhile,
completed the ruin of the finances of the family by his balls
and dinners, and was at length obliged to give up the publica-
tion of the Globe, and to leave Paris. Under pretext of pre-
paring himself for a new mission, he withdrew to Menil
Montant, a village near the capital, where he took up his
residence in a house which belonged to him, along with such
apostles as remained faithful to him, and who had devoted them-
selves to pay him, in every sense of the word, an idolatrous
worship. But before retiring to his " holy mountain," he pub-
lished the following proclamation, in the last number that ap-
peared of the Globe, on the 22d April 1832, which was Good
Friday : —

" God has appointed nie a mission to summon the proletaires and
liberated woman to a new destiny, — to bring back into the human
family such as have hitherto been excluded from it, or only treated
like aliens in it, — to realize the universal association which, since the
bpfjinnint; of tlie world, has been CiiUed for by the cries of all slaves,
— whether women or men proletaires. One phase of my existence is

1888.] Saint-HiMonhm. 169

accompliiilied to liay. I have upoken ; I will act ; but I recjuire a time
of reposi* and of silence. A numerous family surrounds me; the
apoftleship is founded. 1 take forty of my sons with me : I confide to
my other children the care of continuing our work in the world, and
I retire. The day on which I speak has been a great day in the
worhl during eighteen centuries. On this day died the divine liberator
of slaves. Let us sanctify the anniversary by the commencement of
our holy retreat ; and from amidst us let the last trace of servitude —
domesticity — be expelled."

In tliesame number, P6re Barrau, the most eloquent of tlieir
preachers, expressed himself, or rather blasphemed, as follows :

" Enfantin is the Messiah of God — M/* king of the nations — where
his sons now exalt him, as the world shall one day do. The world sees
its Christ, and knows him not. And therefore he withdraws himself
with his apostles Irom anion}; you. Our teord is in the midst of you ;
you will incarnate it in yourselves. Tiie world is ours. A man shall
arise, having the brow of a king, and the entrails of the people, be-
cause he has the heart of a priest, — and this man is our Father."

We shall not follow the fmnily into its new Imbitation, where
all laboured in common ; and young pupils of the Polytechnic
Schools, distinguished military men, and the sons of bankers of
enormous wealth, cleaned boots, and filliHl all the offices of
servants; while other Saint-Simonians, no less distinguished by
tlieir social rank, joined the workmen u|X)n the roads, and broke
stones witli them. A considerable crowd came from the capital
to visit these new iiermits, as soon as their forty days were
expired, which were a detestable parody upon the retreat of our
Lord. Hut the government had now vanquished the republican
insurrection which took place in June, and was no longer dis-
jMjsed to spare the Saint-Simonians. On the 1st July, the gates
of the gardens of Menil Montant were closed by the gensdarmes
against all curious visitors; and on the 27th of the following
August, the Supreme Father, Rodriguez, and several others, were
put upon their trial before the Court of Assizes at Paris. No-
thing could exceed the ridicule of Enfantin's behaviour during
this process. He had brought two women as his counsel, but
the court would not allow them to speak. He forbade his
disciules, who were called on as witnesses, to take the oaths
required by law, and he himself pronounced a discourse which
convulsetl with laughter all his audience. " I wish," he said,
" to show the Attorney- General the influence of beauty — of the
senses — of the flesh ; — and for that purpose I will make him feel
the influence of a look ; for I believe that I shall reveal all my
tlioii<;lits ujwii my countenance." And thereupon he looked
steadily for a long time at the judges, the lawyers, and the s|)ec-

170 Sa in t Simon ism . [Jan.

tators, supposing that he vas to fascinate the piibHc as he had
managed to fascinate some young enthusiasts. Michel Chevalier,
however, Duverrier, and mrrau, had retained all the power
of their talent, and they eloquently defended the cause of reli-
gious liberty. It was a singular thing, that their defence was
chiefly a defence of Christianity, — that is to say, of Catholicism ;
for we have already explained that they are identical in the
minds of all Frenchmen. Accordingly, Michel Chevalier,
pointing to the green cloth which, since 1830, had concealed the
figure of Christ, that, by Napoleon's orders, had been placed
above the bench, addressed the jury as follows : —

" Catholicism I Gentlemen, there is here a symbol of its actual
power. Modern Catholicism is the picture you have before your eyes,
it is veiled — and, singular circumstance I those who, by concealing it,
abjured their religion without embracing a new one, are the same who
now set themselves up as arbiters of conscience, and venture to affirm
that we are not a religion ; but fifteen centuries have elapsed, during
which, Christianity, for the hay)piness of the world, was not veiled, nor
yet banished from public policy. When hordes of barbarians, eager for
conquest, and crowding upon each other, came dragging themselves
from the steppes of Asia, from the Oural, and from tl»e Altai, to the
Rhine, and inundated all Europe to the south and west, who met them
half way and civilized them ? Christianity. Who mediated successfully
between the conquered people, and their brutal conquerors, Goths,
Vandals, Suevi, Alani, Burgundians, Saxons, Franks, Heruli, and Huns?
the Catholic bishops and clergy. Who was the man before whom Attila
stood still, filled with respect — Attila the scourge of God ? It was a
Christian Pope, it was Saint I..eo ! If Christianity had not mixed
itself with politics ; if the bishops had taken no part in temporal affairs,
there would have been no chance for civilization. — Mankind must have
retrograded to the times of Nimrod. Above all, the origin and history
of the French monarchy may be comprised in the words of a learned
English historian ; ' the kingdom of France is a kingdom made by
bishops.' "

The court condemned Enfantin, Michel Chevalier, and Du-
verrier, to a year's imprisonment each, and to a fine of one
hundred francs, as guilty of outraging public morals, and as
having formed part of an association of more than twenty per-
sons. They were acquitted as to the charge of obtaining money
on false pretences, and it would be unjust not to admit that they
deserved this part of the verdict. By the help of voluntary gifts,
they had honourably fulfilled their engagements, and discharged
the financial liabilities of Olinde Rodri«ruez. 'iheftnnih/ was now
thrown into complete anarchy, by the nnprisonment of Enfantin.
Barrau, the macldest amongst them, despairing to find the free
woman, the female Messiah, in Europe, set off' for Constantino-

\

18S8.] Saint-Simutiiiim. ' 171

pie, aunounciiig to the public, tiiat he should find in the harams
of the East, that pearl whom the Father had vainly sought in the
streets of Paris. Several of his fellow disciples accompanied
him, and others embarked at the same time, and in the same
ho|)e, for Alexandria. The family was falling to pieces on all
sides, and we shall not follow it to its final dissolution. Knfantin
accepted his dischar«^e after seven months' imprisonment, and
went to Egypt, from whence he is recently returned, and languishes
in deserved obscurity. As for his disciples, at last undeceive<l,
many became Mahometans ; and now serve in the armies of
Mohamed Ali, or amongst his civil engineers. M M. Stephane,
Flachat, and Pereire, are the directors of the rail-road to St.
Germain ; M. Michel Chevalier, who was sent by the French
government to the United States, publishe<l, on l»is return, a
very intert*sting work upon that country, and is pointed out by
public opinion as a future candidate for the high office of
Minister of Public Works. A great many others had resumed
the professions they had abandone<l — as the bar, the army, or
manufactories : nor must we, in this brief account of the present
character of those deluded young men, forget to notice the im-
{x>rtant fact of the numbers converted to Christianity. We say
converted, for in France, whole families lived and were brought
up under the influence of the anti-Catholic prejudices of the
eighteenth century. To the young people of these families,
Catholicism was represented from their childhood as one im-
mense lie, and upon the word of their parents and their teachers,
they remained so firmly convinced of this, that all enquiry, or
discussion, seemed to them useless; they were, therefore, like
many English Protestants, in a state of invincible ignorance;
yt , many of them hungered and thirsted after truth ; it was in
their search for her, that they had fallen into the errors of Saint-
Simonism. From their new miistei-s, they learnt to feel a pro-
found contempt for the opinions of Voltaire and his school ; to
admire, at least in the past, the wisdom and the wonderfid civil-
izing |)ower of the Church of Home; they were taught also,
that I^rotestantism, and unbelief, imdcr all its forms — were valuable
only in preparing the way for a new doctrine, but could, of them-
selves, accomplish nothing for the material welfare of the human
race ; and they were made so clearly to perceive the anti -social
character of both the o»ie and the other, as well as the necessity
for an absolute and infallible spiritual authority, that doubts were
naturally excited in the minds of those young enthusiasts ; and
they began to ask themselves, if, indee<l, Catholicism hitherto so
useful, to mankind, were really false. 'i'hen came the wild
absurdities of Enfantin, all, however, logically deduced from the

172 • Sa'mt-Sbnon'mn. [Jan.

law of the illimitable pro<5ress of our species ; and their con-
sciences, unsoiled by vice, revolted from such abominations,
'i'hus prepared, they could hardly fail to discover the truth, in a
country, where reason has no choice, if we may so express it,
but between Catholicism and infidelity. Accordingly, conver-
sions were very numerous. Bazar, himself, who died the 29th
July 1832, had burned all his manuscripts, not wiahing^ he said,
to leave behind him arms for the dofence of Pantheiam, His
wife and daughters, happier than himself, are now exemplary
Catholics ; the youngest had married, after the Saint-Simonian
fashion, M. de Saint Cheron, a young man full of talent, and
the adopted son of Bazar ; this union, as yet unhallowed, has
since been ratified by the Church, and the archbishop of Paris
himself officiated in this touching ceremony — the more highly to
lionour the return to truth of two persons so distinguished, the
one for his noble character, the other for all ilie virtues of her
sex. M M. Margerin, Paul Rochette, Dugied, Rousseau, and
many others, have either preceded or followed this example.
The errors of Saint-Simonism had prepared them for the recep-
tion of evangelic truth, and the Church may now present them
with equal pride and confidence to her friends or to her enemies.
We shall here conclude the history of this memorable attempt to
meliorate the condition of the working classes, by the assistance
of scientific principles, without the light of revelation, by the crea-
tion of a new society and a new morality. These bold Innovators
had at least the merit of understanding and practically demon-
strating, the necessity for a spiritual authority, which should be
absolute, and must, therefore, be infallible. A necessity so impera-
tive in their opinion, that it constituted the only ground for the
imlimited power they allowed to Father Enfantin.

As for their fundamental doctrines, namely the substitution of
a system of partnership for that of wages given to the workmen,
the abolition of all inheritance, and the enfranchisement of women,
few words will suffice for them ; for, setting aside all religious
truth, the realization of their projects would have done infinite
mischief to those of whom tltey considered themselves the only
friends. Our readers will remember the shepherd boy, whose
defence was so valorously undertaken by the hero of La Mancha,
and who gained nothing by the protection of the knight of the
doleful countenance, but an increased severity on the part of his
master. Weshall see that the Saint-Simonians, who believed them-
selves the benefactors of humanity, were in fact only its Don
Quixotes. If we analyse the nature of wages, we easily arrive
at the conclusion, that they imply a partnership between the
master and the workmen, who, bringing their labour into the com-

[

18S8.J SalHt-Simoniitm. 178

mon stock, have a ri^ht to a share in the produce. The master
buys this share, and pays the price in wages, which represent to
each labourer his dividend in the conuiion profit, after deduction
has been made tor security against risk, and for interest ; for these
belong in justice to the master, since the risk is all at his charge,
and lie advances to the worknian money which he himself
will only recover after a distant sale, and perhaps long credit.
As to that {Mirt which falls to the share of each person employed
by the master, it is subject to all the vicissitudes occasioned by
fluctuation in the demand or supply of labour, and we do not see
how the copartnership system would have the effect of increasing
it. In some parts of the continent this system now prevails in
the cultivation of the earth ; the farmers, under the name of
metayersy keep for their share the half of the produce of the land ;
since, however, {)opulation has increase<l, the metrnjer gives the
landlord nearly two-thirds; the same cause would produce the
same consequences everywhere, because the supply of masters
possessed ofthe immense capital required by modern machinery
has not and cannot increase as rapidly as the supply of labour.
In the copartnership system the workman's share would equally
have become less, and as he could not have received it until after
the sale of his work, he would have been obliged to dispose of
it to an usurer, in order to live in the meanwhile. Would the
purchaser estimate his risks and his interest at a less high rate
than die master? Clearly not; and however low wages may be,
they must always be more advantageous, so far as the lower orders
are concerned, than the co-partnership system. Nor would their
situation be improved by the introduction of Mr. Owen's plan.
A co-operative society must borrow money until it has accumulated
a capital, and, on such security as it can offer, interest will always
be very high. Moreover, all the partners are not entitled to, and
many would not be satisfied wiih, an equal division of the profits.
These must be apportioned according to the skill, assiduity, and
duties of each member. The directors will claim more than the
common mechanics, and ultimately they must receive in full what
is now the master's right. The only difference being that no
trust is ^iven by the operative to the master manufacturer who
pays their wages weekly, while they would not only have to trust
their directors, but also to get that trust discounted, in order to
meet their daily wants. As to the mutual assistance given or
received at a harmnnij society, it implies a previous accumulation
of capital, (which under any other circumstances might be as
charitably employed), and an endurance of good-fellowship which
is hardly in the nature of man. Our principal objection to Mr.
Owen's plan is, that he ends where he ought to begin ; for his

174 Siiint-Shnonltm. [Jan.

scheme, intended to turn men into angels, can be carried into
eflPect by angels only, and those not fallen ones.

The abolition of hereditary rights must have been followed bv
consequences still more disastrous. Not to say that all the activity
which is called forth in man by the necessity of providing for his
children, and the hope of leaving them independent fortunes,
would be forthwith paralysed ; — not to say that agriculture, with
its slow return of capital, would be entirely neglected ; for the
father of a family would be little disposed to bury in the earth,
for the benefit of strangers, money which he might in many ways
bestow upon his children, in spite of every law that could be
framed ; — we will ask, who would those men be who would be
entrusted with the charge of collecting the property left by in-
heritance, in order to divide it afterwards amongst the most
deserving ? The priests of the new law, the Saint-Simonians
would say. The priests would then be the arbitrators of every
man's fortune ; and, in fact, both masters and workmen would
labour for //<e/r profit, for no one could compel them to admit that
the worthiest were not included in their own ranks, or at least
amongst their friends. Even Catholic priests, who are unmarried,
and restricted by the canons from engaging in commercial or
manufacturing speculations, would hardly bear up against such
temptations ; but the Saint-Simonian clergy — married men,
agriculturists, merchants, or manufacturers, — men who, more-
over, avowed it to be a point of conscience to indulge in the most
costly pleasures, could certainly not withstand it. By degrees
they would become a caste dividing amongst themselves all the
wealth of the community, and leaving the other classes of society
in frightful poverty. It was to avoid this snare and these objec-
tions that Enfantin invented his theory concerning woman. The
degree of liberty allowed to the female sex has always been a
criterion of the civilization of a people. The more women have
been kept in subservience, the greater has been the degradation
of the other sex ; and the rapid progress of Christian society
arises greatly from the prerogatives with which it has invested
woman, and which were unknown before the promulgation of
the Gospel. Women are now declared equal with men in the
sight of God ; they have obtained the abolition of polygamy and
divorce ; in a word, the basis of a family in ancient times has
been entirely changed. But how has this wonderful transforma-
tion been effected? Had a philosopher undertaken to work such
a miracle, he would no doubt have reasoned as follows : " Woman
charms the senses of her husband ; her principal strength is here ;
this strength must therefore be increased, by adding to her beauty
all those talents which can heighten its effect. I^t her always

1888.] Siiint-ShHonitm. 175

bean Aspasia, and instead of he\n<r a slave, she will be surrounded
with worshippers. Cliristianity pursued a different method ; it
spoke aloud and austerely to the woman. If it tauj^ht her that
slie hail a soul to save as precious in the eyes of God as that of
her husband, it tau«;ht her also that the condition of her eternal
salvation was the fulfilment of her duties; and it placed amongst
Ae chief of those duties, not the constrained chastity of the
Athenian matron, enclosed in the j^yneceum, but that austere and
true chastity, which jjcnetrates the most secret recesses of the
conscience, exj>ellin«r thence the least desire, the li<;htest thought,
that sins against the sanctity of the nuptial tie. And it does not
demand this purity from the woman in the name of her husband,
but in the name of her Creator, whose eye pierces all hearts,
from whom nothing escapes, and whose displeasure is excited by
whatever violates the laws of the most rigorous modesty. What
a security is this for the husband ! what a ground of assurance
for the father, who is more mistrustful still ; for it was the father,
rather than the husband, who had recourse to the enclosure of
the haram, and the other insulting precautions of the East : and
to him Christianity has given the most powerful guarantee, by
throwing over the head of his daughter a veil of holy and volun-
tary purity. Once j)ossessed of this virtue, woman becomes her
own guardian. Man, whether husband or ftither, confides in
her, and respects her on that account; and respect blends with
the love he bears to her an imperishable affection, that habit
cannot weaken, nor even the wrinkles of old age destroy. They
are two in one flesh, and whilst, elsewhere, woman is but the
property of her husband ; amongst Christians she is a part of his
oeing — she is himself: and this idea of marriage, which the
Catholic church alone has received in its full extent, implies not
only monogamy, but the absolute indissolubility of the conjugal
union. But Christianity, when it raisetl the female so high in
the eyes of God and man, did not contemplate destroying the
hierarchy of the family ; on the contrary, it has been preserved
without derogating from the essential equality of the two sexes.
For this pur|)ose, religion has regulated their respective duties,
keeping in view both the physical difference of their organization,
and the modesty which alone can enable the weaker to acquire
and keep an influence over the stronger. Christianity has, there-
fore, given to woman the authority over the domestic hearth,
while to man it has assigne<l the care of guiding the family ; the
duty of maintaining and protecting it, and the burden of its ex-
ternal affairs. By this litie, and in virtue of these especial func-
tions, man presides and governs; but in a truly Christian union,
conjugal love gives its commands to conjugal love, which cheer-

176 Saint Shnnnixm. [Jan.

fully obeys them ; and the will of the wife is so freely intertwined
in that of the husband, that they cannot be distinguished.

Tlie liberty of the Christian woman did not satisfy the Saint^
Simonians ; they were unwilling that the duty of obedience should
be imposed on her; and would not understand that by proclaim-
ing the two sexes equal in all respects, they rendered certain the
subjugation of the woman. For if in marriage no one has the
right to command, who shall give way, the husband or the wife?
when those differences of opinion arise between them, which
must be incalculably multiplied, if there is to be no distinction
in their duties or in iheir attributes : they would have to decide
in connnon upon the affairs of the state, as well as u|X)n those of
the kitchen ; the moral right, being equal on both sides, the only
superiority which the new law had not done away with — the supe-
riority of brute strength — must be appealed to in every difference;
and the woman, overpowered by this, must yield to fear, instead
of, as now, freely submitting to her duty, when she obeys her
husband in obedience to her God. She would have, it is true,
the alternative of divorce — that polygamy, by way of succession,
which the reformation has revived. But could maternal tender-
ness dispense with a protector for her children ? and where will
she find one when their own father will have rejected them with
a kind of satisfaction, because, chastity bein<; no more a virtue,
he can no longer confide ; he has never confided in their mother.
And who would contract a union, unavoidably of uncertain dura-
tion, with the mother of another man's children, and be obliged
to maintain those children ? Or what could such a union be for
the woman but an exchange of slavery ? For these reasons the
privilege of divorce would be a useless one, at least to the woman :
the man alone would profit by it, to free himself from the bur-
den of an uncertain paternity ; and, certainly, even setting aside
the disgust inspired by these odious theories, — we are not sur-
prised at the universal horror manifested by the women of
France and Belgium for their pretended liberators. They felt
instuictively that the liberty thus offered them would become the
most insupportable of servitudes. However, Saint-Simonism
might have had a longer career, had not the government tri-
umphed over the republicans: for the young men of this party
had a strong tendency to the new religion ; and under another
National Convention, its professors would have obtained not only
toleration, but a marked protection; they might indeed have
been obliged to modify their opinions, and to adopt a character
more warlike than commercial ; and in this respect it is evident
that the gradual consolidation of Louis Philippe's throne had so
early as the middle of 1831 produced a great change in the

1888.] Sahf-SimonUm. 177

direction of Saint-Simonism. At every division amongst the
chiefs, it was always those who were most inclined to violent
methods who withdrew, and Enfantin always represented such as
believed in the power of a jjacific action : who had faith in conver-
sions to be maae by sympathy and by the power of a look, and
who laid it down as a prniciple that they were the most loveable
of mortals, and that they had only to show tliemselves in order
to captivate mankind, and subjugate their reason by the double
seduction of their theories and their persons. And ridiculous as
these notions may appear, they have a redeeming point, in their
horror of bloodshed; so that the disciples of Entantin deserve to
be considered as the Quakers of Pantheism.

On the otlier hand, logic and energy of character were on tlie
side of the seceders. By the help of the principle of the aboli-
tion of inheritance, and that of universal association, they ex-
pected to excite the passions of the poor and of the workmen,
rhey had in their hands a lever which, always powerful, was then
so much the more so, as the revolution of July had shaken society
to its foundations, and thus given immense political ascendancy
to the lower orders. The following fact will give some idea of
the madness which possessed a large portion of the populace.
After the last disturbances at Lyons, the prisoners, who were
taken to Paris to be tried by the Chamber of Peers, were less
occupied with the defence of their own cause than with the
nature of the social organization they were to give to their coun-
try at a later period. We were told by one of their counsel,
that, at a visit which he paid to some of them, he found them
extremely agitated by the discovery of a new method of securing
the permanent triumph of equality amongst men. And the
discoverer explained it to him with a transport that was really
painful, as showing to what a degree the brain of these poor peo-
ple had been touched; his method consisted in obliging, by
an article in the new constitution, all tall men to marry little
women, and short men, on the other hand, to choose tall wives.
Thus, said the poor fellow, all inequality of height will gradually
cease to exist, and no citizen will be allowed to be greater than
another in body any more than in mind.

Tliere can be no doubt that all Louis Philippe's efforts have
been directed to neutralize the democratic tendency of the revolu-
tion of July, in which he has shewn great skill ; but at the same
time he has been powerfully supjwrted by the alarm which the
avowed proiects of the republican party have excited in the middle
classes. These have forgotten their ancient dislike for hereditary
distinctions; they have rallied around the new throne, and now
constitute the principal strength of the French ConseiTative

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. N

178 Saint-Simonism. [Jan.

party — because, in that country, tlie destructives have declared
war against the holders of all property) against the shopkeeper
as well as the banker, against all proprietors in short, whether
noble or plebeian : but the French Conservatives have no bond
of union except the fear of disorder ; and the society which is
held together only by this feeling, is exposed to continual daneer,
and seldom fails in the end to be deprived of its liberties. It is
owing to this fear that our neighbours applauded the flagrant
violation of liberty of conscience in the case of the Saint-Simo-
nians — that they have allowed the press to be fettered by the
summary trial and exorbitant punishment of the offenders — that
they have ceded to the executive government a complete con-
trol over the education of youth — and that they leave at its
mercy all religious belief — permitting it to forbid, by royal
proclamation, the preaching of any, whose existence is not at
present recognized by law. In met, the French have never
understood the meaning of liberty — they have always confounded
it with equality of citizens amongst themselves ; and so long as
Louis Philippe oppresses them all alike, they will believe them-
selves free. It would be vain to explain to them, that the letter
of the law may be the same for all, while its spirit, and its prac-
tical effects, may press with tyrannical severity upon a part of
the population. To this, conservatives and destructives are alike
indifferent, provided that theirs may be the party who oppress.
On all sides, there is the same ignorance of the nature ot true
liberty, or, if here and there are a few men of more enlightened
ideas, they are rari n antes in gurgite va^to.

What now are the traces left by Saint-Simonism ? their doc-
trines upon the nature of property have been gradually diffused
amongst the workmen, and have singularly weakened their
ancient respect for the rights of proprietors: as a counter-
balancing circumstance, we must repeat what we have already
said of the religious reaction that has been created by the inno-
vators of 1830. On the one hand, those violent prejudices have
given way, which were so long entertained against the manner
m which the Catholic religion exercised its influence upon the
past. On the other, the conservative party now perceive, that
the property about which they are so anxious, cannot long re-
main in safety — unless it finds, in the consciences of the people,
a support which religion alone can maintain there; they are
aware also, that the Catholic religion is the only one possible in
France ; and the most impious amongst them are thus placed in
a painful dilemma, betwixt the desire to transmit their wealth in

{jeace to their children, and the horror they entertain for the
awful influence of the clergy. Were it possible to re-establish

18S8.] Saint-Slmontsm. 179

the Catholic religion, without restoring to the Catholic priest*
hood the moral ascendancy which would be the inevitable result
of a general conversion, they would, perhaps, be the first to
frequent the churches. And this will explain to any one who
stuaies the actual state of France, the singular conduct of its
government ; it heaps favours upon the clergy, points out to the
Sovereign Pontiff tne most virtuous amongst them, to be made
bishops, and, at the same time, watches them with jealous suspi-
cion, and tolerates in the local authorities a system of odious
vexations against them. And this, because it would have a
clergy who would bring back the nation to ideas of order and
religious morality, for tne purpose of consolidating and securing
the rights of property, — but which, at the same time, should re-
main always dependant upon the government, and without other
authority m society than what it shall think fit to grant.

L

Art. VII.— 1. The Frenchin Africa. 8vo. pp. 50. Ridgway, 1888.

2. Correspondence with His Majesty's Ambassador at Paris^ and
Communications from the French Ambassador in London,
relative to the French expedition against Algiers. Ordered
by the House of Lords to be printeti, 10th May 1833.

IT is our earnest hope and prayer, that the peace which has
now happily subsisted between England and the great powers
of tlie two hemispheres for nearly a quarter of a century, may
remain undisturbed for ages yet to come. Indeed, expe-
rience, we are sanguine enough to believe, has convinced the
most civilized states, that scarcely any differences can henceforth
arise amongst them, which may not be arranged much more
effectually by mutual explanations, given and received in the
spirit of forbearance, than by an appeal to arms. The age of
** Trial by battle" has, we trust, altogether past away, — at least
from amongst those communities, whose fleets and armies cannot
be committed in conflict, without involving the danger of a
general war.

Lord Durham's late mission to St. Petersburg!), has, it is be-
lieved, been entirely successful in putting into a train of amicable
settlement the questions that had arisen between this country
and Russia, partly out of the Treaty of Adrianople, partly out
of the separate article appended to the Convention of Unkiar
Skelessi. Tliat convention will expire in the course of two or

n2

180 The French in Africa. [Jan.

three years, and probably will not be renewed. Silistria, of
which the Czar might still have retained possession under the
arrangements of Adrianople, has been restored to the Sultan.
Turkey is, and will continue to be, an independent power.
There is a coterie of politicians, belonging to the tete exaltie
academy, who are endeavouring to persuade the public to the
contrary, and who seem incapable of taking rest until they behold
Great Britain at open war with the northern empire. But they
have little chance of seeing their visions accomplished. The
commercial interests of the two countries have become so essential
to their respective welfare, that neither is likely to be induced to
sacrifice those interests, even for a season, on light grounds

Our vast and increasing trade with the United States, binds
that republic also in heavy penalties of peace towards England.
The President has solemnly declared neutrality with reference
to the Canadas. The difficulties of the north-eastern boundary,
which arose out of the vague language of the original treaty —
language proved by repeated investigations to be practically
inapplicable to the territory forming its subject-matter — are likely
to be speedily terminated, a conventional interpretation having
been suggested, which can hardly fail to meet with the concur-
rence of both parties.

Austria has already been, or soon will be, linked in peculiarly
amicable relations with us by a new commercial treaty. Against
France — the only remaining power of the first magnitude —
England has undoubtedly more than one complaint to make,
especially as to the course of her proceedings in Africa. Never-
theless, it may be presumed that the influence of temperate
reasoning, — or, if need be, of remonstrance, couched in terms not
to be misunderstood, — may eventually preclude the occurrence of
any events calculated to affect the alliance at present subsisting
between the two nations.

The French have never been successful in colonizing, and
yet there are no people more ambitious of possessing foreign
settlements. Whatever they have hitherto attempted in this
way, has ultimately terminated to our advantage. In war we
have wrested from them colony after colony, which they have
not been able to reconquer ; and if we were to look forward
calmly to the interests of^ a selfish policy, we would contemplate
their efforts to establish their power at Algiers, as so many steps,
more likely to involve them in a vast useless expenditure, and
in national embarrassment, than to any improvement in their
position as a maritime power. The possession of Gibraltar,
Malta, and Corfu, will always enable us to keep up a powerful
fleet in the Mediterranean. If occasion required, it would not

1888.] The FVench in Africa, 181

perhaps be impracticable for us to cut off all comraunication
oetween France and the Barbary coast, and moreover, to add
Algiers itself to our strongholds in that sea. But these are
questions which we do not desire to discuss. If we had had any
ambition to disturb the long-established relations of the Medi-
terranean states, we had the opportunity of anticipating France
in the policy with which she is now inspired, when Lord Ex-
mouth's expedition was projected. But although we are per-
suaded that Algiers cannot be long retained by France, and
that, even if it be, it can only tend to encumber her energies
as a continental and military power — her only natural source of
influence, — nevertheless, it may become necessary to check pro-
ceedings which, though eventually destined to failure, might, in
the meantime, operate with an injurious pressure, not only upon
our commercial interests, but also upon the commercial and
political interests of odier countries, with which we are intimately
connected.

Thus, when during the revolutionary war, the French Re-
public attempted to obtain possession of Egypt, although it was
soon made evident that no force which she could afford to
send to that part of Africa, would be sufficient to establish
her dominion there; nevertheless we found it expedient to
take measures for frustrating her designs. We tfo not ap-
prehend that similar proceedings are likely to be called for
with reference to Algiers. But we cannot, at the same time,
shut our eyes to the fact, that it has long been a cabinet project
at the Tuileries to obtain a strong and permanent footing in
Africa — to establish, in truth, a sort of Indian empire there,
which should embrace all the inland territory and the coasts of
that continent, extending from the Gulph of Guinea to the
Mediterranean.

Let us hear how this matter was treated, some years ago, by
an agent specially appointed to proceed to Africa, and to make
researches there, with a view to the accomplishment of this
object. The gentleman entrusted with this mission was M.
Xavier Golberry, a very intelligent engineer officer in the ser-
vice of France. He accompanied M. de BoufHers, who was
named governor of Senegal, to St. Louis, the chief seat of that
government, in the year 1785. His instructions were to act as first
aide-du-camp to M.deBoufflcrs — to perform the functions of chief
engineer of the whole of that government — to reconnoitre its western
coast — and to report upon every circumstance calculated to ascer-
tain the greatest advantages possible to be derived from the posses-
sionof the Senegal, which haaalreadyacquiredfor France consider-
able authority over a large portion of western Africa. Indeed, he

182 The French in Africa. {Jan.

goes so far as to designate, under the title of " French Africa,"
a tract of territory extending along the coast from Cape Blanco
to the mouth of the Senegal, including, in the interior of the
country, a great portion of the desert of Sahara, the whole
course of the Senegal as far as it is navigable eastward, and
several alleged dependencies to the south of that river, almost
to the verge of the British possessions on the Gambia. Over
the whole of this territory, he affirms, the jurisdiction of the
Senegal government, or, in other words, of the government of
*' French Africa," actually extended in the year 1787.

M. Golberry's office was to report, from his own observation
and inquiries, how much farther than the boundaries here stated,
the jurisdiction, that is to say, the political supremacy, of France,
could be established in western and central Africa. The idea
of colonization, he says, was altogether out of the question.
The great object was to obtain influence, to extend and
protect commercial intercourse, and to secure to France the
glory of revealing to Europe the mysteries of the interior of
Africa, which, previously to that period, had been altogether
unexplored. He claims for France a priority of right to all
that part of the African continent, by reason of the conquests
which the Normans made in the fourteenth century, between
Cape Blanco, on the western coast, and Cape Palmas, on the
coast of Guinea.

After going into a variety of details, which it is unnecessary
here to specify, M. Golberry declares it to be his opinion — an
opinion which does not appear to have been fully matured until
after the discoveries of Mungo Park were made known to the
world — that it would not be difficult for France, taking the
Island of St. Louis in the mouth of the Senegal as the centre of
her operations, and the seat of her African power, to spread her
political authority over a tract of that continent, extending from
the coast of Guinea in the south, to the fortieth degree of north
latitude ; and from the Atlantic coast to the thirtieth degree of
longitude east of the Island of Ferro ; that is to say, about a
third of the whole superficies of that continent, very much ex-
ceeding the number of square leagues contained in Germany,
France, Spain, and Portugal, united.

This new " French Africa" would embrace the whole course
of the Niger, as described by Park, Clapperton, and the
Landers ; of the Senegal ; of part of the Gambia ; a very con-
siderable portion of Nubia, Ethiopia, and Egypt, the whole of
Tripoli, the greater part of the regencies of Tunis and Algiers,
and, in fact, the whole of central and western Africa, a country
abounding in ivory, in gold mines, and forests which produce

1888.] The French in Africa. 183

the best gum in the world — a country capable, according to ail
tliat we have learned of it from our own enterprising travellers,
of producing the sugar-cane, cotton, coffee, cocoa, indigo,
tobacco, rice, and spices and timber of every description. M.
Golberry, after setting forth the outlines of his project, proceeds
in a very methodical manner to lay down a plan for the organiz-
ation of a government, which should control this new empire
through all its parts.*

Now, we do not go so far as to charge the present government
of France with entertaining the extravagant project sketched
out by M. Golberry. We conceive, however, that the late pro-
ceedings at Algiers, the extension of their conquests as far as
Constantine, and the interference with British rights on the
western coast by the French authorities of Senegal, to which
we shall have occasion by and by to allude, are matters that
reouire the vigilant attention of the cabinet, and legislature,
ana people of this country. There has been a singular degree
of predominance, or rather, to give it its right name, of usurpa-
tion, attempted to be carried into effect by the Senegal govern-
ment since the surrender of Algiers, upon which they never
ventured before ; and we can only say, that if it be subnutted to
by England, no schemes of aggrandizement can be imagined
too gigantic for France to accomplish hereafter in western and
central Africa,

Besides the old Norman conquests on the Western and
Quinea coast claimed by France, it would seem that there are
also two establishments on the Mediterranean coast of Africa,
those of La Calle and Bastion de France, the possession of which
she alleges to have been vested in her for above a century, and to
be necessary for the protection of her fisheries in tliat direction.
How those small ports became French we have no means of
ascertaining. But it is remarkable that they were at first put
forward by the prince Polignac, when he was at the head of the
government in France, as a species of property which under no
circumstances could be abandoned. 1 he introduction of these
ports into the discussions upon the subject of Algiers, indicates at
once the settled system of policy whicli has taught the French to
look towards Africa with a longing desire of conquest ; and to
cover their first operations in the North with a species of legiti-
macy, which would give them an advantage in point of argument,
however inconsiderable that advantage might be.

• See Golberry' t Travels in Ajriea, translated by Mudford.and published in 2 vols.
ISmo. by Jones of Paternoster Row, 1803. The first chapter discloses the whole of
these plans.

184 The French in Africa. [Jan.

It was at first pretended, nevertheless, that when those opera-
tions were commenced, nothing could be farther from the
contemplation of the French than acquisition of territory in that
part of Africa. An affront had been offered to their consul at
Algiers, for which the Dey refused reparation. Their national
honour required that this indignity should be amply avenged, and
it was given out that as soon as a proper apology should be
received from the Dey, the expedition would return to Toulon.
No army was to be sent out. If any operations by land should
eventually appear to be necessary, the viceroy of Egjrpt was to
be invited to lend his assistance for that purpose. The sovereignty
of the Ottoman Porte over the regency of Algiers having been
thus indirectly recognized, the next step was for the Porte itself
to interfere in the dispute, by agreeing to dispatch an agent to
prevail on the Dey to yield the reparation demanded of him.

It is possible that the views of the French government, in the
first instance, did not extend beyond those which it then professed
to entertain. If so, they were, however, very speedily enlarged.
Discussion led to a very general opinion, that the time had
arrived when the existence of a piratical power, such as the
Algerine regency then undoubtedly was, ought no longer to be
tolerated. The interests of Christendom required that it should
be effectually put down. It became apparent, moreover, that the
moral authority of the monarchy in France was every day
becoming more feeble. It was undermined by conspiracy. It
was libelled with impunity and with great ability by the press.
It was resisted in the second chamber of the legislature by a
powerful, well organized, and constantly increasing opposition.
A diversion of the public mind from domestic politics to foreign
war, might, at such a season, be particularly useful. The French
people, always aspiring to military renown, and still full of the
recollections of Napoleon's brilliant though transitory conquests,
might be successfully courted through the hopes of a new enter-
prise. A similar experiment had been lately made in Spain ;
and though the results were equivocal, still the chance of glory
which Algiers held out, was not to be declined. These farther
motives of action, if not originally thought of, were undoubtedly
embraced afterwards without much hesitation. Accordingly

f)reparations, commensurate with the more comprehensive reso-
utions of the cabinet, were forthwith made in the ports of
France, and announced by Charles X, in his speech on opening
the session of 1830.

Our government demanded explanations, seeing that mere
chastisement was no longer spoken of, and nothing less was
avowed than the entire destruction of the regency. To this

1888.] The French in Africa. 185

demand an answer was given by the prince Polignac, that, in
case the expe<lition should be successnil, " His most Christian
Majesty would be ready to deliberate with his Majesty, and with his
other allies, respecting the arrangement by which the government
of those countries might be hereafter setded in a manner con-
ducive to the maintenance of the tranquillity of the Mediterranean
and of all Europe."

In this answer was remarked a studied silence respecting the
interests and rights of the Porte. It is true that many of tlie
European states had been accustomed to treat the regencies as
indeiiendent establishments, responsible for their conduct; but it
was impossible to deny that they all, more or less, acknowledged
the sultan to be their supreme sovereign. The king of France
had, moreover, down to a very late period, expressea his disposi-
tion to avail himself of the mediation and authority of the Turkish
government, in order to effect a reconciliation with Algiers. The
latter state was undoubtedly still vassal and tributary to the
Porte; and it was but reasonable to expect, that if the power of
the vassal were to be extinguished, the rights of the sovereign
should meet with attention. Nor was the answer of the French
minister altogether satisfactory upon the point of territorial ap-
propriation. What was to become of Algiers, if the war were to
be converted, as it seemed likely to be, into one of extermination,
and if the rights of the sultan to the soil were to be disregarded ?
To this question a reply became necessary, and it was expected
that it should embrace an official and solemn renunciation on the
part of France of all views of territorial aggrandizement.

M. de Polignac, in his reply to this interrogatory, stated
verbally tliat he had already made it known " tliat the expedition
was not undertaken with a view to obtain territorial acquisitions ;**
tliat " he would have no difficulty in giving upon this subject any
farther assurance which might be calculated to remove tlie un-
easiness of his (Britannic) majesU^'s government;" and that "he
did not dispute the sovereignty or the Porte, and would not reject
the offer oi that government to interfere for the purpose of ob-
taining the redress he was entitled to expect." At the same
time he begged it to be remembered, that " he did not mean to
abandon the establishments of La Calle and Bastion de France ;"
and he intimated that, " having already experienced the utter
inability of the Porte to influence the authorities at Algiers, he
could not advise his sovereign to delay measures for ootaining
the necessary redress by force." The prince farther declarea,
and this assurance should throughout these discussions be care-
fully borne in mind, that, "as France sought no territorial ad-
vantages, in case the then existing government of Algiers should

186 Tlie French in Africa. [Jan.

be overturned, the arrangements for the settlement of tlie future
system by which the country would be ruled, would of course be
concerted with the sultan, and being executed under his authority,
would imply a due consultation of his rights." Nothing could
be more unequivocal and satisfactory than this verbal explana-
tion ; nothing now remained to be added, except a written official
document to the same effect. This document was promised; the
prince said that it had even been drawn out, and that it only
waited for the approval of the king and the cabinet.

Nay, M. de Polignac even affected some surprise, and not a
little regret, that such a document should have been deemed at
all necessary between two governments so intimately — so con-
fidentially connected as those of England and France then were.
He lamented that he could not obtain our concurrence in the
active operations he was about to undertake for " a purpose of
equal benefit to the commerce of all nations." He " consoled''*
himself, however, with the hope that the British government
would hereafter co-operate with him in " the settlement of the
questions to which the success of the expedition would give rise ;"
and such was the conceding mood in which he happened to be
upon this occasion, that he made use of the following words to
the British ambassador : — " If you had full powers, I would
readily sign a convention recognizing every principle that has
been put forward by your government, in the communications
which have taken place on this subject."

This was, undoubtedly, a most extraordinaty declaration, con-
sidering not only the events which have since taken place, (and
then not difficult to be foreseen), but also the discussions — nay,
the resolutions, which must, at that very moment, (9th April,
18i30), have been pending, if not actually passed, in the French
cabinet.

The " official document," however, required by our govern-
ment, was, somehow or other, still delayea. In lieu of it came
fresh verbal explanations, each more vague than its predecessor ;
and what was wanted in the clearness of those communications
was fully supplied by the almost angry terms in which the French
minister expressed his surprise that, considering his own personal
character, anything farther should be demanded of him. Respect
for his own dignity, forsooth ! and for that of the government of
France, whose honour was without spot, forbade him to enter
into written covenants upon such a subject ! Their parole ought
to be deemed abundantly sufficient !

The Duke of Wellington, as a statesman, committed several
most important errors, which it has cost his successors in power
a world of labour ever since to rectify. At a moment when, by

\

1888.] The French in Africa. 187

A single word, he might have secured Turkey from the enormous
sacrinces ini|)osed u|)on her by the treaty of Adrianople, he looked
on with ajMthy, and suffered Kusaia to exact her own terms.
There was another hour in the history of the French aggression
upon Algiers, and it had now arrived, when, by a signal from
the Admiralty to Portsmouth, he might have bound trance to a
rigid observance of her non-aggrandizement declarations. Two
or three ships of war despatchecl to Algiers, would have been the
proper commentary upon the Prince de Polignac's ridiculous
indignation. We say " ridiculous," because no statesman has a
right to put forward his own personal cliaracter, however respect-
able it may be, in discussions between states of a momentous
nature, which must originate in, and be governed solely by, a
sense of public duty. L/ nhappily, that hour was suffered to elapse
without being marked, as it should have been, by measures
worthy of the British nation ; and the consequences soon became
obvious.

" The document" was again promised. It would comprehend
a declaration tliat " France would not retain possession of the
town, or the regency of Algiers, though they would insist upon
the restoration of the establishments (La Calle and Bastion de
France) which they possessed at the period of the rupture ;" and
to this was now to be added a demand for a pecuniary indem-
nity ! We said that we had nothing to do with these latter nues-
tions at the moment. All we required was, in as few words as
possible, a simple abrogation of the projects which the Moniteiir
Itself, in its unofficial columns, attributed to the French govern-
ment. The fact was, the monarchy in France was then tottering
under the powerful assaults of its domestic enemies ; and the con-
quest of Algiers was put forward as a cake for Cerberus.

The affair now began to wear a sinister appearance. The
"document" was still delaye<l under a variety ot pretexts. The
king did not think it contained all that was required. The whole
history of the discussions with Algiers was to be given. The
indemnity question was to be explained. Other questions, hitherto
untouched, were to be added. We begged that the French
diplomatists might not give themselves all this trouble. A
"document," containing four or five lines under the hand of
M. de Polignac, would fully answer our purpose. If tliis were
not forthwith given, he was desired not to be surprised, if " in-
jurious suspicions should be created and confirmed; and that he
would make himself responsible for the consequences, however
unfortunate, which might attend a state of distrust and appre-
hension." The exj)edition having sailefl, and M. de Bounuoiit,
the commander-in-chief, having been instructed to reduce Algiers

188 The French in Africa, [Jan.

by force, concealment became no longer necessaiy. The truth
was now let out. Circumstances had rendered these variations
inevitable ; but the British government might rest assured, that
if the Algerine government should be dissolved in the struggle
about to take place, " the measures to be adopted for the resettle-
ment of that country, whether by placing it under the rule of a
Turkish pacha, or such other management as might be thought
expedient, would be arranged in a conference of the representa-
tives of the allies, and not exclusively decided by the French
ministers."

History — even the history of France, replete though it be
with what in plain English may be called diplomatic humbug —
presents no example of confidence betrayed, and of rising sus-
picion baffled, more complete than that which we have now laid
before the reader. The results we need not state. Algiers was
reduced — the Dey was expelled — money, more than sufficient to
indemnify France for any injuries which she had received by the
destruction of what she called her establishments, was found in
the citadel — a new system of government, exclusively French,
has been established in the town — the representatives of the
allies of France have never been consulted upon that, or upon
any other system for the regulation of the regency — the " Turkish
Pacha" who was to govern it, is a French officer — the citadel is
garrisoned to this hour by French troops — Constantine has been
added to the French possessions in that quarter — the whole pro-
vince has been enrolled as a portion of the French empire —
Frenchmen have been encouraged to emigrate thither for the
purpose of colonization ; and if French ambition should be
ultimately foiled of its object, they cannot, at all events, com-
plain that they encountered any impediments to their projects
from the administration of the Duke of Wellington — the only
administration that could have eflFectually marred their purpose
without hazarding a war.

Let us now see what the French have been doing in other
parts of Africa since the conquest of Algiers. We happen to
have access to peculiar sources of intelligence, which enable
us to disclose a state of things on the western coast of that con-
tinent, such as it will be impossible for England to tolerate any
longer, be the consequences what they may.

We have already alluded to the French government of Senegal,
and to the pretensions long since set up for it by M. Golberry.
It will therefore be easily supposed, that the authorities in that
quarter have never contemplated with a friendly eye the British
establishments either in the Gambia or at Sierra Leone. Rivalries
of a commercial nature have necessarily existed between the

I

18S8.] The French in Africa, 169

British and French mercliants on that coast, especially with
reference to the trade in gum, which is very lucrative, yielding
very commonly returns not much under cent per cent.

Gum is, in fact, an article with which the chief manufacturers
of England and France cannot well dispense. It is used in
almost every process of dyeing, in the printing of cottons, in
the fabrication of silks, ribbons, lawns, gauzes, cambrics, and
hats. It is frequendy an ingredient in medical and confectionary
preparations ; it enters into the composition of colours for pain-
ters ; it is necessary to the varnisher and gilder, and a great
variety of other artizans. It was formerly obtained only from
Arabia, whence it was imported into France by the way of
Marseilles, and through France to England and all Europe.
The Dutch, however, in their intercourse with the African
Moors, discovered that they had forests in the desert of Sahara
which produced gum in abundance. The process of extracting
it is simple. The tree which exudes it attains all its richness in
summer. Incisions are then made in the bark, the guni passes
freely, granulates, and accumulates at the foot ot the tree.
While tne dry season continues, the produce is collected, and
put into sacks for use. Upon examination, the Dutch found
that the African gum was of a purer and more mucilaginous

auality than that even of Arabia. Hence it soon became a most
esirable article of commerce, and the Moors were encouraged
by every possible means to exchange it for European goods.
The goods given in barter for it consist chiefly of printed cottons,
which, from being at first a luxury, have now become a requisite
to Moorish costume.

The French having lost the transit trade in this valuable
commerce at home, bent all their efforts to secure the new trade
in it opened in Africa. For this purpose their establishments on
the Senegal afforded great facilities. The Dutch, and after them
the English, carried on the gum trade with the Moors, at a small
port on the western coast, in the eighteenth degree of North
latitude, and almost midway between Cape Blanco and the mouth
of the Sen^al. The Moors called it the Giaour's port. It is
now usually designated in our maps as Portendic, though we
have seen it also called Portandy and Port-Addie. The two
former names are undoubtedly corruptions of the latter ; Addie
having been the name of a king of the Trazar Moors, who lived
in the early part of last century : as with him the gum trade waa
then principally carried on, it is probable that the Europeans
would have at first given his name to the harbour.

The Trazars appear, in fact, to be the owners, or, at least, the
occupiers, of one of the three principal gum forests, which are

190 TJie French in Africa. [Jaiu

situated in the desert, at the distance of about a hundred miles
from Portendic. The French took the earhest opportunity of
entering into an understanding with that tribe, in order to induce
them to cease sending their gum to Portendic, and to convey the
whole of their produce to the Senegal. There were two other
tribes who dealt also extensively in the same article, namely, the
Bracknas and the Marabous. Besides these there are at least
thirty other tribes of Moors, who possess gum trees, either within
or beyond the precincts of the great forests, and who have been
all accustomed, like the Trazars, the Bracknas, and the Marabous,
to convey their produce to Portendic, where a sort of fair has
been annually held, at which the agents of the European
merchants negociate for the exchange ot that article.

The possession of Portendic became therefore a point of no
slight importance to the Dutch, and afterwards to the French
and English. The French set up a right to it, by reason of
a treaty concluded between them and the Trazars in the year
1723. No evidence exists to show that the Trazars possessed
that port, or even any part of that coast, in the nature of
national property, before the period when the treaty was signed.
Be this, however, as it may, it is clear that whatever was the right
to the port, or to the coast, claimed by the Trazars, it was in 1723
ceded by them to the French. We took it from the French, as
well as the Senegal, and retained both during the seven years*
war. These possessions were secured to us by the treaty of
Versailles (1763). The French having conceived that under
one of the articles of that treaty they were entitled to trade
at I'ortendic, we very speedily solved the ambiguity of the
article in question, by declaring that they had no such right; and
by way of commentary upon our interpretation, we stationed
armed vessels along the whole coast, from the bar of the Senegal
to Cape Blanco, with orders to fire upon all vessels which should
venture to ai)proach, of whatever nation they might be. With a
view to economy, as well as to the accomplishment of the entire
monopoly of the gum trade, by drawing the whole of it to our
own factories on the Senegal, we destroyed all the establishments
on the coast. In the contests which followed we lost the Senegal
(1779). At the peace of 1783, however, we took good care to
secure our right to trade for gum at Portendic, as the following
article of the treaty, signed in that year, will show.

" Art. XI. As to the gum trade, the English shall have the liberty of
carrj'ing it on, from the mouth of the river St. John to the bay and fort
of Portendic inclusively, provided that they shall not form any perma-
nent settlement of what nature soever, in the said river St. John, upon
the coast, or in the bay of Portendic."

1888.] The French in Africa, lOT

We recovered possession of the Senegal, and of the western
coast, during the late war ; and it is of importance to observe,
that there is a material difference between the treaties of 1783
and 1814 with reference to the European possessions in Africa.
By the ninth article of the Treaty of 1783, Great Britain ceded
expressly, and by name, the fort of Portendic to France, reserving
however in theefeventh article the "liberty*' above mentioned. But
the eighth article of the Treaty of 1814 only restores to France
•*the colonies, fisheries, factories, and establishments of every
kind, which were possessed by France on the 1st of January
1792, in the seas, and on the continents of America, Africa, and
Asia."

Now Portendic never was a colony or a fishery. It was at
one time a factory, when the French or the English had an
establishment there; but, following the policy of which we had
given the example, the French destroyed their establishment and
abandoned the place alto«irether, about the year 1787. This feet
rests upon the evidence of M.Golberry, whose duty it was to advise
the Senegal government upon all matters of this description. He
states that in his opinion the true interest of the Senegal govern-
ment was to attract the gum trade exclusively to tlie stations on
the river, and to destroy all their establishments on the coast, with
a view to effect that purpose. His counsel was acted upon,
previously to the year 1792, and therefore Portendic cannot
be said to have been a "factory," or an "establishment," in the
year 1792. Neither was it " possessed'' by France in that year,
for M. Golberry expressly affirms that it was abandoned. Ilie
consequence is, that as we held Portendic during the late war, and
as it cannot be brought within the words of restitution, in the
Treaty of 1814, it still remains as it then was in point of law, a
British possession.

The reader is now in a situation to estimate the enormity of
the late French aggressions upon our trade at that port, which
we shall describe m a few words. It appears that the king of
the Trazars some time ago married the niece of the king of the
Walos, a negro tribe possessing an extensive tract of territorj' on
the southern bank of the Senegal. By the law of succession
the son of this woman would have succeeded to the crown of
Walo, and then the two crowns (of the Trazars and the Walos)
would be united in the same person. The French had acquired,
whether by force or negociation we are not informed, a {Hirtion
of the Walo kingdom. The Trazars, upon whom the Walos
were dependant, would not consent to this "acquisition," and
they resolved to invade the territory with a view to regain it.
Tlie French prepared to resist them, and moreover declared

192 Ttie French in Africa. [Jan.

their determination to oppose the union of the two crowns in
any of the descendants of the queen. War followed, in the
course of which the Trazars were not only expelled from the
southern bank of the Senegal, which they had invaded, but were
also defeated on the northern bank, whither they were pursued,
and driven into the desert. A French flotilla was then stationed
in tlie river, to intercept all farther communication between the
two tribes. Thus, in fact, the French succeeded in gaining all
they had a right to expect as the result of the war. These cir-
cumstances occurred in 1832 and 1833.

The Trazars, necessarily alienated from the French by their
unjustifiable hostilities, would be reluctant, it was supposed, to
carry tlieir gum, as usual, to the stations on the Senegal. The
French consequently continued hostilities against them, and sent
two ships of war in July 1834 to the Bay of Portendic, where two
English merchant vessels, the Governor Temple and the Indus-
try, were engaged in carrying on the gum trade with the Moors.
These two vessels the French commander ordered, without any
ceremony, to quit the Bay. The English captains refused to
obey this outrageous order, whereupon the French ship of war
anchored close to the coast, and commenced firing upon the
Moors with grape and round shot. This was not all. There
was a quantity of gum on shore, prepared for embarkation on
board the Indtistry. The captain placed the English flag upon
the property in order to protect it. The Jiag was Jired upon by
the French. The two merchant vessels were captured by the
French commander and taken to the Senegal, and were not
restored until much of the benefit of the voyage was lost to the
charterers.

But the case by no means terminates here. The governor of
the Senegal threatened to blockade Portendic. Intelligence
having arrived in England of these outrages, and of the menace
by which they were followed, the British Ambassador at Paris
(Earl Granville) was instructed to enquire whether any intention
existed on the part of the French government to place the coast
in question under blockade. The reply was, that they had no
such intention. Nevertheless, upon the 15th of February fol-
lowing, (1835) the coast of Portendic was actually blockaded, in
pursuance of an official proclamation to that effect, issued under
the hand of the governor of Senegal, and in obedience to instruc-
tions which he had received from the French Minister of Marine.
An adequate force was stationed in the Bay to maintain the
blockade. An English merchant vessel, the Eliza, which had
arrived at Portendic for gum, nearly a fortnight before the com-
mencement of the blockade, was expelled from the harbour the

1888.] The French in Africa. 19S

moment the blockade took effect; and subsequently several
British merchant vessels, which were proceeding to that place
with cargoes of dn' goods in order to procure gum in exchange,
were driven away by the blockading force. The coast remained
under interdict lor more than six months.

These extraordinary occurrences of course gave rise to discus-
sions between the authorities in the Gambia and the Senegal, and
subsequently between the parent Governments ; in the course of
which, doctrines and statements have been put forward by the
French which we shall not attempt to characterize. The bare
statement of them in the most dispassionate language we can
find, will be vufficient to awaken indignation throughout the
empire.

The words of the eleventh Article of the Treaty of 1783 are
too clear to admit of any ambiguity of construction. Can it be
believed, however, that the ink was scarcely dry with which the
ratifications of that instrument were signed, when measures were
taken by the French to defeat the rights which it had secured to
the English people? A company was formed in Paris, under a
roval license, for the purpose of trading to the Senegal. An
officer of considerable intelligence, M. Durand, was sent as their
agent to Africa. His first measure on arriving there was to
enter into communication with the Trazars, the Marabous, and
the Bracknas ; and by dint of bribery, he, aided by the Governor
of Senegal, prevaile<l on those three tribes— the principal gum-
tree owners of that part of Africa — to enter into three separate
treaties, in which it was expressly stipulated and xwom that they
should not only bring all their own produce to the Senegal sta-
tions, but that they should, moreover, " never directly or indi-
rectly have any communication with the English ; that they
should employ all practicable means to intercept and totally to
suppress the trade which the English might otherwise be enabled
to carry on at Portendic, whether with any other tribe, or with
any individuals who should pas3 fur that purpose through their
country ; and that they should observe this stipulation not merely
as to the gum trade, but as to every other trade, from which they
understand, resolve, and promise, that they should exclude the
English." Tliese treaties were concluded in 1785, and signed
by the chiefs of the respective tribes, and by M. Durand — and
the then I'rench Governor of Senegal, M. de llei>entigny.*

Down to tlie moment when we recaptured the Senegal, these

■ Tbcj will be found in French and Arabic, in the second volume of M. Durand'a
VvyAiie au Siniyal, 4to. I'aii*, l»02.

VOI« IV. — NO. VII. O

194' The French in Africa. [Jan.

base efforts were renewed with all imaginable industry to deprive
us of the benefits of the Treaty of 1783. And we have just
seen that in 1834 and 1835, stimulated by the success of a simi-
lar perfidious diplomacy on the northern coast of Africa, the
Senegal authorities made use of their war with the Trazarsasa
pretext for again attempting to interfere with our rights on the
western coast of that continent.

The first ground upon which they have attempted to defend
their aggressions is really laughable for its gross absurdity.
They maintain that the treaty of 1783 is still in force, whereas
every body at all acquainted with the elements of international
law must know that a state of war puts an end to all treaties
previously existing between countries who appeal to arms to
settle their differences. Unless those previous treaties be spe-
cially renewed by engagements subsequent to the cessation of
war, they have no efficacy whatever. But the treaty of 1783
has not been renewed since the Peace, and therefore it is just so
much dead letter. Not content with this scandalous attempt at
imposition, the Governor of the Senegal, when he sent a French
commandant to Portendic in July 1834, instructed him to inform
the English whom he should find at Portendic that they had no
right, under the eleventh Article of the treaty of 1783 to trade
at that port except " under sail :" they being prohibited, he said,
bv the article in question, from making any " permanent esta-
blishment upon the coast, or in the Bay of Portendic." The
mere throwing down of the anchor in the bay was, in the opinion
of this sage governor, a "permanent establishment*' in the bay !
This statement must appear so monstrous to persons unac^
quainted with the history of these proceedings, that we deem it
necessary to produce the document in which the doctrine is
announced. The following is a translation of the letter addressed
by M. Leveque, commander of the French brig of war, Dunoiny
to the captain of the Industri/, dated — " Off Portendic, 9th July
1834.

** Sir,

" Considering that in violation of all laws subsisting between civi-
lized nations, the Governor of St. Mary's in the Gambia, has sent you
to Portendic, where you constantly afford provisions to the Trazars,
with whom we are at war; that he has thus failed in the gratitude
which he owes to the French government ; considering, moreover, the
nature of your cargo, which cannot but be of material assistance to that
tribe ; and finally acting according to the instructions which I have
received from the Governor of Senegal, I have the honour to request
that you will forthwith get under weigh, and not trade with the
Moon at Portendic except under sail, as it has been stipulated in the

1888.] TIte French in Africa. 195

treatiM concluded betwpcn the two f^ovemmcnti*. Should you decline
acceding to my request, be so good us to signify your refusal in writing,
as I ani fully resolved in that case to compel you to take tite course I
liave suggeoted.

" I have the honour to be, &c.

(Signed) Cii. Levequb."

To this letter the Captain of the Industry gave the following
very quiet reply : —

« Sir.

" I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter desiring me to
get immediately under weigh, stating that by a treaty existing between
England and France we are only permitted to trade with the Moors
under sail.

•* Conceiving the French have no authority to oppose any English
vessel that may be trading at this port, as long as a permanent settle-
ment is not formed by them on shore, and relying upon the protection
of my government, who have granted me a legal passport and permis-
sion to trade in the port of Portendic, I am under the necessity of
refusing to obey the ortler this morning received from you.

" I have the honour to be, &c

(Signed) James Einson."

We wish our readers to remark the series of falsehoods put
forth in M. Leveque's letter, which of course had been prepared
for him by the Governor of the Senegal. Tiie frtdustry was
not sent to Portendic by the Governor of tiie Gambia ; it was
trading on the account of Mr. Harrison, a London merchant. It
contained no provisions for the Trazars — nothing but dry goods
intended to be exchanged for gum. It did not appear that there
was an individual of the Trazar tribe on the shore at the time.
The allusion to " gratitude" was a mere impertinence. The
cargo, of whatever nature it was, was not destined for the
Trazars in particular, but for any Moors who happened to be on
the shore and had gum to dispose of. There was no treaty in
existence between the two nations which contained the stipula-
tion so expressly stated. Nor could any ojwration have been
more impracticable in that Bay than trading under sail, by rea-
son of the enormous swell of the Atlantic upon that coast, and
the surf which even in the mildest weather renders a passage to
the beach in a small boat an aflUir of no sm<ill danger.

Nevertheless, the InduMnj and the Goremor Tent pie (belonging
to Messrs. Forsier and Smith, of London) were both captured upon
these false and frivolous pretences. The Governor of the Senegjil,
finding his first construction of the eleventh Article utterly un-
tenable, then shifted his ground : having learned that an Eng-
lish mercantile agent happened to be on shore negociating for

o2

196 77/e French in Africa. [Jan.

gum with some Moors who had erected according to their cus-
tom a hut composed of moveable materials, charged this same
Imt as a " permanent establishment," constructed by " the
English" in violation of the Treaty !

We have no desire to admit any thing into these discussions
which might enlist the passions on either side. But really the
language held by M. Leveque upon this occasion to Mr. Hughes,
supercargo of the Industry, and to Mr. Pellegrin, supercargo
of the Governor Temple, was in every respect so unjustifi-
able, that we do not think it ought to be passed over. Some
apology is due from the French government for the expressions
in which that officer ventured to address two British subjects,
engaged in the pursuit of their lawful trade. These two gentle-
men M. Leveque thought fit to have transferred to the Dunois,
where he treated them as his prisoners. In the meantime he
ordered his second officer in command (M. Guachina) to compel
the crew of the Industry to hoist sail.

" ' Yes, sirs I — You are both my prisoners, at least until this cutter,
(the " Industry,") shall get under sail. That cursed vessel— ybw/r^ /
(an untranslatable exclamation) — a d — d vessel like that to give me so
much trouble. Go, Mr. Guachina, take some men with you in the long-
boat, and compel those fellows to hoist sail instantly. They may wish,
perhaps, that I may read to them my authority. Foutre ! if they want
bullets they shall have plenty of them immediately. They shall not
long wait for that.'

" Guachina then said, ' Captain, shall I take guns with me in the
long boat.'

" ' Yes, foutre ! — yes — certainly' — answered the captain — ' those
scoundrels, ((fvedins), are capable of any thing. I am astonished,' he
added, turning to Mr, Hughes, * that your governor M'as not ashamed
to send these vessels here, after all that he owed us. (1 1 ) His conduct
is infamous, and I am the more surprised at it, as he told me at his own
table, that the only mode of forcing those rascals (the Moors), to sue
for peace, waus to deprive them of provisions. The ungrateful wretch.
He is a man devoid of all honour — a mean-minded creature. But —
foutre I it is not astonishing after all, seeing that half the cargo belonged
to himself.'

" Both Mr. Hughes and Mr. Pellegrin at once denied this to be
the case. ' Yes,' said this polite commander, — ' I know it well, — I have
it on the best authority.' On Mr. Hughes remonstrating with him
upon the impropriety of his proceedings, he answered — ' As to
me, I have my instructions. I am pretty certain that Mr. Puzol,
(the Governor of Senegal), who sent me hither, would not have
taken it upon him to act as he has done, without having well
considered the treaty — and I warrant you he is no fool. Now, either
he is right, or your governor is right, and, therefore, one of the two
must be an ass.' Mr. Hughes disclaimed the title for hb governor —

1888.] The French in Africa. 197

Mr. Rendall, since deceaAed — an officer of no ordinary merit and intel-
ligence. The commander then, furiously stamping on the deck, re-
peated— ' Oui, je vous dis qu'oui — uu des deux est un jcan-foutre et
e'est pour le-s deux gouvernemens d decider lequci !"

nils is but a chastenotl specimen of tlie kind of laiifruage
which tlie commander of French ships of war think themselves
authorized to hold to Englishmen, engaged in the pursuit of
tlieir lawful avocations on the western coast of Africa !

When the two questions, of tlie aggressions in 1834, and the
blockade in 1835, were brouglit officially, by Lord Palmerston,
under the consideration of the French government, the latter,
indeed, did not attempt to justify the construction put'upon the
eleventh article of the treaty of 1783, by M. Puzol. They
maintaine<l, however, that in consequence of France having been
then, (1834 and 1835), at war with the Trazars, it was compe-
tent to the governor of Senegal to put the coast under interdict;
that the interdiction, no matter on what ground it was declared,
was, in itself, the exercise of a lawful right; and that the
blockade by which it was followed, was also equally lawful, inas-
much {IS every country has a right of self-defence against its
enemies; and this right enabled Trance to susi)end the " faculty
commerciale" which the English enjoyed under the treaty, to
trade at a port belonging to a nation with which France was then
actually engaged in warfare.

The doctrine that the interdiction was in itself lawful, however
erroneous the grounds officially assigned for it at the time it was
carried into effect, is too gross an outrage upon common sense,
and upon the first principles of international law, to admit of a
moment's consideration. As to the process of blockade, nobody
doubts that a belligerent lias a perfect right to apply it against
his antagonist ; but then, he must take care that the^ territory
he places under blockade is the territory of his enemy. Now,
whatever projx^rty the Trazars may have had in the coast of Por-
tendic, previously to tlie year 1723, it was unquestionably ceded
by them to the French in that year, by the treaty already alluded
to. History attests, that the coast was English during the seven
years* war — that it was restored in 1783 by the English to the
French; that in 1785, M. Durand, by his three memorable
treaties, engaged three separate and independent tribes, 'amongst
which were the Trazars, to suppress the English trade at Porten-
dic, thereby allowing to the Trazars no more authority over the
coast, than to either of the two other tribes ; that although the
French destroyed their establishments on the coast in 1787, and
then ceased to frequent it, there is no evidence to show that the
Trazars took possession of it ; that it again became Britisii during

198 The French in Africa. [Jan.

the revolutionary war, and that not havhig been restored to
France in 1814, it still remains British to all intents and
purposes. And this was the territory which the French ven-
tured to blockade in 1835, because they were at war with the
'Irazars !

But, for the sake of the argument, let us for a moment deal
with the supposition, that the treaty of 1783 was in force in
1835, and that the coast actually belonged to theTrazars. The
question would then turn upon the construction of the eleventh
article, which we have already cited. Will it be believed, that
the French government, in stating their views as to the meaning
of this article, have uniformly treated the " liberty* of the
English to trade at Portendic, as nothing more than a " faculte
commerciale ?" The word " faculte," it is evident, ex vi ter-
m'mi, would convey only a right of enjoyment, emanating from
some higher source, — the continuance, or suspension of which
would be dependent on that higher source. By substituting
" faculte" for " liberte," they wish to show, that the right of
the English to trade at Portendic, is simply the possession of a
faculty over which they possess authority, and which, therefore,
they can suspend, and having suspended, may restore whenever
they think fit.

But the words of the article are absolute, and subject to no
exception, provided we make no permanent establishment in the
bay or on the coast. " As to the gum trade, the English shall
have the liberty of carrying it on," &c. The King of England,
restoring to France certain territory which he had acquired from
her by force of arms, reserves to his subjects the liberty still to
carry on their trade with that territory. The power of trading
is, therefore, a portion of his sovereign rights, acquired by con-
quest, which he does not cede, but, on the contrary, most expressly
reserves. And M. Golberry remarking upon this very article,
says, or rather complains, that " the English therein preserved
to themselves, in a clear and decided manner^ the right of
trading conjointly with ms to Arguin and Portendic.'''' — vol. i,
p. 153.

It follows, therefore, that even assuming the coast to be
Trazar property, the French had no authority, even for a season,
to abrogate our liberty to trade there, unless they had previously
obtained the consent of our government to that measure. The
right of an Englishman to repair to Portendic, was exacdy equal
to that of a Frenchman to do the same thing ; and no circum-
stance, short oi war between themselves, could justify the one in
preventing the other from trading there.

Now, we certainly were not at war with France in 1834 or

1838.] The French in Africa. lUO

1885. Nor is it pretended that our government consented
eitlier to tlie expulsion of our traders from the Bay of Portendic,
in the former year, or to the blockade in the latter. On the
contrary, our government never acknowledged the blockade.
Farther, if the French had longer |)erseveretl in it, steps were
in active preparation at the Admiralty for raisiny it by superior
force. 1 he moment this was announced, M. Leveque and Co.
were very glad to take to their heels.

Let the case, therefore, be put in any shape whatever, either
supposing the treaty of 1783 to exist or not to exist, it is manifest
that the expulsion of our vessels from Portendic in 1834, and the
blockade of the coast in 1835, were nothing more or less than
piratical acts, for which this country must obtain from France
tlie most signal reparation. They were " part and parcel " of
that perfidious diplomacy by which the French have succeeded in
gaining possession of Algiers. The measures adopted in the
north, in the south, and in the west, have all had for their
common object the utter exclusion of English influence and
trade from that not insignificant portion of the Moorish conti-
nent, which M. Golberry was pleased to mark out as " French
Africa."

Never, in the history of any blockades which have come under
our observation, was a pretext for a measure of that species
more audacious, or more false, than that which the Governor of
Senegal announced upon this occasion. His declaration was in
effect to this purpose. " We are at war with the Trazars — the
English trade with them at Portendic — that trade enables our
enemy to abstain from making peace; it affords them clothing,
and so long as they can trade there, they will not come to the
Senegal. We must, therefore, put tlie coast of Portendic under
interdict." Will it be believed that this was a war measure ? An
operation to recover a declining trade through the medium of a
blockade, is decidedly a violation of international law. Persons
engaged in it are clearly liable to be dealt with as pirates. All
the authorities are express upon this point. " A blockade,"
says Sir Wm. Scott, " miposed for the purpose of obtaining a
conmiercial monopoly for the private advantage of the state
which lays it on, is illegal and void from the very principle upon
which it is founded.'*

The political object of the war, that is, the expulsion of the
Trazars from the Walo territory, and the termination of their
intercourse with that territory, had been completely effected
before the period of the blockade. If the privation of those

• Kdwards' .\diiiiralty Report*, p. 320.

200 Tlie French in Africa* [Jan.

objects which the Trazars were accustomed to obtain in exchange
for their gum, had become necessary in order to compel the
Trazars to conclude a peace, how happens it that during the very
periods when our vessels were expelled from Portendic, and the
blockade was rigidly enforced against us, the French merchants
of Senegal were not interdicted from pursuing the gum trade as
usual at the stations on that river, one of these stations having
been long expressly appropriated for the reception of the Trazar
gum? Why were the Trazars who appeared during those two
years at that station never fired upon ? Why were the French
trading boats at that station never placed under embargo ?

We have evidence before us to show that preparations more
extensive than usual were made in 1834 by French mercliants in
Senegal, for trading with the Trazars. We have in our hands a
copy of the regulations agreed to by an association of those mer-
chants for that purpose. We happen also to possess a letter
written by a French merchant residing in Senegal, dated the
20th of March, 1835, giving an account of the establishment of
this association. " The blockade," (says the writer, who was
one of the directors of this company) " established by the
French government, gives us reason to calculate on obtaining
the gum collected by the Trazars ; and upon the supposition of
the harvest being an average one, we are entitled to expect that
our association will bring back 1500 tons of gum from the three
different factories on the river." The blockade was established
about a month before this letter was written. Can any man,
therefore, doubt for one moment that the blockade of Portendic
was a commercial and not a political blockade ? — a blockade not
against the Trazars, but against the English — a blockade forming
only one of the many frauds and annoyances of which the French
have been guilty in Africa, for the purpose of securing to them-
selves a monopoly of all the advantages which the western and
X^ntral portions of that continent are capable of yielding?
\ It was reported that in the treaty of peace which the French
concluded with the Trazars and signed on the 30th of Aunjust
1835, there were articles similar to those contained in M. I)u-
rand's infamous treaties of 1785, for the total suppression of our
trade at Portendic. To a question put by our minister at Paris
upon this point, a distinct negative was given. But it was not
stated that the treaty in question does contain an article which
we have seen — the 4th article, in which very considerable pre-
sents, double those usually given, are stipulated to be paid by
the French to the Trazars, with the view of inducing them to
cease trading in future at Portendic. Navj it has been ascer-
tained that measures have been actually attempted by the

18S8.] The French in Africa. 201

French authorities and residents at Senegal, since the last treaty
was signetl, to carry into effect the object proposed by M. Du-
rand. The following statement on this subject has been made
by Mr. Isaacs, a mercantile gentleman of great intelligence and
activity, who has recently visited that part of Africa.

" While I was at Portendic in August last (1836), I saw there
•ereral Moors, some of whom had just arrived from the French trading
ports on the Senegal, and others from the colony itself. Tliese Moors
informed me that the French had offered to the king of the Trazars five
thousand dollars, or if that 8um fell short of it, a greater remuneration
than the Moors obtained from the English through the gum trade at
Portendic, if he (the Trazar king) would agree to destroy that trade, and
cause the whole of the gum to be taken to the Senegal. In conse-
quence of this communication, I proceeded to the king of the Trazars,
and inquired of him if this information were tnie. He told me that it
was perfectly true ; and added that the same offer had been frequently
made by the French authorities at Senegal to himself, and to his
brother, who usually negociated with the French all matters of business
between them. The king farther stated, that since the treaty of August
1835, the inhabitants of Senegal had offered, that if he would cause the
English trade at Portendic to be destroyed, and the gum trade alto-
gether transferred to the Senegal, he should receive a proportionate
contribution from every house, and even every hut in Senegal, the
most insignificant of which should not be less than two dollars."

We have heard it declared by one of the highest international
law authorities in this country, that the treaties concluded by
MM. Durand and Uepentigny in 1785 with the Moorish tribes,
for tlie purpose of defeating the " liberty" secured to the English
by the eleventh article of the treaty of 1783, would have formed
a just cause for war. If we have any rights still remaining on
the western coast of Africa, we apprehend that the proceeaings
which we have now stated, on the part of the French, would
fully justify this country in redressing the injuries, and avenging
the insults we have received, by an immediate resort to reprisals.
If the dignity of France, wounded by an affront offered to her
consul by the Dey of Algiers, could not be expiated by any
measure short of tne expulsion of that chief from the seat of his
power, the extermination of his subjects, and the appropriation
to her own use not only of the town but of tlie entire regency,
we ask what compensation can be sufficient to wipe away the
stain flung u|X)n the honour, and the grievous outrages inflictwl
upon the interests of Great Britain, throughout the whole of
these most iniquitous transactions?

202 MemterUnii — or Animal Mayiietism. [Jan.

Art. VIII. — 1. Quelquen Consid^rationn pour servir a VHiatoire
du Mognefisme Animale. Par A. Fillassier. Paris. 1832.

2. E^posi dea Experiences sur le Mafjnetisme faites a VHotel-
Dieu de Paris. Seme Edit. Paris. 1821. And some
Account of Mesmerism (in lyondon Medical Gaxefte, 1837.
Vol. XXI, pp. 291, et seq.J Par M. le Baron Du Potet de
Sennevoy.

3. A lecture on Animal Magnetism, delivered at the North
London Hospital, [as reported in Lancet, Vol. II, 1836-7,
pp. 866, etseq.) By John Elliotson, M.D., F.R.S.

4. Powers of the Roots of the Nerves in HealtJi and Disease.
Likewise on Animal Magnetism. By Herbert Mayo, F.R.S.
London. 1837.

5. Report on Animal Magnetism made to the Royal Academy
of Medicine at Paris, August the 8th and 22nd, 1837, as
translated in London Medical Gazette, 1837. Vol. XXI,
pp. 918, et seq.

WE profess ourselves unable to assign the causes, and still
more to fix the limits, of human credulity. Among
uncivilized and barbarous nations, and among very young
children, it appears to be subject to no bounds, and this may
be conjectured to arise from their limited experience, which
being too circumscribed to enable them to judge of the proba-
bility of events, renders it equally impossible for them to say
what is or what is not possible within the illimitable range of
nature. Accordingly, among such persons it is that we observe
an insatiable appetite for the marvellous, which is ministered to
in a thousand ways, — by inexperience, timidity, inaccuracy of ob-
servation, and exaggerated relations of events. If, as sometimes
has happened, minds of a nobler cast — stored with learning, and
inured to lofty contemplations — have been infected with the
canker of superstition, it is attributable to the same source,
or, in other words, to an inexperience of the phenomena of
nature, and an unacquaintedness with the principles of science.
As natural philosophy has been cultivated, and its truths widely
disseminated, superstitions have gradually declined, so that at
the present day few or none of them are to be found, except in
remote and sequestered districts of the country.

But if natural philosophy has been successful in banishing
the grosser superstitions, it has still allowed many minor ones to
remain ; and nere we may observe, that it is in physic that they
have chiefly taken refuge ; for, as the truths of medicine are

k

18S8.] Mesmeritm^ —or Animal Mnynetiimi. 203

less generally known than those of other sciences, and yet are
of greatest concernment to mankind, it is natural to sup|X)se that
men's fears should principally operate in this direction : and this,
we apprehend, will be a sufficient reply to the array of great
names which have been adduced in support of animal magnetism.
If the celebrated Cuvier was a believer in this doctrine, as he is
affirmed to have been, what, we would ask, were Cuvier's
opportunities of experience in regard to the diseases of the living
body, which could enable him, from just analogies, to say what
was or what was not natural in its functions, or how far morbid
phenomena were explicable upon the acknowledged principles
of physiology ? Men, when they set themselves to judge on
subjects of which they are ignorant, are, quoad these particu-
lars, on a level with the vulgar, and their decisions are deserving
of no greater respect. And as to the observation of La Place
on this same subject, it is merely one of caution, not too rashly to
disbelieve in inexplicable phenomena; in opposition to which^the
following extract from the same author {Essai PhUosoph' que stir
le Calcul dcs'Probabifit&Si p. 150) may fairly be adduced to the
same subject : —

" The probability of error," he says, " or of the falsehood of testi-
mony, becomes in proportion greater as the fact which is attested is
more pxtraoniiiiary. Some authors have advanced a contrary opinion ;
but the simple good sense of mankind rejects so strange an assertion,
while the calculation of probabilities, confirming the decisions uf com-
mon sense, appreciates with still greater accuracy the improbability of
testimony in favour of extraonlinary events. One may judge from
this, what an immense weight of testimony is required before we can
admit a suspension of the laws of nature, and how absurd it would be
in such a case to be guided by the ordinary rules of practice. In fact,
all those who have related extraordinary events, without supporting
their relations with this accumulated weight of evidence (cede immensite
det lemoif/najes), have weakened rather than augmented the credibility
which they have sought to inspire, for such relations have made the
chance of error or falsehood still greater. But that which weakens
the evidence of men of intelligence increases that of the vulgar, which
is always greedy after wonders. There are some things so extraordi-
nary, that nothing can counterbalance their improbability."

Aninml magnetism may be describetl to be the effect produced .
by the proximity of two animated beings, in certain positions,
and combined with certain movements, in consequence of which
a state of sleep, or rather of somnambulism is induce<l, in
which the mental and physical faculties of tlie patient undergo
an extraordinary exaltation, and other phenomena take place
of a still more wonderful nature. It is probably well known,
that this city has recently been enlightened by the presence of

204 Mesmerism,— or Animal Magnetism. [Jan.

the Baron du Potet de Sennevoy ; and that this gentleman, in
addition to public conversaziones held daily at his rooms in
Orchard Street, for the purposes of clinical instruction, has lately
put forth an elaborate statement of the Mesmeric doctrines in the
London Medical Gazette, from which publication we shall pro-
ceed to give some explanation of the phenomena above alluded
to.

According to this gentleman, all the functions of the animal
body are dependent on the nervous system. The nervous fluid,
which is secreted in the brain and disseminated by the nerves, is
closely analogous to, if not identical with, the electric and
galvanic fluids. " But this agent does not confine itself within
the muscles and the skin; it throws itself olf with a certain
degree of lorce, and then forms a real nervous atmosphere— a
sphere of activity absolutely similar to that of electrified bodies."
my more ; this nervous or active atmosphere is placed under the
influence of volition, so as to be encreased or concentrated at
pleasure, and afterwards transmitted into another individual,
where it accumulates in such a degree, as in some cases to
amount to an actual saturation of the nervous system, and thus
explain the secousses sometimes experienced by the patients.
But this is not all. This etherial fluid is made to be a sort of a
stage-coach to the desires and affections of the magnetizer.
" These desires, this will, being actions of the brain, it (viz. the
magnetic fluid) transmits them by means of the nerves, as far
as tlie periphery of the body, and beyond it." And thus the
whole mind of the operator becomes transfused into the mind
of his patient, who henceforth, losing all sense of personal
identity, is rapt into a state of abstraction.

" If it be true," observes Du Potet, " that one man can penetrate
another with a part of the vital principle, which his organization con-
ceals, the life of that individual being necessarily viise en plus, the
phenomena which appear ought to have a supernatural character,
and surprise by their novelty, and by tlie difference which they
present from other phenomena. Well : this hypothesis is realized
in the act of magnetism. The individual obedient to magnetism, the
man who experiences the effects of this power, ceases, for an instant,
to be the same person. Every thing is modified in his organization.
All his perceptions are quickened, they become more comprehensive,
and he is rendered capable of executing things which he could not
before accomplish, and of which he had not thought in his habitual
state. The agent who produces such a state, gives the means of heal-
ing many diseases, which have resisted every remedy in ordinary
medicine, and the extacy which he provokes, calls medicine and philo-
sophy to new meditations, which, I am certain, will bring forth doc-
trines fraught with happy results." — Lancet, No. 733, p. 906.

1888.] Mesmerisniy — or Animal Magnetism. 205

In laying before our readers the facts of this extraordinary
science, we shall avail ourselves, as much as possible, of the most
recent authoritiw, and especially of that of the Baron du Potet,
which, besides being unimpoacnable in all respects, carries with
it an additional stamp of authenticity, from the author having
assured ns, " that twenty years' experience and observation
have made him familiar with obscure facts." Notwithstanding,
therefore, the Baron's vehement declamations against public
prejudice, we promise him that we shall never be more happy
than when we nave an opportunity of referring to his own words.
We do not, indeed, quite agree with him in all that he has said
resjjecting the struggles of genius, or the dulness of public
perception. If it has occasionally happened that valuable dis-
coveries have been made, which the public has been slow to
recognize, we venture to think that liiis may have happened
in consequence of the multitude of impositions. If again it
has so happened that women and idle persons of all sorts are
those who nave chiefly resorted to his saloons, he has at least the
satisfaction of reflecting, that among this number are included
many " distinguished for their rank and fortune." If Mesmer
was virtually banished from two countries in succession, he was at
least '* liberally rewarded"' by his disciples, " who were all
possessed of wealth and rank." If men of science of all countries
and successive public commissions have rejected the magnetic
doctrine as a delusion, this imports not the least doubt of its
credibility, as " many questions have been decided without the
concurrence of the learned, and often, indeed, notwithstanding
their formal opposition." " If many truths have been rej<*ctea
when first brought forward, and which have since been established,"
the number of absurd speculations which have shared the same
fate has been at least as a thousand to one : finally, if " at the
present day few enlightened men doubt of the existence of the
magnetic agent," we do not quite comprehend the consistency
of the following magnanimous resolution. " What is to be done
under such circumstances? to be silent, and pity the men who
force you to bend beneath their hasty decisions ; for when men
say no, respecting a fact, and nature says yes, it is very certain
that nature will eventually prevail."

Anthony Mesmer, the discoverer of Animal Magnetism, was
born in Switzerland, in the year 1740, and early exhibited the
erratic propensities of his mind, in a thesis before the University
of Vienna, ** on the* influence of the planets on the human
body." When or by what means he became acquainted with the
"secret of directing at will, and by very easy means, the fluid
which sets our nerves "in motion," does not appear; but only that

5^06 Mesmerism^ — or Animal Maynetiwt. [Jan.

these opinions, which began to be diffused in the Austrian capital
about 1775, created so much opposition as to oblige their pro-
pounders to quit that city in 1777. We know not by what fa-
tality it has happened that France, the recipient of almost every
mysterious bantling cradled in Germany, has generally been
among the first to strangle these enfnns trour^s. Mesmer, des-

? airing of working any effect on his own countrymen, arrived in
*aris in 1778, where he soon created a great sensation in his
favour; but, having laid his system before the Academies of
Science and Medicine, and finding that it was repudiated by
several public commissions, he then conceived the plan of a
public institution. This soon acquired a name, and became a
favourite lounge for all the chief fashionables of Paris, and a
favourite theme for most of the lighter literature and conversation
of the day. Several abuses, however, having transpired connected
with these exhibitions, a feeling of indignation soon compelled
Mesmer to leave Paris with precipitation ; and retiring to Sj>a,
the doctrines of which he had been the author soon fell into for-
getfulness. They were revived in 1825 by M. Foissac, and
again in the beginning of 1837 by M. Berna, in a challenge
addressed to the Royal Academy of Medicine, in which "he
undertook to afford to those to whom, he said, authority was
nothing, personal experience as a means of conviction."

Of the proceedings consequent on this challenge we shall speak
presently.

The modes adopted for eliciting the magnetic effect have been
regulated by a sort of fashion, while the effects themselves have
been equally capricious. The proceeding of Mesmer was highly
elaborate. In the centre of a large apartment was elevated a
small wooden vessel, containing bottles, and other nonsense
arranged secundum artem. From the perforated cover of this
vessel proceeded a number of iron rods, which the party, disposed
in the form of a circle, were directed to take hold of Meanwhile
the magnetizcr, armed with a magic baton, directed the magnetic
fluid, by various waving motions, over the persons of his patients,
sometimes to the sound of a piano or armonica, but always in the
direction of the poles. We must not suppose, however, that all
this apparatus of water, bottles, and metallic rods, was actually
essential to the disengagement of the magnetic agent. " Mag-
netism," we are assured by Du Potet, " could be exercised in
various different ways. The universal fluid being everywhere,
the magnetizer contained a portion of it in himself, which he had
the power of communicating or directing by a rod, or by the
movement of his extended fingers. In addition to these gestures,
performed withont coming in contact with the patients, it was

18S8.] Mesmerism^ — or Animal Maynetistn. 207

cuntomary to touch gentlv the hypochondria, the epigastric region,
and the limbs. To add to tlie effect of these operations, trees,
water, articles of food, or other objects touched, were magnetized;
for all bodi(»s in nature, according to Mesmer, were susceptible
of magnetism."

Now in our judgment Mesmer's process was incomparably
superior to any which has since been devised ; for though un-
doubtedly simplicity is very desirable, yet we should ever be on
our guard not to allow it to interfere with the full eff*ects which we
intend to pursue. On this account, therefore, we should decidedly
approve of the modern process. This is as follows. *' The patient
desired to sit down. 'I'he operator, then, standing or sitting at a
little distance before her, raises his hand more or less hori-
zontally to die level of her forehead, his fingers being pointed
towards the patient, and at the distance of from two inches to
four, or six, or more; he then moves his hand, at the same dis-
tance from the jH'rson, down the chest or down the arms and
legs, sometimes keeping it for a few seconds steadily, or with an
undulating motion, |)ointed towards the head, or to the pit of the
stomach, or to the knee. Those looking on are requested not to
move or speak, so as to draw off the attention of the patient from
the operator." These movements must all be in the axis of the
body. Each magnetist, however, has his own particular method.
Dr. Sigmond, though he does not consider the process he has
employed perfect, says that "it is from the centre of the nose
downwards that the effect is most speedily induce<l, and the
drawing of the hand downwards from the brow, so as to affect
the eyes, he finds to be quite unnecessary." Du Potet prolongs
his manipulations to the extremities ; others assert that it is suf-
ficient to look people stedfastly in the face, and to will a parti-
cular phenomenon, and immediately it will be produced; while
others, again, discarding equally the passes and the presence of
the patient, Sciy that the full influence may be obtained at twenty
yards distance, and in spite of the intervention of a brick wall.
It would appear, therefore, that nothing is more easy than to
evoke this extraordinary agent, so obedient, and yet so marvel-
lous in its effects.

The persons on whom any of these spells have been cast,
experience various unusual sensations, such as wandering pains
over the body, especially in the head and stomach ; an augmenta-
tion or suppression of the cutaneous perspiration, palpitations of
the heart, a sense of gasping or catching of the breath, evinced by
re[)eated yawnings, slight nmscular twitches, tingling of the
ears, dizzmess of the eyes, a vivid sensation of singular comfort
and enjoyment, an extraordinary exaltation of the mental faculties,

208 Mesmerism — or Animal Magnetism. [Jan.

and many other singular effects on the nervous system. These
phenomena, however, which vary infinitely in different indi-
viduals, are usually found to terminate in " the most remarkable
and most constant of all, viz. convulsions."

One of the most customary effects produced by the waving
motions above described, is the production of sleep, or of a
peculiar physiological state, which has been sometimes denomi-
nated trance. We are of opinion that a state resembling sleep
may be and often is induced in certain individuals, placed under
the above circumstances, and that it is solely on account of this
facti that credence has been given to other improbable statements
connected with the magnetic doctrine. We say this because
we cannot otherwise account for the fact that it ever should
have received any support, unless some admixture of truth
had been present to qualify the mass of error, and give it the
appearance of nraisemblnnce. The following case, as reported
by Dr. Sigmond, occurred a few weeks ago, and may be depended
upon as perfectly authentic. We may add that Dr. Sigmond has
" exercised this art upon nearly a hundred persons, and with
very general success on the fairer part of the creation." For
though men may occasionally be affected in the same way, they
are very unpropitious subjects for the experiment.

" I was enjoying," (says Dr. Sigmond) " the hospitality of a most

amiable family in Square, when animal magnetism became the

topic of conversation, and I related the trials I had already made.
One of the young ladies proposed to become the subject of experiment,
to which I very willingly assented ; for, having on former occasions
attended her during momentary sickness, I was fully aware of the
natural strength of her constitution, and the absence of that nervous
temperament which renders this system inapplicable. I began what
are technically called ' the passes.' They, as is not unusual, excited
laughter and incredulity. I proceeded for about five minutes, and then
stopped and inquired if any sensation was produced, and the answer
was, ' a slight sleepiness;' and ridicule was again thrown upon the
subject. I recommenced the manipulations; I observed the eyelids
falling, and at last they closed; but, as the same incredulous smile
remained, I persevered for three or four minutes, when I, almost
doubting whether any influence had been produced, inquired what the
feelings were ; to this no answer was returned. I found my young
friend was in the most complete trance I had ever yet witnessed as the
result of my magnetism. The stupor was most profound ; and I then
tried the usual means to arouse her, but they were vainly exercised.
After a few minutes I found the hands become icy cold, the face lost
its natural hue, and became perfectly pallid ; the extremities became
quite cold ; the respiration was imperceptible ; the stimulus of light did
not affect the eye ; on speaking to her a faint smile was excited, and a

1888.] Megmerism^ — or Animal Magnetism. 2()9

quivering of the Iowit jaw. which soemed to indicate a wish hut an
incapability of answering: the pulse became gradually frebler, whilst
the external apjiearance altogether bore such a decidedly deathly east,
that naturally some apprehension waj exciteil amongst her family, by
whom she was surrounded. Of course I could not but feel a certain
degree of anxiety and regret that I had produced such a state, and
much uneasiness at the thought that I had inHicted a moment's alarm to
my kind friends. These feelings were, however, h^ss acute, from the
full knowledge I entertained that the family had long reposed the most
perfect confidence in me, and that no member of it had that nervous
nuseeptibility, which would have embarrassed me had any untoward
accident presented itself.

" I placed the perfectly unconscious subject of this distressing scene
in a horizontal position, and directed the application of warmth and of
friction to the extremities. Circulation and animal heat were gradually
excited, but she presented a nu)st singular appearance of suspended
animation. In this condition she remained more than four hours, for I
had conunenced a little after ten in the evening, and it was about half-
past two, that, on some slight t fibrt being made to rouse her, she
uttered some of the most piercing shrieks I have ever heard ; there
were convulsive eflbrts to raise the limbs ; the face, too, became con-
vulsed ; she opened her eyes and stared wildly around ; she was placed
in the upright posture, and seemed sensii)le. Advantage was taken of
this circumstance to carry her to her apartment ; before, however, she
could reach it, she fell into a profound slumber, but its character Mas
more natural. She wus placed in her l>ed, appearing perfectly com-
posed ; the countenance had acquired its natural hue ; the respiration
was perfectly easy, and the pulse natural. In this state she remained
during the whole of the day, until nine o'clock in the evening, once
only opening her eyes, and addressing a few words to an anxious and
affectionate sister who never left her side. In the evening the young
lady joined her family perfectly restored to her wonted cheerfulness.
She expressed no complaint whatever. She stated that the feelings
that first came over her were thc»se of extreme quiet and repose, — a
species of ecstasy, — a gradual languor seemed to steal over her ; that
she heard something passing around her ; felt an inclination, but an
utter impossibility, to reply. The first waking up she. however,
described as almost terrific. It was as if she was bursting from a
narrow and confined space, and as if she arose from interminable dark-
ness. The lesson that I have thus learnt will not be lost upon me."

We should probably find some difficulty in staling what was
the precise cause of the state of trance above described. As
these operations are always performed in pt^rfect silence, and
generally in perfect seriousness, on the part of the operator, we
must certainly allow something to these causes; something n)ust
also be allowed to the repeated undulations of air passing over
the surface of the face, wljich may not unaptly resemble a gentle
chafing of the hands, which has often been known to have a

VOL. IV. — NO. VII. p

210 Mesmerism, — or Animal Magnetimi. [Jan.

soothing tendency. Still more, we think, ought to be attributed
to the state of mental abstraction induced by these manoeuvres,
in consequence of which the mind is allowed to repose without
any definite subject of contemplation, being as in the state pre-
ceding natural sleep, when the half-closed senses transmit only
imperfect impressions to the brain. A practice, called " stealing
away of the breath," seems to have been known to the ancients,
and is described by Suetonius to consist of quietly fanning the
atmosphere before the nostrils, so as to interrupt the due ingress
of air into the lungs. Those, therefore, who regard the efficient
physical cause of sleep to be the circulation of imperfectly oxy-
genated blood in the brain, consequent upon retarded respira-
tion, have naturally resorted to this explanation, which however
does not appear to us to be at all satisfactory, inasmuch as the
magnetic manipulations may be performed at such a distance
from the body, and with so much gentleness, as scarcely to have
any appreciable effect upon the respiration. We confess we are
disposed ourselves to refer the effect chiefly to monotony. We
know that the constant iteration of any impression, which is not
in itself stimulating, will generally predispose to somnolency, as
the sound of a fountain, the dulness of a discourse, or the
soothing lullaby of a baby. Music sends some to sleep, and
tickling others, but in none of these cases are we able to explain
the cause, any more than we can explain why motion in a vessel
should produce sickness, or untying a knot in a silken thread
induce a state of syncope. The supposition of a magnetic fluid
is not only in itself utterly devoid of proof, but utterly insufficient
for the explanation.

We believe that the preceding state more nearly resembles a
trance than natural sleep, the state of unconsciousness being
more profound, and the vital functions being more under arrest.
According to Mr. Mayo, the pupils are not contracted as in
natural sleep, and the muscles are less relaxed. But however
this may be, the fact alone that epileptic and hysteric persons are
most susceptible of this state is a sufficient proof of its being
allied to disease. Persons who are disposed to talk or walk in
their sleep naturally, show those propensities perhaps still more
remarkably in the artificial state, but beyond this we give no
credit to the stories of somnambulism, and altogether discredit
the pretensions of the operator to disenchant the victim of his
spells, by transverse passes and other cabalistic methods. —
According to the vivid imaginations of the Mesmerists, the
magnetizer and the magnetizee stand in the relation to each
other of loadstone and steel, so that the latter sees or hears the
former only among a crowd, and necessarily obeys him, to go
liithcr or thither according to his pleasure. These, however, are

1838.1 Affsmeriwif — ffr Animal Af(i(/netixm. 211

\

the purely visionary parts of the doctrine, which require only to
be statwl to be refuted.

Every one must have noticed the effect of anxiety, or indeed
of any other powerful emotion,

Quidquid ogunt homines, votum, ira, timer, voluptas,
Gaudia, delectus, —

in exciting convulsive motions in persons habitually pretlisposed ;
under which circumstances occasional twitchesof individual mus-
cles, or slight palpitations of the heart, become aggravated to a
painful extent. Our readers may have seen this exemplified in
the instance of a noble and learned lord, at one time at the head
of his profession, whose anxiety in debate was invariably evinced
by a remarkable distortion of the features. Such are the causes
of all nervous j)eculiarities, and such are the circumstances of ag-
gravation which throw persons, afflicted with St. Vitus's dance,
into hideous contortions, or excite in the susceptible female the
hysteric paroxysm. In a more partial manner the same effect is
produced when the attention is forcibly directed to any part, to
which, in the hinguaf^c of the older physiologists, the animal
spirits then immediately crowd, inducing either an exalted state
of the sensibility, or some unwonted and irregular actions of the
motive powers. Thus cramp, as every one knows, is greatly pro-
moted by this means, as also the tremulous shaking of the hands
in operations of extreme delicacy, resembling, not indistinctly, a
transient paralysis agitans. Cases of perverted sensibility, to
be referred to the same principle, and dependent on a highly
mobile state of the nervous system, not untrequently occur, and
by simulating the symptoms of serious organic lesions, are ex-
tremely perplexing to the physician. A man, for example, reads
a medical book, and forthwith fancies that he is affected with
some fearful malady ; or, it may be, he has exposed himself to
some source of infection, and, being of an apprehensive tempera-
ment, immediately imagines that ne is suffering from the first
symptoms of the complaint. Cases of the following kind con-
stantly occur in practice. A delicate female has watched, we
will suppose, with anxious and unremitting solicitude, tlie unre-
lenting progress of disease in some female friend, so as seriously
to impair the general strength of her constitution. She now feels
a pain in one of her sides, at first of a transient and slight nature,
but, as her apprehensions on the subject increase, of a more {)er-
manent and severe character; attended, it may be, with some
appearances of thickening, or even of distinct, tumour. Now, in
ill such a case, nothing but the strongest assurances of safety from
an ex|H*rienced surgtH)n, aided bv such means as are calculated

v2

212 Meamerkmi — or Animal Magnetism. [Jan.

to invigorate the general health, will remove the apprehensions of
the patient, or dissipate her painful sensations. So great, indeed,
are the mutual influences of mind and body on each other, in the
animal economy, that we are by no means prepared to say that
the former may not even exert an influence over the interior
organization of the latter, so as actually to produce organic dis-
ease, or to cure it, being present- But, be this as it may, it may
be considered as certain, that a strong persuasion of mind, induced
either by magical spells, or, as formerly, by the royal touch, has
been suflicient, in many cases, to cure diseases which had resisted
all ordinary means ; whilst the question in regard to mother-spots
and other congenital malformations, does not seem to have been
yet completely decided in the negative. The influence of the
mind, in disturbing the operations of general health, is matter of
familiar observation, and has given rise to an important question
in medical ethics, viz. how far it is proper or justifiable in a
physician to inform his patient of the full extent of his danger,
and, thereby, induce a state of mental depression which may
greatly aggravate his disorder. Leaving, however, such specula-
tions, as irrevelant, we have said enough to explain some veiy
curious phenomena, which we shall now proceed, without farther
observation, to relate.

A lady was magnetized for ten minutes, by various passex over
the face and shoulders. She was not set to sleep, but she ex-
perienced a bruised sensation in the muscles of the arms, which
continued, more or less, for upwards of twenty-four hours after-
wards.

Two medical men, suffering from partial paralysis of one side
of the face, were magnetized several times by Du Potet. In one
of these cases no effect was produced, but in the other the face
was forcibly drawn to the paralysed side. The gentleman, how-
ever, in whom this occurred, said that the same eff*ect was pro-
duced by any cause of anxiety, especially when he was at a loss
for expression in the delivery of public lectures.

A young lady, suffering from hysteric paralysis of the thigh,
experienced evident twitches and even considerable retraction of
the muscles of that side, during the course of mjignetization.

Mr. John Hunter, the celebrated physiologist, relates, that
being invited to be magnetized, he was reluctant to obey the in-
vitation, fearing lest a state of anxiety should bring on a state of
spasm, to which he was habitually subject, so that this should be
ascribed to animal magnetism. To prevent this effect he adopted
the following expedient : —

" I was convinced," he says, " by the apparatus that everything was
calculated to affect the imagination. When the magnctizer began his

1888.] Mesmerism^ — vr Animal Magnetism. 213

operations, and informed mo that I sliould feel it first at the roots of my
nails of that hand nearest the apparatus, I fixed my attention on my
great toe, where I was wishing to have a fit of the gout : and I am con-
fident that I can fix my attention to any part until I have a sensation
in that part. Whenever I found myself attending to his tricks, I fell
to work with my great toe, by which means I prevented it having any
effect."— /forXs i. 337.

The production of tlie hysteric paroxysm, either fully, or in
that iniperfwt form which consists in fits of laughing, crying,
garrulity, or tossing about of the arms, is by no means an un-
common event, either on the person imme<liately magnetized, or
on those who happen to be spectators : but it requires no second
Daniel to divine the cause of this phenomenon, without resorting
to the dispersion of a magnetic aiira^ or to the supposition of
the vital principle being mine en pliui, to account for it. As to
the person herself who forms the immediate subject of the ex-
|)eriment, we cannot wonder that she should be thrown into a
{)eculiar state of mental excitement, when we reflect that imme-
diately before her, within a few inches of her person, is seated
the magnetizer, of the other sex, intently gazing into her face,
and |)erforming his mysterious manipulations amidst profound
silence and a crowd of anxious spectators. Our surprise rather
is, that any young creature should Ih> found capable of enduring
80 severe a test, without the exhibition of some symptoms of
nervousness, especially if she happen to be endued with any true
delicacy of feeling. The illustrious Mesmer, that " man of
wonders," as he is emphatically styled by Du Potet, adapted his
various means with far more sagacity than the moderns. To him
the depths and shallows of the human mind were far more in-
timately known, and his success was proportionably greater than
any that we now hear of. Here, all was pomp and mystical
parade. To luxurious saloons, surrounded with cabalistical pre-
parations, were added the blandishments of music and a soft
delicious light. The patients were directed to form a chain, as
is frequently done when a number of persons receive together
the electric shock, by holding each other re8j)ectively by the
thumb or fore finger, while one or more assistants, generally of
distinfftt^ appearance, performed the magnetic operations, con-
sisting, for the most part, of various waving motions performed
by a wand, and prolonged talonneniens of the person. " On
agissait encore sur les malades en les regardant fixement ; et
surtout en pres>t<int avec les mains les diverses regions, du has
r^ntre, manipulation quelquefois continuee pendant des hcures
enti^res." Allowing every credit for Platonism and purity to

214 Mesmerism^ — or Animal Magnei'vim. [Jan,

the illustrious inventor of such philosophic devices, can we be
surprised that such scenes should often terminate in scandal,
especially among an assembly of fashionable ennuyees, collected
together for the pure purpose of excitement; or that public in-
dignation, outraged by such proceedings, should at length rise
to such height as to compel the injured author to quit Paris

Erecipitately ? " Serious causes," as Du Potet admits, " were
rought before the tribunals, in which magnetism had been
employed as a means of abusing the confidence of respectable
persons."

The occurrence of the magnetic, or, more properly, of the
hysteric paroxysm, among any of the magic circle described above,
was generally followed by a succession of similar exhibitions.
These the operator, with the same kindly consideration for his
patient, had removed to an adjoining apartment, (the Crisis
ChamberJi appropriated to this purpose, where for hours in
succession they underwent the solicitous and renovating atten-
tions of his youthful disciples. Here, then, was another circum-
stance of equivocal construction, which the world, always ill-
natured and disposed to view with envy the successes of genius,
misinterpreted to the disadvantage of Mesmer.

It is the property, more or less, of all diseases, but eminently
so of those which affect the nervous system, to facilitate their own
recurrence, and, consequently, the magnetizer may calculate, with
tolerable certainty, on a repetition of the effects of his art on those
who are his attached and customary patients. It is generally
contrived that some of these shall be present on occasions of public
exhibition, which both ensure success to the experiment, and ope-
rate as an example to others. Our readers will not require to be
reminded of the incalculable influence of imitation in the ordinary
economy of life, in the education of children, and in the propaga-
tion and transmission of habits ; but great as this may be, it is
not less manifest in the propagation of disease, especially of the
nervous kind. The late Dr. Gregory used to relate the occurrence
of an epidemic hysteria in the wards of the Edinburgh Infirmary,
which was only eradicated by the preparation of hot irons and
chafing dishes in all the wards of the institution, with strict in-
junctions to employ them on any new case that occurred. We
need not add that the manoeuvre was perfectly successful. Un-
aided by external motives, hysteria is not always to be resisted,
any more than yawning ; nay, to so great a degree has this prin-
ciple sometimes been carriea, that it has been found necessary to
enact public indignities to suppress a suicidal mania. Such, also,
are the principles on which we should explain the existence of

1838.] Mesmerlnrii — or Animal Magnetism. 215

various sects of religionists, as the Jumpers, Irvingites, &c.,
wtiich deform, like gross excrescences, the pure face of Chris-
tianity, and expose it to the contempt and jibes of infidels.

So much, then, fur the augmentation of the motive and sensa-
tive powers during magnetization. Let us now reverse the pic-
ture, and contemplate their diminution : and here we shall gratify
our readers with an extract from Dr. Elliotson, relating the ex-
ploits of M. Chevenix at St. Thomas's Hospital, in 1829.

"Ho (Dr. Elliotson) took him (M. Chevenix) to St. Thomas's
Hospital, to try its efiects on some nervous patients, in whose cases it
is said to do most good. He (Dr. Eiliutson) was not satisfied with its
effects on any but one patient, and in tliat instance the results were so
extraordinary, that he felt convinced it was a subject not altogether to
be laughed at. The patient was an ignorant Irish girl, who had never
seen or heard of the gentleman. She was brought into a private room,
and the manipulation commenced ; in a minute or two she begged that
he would not go on, as she said it produced " great weakness io her,"
and a pain in the abdomen. This pain went off when a transverse
motion was made over the part. He did not infer much from this, for
he thought this effect might be merely imaginary ; but when the mani-
pulator suddenly darted his open hand upon her arm, and she suddenly
lost the power of it, which was again as suddenly restored by a few
transverse motions ; and when he showed the same effect on the other
arm, and also on the leg, and produced the same results when the girl's
eyes were closed, he began to be staggered. On one occasion too,
while she was in this state, the operator placed a very small piece of
paper on one of her feet, and then she could not raise that foot, but
after a few transverse motions had been made, she raised it easily. This
occurred again and again. He was satisfied there was no deception
there. He was astonished at these effects and when asked if he was
satisfied, he did not say at first either yes or no ; he was almost ashamed
to say that he was not. He was fully satisfied that there was something
more than imagination in these cases. He believed in what he should
call Mesmerism — he was never ashamed to declare what he believed.
He had little respect for authority, and when he saw facts like those he
had observed, he must believe them." — Lancet, No. 732, p. 871.

Now in the records of Mesmerism and these no scanty ones,
(for, according to the boast of our great modern apostle of the
doctrine, *' upwards of five hundred publications on the subject
appeared within eighteen months" and deluged the city of Paris)
such relations are common : —

" Thick as leaves in Vallombrosa."
Of the accuracy of these facts we shall sneak presently, but
admitting them for a moment to be genuine, let us examine wha
explanation can be offered.

Volition, as is well known, is that faculty of the mind which is

216 Mesmerism, — or Animal Magnetiimi. [Jan.

formed from a comparison of the various motives suggested to
our choice, and is exerted to carry into effect some mental or
bodily act, consequent upon this selection. Judgment and voli-
tion are the supreme arbiters or governing powers of the mind,
requiring, hov^^ever, for their full manifestation, a perfect state of
the material organs through whose instrumentaUty they are
developed, and consequently liable to frequent irregularities. The
former may be overpowered by some sudden emotion, and the
latter may be inchoate from some transient inactivity of the
brain. We apprehend that there are few persons who have not
at one period or another experienced that condition of tlie rea-
soning faculty, which has been popularly termed " waking
sleep" or " waking dreams," or that imbecility of the will, which
leads persons to say that " they feel as if they could not move."
But in nightmare, and more particularly in the intermediate state
between sleeping and waking, it is most frequently observed, and
it is also not unfrequently manifested in disease — not that it is
altogether extinct in such cases, but of insufficient intensity to
accomplish the desired object. Sir Benjamin Brodie, in his
publication on Local Nervous Affections, and particularly on
hysterical paralysis of the limbs, observes with great trutli that
*'it is not that the muscles are incapable of obeying the act of
volition, but that the function of volition is not exercised." (p. 48.)
We conclude, therefore, that whatever is capable of exciting or
concentrating the hysteric sensibility, may equally affect the
voluntary powers, and that all the talk about magnetic agency
is nothing better than nonsense. Such phenomena as these, how-
ever, are we believe extremely rare, unless, indeed, we ourselves
have lapsed into that magnetic state of mental imbecility of
which we have just been speaking.

We shall now introduce some observations from the Report
on Animal Magnetism, presented to the Roijal Academy of
Medicine at Paris, on August the 8th and 22nd, 1837, by a
commission, composed of nine of the most distinguished phy-
sicians and surgeons of Paris, eminent for their various scientific
attainments, and representatives of contrary opinions on the dis-
tinct questions at issue. A more admirable union of men, of
varied pursuits, of talent, and of judgment, with less predomi-
nant prejudice, peculiar notions or theories of their own to sup-
port, could scarcely have been found. The following, in the
words of the Report, contains an irrefragable voucher for its
impartiality.

" With our various ideas," say they, "for and against, no difference,
as you will perceive, has arisen among us, on the facts of which we
have bceu wituesses ; with our varied propensities to consider facts in

1838.] MeftmerisMy — or Animal Magnethsm. 217

particular aspects, we have been unanimous in each of our concIu«
sions. You will find, ])erlia|>f(, in this a new warrant of their truth ;
for it was necessary that the facts submitted to our examination should
have very strong positive or negative evidence, to induce every time a
constant unanimity among commissioners always at issue on the theo>
retic value of animal magnetism." — Medical Gazftte, xx. 954.

M. Berna, the niagnetizer on this occasion, who had chal-
lenged the Academy to the scrutiny, and offere<i to substantiate
the proofs of his doctrines, was allowed to choose his own agents.
No objection, therefore, can reasonably be urged on tiie account
that the proper conditions were not present in the subjects of his
exi)eriments, while none on the other hand have been produced
against M. Berna as a skilful adept in the art and a fit represen-
tative of the sect. We, for our parts, are not so simple as to sup-
pose that the Mesmerists as a body will accept so inefficient a
champion, or have any difficulty in escaping from the dilenuna in
which he has placed them ; although in this matter we may be
allowed to say that we consider that they have shown far less
wisdom than their compeers, the phrenologists; for rushing on
to the victory they have never contemplated the possibility of
retreat; and despising the shifts and counteracting bumps, behind
which these latter safely lodge themselves, exclaim " there's no
more valour in that Poins, than in a wild duck."

The pretensions of M. Berna on this occasion far exceeded
those of M. Chevenix; by the mere tacit intervention of his
will, oi)erating through a brick wall, and altogether discarding
the mummery of the magnetic passes, he professed to paraly/e
any part of the body of nis patient ; or she being already in a
state of somnambulism, to reverse these effects and reinstate the
parts in the T)ossession of their normal faculties. However, he
did not entirely forget certain restrictions under which these
experiments were to be performed; as, for instance, that the face
should be covered, and every other part of the body except the
hands and neck, so as to conceal all the evidences of painful
impressions resulting from the mute language of expression ;
and, stHTondly, that the commissioners were not to be permitted
to pinch or scratch the jMiralyzed parts, or to test them by the
contact of any body either on fire or of a slightly raised tempe-
rature, but only by the insertion of needles half a line in depth.
It is obvious, therefore, that no means remained of verifying the
assertions of the patient and that dieir falsehoo<l could be
ascertained only by placing them in contradiction to those
of the operator. And, accordingly, when Monsieur Bouillaud
re(|uesled M. Berna, in writing, to paralyze the right arm
only of tiie girl, and, when this was done, to indicate it to him

218 Mesmerism, — ar Animal Magnetism. [Jan'

by closing his eyes, the right leg was found to be paralyzed
as well as the right arm, and so on in a number of other
instances.

" As it had been impossible," the Report observes, " to prove to us
experimentally that the operator had removed the sensibility or isolated
it in the girl, it was equally impossihle to prove the restitution of it ;
and, besides, the result of the facts observed, was that all the trials
made for the purpose completely failed. The somnambulist accused
every thing but that which had been announced. You know, that for
the verification we were restricted to the assertions of the somnamhulist.
Certainly, when she affirmed to the commissioners that she could not
move the left leg, (for instance) it was no proof to them that that
limb was magnetically paralyzed ; but then, again, what she said did
not agree with the pretensions of the magnetizer; so that from all
this, there resulted assertions without proofs, in opposition to other
assertions equally without proofs.

" What we have said of the abolition and restitution of sensibility
may be completely applied to the pretended abolition and restitution
of motion : not the slightest proof was given of it to us." — Medical
Gazette, xx. 955.

We pass over altogether the pretensions of this conjuror to
deprive or restore the organs of the senses or those of deglutition
and speech ; for, upon being put upon his trial, the answers of
his patient were uniformly found to be in opposition to those of
his will ; or what is more to the purpose in complete inde-
pendence of it. We need not add that the Baron's attempts of
the same kind made in this country have invariably shared
the same fate. We shall therefore leave this part of our sub-
ject and pass on to other phenomena of a still more extraordinary
nature.

The Baron Du Potet is a firm believer in clairvoyance, and
the transposition of the senses ; and, although he does not con-
descend to peril his faith on this subject, by reference to his own
practice, but on the contrary professes " entire ignorance of the
law which regulates the pi'oduction of the phenomena of som-
nambulic vision," and acknowledges that " it has been his fate,
also, not to be always successful ;" yet he has favoured us with a
number of picked cases from the most authentic records of the
art, alleging that these "are cases of vision without the aid of
eyes, attested by men of education," and " selected from many
others, because the greater number of those who witnessed them
are living, and hold at this day a distinguished rank in the
faculty of medicine at Paris, or in the scientific world." We
shall extract for the edification of our readers a specimen or two
of these marvels. The two first are cited from a memoir of M.
Franccjeur, in which Drs. Delpit and Despinc are the relators, and

\

18S8.] Mesmeristth — or Animal Mngnetism. 219

the two last from the Gazette de Sant^, September 1829, antl
the Gazette Midicale de Paris, October 1832.

" We have seen her (a young lady of Grenoble, in a state of som-
nambulism) select from a packet of more than thirty letters, that one
amongst them M'hich had been directed to her. She read on the
dial-plate and through the glass, the hour indicated by a watch ; we
have seen her write several letters ; correct, on reading them over, the
mistakes she had made ; and recopy one of the letters word for word.
During all these operations, a screen of thick pasteboard entirely inter-
cepted every visual ray which could possibly have reached her eyes.
The same phenomena took place at the soles of her feet, and at the
pit of the stomach.

" Five years ago, a young person from the department of I* A rdeche,
having come to IVIontpellier to consult the physicians there, respectinj^
an hyterical affection accompanied by catalepsy, presented an instance
of a very strange phenomenon. She felt, during the attacks, such a
concentration of sensibility towards the pnecordial region, that the
organs of the senses were as if entirely fixed there. She referred to
her stomach all the sensations of sight, hearing, and smell, which were
then no longer produced by the usual organs."

We may observe, by tlie way, that our worthy Baron, tiiough
he does not cite any of his own exploits, makes himself fully
responsible for those of his friends, when he says, that " these
cases are recent, and of such a nature, as to render deception
respecting them impossible. Here are testimonies rendered by
living authors, above all suspicion of imposture." Proceed we,
however, with our otlier two cases.

" A person called Petronille Leclerc, twenty-six years of age, a
sempstress, had been admitted into La Charite, to be treated for a cere-
bral affection, accompanied with spasms of an epileptic character : of a
very nervous constitution, pale, exhausted by former sufferings, and
excessively irritable. The idea occurred to M. Sabine, to try the
effect of magnetism. At the first sitting, the sonuiainbulist gave
several proofs of lucidity. The person who magnetized her, presented
some objects to her, such as a pliial with its contents, some sugar, and
also some bread, each of M'hicit she described perfectly, without see-
ing them, for she had a bandage over her eyes. Without being interro-
gated, she said to the person who held her hand, ' you l:ave a head-
ache.* This was true, but in order to test her knowledge, the pupil
answered her that she was mistaken. ' That is strange,' rcsume<l she,
' I touched some one, then, that had a head-ache, for I felt it distinctly.'
One of the most remarkable circumstances is the following : — the
magnetizer had retired, promising her, that he would return about half
part five, to awaken her. lie anticipated the hour of his return, and
the somnambulist remarked to him that it was not half-past five. He
replied, that a letter which he had just received had obliged him to
return to h«'r. ' .\h ! yes,' said she iinnudiately, ' it is that letter

i?20 Mesmerism, — or Animal Magnetism. [Jan.

which you have in your pocket-book, between a blue card and a yellow
one.' It was found to be exactly as she had stated it. A watch was
placed behind the occiput, (back of the head), and she was asked what
o'clock it was. * Six minutes past four ' It was seven minutes past
four."

" There is at present under consideration, at the hospital Delia Vita,
at Bologna, a very extraordinary phenomenon of animal magnetism.
A patient in that hospital is seized every three days, at precisely eleven
o'clock of the morning, with so violent a convulsion, that he entirely
loses the faculty of perceiving sensations ; sight, hearing, smell, disap-
pear completely ; the organs of the senses no longer perform any func-
tions ; both his hands are clenched so fast that it is impossible to open
them ; if force were employed, his fingers would infallibly be broken.
Dr. Cini, however, son of the painter, who attends him, has discovered,
after long and attentive observations, the epigastrium, ( pit of the stomach ),
at the distance of about two fingers length above the umbilicus (navel)
received, during the convulsive crisis, all the perceptions of the senses.
If the patient is spoken to, the epigastrium being touched at the
same time, he answers, and, if ordered, he opens his hands of him-
self. If any substance is placed upon the epigastrium, he describes its
smell, quality, and form. During the contact of the finger, the con-
vulsion continually diminishes, and seems to disappear ; but if the
finger is placed upon the heart, the convulsion is again produced, and
lasts as long as the finger is kept in that situation. If a flute be played
on, the epigastrium being touched at the same time, the patient hears
the music ; and when, without interrupting the performance on the
instrument, the finger is removed for a moment from the epigastrium,
carried towards the heart, and immediately brought back to the epi-
gastrium, he asks why the nmsic is suspended at intervals." — Medical
Gazelle, xxi, 498, et seq.

We remember in our boyish days reading Tlie Arabian
Nights' Entertainments ; we have heard of the marvels of second
sight, of the astonishing feats of the Indian jugglers, of the ma-
chinations of witchcraft, of the oracles of the Sybils, and of the still
more extraordinary wonders of the Egyptian Psylli, recorded by
Mr. Lane, which, if true, come nothing short ot diabolism; but
in truth, the magic of Mesmerism beats all these hollow. In
all our "dealings with witches and with conjurers," we have met
with no wonders like these. In this as in every other effort of
imagination or intellect, the ancients must unquestionably yield
the palm of superiority to the moderns.

We confess ourselves not a little pleased with the reflection,
that such trash has received little encouragement in this country.
We have conversed witli Mr. Mayo and Dr. Sigmond on the
subject, and they both repudiate this part of the doctrine. Dr.
Elliotson, indeed, although he professes that these details go be-
yond what he has ever seen, hangs fire on the point ; and

18S8.] Mesmerism^ — or Animnt Magnetiwi. 221

says, " Whether to believe these things or not, he does not
know, but is determined to see for himself, before he passes
judgment on any of them;" notwithstanding that some have
gone even the length of asserting, that patients, besides seeing
with the pits of their stomachs, have seen also with their elbows;
while others have described the topography of Paris, though
tliey had never been there. Others again have talked strange
languages, though they knew nothing about them when awake;
and others have foretold future events. Du Fotet, in explanation of
his own failures, ascribes them to the discomposure of his tem-
per, produced by the incredulity of his spectators, in consequence
of which the state of excitement thus induced was communicated
to his patients, whose hearts beat tumultuously in unison with
his own ; but, " when I operated," he says, " on a somnambu-
list in silence and recneillement, and liad around me only
inoffensive persons, who were ignorant of that which was about
♦o be produced, or who awaited it without sus|>ecting my motives,
I was calm and tranquil; the action of my own being {cfe mon
etre) upon the somnambulist, was almost as regular as that of a
machine, and what passed in the somnambulist was equally so ;" —
according, it will be observed, closely with the effects produced
by Mesmer himself, as described by Du Potet. " But what
was most surprising was, the prodigious influence possessed by
the magnetizer over his patients. An intimation of his will
excited or calmed the convulsions ; commanded love or hatred ;
his rod seemed like a nicigic instrument, to which body and spirit
yielded obedience." In a conversation which we lately had with

Dr. H , a warm partisan of these doctrines, he explained to

us, that the sensibility of the tips of the fingers (such being the
visual organs pro tempore) being greatly exalted, were capable
of appreciating the vibrations of a subtle fluid which passed be-
tween them and the printed letters of the page, and thus enabled
the party to read ! ! f

But we should be sorry that our readers took any thing upon
our bare assertion. Respecting the transference or exaltation
of the senses, there are two modes of viewing the subject :
either we may dispute the fact as matter of testimony, or we
may reason upon the physical impossibility of such events taking
place agreeably to the establishecf course of nature. If this last
position is proved, then no evidence short of that required to
establish a miracle can possibly be admitted.

According to the present conditions of our being, our senses
are the only organs by which we are brought into relation with
the external world. Each of these having its appropriate object,
light to the eye, vibrations to the ear, sapid bodies to the tastey

222 Mesmeriam, — or Animal Mngnethm. [Jan.

&c. It is absolutely a contradiction in terms, to say that the
colour of objects can be distinguished without light, or tiiat their
form can be discerned without this medium being previously
modified, so as to represent the object of vision. And even
though these obstacles should be removed, yet it is directly in
the teeth of every physiological fact, to suppose that a nerve of
common sensation can vicariously perform the functions of a
nerve of sense, or that the nerves of one sense can stand in the
place of those of any other. We affirm, then, that the pre-
tended fact of clairvoyavce, when light is excluded from the
eye by a well-tied bandage, is absolutely impossible, on two
grounds, and highly improbable on a third. By a figure of
speech, persons may be said to see and hear when they dream ;
but they also speak and fight, and do sundry other acts in this
state, which, however, are merely acts of the imagination. We
are aware also, that individual senses may become exalted to an
extraordinary degree, in savages and blind persons, but never
so as actually to replace other organs, or if so, in a limited
degree, — and only after long education and use. The question
has been put to us, " Where is the soul during sleep ? May
it not flutter round the body, and thus take cognizance of every
thing about it?" Such questions are foolish ones, and have no
bearing on this matter; for we have no experience, even on this
supposition, that the soul or mind of man can be brought into
relation with the external world, except through the medium of
the senses.

With respect to the other point, we are not in the habit of
applying hard names, and therefore, instead of calling the re-
porters of such tales charlatans, we shall believe them upon the
same principle we should believe a man who asserted his nose to
be a teapot, or his brain a litter of young sucking pigs. " Je le
crois," said M. Velpeau to M. J. Cloquet on this subject,
" parceque vous I'avez vu ; mais si je I'avais vu, moi, je ne le
croirais pas." The present question forcibly reminds us of the
problem submitted by Charles II to the Royal Society: " Why
a vessel, being full of water, did not overflow when a number of
live fish were put into it?" The question was the subject of
much iliscussion, but was proved by the experiment to be a lie.
Let us, then, submit the fact of clairvoyance to the same test;
and here, " Ecce iterum Crispinus !" we shall reintroduce our
late friend, M. Berna, to the reader.

At the second sitting — April 5, 1837 — of the French commis-
sion, M. Berna had prepared on one of the tables of his apartments,
apack of blankandapack of playing cardsof the same size. Address-
ing the reporter, he asked him aloud, and without leaving his intimate

18S8.] Mesmeriftnii — or Anhnal Magnetism. 228

relation with the somnambulist, to take a playing card, and place
it at her occiput. " Is it to be a court card?" asked the reporter.
" As you please," answered M. Berna. But the thought struck
him, and, unknown to M. Berna, he took a blank card, and
then placing himself behind the patient, he held the blank card
to her occiput. The report goes on to say —

** The magnetizer, seated before her, magnetized with all his force.
The Romnambulist was interrogated, — hesitated, — made efforts, and said
she saw a card ; but the magnetizer was not, any more than we, con-
tented with so little. He asked her M-hat she remarked on tl»e card?
She hesitated, and tlien said there was black and red.

** The commission let M. Berna continue his manoeuvres and his
solicitations, that he might clear what still appeared very confused
before the woman's transferred sense, and which as yet consisted only
of a little black and red. After some fruitless essays, the magnetizer,
undoubtedly but ill satisfied with the functions of the transferred visual
sense, invited the reporter to pass his card before the head of the som-
nambulist, close to the band covering her eyes : this was, it may be
said, changing the terms of the question, and even of the magnetic
doctrine; it was giving up the transposition of the senses, to substitute
clairvoyance through a bandage. But it mattered little. The reporter
passed the card as the magnetizer M'ished, but he took care to pass it
quickly, and so that M. Berna might suppose he saw only the naturally
white back of the card, while the coloured part was turned towanis the
somnambulist's bandage.

"The card once in this new position, the magnetizer continued his
manoeuvres, and solicited the somnambulist. She confessed that she
saw the can! better ; then added, hesitating, that she saw a figure.
New urging from M. Berna, — new solicitations ! The somnambulist,
on her part, seemed making great efforts. After some trials,
she declared plainly that she saw a knave !! (rather equivocal by the
bye.) But this was not all : it remained to say what knave, for there
are four. Proceeding, M-ithout doubt, by way of elimination, she
answered her magnetizer that there was black by the side of the
knave. Still this was not all : there are two knaves M'ith black at
their sides. New urging by the magnetizer, — new efl'orts by the som-
nambulist,— new and protracted attention by the commissioners. At last
she has it. — It is the knave of clubs !

" M. Berna, thinking the experiment finished, took the card from the
reporter's hands, and in presence of all the commissioners, saw and
assured himself that it was entirely blank."

Ex una disce omnes. Many similar experiments were tried,
but all with the same effect. The pretensions to clairvoyance
and transference of the sight were equally defeated by this simple
experiment, while the poor unfortunate magnetizer had not even
the ordinary refuge of this slipjiery sect, by averring, that under
many circumstances, the best somnambulists lose their lucidity ;

224 Mesmerism^ — or Animal MatpietlsDi. [Jan.

for if so, how should so minute a description have been given of
the various objects presented to her ? To some questions she
undoubtedly answered approximately, having much natural ad-
dress, and availing herself of such incidental clues as were let
drop to her by accident. Practised fortune-tellers often, in the
same way, make very successful hits, from following up minute
indications, which escape ordinary observation. There is a law,
though certainly not a very defined one, which regulates the
coexistence of certain qualities of mind, as well as of certain
functions in the body, in the same individual organism, from
which, any one of these being given, an experienced person may,
without much difficulty, construct the whole character. Ex
pede Hercidem. Cuvier did this with marvellous felicity in
respect to some of the antediluvian animals, small fragments only
of which were at that time discovered ; and Spurzheim has not
disdained, in his Phrenology in Relation to Phyaiognomy^ to
inculcate the same truth, and even to lay down a series of classi-
fications of this sort. We would put it also to the dexterous cross
examiner, whether the secret of his art does not mainly consist in
the tact with which he discovers, and the skill with which he uses,
these accidental discoveries. We shall explain ourselves by re-
lating the following anecdote.

A celebrated quack in the north, who had amassed an enormous
fortune, was one day accompanied by a distinguished physician,
who was curious to ascertain the real secret of his popularity.
A woman was introduced, who brought to him a phial contain-
ing the water of her husband. He examined the phial very
attentively, and then proceeded himself to describe the symptoms
under which the poor man laboured, and the remedies which
would be necessary for his cure. He was dyspeptic, costive,
had a constant pain in his stomacli, was weak and pallid, was
too much in the habit of stooping, and took too little exercise.
He was desired to drink no spirits, to get more into the open air,
to abate somewhat of his work, to take opening medicine, and
to live more generously. A few pills were thrown in to boot.
Upon being questioned whether he knew the party, or whether
this was not all guess-work, he replied in the negative. " Did
you observe," he said, " the appearance of the wife, and the
nature of the phial ? By the former, I was assured that the
husband was extremely poor, and by the latter, which was
secured by a piece of listing and a cobbler's end, that he was a
shoemaker by trade. If poor, then, he probably lived in a low
damp shed, had insufficient nutriment, and was too unremittingly
at his work. If a cobbler, then, that the constant pressure of
the last against his stomach produced a constant pain in the

1888.] Afesmeritm^ — or Animal Magnetism. 9%5

or;;cin, and all tlie consequences of indigestion." Every one,
if he pleases, may follow tne same course. We have all heard,
and we, for our parts, can readily believe in their truth, the
extraordinary opinions which Dr. rrout has been able to deliver
from the simple inspection of the same secretion ; not, as in the
former case, from external combinations, but from a scientific
deduction of what must necessarily be the effect of a derange-
ment of so important an organ as the kidney upon all the others
of tlie system. An attention to these circumstances would, we
apprehend, lay ojien a great deal of the mystery which has at
different times baffled the world.

But this has been accused as a utilitarian age, and the English
nation as a matter-of-fact people. Let us, therefore, come at
once to the question of Cui bono ? As journalists, whose office
it is to represent " the very age and body of the time, his form
and pressure," we should ill fulfil our duty if we omitted this
view of the subject, — especially after the declaration of Du Potet,
that " tlie majority of the scientific world well know that the
discovery of Mesmer is a truth worthy of the greatest interest,
for that it is destined to work the greatest changes in the systems
of philosophy and medicine." Nay more, that it is destined to
" operate a considerable modification of our morals, and a com-
plete modification of our organization." We should be wholly
mexcusable, therefore, if we failed to trace these regenerative
influences.

Animal magnetism, then, has been extolled as a remedial, and
also as a moral agent ; under both which points of view we shall
briefly consider it. The Mesmerists are pleased to expatiate on
the newly acquired force and energy of the intelligential faculty
during the somnambulic state. '1 he somnambulist, say they,
has a jK'rfect view of the whole interior organization of the
body, and perceives not only what is out of order, but how
that should be rectified— not sees only, but actually feels the
disordered state of another's body ; nay, so great is the sympathy
of persons brought into the magnetic rapport, that should the
magnetizer take snuff, the magnetizee will sneeze — should the
fornier be deaf, or blind, the latter will participate in these infir-
mities. A clairvoyante brought into rapport with any absent
jMjrson by the will of the magnetizer, will be able absolutely to
see through the former a thousand miles off, and tell not only
what he is doing at the present moment, or what he has done in
time past, but what he will do for the future, or what will be his
fate hereafter. In the words of the Comte de Redern, "a dis-
tinguished man of science," cited by Du Potet —

" He has a kind of sight, which may be called internal, that of the
VOL. IV. — NO. VII. Q

226 Mesmerism, — or Animal Miiynetistn. [Jan.

organization of his own bodj', of that of his magnetizer, and of the
persons with whom he is placed in relation ; he perceives the different
parts of them, but in succession only, and according as he directs his
attention to them ; he distinguishes their structure, form, and colour.
He experiences a painful reaction of the sufferings of the persons with
whom he is in relation ; he perceives their diseases, foresees their crisis,
has a perception of the suitable remedies, and not unfrequently of the
medicinal properties of the substances presented to him."

"Magnetic persons," M. Husson observes, " have a lucidity which
gives them positive ideas of the nature of their diseases, of the manner
in which persons put-in relation with them are affected, and of the mode
of treatment employed in such cases." — Medical Gazette, xxi. ^Gi.

Now as the two primary difficulties in the practice of physic
consist in the discernment of the true nature of the complaint, and
the appropriate remedies, physicians, of course, will eagerly em-
brace this new auxiliary of the art. Dr. Elliotson, the Professor
of Medicine at the London University, although he does not openly
avouch his belief of these things, yet by the citation of examples
of the mind's energizing during sleep, evidently leans to the
following sentiment of Du Potet's : viz. " that individuals plunged
into somnambulism have a particular mode of existence, senses
peculiar to that condition, a distinct memory, and an intelligence
more active than in the waking state." We are told for example
of the education of a German youth being conducted during his
sleep — ofa man who threshed out and winnowed his rye witn his
eyes shut — of Dr. Haycock, Professor of Medicine at Oxford, who
was famous for his hypnotic sermons — of an American lady who
amazed all her friends by her nocturnal eloquence in the same
department — and of the Khubla Khan, a fragmental poem of
Mr. Coleridge, which owed its birth to a long sleep. " If," says
Dr. Elliotson, "this could occur in common sleep, why in diseased
sleep might not cases like those recorded above occur ?" Finally,
a case is quoted from Dr. Abercrombie, sufficiently curious in
itself, and we have no doubt perfectly genuine, but by no means
bearing on the present question. It was that of a poor girl,
who looked after cattle at a farmer's, and slept in a room often
occupied by an itinerant fiddler of great skill, and addicted to
playing refined pieces at night, but his performance was taken
notice of by her only as a disagreeable noise. She fell ill, and
was removed to the house ofa benevolent lady, whose servant she
became. Some years after this she had fits of sleep-waking, in
which, after being two hours in bed, she became restless, and
began to mutter, and, after uttering sounds precisely like the
tuning ofa violin, would make a prelude, and then dash off into
elaborate pieces of music, most clearly and accurately, and with
the most delicate modulation. She sometimes stopped, made the

1838.] Mesmerismy — or Animal Magnetism. 227

sound of tuning her instrument, and bej^an exactly where she left
off. Many other like things are recordetl of the same person. But
who that has examined the workings of his own mind will doubt
that such examples are to be referred to the imagination, or more
frequently to the faculty of memory ? the activity of which is
often preter-nalurally excited by some trivial circumstance,
more especially in dreams. Thus, under the influence of opium,
" the minutest incidents of childhood, or forgotten scenes of later
years, were revived. I could not be said to recollect them, for if
I had been told of them waking, I should not have been able to
acknowledge them as part of my j)ast experience ; but placed, as
they were, before me in dreams like intuition, and clotlied in all
their evanescent circumstances and accompanying feelings, I recog-
nized them instantaneously." {Opium Kuter, p. 161.) We have
often thought that such conditions of the mind may not inaptly
represent that more perfect and enlarged recollection of events
which shall attend us ui the great day of retribution. In conse-
quence of the absence of external |)erceptions in sleep, the ideas
and associations of the mind acquire an overpowering vividness,
which leads us to mistake them for realities ; while the abolition
of judgment and volition permits the iniagination to revel in its
own creations under the simple gui<iance of association.

The instances of the faculties of judgment or volition being
exercised, even in a partial degree, during sleep, are compara-
tively rare occurrences.

Among the more direct therapeutic advantages of Mesmerism
we might adduce the case rejwrted by Dr. Elliotson of ecstatic
delirium, cured by this means at the North London Hospital ;
for it is in the various diseases of the nervous system, as Hysteria,
Hypochondriacism, Melancholia, &c., that this new agent is
thought to be most efficacious. " In such diseases," observes
M. Du Potet, " some unknown organs still retain sensibility ;
they serve as a last entrenchment of life. It is into this retreat
that the magnetic fluid would probably penetrate, to reanimate
nature, and supply the stimulus required to awaken it, with more
certainty than any of the known agents." But as our space
is limited we prefer dealing in the gross. M. Alfred Fillassier,
in a thesis read before the faculty of medicine, at Paris, on the
80th of August, 1832, and sinye republished, thus eloquently
touches on this subject. This gentleman, be it observed, has
written largely, and holds a principal rank in the magnetic
school.

" The absolute power which the magnetizer possesses over his passive
patient, opens an extensive field of curative effects ; for to the soitinamo
bulist himself this magnetic sleep is not only most salutary, but it qualifies

q2

228 Mt'smermny — or Animal Magnetism. [Jan.

him to discern his own and others* maladies and the cures which they re-
quire. But more than this, your absolutism is such, that you have merely
to will it and the rapt soul of your patient is instantly removed from all the
noisome influences of men and things. The diviner part of his nature be-
comes paramount, his moral affections are in a state of cloudless serenity,
and the great light of majestic intellect rules over all. Is he cold, you
warm him ; Is he warm, you refresh him with cooling zephyrs. You
gently breathe over all his pains, and immediately they disappear (* vous
soufflez sur toutes ses douleurs, quelles qu'elles soient, et les douleurs se
dissipent') you convert his tears into smiles, and his grief into joy ; is he
absent from his mother, or distant from his country, you cause him to
see them both, though you see them not yourself ; is he affected with
morbid symptoms, you chace them away ; you paralyse his sensibility,
should he happen to have to submit to any painful operation; you
transform water into any liquid which he may desire, or which you may
judge useful for his case, and the water thus transformed shall act as this
liquid ; you can even effect that it shall continue water, as far as
regards his inflanied stomach and bowels, but as regards his blood and
nervous system that it shall become bark. I have done more. I have
presented a somnambulist with an empty glass, from which she has
drank, and performed the ordinary movements of deglutition, and her
thirst has been assuaged. With nothing I have satisfied her hunger,
and with nothing I have served splendid dinners (physicians will easily
conceive the necessity of such experiments in certain cases). — What can
we not do for a person over whom we have absolute power? — VoiU,
certes, une medecine nouvelle, une medecine d'homme a homme — une
volontc' ferme et morale, pleine de tendresse et de charite, dans un
corps sain et vigoureux ; voila, le plus grand modificateur de toutes les
maladies en general."

Voild the ravings of madness ; for we would slake our reputa-
tion upon it, than any jury with the sense of four-year-old child-
ren would hesitate not a moment to bring in a verdict of insanity.
At Grand Cairo, M. Fillassier might possibly be estemed a saint
or a prophet, solely on account of his lunacy; but we cannot but
marvel that such incoherencies should be listened to for a moment
in any capital of modern Europe. Truly, if the senses are no
longer necessary for sight or hearing, but even the very appetites
may be appeased with thin air, the poor, the maimed, the halt,
and the blind, may reasonably rejoice in this new discovery, com-

f)ared with which the philosopher's stone or the grand elixir of
ife are the merest baubles upon earth. Dr. Elliotson has seri-
ously assured us that his parrot was sweetly entranced in sleep
by a few passes of the hand ; and by Du Potet we are informed
that the experiments of M. le Marquis de la Rochejacquelin
were perfectly successful on horses. What folly, then, to reject
so noble an instrument for perfectioning the human race, and
subduing the ferocity of nature ! The Examiner has wittily
observea — *

r

1888.] Metmerism, — or Animal Maytietisw. y29

" For Cabinet Councils we ought to have Cabinet slumbers.
Downing Street should be one great dormitory : the fat boy of the
Pickwick ought to be at the head of affairs ; and Ministers, instead of
dining together, should slt^ep together ; and chief clerks should paper
tliem with despatches and documents, and then record their inspira-
tions. Nor should the applications of animal magnetism stop here.
The Speaker of the House of Commons ought forthwith to be in-
structed in the art ; and instead of crying ' Order I' till he is hoarse, he
should paw riotous members into slumbers, in which they would
become superior beings — the most unlike possible to their waking
selves. Indeed, the sleeping faculties being so infinitely higher than
the waking, no member ought to be allowed to speak except in his
sleep; and, in a very deep trance, Mr. Benjamin D'Israeli himself
might be safely heard, especially if all the rest of the House slept too."

Our readers have probably heard of the exploits of the reign-
ing somnambule at Paris, who, for the sum of ten francs, engages
to inform vou of the full particulars of your complaint. Slie is
the wife of a physician, and therefore quite naturally hands over
her patients to her husband to cure, as soon as her oracle is
pronounced. Report says that she took to this course in conse-
quence of having had revealed to her in her sleep a remedy,
which rescued her dying son from the grave, although the
maliciousness of the world persists in assigning a less disinterested
motive. However this may be, it is remarkable that most of
this fratemitv sooner or later come to the opinion that the

f)ublic should pay for their amusement. Du Potet's admission
ee is merely that for a common raree-show ; but Mesmer's ope-
rations, in this as in every other particular, were on a far grander
scale; a subscription considerably exceeding ten thousand louis-
d'ors (340,000 hvres) having been raised, in order that he might
more effectually extend the knowledge of his art. Tliis, however,
scarcely comes up to the enormous cnarge recently made by Drs.
WoUowski and his colleague, for a short attendance on Lady
Lincoln: verily these Dousterswivels are not so utterly lost to
common-sense as we had supposed. The bump of acquisitive-
ness must be extraordinarily developed.

We have already admitted the possibility of a state of sleep, or
more correctly of a state of stupor or trance, being produced by
certain external operations. We have had the personal assurance
of Mr. Mayo, that under such a condition the patient was insen-
sible to a lancet which was plunged into her flesh. M. Oudet
(a member of the French commission, whose report we have
examined) extracted a tooth in this condition without producing
any pain ; and M. Jules Cloquet, another commissioner and
justly celebrated surgeon, extirpated a cancerous breast from a
lady under the same state. This last case is extremely curious.

2iJ0 Mesmeriam, — oi' Animal Maijneiism. [Jan.

For tlie two preceding days before the operation, the patient,
sixty-four years of age, and residing in the rue St, Denis, was
repeatedly magnetized by M. Chapelain.

" On the day appointed for the operation, (April 12th, 1829) M.
Cloquet, on his arrival, at half-past ten in the morning, found the
patient dressed and seated in an armchair, in the attitude of a person in
a tranquil natural sleep. She had returned, nearly an hour previously,
from mass, which slie was accustomed to attend at that time. M.
Chapelain had thrown her into a magnetic sleep after her return, and
she spoke with much composure of the operation she was about to
undergo. All the arrangements being made, she undressed herself,
and seated herself in a chair (the steps of the operation, which was a
very extensive and dangerous one, need not be described); during all
this time the patient continued conversing tranquilly with the operator,
and did not give the slightest indication of sensibility ; no motion of
the limbs or of the features, — no change in the respiration, or of the
voice, — no emotion even in the pulse could be perceived. The patient
never ceased to be in that state of automatic abandon and impassibility
in which she had been for some minutes before the operation. — The
patient was put to bed, still in a state of somnambulism, in which she
was allowed to remain forty-eight hours.— The dressings were removed
on the following Tuesday (the I'tth) ; the wound was cleansed and
again dressed, the patient not testifying any sensibility or pain. After
this dressing, M. Chapelain awakened the patient, whose somnambulic
sleep had lasted two days. This lady did not appear to have any idea,
any sentiment, of wliat had passed; but on learning that she had been
operated on, she was greatly agitated ; which the magnetizer put a stop
to by immediately sending her to sleep." — Medical Gazelle, xxi. 421 .

We offer no comments on this case, nor pledge our belief one
way or the other. It is possible that she may nave been in the
state of stupor described, or, like the Indian Fakirs, or even
the Christian martyrs, that she may have surmounted the feeling
of pain by an all-powerful determination of mind or an extasied
state of the moral feelings. On the former supposition we can-
not contemplate, without dread, the terrible purposes to which
this peculiar state of existence may be abused. It is not many
years since a young lady in Ireland was thrown into a state
of narcotism by a w retch, who perpetrated during that state a
deliberate act of villany. What has occurred may occur again.
Indeed, we are pretty well assured that such cases have recently
occurred in Germany, and that such was the nature of the causes
which induced M. Mesmer, as before related, precipitately to
quit Paris.

It is a common observation that families and nations, and
also the doctrinaires of schools, are equally ambitious of a glo-
rious descent. The proud of the earth are commonly content to

18S8.] Mcumeristn, — or Animal Magnetism. 281

trace their pedigrees from theGuelphs and Gliibellincs— iiatiuns
apotheosize their founders, and the assertors of new opinions
father them on the philosophies of Greece or Home, 'ihe fol-
lowers of Mesnier, exempt, as they must be admitted to be, from
most of the common habits of thought, are not exempt from this.
To this source are referred most of the relations, concerning sybils,
pythonesses, magicians, ami sorcerers of ancient times. " The
school of Mesmer," (which has the dignity of being divided
into three eras) says Du Potet, " was founded on a system analo-
gous to that of Epicurus, as explained in the poem of Lucretius ;
that of the spiritualists, which has many partizans in France,
reminds us of the Platonic philosophy ; the school of M. le
Marquis de Puysegur, is founded on observation." It is won-
derful to what lengths the enthusiasm of men will sometimes
carry them. In 18S1, the French commission assembled at
Pans under M. Husson, were so deceived by the jugglery of
two somnambulists as actually to authenticate their pretensions
to future sight, and to assert that the predictions of these indi-
viduals were accomplished to the very letter (leurs provisions se
sont rOalisOes avec uue exactitude remnrt/uable.J \\e do not
wonder, therefore, that individuals should, under the sanction of
this public decision, have ascribed the prophecies of Holy Writ
to the somnambulic vision ; or that others, with still more auda-
cious blasphemy, should have referred the miracles of Moses and
those of Jesus Christ and his apostles to the same source; thus
reproducing, as it were, in the very terms, the sceptic doubt of
the ancient Jews, " He casteth out devils through Beelzebub the
chief of the devils."

M. Foissac, in his Memoire stir le Magnetisme Animal^ ad-
dressed to the Royal Academy of Sciences, has the following
passage: —

*' When Moses held up his hands, Israel prevailed; but as soon as

he let thi-m fall, the Amalekitc hail the advantage Jesus Christ cast

out devils and healed diseases by the imposition of hands, and to so
high a degree did he possess this marvellous power (viz. the magnetic),
that it was enough if he but touched the sick, or he them, that they

should be whole It happened that when Jesus went into Nazareth

he performed only a few miracles on the sick. He was astonished at
their incredulity, saying, ' Sullux propheta in pafrid sua !' Faith, then,
[according to this astute logician, whose argument in respect of mira-
cles may be denominated the obscuriim per obsciirius,] was one of the
conditious of success, [so thinks Baron Du Potet,] which leads us to
believe that Jesus Christ effected his cures by maguetism !"

Tlie degree of susceptibility of anj' truth to useful applica-
tions is always matter of uncertainty, but in resix'ct of error,

232 Mesmerism, — or Animal Magnetism. [Jan.

we can have no doubt that its issues will be monstrous. Happily
for this country the demands made by the relations of social life,
on the exercise of common-sense, are of such frequency as to
engender a salutary habit of mind, which is equally a protection
against the arts of imposture, the transcendentalism of mystics,
and the insidious insinuations of infidelity. In fact, the people
of this island have no leisure for such unprofitable reveries,
which, consequently, strike no permanent root in the soil. A
few harmless individuals may amuse themselves with the exami-
nation of their friends' craniums ; a few othei*s may celebrate
homoeopathy, and divert themselves with infinitessimal prescrip-
tions ; and some few more may go the length of swallowing
Morrison's pills, or of being rubbed by a St. John Long. But
these are innocent diversions, while those who pursue them con-
stitute but a minute fraction of the great mass of the public —
the froth and folly, as it were, of the multitude ; who, if they
occasionally smart for it, suffer only what they deserve, for
neglecting the proper means of information. We need not say
that such is and such will be the fate of animal magnetism in
this country.

Art. IX. — The Allocution of His Holiness Pope Gregorif XVf,
addressed to the Consistory at Borne, 10th Dec. 1837.

AN important event has lately occurred, and which will have
most serious consequences for all Germany, whose actual
state is compromised by it; — we allude to the act of violence
exercised by the king oi Prussia against one of the most dis-
tinguished prelates of the German Episcopacy. We have endea-
voured to obtain an accurate statement of the circumstances from
persons whose information is obtained near the scene of action,
and on whose statements the fullest reliance may be placed. A
knowledge of the facts which preceded and brought on this event
is indispensable, to form a correct and safe judgment on the con-
duct of the prelate, and on the tyranny of the Prussian govern-
ment, whose persecution, as our readers are aware,* has been
exercised agamst the Catholics of the Rhenish provinces ever
since the occupation of that country.

On the 29th of May, 1836, M. le Baron Clement Augustus
de Droste Vischering, suffragan Bishop of Munster, took pos-
session of the archiepiscopal see of Cologne, in consequence of

• Dub. Rev, vol. ii. p. 168.

18S8.] Th9 Archbishop of Cologne. 288

the election of the chapter, and the proclamation of the sovereign
pontiff. At that time two important affairs required his most
anxious care, namely, the doctrines of the late professor Hermes,
of Bonn, which had been condemned by a papal brief, and
marriages between Catholics and Protestants. We will shortly
describe the state of these two questions at that lime. The arch-
diocess of Cologne was become the focus of the philosophical
opinions of Hermes, who for fifteen years had been professor of
dogmatic theology at the university of Bonn, and who had been

Protected both by the late archbishop, the Count de Spiegel, and
y the Prussian government. His doctrines, which make the
rational demonstration of the existence of God the sole founda-
tion of faith, and which assert that, without the foregoing de-
monstration, there can be no true faith, had been examined and
condemned at Rome, by a papal brief, dated the 26th of Sept.
1885, which did not appear till six months after the death of the
Count de Spiegel. 'Ihe Prussian government, who justly con-
sidered these doctrines as an approximation to Protestantism,
tried to suppress the brief, and did not allow any of the public
|)apers to circulate it. Nevertheless, it was inserted in the German
papers printed out of the Prussian dominions. Very soon a
difference of opinion manifested itself between the clergy in the
four diocessesof the Rhenish provinces, and those of Westphalia,
where the doctrine of Hermes had been widely spread. Whilst
the larger part of the clergy submitted to the decision of the papal
see, others declare<l that the brief was not binding on them, as
it had not been published according to the forms required by the
law of Prussia, namely, with the approbation of'thr king. 'Hie
Catholic professors of theolo«^y at the university of Bonn, who,
with the single exception of M. Klee, were all partisans of the
Hermesian doctrine, continued to teach it; and Mr. Kusgen,
administrator of the diocess of Cologne, in a circular dated the
29th of October, 1835, forbade the clergy of that diocess to speak
either for or against the condemned doctrine. Thus was the
decision of Rome held in contempt, and heretical opinions con-
tinued to form the basis of instruction in Catholic theology.
There can be no doubt, we think, that it was the duty of the
new archbishop, to apply a prompt remedy to this evil, and to
re-establish the Catholic doctrine in all its purity. Accordingly,
one of his first acts was to refuse his approbation to all the courses
of theology at the university of Bomi, excepting those of M.
Klee; to forbid the students of theology to attend those courses;
and to prohibit the professors in his chief seminary, all zealous
advocates of Hermesian ism, and whom he could not send away
without the consent of government, from continuing to lecture.

284 TJte Archbishop of Cologne. [Jan.

These measures, taken by the archbishop to maintain the purity
of the Catholic dogmas, formed, at a later period, one of the chief
heads of accusation against him by the government. At the same
time, he made all the priests of his diocess sign eighteen pro-

Ssitions relative to the principal points in whicn the doctrines of
ermes are opposed to the Catholic religion. The eighteenth
proposition exacted besides from each priest an entire submission
to the archbishop, and in the last appeal, to the sovereign pontiff,
in all matters concerning doctrine and discipline.

But the question oi'mixed marriages was still more'momentous,
being one in which the most sacred rights of the Church had been
trampled upon by the Prussian government. By an ancient
custom, introduced into Germany, as an especial dispensation
from the severity of the canon law, on account of the great inter-
mixture of Catholics and Protestants in the same provinces,
marriages concluded between Catholics and non-Catholics were
solemnly blessed by the Catholic priests, provided that both par-
ties promised to educate all the children in the Catholic religion.
But in every case where this promise was refused by either party,
the nuptial benediction was withheld by the Catholic priest.
After the occupation of the Rhenish provinces and of Westphalia
by Prussia, the number of mixed marriages increased consider-
ably, on account of the number of employes and Protestant
officers sent annually by government into these countries. The
king of Prussia, whose proselyting tendency is well known, in-
tended, by taking advantage of this circumstance, to Protestantize
all the Catholic provinces of his monarchy. But he met with a
strong opposition from the Catholic clergy, who refused to obey
the orders transmitted to them, by the cabinet of Berlin, to bless
all mixed marriages, without exacting any previous promise as to
the religion of the children. Government then addressed itself
to Rome, and negociated during many years with the Holy See,
in order to obtain a decision favourable to their projects. Pope
Pius VIII published a brief, dated the 25th of March, 1830,
which he addressed to the four bishops of Cologne, of Treves, of
Paderborn, and of Munster, wherein he regulated the conduct
which the Catholic clergy were thenceforward to observe on the
occasion of mixed marriages. Still maintaining the established
custom of Germany, the sovereign pontiff permitted Catholic
priests to he present at mixed marriages, but with a positive pro-
hibition to exercise any priestly function in case both parties re-
fused to promise to bring up their future children as members of
the Catholic Church. This being passively present was to vali-
date the marriage, which might also be inscribed in the ordinary
registers by the Catholic priest. The brief of Pope Pius VIII

1888.J TkeArchbhhopofCologni'. 235

was accompanied by an in'struction from Cardinal Albani,
dated the 27th of March, 1830, and addressed to the same four
prelates. In this instruction the Cardinal recites, that the
sovereign iwntiff had l)een greatly afflicted by a law of I'russia,
published ni 1825, which enacted, that all children to be born of
a mixetl marriage, should be brought up in the religion of the
father, or, at least, in the religion he chose ;* and which, more-
over, forbade priests to exact any promise from persons contract-
ing such marriage, concerning the religious education of their
future children. To this instruction it was added, that his holi-
ness did not mean by his brief either to authorize or to approve
of mixetl marriages, and that the lenity he thought right to ex-
ercise in this matter, was only intended to meet the case of a
lukewarm Catholic, who might otherwise be tempted to abandon
his religion, in order to contract a marriage with a person of
another faith.

The Cabinet of Berlin, which had thus failed in its attempts
to introduce a total change in the discipline of the Church, did
not publish either the brief or the instruction. This last became
known to the public only in the year 1837, whilst the brief
remained for four years in the portfolio of the minister at Berlin.
Every species of artifice and constraint was used to overcome
the opposition of the Catholic clergy on the question of mixed
marriages. For example, the government proclaimed, in the
orders of the day addressed to the army, that all promises made
by I'rotestant soldiers, who had married Catholic women, to
have their children brought up in the Catholic faith, were to be
considered as null and void.f

However, as these measures did not take effect, owing to the
good sense and right feeling of the German people, the govern-
ment tried to give another turn to the affair. The charge-
d'affaires to the Holy See, M. Bunsen, was recalled from Rome
at the beginning of tlie year 1834, and dirt»cled to negociate with
Uie late Archbishop. Foi this purpose, a secret conference took
place at Coblentz, between the Archbishop de Spiegel, and his
secretary Munchen, who took a very active part, on one side, and
M. Bunsen on the other. The principal result of this conference,

* Tbis law was much more advantageous to the Protestants, as amongst twenty
mixed marriages, there was onlv about one in which the husband was Catholic ; and
this is accounted for by the great nuinl>er of Protestant employes and officers, who,
for the most part, \»cre young unmarried men, sent by government into the Catholic
provinces, where CaUtolics were excluded from almost all employmenU*. — (See Dub.
Rev. ut tupra.)

f This declaration was repeated in an order of the day, daU-d '26\h NoveroWr
1945, addressed by M. MufHing, General-in Chief of the 7th division of the army,
to M. the Commandant of the fortress of Wescl.

236 The Archbishop of Cologne. • [Jan.

was an instruction explanatory of the brief of Pius VIII, by
which instruction the most important points of this brief were
abrogated. It was then that this brief, for the first time, be-
came public, notwithstanding the prohibition of the government
and the Archbishop of Cologne. The Archbishop's instruction
contained eighteen articles, and served as the basis of a conven-
tion which was concluded between the government of Prussia
and the Archbishop of Cologne at Berlin, dated the 19th of
June 1834. This convention, which was divided into fifteen
articles, was to be the rule of conduct for the Catholic clergy in
future, in regard to mixed marriages. The following are its
four principal articles: —

1st. The pasm-e presence of the Catholic priest at a mixed
marriage, which was allowed by the brief of Pius VIII, being
for certain reasons too odious, is to be restrained to the cases in
which Catholic parties should enter into such marriages with an
open and formal contempt of their religion ; in all other cases,
the active and officiating presence of the Catholic priest, and his
solemn benediction, are indispensable.

2ndly, In the preliminary questions before the marriage, the
Catholic priest shall not ask in what religion the future children
are to be brought up, as this point is to remain untouched, as
well in the publication of the banns, as in the benediction itself.

3rdly, In the sacramental confession, the priest is forbidden
to oblige the Catholic party to educate his children in his own
religion, or to refuse him absolution in case of his refusal to
enter into such obligation.

4thly, The churching of Catholic women is not, in any case,
to be refused.

This agreement was addressed to, and received by, the three
suffragans of Cologne, the Bishops of Munster, of Treves, and
of Paderborn ; and an instruction, based on these four articles,
was sent to the vicars-general of the four diocesses, to serve them
as a rule in all cases relating to mixed marriages. Thus was the
Church betrayed, and arrangements were introduced into the
four diocesses which were in direct opposition to the brief of
Pius VIII and the instructions of Cardinal Albani, which last,
it will be recollected, were still unpublished. The government
was so well aware of the nullity of all these acts in regard to the
canonical law, as well as of the perfidy which it had employed
to deceive the clergy, that it was recommended to the bishops
and vicars-general not to publish this convention ; but whenever
a priest applied for an instruction, to furnish him with one in
conformity with these four articles. Neither the clergy in
general, nor the Catholic laity, had any official knowledge of all

1888.] The Archbishop of Cologne, 287

this affair, until the measures taken by the government against
the new Archbishop tore off" the veil.

Thincs were in this state when the Archbishop, Count Spiegel,
died. The government, by what may well be called an inter-
position of divine providence, cast its eyes on the Baron Clement
Augustus de Droste Vischering, Bishop of Calamatta, and
brother of the Bishop of Munster. Having been administrator
of the diocess of Munster until the concordat of 1821, concluded
between Pius VII and the King of Prussia, the Baron de Droste
had afterwards lived in retirement; and, completely occupied
with works of charity, was far from seeking any ecclesiastical
dignity. But as he was known for the firmness of his character,
and the energy with which he had supported the rights^of the
Church during his administration of the diocess of Munster, the
government of^ Prussia, who did not dare to ask his adhesion to
the convention relative to mixed marriages, made use of an
artifice to tie his hands before they proposed him as a candidate
for the see of Cologne. The Baron of Altenstein, minister of
religion and of public instruction, had recourse to the interix)-
sition of M. Schmulling, canon of the chapter of Munster. The
following passage occurs in a letter from M. Altenstein to M.
Schmulhng, dated the 28th August 1835, relative to mixed
marriages : —

" One thing which still gives me anxiety, is the manner in which
Mgr. the Bishop of Calamatta will consider the question of mixed
marriages, and whether he is disposed, should he become acting hishop
of one of the four diocesses, to co-operate frankly in the execution of
a convention made the 19th of June last year, conformably to a brief
of Pope Pius VIII, dated 25th of March 1830, and entered into be-
tween Von Bunsen, the royal confidential counsellor of legation and
ambassador at the court of Rome, delegated for this purpose by his
Majesty the King, on the one part, and on the other hy the late Arch-
bishop de Spiegel, and to which the Bishops of Treves, Munster, and
Paderborn, have already acceded, and which has been approved by
his Majesty, and put into execution in those said diocesses, so that
for the future this affair may be considered as definitively arranged.
I am willing to suppose, then, that the Bishop of Calamatta, if he be-
came administrator of one of the four diocesses, would not only not
attack and overthrow the agreement of the 19th of June, but, on the
contrary, would study to maintain, and would be ready and careful to
apply it in a spirit of conciliation."

The Canon Schmulling had an interview with Monsei^ncur
de Droste, to whom he communicated the contents of the minis-
ter's letter. It would api>ear that M. Schmulling was desirous
of having a written document which he could communicate to
the minister ; and accordingly, Monseigneur de Droste wrote him

238 The Archbishop of Cologne* [Jan.

a letter, dated 5th September 1835, in which the following
passage occurs relative to mixed marriages : —

" As to the subject of mixed marriages, I have long wished that
some means might be found to smooth the great difficulties of that
question. / consequently learn loUh pleasure that my wishes have been
realized ; and I beg you, sir, to have the goodness to assure his
excellency the Minister, that I will take care to maintain the conven-
tion made and put into execution in the four vicariates, in conformity
with the brief of Pope Pius VIII ; and to add, that even if I had the
opportunity, I should forbear to attack it, or to overthrow it, and that
I would enforce it in the spirit of love and peace."

These two letters, from which we have cited the most impor-
tant passages, have been published by the Prussian government
as a proof of the culpability of the Archbishop, inasmuch as
after promising to observe the convention concluded between
the King and his predecessor the Archbishop de Spiegel, he had
forfeited his plighted word, and had acted in violation of his
promise. But an attentive examination of the letter of the
Archbishop, will point out two circumstances which entirely
justify the prelate. In the first place, it is clear that he was
ignorant of the contents of the convention referred to, and that
he then heard it for the first time. " / consequently learn with
pleasure," writes the prelate, " that my wishes (relative to a
definitive arrangement on the subject of mixed marriages) are
realized ;" and in the next place, he declares that he will main-
tain the convention, which he believes is " made and executed
in conformity with the brief of Pope Pius VJIl^ Assuredly
M. de Droste may be excused for not doubting of the conformity
of the brief of the Pope with a convention which had been
adopted by four Catholic bishops, — a conformity which the
minister asserts in his own letter addressed to the Canon Schmul-
ling. And even supposing he had had any doubts on the subject,
that was not the moment to express them, for as yet no direct
offer had been made him on the part of the Prussian minister.

Direct negociations soon began ; and the minister Altenstein
addressed a letter to M. de Droste, which the government has
taken care not to publish, because there was no mention made
in it of the Convention of Berlin, as the Archbishop positively
asserts in his last letter to M. Altenstein, — a letter which we shall
presently give at full length.

" I have the honour to observe to you," writes the Prelate, " that in
the declaration which I transmitted to your Excellency before my elec-
tion, there was no mention made of the instruction addressed to the
vicars-general, and that because your Excellency had not spoken on
the subject in your letter to me."

(

1888.J llie Archbishop of Colof/ne. 289

Why, we ask, did not the minister who accuses the Arch-
bishop of having violated his pliglited word, give an official con-
tradiction to the Archbishop's assertion, by publishing the letter
which the Prelate wrote him before his election ? From these
facts, we submit, that it is clear that M. de Droste has not in
any way forfeited his word.

Let us come back to actions, and let us see what has been the
conduct of Monseigneur de Droste, relative to mixed marriages,
since his translation to the Archiepiscopal See of Cologne.

In his pastoral letter to the clergy of his diocess, dated 29th
May 1836, he desired that thenceforward all documents concern-
ing his archbishopric should be transmitted direct to himself.
Above all, he turned his particular attention to the subject of
mixed marriages, and having been made acquainted with the
Convention of Berlin, as well as the instruction which was
addressed after that Convention to the vicars- general, he tried
as much as possible to repair the evil which had resulted from
the weakness of his predecessor. In a letter to a friend, dated
13th of May 1837, he himself traced his line of conduct in tlie
following manner : —

" I regulate myself on the subject of mixed marriages, j;i the Jirst
place, according to the brief of Pope Pious VIII ; in ike second place,
on the treaty, concluded at Berlin, between the late Archbishop de
Spiegel, and the Counsellor of Legation, Mr. Bunsen, and confirmed
by the King, as far as that treaty can be reconciled with the brief; and
in the third place, and on the same condition, on an instruction com-
piled by an Hermesian, and published by the same Archbishop, but
solely with reference to the churching of women. This then is my
manner of proceeding : after thrice publishing the banns, if there be no
opposition, and provided that both husband and wife promise that all
ihe'xr future children shall be baptized and brought up in the Catholic
reliywn, the marriage is celebrated according to the Catholic rites : if
the parties will not make this double promise, then the passive presence
is permitted as the brief allows. As to the churching of women, as it
might be taken for a previous approbation, it is to be refused unless
the children are baptized and brought up in the Catholic religion."

This last decision of the Archbishop's was contrary to the
fourth article of the treaty of Berlin, and as M. de Bodel-
schroingh. Governor of the Rhenish Provinces, laid great stress
on the execution of this article, the Archbishop believed it btnter
to accede to it, but in such a way as to neutralize its ill effects
as far as possible. The following are the orders which he issued
on this point, in an instruction dated 25th December 1836, and
addressed to the Dean of Aix la Chapelle : —

** A Catholic priest is permitted to bless a Catholic woman at her

240 Tlie Archbishop of Cologne. [Jan.

churching, though married to a Protestant, and causing all her children
to be baptized and brought up in the Protestant faith, excepting in
those cases where a blessing would be withheld, even in a marriage
altogether Catholic. Nevertheless, the curate or vicar performing such
churching, shall declare to the Catholic woman, with a loud and clear
voice, and immediately before the beginning of those prayers appointed
for the ceremony, that the blessing which she is going to receive, ought
in no ways to authorize her to believe that the Church approves her
marriage, but that these prayers are offered up by the Church for the
salvation of her soul."

A tolerant and conciliatory spirit animated all the acts of the
venerable Prelate, who gave way to all demands, howevef unjust
or arbitrary, in as far as he could reconcile them with the duties
of his charge. The following circular addressed to all the Deans
of his diocess, dated liJth December 1837, is a palpable proof
of what we have asserted : —

" At the request of the President-in-Chief of the Rhenish Provinces,
we, by these presents, " do desire the deans of the cities and rural deans
to command the priests of their dfeaneries, not to permit any strange,
and more especially Belgian priests, the exercise of any ecclesiastical
function whatsoever."

Here we have a very great concession, and in an affair in
which, according to the concordat of 1821, the government hatl
no right whatever to interfere. " I infinitely desire," writes the
prelate to one of his friends, " to avoid beginning a warfare
with the government, as long as any justifiable way of escaping
it is left me."

All these concessions did not satisfy the Prussian Government,
who required from the Prelate the execution of the treaty of
Berlin, and who tried all means of persuasion in the first place
to overcome his resistance. The followers of the Hermesian
doctrine were not all inclined to submit to the brief which con-
demned the opinions of their master. Two leaders of the party,
viz. Professors Braun and Elvenich, were gone to Rome to
obtain the revocation of the brief; the other professoi's of Bonn
continued in open opposition to the Archbishop, and several
pamphlets were published accusing him of ignorance and par-
tiality. Govennnent, who had not taken any active measures
against this faction, now resolved to profit by it. — The Count of
Stolberg Wernigerode was sent to Cologne, in order to try and
compromise matters with the Archbishop. Government de-
clared themselves willing to .abandon the Hermesians, and to
force them to obey the Archbishop, provided he on his part
would cause the treaty of Berlin relative to mixed marriages to
be executed in his diocess. Mgr. de Droste did not hesitate one

1888.] The Archbishop of Cologne. 241

moment ; he rejected these proposals, and attain declared that he
would only conform to the treaty of Berlin in as far as it accorded
with tlie brief of Pius the Vlllth. — He added that another
Bishop (die late Bishop of Treves, Mgr. de Hoinmer) had given
the sad example of being obliged to retract on his death-bed
what he had done on tliis subject during his life ;• and that as
for himself, he wished to die in peace, and not to have any such
subject of repentance.

The Cabinet of Berlin being at last fully convinced that the
firmness of the Archbishop was immoveable, resolved to employ
force in order to attain its ends. But before executing the pro-
jected measures, it was necessary to be secure of the co-operation
of the Metropolitan Chapter of Cologne. This body, two-thirds
of which were followers of Hermes, was gained over by M.
Bruggeman, himself a Catholic, but one who had already at
different times betrayed the interests of the Catholic Church
whilst charged with the direction of religious affairs in the
Rhenish provinces as Government Counsellor at Coblentz. M.
Bruggeman having tlms prepared matters for the Ministry, went
to Berlin, from whence he brought back the order to arrest the
Archbishop. Means were tried once more to shake the deter-
mination of the prelate, and M. Altenstein, minister of religion
and public instruction, wrote a letter to the Archbishop, dated
24th October, 1887, of which we will give the principal passages.

" If you delay promising that for the future the treaty of Berlin
shall be executed, Government will not fail to take steps the immediate
consequence of which will be to prevent you from exercising any of your
episcopal functions. You may be forgiven the scruples of conscience
you have entertained ; but these scruples are not a sufficient motive for
your dispensing with the obedience you owe to the laws of the state.
His Majesty has, however, condescended to allow you to give up the
administration of the diocess, and if this proposal is accepted, no
enquiry will be made in regard to tlie past."

Tlie Archbishop, who received this letter the 31st of October,
answered it the same day in the following words.

" I have the honour, in answer to the letter addressed me by your
Excellency, and dated the 24th of October, to state that I am not con-
scious of having given occasion to believe that I was myself aware of
the impropriety of several of the steps I have taken in regard to the
doctrine of Hermes. In the whole of this aifuir, the question, as it
relates solely to doctrine, belongs entirely to spiritual matters, upon

* The ibllowing pusags is contained in the letter written by the Archbishop to
tlie Pope on the eve of his death (10th Nov. 1836). — " Having arrived at the termi-
nation of my mortal career, and being enlightened by Divine grace, I retract all tliat
I may have done contrarv to the canonical lawt and the principles of the Calholic
Church, in regard to mixed marriages."

VOL. IV. — KO. VII. B

242 The Archbishop of Cologne. [Jan.

which the Church alone is entitled to decide. In regard to mixed
marriages, I declare once more, and still in conformity to the written
declaration which I had the honour to transmit to your Excellency
before my election, in an official and confidential correspondence, that
in regard to mixed marriages, I would act according to the Brief of
Pope Pius the Vlll/h, and according to the Instruction addressed by the
Bishops to the Vicars-general ; that I would try as much as possible to
make the Instruction accord with the Brief, but that in all cases where
that was not possible, the Brief must be the sole rule for my conduct.
I have, however, the honour to observe to you, that in the declaration
which I transmitted to your Excellency before my election, there was
no mention made of the instruction addressed to the vicars-general, and
that because your Excellency had not alluded to it in your letter. — I
add, moreover, that this declaration is not the result of scruples of
conscience, but is based on the full conviction that it cannot be allow-
able for any bishop to adopt a different decision from that which I
have come to. Finally, I find myself obliged to demand liberty of
conscience, and the free exercise of spiritual power, confided to me by
the Church that I might defend her rights. I beg to observe also, that
the duty I owe to the diocess committed to my care, as well as towards
the whole Church, will not permit me to cease from my functions, nor
to give up my charge. In all temporal things, I shall obey His
Majesty the King, as it becomes a faithful subject to do.

(Signed) " Clement Auguste,
*' Cologne, 31 st Oct. 1837. " Archbishop of Cologne."

The Archbishop communicated these two letters to his Chapter
and the priests of Cologne, and to all the clergy of his diocess,
who unanimously expressed their sympathy with him : the
Chapter alone, corrupted as we have seen by government,
received this coinmunication with indifference, and did not
approve the conduct of the prelate. The minister having received
the Archbishop's firm as well as dignified letter, gave orders for
the execution of violent measures. M. de Bodelschioiugh left
Coblentz for Cologne, where all the garrison were under arms,
and where strong patrols were on duty for several days. These
military preparations were no doubt intended to intimidate the
prelate, and to oblige him at last to give way. On the '20th of
November, M. d'Arnim, president of the government of Aix-la-
Chapelle, carried to the Archbishop the ultimatum of the king —
either immediately to retract his decision, or to be sent into
captivity. The Archbishop again declared that he could not
alter his conduct in regard to mixed marriages ; and M. d'Arnim
left him, and made way for the employme^it of brute force.
Towai'ds the evening tl e square before the archiepiscopal palace
was occupied by the military ; and the prelate and his secretary,
M. Michelis, were arrested and conveyed to Minden, a fortress

L

1888.] The Archhithop of Cologne. 243

situated at the extremity of Westphalia. On the next day a pro-
clanmtion was issued in Colof»nea:id in all the other towns of the
Rhenish provinces, and of VVestphalia, dated the 15th of Novem-
ber, 1887, and signed by three ministers. In this document the
Archbishop is accused " of havincarrogated to himself an arbitrary'
power, of naving trampled unaer foot the laws of the country,
and of having set at naught the king's authority, and produced
disturbance where there liad formerly existed the most perfect
tranquillity/' He was besides accused of having taken steps " to
excite the minds of men," and it was added " that the Sovereign
PontiflP had been completely informed of the whole affair." As
to these accusations against the Archbishop neither proofs nor
facts were brought forward in support of them, and the last asser-
tion is formally denied by the rope himself, in the allocution
which he pronounced on the 10th of December. The Chapter
did not hesitate to undertake the administration of the diocess;
and in its circular, datetl the 21st of November, it appears to
sanction the motives which had induced the government to
banish the Archbishop from his diocess. They received, moreover,
without daring to make the slightest protestation, the act of
accusiition, sent to them by the minister Altenstein, and which
was dated the 15th of November. In this document the minister
accuses the Archbishop : 1st. For his energetic conduct towards
the partisans of the Hermesian doctrines, and more especially
towards the Professors of Bonn, and of his chief seminary;
2ndly. For the publication and the execution of a dogmatical
brief, which had not received the royal sanction ; Srdly. For the
steps he had taken to assure himself of the orthodoxy and
obedience of the priests in his diocess, by making them sign the
eighteen propositions; and 4thly. For the violation of his
pledged word ui>on the subject of mixed marriages, in which he
nad even exceeaed the intentions of the brief of Piiis VIII." We
need not refute these accusations, which are either false or
ridiculous. Our readers are able to appreciate them at their just
worth.

T\ie dissatisfaction caused by the arrest of Mgr. the Arch-
bishop increased greatly in the Rhenish provinces, and in West-
phalia. All claimed for the illustrious captive the common right
granted to the meanest criminal, viz. the freedom of defence;
and it was demanded on all sides that he should be brought
before the tribunals face to face with his accusers. The Cabinet
of Berlin fVlt the weight of these petitions; and, in order to pal-
liate their injustice, they published in the official Gazette of
Berlin " that the Archbisnop was not a prisoner, since it de-
pended on himself to leave the fortress ot Minden, and to go

r2

244 The Archbishop of Cologne. [Jan.

whither he would, on the single condition of giving his word of
honour not to exercise any episcopal function. But the Arch-
bishop could not make this promise, without acknowledging the
right which the government assumed to itself, of dismissing a
Catholic prelate, which right belongs exclusively to the Sove-
reign Pontiff*, as head of the hierarchy. To him, as to his
juoge, the Archbishop had confided his cause with confidence,
and his decision all Catholics were looking for with impatience.
Government itself had so repeatedly declared that the court of
Rome had been informed of all that had passed in this transac-
tion, that it had succeeded in deceiving a party even of the
Catholics in Germany. But the Sovereign Pontiff, who watches
with so much tender solicitude over the interests of the Church,
himself unveiled the perfidious falsehoods of the Cabinet of
Berlin, in the allocution which he pronounced to the secret Con-
sistory of cardinals, and which he communicated to all the
powers of Europe. Our readers are doubtless acquainted with
this important document,* which has displayed in their true
light the persecutions of the Prussian Government towards its
Catholic subjects, constituting as they do more than a third of
the population of the kingdom, and the generous devotion of
the Archbishop of Cologne, a faithful confessor of the nineteenth
century.

" Venerable Brethren, — Placed in a position where it is not
sufficient to deplore evil, we are overwhelmed with sadness by the
melancholy state of the affairs of the Catholic Church. Whilst apply-
ing our thoughts to the remedy of these plagues of Israel, according
to the power received by us from God, a new cause of grief has started
up, and from a quarter, too, where it was least expected. You are not
ignorant of this, nor of the cause that brings us together this day. It
is no obscure event, learned by private accounts ; it has been, on the
contrary, officially communicated. We complain of the grave injury
committed against the venerable Archbishop of Cologne, who has been
deprived of his pastoral jurisdiction by order of the King, been driven
from his seat by the force of arms, and sent out of his diocess. Such
is the calamity which has fallen upon this prelate, however anxious he
has been to render to Caesar the things which be Caesar's, though not
at the same time foi^etting his duty in preserving the doctrine and
discipline of the Church. He sought to observe no other rule in the
matter of mixed marriages than that contained in the apostohcal let-
ters addressed to the prelates of Western Prussia by Pius VIII, our
predecessor, of happy memory, bearing date the 25th of March, 1 830.
And yet in those letters the Holy See carried indulgence to the ex-
treme limit. You are not ignorant that our predecessor was brought

* We subjoin a translation of this document, which hat appeared in the English
papers, and which we believe to be correct.— Ed.

1888.] The Archbishop of Colofffte. 245

to these concessions with regret, and solely from the necessity of saving
the Catholic clergy of those countries from the too certain evils with
which they were menaced. Who would have foreseen that this pon-
tifical declaration, indulgent as it was, and assented to by the King's
Envoy at Rome, would be executed in a manner to overthrow the
inflexible principles of the Catholic Church, and contrary to the inten-
tion of the Holy See? Yet this very thing, impossible to imagine or
believe, and to suspect which would have been a crime, has been done
by the artful influence of the secular power. No sooner had we been
warned of this, than we sent remonstrances, declaring that our apos-
tolical mission obliged us to tell the faithful not to consider a rule to
proceed from the Holy See which it held in horror. We received for
answer that our complaints were without foundation, and at the same
time came a letter from a bishop of Liege, who at the point of death,
and about to render an account before the Supreme Judge, declared
that the instruction addressed to the bishops, and subscribed by them
at the instigation of the civil government, would be the occasion of
great evils, and would infringe the holy canons. Enlightened by the
divine intelligence, he acknowledged his error, aud of his own accord
retracted his adhesion. Immediately we sent this to the King, and
stated how we disapproved of the interpretation put upon the letters
of our predecessor, which, though accepted by the bishops, were
entirely opposed to the principles and laws of the Church. You may
thus see, venerable brethren, that we have neglected nothing in this
affair. Nevertheless, we say it with feelings of the most profound
horror, whilst we were waiting the answer to our remonstrance, it was
signified to the Archbishop of Cologne that he must conform himself
to the interpretation of the late Pope's letter concerning mixed mar-
riages, of which we disapproved ; or, if he refused, that he must aban-
don his pastoral functions. If he resisted, a decree of the government
would interdict him from his episcopal jurisdiction. The Archbishop
resisting, in accordance with his duty, those menaces were fulfilled.
Aud mark the conduct observed towards us: the Prussian cAnr^e-
daffairet warned us of the event as about to take place on the first of
the following month, whilst it was, in reality, perpetrated ten days
sooner. In this occurrence, venerable brethren, we owe to God, tl»e
Church, and ourselves, to raise our apostolic voice against this viola-
tion of ecclesiastical liberty, this usurpation of a sacred jurisdiction,
this outrage against the Holy See. Let us not either forget to give to
a prelate endowed with so many virtues the praise due for his devotion
to the cause of religion and to his many sacrifices. Since the occasion
offers, we publicly and solemnly declare that we entirely disapprove of
the practice which prevails in the kingdom of Prussia, contrary to the
declaration of our predecessor, respecting mixed marriages."

246 Lord Muhjrave and the Protestants of [relaiui. [Jan.

Art. X. — Speech of the Etirl of Mulgrave in the House of
Lords, on Monday, the 27th of November, 1837, on the Motion
of the Earl of Roden for certain Papers referring to tlie
State of Ireland, liidgway.

IF we could discover any real ground for believing that the
policy of the Irish Government was designed to disturb
our Protestant fellow countrymen, in the exercise of their reli-
gious worship, or to deprive them of any right or safeguard,
which legitimately belongs to them, we should be the first to
condemn and decry it. For such policy were tyrannous and
partial, contrary to the sacred rights of conscience — for which
we have ourselves too long and too painfully contended, not to
be deeply sensible of their value, and at variance with every
principle which, as Christians and free citizens, we have been
taught to revere. Above all, it would be utterly inconsistent
with the noble integrity and justice which have rendered that
government a blessing and protection to all denominations of
her Majesty's Irish subjects.

We are bound to suppose that there are persons who, un-
affectedly, believe in the evil tendencies imputed to a liberal
system of government, having their minds filled with certain
blind apprehensions of danger to the creed and the persons of
Protestants, from the adoption of equal laws, or even a fair and
irrespective administration of such laws as are in force. These,
however, constitute but a poor and paltry minority of the num-
bers who join in the cant, and deplore the " heavy blow to Pro-
testantism," which they profess to dread from the arm of British
justice. To far the greater portion of this class, we cannot
allow the respectable excuse of honest ignorance. Their con-
duct is too plainly marked by all the tokens of selfishness and
faction to justify so charitable an interpretation. The means to
which they have recourse for diffusing their exaggerated terrors ;
the calumnies and falsehoods so industriously disseminated by
them, and the malignant, envious, and sordid motives betrayed
in their anxiety to nurt their opponents, forbid the supposition
that their prejudices are sincere, or their purposes in any degree
akin to those of an honest and single, though deluded, mind.

Wliether the Earl of Roden belongs to the majority or mino-
rity of such alarmists, we leave to those who know him better
than we do, to conjecture. But we are by no means surprised
to see him foremost of Lord M nigra ve's accusers, and noisiest
among the noisiest in casting odious and base imputations upon
that enlightened governor. Whether he be the dupe and catspaw
of others, or himself a wilful accomplice in promoting the grand
delusion, it is perfectly agreeable to nature, tliat his voice should

1858.] Lord Muhjrave and the Protestants of Ireland. 247

be raised above all othf rs in a general howl about a Protestant
pei"seciilion. For by whom shuuld we ex|)ect such a chorus to
be led, if not by the man who, not long since, took a prominent
and conspicuous part in a combination to crush and exterminate
the professors of another creed ?

We allude not here particularly to t!)e Orange conspiracy, in
which this Lord held so preeminent a station; nor to the wild
crusade issuing from Exeter Hall, of which he was an active
promoter ; but we refer to his bold and hostile proceedings
duritig the agitation of the Reform Bill in 1832, and to the
meetings at which he presided, and at which he spoke in that
exciting period. We refer especially to the great muster at
Ilathfieland in January of that year, held in tlie open street.
Lord Uoden who had come from his residence in another county,
(seventeen miles oft), to be its chairman, presiding, like Hunt at
Manchester, in the box of his chariot. He liarangued the
populace from that proud eminence, in strains of vehement elo-
quence, and having thus attuned their minds for what was to
follow, sanctioned the address of Mr. Crommelin, a deputy-
lieutetmnt and magistrate of the county of Down, who pledged
himself, in the name of all the Protestants, to " drive the Papists
out of the land." " So long as they behave themselves properly,"
said this northern lliraso, " we will assist them; but the moment
thev attempt to grasp at that to which they have no right we
will drive tnem out of the land. It is not a vain boast; for I
am satisfied that we are able to do it; we are not afraid of them;
we are three millions to their five ! If I could have anticipated
that my noble friend would have taken the chair, I would have
l»ad 60,000 Orangemen at the least, to give him welcome."

Lord Uoden so far from moderating tlie martial tone of these
observations, nodded and smiled assent to every sentiment from
his curule chair, and at the close of the proceedings exhorted
the multitude to treasure up in their hearts the excellent advice
and cheering assurances they had received in the course of the
day. In about ten days afterwards, we find his Lordship at a
"great meeting of the Protestants of Ireland," held at the Lord
Mayor's house, exulting in that display of physical force which
had emboldened his friend Crommelin to vow the extermination
of the Catholics, and animating the pursy Aldermen of the
Dublin corjX)ration by talking of the bone and sinew of Ulster.
"It is gratifying to think," thus does the noble Lord bray out
his triumph, "and oh ! it was gratifying to see, at the Meeting
in the North, to which I have alluded, that the Protestant sinew
and strength of tlie country is witli us. It was gratifying to see
a body of" |x?ople, from twenty to thirty thousand, whicn I had

248 lAyrd Mulgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

the honour of addressing in the North, determined to stand by
their principles." He speaks of that sinew and strength on
which Mr. Justice Crommelin had relied for "driving the Papists
out of the land."

It seems like the working of a conscience, seeking excuses for
itself in a fellowship of wi-ong, that persons who have themselves
conceived and avowed such projects, should now turn round and
attribute similar designs to others. We regard it, therefore, as
quite a natural disposition in Lord Roden to endeavour, if not to
drown the reflections of his own mind, at least to give a turn to
those of the public, by raising a din about imagined dangers
besetting the Protestant religion and its professors in Ireland.

In his famous speech of the 27th of last November, this
worthy peer assured the noble assembly which he addressed,
that, " at no period had the exercise of the Protestant Religion
been in greater danger than at the present moment, when he had
the honour of addressing their Lordships. He felt that in
making this charge against the noble Earl, who held the first
situation under the crown, in making so heavy and so grave an
accusation, that it was right for him to say, before he referred to
the acts of the noble Earl, that to those acts he attributed the
fatal and melancholy state of things which now existed. He
knew that such a charge was grave and serious, and it certainly
would not become him to make it, if he did not feel that
he stood on ground from which he was not to be shaken, and
that he was amply furnished with facts to prove all that he
advanced"

This was a formidable exordium — vultus multa et prfeclara
minantis — and great must have been the chuckling in the Toir
ranks to find themselves at length on the point of having all their
wishes gratified by a complete exposure of what till that moment
they had scarcely more than hoped to be true, — the persecution
of the Protestant Religion by the Irish government. An ample
supply of facts was about to be showered among them from the
Cornucopia of the noble Earl ; " facts" — the one thing needful
to give point to the fluent periods of D'Israeli, and render the
rambling invectives of Sir Francis Burdett mortal. Once
furnished with facts they could find eloquence themselves, and
hurl the tenacious Whigs from office ; but up to that period they
had been obliged to labour at their vocation with mere general
assertion, which, although skilfully handled and with excellent
effect too, as the progress of the Spottiswoode Conspiracy and
the result of many a recent election contest can testify, had failed
to accomplish the grand purpose of replacing them in power.
When Lord Roden, therefore, prefaced his Philippic by invoking

i

1838.] Jjyrd Mttlgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. 249

contlemnation on his own head, unless he should amply sustain
his grave and serious charge by facts, a dawn of lioj)e cheered
even those who were well acquainted with the gigantic promise
and dwarfish performance of his muse. Often before, indeed,
had the hollow rollings of his thunder died away upon their
anxious ears, and they had reproachfully aske<l him,

" When you bepin with so much pomp and show,
Why is the end so little and so low ?"

But no experience of his "alacrity in sinking" had prepared
their minds to ejcpect, that so loud a prologue would be followed
by — nothing. He had staked his character — such as it was —
U|)on the number and conclusiveness of his facts. They were
"ample," — they were " plain facts," — a great variety in his line,
— *' they placed him on ground from which he could not be shaken
— they would prove all that he advanced," — they would show
that the ultimate object of the lawless acts, which take place in
Ireland, was "the destruction of Protestant property, of Pro-
testant life, and the extermination of the Protestant Religion in
Ireland ;" — and he would be ashamed of himself if he could not
demonstrate, that such a melancholy and fatal stat^ of things
sprung out of the acts of Lord Mulgrave.

All this did Lord Roden undertake to set as clear as daylight
before the House ; and his friends, albeit not unused to ^his
vapouring mood, were delighte<l at so promising a commence-
ment of the campaign. Much did they rejoice in the confident
bearing of their fanatical ally, and the rich fruit which they
reckoned upon gleaning from the result of his autumnal re-
searches among the Irish. Already the keen dark eye of
Exeter's prelate began to fix its fascinatinf; gaze upon the tur-
rets of Lambeth, and Lord Londonderry's lancy was ** over shoes
in snow," plodding his anxious way to the vacant berth at St.
Petersburgn. Great matters were expected from Lord Iloden's
Budget, opened as it was with solemn flourish, to the very beard
of his adversary. Facts are stubborn chiels ; — " Happy is the man
that has his quiver full of them. He shall not be ashamed to
accost his enemy in the gate." Expectation therefore stood on
tiptoe, and impatient hope glanced from every eye when the
noble Earl, "armed all in proof" proceeded to unfold his
ample store of cases. But, alack — the bottle conjuror dealt not
a heavier disappointment upon the world of fashion. The noble
Earl's picked facts, the proofs which were to sustain him in all
that he had advanced, the statements which were to keep the
ground immoveable under his feet, consisted in three or four
occurrences, previously known, and though of a distressing and

250 Lord Mulgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan,

disgraceful nature, yet in no instance implicating the character
of the Irish nation in the design imagined by its interested
defamers, or justifying the calumnious assertion that " the
destruction of Protestant property, of Protestant life, and the
extermination of the Protestant religion is the great and ulti-
mate object" contemplated by the people, or encouraged and
aided by the Government.

His principal case to sustain this grievous indictment, is that
of Alien and M'Kenzie, two men employed to bring voters to
the support of Colonel Perceval and his colleague at the Sligo
election. They vfeve beset on their way, having first used much
pi'ovoking and threatening language, by a multitude greatly
excited on the other side, who detained them in custody, with
circumstances of revolting cruelty and privation, in consequence
of which one of them died, shortly after his release. God for-
bid that we should speak more lightly than it becomes the un-
compromising foes of all unjust restraint and aggression to
speak, of such an outrage. Justice, we trust, will visit its
authors with a stern and retributive power. The common law
awards no penalty against such offences too heavy or severe for
theirs. But whilst we cannot too strenuously express our abhor-
rence of the crime, we must protest against any attempt to
involve the character of the community in its guilt. It has been
stated, upon no other warranty than that of mere surmise, that
the population of an extensive district, comprising many thou-
sand persons, were cognizant of this lingering cruelty from the
first moment of its infliction to its tragical termination. There
is no proof whatever of such an assertion, and Lord lloden, who
is not the man to hide such an aggravating circumstance under
a bushel, does not venture to put it forward. He only describes
the savage treatment which the men received ; and liaving em-
phatically pointed to the circumstance of their religious profes-
sion, sets this fact in the vanguard of his attack upon the Irish
people, to speak for itself and convict them of a design to exter-
minate by force the Protestant religion.

Whilst we acknowledge his Lordship's discretion on this point,
let us also admire his modesty in forbearing to notice another
fact, connected with the case, which cannot well be supposed to
have slipped from his accurate recollection, whilst enumerating
the contents of his wallet. We speak of the charge preferred
against the Reverend Mr. Spelman, a Catholic clergyman, of
having been a principal abettor of the cruelty practised on that
occasion. That charge was prepared with infinite labour and
address. A witness was even dug up miraculously out of tlie

1888.] iMfd Mulgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. 251

grave,* to wliich a well-devised rumour had consigned him, in
order to bring the matter to bear in the most advantageous form.
It would have been a great point gained for Lord Roden's argu-
ment, as well as a "crowning mercy" to his crest-fkllen and
heart-sick party, if the chain of evidence could have been twisted
round the neck of one of the spiritual guides of the people;
and to a certain extent the object was effected ; for informations
were received against the accused individual and the charge still
hangs over him. Why, may we ask, is Lord Roden silent upon
so imjwsing a " /<7c< ?" Was it delicacy to a culprit yet untried,
or tenderness for the Crown lawyers who had admitted him to
bail, that restrained the noble Lord and taught him a reserve
which does not ordinarily belong to his character ? Or had he
the wisdom, almost as unusual, to perceive that in trying to make
out a case very clearly, there is sometimes danger of proving
too much, and that it might therefore answer his purpose quite
as well, not to advert, in this stage of the case, to the awful dis-
closures to be anticipated from the arrest, and the manner in
which it was concerted, of that priest?

There was also a second priest mixed up in that transaction,
upon whon^, for reasons neither mysterious nor unintellegible,
the Noble Earl wastes no words. The Reverend Mr. M'Hugh
interfered at the moment of the attack, to rescue the unfortunate
men from their assailants, and his intercession being fruitless,
he immediately communicated the fact of their forcible detention
to the police, at the nearest station. This was not like an or-
ganized plan to destroy Protestant life, and exterminate the
Protestant religion in Ireland ; and a candid antagonist would
have given his opponents the benefit of such an acknowledgment,
even at the hazard of weakening his own position. But Lord
Roden really could not afford to dilute any of his " plain facts"
Tliey are too few and far between to admit of his spoiling the
best in the lot by a foolish exercise of generous frankness : par-
ticularly when the same act which may be praiseworthy in other
persons, is, and must be " damnable and idolatrous," if per-
formed by a priest. Besides, for a member of that suspected
fraternity to dictate to the police, and prescribe their course of
duty to them, is an overweenmg assumption of authority —
" Which, were there nothing to forbid it,
Is impious because he did it."

His Lordship, therefore, kept this little fact at the bottom of his

* M'Kenzie, who wu reported to have died of the hard usage he had expeiienced,
wat brouglit forth, after Uie expiration of several weeks, in perfect health, to tho
great astonishment of all his neighbours, to swear informations against Mr. Spel-
iiiau.

252 Lord Mulgrave and tJie Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

quiver, and sent forth the barbed shaft without an antidote to
rankle in the minds of his confiding British hearers. He placed
at the head and front of his impeachment, the outrage committed
upon " two unoffending Protestants," which he relies on as an
irrefragable proof of the persecution of that faith ; whilst the
attending circumstance, which was amply sufficient to dispel his
inference, he studiously and carefully repressed. This is surely
not a very noble way of standing on ground from which it is
impossible to be shaken.

As to the real character of that unhappy transaction, it is
enough for the scope of this article, if it has been shown, not to
have originated in a design to cut off or exterminate our Pro-
testant fellow-countrymen. Lord Mulgrave, however, in his
excellent and powerful speech, has placed it in its true light, as
an ebullition of popular frenzy durmg the fever of an election,
showing, at the same time, that the precedent, though pushed
like most bad precedents to a violent extreme, was taicen from
Lord Roden's " very particular friends. '

" Then, my Lords, with respect to the case of Allan and Mac-
kenzie, though I cannot but express my feeling of horror at the atrocity,
yet I cannot entirely forget that the system of kidnapping, which has
been found to be one of the causes of subsequent offences, is not by any
means confined to any one party, or to any one county in Ireland. In
the county of Longford, affidavit!* were sworn to the effect that persons
who were known not to be disposed to vote for the Conservatives,
were confined at Carrickglass until the election, and then brought up
to the poll and made to vote for that party. In Carlow, the eases of
Nolan and Brennan came before the assistant Barrister, at the Quarter
Sessions, when a conviction actually took place of parties charged
with having kidnapped persons, who would have voted against certain
Conservative candidates, if they had not been thus prevented. When,
my Lords, such proceedings are countenanced by persons of education,
who of course could not by any possibility be considered as desirous
of leading to the commission of an offence of so serious a nature as that
of murder; — but, my Lords, when persons of high station were seen
setting so bad an example, it cannot be a matter of very great surprise
that that example should be followed by persons of an inferior station,
M'ho, in the first instance, could not be supposed to intend to commit
murder, but whose subsequent proceedings have led to the commission
of that crime."

When it is recollected that the grave Dr. Lefroy is the proprie-
tor of Carrickglass, and, that in his mansion, were forcibly confined
the reluctant Catholic freeholders, whom he compelled to vote
against their conscience and their will, nay, that they were de-
tained there, not only on the ordinary week days, but through-
out an entire Sabbath, in utter contempt of their entreaties to

1888.] Lord MuUjrave and the Protectants of Ireland. 253

be Buffered to attend the worship of tlieir Church, — can the force
of impudence ao farther than for tl»e party which set the example
of sucli compulsion, to raise the hue and cry of religious persecu-
tion against the rude imitators of their own acts ? We are
quite ready to acknowled^ the wide difference in the effects of
lawless violence, as practised in these several instances by the
centry and by the common people ; tlie comparison is greatly to
the shame and disgrace of the latter ; but the offences originated
in the same motive ; and if, on the one side, fatal consequences
ensued, those excesses neither flowed from a premeditated de-
sign to take away life, nor were committed with the slightest
reference to the religious belief of the victims.

But enough of this case : which is followed up by another of
a poor blacksmith, a Catholic, who lost his life in consequence
of^ a beating inflicted upon him for working for " The Hano-
verians." That was a term applied to tlie partisans of the
great Orange functionary. Colonel Perceval ; and if Lord llodeii
could prove, that tlie mutual infliction of barbarous vengeance,
after the result of a severely contested election, is not a sin com-
mon to both parties in Ireland,* or that Catholics and Protestants
have not been indiscriminately sufferers by it, there might be
some grounds for his charge. But he knows that such practices
are the disgrace of all, and that they are coeval with, if^ not the
immediate effects of, the tyrannical combination amongst land-
lords and men of property to force the consciences of their de-
pendents, and punish the disobedient by expulsion and beggary.
That arbitrary system, enforced as it has been with the utmost
rigour, has naturally provoked and inflamed the passions of the
common people; and behold the fruits of the reaction in the
cruel reprisals which they sometimes make upon those of their
own body who want the virtue or the courage to stand to their
colours. To attribute such enormities to a spirit of religious ani-
mosity, is to take a liberty with the plain truth, which Lord
Roden would be the first to condemn in any other person.

The next instance in his " chain of facts," is the murder of
Fairbanks, a Protestant farmer in Sligo, who was found mur-
dered on the road-side on the 10th of November last Where-
fore or by whom this crime was perpetrated, the Noble Earl is
silent, leaving the word *' Protestant" to represent his view of
the case; but Lord Mulgrave explains the transaction, and
shows that the unhappy man fell a victim to that unrelenting
code which, for the last eighty years, has doomed to destruction

* Some Orange " gentlemen'' or Mountmelich (Queen'a County) shot a poor
Catholic la*t July, for merely cheering for the successful candidate, as they returned
beaten from the contest.

254 Lord Mulgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

him who takes land " over the head" of a tenant in possession.
We are not now about to inquire into the causes, or compare
the demerits, of those who provoke and those who enact such
horrors. No doubt, a large portion of the moral responsibility
of these acts lies at the door of the landlords, who, as Lord
Mulgrave truly observes, are " more powerful for evil" than he
or any government, " in the honest and unshrinking discharge
of its duties, can be for good." But wicked and inhuman as
are the decrees of that dark tribunal, no man who pretends to
tell the truth, will say that they are influenced in the slightest
degree, so as either to sharpen or to mitigate their severity, by
a regard to the creed or political connexions of the victim. Was
not Mr. Marum, the brother of the late Catholic Bishop of
Ossory, murdered at his own door, within a few miles of the
episcopal residence, because he had usurped the possessions of
the poor ? And although five n:en paid the forfeit of their lives
for the deed, his son, in a few years after, was consigned to the
same bloody grave by the same violent means. An inquiry into
the numbers who have been immolated to that principle of fierce
retribution and terror, from the commencement of the present
century to this date, would prove, not only that the frequency
of assassinations on this account, during the respective secretary-
ships of Sir Arthur Wellesley and his successors. Peel, Goul-
burn, and Lord Francis Egerton, greatly surpassed that of
similar outrages since Lord Morpeth has held the office, but
also that the numerical proportion of Catholics to Protestants
who have perished through this cause, would be found even to
exceed that in which the members of the two Churches stand
respectively to one another. The following observations of Lord
Mulgrave, delivered in a tone of moderation and candour which
his assailants would do well to imitate, are perfectly unanswer-
able : —

" The Noble Lord has alluded to another most lamentable case
which occurred in Sligo. My Lords, this and every otiier case of a
similar description, of course requires and demands every attention on
the part of the Government. But neither in this, nor in any other
case, will I admit that the man was murdered because he was a Pro-
testant. I do not believe, my Lords, that such a thinsf exists. I have
heard that it was stated by a connexion, by the bye, of the Noble Lord
opposite, — by a young gentleman who perhaps will know more of Ire-
land hereafter, when he wanders beyond his ample domains for other
purposes than to attend these meetings, — but I have heard it was stated
by that Noble Lord, ' that no Protestant's life is safe in Ireland unless
he is armed.' Why, my Lords, I have the authority of many of those
who have attended the assizes, for stating to your Lordships that there
is no such thing in Ireland as a man being murdered on account of his

1838.] I A>rd Mulgrave and the Protestants of I reltind. 255

religion. A man happens to be murdenni as a part of that dreadful
system of combination which has always existed in Ireland with regard
to the tenure of land. If it be a (i'atholie who has been ejected, and
if a Protestant happens to come into the holding, he is murdered on
that account, and not because he is a Protestant, for that is merely a
coincidence. Indeed, with respect to Fairlands, it was supposed that
he was murdered because it was suspected that he would have suc-
ceeded the person ejected by the Noble Viscount opposite (Viscount
Lorton) in his holding.

" Viscount Lorton. — It was only suspicion.

" (The Earl of Mulgrave.) — I say so, my Lords; I say that such
was supposed to be the ground of the munler. In not one of the
cases which have been stated by the Noble Lord is there any reason
for saying that the man was murdered because he was a Protestant.
A gentleman who has had very considerable experience in Crown pi-ose-
cutions as a Crown solicitor, Mr. Barrington, states : ' I never knew an
instance of a murder of any man on account of his religion : almost
all tl»e homicides amongst the lower class in the south of Ireland are
of Roman Catholics ; and of those in the higher class, there were in
Limerick alone, in the years 1821, 1822, and 1823, prosecutions in
fourteen cases for the murders of, or combining to murder respectable
Protestants, not on account of their religion, but from local causes ;
so that the attacks on persons who happened to be Protestants is not a
recent crime, and the two last prosecutions for conspiring to murder
respectable persons, were for offences against Roman Catholic gentle-
men— one a magistrate and a grand juror, who was fired at and
wounded in the year 1834; and the other, the case of a conspiracy in
the same year to murder the land-agent of a Roman Catholic, by some
tenants who were dispossessed of their holdings."*

Tl>e next case which Lord Roden brings forward, is that of
Andrew Ganley, who was murdered in the egg-market in
Dublin, by some of those trade-combinators, who seem just
now nothing loath to deal a similar measure of " wild justice"
to Mr. O'Coiuiell. The unfortunate man was a Protestant, and
the brother of a jierson who had made himself most fatally con-
spicuous at a previous election in Longford ; circumstances of
course sufficient, in the judgment of this most candid peer, to
strengthen the ground under his feet, and prove that the destruc-
tion of Protestants is the object of all outrages in Ireland. The
Lord Lieutenant is twitted with having indirectly connived at this
murder. He " lived,'* we are sneeringly told, " in perfect
security in his castle, and surrounded by his guards, while even
the protection of the law was not given to the poor Protestants,
and neither watch nor constable was to be found to prevent this
barefaced outrage." There is no lack of harefacedness at all
e^ ents in such an attack ; for if the city of Dublin was unpro-
vided with an adequate protection of constables and watchmen

256 Lord Mulgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

at the time of the perpetration of that outrage, whom should
the public hold accountable for it, unless the House of Parlia-
ment, which had factiously interposed delays and frivolous objec-
tions to the enactment of a measure for giving to that city the
benefit of an effective police ? Had the bill been suffered to
pass into a law when it was proposed, no part of Dublin would
have been without an adequate safeguard at the date of Ganley's
murder; but it was still left under the charge of those "most
ancient and quiet watchmen," who had been continued in office
partly through the agency of Lord Roden himself. That he,
therefore, should taunt the present government with the unpro-
tected state of Dublin at that period, is a presumptive proof that
his countenance is at least as immovable as the ground he stands
on.

There is yet another notable case of Protestant persecution,
which crowns the noble Earl's climax of miseries, and fixes him
" founded as the rock" upon that ground from which he hurls
his denunciations at the head of the Lord Lieutenant. A num-
ber of gentlemen and farmers (he will not tell us how many)
from the Barony of Upper Ormonde in Tipperary, going to the
election at Clonmel, took the precaution to arm themselves well,
whereby (providentially he should have added) they were enabled
to achieve their mission. But they did not accomplish all this
without some trouble : for on their way, near Cashel, they were
pelted by a mob, at whom they discharged some shots in return ;
the noble historian does not state with what effect ; but doubtless
they took care not to be behindhand in the exchange. Their
perilous enterprise ended in their arrival, with some bruises and
one broken head, at the Globe Inn, Clonmel ; " thanking the
darkness," says one of the party, " for our safety." And this is
the grand demonstration — the proof of proofs — that nothing will
content these people, short of the extermination of the Protestant
religion in Ireland !

The above case we are content to receive, according to the
version of Lord Roden and his informant, who was one of the
armed party engaged in the transaction ; and yet upon this ex
parte statement, what does the affair indicate more than the en-
counters which take place in all parts of the United Kingdom
during the tumultuous excitement of a contested election ? That
the caravan from Upper Ormonde were " more sinned against
than sinning" in the conflict, he would be either a very bold or a
very ignorant man who should dare to avouch, seeing that a more
violent or intemperate race of bumpkins are nowhere to be en-
countered than in the district of Upper and Lower Ormonde.
They are the same clan who have often kept their drunken orgies

I«d8.] Lord Mulgrave ami the Protestants of Ireland. Q51

in the Old Abbey of Kilcooley, and from its towers hung out
tlie colours of religious hatred and defiance. Probably they had
but iust issued from that building, sacred to the dearest and best
recollections of the people, on their route to vote for the violent

who now possesses it, and who on the hustings declared

himself, in despite of the late King's Proclamation, and the
seeming earnest exhortation of Lord Roden himself, still an
Orangeman, and the Master of an Orange Lodge. If such a
cavalcade provoked the attacks of some not-brained spirits by
the way, is the character of a nation to suffer for that ? Could
a similar train of gallants liave passed unmolested through Kent,
if at each step in their progress they made a display of their
firearms, waved Orange pocket-handkerchiefs in the air, and
insolently proclaimed their determination to trample on the peo-
ple's necks, and put down all who should dare to advocate Uieir

cause

\

We have now exhausted Lord Roden's wonderful budget of
facts, which were to have proved all that he had alleged; but
which only prove that it is much easier to abuse than to accuse,
to make charges than to substantiate them. Some outrages, the
atrocity of which, however, let us not be supjxjsed to extenuate,
arising from local and temporary' causes, or from circumstances
long interwoven with the Agrarian system of the counti-y, and
for which legislation has failed, either through reluctance or
incapacity ot its members, to provide a remedy, furnish the
groundwork of this bombastic impeachment. Such are his ample
proo&, such the acts

" That roar so loud, and thunder in the index."

Could tliere be a more felicitous illustration of Swift's observation
that " tliere never was any party, faction, or cabal, in which the
most ignorant were not the most violent ; for a bee is not a busier
animal tlian a blockhead."*

In opening his tirade^ this nobleman was pleased to compli-
ment himself highly on the position which lie holds in " the
confidence of rariotut denominations of persons in Ireland," —
(we should like to know, by the way, where the pleasing variety
is to be found) and to vaunt the purity and disinterestedness
of his motives, the moderation (!) of his statements, and his
delicate reluctance to paint affairs in higher colours than they
actual Iv appear. To all this we have no reply to make, except
that self-esteem is often a most agreeable quality ; but that if we
had been consulted before he uttered his Philippic, we should

• " ThonghU on Various SnbjecU."
VOL IV. — NO. VII. 8

258 Lord Mulgrare and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

have said, in the words of a matter-of-fact personage in the
French drama, — " Parle-nous mains d'honneur, et sois honniie.**

The Duke of Wellington, while he adopts can nmore Lord
Roden's exaggerated representation of the general state of Ire-
land, discards, not without an expression of contempt, the notion
of a religious persecution being carried on against the Protest
tants. " He did not wish," he said, " to make any distinction
as to Protestants." This can hardly proceed from an unwilling-
ness to wound on this point, if he could have discovered a vul-
nerable part; for he introduced at the same time a topic which
even Lord Roden had not glanced at — the personal injuries
inflicted upon Protestant clergymen in Ireland, and which his
Grace attributes, along with every thing else, to political agita-
tion. His error in stating that two Protestant clergymen had
been murdered during Lord Mulgrave's government, and the
apology he made for it, have provoked a pleasant comment from
the Examiner^ and an inference than which hardly any could
have been drawn more unpalateable to the great Duke himself,
of his undeniable consanguinity to the race that " hails him
brother."

" ' How was it,' said the Duke, * that two Protestant clergy-
men had been murdered?' — Earl Mulgrave — * Not one since
I have been in Ireland.'* — ' The Duke of Wellington was sorry
if he had been in error on that point ; but of this he was certain,
that a vast number of Protestant clergymen had been the objects
of these very offences.' "

We accept his Grace's sorrow for the mistake as an involuntary
tribute to the force of nature, which though driven out at the
point of the bayonet, is sure at some time or other to find her
way home again ; but when he talks of " a vast number of Pro-
testant clergymen," as having suffered violence from the enmity of
the peasantry, he is guilty of something worse than an Irish
bull ; he is under the influence of a very great mistake indeed.
For, if it is recollected how many Protestant clergymen there
are in Ireland, arrayed in bitter hostility against the people, and
many of them, through the infatuated stubbornness of our here-
ditary lawmakers, still in angry collision with their neighbours,
while some go about preaching the doctrine of extermination ;
and others, possessed of property, take order for practising it, we

• This is incorrect in terms, a Mr. Dawson, who was in holy orders, having been
murdered at Ballincurry in the county of Limerick, in July 1835. But he held no
clerical employment in Ireland, nor was usually resident there. He was known in
Ireland only as the absentee proprietor of an estate, and was murdered for having dis-
possessed some tenants. This dees not diminish the atrocity of the deed ; but it re-
moves the stigma from the character of the country, of bis having been put to death
becau'.e he was a clergyman or a Protestant.

1886.] Lord MtUtjrave and the Protestanti of Ireland. 259

tliink the Duke's expression of a vast number is somewhat
misplaced. Tliere is nothing vast except by comparison; and
we venture to state that the clergy of the Protestant Church
have not suffered from external violence in a greater proportion
than persons of any other denomination, upon a fair comparison
of the numbers actually engaged in courses obnoxious to such
lawless reprisals. That a siiigle individual amongst their body
has suffered, we do most unaffectedly, and ever shall, deplore.

The number, however, has not yet come up to the political
exigencies of the party, which makes such a parade of its sym-
pathy ; for their public writers seem to have set their hearts
upon nothing more strenuously than on the increase, by fair
means or foul, of the nmsterroll of such martyrdoms. Invention
has been set on the rack to turn the most trivial occurrences, in
which a Protestant clergyman may have been engjiged, into
systematic attacks; and magnify even accidents into murders, in
order to swell out the catalogue to the dimensions which are
considered important to those ends which such occurrences can
be made to serve. This would be scarcely necessary, were the
number of authentic cases "vast." On the contrary, it betrays
a poverty of real outrages, when the Times, to distend its column
oi horrors, has to bewail through three or four double-ruletl lines
of primer, the portentous attack upon Mr. Athill's empty coach,
owmg to which providential circumstance Mr. Athill himself
** escaped ;" and at still greater length to record the cruelty of
compelling the Reverend Mr. Armstrong, at his return from an
election, to descend from his carriage upon the hard road, and
remount its carpeted steps again. These are mortal stabs at the
Protestant religion ; and it must prove to every one whose eyes
are not wilfully closed against the evidence of " plain facts," that
murders of the clergy are both familiar and frequent occurrences,
when the accidental death of the Rev. Mr. Grady of Carrick-
on-Suir, who died anno 1829, in consequence of a fall from his
horse, occasioned by the heedless precipitancy of a policeman, is
now claimed as a deodnnd for the benefit of the survivors, as a
wilful murder. The modest historian of these tragic events sets
him down as having been pounded — ^yes, that is the word —
" literally pounded to death !"

The truth is,— and it is sufficiently lamentable and disgrace-
ful, without seeking to make it appear worse, — six Protestant
clergymen have been murdered within the last eight years in
Ireland ; one only of the number, a gentleman not known there
as a clergyman, nor in any possible way obnoxious as such,
having met his death since Lord Mulgrave assumed the govern-
ment.

The omissions with which this list is chargeable, are quite as

260 Lord Mulgrnve and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

significant as its additions and embellishments. One of the six
murdered clergymen was a Reverend Mr. Williams of Cavan ;
but the list is wholly silent as to this case. It " breathes not
his name." He received his death-wound, if our recollection is
correct, in the year 1834 ; being in company with his wife and
sister, when a villain, who had walked some distance by his
side, in apparently friendly converse, dropped behind, and,
watching his opportunity, lodged the contents of a blunderbuss
in the ill-fated gentleman's back. How could this atrocious
assassination escape the searching retrospect of those who scraped
together such ludicrous incidents as the post-election adventure
of Mr. Armstrong, and the insulted dignity of Mr. Athill's
coach ? Was it through oversight, or rather, was it not because
the assassin in this case was more then suspected to belong to
the congregation of his victim ? Justice has hitherto been baffled
in her attempts to avenge this horrid deed ; but there is little
doubt that her arm, if ever it overtake the murderer, will light
upon the head of an Orangeman and a Tory.

The total suppression of this case, which, in circumstances of
perfidious atrocity, falls short in no degree of the dreadful mur-
ders of Mr. Whitty and Mr. Houston, is a sufficient index of
the candour with which these charges against the people and the
government are prepared and seasoned for the public palate.

There is a reverend gentleman in Connaugnt who has some
right to complain that his name has not obtained a niche in this
martyrology ; for if a coach has been deemed worthy of our
indignant sympathy, much more are a pair of grey pads entitled
to the most zealous commiseration. Mr. Gildea tells his own
story in language so graphic and circumstantial, that we shall
no farther retard its flow, than merely to inform the reader that
we have taken it from the reverend gentleman's multifarious
evidence before the Lords' Committee on the system of National
Education.

" I was one day, not immediately within my own parish, but in the
next one, driving my family ; happening to have grey horses in my
carriage. I met a funeral, and approaching the funeral, one of the
horses being young and unsteady, I desired the servant (,o get down
and stand by him as we passed slowly through the funeral, in order to
keep the horses from hurting the people. Passing through the funeral,
they treated me as they usually do with some respect, touching their
hats to me ; when I got to the end of the funeral, a man that 1 knew
something of came up to me and said, ' You must turn your horses.'
I said, ' Why ? ' He said, * If you do not turn your horses the con-
sequence will be that a great number of the people that have attended
the funeral will die of the same disease that the corpse had.' I said,
• That is a very foolish notion, and if I turn my horses it will seem as

I

1888.] lA>rd Mulgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. 261

if I countenanceil and believed it.' I said, ' I cannot do it, putting it
to me in th(> way you do.' Another person standing by made use of
very violent language, and said he would insist upon my doing it, and
I cautioned him to be careful, but he persisted in doing it, and he ran
to the horses' iieads : and, most providentially for me, the moment I
let the reins slack they were in an instant in a gallop. The people all
then turned from the funeral, and a great portion of them followed
me, throwing stones and crying out to be stopped : and they called out
to a man, in Irish, with a cart upon the road, to stop me. He was
afraid to do so, but he stood himself in the way, and he succeeded in
throwing one of the horses down by making a blow at him with the
end of his whip. I succeeded in getting him up again before the
crowd overtook me. I then came to two carts drawn across the road,
and just as I came to those two carts, the landed proprietor of the
place, who happened to be near, hearing the noise, got up upon a bank,
and immeiliately upon seeing him they all turned. I got out of my
carriage and followed them, and succeeded in getting hold of the per-
son who was the first exciter of it, and he was tried; and upon the trial
it was stated, that if I had been taken, and there had been no protector
at hand, in all probability myself and my wife would have been mur«
dered."

It is highly probable that his horses' heads would have been
turned at all events; which, though not quite so bad as the
killing of himself and his wife, would nathless have been a
grievance. It was in sooth a hot and anxious affair; and
although the object of the pursuit was to catch not the parson
but his palfreys, it has much more the air of a persecution than
many incidents entered in that black beadroU, and should there-
fore by right be honoured with a distinguished place therein.

The cases which have been brought forward to sustain this
part of tlie calumnious attack upon our name and nation, are
not only few and wretchedly supported, being in many instances
grossly exaggerated, and in others perfectly ridiculous ; but as
far as the attempt aims at inculpating the present government,
it utterly fails of its object ; all of these occurrences which are
in any way applicable to the general subject, having taken place
before Lord Mulgrave came to Ireland, and therefore before the
experiment of ruling tlie Irish people by impartial justice was
ever tried. The production of these facts is consequently a tes-
timony for the present /government ; for, if they prove any
thing, tnev prove what is mdeed well ascertained by experience,
that the rrotestant clergj' are much more secure from narm or
insult, and more certain of redress, shice tlie introduction of that
system than ever they were before.

The use to which these habitual revilers of the Irish people
hope to turn their calumnies is quite obvious. Tliey seek to
make such an impression on the public mind as to interrupt if pos-

262 Lord Midgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan .

sible that course of justice which is not to be parried or resisted
by fair and honourable means. " Are we to be told," says Lord
Roden, " that this is a favourable opportunity for entering,
amongst other things, into the consideration of the state of the
nmnicipal corporations, of its cities and towns, of entering upon
the consideration of measures which were to give more power,
more political power, to those very individuals who were the
instigators of the crimes he had detailed, the very cause from
whicn they sprung." His Lordship here, to use a most expres-
sive though vulgar phrase, lets the cat out of the bag. His
horror of the increased political power of the Irish people, is the
motive and cause for holding them up to the Imperial Parliament
and to the world as objects of general execration. Yet such
increase is inevitable. Sir Robert Peel foresaw it, when in 1827
he forewarned Mr. Canning of the sure and certain tendency of
the measure of Catholic relief which was brought forward that
year on the motion of Sir Francis Burdett; and he must have
made up his mind to such a result of his own Bill of 1829,
though now he is not averse to take advantage of any shabby
resource or suggestion to postpone it. His words upon that
occasion were almost prophetic, and contain a fine reproof to the
system of policy which the Tories, under his auspices, are despe-
rately but vainly endeavouring to enforce.

" I would here suggest a question to my Right Honourable friend.
I would say — when you have placed the Roman Catholics upon an
equality in point of law, do you really and fairly mean to admit them
to an equality in point of actual enjoyment of offices? And if you
do, do you hope to see at some future day that state of affairs, in which
a Roman Catholic and a Protestant shall be administering equally and
conjointly the concorns of a Protestant state, and a Roman Catholic
shall be found as efficient and constitutional a minister of a Protestant
Crown as a Protestant ? If you do not mean to say that you look for-
ward to this state of things — if you mean to give the Catholics nominal
equality, but feel it necessary in respect of these affairs to provide for
their practical exclusion, I say. Sir, that that practical exclusion cou-
pled with that nominal equality will be far more galling to them
than any political disability under which they at present labour, because
it will be an exclusion upon personal grounds."

Here is faithfully depicted that condition against which Ireland
is at this moment contending — " practical exclusion coupled with
nominal equality ;" and it is felt and resented for the reason
stated by the ex-premier, namely, that it is " an exclusion upon
personal grounds." The enemies to the complete Emancipation
of the Catholics, may veil their secret motives under an assumed
alarm for the safety of the Protestant religion, and the preserva-

\

18S6.] /rorrf Mulgrave and the Protcstantt of Ireland. 26S

tion of Protestant life and property ; but the true feeling by
which tliey are swayed is evident — a mean jealousy and desire to
exclude others, their equals " in point of law" (we thank Sir
Robert Peel for the qualified phrase), from tliat share in the
commonwealth which they would fain engross as heretofore, down
to the most trivial employments, for themselves, their relations,
their dependents, and their vassals.

The wise peer, to whose sayings we have already devoted so
much of our attention, has left an avowal of this feeling on record
in an attack which he made on a former government for includ-
ing the Catholics at all in their general measures of amelioration.
** He who is with them," exclaimed this enlightened statesman,
** must be against us !" His capacious mind could not conceive
how a government could embrace a whole people in its views of
justice. To approach such a system was to subvert all those
canons and doctrines of sound policy in which his comprehensive
genius had been formed and educated to adorn the legislative
council of this United Kingdom.

"I cannot help referring," said he to the Conservative Society
of Dublin, on the 28d of April 1832, " to one or two measures
which were introduced by Government since we last met together;
and 1 would appeal to any man whether the animux by which
those measures were dictated was not directly hostile to those
interests which ought to be supported by a British minister. In
the last debate in the House of Commons, do we not find Mr.
Stanley appealing to one of the Irish members, the member for
Louth, and asking him — ' Have we not done everything for you?
Have we not given you the Reform Bill ? Have we not given
you tlie Jury Bill ? Have we not given you the Education
Bill?' This was the apj>eal of the Secretary for Ireland to the
Member for Louth : ' Have we not,' said he, ' done everything
for you ?' And are we not then warranted in saying, that he
who is with them must be against us?"

These are the sentiments of a Comerratire Irish nobleman,
the chosen spokesman of a numerous and powerful party, who
pretend to the reputation of disinterested zeal, and claim the
title of " Natural protectors" of the people. Such protectors
they are, as the yew-tree is to the sickly flowers that vegetate
beneath it.

And now, reader, when you have sufficiently scanned the lights
and shades of that picture, look at this which follows — of a
generous and true-hearted stranger, who has come to Ireland to
administer the functions of authority, so as to do away with the
reproach of " nominal equality coupled with practical exclu-
sion."

264 Lord Mufgrave and the Protestants of Ireland. [Jan.

Lord Mulgrave most appropriately concludes his masterly
vindication oi his ffovernment, by manfully and frankly asserting
that ruling principle in which all its policy and excellence reside,
and the honest maintenance of which has brought upon him the
evil tongues and the irrepressible hatred of Tories in every
assembly and every rank oi society within the United Kingdom.

" Having stated thus much, I shall only, in coDclusion, observe, that,
as long as I possess the confidence of Her Majesty, I shall continue in
the steady pursuit of the course which I consider the best for the wel-
fare of the country entrusted to my charge. I have no other object io
view than the impartial distribution of justice to all ; in the words of
Lord Bacon, to treat the English and Irish as ' one nation.' In the
words of Mr. Peel, in 1816, I shall look to the influence of ' a kind
and paternal government, and to the extension of education,' to secure
the tranquillity of Ireland ; and whilst on one hand I will submit to the
dictation and control of no man, so on the other I shall be careful, in
the language of Lord Chesterfield, to ' proscribe' no man. The only
object which I shall have in view will be to attempt, in the humble
sphere of my utility, to cherish the confidence of my Sovereign, and to
unite in her service the hearts and affections of the Irish people."

We have abstained from entering into the examination of the
general state of Ireland, to which the debate on Lord Roden's
motion invites us, having but recently considered and discussed
the subject, and being very desirous at this time to draw parti-
cular attention to the pious fraud by which the interested foes of
Irish freedom are endeavouring to arouse the feelings of the
English public in favour of their monopoly. Our elder brother
in tne north has taken the larger view of the question, and dis-
posed of it with characteristic discrimination ; and the speech of
the Lord Lieutenant is in itself so complete and clear a refuta-
tion of the slanders which have been uttered against his govern-
ment, and at the same time so satisfactory an evidence of his ability,
his temper, and above all, his disposition for the great and good
work in which he is engaged, that the reader cannot apply to any
source more capable of affording him full and convincing infor-
mation upon all these points. It is enough for our present object,
if we have shown, as we trust we have, that the outcry of a reli-
gious persecution is a mere chimera, and that neither in the
efforts of the Irish people to obtain a just share in the manage-
ment of their own affairs, nor in the conduct of the government,
has the Protestant the least cause to apprehend danger to his
person, or insecurity to his possessions, or obstruction to that
mode of worship to which conscience or opinion may incline him.

18S8.] Miscellaneous Intelligence. 265

MISCELLANEOUS INTELLIGENCE.

[VV^E are sure our readers will be gratified by our reprinting
the second edition of tiie following admirable letter, which is
attributed, as we believe justly, to Dr. Lingard, We are in-
formed that several of the important alterations, which appear in
this edition, result from the suggestions of a most distinguished
Catholic Peer. — Ed.]

Letter to the Lord Chancellor, on the " Declaration' made and subscribed
by Her Majesty, on her throne in the House of Lords, previously to
the delivery of her most gracious Speech, to both Houses of Parlia-
ment, on Monday the 20th of November, 1837. — Second edition.
My Loud, — At the opening of Parliament our gracious Queen, in
accordance with Uie present state of the law, niade and subscribed
" the Declaration against Popery," in presence of the Lonls and Com-
mons of the United Kingdom, it was a novel and impressive spectacle,
witnessed, probably, by many, with feelings of joy and triumph, but
calculated to suggest to men of more sober judgment abundant matter
for deep and painful reflection.

The latter saw, with regret, a young and female sovereign brought
forward to act such a part at so early an age. For the declaration, be
it observed, is not a mere profession of belief in the doctrines of one
Church, and of disbelief in the doctrines of another : it goes much
fartlier ; it condemns, in the most solemn manner, the M'orship and prac-
tices of the greatest body of Christians in the world, and assigns to
them, without any redeeming qualification, the epithets of superstitious
and idolatrous.

Now, to exact such declaration and condemnation from the Queen,
at her accession to Uie throne, was tiiought both cruel and indecorous,
considering, on the one hand her youth, and on the other, that diligence
of enquiry, and maturity of judgment, which the proceeding, on her
part, necessarily presupposed. For it will not be denied, that before a
man may safely and consistently affix the stigma of superstition and
idolatry on any Church, it is incumbent on him to make the doctrine
and worship of that Church the subjects of his study ; to be satisfie<l, in
hb own mind, that he understands them correctly, and not merely as
they have been misrepresented by their adversaries ; and to weigh, with
impartiality, the texts and arguments by M-hich they may be assailed
and defended. But who can ex))ect all tliis from a young woman of
eighteen ?

Nor was it only cruel and indecorous with respect to the Queen, it
was ungracious also to a most numerous portion of her subjects. Of
all ihe insults which may be offered to a man, in his character of a
Christian, the most offensive, by far, is to brand him with the in-
famous name of idolator. Yet, this odious imputation was our young
and amiable sovereign compelled to cast upon the whole body of Uoman
Catholics in England, Scotland, Ireland, and her transmarine domi-
nions ; a body comprising, at the lowest computation, nine millions of
Iiersubjectsequally abhorrent of idolatry, equally sincere in the worship
VOL. IV. — NO. vii. * T

266 Miscellaneous Intelligence. [Jan.

of the only true God, with the most zealous of those who thus take
upon themselves to pronounce their condemnation. Nor was this all.
The declaration, in its sweeping censure, comprehends the whole
Catholic world ; and, therefore, by making it, the Queen was made to
pronounce her beloved friend, the consort of her uncle of Belgium,
an idolator ; her sister Queens of Spain and Portugal idolators. Of
the four parties to the quadruple alliance, she has declared all but her-
self to be idolators. Can she hope for the blessing of God on such an
alliance ?

But the fault was not with her. It lies in a vicious system of legis-
lation, by which she was as much controled as the meanest of her
subjects : a system which originated in passion and prejudice, during a
period of religious excitement, but which has long been giving way be-
fore the gradual development of more tolerant principles. So much
of it has been abolished, as was necessary for the object which its
framers had in view ; and so much only is retained, as may impose a
burthen on those in whose favour it was originally devised. At first, the
declaration was obligatory on all as a qualification for a seat in Parlia-
ment, or for admission to office : now it is required from Protestants.
Then it operated to the entire exclusion of Roman Catholics : now,
with the aid of a different text, Roman Catholics have free access to
the senate and the magistracy, to the courts of law, and the offices of
state.

For what object then, it may surely be asked, is the obligation of
taking and snbscribing this obnoxious form still imposed upon Pro-
testants ? — As a security for the Protestant worship ? But it offers
none : none on the part of the sovereign : for there cannot exist a
man so obtuse as to believe that the Queen was less a Protestant be-
fore, or became more a Protestant after she had subscribed the decla-
ration : none on the part of persons admitted to office or authority :
for office and authority are as completely thrown open to Roman Ca-
tholics, as if the declaration were a mere nullity.

For what end then is it still retained ? Certainly not for the pro-
duction of mischief, by generating heart-burnings and mbunderstand-
ings and divisions among a people, whose greatest strength must lie in
their union. Yet such is its obvious tendency. The evil may, in-
deed, be mitigated in numerous instances by the influence of civiliza-
tion and of personal character ; but dissension must prevail, as long as
one class of subjects shall be authorized by law to arrogate to them-
selves the proud and exclusive claim of purity of worship, and to look
down on the other class as on men living in the habitual practice of
idolatry, a crime accursed both of God and man.

The persons called upon to make and subscribe the declaration,
may be divided into three classes.

The first consists of the few, who having previously enquired, may
have come to the conclusion, that the doctrines and worship of the
Roman Catholic Church are superstitious and idolatrous; yet even
these hesitate when they reflect, that the same enquiiy has been made,
and the opposite conclusion been drawn, by men as competent to form
a correct judgment as themselves. «

1888.] Miaoellaneom fnteUigence. 26?

The second comprizes the greater number ; all those who perform
the act as a matter of course, without suspicion or consideration : but
who must still be conscious, that it is no justification of a doubtful
action, to allege that it is frequently done by others.

Lastly come those, who, aware of the difRculties with which the
declaration is beset, make it indeed, but make it not without reluctance
and many misgivings. Ry all in this class, and by many in the other
two, it is presumed, that the abolition of such a qualification for office*
would be welcome<l as a measure of relief.

Why then, it may again be asked, is this form, so revolting to the
feelings of some, so distressing to the consciences of others, and so un-
productive of benefit to any, suffered to remain on the statute book ?
Why should not the Legislature of this kingdom be content with that
which has been found amply sufficient for the purpose of government
io every other kingdom of Europe ; — that is, with a test of civic allegi-
ance, as a qualification for office in the state, and a test of doctrinal
adhesion as a (]ualification for office in the Church ? No reasonable
man can require more.

I have the honour to be, My Lord,

Your Lordship's most obedient servant.

I

Religion in Elgin. — In Elgin, the principal town in Morayshire, the
Congregation of Catholics have hitherto had no better religious accommo-
dation than the upper floor of a small house, situated in a back lane of
the town, and surrounded with various nuisances, and which is the only
place where mass is said within the county. The Catholics of Elgin
nave subscribed towards the erection of a decent place for public worship
most liberally, considering the smallness of their means ; and their
brethren in the adjacent missions, to whom the case is well known, have
also cheerfully contributed to the same object. But owing to the circum-
stances in which unfortunately the great part of the Catholics of Scotland
are placed, it has been found impossible to raise from this source alone
funas sufficient to defray, within a limited time, the expense of building
a chapel, or, of course, to justify those concerned for embarking in the
undertaking, without other assistance. For this reason, the Reverend
John Foi'bes, who has served for twenty-two years in various stations of
the Scotch Mission, and has been for ten years Pastor of Elgin, has
ventured to apply for aid towards building the proposed chapel, to the
nnwearied benevolence and religion of the Catholics of the sister king-
doms. Whatever Divine Providence may enable or incline any Catholic
to contribute on this occasion, will be given to a purpose most beneflcial
and necessary for the good of religion. Contributions will be received
by the Publishers, and forwarded to the Rev. Mr. Forbes.

Catholic Religion in Russia. — " An order of the Russian Govern-
ment has just been proclaimed, the substance of which is, that every
officer of the Russian army shall henceforth lose his rank, if, married to a
wife of the Catholic religion, he brings up his children, or suffers his wife
to bring them up, as Catholics. — Times, Nov. 15, quoting French paper.

[We shall feel obliged by being furnished with the means of contra-
dicting or confirming the foregoing statement. — Ed.]

t2

268 Mhcellaneoutt Intelligence. [Jan.

Catholic Religion and Literature in Germany. — "In all the
German stales," says Dr. Hoeninghans, (a learned Catholic convert,
in a work entitled ' Present state of the Roman Catholic Church over
the world,') " including those of Austria and Prussia, there were, in the
year 1833, 34,797,349 inhabitants, whose forefathers at the commence-
ment of the 16th century lived together in the unity of the Catholic
faith. The majority of Germans, comprehending 19,437,664 souls,
profess still at the present day the Roman Catholic religion. In the re-
maining portion of the population we find 15,036,885 Protestants of
various sects and denominations, 4,700 Greek schismatics, 300 Armenian
schismatics, and 318,000 Jews." — Present state of Catholicity, p. 162,
Aschaffenbui^, 1836.

Kingdom of Bavaria. — The Archbishopric of Munich. In this archie-
piscopal see, we find the following suffragan bishoprics : 1. The bishopric
of Passau, erected in the year 738, by St. Boniface, in virtue of the
sanction of Pope Gregory III., and committed to the care of bishop
Wiwils. 2. The bishopric of Augsburg. 3. The bishopric of Ratisbon,
erected in the 3'ear 738, by St. Boniface, in virtue of authority from
Pope Gregory III. — The next archbishopric is that of Bamberg. The
suffragan sees are the following : 1 . The bishopric of Eichstadt. 2. The
bishopric of Wiirzburg, erected by St. Boniface, who in virtue of powers
entrusted to him by Pope Zachary, instituted to this see St. Burchard
as first bishop. 3. The bishopric of Spires, in Rhenish Bavaria. — In
the whole kingdom of Bavaria, there are 181 deaneries, and 2,756
parishes. The reigning dynasty, as well as the majority of the inhabi-
tants of Bavaria, profess the Roman Catholic religion. In this kingdom
there are 2,990,000 Catholics, 1,220,000 Lutherans and Calvinists, and
6000 Herrnhutters and Mennonites or Baptists.

Grand Duchy of Baden. — Baden forms, together with Wurtembni^,
Hesse, Nassau, Frankfort, and Hohenzollern, the ecclesiastical province
of the Upper Rhine, which contains on the whole 1,725,000 Catholics,
subject to the metropolitan see of Freyburg and its suffragans. Rotten-
burg, Fulda, Mayence, and Limburg. In the grand duchy of Baden
itself, the majority of the inhabitants profess the Catholic faith. There
are 810,330 Catholics, 377,530 Evangelical Protestants, and 1,413
Mennonites or Baptists. The reigning dynasty since the sixteenth
century professes Protestantism ; but individual members of the royal
family have at various periods returned to the Catholic church.

The archbishopric of Freyburg embraces all Baden and the two prin-
cipalities of Hohenzollern. In Baden there are 35 Catholic deaneries,
and 723 parishes.

The Principality of Hohenzollem-Sigmaringen. — ^The princely house,
as well as the 42,000 inhabitants of this state, profess the Catholic re-
ligion. The 59 parishes belong to the archiepiscopal see of Freyburg, in
Baden.

The Principality of IIohenzollern-Hechingen. — In this the reigning
house, as well as its 21,000 inhabitants, belong to the Catholic church.
Its fourteen parishes are in the metropolitan diocessof Freyburg, in Baden.

Tk? Principality of Liechtenstein. — This state has also the inesti-

t

1838.] Mi$eeUaneous InteUigmce. S69

mable happiness of enjoying religious unity in truth, for both prince and
subjects, ^including 5,8U0 souls, in 1 1 cantons and one monastery), are
membeni of the Catholic church.

The Kingdom of Wurtemburg. — Wurterabunj still numbers •185,000
Catholics. The majority of the inhabitants arc Protestants, and mostly
Lutheran. The reigning house is Lutheran since the sixteenth century;
still various members of the royal family have, at different periods, re-
turned to the Catholic church. In this kingdom is the bishopric of
Rottenburg, a suffragan sec of Freyburg. Wurtemburg contains 645
Catholic parishes, 6 convents, 5 high-schools, and 787 ]>opular schools
for Catholic youth.

The Duchy of Nassau. — In this slate also the number of Catholics is
considerable, for we find 136,053 professors of that religion, and 193,483
Kvaiigelical, and 184 Mi-nnonite, Protestants. The ducal house became
Protestant in the sixteenth century ; but at different times various mem-
bers of that family have come over to the Catholic church. Here we
find the bi.shopric of Limburg, embracing all Nassau and tlie territory of
the free city of Frankfort. In the duchy of Nassau there are 15 Cathohc
deaneries, and 133 parishes.

The Free Cily of Frankfort. — In Frankfort there are more than 7000
Catholic inhabitants, who aix- under the spiritual jurisdiction of the bishop
of Limburg. There is but one parish.

The Grand Duchy of Uesse-ikinnstadt. — In this state there are not
fewer than 178,000 Catholics among 517,500 Protestants, who are partly
EvangeUcals, partly Lutherans, Calvinisls, and Mennonites. Two
members of the grand ducal house are Catholics, but the grand duke
himself is Protestant. In this stale there is the bishopric of Mayence.
The whole dioccss comprises 17 deaneries and 146 parishes.

The Landgrariate of Hesse-IIomburg. — In this little slate there are
3000 Catholics, in three parishes. The Protestant population amounts
to 20,000, of whom 14,000 are Calvinist, and 6,000 are Lutheran.

Periodical Press of Catholic Germany. — The following are
among the principal religious periodicals, quarterly, monthly, and
hebdomedal, which issue from the Catholic press of Germany. This
list will be not only useful to such of our readers as are acquainted with
the German language, but may serve to give the world at large an idea
of the religious zeal, and literary activity, of our Catholic brethren in
Germany. The first place is due to the excellent theological Quarterly
Review, published at Tubingen, and edited by the great theologians,
Hirscher, Herbst, Von Drey, Feilmoser, Mohler, and others. It is
entitled Theologische Quartatschrifl. 2. The excellent monthly journal,
Der Kalholik, published at Spires, and edited by the worthy and able
canons. Dr. Rass and Dr. Weiss. This is, we believe, the oldest among
the Catholic periodicals of Germany. 3. The Catholic literary jounial.
Die Katholische lilerafurzeitung, edited by Frederick von Kerz, the able
and learned continuator of Slolberg's history of the church. This
journal appears at Munich. 4. The AUgemeine Kircheti-Freund, fthe
Friend of the Church), an able and widely circulated periodical, pub-
lished at Wiirzburg, in Bavaria. 5. At Aschaffenburg, in the same

270 Miscellaneous Intelligence, [Jan.

country, appears an excellent ecclesiastical gazette, twice a week. This
journal, like others of the same kind in Germany, gives not only ecclesi-
astical intelligence, but contains very good original articles, and reviews
of new books. 6. At Augsburg, in the same state, appears another re-
ligious gazette, edited in a good spirit, entitled Sion. 7. The ecclesiastical
gazette, entitled Die Kirchenzeilung fur das Katholische Deutschland,
edited by Dr. James Sengler, and published at Marburg, in electoral
Hesse. It bears a high reputation. 8. At Freyburg, in Baden, the
celebrated Catholic clergyman. Dr. Hug, (author of the very learned
and masterly introduction to the New Testament, translated into English
by Dr. Waite), edited a theological journal some time back ; but whether
it be still continued we cannot say. 9. At Giessen, in Hesse Darm-
stadt, a Catholic theological periodical appears, which receives the power-
ful support of Dr. Staudenmaier, a young theologian of great merit, and
still greater promise. 10. At Vienna, Dr. Pletz edits an able and learned
theological journal. 11. At Breslaw, in Silesia, there has appeared,
since 1835, an ecclesiastical gazette, which Dr. Hoeninghaus terms
excellent. It is entitled Schlesische Kirchcnblalt. 12. At Bonn several
professors of its University edit a quarterly journal of Catholic theology
and philosophy, (Zeitschri/t fur Katholische Theologie und Philoso-
vhie) ; but this journal is in the interest of the Hermesians, whose theo-
logical opinions have been recently condemned by the Holy See. Some
of the best articles in this journal, however, have been written by orthodox
Catholics. 13. Lastly we must name the quarterly review of Vienna,
(Die Wiener Jahrbiicher fur die Literatur). This jounial was estab-
lished soon after the peace, on the model of our own English reviews,
and was intended to combine theology, philosophy, and general litera-
ture. It received the powerful support of Frederick Schlegel, Adam
Miiller, Schlosser, the Baron Gentz, and M. von Hammer. It soon ac-
quired the name of the most learned review in Germany ; and the
German Catholics might boast of a literary organ worthy of their faith.
But since the death of the illustrious F. Schlegel, the review has fallen
too much under the direction of the great orientalist, M. von Hammer,
who excludes theological articles. This is the more to be regretted, as
the Protestants have established at Berlin a very able organ for their re-
ligious opinions, entitled Jahrbiicher fur die wissenschaftliche Crilik.
Hence our readers will perceive that a gi'eat Catholic review, embracing
general literature and science, as well as theology, and adapted for gene-
ral readers, is now a desideratum in Germany. We understand that
the project of establishing a review of this kind at Munich has been for
some time on the tapis. It is possible that in the foregoing list, a kyr
journals may have escaped our notice ; but we can assure our readers
that it is nearly complete.

On another occasion we shall endeavour to give our readers a list and
short account of the imiversities, ecclesiastical seminaries, gymnasia or
public schools for the higher classes, the popular schools, and the schools
of industry, in Catholic Germany. Those in Protestant Germany shall
also occupy our attention at a future time.

1888.] MiKellaneous Intelliijence. 271

WEST r.SHUlTLEWORTH.

[The following decision it submitted to our readers, as ioToIring principle* of deep
interest to the Catholic body. The propriety of its reconsideration before the highest
tribunal, and of raising funds for that purpose, is submitted to the Catholic public,
who, at least, will be warned against falling into Mrs. Townsend's mistake. — Eo.]

Margaret Townsend, by her will dated the 25th of January 1814, after
giving certain pecuniary legacies, disposed of the residue of her property as
follows : — " As to all the rest of my estates and effects, I give and bequeath
th«t same to Sir Henry Law son of Brough, in the county of York, Bart., and
Simon Scroope of Danby in the same county. Esq., their executors and
administrators ; and I appoint John Carr of Belle Vue, Sheffield, Mr. John
Shuttleworth of Cannon Hall, near Sheffield, and Mr. John Fumiss of Shef-
field, joint executors of this my will ; and hereby revoking all former wills by
me made, I declare this only to be my last will and testament. In witness
whereof,! have hereunto set my hand and seal, this 20th day of January 1814. —
Margaret Townsend."

On the same day she wrote and signed the following testamentary paper : —
" Omitted in my will, chapels and priests. To the chapel of St. George's
Fields. London Road, £10; St. Patrick's Chapel, Sutton Street, iJlO ; Lich-
field Chapel, jGIO; the Reverend Rowland Broomhead, MancheJter, jG5 ;
the Reverend Mr. Gabb, Worksop, j£l.ls. ; the Reverend Mr. Duchem,
jGl.1.; the Right Reverend Mr. Smith, Durham, jCl. I.; the Reverend
Joseph Tristram, j£ I . Is.; the Reverend John Tristram, jC I. Is. Whatever
I have left to priests or chapels, it is my wish and desire the sums may be
paid as soon as possible, that I may have the benefit of their prayers and
maues. It is my desire that my vestments and whatever belongs to my
chapel may be divided betwixt Mr. Smith of Bolster Stone, Mr. Broomhead
of Sunnington, and Mr. Gillett of Rotherham. — 25th of January 1814."

The testatrix, on the same day on which her will was dated, addressed a
letter to Sir John Lawson and Simon Scroop, Esq., which letter was after her
death found enclosed in her will, and was in the following words : — Gentle-
men, I have herewith sent a duplicate of my will, whereby you will perceive
that I have taken the liberty of bequeathing the residue of my property to
you, in confidence that you will appropriate the same in the manner most
consonant to my wishes, which are as follows; namely, that the sum of £'10
each be given to the ministers of the Roman Catholic Chapels at Greenwich,
Sl George's in the Fields, Sutton Street, Soho Square, and York, for the
benefit of their prayers for the repose of my soul, and that of my deceased
htuhand George Toicnsetid, and that the remainder be appropriated by you
in such way as you may judge best calculated to promote the knowledge of the
Catholic Christian religion among the poor and ignorant inhabitants of Swale
Dale and Wenston Dale, in the county of York. — I have the honour to sub-
scribe myself, gentlemen, your very obedient servant, Margaret Townsend,
Sheffield, Eyre Street, 25lh of January 1814."

The testatrix died in February 1815, and her will, together with the first
testamentary paper above stated, was shortly afterwards proved by the execu-
tors named therein ; but the letter addressed to the trustees was not proved
as a testametary paper until 1834, after the original hearing of the cause.
The bill was fiiea by Anne West, the residuary legatee and personal repre-
sentative of the sole next of kin of the testatrix, against the surviving
executor, the representatives of the trustees, and the Attorney-General. The
bill charged that the imadministeted personal estate of tlie testatrix, in the
hands ol the executors, arose from monies due upon real securities to the

272 Miscellaneous Intelligence. [Jati.

testatrix at the time of her decease, and the Plaintiff claimed to be entitled
thereto by virtue of ilie statute of 1) G. 2. c. 36. (Statute of Mortmain.)

At the hearing of the cause, it was, among other things, referred to the
Master to inquire what proportion of the residue of the testator's personal
estate consisted of pure personalty, and what proportion of personal estate
arising from mortgages, or otherv^ise connected with realty; and the Master
by his report found, that out of 2913/. 16*. 7d. 3 per cent, consols, the residue
of the testator's general personal estate, the sum of 2479/. 13s. like annuities,
arose from personal estate connected with realty, and that the remaining sum
of 434/. 3s. 7d. 3 per cent, consols arose from pure personal estate.

Mr. Bickersteth and Mr. Belhell, for the Plaintiff.

If the legacies given by this testatrix are void, and there is, moreover, no
indication of any charitable purpose on the part of the testatrix, they will fail
altogether, and the next of kin will be entitled to the benefit of the failure.
The gifts to priests and chapels for the purpose of obtaining prayers and
masses for the repose of the soul of the testatrix, and the soul of her deceased
husband, are gifts to a superstitious use, and consequently void, either by
virtue of the statute of I Edw. 6. c. 14 ; or, if not falling within the supersti-
tious uses expressly mentioned in the statute, void as against the policy of the
law. There is no purpose of charity indicated by these gifts ; no benefit was
intended to be conferred by the testatrix upon the priests ; her own benefit,
and that of her deceased husband, were the only objects which she contem-
plated ; and as the law will not give effect to a superstitious use, the next of
kin are as much entitled to the benefit of the failure as if she had expressly
devoted a part of her real estate to a charitable purpose. The gift of the resi-
due to be applied in such manner as may best promote the knowledge of the
Catholic Christian religion among the poor and ignorant inhabitants of Swale
Dale and Wenston Dale, being a gift for the purpose of propagating a religion
other than that of the stale, is equally void, as contrair to the policy of the
law : Gary t>. Abbott, De Costa v. De Paz, Moggridge v. Thackwell, De
Bonneval v. De Theramines, Attorney-General v. Power.

Mr. Lynch and Mr. Purvis, for the pereonal representative of Sir H.
Law son.

The gifts to chapels and priests, for the benefit of the prayers and masses
which the testatrix desired to be said for the repose of her soul, are in the
nature of rewards for services to be performed, and there is no ground for
supposing that the testatrix desired such prayers and msases to be said in per-
petuity ; on the contrary, the small amount of the sums given, and the direc-
tion for the immediate payment of those sums, are inconsistent with that sup-
position. The trust, therefore, so far as it respects those gifts, is neither void
hy the statute of superstitious uses, as ii is called, nor by rea.son of its being
contrary to the policy of the law. There is, in fact, no statute, as has been
observed by Sir William Grant, making superstitious uses void generally, the
statute of Edw. 6. relating only to superstitious uses of a particular descrip-
tion then existing : Gary v. Abbot. And even if the gift could be shewn to
fall within the class of uses declared or recognised by the statute of Edw. 6.
as superstitious, that statute would have no application, as the contest here is
only for personal estate; and the fifth and sixth sections of the statute, which
vest in the Crown gifts for the maintenance of obits and other like things,
apply only to real estate.

With respect to the gift of the residue, which is to be appropriated in such
way as the trustees may judge best calculated to promote the knowledge of
the Catholic Christian religion among the poor inhabitants of the particular
districts mentioned, tliat might have been held to be void, as contrary to the

18S8.] Miscellaneoiu Intelligence. S78

p:iHcy of the law previously to the passinfi^ of the late acts for the relief of hU
Majesty's Roman Catholic subjects, but it is now a perfectly valid bequest
By the 31 G. 3. c. 32, relief was aflforded, upon certain conditions, agiiinst the
severe enactments relating to Popish recusauts passed in the reigns of Eliza-
beth and James ; but that act, nevertheless, contained a provision, that all
dispositions of properly before deemed to be superstitious or unlawful should
continue so ; and it wns upon tliat ground, that in Cary r. Abbot, Sir William
Grant held a bequest for the purpose of educating and bringing up poor chil-
dren in the Roman Catholic faith to be void, as contrary to the policy of the
law. Whether that decision was or was not founded upon too narrow a view
of the remedial purpose and effect of the 31 G. 3. c. 32. it is now unnecessary
to consider ; for the late act of his present Majesty has put beyond all ques-
tion the validity of bequests, the object of which is to promote the education
of Roman Catholics, and their instruction in the tenets of the Roman Catholic
religion. The Catholic Relief Act (10 G. 4. c. 7.) left it still open to some
doubt how far his Majesty's Roman Catholic subjects were relieved from
disabilities in respect of their right of holding property given for the purposes
of education and religi JUS instruction ; and that doubt was removed by the
2 \ 3 W. 4. c. 115, which places Roman Catholics upon exactly the same
footing as Protestant di^»sente^s, in respect to their school;:, places for religious
worship, education, and charitable purposes in Great Britain, and the property
held therewith, and the persons employed in and about the same. That act
has been held by Ix)rd Brougham, in the recent case of Bradshaw r. Tasker,
to be retrospective ; and such being the state of the law, the only question
now is, whether such a trust as is raised by this testatrix in behalf of Roman
Catholics, and for the purpose of giving instruction in the tenets of the Roman
Catholic religion, would be a valid trust if raised in behalf of Protestant dis-
senters, and with a view to religious instruction in the particular doctrines
held by Protestant dissenters, or any class of them. Whatever the law may
be as applied to Protestant dissenters in respect of their education and reli-
gious worship, such is now the law to be applied to Roman Catholics. In the
Attorney-General r. Pearson, I^rd Eldon says, " It is clearly settled that, if
a fund, real or personal, be given in such a way that the purpose be clearly
expressed to be that of maintaining a society of Protestant dissenters, pro-
moting no doctrines contrary to law, although such as may be at variance
with the doctrines of the established religion, it is then the duty of this (/ourt
to carry such a trust as that into execution." Now the doctrines of the Roman
Catholic church, although at variance with the doctrines of the established
church, are no more contrary to law than the doctrines of any class of Pro-
testant dissenters ; they are now placed by law on precisely the same footing;
and, if a bequest for promoting instruction in the one be valid, such a bequest
must be equally valia with respect to the other.

Mr. Wray, (ox tlie Attorney-General, disclaimed any disposition to narrow
the construction to be fairly put upon the 2 ^ 3 W. 4. c. 115. ; but he sub-
mitted that, looking to the preamble of that act, and to its object, which was
to remove doubts as to the right of Roman Catholics to acquire and hold pro-
perty necessary for religious worship, education, and charitable purposes, it
could never have been the intention of the legislature, in canning into effect
that limited purpose, to change the whole policy of the law as it applied to
doctrines other tnan those of the established church, and to sanction the un-
limited propagation of the Roman Catholic religion. A gift for the purpose
of propagating the Jewish or any other religion contrary to tliat of the estab-
lished church was illegal ; but such a gift indicated a charitable purpose,
which the Crown was entitled to carry into effect by applying the bequest,
under the sign manual, to some lawful object : De Costa v.* De Paz.

274 Miscellaneous InieWujence. [Jan.

Mr. Parker, for the surviving executors.
Mr. Bickersteth, in reply.

The gifts to the ministers of the Catholic chapels for the purpose of obtain-
ing prayers and masses for the repose of the testatrix's soul cannot be con-
sidered as gifts for the performance of a temporary service ; for it was clearly
the intention of the testatrix that such prayers and masses should be continued
for an indefinite period, or at any rate for as long a period as her soul might
continue in purgatory. It is obvious that no personal benefit was intended to
the ministers ; it is a g^ft for a purpose in its nature superstitious, and void,
therefore, as contrary to the policy of the law, independently of the statute of
Edw. 6.

With respect to the gift of the residue, it is not disputed that by the Catholic
Christian religion, the knowledge of which is to be promoted among the poor
and ignorant inhabitants of Swale Dale and Wenston Dale, the testatrix
meant the Roman Catholic religion. " To promote the knowledge of the
Roman Catholic religion" might mean to promote the knowledge of the errors
of that religion, and thereby to confirm and establish in a purer faith the per-
sons among whom such knowledge was disseminated ; ana, if that construc-
tion could be put upon the words, the bequest might well be carried into effect
by instructing the poor and ignorant inhabitants of Swale Dale and Wenston
Dale in the Protestant religion. But this was manifestly not the object of a
testatrix professing the Roman Catholic religion, and it cannot be denied that
her object was to induce persons who previously did not believe in the Roman
Catholic religion to become converts to it — to make proselytes — and to pro-
mote the spread of the Roman Catholic religion at the expense of congrega-
tions professing other modes of belief. If, then, it was the intention of the
testatrix to make proselytes, this is a trust which cannot be carried into execu-
tion by this Court ; for if it were capable of being so carried into execution,
what would be the consequence? The Court must refer it to the Master to
approve of a scheme whereby the Roman Catholic religion may be promoted
in the most effectual manner. It is perfectly clear that the legislature, in
pdssing the late act, could never have intended to sanction such a consequence
as this. It is said that the 2 & 3 W. 4. c. 115. is declaratory of the intentions
of the legislature, which were not, in this respect, declared with sufficient ex-
plicitness in the Catholic Relief Act, and that the act of W. 4. places Roman
Catholics and Protestant dissenters exactly upon the same footing in respect
of their schools and places of religious worship, education, and charitable pur-
poses. No one who rightly appreciates the late salutary enactments for the
relief of his Majesty's Roman Catholic subjects can desire to narrow their just
constmction ; but it should be borne in mind that by the late act Roman
Catholics are to be " subject to the same laws as the Protestant dissenters are
subject to in England in respect to their schools and places for religious
worship, education, and charitable purposes, and not farther or otherwise."
If, therefore, this testatrix had left her property for the benefit of persons pro-
fessing the Roman Catholic religion, or if she had left it for the purpose of
maintaining a Roman Catholic church or school, such a bequest would have
been a good charitable legacy. But it is a totally different thing to leave a
provision for the purpose of making proselytes ; and such a bequest would be
equally unlawful whether the religion to which proselytes were sought to be
made were the Roman Catholic, the Jewish, the Presbyterian, or any other
religion different from that of the established church. All the authorities sup-
port this view of the subject.

In De Costa v. De Paz, Lord Hardwicke decided that a bequest for the
maiuteuance of a Jesiba or assembly for daily reading the Jewish law, and for

f

1888.] Miscellaneous Intellitjence. 275

adrancing or propagating the Jewish reliirion, was unlawful, ** the intent of
the bequest hem;; in contradictiom to the Cbrisliun religion, which is a part
of the law of the land, which is so laid down by Lord Hale and Lord Ray-
mond ; and undoubtedly is so, for the constitution and policy of this nation is
founded thereon." I^ord Hardwiclce at first doubted whether the next of kin
were not entitled to the void bequest, but he afterwards decided that the dona-
tion wa<i a charitable use, and that the power of appointing to what lawful
charitable purpose the bequest should be applied devulved upon the crown.
It is to be obser^'ed, however, that Ix)rd Eldon in commenting upon this case
in Moggridge v. Thackwell, does not concur with Lord Hardwicke in con-
sidering the bequest a charitable use ; for he says, he should not have dis-
oovereo that it was a charitable bequest in the intention of the testator. No
one can doubt that the same principle would be equally applicable to a trust
for promoting and propagating the particular doctrines of Unitarian dissenters,
or of the Presbyterian church, or any mode of religious belief or worship dif-
fering from the established religion, because, if such a trust could be executed
and administered by this Court, it would follow that the Court must direct the
Master to approve of a scheme for promoting the spread of Unitarian or Presby-
terian doctrines, or whatever mode of religious belief it might be the object of
the trust to advance and propagate. The bequest then being for a purpose
which is contrary to the policy of the law, and no charitable purpose being
indicated, fails altogether, and the next of kin will be entitled to the residuary
estate of the testatrix.

The Masiek of the Rolls.

The testatrix in this case, after giving several legacies, some of which were
for charitable purposes, as to the residue of her estate and effects, bequeathed
the same to Sir Henry Lawson and Simon Scroop, and she appointed John
Carr, John Shutlleworth, and John Funiiss, her executors. There is then a
paper entitled " Omitted in my will, chapels and priests. To the chapel of
St. George's Fields, London Road, 10/. ; to St. Patrick's chapel, Sutton Street,
10/.; U» Lichfield chapel, 10/." Several small legacies are then enumerated
to several clergymen by name, and then comes this note : " Whatever I have
leA to priests and chapels it is my wish and desire the suras may be paid as
soon as possible, that I may have the benefit of their prayers and masses."
There is then a letter si^ined by the testatrix and addressed to Sir John Lawsun
and Simon Scroope, which has been proved as testamentary, as follows: —
" Gentlemen, I have herewith sent a duplicate of my will, whereby you will
perceive that I have taken the liberty of bequeathing the residue of my pro-
perty to you, in confidence that you will appropriate the same in the roauuer
most consonant to my wishes, which are as follows : — that the sum of 10/. each
be given to the ministers of the Roman Catholic chapels of Greenwich, St.
George's in the fields, Sutton Street, Soho Square, ana York, for the benefit
of their prayers for the repose of my soul, and that of my deceased husband
George Townsend, and that the remainder be appropriated by you in such
waj as you may judge best calculated to promote the knowledge of the Catholic
Christian religion amongst the poor and ignorant inhabitants of Swale Dale
and ^^'enston Dale, in the county of York.

These legacies are objected to upon two grounds : first, as to the legacies
to the priests and chapels, upon the ground that they are for superstitious uses,
and therefore void ; and secondly, as to the residue, because it is given for the
express purpose of promoting the tloman Catholic religion.

I shall first consider the objection to the gift of the residue. The staL
2 *<- 3 W. 4. c. lid, puts persons professing the Roman Catholic religion upon
the same footing with respect to their schools, places for religious worship.

276 MisceUaneotui InteUiyence. [Juii.

education, and charitable purposes, as Protestant dissenters ; and the case of
Bradshaw v. Tasker decided that the act was retrospective, and tliat the third
section did not exclude the legacies in question in the cause from the opera-
tion of the act, because the suit was only for the administration of the estate.
In the present case, the bill filed by the next of kin claimed the property, as
inapplicable, under the statute of mortmain, to any charities, and not because
it was given to promote the Catholic religion, or to give instruction to those
who profess it ; and the letter which raises the question as to the residue was
not proved until the 15ih of January 1834, so that it cannot be said that the
property in question was in litigation, discussion, or dispute, upon the point
now contended for at the time the act passed in 1832.

This act makes it unnecessary to consider what was the state of the law,
before it passed, with respect to such dispositions of property in favour of
Roman Catholics. It is only necessary to inquire what is now the state of the
law with respect to similar dispositions of property in favour of Protestant dis-
senters. The trust is to appropriate the residue in such a way as the trustees
shall judge best calculated to promote the knowledge of the Catholic Chris-
tian religion among the poor and ignorant inhabitants of certain places named.
In the case of Bradshaw v. Tasker, the gift was in favour of certain Catholic
schools, and to be applied towards carrying on the good designs of the said
schools. Now, can it be said that to promote the carrying on the good designs
of Catholic schools differs in principle from promoting the knowledne of the
Catholic Christian religion amongst the poor and ignorant ? In Attorney-
General V. Pearson, Lord Eldon says, that the Court v*ill administer a fund
given to maintain a society of Protestant dissenters promoting no doctrine con-
trary to law, although such as may be at variance with the doctrine of the
established church. In Attorney-General v. Hickman, a legacy was estab-
lished, which was given for encouraging such nonconfojming preachers as
preach God's word in places where the people are not able to allow them a
sufficient and suitable maintenance, and for encouraging the bringing up
some to the work of the ministry who are designed to labour in God's vine-
yard among the dissenters, leaving the particular mode to the trustees. Waller
V, Cbilds, and the cases which continually occur of funds left to support the
chapels and schools of dissenters, proceed upon the same principle, and leave
no doubt in my mind of the validity in law of the gift of the residue.

The gifts to priests and chapels remain to be considered, and these are not
affected by the 2 & 3 W. 4. c 115, which applies only to schools, places foi
religious worship, education, and charitable purposes. Taking the first gift to
priests and chapels in connection with the letter, there can be no doubt that
the sums given to the priests and chapels were not intended for the benefit of
the priests personally, or for the support of the chapels for general purposes,
but that they were given, as expressed in the letter, for the benefit of their
prayers for the repose of the testatrix's soul and that of her deceased liu.sband ;
and the question is, whether such legacies can be supported. It is truly observed
by Sir William Grant, in Cary v. Abbot, that there was no statute making
superstitious uses void generally, and that the statute of Edw. f». related only
to supei-stitious uses of a particular description then existing ; and it is to be
observed that that statute does not declare any such gift to be unlawful, but
avoids certain superstitious gifts previously created. The legacies in question,
therefore, are not within the terms of the statute of Edw. 6., but that statute
has been considered as establishing the illegality of certain gifts, and, amongst
others, the giving legacies to priests to pray for the soul of the donor, has, in
many cases collected in Duke, been decided to be within the superstitious
uses intended to be suppressed by that statute. I am therefore of opinion
that these legacies to priests and chapels are void.

I

1838.] Miscellaneous IntellUjence. £77

What then is to become of the amount of such lej^cies ? The statute of
Edw. H. inres to the Kin^ such property devoteil to superstitious uses as that
act affects ; but the legacies in question are not within the terms of the act,
but are void on account of the general illegality of the object they were in-
tended to answer. It has beeu decided, that where legacies are given to
charities, which charities cannot take effect, the object being considered as
superstitious, then the duty of appropriating the amount to other charitable
purposes devolves upon the Crown, as in Gary r. Abbot ; but in that case and
the cases there cited, the object of the gift was clearly charity. In the present
case, according to the construction I have put upon these legacies, there was
nothing of charily in their object ; the intention was not to benefit the priests,
or to support the chapels, but to secure a supposed benefit to the testatrix her-
self. Upon what ground, then, can the Crown claim ? Not by virtue of 1
Edw. 6., for the case is not within that act ; and not upon the ground of the
money given being devoted to charity, the mode of applying which devolves
upon the Crown. Doubts have been entertained how far it was correct to give
to the Crown for the purpose'of beini? applied to charity, funds given for chari-
table purposes which are illegal, as in the case of Corbyn v. French, and in
De Garcia r. Lawson, in the note to that case ; but in all such cases charity
was the object of the gift; and how can the claim of the C'rown attach to gifts
Toid because superstitious, but of which charity was no part of the object ?
These gifts are void because illegal ; and as they therefore cannot take effect,
and as the Crown cannot claim either under 1 Edw. 6., or upon the authorities
which give to the Crown the right to direct the application of charity legacies,
which cannot be carried into effect according to the directions of the donor, I
am of opinion that the next of kin are entitled.

REVIEW OF NEW WORKS.

The Napoleon Medals ; a complete Series of the Medals struck in
France, Italy, Great Britain, and Germany, from the commencement
of the Empire in ISO^ to the Restoration in 1815. — Engraved by
the process of Achilles Collar, with Historical and Biographical
Notices. Edited by Edward Edwards. — London : Henry Her-
ing, 1837.
We have never been able to account for the singular indifference of
the English as a nation to the science of Numismatics. While every
other branch of the Fine Arts has received some degree of encourage-
ment. Numismatics alone have been wholly neglected. One would
almost be tempted to think there was something in the minute elegance
and classical taste so properly constituting the excellence of medals
and coins, absolutely uncongenial to the feelings of our countrj'men ;
for while this art has l)een advancing in other countries, we fear it has
been retrograding in this. It is within our knowledge that for the last
century no one professor of this branch of art has been able to live
solely by its practice — always excepting those who have been employed
in the Mint to engrave the coin. We hope it will be among the boasts
of the nineteenth century that it has remedied this glaring defect, and
rescueil our countrjmen from the charge of indifference to the very
best means of transmitting to posterity an accurate knowledge of the
histor)' of our own times.

278 Miscellaneous IntelUyence. [Jan.

The work before us is well calculated to improve our taste and pro-
mote inquiry into the subject. It is a faithful — we had almost said a
complete transcript of the most remarkable series of medals now
extant. The new process by which the plates have been engraved is
very ingeniouus, and the result is far more satisfactory than the feeble
outlines to which we have hitherto been accustomed in the best works
upon such subjects. The letter -press seems to be well done — it has
one merit which we wish were more common ; — the Latin mottoes are
translated — a very desirable thing in a work of art which is intended to
delight and instruct both sexes and all classes. We wish that the Medal
which has been struck to commemorate Her Majesty's Visit to the
City, could be recommended to the patronage of the public.

Present State of the Controversy between the Protestant and Roman
Catholic Churches. By Hunter Gordon, Esq. of Lincoln's Inn. —
London : G. B. Whitaker, 1837.

The prevalent feeling in this country on the Controversy alluded to,
presents a strong contrast to the indifference on the subject exhibited
in France, as evidenced in our article on Saint -Simonism. The author
of this little work has discovered that the success of the Catholic
Church is to be traced up entirely to the principle of authority, and
he sketches the working of her system with great eloquence and vigour.
He falls into the natural Protestant mistake of attributing this system
and its splendid results to human contrivance and organization, and his
argument is directed to the introduction of a similar organization into
the Established Church, as a panacea for all her dangers and difficul-
ties. We recommend this small Treatise to our readers, who will
readily perceive the error into which the author has fallen, and will
be gratified by his involuntary testimony in favour of our Holy Reli-
gion.

•#♦ The usual Quarterly Account of Continental Publications for the
past quarter will appear in our next JSTumber,

C. RICHARDS, PRINTER, ST. MARTIN's (.ANE, LONlfoN.

THE

DUBLIN REVIEW.

APRIL, 1838.

Art. l.—T7ie Dublin University Calendars for 1833-4-5-6-7.

rr^HE consideration of the question, whetlier Catholics are
I legally eligible to Scholarships, and Dissenters to both
Scholarships and Eellowships, in the University of Dublin, has
for some time pjist occupied our attention. In the article on
the Irish and English Universities in our Second Number,
the general injustice and impolicy of excluding Catholics and
Dissenters from those offices, and of giving a literary monopoly
to any sect whatever, were so fully exposed as to render farther
observations entirely unnecessar}'. The propriety of throwing
these offices open to the community at large, is not, as it may
seem to be, a question of mere local importance, but one that
most intimately affects all classes of British subjects, however
remotely situated, who feel in any way interested in the advance-
ment of etlucation. To the Dissenters particularly, of all parts
of the empire, this subject should be one of engrossing inipor-
tance. For years past they have been struggling to obtain ad-
mission to Oxford and Cambridge, but their appeals have been
resisted by the heads of those Universities, with a narrow-minded
bigotry, which is directly at variance with their own hackneyed
professions, that the extension of the principles of the Established
Church will always be in exact proportion with the progress of
knowledge and civilization. In consequence of this hostility,
the Dissenters of Great Britain have been at length obliged to
resort to the expedient of founding a university tor themselves.
During all this time, we have been wondering why those gentle-
men did not turn tlieir attention to the Dublin University, which
was willing to receive them within its arms, on terms far superior
to those which either of the two former establishments could
offer them. Lest some of our readers may be startled by this
assertion, we shall here, very briefly* allude to a few of the ad-
vantages which that University holds forth.

Firstly. In it — Trinity College, Dublin — the religious prin-
ciples of the students are never interfered with, except in the
instance to which we shall immediately refer. On entering it,

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. u

282 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

they are required to mention the particular faith which they
profess, and if they call themselves anything; but Protestants of
the Established Church, no question on relif^ious matters is ever
afterwards put to them. In this particular, those students who
are without the pale of the Established Church, enjoy an advan-
tage over those who are within it, as they are not required to
attend chapel or catechetical examinations. Secondly. All the
expenses, from the time of entrance to that of obtaining the
degree of Bachelor of Arts, amount to only £82. 17*. 6rf.*
Thirdly. They can live all that time, a period of four years,
either in the College or wherever they please, provided only
that they attend two examinations in each year. And thus the
injurious effects of sending young men to Oxford or Cambridge,
and freeing them at the most critical period of their existence
from the restraints of the parental authority, may be effectually
obviated. Fourthly. The one-third of the ordinary course
there, is much more extensive than the entire of the ordinary
course at either of the former Universities. And, fifthly. All
honours being given to well-tried merit alone, after public im-
partial examinations, the students have a feeling of emulation
excited amongst them, which makes those possessed of any ordi-
nary quantity of intellect, devote themselves to study for the
purpose of acquiring those distinctions. In consequence of this,
and particularly in consequence of those distinctions being so
frequently contended for in each year, the habits of dissipation
so prevalent at Oxford and Cambridge, are very seldom known
there, the diligent and successful prize-man being a greater
object of attraction than the wealthy and profligate spendthrift.
Thus the possession of mind more than of money being the
source of distinction there, those who are blessed with moderate
fortunes, or have none at all, flock to it, while the rich fly from
it. It is not because the course of education there is not as
good as that at Oxford or Cambridge, but because it is better

* This applies only to " pensioners," who compose the vast majority of the stu-
dents. The Fellow Commoners pay exactly double this sum, and the Sizars pay
nothing, except £5. \i. 3<f. as entrance fees. The following is a table of the half-
yearly charges, including tuition, but exclusive of rooms and commons — as it appears
in the volumes before us : —

Entrance inclnding
the first half-year. Half-year.

£. 5. d. £, s. d.

Nobleman 60 0 0 SO 0 0

Fellow Commoner 30 0 0 15 0 0

Pensioner 15 0 0 7 10 6

Sizar 5 13 0 0 0

As, " to take the degree of Bachelor of Arts, the student, if a pensioner, must keep
four academic years— i.e. he must pass at least eight term examinations," he baa
to pay the charges for four years, exclusive of the first half-year, which, with the
charge of the degree, £7. lis, 6d., make up the gross sum of £82r lls.Qd,

1888.] Trwihj College, Dublin. Mt

and more extensive, and that they should know it tolerably
at least to obtain their degree, that these Bceotians fly from it
to those places where they may get a degree almost for the asking.

These are a few of the many advantages which this University
possesses above those at Oxford and Cambridge — but the rest
of them we have not now eitlier time or space to enumerate.
We are at a loss to conceive, why the Dissenters of Great Britain
do not more generally embrace these advantages than they have
hitherto done. For though several of them annually graduate
here, yet these bear no proportion to the vast numbers of the
members of the dissenting sects throughout that portion of the
United Kingdom. The only reason which we can itnagine for
this apparent indifference to a university education is, that per-
haps they were deterred by the distance between this capital and
the several parts of the sister isle, in which they happened to
reside. If this has hitherto been the cause, surely the railways
now in progress or in contemplation through every part of the
country, must annihilate all impediments of this nature. We
trust, therefore, that this numerous and respectable class of people
will duly appreciate the various moral and other advantages
which this University possesses above Oxford or Cambridge,
and that they will call on their representatives to support tlie
measure, which we will proceed to recommend for adoption.

In every point but one, we deem Trinity College, Dublin, to be
the best regulated University, and the best adapted for encourag-
ing and promoting literature, that now exists in any portion of the
British dominions. It is, however, like most institutions, liable to
many objections, and particularly to the following, namely, that
though persons of every creed are admitted to contend for all the
literary prizes, to which honour alone is attached, all those which
have any permanent emoluments ap{x?rtaining to them, such as
Scholarships and Fellowships, are appropriated to Protestants of the
Establishment exclusively.* We will, however, show that Catho-
lics arc justly and legally eligible to Scholarships, and Dissenters
to both Scholarships and tellowships ; and that the system, by
which they are excluded from these offices respectively, is a
fraudulent usur{)ation by the members of the Established Church,
in violation of all the charters and statutes of the University, of
the common law of the land, and of several acts of parliament.

* 8izanhip« are, certainly, opea to person* of all religiou* denoiQinaiions, but
the emnlurocnts attached to them arc so very trivial, that it is scarce worth while to
take them into account. Perhaps the reason for leaving them thus open is, that
they sene Ui introilucc Into the UniTcmily, poor CaUiollc and Dissenting students,

■ who, by th«- temptations of scholarships, and fellowships, and certain other " ingeni-

■ ous devices," are made to see the errors of their way, and become in due time, cea-
\m lous aad disinterested supporters of Protestantism, as by law established

I

284 Trinity College^ Dublin. [April,

The laws respecting this subject are in general unknown to
the public, and to nineteen-twentieths of the students themselves.
For though every student, on the day of his matriculation, gets
a copy of the charters and statutes of the College, as the code
in which his collegiate rights and duties are define<l, yet, as they
are couched chiefly in modern Latin, and the students do not
conceive themselves particularly interested in their contents,
they are seldom conveyed by them beyond the gates of the
University. It is generally taken for granted by those who have
not attentively read the charters and statutes, that there are
clauses in them securing Scholarships, Fellowships, and the other
offices of trust and profit in the University to members of the
Established Church exclusively, and declaring that the College
was intended by its founders for the support, protection, and

{)ropagation of Protestantism " according to law." Before we
eave this subject, we shall prove to the satisfaction of every
impartial person, that both these suppositions, so far from having
any foundation whatsoever in the charters and statutes, are
directly repugnant to their whole tenor and spirit, and also to all
the historical evidence of the period, as to the motives on which
the University was originally endowed and established.

Before we proceed farther, it may not be improper to give
some account of the value of the prizes to which we thus seek
to draw public attention. Scholars have their commons free of
expense, and their rooms for half the charge paid by pensioner;
they pay for tuition, but are exempted from college charges or
decrements, and receive from the College an annual salary.
They hold their Scholarships till they become, or might have be-
come. Masters of Arts. As it is generally in the junior sophister,
or third year of the undergraduate course, that the students
stand candidates for Scholarships, they therefore may hold it for
little less than a period of five years. But it is not merely the
immediate pecuniary advantage thus arising, that makes it so
great an object of competition, but the distinction, the honour,
and the name, which is attached to it, as the criterion and
reward of classical proficiency, and which is so highly valued, as
annually to induce several, who were previously Dissenters or
Catholics, to swallow (may we be excused the expression ?) the
sacramental test of Church of England orthodoxy. The number
of scholars is seventy. A Fellowship is the highest prize that this
or any other university in the world holds out to literary merit.
The Fellow has chambers and commons free of expense, a salary,
we believe, of £60 per annum, and eight guineas a year for each
pupil that enters under him.* This he holds for life, or till he

• So many j)ii[)ils had the present Lord Hishop of Killaloe, wlien a junior fellow, that
it was currently btatcd that lie made £SO,00U by them, before he rosd* to a senior's rank.

1888.] Trinittj Colleye, Dublin. 285

resigns, marries, is advanced to a benefice, or becomes a senior
fellow, when he receives £3000 a year at the lowest. The exact
amonnt is not known, as tlie College Board observes such ex-
traordinary secrecy with regard to its funds, that it compels the
bursar, who by statute must be one of the senior fellows, to
keep all the accounts himself, without the assistance of a clerk,
lest the public might discover by any means the extent of its
revenues. The number of senior fellows is seven : the number
of jiujioris eighteen. The average value of a junior fellowship is
generally estimated at something about £600 per atnum).

As the principal reason, for which these offices are enjoyed
exclusively by professing members of the Established Church,
it is urged, that the Universitv was always a Protestant institu-
tion, and designed especially for the promotion of the doctrines
of that Church. We shall show, by a very brief retrospect of
the history of this College,* and of the period in which it was
erected, that this is a false and unfounded assumption, and that
the College was designed for the diffusion of general literature
among Irishmen of all creeds without distinction, and not for
the propagation of the dogmas of reformed theologians. The
following account of its foundation, we take verbatim from
the first number of the volumes before us : —

"At the dissolution of the monasteries in Ireland under Henry VIII,
the mayor and citizens of Dublin were granted the scite, ambit, or
precinct of the dissolved Augustinian Monastery of All Saints, lying
within the suburbs of that city. Arciibishop Loftus judging this a
convenient situation for the intended college, applied to the mayor
and citizens, and in two elaborate speeches, in which he laid before
them the Queen's intention of founding a university in Ireland, and the
great advantage of such a society to the city, he prevailed on them to
grant the said Monastery of All Hallows, with the adjoining land, for
the pur|>ose. The Archbishop, liaving thus far succeeded, employed
Henry Ussher, then Archdeacon of Dublin, and afterwards Arch-
bishop of Armagh, to petition the Queen for her royal charter, and
for a mortmain license for the land granted by the city. The Queen
received the petition favourably ; and, by a warrant dated 29th Decem-
ber 1591, ordered a license of mortmain to pass the seal for the grant
of the said Abbey (which is stated to be of the yearly value of £20),
and for the foundation of a college, incorporated with the power to
accept such lands and contributions for its maintenance, as any of her
subjects should be charitably moved to bestow, to the value of £300
a year. On the 3rd of March following, being the thirty-fourth year of
her Majesty's r<>ign, letters patent passed in due form pursuant to the
said warrant, which are printed in all copies of the College statutes
now in circulation among the stiidents.'-f-L'nit-tfr*. Calendar,l8S4, p. 25.

* We call our Alma Mater, college or university indiscriminately, aa it U a college
incorporated "as the Mother of a Unirersity."

286 Triniiy College, Dublin. [April,

History informs us, that the mayors and citizens of this city,
both at the time of receiving the lands of this suppressed
monastery, and of granting them again for the foundation of this
University, were CathoUcs.* We beg of the reader to bear
this fact in memory. The learned author of the works before
us, has not once hinted, even in the long account which he has
given us of the establishment of the present College, that it was
founded for the purpose of promoting the doctrines of the Refor-
mation. And can we suppose that he, the author of the " inge-
nious device,"! would have omitted an opportunity of mentionmg
a circumstance so congenial to his own feelings, and so corrobo-
rative of the claims of his party to the monopoly of the good
things of the University ? The simple fact of his not stating
that the College was originally a rrotestant institution, and
founded for the promotion of Protestant interests, should be
considered as a sufficient proof of the falsity of the commonly
received notions to that effect. But we need not rely solely on
this sort of negative evidence, as we have the letters of Queen
Elizabeth herself, and her Lord Deputy, to show the design
which she had in view in erecting and supporting this Univer-
sity. As the letter of the Lord Deputy comes first in the order
of time, we shall commence by placing a few extracts from it
before our readers. This was a circular issued to the principal
gentry of each barony, entreating the aid of the inhabitants
towards supplying funds for forwarding the building, and for
other necessary charges. It is dated from " her Majestie's Castle
of Dublin, xi March 1591," and is as follows : —
« W. Fitz William,

" Whereas the Queen's most excellent M***, for the tender
care w*" her highness hath of the good and prosperous estate of
this her realme of Irelande, and knowing by the experience of the
flourishing estate of England how beneficiall yt ys to any countrey to
have places of learning in the same, hath by her gratious favour passed,
and ordered, and authorised us, her Dy Chancellor and the rest of her
Councell, to found and establish a colledge of a university near Dublin,
in the scite of All Hallows, w*" is freely granted by the citizens thereof,
with the precincts belonging to the same, to the value of xx£ by the
yeare, who are also willing, cache of them according to their ability,
to afford their charritable contributions for the furthering of so good a
purpose. These, therefore, are to request you (having for your assist-
ant such a person as the Sheriff of that county shall appoint for his
substitute), carefully to labour with such persons within his barony
(having made a book of all their names) whom you think can or will
afford any contribution, whether in money, some portion of lands, or

* Plowden's HitUmcai Review of the State of Ireland, vol. i. p. 102; and Huris's
History of Dublin, p. 323-3.
f Rev. James Henthorn Todd, A.M. M.R.I.A. •

1888.] Trinity College, Dublin. 287

anie other chattclls, whereby their benevolence may be shewed to the
putting fonvanl of so notable and excellent a purpose, as this will
prove to the benefit of tlic whole country, wherebi/ knowledge, learn-
ing, and cirililie, may be increased, to the banishment of bnrbaritm,
tumults, and disordered h/ring from among men, and whereby their chil-
dren, and children's children, especially those that be jwor (as it were in
an orphan's hospital frely), mate hare their learning and education giren
them with much more ease and lesser charges than in other universities
they can obtain it." — Uniiersity Calendar, 1833, p. 29.

The remainder of the letter has no reference to the reasons
for the foundation of the University. We shall now lav a brief
extract from Elizabeth's letter before our readers. It seems
that the College was dwindling away in its first years from want
of funds, and that the Irish government occtisionally granted it
some small supplies. In 1601 she took it imder her own consi-
deration, and, by pri\'y seal dated April 30th, not only confirmed
the former grants, but also made a farther grant of £200 a
year. The following is an extract from this document : —

" Being informed by letters from Ireland to our privy council here,
that the Colledgc is in danger to be dissolved, the maintenance thereof
being wholly taken away, and no benefit received of otir late grant of
concealments in regard to the trowbles, and that you have signified you
have had supplied them with some means for their continuance until
our pleasure b<^ signified in that behalf, we are well pleased, out of our
personal care for the maintenance of this CoUedge (being of our foun-
dation), and for the establishment of so great a means of instruction
for our people, to grant unto the provost, fellows, and scholars of tlio
said Colledgc botli the confirmation and continuance of those means
which you have formerly granted into them, and also the farther supply
of £200 sterling per annum." — University Calendar, p. 35.

The rest of the document concerns only the sources from which
this latter sum was to be received, and therefore it is uancces-
san' to transfer it to these pages.

We have not ransacked the college library for the purpose of
discovering these two documents, to serve our present purposes :
we merely tiike them, as we find them, in the volume before us.
And may we not say that, if the compiler of these volumes had
been able to discover any other epistles of that princess, more
favourable to the cause of which he is so wily an advocate, that
he would rather present us with them than with the present
document ? We ask can anything more clearly demonstrate the
utter fallacy of the assumption, that the university was founded
for the promotion of the doctrines of the Established Church,
than the two documents which we have just quoted ? Could
anything more clearly prove the truth of our position^ that the
college was founded for the purpose of diffusing the elements of

1

288 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

general literature among Irishmen of all creeds, without distinc-
tion, than these documents, in which we are told that it was
established as "a means of instruction for the people" "whereby
knowledge, learning, and civilitie, may be increased, to the banish-
ment of barbarism, tumults, and disordered lyving, from among
men ?" Let the reader bear in mind also, that the writer of
the volumes before us has never once attempted to show that it
was founded for the purposes to which it is now so unjustly
perverted.

But if Elizabeth, and those who with her aided in founding
and endowing the university, had any intention of favouring
sectarian principles, it is obvious that, however they may avoid
allusion to such principles in other documents, they would, at
least, in compiling the charters and statutes, have given full and
unequivocal expression to those sentiments. But this they have
not done, and, conseq^uently, we must conclude that they had no
such intentions. As it is most satisfactory, on a subject of this
nature, that we should cite our authorities, we shall go regularly
through the charters and statutes, * and adduce quotations from
them, or state their general purport, according as each mode
shall suit best with a brief and clear elucidation of the subject.

The charter of Elizabeth, for founding and endowing the
University, does not contain one word in favour of the ascendancy
of any sect or party. It states that archdeacon Ussher humbly
entreated her majesty, that, as there was not a college in Ireland
for instructing students in literature, and the arts, " m bonis
Uteris et artibus" she would be pleased to establish one near
Dublin, " for the better education, institution, and instruction of
the scholars and students in the said kingdom ;"t and that she,
through her great anxiety that the Irish youth should get " a
pious and liberal education, that they should be thereby better
enabled to learn the arts, and cultivate virtue and religion,
wishes, concedes, ordains,"^ &c. &c. Then follow the clauses for
founding and endowing the University. These passages, and
another,§ in which it is ordained that the Fellows, on the expiration
of seven years, after taking the degree of master of arts, should

• The copy of these, to which we shall refer by the letter P, with the numb»r for
each page, is the same as that which is given to every student on his matriculation,
and was presented to ourselves on that occasion, in 1832. It was printed at the
University press, in 1828, and is entitled, «'ChartaB et Stotuta Collegii Sacrosancte
et Individuse Trinitatis Reginae Elizabeihse juxta Dublin.''

+ P. 1.2.

X "Sciatis quod nos pro ea cur4, quam de juvcntute Regni nostri llibernia; pie et
liberaliter instituendi singularem habemus, ac pro benevolenti4, qu& studia, studio-
sosque prosequimur (uteo melius ad bunas artes percipiendas, colendamquc virtu tem
et religionem adjuventur) huic pise petitioni," &c. &c. p. 2.

§ P. 1 1.

I

1888.] Trinity College, Dublin. 289

resign their Fellowships, "/)ro hunts regni et ecclesia: bene^cio"
are the only ones in the entire of that charter containing an ex-
pression of a religious nature. What more general and indefinite
terms than piety, virtue, religion, and the church, could have
been used on such an occasion ? The entire, with the exception
of " the church," are phrases common to Christians, Jews,
Mahometans, and Pagans. There is not even a syllable specify-
ing what religion the fellows and scholars should profess, nor
what was the church which is so vaguely alluded to in the passage,
^* pro hujiis regni et ecclesia: bene/icio.^'' We shall immediately
show thtit the church thus hinted at, could not by possibility be
tl>e Protestant church, as by law now established in Ireland.
From all this it is manifest that the College was designed by
Elizabeth, not as a nursery for Protestant divines, but an institu-
tion for the extension of literature and science among all her
Irish subjects, without regard to religious distinctions.

The charter of James I, empowering the University to send
two members to the Irish Parliament, makes no allusion to the
creed of those members, or of the Fellows and Scholars that were
to elect them.*

In like manner, the charter of Charles I, which confirms, alters,
or repeals several clauses in that of Elizabeth, is completely free
from all expressions of a sectarian tendency, and does not contain
a single religious expression more definite than those which we
have already quoted from that charter.f

The preamble, also, to the statutes of Charles I, respecting the
College, does not state anything concerning the Christian religion,
or religious distinctions, but merely spealts of " the efficacy of
literature in polishing the human mina, and bringing men from
a wild and boorish mode of life to civilization and religion.":}: In
proof of which assertion it mentions the attention paid to the
study of polite literature (literarum politiorum disctplintej among
the ancient Hebrews, Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, and also
among modern nations, and " particularly in England, where so
many schools and eminent academies testify that the liberal arts
were an especial object of concern to her most renowned rulers,"
who, for the same considerations, " determined also to restore a
colony, as it were, of letters to Ireland, where they formerly
flourished." § From this it plainly appears that polite literature,

* ^- **•. t P- 25.

t " Pcrmagnam vim in doctrinarum studiis existere ad excolendos hominum
animot, et a fer4, afrrcstique yiii, ad humaniutis et rcli^ionis oflicia iraducendos, vel
iode facile cooitare potest quod non solum priscistemporibusapud Hcbrsos, ^gyptioa,
GrKcos, et Romanot, literarum politiorum discipliaa: viKuerunt," tec. p. 5A.

§ " De literarum quasi coloDi& aliqa& in Hibemiam (in qu& olim floruerunt) reda.
ccnda cogitanint" — p. 56.

290 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

such as was cultivated amonf; the pagans of antiquity, and not
the Reformed religion, was the object which Charles had in view
with regard to the University ; and that he wished it to be a scliool
for extending among all his Irish subjects a knowledge of the
arts and sciences, and not of the dogmas of Protestant theology.

On the whole it is perfectly clear that the University was
founded on the most liberal principles, and that it was by po
means intended for the purposes to which it has since been con-
verted, as " the last dark fortress of expiring bigotry." If those
who framed the charters and statutes had other intentions, it is
obvious that they would have expressed them fully and explicitly ;
and it is absurd to say that it was a mistake or unintentional
omission, since the charter of Elizabeth is as liberal as language
could make it ; and the charters of James I, and Charles I, suc-
cessively commented on, confirmed, repealed, or amended, several
clauses in it, and yet do not contain a single passage of a sectariar^
tendency. And how, we ask, can any person at the present day
attribute to those monarchs intentions with regard to this subject,
which they themselves never took the trouble to express? To
persons, disposed to maintain the claims of the '* miserable
monopolizing minority," by assumptions of this nature, we would
observe that, in addition to all the reasons deducible from common
sense and common honesty, against such aline of argument, there
is also that just and simple maxim of common law, " ea^pressum
facit silere taciturn" which forbids us to thwart the public enact-
ments of a legislator, by what we may pretend were his private
intentions.

But, whatever were the intentions of those sovereigns, we shall
show that the propagation of the Protestant religion, as by law
now established, could not have been, by any possibility, their
object in founding and supporting the University ; and that it
was Catholics and Dissenters, and not Church of England Pro-
testants, that mainly contributed to its foundation. With regard
to the share which the Catholics had in " the putting forward of
so notable and excellent" an undertaking, could we adduce a
stronger instance than the fact^ that the site for the College, and
the adjoining grounds, were granted by the mayor and corporatioii
of Dublin, who were all Catholics, and who testified their devo-
tion to that faith, by their suffering — with the exception of que
individual only — both fines and imprisonment, in the reign of
James I, rather than conform to the new doctrines?* Even
Galway, the most Catholic county in this country, was the only
county whose contributions to the College were deemed worthy pf

• Vid. Harris antea.

1888.] Trinity College, Dublin. 291

notice by the author of the present volumes. Thus, but for the
libiTulity of the Catholics of that city and country, the University
would not have been founded at all ; and can we suppose that
the Protestants of that day were so unprincipled, as that they
would exclude these j>eoj)le from all participation in the benefits
of it when it was erected? Had it been originally designwl to
exclude Catholics from the University, it would have been useless
to found it at all, and impossible to maintain it on such principles
against the will of the nation. It appears, that up to the time of
James I, not sixty of the Irish had embraced the Protestant re-
ligion, tliough Ireland then contained more than two millions of
souls.* During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the greater part
of the forces, employed by her in that country, were Irish Cath-
olics ;f and the majority of the Irish House of Commons were
also Catholics. For, though the passing of the Act of Uniformity
might appear inconsistent with this, yet it is really not so, as all
our annalists declare that that act was passed surreptitiously by
Stanyhurst, the Speaker, in the absence of those who were ex-

efcted to oppose it ; and who afterwards protested to the Lord
ieutenant against it, and were assured, oy him, that it would
never be put in execution.:}: In support of this is the fact, that
it was seldom, if ever, executed during the remainder of her reign,
a period of more than forty years. We may here observe, tliat
it was only in the reign of James I, that the Protestant ascendancy
was first established, or even sought to be established, in the Irish
House of Commons, by the creation of forty new boroughs, for
which, of course, govennnent candidates were returned. § Not-
withstanding this extraordinary stretch of prerogative, the Court
pjirty had only a maiority of twenty-four in a house of two hundred
and twenty-six. The full complement of members was two
hundred and tliirty-two, but six of those returned did not ap{)ear
in Parliament.

It must be obvious to our readers that it would not have
suited Elizabeth's politic views to found a College here, from
which her Catholic subjects were to be ignominiously excluded,
when it was on them principally she was relying for support
against her enemies. And it must be equally obvious that a
Catholic Corporation would not have given their grounds for the
erection of such a college, in the benefits of which, neither they
nor any of their faith were to have the least participation, and

* Mac Gcoghcgan's Hiitorjr of Ireland, p. 423.

+ Morr)*on, p. 120. Lcland, p. 112—306, ct alibi. Sullivan, p. 1 17, ct alibi.
I Plowdrn'ii Hist Ire. vol. i. p. 98. I.ond. 4to. et Analect Sacr. p. 431.
\ Plowd. Ibidem, p. 108-9. "It appears that during ber reign Uio peual laws
were ivIdoiD, if ever, executed in Ireland." — Plowd. antra, p. 98.

292 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

which could serve only to secure their own degi'adation, and the
advancement of their political and religious opponents. From
these considerations we must conclude that the exclusion of
Catholics could not have been an original feature in the govern-
ment of this University.

We shall now prove that the class of religionists, who at that
period formed the body of those who were called Irish Pro-
testants, and enjoyed all the advantages of the Irish Church
Establishment, were not believers in the doctrines then professed
by the Church of England, and now by the Church of England
and Ireland, but were Dissenters in the meaning attributed to
that word by the legally orthodox Protestants of the present
day. During Elizabeth's rei^n, the majority of those attached
to the Reformed Faith in Ireland were Puritans* At the
accession of James 1 they were ascendant in Church and State :
the whole body of the Reformed Clergy in Ireland were Puritan;
and Ussher, the most eminent of them, was Provost of Trinity
College, and afterwards Archbishop of Armagh. On this sub-
ject we shall quote the words of Carte in his Life of James,
Duke of Ormond.

" Thus, in the year 1615 a convocation being held in Dublin, it was
thought proper that they should have a jjublic confession of faith as
well as other churches. The drawing up of it was left to Dr. Ussher,
who having not as yet got over the tincture he received in his first
studies from tlie modern authority of foreign divines, inserted in it,
not only the Lambeth Articles,* but also several particular fancies of
his own, such as the Sabbatarian doctrine of a Judaical rest on' the
Lord's-day, the particular explication of what in Scripture is revealed
only in general concerning the generation of the Son, which Calvin
had taken upon him to determine was not from the essence but from
the person of the Father; the sacerdotal power of absolution made
declarative only ; abstinences from flesh upon certain days appointed
by authority declared not to be religious fasts, but to be grounded
merely upon politick, views and considerations, and the Pope made to
be Antichrist, according to the like determination of the French
Huguenots, in one of their Synods at Gappe in Dauphine, though the
characters and distinctions of Antichrist agree in all points to nobody
but the impostor Mahomet. These conceptions of his were incorpo-
rated into the Articles of the Church of Ireland, and by his credit
approved in Convocation, and afterwards confirmed by the Lord
Deputy Chichester." — Carte, voL i. p. 73. London, fol. edition.

• Plowd. antea, p. 101, note.

f Concerning predestination, grace, and justifying faith, sent down as a standard
of doctrine to Cambridge, but immediately suppressed by Elizabeth, and afterwards
disapproved and rejected by James I when proposed to him by Dr. Keynolds in the
conference at Hampton Court,

1888.] Trinity College, Dublin. S98

Such were the doctrinal principles of the Reformed clergy of
Ireland, and particularly ot the rrovost of the College, and the
Primate of Ireland, until the year 1634, when Charles I and
the Lord Deputy introduced another reformation. 'Diey were
anxious to establish a uniformity in doctrine and discipline
between the Churches of Ireland and England.

*' The main difficulty was to engage the Primate Ussher, upon whose
judgment mu3t of the bishops and clergy depended, and whose honour
might be touched by a repeal of the Articles, which he himself had
drawn, and who being horribly afraid of bowing at the name of Jesus,
and of some other reverences prescribed in the English Canons, which
he neither practised nor approved, might reasonably be supposed averse
to the reception of either the Articles, or the Canons of the Church
of England.. ..At last an expedient was found out to reconcile the
Primate. No censures were to be passed on any of the former Irish
Articles, but those of the Church of England were to be approved
and received ; which was only a virtual, not a formal abrogation of the
Irish ; and the English Canons were not to be established all of them
in a body, but those which His Grace scrupled at being left out, a
collection was to be made of the rest for the rule and discipline to be
observed in Ireland. The convocation met concurrent with the Second
Session of Parliament in the beginning of November 1634. Abun<lance
of the members were Puritanical in their hearts, and made several triHing
objections to the body of Canons extracted out of the English, which
were offered to their judgment and approbation : particularly sucii as
concerned the solemnity and uniformity of divine worship, the admi-
nistration of the sacraments, and the ornaments used therein, the quali-
fication for Holy Orders, for benefices and for pluralities, and the oatli
against simony, and the time of ordination, and the obligation to resi-
dency and subscription." — Carte, Ibid. p. 74.

He then says that the Articles of the Church of England
were at last received, and "established according to the deputy's
mind; yet more by the influence of his authority than the incli-
nations of a great part of the Convocation."*

We sliall now give an extract or two from a letterf of the
Loi-d Deputy (Wentworth) to the Archbishop of Canterbury
on this subject. After stating that the Lower House of Con-
vocation had appointed a Select Committee to consider the
question of receiving the Canons of the Church of England,
and that this Committee " had gone through the book of Canons,
and noted in the margin such as they allowed with an A, and on
others had entered a D, which stood for deliberandum ; that in
the fifth Article they had brought the Articles of the Church of
Ireland to be allowed and received under pain of excommunication,
and that they had drawn up their Canons," he says, " When I

* Carte, Ibid ; tee also Leland, rol. iii. p. 38. f Oiveu in full in Cute, ant«a, ibid.

I

284 Trimty College, Dublin. [April,

came to open the book, and run over their deliberandum^ in the
margin, I confess I was not so moved, since I came into Ireland.
I told him, (Dean Andrews, the chairman of the Committee)
certainly not a Dean of Limerick, but Ananias had sat in the
chair of their Committee : however sure I was Ananias had been
there in spirit, if not in body, with all the fraternities and con-
venticles of Amsterdam, and that I was ashamed and scandalized
at the above measure." Having summoned all the members of
the Committee before him, and having publicly lectured them
on " the spirit of Brownism and contradiction," he observed " in
their deliberandtims, as if indeed they proposed at once to take
away all government and order out of the Church, and to leave
every man to choose his own high place, ichich liketh him best ;**
he larther told them, "but this heady and arrogant course (they
might know) I was not to endure, nor, if they were disposed to
be mad and frantic in this dead and cold season of the year,
would I suffer them to be mad in their convocations or in their
pulpits." " First, then, I required Dean Andrews, as foreman,
that he should report nothing from the Committee to the House.
Secondly, I enjoined Dean Lesly, their prolocutor, that in case
any of the Committee should propound any question therein,
yet he siiould not put it, but break off the sitting for the time,
and acquaint me withal. Thirdly, that he shoula put no ques-
tion at all touching the receiving or not of the Articles of the
Church of England. Fourthly, that he should put the ques-
tion for allowing and receiving of the Articles of England,
wherein he was by name and writing to take their votes, barely
content or not content, without admitting any other discourse
at all ; for I would not endure that the Articles of the Church
of England should be disputed.*" By such violent and arbi-
trary proceedings were the Canons of the Church of England
forced on the consciences of the Irish Puritanical Clergy. Thus
we have shown that it was Catholics and Dissenters that prin-
cipally contributed to the establishment of the University, and
that the Church hinted at in the passage, pro hujtis regni
et ecclesiw heneficio, could not have been the Church by law
now established in Ireland; unless, perhaps, that with gentlemen
of the Reformed faith, points of doctrine are matters of minor
consideration, and therefore changeable at the whim of every
prince and prelate, while the possession of power and property
IS the fundamental Article, which is never to undergo the least
alteration, and is to be for ever the guiding beacon to those
seeking the haven of Irish Protestant orthodoxy.

* Carte, antea, p. 76.

1888.] Trinittj College, Dublin. Wtf

We have stated that tliere arc no jwissages of a sectarian ten-
dency in the charters of Elizabeth, James I, or Charles I. The
cause of this may be found, perhaps, partly in the spirit of
" leaving every nian to choose his own high place, which liketh
him best," for which the deputy so sharply reprehended the
clergy. The sketch of ecclesiastical history which we have
given, will explain why there are no clauses in the charters and
statutes, excluding Protestant Dissenters from any of the offices
or honours of the University, or holding out any sort of pre-
ference to those professing the peculiar doctrines of the Church
of England. What we have hitherto stated tends only to the
proof of the position that the University was intended by those
who fomided and endowed it, not for the especial protection and
encouragement of Protestantism, but for the liberal education of
the Irish youth of every Christian denomination. We shall now
show, from the respective oaths and qualifications of the Fellows
and Scholars, that it was the manifest intention of those who
framed and established these oaths and qualifications, that
Catholics should be eligible to Scholarships, and Dissenters to
both Scholarships and tellowships.

" Those only are to be elected Fellows, of whose religion^
learning and morals, the Provost and seven Senior Fellows
would have conceived good hopes, and who should have taken
the degree of Bachelor of Arts,''* and " should not be infamous,
convicted of heresy, or dissolute in morals and habits."f The
reader may observe that religion is an essential qualification of a
Fellow, but that there is not a word to express what that religion
should be, and that it is entirely left to the discretion of the
Provost and seven Senior Fellows. The compiler of the sta-
tutes seeing this, and fearing that perhaps those gentlemen may
*' entertain good hopes of the religion" of a Catholic, siipplied
this omission by inserting a clause in the chapter " on Divine
Worship," inhibiting the election of any one to a Fellowship,
" who should not have renounceti the Popish religion as fer as
it differs from the Catholic and orthodox, and the jurisdiction of
the Roman Pontiff, by a solemn and public oath.":}: The usual
" office" oath of the Fellows seems likewise to have been drawn
up particularly against Roman Catholics. It is as follows: —

* " Volumus et Sutuimtu, ut in Socios ii solum cooptentur, de quotum religione,
doctrinS et moribus, turn prcpositus, turn Socii septem Seniores, apem bonam auimU
coucep«riiit, quiquc gradum BaccalaureatQs iu Artibus Jam suscepcrint." — p. 71.

f " Provideaitt ct statuant, se ncminem in Socium elccturos, qui ait infamii
notatui, de hxresi convictus, aut moribus ct viue consuetudine disKolutus." — p. 72.

X " Pneterea nemo in Sociorum numerum eligatur, qui Pontificia; rcligioni, qua-
teniii a Catholica etorthodoxa ditscntit,et Komani PontificiBJuriadictioui per solenne
et publicum jununentum non reuuntiaTerit'' — p. 88.

296 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

" I, G. C, elected into the number of the Fellows of this Col-
lege, sacredly profess in the presence of God, that I acknowledge
the authority of the sacred Scripture to be supreme in religion,
and that I truly and sincerely believe what is contained in the
holy word of God, and that I will to the best of my power con-
stantly resist all opinions, which either Papists or others maintain
against the truth of sacred Scripture. As to the Royal authority,
I acknowledge that of his present most Serene Majesty (George,
&c.) to be the greatest next to God's in the kingdoms of Eng-
land, Scotland, and Ireland ; and to be subject to the power of
no foreign prince or pontiff."* The rest of the oath has no
connexion with our present argument. Again, all the Fellows,
except the professors of jurisprudence and medicine, are ordered,
imder the penalty of perpetual amotion from the College, to
" assume the sacred order of Presbytership," within three years
after taking the degree of A.M. Now, under what pretence
can they exclude Dissenters and others, who would comply with
the above oaths and regulations, from the Professorships of Juris-
prudence and Medicine, or from Fellowships generally, before
the period for entering into holy orders arrives ? Or why
should they exclude Presbyterians at all, whom the very words
" Sacrum Presbyteratus Ordinem," were designed to embrace;
who founded the University, and, as we have already shown,
were at the time of the compilation of these statutes^ almost the
only persons of the Reformed religion then in Ireland ? It is
manifestly against the entire tenour of the charters and statutes,
to exclude them from any of the honours or privileges of the
University.

But whatever pretext the members of the Established Church
may employ to monopolize Fellowships, they can have none to
justify or excuse them in excluding Catholics and Dissenters

• " Ego, G. C, electus in numcrum sociorum hiijus Collegii, sancte coram Deo
profiteer, me sacrae Scripturae authoritatem in religione summani agnoscere, et qu»-
cunque in Sancto Dei Verbo continentur, vere et ex animo credere, et pro facultate
mea omnibus opinionibus quas vel Pontificii vel alii contra Sacrae Scripturae veri-
tatem tuentiir constanter repugnaturuni. Quod ad regiain authoritatem attinet,
Serenissimi nunc Regis Georgii Quarti eam secundum Deum summam in regnis
Angliac, Scotise et Hiberniae esse agnosco — et nullius extemi principis aut Pontificis
potestati obnoxiam." — p. 76.

f " Sacrum Presbyteratus Ordinem in se suscipiat." — p. 76.

X These statutes, which still regulate the University in all particulars, except
where they have been altered by subsequent Royal Letters, were passed by Charles I
in 1637, three years after the reception of the English Canons. Yet we cannot 8Uj>-
j)08e that the manner of forcing them on the Irish clergy could have converted them
all in three years, unless they were of a very malleable disposition. Moreover, a
rigid conformity with them was not exacted ; even Ussher, the most eminent opponent
of them, was that very year one of the Visitors of the College, and the Primate of
Ireland. Vid. Dubl.'Univ. Cal. 1833. Inlroduct.

)

1838.] Trinity CoVege, Dublin. 297

from Scholarships. In the election of Scholars, it is *' to the
poverty, talent, learning, and virtue, of the candidates, that
attention must be paid."* Now let the reader observe that the
requisite qualifications of a Fellow are religion, learning, and
morals, whereas those of a Scholar are poverty, talent, learning
and virtue : that while religion is the first object of consideration
in the selection of a Fellow, it is entirely excluded in the selec-
tion of a Scholar. A similar difference is observable in their
respective oaths. That of a Scholar is — " I, N. N., elected into
the number of the Scholars of this College, solemnly profess
before God that I acknowledge the Royal authority of His Most
Serene Majesty (George, &c.) to be the greatest next to God's
in the kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland ; and to be
subject to the power of no foreign prince or pontiff."f The
remainder of it concerns only the duties which they promise
to perform. To this oath, no Catholic can have the least
objection. It is drawn up consistently with the principle on
which the oath and qualifications for Fellowships seem to have
been framed — that of excluding Catholics from fellowships, and
admitting them to Scholarships and all other situations. Here
there are no declarations as to the authority of the Scripture, or
resistance to the doctrines of the Popes. All these, it is plain,
have been omitted in accordance with the principle just al-
luded to.

But the irrefragable proof, if any were wanting, of the position
above laid down, is to be found in the passage before recited from
the chapter on divine worship, ordaining that no person be
elected a fellow, who should not have renounced by a solemn
and public oath the religion and jurisdiction of the Pope.
The uievitable conclusion from this clause is, that the framer
of it intended that Catholics should be admissible to Scholar-
ships, and all other situations in the University inferior to
Fellowships.

This principle is still farther established by the 33 Geo. Ill,
c. 21, entitled " An Act for the relief of His Majesty's subjects
of the Popish religion," (which first relaxed the severities of the
penal code,) the ninth section of which runs thus, " Provided
always, and be it hereby enacted, that nothing herein contained

* " In qum electlone habcatur ratio iiiopitp, ingenii, doctrine, virtutis, et quo
magii quisque ex cligendorum nuiuero his exoedit, eo magis, ut squutn est, prsfc-
r»tur.*'— p. 67.

f " Egu, N. N., electna in numerum Discipulorum hujus Collegii sancte coram
Deo profitcor, mo Regiam Authoritatem Serenisaimi nunc Regis Georgii Secundum
Deum summam ease, in regnis Angliae, Scotiae, et Hibcrnic agnoscerc, et nullius
ezterni Principis, aut Pontificis, potestati obnoxiam." — p. 69. Neither this oalh, nor
anj other, is now ever tendered to the scholar*.

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. X

298 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

shall extend, or be construed to extend, to enable any person to
sit, or vote, in either House of Parliament, or to exercise, or
enjoy, the office of Lord Lieutenant, Lord Deputy [the names
of several offices follow here, which it is unnecessary to mention ],
Masters in Chancery, Provost, or Fellow of the College of the
Holy Undivided Trinity of Queen Elizaheth, near Dublin, Post-
master-general, Lieutenant-general of his Majesty's Ordnance,
&c. [here again follow several offices, which having no connexion
with the present subject, it is needless to insert], unless he shall
have taken, made, and subscribed the oaths and declarations, and
performed the several requisites, which by the laws heretofore
made, and now of force, are required to enable any person to
sit or vote, or to hold, exercise, or enjoy, the said offices respec-
tively." Is not this clause as express in favour of the position
for which we contend, as if it were couched in the affirmative,
enacting that Catholics should be eligible to Scholarships, and all
other situations in the University, except those of Provost and
Fellow ? It is impossible to draw any other inference from it :
if it do not mean this, it means nothing. On this point we think
that a doubt cannot be any longer entertained by any unpreju-
diced person.

But there is no necessity for proving this principle farther, as
the Fellows themselves declare that it is not by any law contained
in the charters and statutes that Catholics and Dissenters are
excluded from Scholarships, but merely through a bye-law of the
College Board, that no person shall be elected a Scholar, unless
he shall have previously taken the Sacrament of the Lord's
Supper, after the rites of the Established Church, in the College
Chapel, on some Sunday between the days of examination and
of election.* On this our readers may naturally ask, why then
have we taken such a circuitous mode of demonstrating an
acknowledged truth ? Our answer is simply this, to show that
the bye- law is opposed to the expressed will of the founders and
endowers of the University, and to the tenour and principle of
all the charters and statutes.

That the board has not the privilege of passing bye-laws such
as this, we shall now endeavour to demonstrate. Queen Elizabeth
gave the Provost and Fellows power to establish whatever rules
and laws they might consider necessary for the government of
the University .f This power Charles I took from them, and
vested in himself, his heirs, and successors for ever,:f and repealed

• The ejcaminations are held in the week preceding Whit-Sunday, and the Scholars
arc declared on the day after Trinity-Sunday,
t Page 10. X Pase 33.

1888.] Triniiif Collegey Dublin. 299

all the laws passed by them during their exercise of that authority,
except those concerning the augmentation of the number of
Fellows from 3 to 16, and of the scholars from 3 to 70, and the
distinguishing of the former into senior and junior, and the
connnitting of the management of t!ie University to the Provost
and seven Senior Fellows for the time being.* He thenf ordered
that the Provost, Fellows, and Scholars, and their successors, should
for ever obey the laws enacted by him, unless he, his heirs, or
successors, should think proper to alter them in any particular,
But as "many casualties may occur, all of which human pru-
dence cannot foresee," he empowered the Provost and major part
of the Senior Fellows to make new decrees and ordinances in such
omitted cases, where nothing certain is dejined in the statutesy
and which are to be obligatory, provided they be not repugnant
to the statutes, and be sanctioned by the consent of the visitors
of the College4 Again, he provides that, if any ambiguities should
arise on tlie construction of the statutes, " tney should, in order
to discover the truth, consider the literal and grammatical sense,
and also his intentions :"§ and that if a decision, in which all par-
ties would acquiesce, should not be pronounced within eight days
after the commencement of a dispute, by the Provost and Senior
Fellows, tliat two Fellows to be assigned for that purpose should
go together with the contending parties to the visitors of the
College, and submit the controversy to them, " beseeching them
to interpret and determine all ambiguities, according to the plain,
common, literal, and grammatical sense, and the meaning most
suited to the existing doubt." II With respect to these disputes,
he uses the following, almost prophetic, language, " We being
unwilling, that any one should derogate in any particular from
the woras, or intentions, of the said statutes through any custom^
long abiise, or any act whatsoever.'* The language of these
clauses is so very plain, that we will not make a single comment
on it.

• Pafte 34. t Page 35.

* " Quod Prepositus et major pars Sociorum Soninrura pro tempore cxistcntium
in cuibus omissis (ubi nihil certum iu sUtutis nustris ikTinitum fuerit), nova deereta
et ordioaUoncg eondcre valeant at possint, que, modo non rcpugncnl btatutis nog-
trie, et habeant cootensum visitatorum Collegii, qui inferiu!) oominantur, vim,
obligandi sub p<rais in iisdeni prsscriptis obtinerc volumus et concedimus.'* — p. 36.

^ " ft ad veritatem exquirendam, literalem et grammalicalem sensum, pariter ct
rocntem nostram respiciant."— p. 147.

II "Ut juxU planum, communem, literalem, et gramroaticalem sensum. ct ad
dubium pra?lensum aptiorem, omnes bujusmodl ambiguitatcs interpretari et deter-
minare veliot.'' — p. 148.

% " Nolentes quod per oonsoetudinein ullam aut diuturnuro aliquem abusum aut
actum quemcunqur, verbis aut intentioni dictorum statutorum in aliquo derogetur."
— Ibid.

x2

300 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

Now, if this bye-law were established prior to the date of the
charter of Charles I, it was abolished by that charter; and it
could not, by any legal means at least, be established since that
time ; as under that charter the Provost and Fellows can form
new laws and regulations " in omitted cases only, where nothing
certain is defined in the statutes." No one can be so stupid, or
so prejudiced, as seriously to assert that the election of Scholars
comes under this head of " omitted cases." For if ever any
" thing was certainly defined," it was this, where the days* and
hours of examination, the qualifications of the candidates, the
mode of election, and the oaths of the electorsf and elected^
are precisely and particularly determined. Nothing could be
more precisely, " more certainly defined" than this. We know
not by what perversion of reason any one can force himself to
believe that this was an "omitted case," in which the Board might
exercise its legislative functions. It certainly was an unpardon-
able offence in Elizabeth, James I, and Charles I, not to have
foreseen the existence in that country of a sect professing the
peculiar tenets of the present Church Lstablishment; and a still
more unpardonable omission not to have secured to it by antici-
pation all the good things of the University. But to those, who
may seriously pretend that this was an omitted case, we have
only to reply, that in interpreting charters and statutes such as
these, and other legislative records, we are bound by what is said,
not by what we may think ought to have been said.

But it must be superfluous to pursue this argument farther,
particularly when we can adduce the testimonj' of the Board in
support of the position which we have undertaken to establish.
If a doubt could exist before as to the coi-rectness of our views,
this testimony must completely remove it. The board, we may
here observe, consists of the Provost and seven senior Fellows.§
So limited did they consider their powers of either dispensing
with the old laws, or enacting new ones, that thev could not alter
even the days or hours of examinations, or close or open the
college gates a minute later or earlier than the time prescribed
in the statutes, or even diminish the double quantity of viands
served up on Trinity Sunday, and were obliged to petition Geo.
Ill, in 18 19, for a relaxation of the statutes in these and some other
particulars. The statute which granted them relief, was drawn up

• Page 67.

f Page 138. Ego. C. Deum testor in conscientia me& me statuta super nuper
lecta fideliter et integre observuturuin, ct ilium vel illos in socium vel socios aut
schnlares discipulos nominaturum et clecturum quern vel quos statuta uupcr lecta
significare et apertius describere mea conscientia judicabit,omDi illegitima ufTcclioae,
odio, amore et similibus scposilis.''

i Page 69. § Page 64. •

\

1888.] TrinHfj College, Dublin. 301

by themselves, and established as one of the statutes of the College
by Royal I^Mtcrs Patent, bearing date the 13lh of December,
1819. We shall give the evils complained of, and the remedies
applied to them, as we find them in that document : —

•♦ Whrrcas in different statutes days and hours are prescribed, as well
for examining into the progress of the students and for observing the
terms, as well as for closing and opening the College gates ; and very
many academical duties, and the times for |>erforming them, arc too
strictly limited, and it has been found that many and grievous incon-
veniences have therefrom arisen to the College, to which the Provost
and Senior Fellows have most humbly i>etitioncd that we would be gra-
ciously pleased to grant a renjedy. We therefore concede by these
present** a power for the future to the Provost and major part of the
Senior Fellows to alter, with the consent of the visitors, as circumstances
shall seem to recjuire, all the times fixed in the statutes for performing
any duties, or doing anything else, except only the hours of morning
prayers and prtelections, and the times for the examinations and elec-
tions of fellows and scholars."*

Even the amount of the commons on Trinity Sunday was not
left to their discretion ; but it was specially enacted that it should
not exceed the ordinary .lUowance. We ask, can any one sup-
pose that this Board, which could not disjwnse with the statutes m
these trifles, could dispense with them in the most important
matters connected with the University ; or that they, who could
not even alter the times for the examination and election of
Fellows and Scholars, could alter the qualifications for them, by
requiring tests, not only not warranted by the statutes, but
totally repugnant to them? To say more on this point "would
be wasteful and extravagant excess." We presume that we have
thus satisfactorily demonstrated, that the Board has not the
privilege of passing bye-laws in general, and particularly such a
one as that which forms the subject of the present remarks.

But even supj>osing that the Board has a general power of
making bye-laws for the government of the University, which
we have shown it has not, we will now prove that its exercise of
it in the present instance, in requiring a qualification not war-

* '* Cum in diversis cUitulorum capitiliu<i Dies et Hora> turn examinationi scbola-
rtum in Hiwiplinis proj;re>sAs tcnniniiquc oliserrandit, tuin porlis Collcgii obserandis
ct apcrit>ndi» priet>cribuntur, et plurima oflicia acsulcmica et tenipora certa limitan>
lur, cuutptrtuu) autcni tit multa et f^ravia exiiuie iiironiinuda collegio provcniiMV,
quibus remedium gratiu!>^ praestarc di^naremur liuniillinie a nobis petieniiit pi<e|>osi-
Ills et Socii Seniores: |K>te«talcin igilur conccdimus iu futurum ptr prsseiitea
prcpiisito una cum majore parte Soeioruni >euiuruiu, tempora omniu ad oQicia i|UaB-
libet pncstanda aut omnino ad aliquid agetidun) in «tatutis di-finita (rxci-ptis aolum-
modo hor& precuin et pra^lcctionum matutinaruin atque teoiporibut examioationum
ct clectionum socionim ct Scholarum discipulorum) cum couMsnsu ▼isitatorum mu-
taudi prout re« \^\* exigerc vidcbitur."<'p. 183-1.

302 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

ranted by the charters, is not only unjust, but illegal. The
doctrine of law on which we rely, is laid down in Espinasse's
Nisi Prius, p. 694, as the second general rule for deciding the
validity of a bye-law. The first general rule is this : " Where a
corporation is by charter, they cannot make bye-laws to restrain
the number of those by whom the election is to be made by
charter." The second rule, to which we particularly call atten-
tion, is thus laid down in that useful work : " On the same
principle, a bye-law cannot narrow the number of persons out
of whom an election is to be made : as, for example, by requiring
a qualification not required by the charter." And he gives, as
an instance and proof of it, the case of the King vei'siis Spencer,
3 Burrowes* Reports, 1827 : " As where the election of the
common council was in the mayor, jurats, and commonalty, a
bye-law limiting it to the mayor, jurats, and such of the common
freemen who should have served for one year the offices of church-
warden or overseer of the poor, was held to be bad, as not
warranted by the charter." We have already proved that the
taking of the sacrament after the ritual of the Established Church
is a qualification not required or warranted by the charters or
statutes : and the sceptic, who could doubt whether that Qualifi-
cation narrows the number of persons out of whom the election
is to be made, would entertain doubts of his own existence. As,
therefore, this bye-law narrows the number of persons out of
whom the election is to be made, by requiring a qualification
not warranted by the charter, it is bad and illegal.

This bye-law appears to us to be only a remnant of the Test
and Corporation Acts. The sacramental test was established by
these acts : and now, though it is by law abolished, the liberal
fraternity of " the Silent Sister" still continue it, as the only
means of maintaining an unjust monopoly. This is the real
origin of this desecration of the most solemn rite known to the
Christian world. Is it not monstrous injustice, that these gen-
tlemen should still continue to enforce these laws, long after they
have been repealed by the legislature ? Thus, they who pretend
such a scrupulous regard for the laws of their country, are in the
practice of habitually evading and violating them, to preserve their
ascendancy. So conscious are they of the indefensible nature
of their conduct in this particular, that they never make any
allusion to this sacramental test in any of their works ; they
do not even insert it in the body of laws delivered to every stu-
dent as the code of his collegiate rights and duties. Is it not
manifest, that, if they deemed it a valid bye-law, they would
insert it, as well as they have done all their other rules, or even

1888.] Trinity Cotiet/e, Dublin. 303

their decree against attending meetings witliont the College ?•
'riie student, wlm may labour for years to acquire these honours,
though he may hear from his com|)anions of the existence of
such a practice, has absolutely no official knowledge or notice
of it, until a few days before the election, when he gets a hint
from his tutor, that he must receive the sacrament in the College
chapel, if he wish to stand a chance of being elected. As an
additional proof of the great secrecy they observe with regard to
this, we may mention the fact of there not being the slightest
allusion made to it even in any of the volumes before us, which
have been published under the sanction and patronage of the
heads of the College, and edited by one of the junior Fellows,f
and which descenu to the most minute details of every the most
trifling particular connected with the University. Under the
head of " Examination for Scholarship," these volumes mention
the literary exercises which must be performed by the candidates,
and then state the other requisites :

" On or before the day of election, every candidate must send in to
each of the examiners his name, his father's name, the name of the
county in which lie was horn, and the schoolmaster by whom he was

educated. The form in which it is done is as follows : Ego, A B

(ilius, natus in comitatu, N. sub ferula educatus, dtscipulatum a

tepeto. The statutes direct tuat a preference be given,
ceteris paribus, to those who have been educated in Dublin

SCHOOLS, or born IN THOSE COUNTIES WHERE THE CoLLEGE HAS
property: with this exception, scholarships ARE OPEN TO
ALL THE SUBJECTS OF THE BRITISH CrOWN, WITHOUT DISTINC-
T10N."t

There are no hints here as to religious distinctions, or as to
taking the sacrament : this is a true and fair version of the statutes,
and proves, beyond contradiction, the truth of all for which we
have contendea. But the learne<l e<litor of this work knew quite
well, that, in practice at least, receiving the sacrament was an
indis{)ensable requisite also. Now, it must be either fear or
shame that prevented him from honestly stating this. He would
not, assuredly, suppress the most important requisite of all, if he
did not fear to draw public attention to the subject. From this
our readers may judge how apprehensive the heads of the ITni-
versity are of exposing the unwarrantable means which they
adopt to secure all the nonours and advantages of the College to
those of their own sect, that they may be thereby enabled to

• Page 227. f Rev. James Henthorn Todil, A.M. M.R.I.A.

* Sec Duhlim Vuitfrilif Citltndnr for any year since its first appearance — Chapter
on SciiOLABsuiP Examination.

304 Trinity College, Dublin. [April,

attach them the more strongly to their party, and to allure poor
unprincipled proselytes.

We shall now consider the several ways by which parties
aggrieved by this test may endeavour to procure the abolition of
it. There are three ways of doing it: by application to the
Queen's Bench, the Queen in Council, or to Parliament. The
method of applying to the first is by writ,* which should be sued
out by some candidate, whose answering would entitle him to a
Scholar's place, but who would not have complied with the cus-
tomary regulation of receiving the sacrament. This course was
adopted in 1836, by a gentleman (Mr. Timothy Callaghan)
whose highly praiseworthy exertions were baffled by a legal
quibble, he having proceeded by a Mnndarmis instead of a Qtto
VVarranio. His conduct cannot be too highly appreciated by
the Dissenters and Catholics of the empire. He expended years
of assiduous labour in acquiring that knowledge, which enabled
him to make this attempt to render the highest honours of the
University accessible to them : and when the tempting lure was
held forth to himself, he scorned the bait, that would be the
reward, at the same time, of his talent and his apostacy; and
looking only to the general good, he made the noble effort to
which we have alluded. ITiis is not the course which we would
now recommend as the most feasible. It is not every day we
meet gentlemen who have such talent and public spirit as Mr.
Callaghan. Since the year 1793, when the 33rd Geo. HI, c. 21,
to which we have before drawn attention, first exempted Ca-
tholics from the necessity of taking the Sacramental Test on
entering the College, or standing for Scholarship, he has been
the first to endeavour to force the Board to comply fully with
that enactment. If we are to expect no more from the future
than we have experienced from the past, it will be forty-four
years more before such another attempt will be made. But
there are other difficulties in the way of a proceeding of this
kind, which we feel bound to lay before the public. In suing
out the writ, the party must swear that his answering is such as
entitles him to a Scholarship : without this he cannot proceed a
step. But to this he cannot swear, unless he gets the list of his
own answering, and that of those who have been elected Scholars.
Here, again, the Board displays its dread of having the illegality
and injustice of its conduct in this particular brought before the

* Perhaps it would be prudent for the sake of formal regularity, to appeal to the
Visitors before applying to the Queen's Benoh. The Visitors are the Archbishop of
Dublin and the Chancellor of the University, (the present King of Hanover) or, in
his absence, the Vice-Chancellor. The present Vice-Chanccllor is the Most Rev.
John George Beresford, the Primate of Ireland.

1838.] Trinity College, Dublin. 905

public. In all other examinations the students get the returns
of tlieir answering as a matter of course, while in this one they
cannot get them except by special favour, and it is only a very
few that can get them at all. So that the Board can, and per-
haps will for the future, completely prevent this mode of trying
the legality of their proceedings, unless the present liberal
Provost, Dr. Sadleir, should interpose his authority to check
such an undue and partial exercise of their functions.

If an application were made direct to Her Majesty, she would
not, in all probability, interfere with the question.

Therefore, the best and surest method is, that some member
of either House should move an address to Her Majesty, praying
that she would be graciously pleased to issue her royal letters
(mtent, ordering the Board of Trinity College, Dublin, not to
jHit any tests to the candidates for Fellowship, or Scholarship,
but such as are required or warranted by the Statutes and Char-
ters of the University, or the law of the land. A motion so
framed would effect all our purposes, and would not yield a fair
pretext for resisting it to the partisans of monopoly. To such a
motion we cannot anticipate a valid objection.

But it might be said, that even though the legislature should
adopt such an address, and declare the exaction of the sacra-
mental test to be opposed to the laws of the land and tlie statutes
of the University, yet as the election would still rest solely with
the Board, they might and would advance to Scholarships and
Fellowships those only whom they should know to be members
of the Established Church. We grant the election should still
rest with the Board, and that it would be in their |)ower to act
in this manner. But those individuals must entertain a very
contemptible opinion of the morality of the members of that
body, who would supjwse them capable of entering into so base
a conspiracy to evade and violate the law. Those members
would be reckless of feeling, who would violate their electoral
oaths,* and sacrifice their honour, for the purpose of pandering
to the passions and interests of any section ot the community.
We are confident, from the known liberality and independence
of Drs Sadleir and Hare, that they never would be parties to
so flagitious a confederacy. Were there a majority on the Board
of such men as these, we should be quite willing to trust the
working of the measure to them. But even as it is now consti-
tuted, we entertain some hopes that Catholic and Dissenting
candidates would not suffer any fragrant injustice. We do not
despair of the Board : a new era is breaking in on it. Calcu-

* Vid. antea, p. 265, note.

506 Trinity College^ Dublin. [April,

lating by what has taken place within the last few years, we
should not be surprised to see on it, in a few years hence, a
decided preponderance of liberals. We will not, however,
attempt to dive into futurity ; but whatever alterations shall
occur, we trust that the present Provost will oppose no impedi-
ments to the infusion of some liberality into the institution over
which he has been called to preside.

The sacramental test was well described by an able Presby-
terian writer, as " only an engine to advance a state faction, and
to debase religion to serve mean and unworthy purposes." It
is notorious in Ireland, that it makes ten infidels for one Pro-
testant, of those whom it decoys from the bosom of Catholicism.
It serves more to spread a systematic disregard of the most
sacred rite of the Christian religion, than the writings of all the
Deists and Atheists that have ever breathed. It holds out a
premium to the young Catholic, ambitious of honour, and strug-
gling to rise in the world, to laugh at the doctrines of his Church,
and to look upon freedom from moral restraint, as the triumph
of philosophy over prejudice and ignorance. It is a test more
of infidelity than of Protestantism, as it proves only that the com-
municant has lost all scruples as a Catholic, not that he has
acquired any steady principles as a Protestant. For, be it known
to our readers, that there is no confession of faith, or declaration
of belief, in any article or articles whatsoever required of the
neophyte. He is not taught to believe the doctrines of the
Church of England, but to disbelieve those of Rome. The en-
tire object is gained, if he be made a renegade from the creed of his
fathers — and experience shows, that we may apply to the merce-
nary proselyte, what has been said of the political renegade — "a
renegade seldom carries aught but his treason to whatever party
he advocates." The melancholy truth of this is felt in Ireland :
the young proselyte, who begins by sneering at " Popery" and
" Puritanism," almost invariably ends by sneering at Chris-
tianity.

Thus the Church of England does not finally gain by these con-
versions; for though she thereby reduces the ranks of Dissent and
Catholicism, yet she does not increase her own strength and
security. If the members of that Church be so bigoted as to
desire to see Atheism predominant in Trinity College, in pre-
ference to the principles of Dissent and Catnolicism, the best
mode of effecting their object is, by persevering in the present
system.

This is not a question peculiar to any sect or party, or to any
portion of the empire. All Her Majesty's subjects, who are not
membei's of the Established Church, are equally injured, equally

183«.] Trinity College, Dublin. 807

defrauded by the present system. Nothing can be more unjust
than that the College Board should appropriate to one sect pri-
vileges and emoluments, which were intended by the founders and
endowers of the University to be common to all — that they
should remove the stimulants to industry, and deprive merit of
its reward, if that industry and merit be unfortunately without
the pale of the Establishment : and that they should do this in
violation of several Acts of Parliament, of the common law of the
land, and of the very charters and statutes which gave them
existence as a Corporate Body.

We trust that when this question shall be brought forward
in either House of Parliament, the present Ministers, who have
laboured so strenuously to promote education among all classes
of their fellow-subjects, will not refuse their assistance. By sup-
porting such a motion as we hav^ proposed, they would be ena-
bled to crown with success all their past exertions in the cause
of national education — as they woula thereby give an incite-
ment to youths to distinguish themselves in tlie elementary
schools, by holding forth to the ambitious and the talented an
opportunity of contending for the highest literary prizes at the
University widiout renouncing the ever-cherished creed of their
fathers. Never has there been so auspicious a moment for
bringing this question forward as the present— in the first ses-
sion of the first Parliament of the first Virgin Queen who has
sat on tlie throne of these realms since the death of Elizabeth—
and, as the honour of founding the University as a school, by
which "knowledge, learning and civility," might be diffused
through all classes of her subjects without regard to reli-
gious distinctions, and in which the ** poor (as it were in an
orphan's hospital freely) maie have their learning and education
given them," belongs to Elizabeth, we hope tliat Victoria will
have the glory of restoring it to these truly noble and national
purposes.

»

Xkt.U.— Tracts for tJie Times. 3 Vols. London. 1833-6.

THE times, Heaven knows, are sufficiently bad. It is a work
of charity to try to mend them. The collection of Tracts,
some very short, others of considerable length, which forms the
three volumes before us, was published for this purpose. As a
well-intentioned attempt, it deserves our sympathy. It is a
proof of great zeal, of considerable intrepidity, and of some re-
search. The Tracts are the production of a well-known knot

808 Trachfor tJie Times. [April,

of divines at or from Oxford, the determined foes of dissent, tlie
inconsistent adversaries of Catholicity, and the bhnd admirere of
the AngHcan Church. In other words, they are written by
staunch assertors of High-Church principles.

Will they succeed in their work? We firmly believe they
will: nay, strange to say, we hope so. As to patching up, by
their prescriptions, the worn-out constitution of the poor old
English Church, it is beyond human power. " Curavimus
Babylonem et non est sanata," {Jer. li. 9) will be their discovery
in the end. It is no longer a matter of rafters and partition-
walls; the foundations have given wavj the main buttresses are
rent; and we are not sure but that one who has been, for three
centuries, almost deprived of sight, and kept toiling in bondage,
not at, but under the grinding wheel, has his hands upon the
great pillars that support it, and having roused himself in his
strength, may be about to give them a fearful shake. We speak
only of moral power, but it is of the immense moral power of
truth.

How, then, will they succeed ? Not by their attempts to heal,
but by their blows to wound. Their spear may be like that in
Grecian fable, which inflicted a gash, but let out an ulcer. They
strike boldly and deeply into the very body of dissent, and the
morbid humours of Protestantism will be drained out. Let this
be done, and Catholic vitality will circulate in their place. They
show no mercy to those who venture to break unity in their
Church, and like all unmerciful judges, they must expect no
mercy. Why did you separate from the Roman Church ? is a
question that every reader of these volumes will ask twenty times*
He will find, it is true, what is intended for an answer given him
as often : but he will be an easily-satisfied enquirer, if any of these
answers prove sufficient for him.

The scope of these Tracts seems to us two-fold. First, they
endeavour to revive in the Anglican Church a love of ancient
principles and practices, by showing on how many points it has
departed from them, and how wholesome it would be to return
to them. Secondly, they endeavour to place their Church upon
the foundation of apostolical succession, enforcing their claims to
authority upon the laity, and pressing the clergy to a maintenance
of it as a right. Antiquity and authority are their watchwords.
They consequently maintain that the English Church has suffered
great change during the last century, in having become too Pro-
testant. {Tr. 38.) The Fathers of the Reformation, as they are
called, are said by them to have kept close to primitive practices,
and consequently to have separated less (this they are obliged to
own) from the Romish— that is the Catholic Church — than their

1888.] Tracts for the Times. 809

successors. The Anglican Church, therefore, already stands in
need of another reformation, (7>. 38) which shall lead it back
to what those Fathers made it. There must have been a sting
in this confession. But still it is made boldly— with profession,
however, that such an approach to Catholicity, would only be so
inasmuch as we have better preserved primitive forms.

The two heads which we have just rehearsed, as embracing the
subject-matter of these books, often run into one another, and it
is not always easy to separate them. For authority, based upon
apostolical succession, is necessarily a part of antiouity, and an-
cient practices and doctrines are upheld by an appeal to authority.
Wishing, as we do, to treat of these two matters distinctly, we
shall endeavour to examine each upon its own peculiar merits;
and perhaps we shall better succeed in keeping them distinct, by
making each the subject of a separate paper. We shall, there-
fore, confine ourselves at present to the desire of bringing back
the Anglican Church to ancient practices.

The enquiry into this sentiment presents itself to our minds
under the form of a very simple question. What was gained by
the Reformation, considered as these authors would have it, that
is, as a purgation of such malpractices and errors as time had
introduced into primitive usages and belief, and a return to the
purity of the early ages? Two things should seem to have been
necessary to authorize the naming a religious change by such a
title. First, all that was really abuse should have been skilfully
removed, yet so as to leave all that was ancient and good. If a
surgeon, in cutting away a gangrene, cut off* a sound limb, he
would be said ratlier to destroy than to heal. Secondly, such
measures should be taken, as that similar or worse abuses should
not again return. If it had required a thousand years to deform
the Church so as to call for a first reformation, this would have
proved a sorry work, if, in a couple of hundred more, things had
become as bad again. Still worse it would be, if the very Refor-
mation itself had opened a door to similar or worse abuses.

It will be a curious and unexpected result of such mighty con-
vulsions in the religious and political world, as the Reformation
caused, that the great safeguards of revealed truth should have
been pulled down ; the stable foundation of divinely appointed
regiment in the Church plucked up; rites and ceremonies coeval
with Christianity abolished ; practices come down from the first
ages discontinued and discountenanced ; and ordinances, believed
of old to have been apostolical, abrogate<i and condemned. And
yet all this must bo called a " godly work of reformation," that
same " Reformation" signifying a rcpristination of primitive
Christianity ! But will it not be stranger to see the old religion,

310 TracUfor the Times. [April,

which needed such an operation, preserving all diese good things
intact, to the jealousy of the Reformed, in such wise that when
this one wished to return to purer or perfecter forms, it must
needs seek its models in the other ? Shall we upon examination
find things so ? Let us see.

1. Episcopal authority is justly considered by the Tract-writers
as the foundation of Church government. Of its present state in
their Church they write as follows, having quoted passages from
St. Clement of Rome, and St. Ignatius Martyr.

" With these and other strong passages in apostolical Fathers, how
can we permit ourselves in our present practical disregard of episcopal
authority ? Are not we apt to obey only so far as the law obliges us ?
Do we support the Bishop, and strive to move all along with him as
our bond of union and head ? Or is not our every-day conduct as if,
except with respect to certain periodical forms and customs, we were
each independent in Iiis own parish ?" — No. 3, p. 8.

" We who believe the Nicene Creed, must acknowledge it a high
privilege, that we belong to the Apostolic Church. How is it that so
many of us are, almost avowedly, so cold and indifferent in our thoughts
of this privilege ? . . . Scripture at first sight is express" (in favour of
the divine ministerial commission.) ..." The primitive Christians read
it accordinyly : and cherished with all affectionate reverence the privi-
lege which they thought they found there. Why are we so unVke them?"
— No. 4, p. 1.

" I readily allow, that this view of our calling has something in it too
high and mysterious to be fully understood by unlearned Christians.
But the learned, surely, are just as unequal to it It is part of that
ineffable mystery, called in our creed the communion of saints, &c. . . .
Why should we despair of obtaining, in time, an influence far more
legitimate, and less dangerously exciting," (than that obtained by the
upholders of the holy discipline) " but equally searching and extensive,
by the diligent inculcation of our true and Scriptural claim ? For it is
obvious that, among other results of the primitive doctrine of the apos-
tolical succession, thoroughly considered and followed up, it would
make the relation of pastor and parishioner far more engaging, as well
as more awful, than it is usually considered at present" — p. 76.

It is certain that all here desired, existed in the English Church
down to the time of the Reformation ; it is certain tliat it exists
in all countries that have remained Catholic ; it is certain that it
exists among those who have clung to the old faith in these
islands. What, then, was gained by the Reformation on this
score? Had you remained Catholic, you would have had no
" practical disregard of episcopal authority," nor would each cler-
gyman have acted "as if^ independent" of his bishop. Had you
remained Catholic, you would have found no difficulty in causing
this article of the Nicene Creed to be heartily believed and fol-
lowed up, nor found yourselves so " unlike the primitive Chris-

1888.] Tractn for the Ttmcs. 311

lians" in your feelings and conduct respecting it. You would
have had no need of treating as a matter not desperate, the pros-
pect of one day acquiring the influence over your flocks which
unepisco|)al teachers have acquiretl. A reformed, a|)ostolic Church
not to r/f.?/)«/r of acquiring an influenct? which it possessed before
It V,' as reformed ' If, in regard to episcopal authority ami its
practical influence, the Reformation did no good, did it do any
narm? Clearly so. For if this authority was practically lost
only after the Reformation, and only where the Reformation was
adopted, it must evidently be charged with having caused the
practical abandonment of one of the articles of the Nicene Creed,
and producetl a great dissimilarity between its followers and the
primitive Christians. We unreformed have continued to resemble
them. How obstinate of us not to embrace the Reformation !

2. The sad effects of this loss of practical authority in the
episcopacy are even more awful than the cause itself. This autho-
rity, it is often repeated through these volumes, is not so clearly
contained in Scripture as might, a priori, have been expectea.
Men are thus easily led to reject, or, at least, to despise it. This,
of course, they would not, if they laid a proper stress on tradition.
The consequence of this departure from traditional teaching, in
one respect, leads to a similar departure in more important ones :
for instance, regarding the doctrines of the blessed Trinity and
the Incarnation. Consider well what follows.

" What shall we say, when we consider that a case of doctrine, neces-
sary doctrine, doctrine the very highest and most sacred, may be pro-
duced, where the argument lies as little on the surface of Scripture —
where the proof, though most conclusive, is as indirect and circuitous
as that for episcopacy, viz. the doctrine of the Trinity ? Where is
this solemn and comiurtable mystery formally stated in the Scriptures
as we find it in the creeds? Why is it not? Let a man consider
whether all tlie objections which he urges against episcopacy may not
be turned against his own belief in the Trinity. It is a happy thing for
themselves that men are inconsistent : yet it is miserable to advocate
and establish a principle, which, not in their own case indeed, but in
the case of others who learn it of them, leads to Socinianism. This
being considered, can we any longer wonder at the awful fact, that the
descendants of Calvin, the first Presbyterian, are at the present day in
the number of those who have denied the Lord who bought them ?" —
No. 4-5, p. 5.

" For the present, referring to that ineffable mysterj* (the Incarna-
tion), from which, on this day especially, all our devout thoughts should
begin, and in which they stiould end, I would only ask one question ;
What will be the feelings of a Christian, particularly of a Christian
pastor, should he find hereafter, that, in slighting or discouraging apos-
tolical claims and views (be the temptation what it may), he has really
been helping the evil spirit to unsettle man's faith in THE Incarnation
OF THE Son of God?"— No. 5t, p. 12.

812 TracUfor the Times. [April,

These are, indeed, awful consequences of the unsettling of
men's minds caused by the Reformation. And they are clearly
traceable and imputable to that event. For be the doctrine of
Anglicanism what it may, respecting Scripture and tradition, it is
evident that in it, as in all Protestant communions, exclusively,
could exist this haggling about proofs, because not clear in the
written Word. This is manifest; that among Catholics it is not
usual for the faithful, still less for pastors, to question, or to
" slight, or to discourage, apostolical claims and views :" nor has
any one, so far as we know, contended that the dogmas of the
Trinity and Incarnation have been perilled amongst us, through
insufficient views of Church polity. These, therefore, are
peculiar blessings introduced by the godly Reformation. In the
English reformed Church a door has been opened to Socinianism,
which was close barred before it became reformed, and the un-
reformed Catholics still contrive to keep well shut. With such
confessions, is it strange that we should not be enamoured of
the Reformation ?

3. The constitutional weakness of the body episcopal could
not but be followed by the enervation of its right arm. It has
long ceased to wield the thunderbolt of ecclesiastical reproof and
public censure against incorrigible sinners or open apostates.

" Church Reform. — All parts of Christendom have much to con-
fess and reform. We have our sins as well as the rest. Oh that we
would take the lead in the renovation of the Church Catholic on
Scripture principles.

" Our greatest sin, perhaps, is the disuse of a * godly discipline.' "
Let the reader consider —

" 1 . The command. — ' Put away from yourselves the wicked person.'
« A man that is a heretic, after the first and second admonition, reject'
* Mark them which cause divisions and offences, and avoid them.'

" 2. The example, viz. in the primitive Church. — * The persons or
objects of ecclesiastical censure were all such delinquents as fell into
great and scandalous crimes after baptism, whether men or women,
priests or people, rich or poor, princes or subjects.' — Bingham, Antiq.
xvi. 3.

" 3. The warning.— ' Whosoever shall break one of these least com-
mandments, and shall teach men so, shall be called the least in the
kingdom of heaven.' '" — No. 8, p. 4.

Until the Reformation, this godly discipline was in use. Even
as yet, in Catholic countries and in our own, ecclesiastical cen-
sures are in force, and may be incurred by the violation of the
ecclesiastical law. Sometimes they are inflicted by special de-
cree, and are held in the greatest awe by priests and people. We
have seen, on the Continent, excommunication taken off before a
vast concourse of people, with all the solemn ceremonial of the

k

1 838.] Tracts for ihe Ttmes, 8 1 8

ancient Church. The king-qiieller Napoleon felt tiie power of
the Pontiffs arm, and staggered beneath the blow of his excom-
munication. Not long ago the present Pope pronounced it in
general terms against all the participators in an outrage upon his
authority; and numbers, conscience-struck, secretly entreated for
absolution. The " go<lly discipline" was lost at and by the
godly Reformation : the Church of England went back from
" the example of the primitive Church," when it pretended to
return to primitive Christianity : it soon forgot the divine
" command" in its eagerness to combat the supposed human
commands which it imputed to the Catholic Church. And the
latter, which pertinaciously opposed this strange return to primitive
C-hristianity, somehow or other has contrived to keep to this ex-
ample of the early Church.

4. Another great departure from primitive Christianity, causet!
by the Reformation, was, according to the Tract-writers, the
curtailment of the Church services : — " The services of our
Church," they write, " as they now stand, are but a very small
portion of the ancient Christian worship: and, though people
now-a-days think them too long, there can be no doubt that the
primitive believers would have thought them too short." (No. 9.)
The writer then explains himself farther, by observing that the
early Christians taking literally the scriptural intimation of
praising God seven times a day, instituted the canonical hours.
" Throughout the Churches which use<l the Latin tongue," he
adds, " the same services were used with very little variation :
and in Roman Catholic countries they continue in use, with only
a few modern interpolations, even to this day." (p. 2.) Here,
then, is a plain confession. The first Christians, n\ conformity
to scriptural suggestion, instituted a certain form of prayer,
divided into seven portions, and of considerable length. This was
in actual use at the time of the Reformation, with very little
variation. Well, the restorers of ancient practices, the purgers
of all modern abuses, sweep away the whole system : the un-
vieldujg Catholics keep hold of it, and possess it till this day.
Which was right? — or what good did the Reformation do here?

'I'o wards tlie end of the paper we have quoted, there are
several statements respecting these offices which need emenda-
tion. It is pretended that already before the Reformation the
offices of the Church had been compressed into two groups,
called matins and vespers, and the spirit which had ordered them
in their primitive form had been lost. That consequently,
" conscious of the incongruities of primitive forms and modern
feelings, the reformers undertook to construct a service more in
accorclance with the spirit of their age. They adopted tlie

VOL. IV. — NO. V'll. Y

314 Tracta for the Times. [April,

English language ; tliey curtailed the already compressed ritual
of the early Christians, &c."

As to the first part of these reflections, we observe, . that it is
by no means common in religious communities to group the
oflices together as stated. Matins are generally sung alone, by
many orders at midnight, by some over-night, by others early m
the morning. Prime is sung at daybreak, and the shorter
canonical hours later, with mass interposed, often a solemn mass
between every two. Vespers and complin are also performed
separately. In collegiate churches, where the canons reside at
some distance from the church, the offices are more brought
together. It may be said that the writer of the Tract spoke
only of the state of things at the Reformation. If so, we have
not the means at hand to verify his assertion. But we will take
it as well grounded : what follows ? Why that the Catholic
Church contrived to correct abuses then existing without abolish-
ing the ordinances they affected. That she at least knew the
difference between destruction and reformation. Why could
not Protestants do the same? In their zeal to return to primi-
tive practices, why did they abolish them ? Surely the Catholic
Church proved that it was not necessary to humour modern
feelings by such sacrifices. Which, then, is the true lover,
follower, or restorer of early Christian observances ?

On the latter part of our extract we frankly own, that when
first we perused it, we were quite mistaken. We fancied that
the writer meant to cast some censure on the adoption of the
English language, in preference to that uniform speech " which
had reversed the curse of Babel." By Dr. Pusey's vindication
of the Tracts, we learn that such was not the author's meaning,
but that the passage in question was favourable to the change of
language, (vol. iii. p. 17.) We think any dispassionate reader
would not have so understood it. However, it is plain that if
the reformers found it necessary to abridge the services of the
Church, in compliance with the spirit of the age, it could not
have been the spirit of a papistical age, as Dr. Pusey there
explains it. For our Church, which he thus designates, has
found no need of curtailing, or of farther compression, but rather
found means to correct abuses.

But this matter of ancient Church oflfices lost at the Reforma-
tion, is treated more at length in the 75th and following Tracts.
In these, the entire office for Sunday, for the dead, and for
several festivals, is given by way of specimens. But the intro-
ductory sentences to the explanation there premised of these
offices, are unmatched in controversial assurance. They are as
follows : —

1888.] Tracts for the Times, 315

" There U so much of excellence and beauty in the services of the
Breviary, Uiat, were it skilfully set before the Protestant by Uomanistic
controversialists as the book of devotions received in their communion,
it Mould undoubtedly raise a prejudice in their favour, if he were
ignorant of the circumstances of the case, and but ordinarily candid
and unprejudiced. To meet this danger is one princi])al object of
these pages; in which whatever is good and true in those devotions
will be claimed, and on reasonable grounds, for the Church Catholic in
opposition to the Roman Church, whose real claim above other
Churches is that of having adopted into the service certain additions
and novelties, ascertainable to be such in history, as well as being
corruptions doctrinally. In a word, it will be attempted to wrest a
weapon out of our adversaries' hands ; who have in this, as in many
instances, appropriated to themselves a treasure which was our's as
much as theirs ; and then, in our attempt to recover it, accuse us of
borrowing what we have but lost through inadvertence."

The only real claim of our Church above other Churciies
(e. g. th.e Anglican) consists in having made some addition tu the
breviary I llie having known how to appreciate it, and having
kept it, go for nothing. Suppose a case in point.

Two brothers are in joint possession of a noble estate, do
scended to them from their remote ancestors. The younger,
prodigal-like, considers it not worth having, abandons it with
contempt, and by public deed, takes instead of it a new paltry
patch of uncultivated ground. After 300 years, his descendant
comes out, and says to the other's heir, " Sir, I will thank you
to understand, that your fine ancestral mansion and broad do-
mains are mine quite as much as yours. It is exceedingly im-
pertinent of you to call your own what once belonged to my
family as well as to yours. I claim it ' on reasonable grounds,'
for my ancestors lost it ' through inadvertence.' Nothing is yours
except certain additional buildings, which it was a great presump-
tion in you to erect." " This is indeed a strange claim," the
other might reply ; " I was by no means prepared for it. But
surely, sir, you will allow that three centuries of undisputed and
exclusive possession, and no small labour and expense in culti-
vating and preserving it, give some little superiority of right to
the property, over that of former coproprietorship, ' inadvertently'
(that means, I suppose, %'ery foolishly) cast away, by one who
publicly chose a substitute for it ?" " None upon earth, my dear
sir," the claimant rejoins, ^' none upon earth, as you must
clearly see. It is true that if yoM had not kept it uninterruptedly
in your family so long, and if your fathers had not bestowed
great pains upon it, 1 should not have now known where to put
my hands upon it. Hut that only makes it a matter of greater
convenience for me ; it can give no right to you. Now tliat I

y2

316 TracUfor the Times. [April,

choose to have tVie property again, I shall be extremely obliged to
you, if you will no longer call it yours. As for your additional
buildings, I shall take them down at the earliest opportunity."

Such is the reasoning which these grave divines pursue to
wrest from us the breviary of which they are jealous. Every
single reformed Q.o\xx\\xy, through " inadvertence," lost this collec-
tion of offices. We have never heard of an Anglican, German,
Swedish, Danish or Dutch breviary. Had all Europe followed
the example of reformation, it is clear that the breviary would
liave been now known only from manuscripts, or a few black-
letter editions. Virtually it would have been lost in the Church.
Yet it is a service which " seems to have continued more or less,
in the same constituent parts, though not in order or system,
from apostolic times." (p. 3.) Now, the dear old obstinate
Roman Church, could not be brought into the strange inadver-
tency of reforming itself, by casting away this apostolic institu-
tion. She tried another plan. The Council of Trent passed
measures for its correction. St. Pius V carried them into effect,
and subsequent pontiffs completed the work. Every ecclesiastic
in the Catholic Church is bound to the daily recital of the bre-
viary. In fact, the writer in the Tracts cannot give it any intel-
ligible name but that of the " Roman breviary." And yet it is
no more ours than theirs who no longer possess it !

However, we are not disposed to quarrel seriously about our
rights on this head. Let it first be restored, and practically en-
forced, in their Anglican Church. Let us first learn that in all
the collegiate churcnes it is daily sung with the punctuality that
it is in those of France or Italy. Let ns see published a " Bre-
viarium Anglicanum ad usum Ecclesiae Cantuariensis," as we
have one for St. Peter's Church at Rome, or Notre-Dame in
Paris. Let us be informed that each portly dignitary has fur-
nished himself with a Plantinian quarto, and that every curate
pockets, on leaving home, a Norwicn duodecimo. Put yourselves
upon a footing of equality with us in point of possession, and it
will be quite time enough to discuss the question of right to the
property.

5. Intimately connected with this matter, which, perhaps, we
have too lengthily examined, is another, — the loss of daily ser-
vice.

" Since the Reformation, the same gradual change in the prevailing
notions of prayer, has worked its way silently but generally. The ser-
vices, as they were left by the Reformers, were, as they had been from
the first ages, daily services : they are now weekly services. Are they
not in a fair way to beoome monthly P" — No. 9, p. 3.

If, at the sixteenth century, tliere was a tendency to shorten

1

1888.] Tracts for the Timex. 317

and diminish tlie services, this tendency was completely stop|)ed
in all Catholic countries, and only went on " working its way"
in Protestant. Which gained on this score, those who reformed,
or those who refused to do so ? Again, the services of the
Catholic Church yet remain what they then were, daily services.
Every cathedral, collegiate, and generally every conventual,
church, all over Catholic Christendom, has daily j)erforn>ed in it
the divine office, with a numerous attendance of the members
who form the chapter or community. Besides this, every church
and chapel is oj)en daily to the devotion of the faithful, and the
divine Lucharistic sacrifice is daily offered in each. We, there-
fore, are in no danger of seeing our offices become monthly, or
even weekly. The 25th Tract coTitains an extract from a ser-
mon of Bishop Beveridge, in which this neglect of daily prayer
is condemned as a breach of duty. After quoting the rubrics
concerning this matter, the bishop thus urges it on the clergy.
" But notwithstanding this great care that our Church hath
taken to have daily Prayers in every parish, we see, by sad ex-
j>erience, they are shamefully neglected, all the kingdom over ;
there being very few places where they have any Public Prayers
uj)on the week-days, except, perhaps, upon Wednesdays and
Fridays; because it is expressly commanded that both Morning
and Evening Prayers be read every day in the week, as the
Litany upon those. And why this conmiandment should be
neglected more than the other, for my part I can see no reason.
But I see plain enough that it is a great fault, a plain breach of the
known laws of Christ's Holy Catholic Church, and particularly
of that part of it which, by his blessing, settled among us." We
leave it to the sensible reader to conclude whether the Reforma-
tion did good or harm in this part of Christian duty. We will
trust him also with the decision, as to which Church has stuck
closest to the primitive practice.

6. Besides the performance of daily service, the daily celebra-
tion of the Lord's Supper was appointed at the Reformation, with
the practice of daily, and still more, weekly communion. It is
allowetl, that when the Reformation was introduced, these prac-
tices were followed in England. For, another extrsict from the
same bishop, published in the 26th Tract, acknowle<lges this.
" Where we may observe, first, that in those days there was daily
communion in cathedral churches, and other places, as there used
to be in the primitive Church." (p. 9.) Proof is then given of
this practice in St, Paul's. " From whence it is plain, that the
connuunion was then celebrated in that church every day. And
so it was even in parish churches." Of which likewise proof is
given. The loss of this priniitive practice, is called in capital let-

318 Tracts for the Times. [April,

ters, " A SIN of the Church," (Tr. 6, p. 4,) that is of the Angli-
can. For it is the practice solemnly to celebrate the Eucharistic
rite, or, as we express it, to say Mass, every day, in every Catho-
lic Church over the world, as it was in England when the
Reformation took place. And as this custom is acknowledged
to have been primitive and apostolic, we presume it will be granted
that, in this respect, as in the preceding, the unreformed have
been more successful than the reformed.

7. Let us proceed with rites or practices belonging to this
Blessed Sacrament. And first, take a less important one.

" A poor woman mentioned, with much respect, her father's prac-
tice never to taste food before receiving the Lord's Supper, adhering
unconsciously to the practice of the Church in its better days, and, in-
deed, of our own in Bishop Taylor's time." — Tr. 66, p. 11.

These better days were the earliest ages. The abuses intro-
duced into the Church of Corinth are groundedly supposed to
have led to the practice here mentioned. TertuUian describes
the Eucharist as that which was received " ante omnem cibum,"
before every other food. Thus has another primitive observance,
held in England till the Reformation, and even continued for
some time after, through the impulse of preceding better princi-
ples, been completely lost. So much for the efficacy of the Re-
formation in retaining primitive practices. What shall we say
of its ability to return to them ? We need not add, that this
practice is rigidly followed in the Catholic Church, just as it was
" in better days."

8. When the spirit of reformation invaded England, the
country was in possession of a liturgy, precisely that which we
Catholics now use. On this, let us have the opinion of the Tract-
writers. " All liturgies now existing, except those in use in
Protestant countries, profess to be derived from very remote an-
tiquity." (No. 63, p. 1.) After this preliminary sentence, the
writer proceeds to show, from a comparison of the different litur-
gies, the justice of their claim. He thus speaks of ours. " An-
other liturgy, which can be traced back with tolerable certainty
to very remote time, is the Roman Missal." Manuscripts are
then referred to, which prove the Mass to have been essentially the
same when revised by Pope St. Gregory the Great in 590, and a
century earlier by Gelasius, and even under Pope St. Leo the Great.
" It also deserves to be noticed, that, at the time when the Ro-
man Liturgy was undergoing these successive revisals, a tradition
all along prevailed attributing to one part of it an apostolic origin,
and that this part does not appear to have undergone any change
whatever. Virgilius, who was Pope between the times of Gela-
sius and Gregory, tells us, that the * canonical prayers,' or what

1838.] Tracts for the Times. 819

is now called the ' Canon of the Mass,' had been handed down
as an apostolical tradition. And much earlier we hear the same
from Pope Innocent, who adds, that the apostle from whom they
derived it was St. Peter." (p. 5.)

On this precious deposit of apostolical tradition, received froui
St. Gregory by the Enpflish Church, on its conversion, the An-
glican reformers laid their sacrilegious hands. These worthy
champions of primitive usages, these pious vindicators of the early
ages, these zealous restorers of apostolic piety, recklessly (shall
we say " through inadvertence ?") rejected and abolished this
venerable monument of antiquity, and substituted a patch-work
liturgy, or " communion service," in which hardly a rite or a
prayer is observed that existed in the old. In pages 8 and 9 of
the cited Tract, are tables to prove this. The four principal
ancient liturgies are compared together, viz, St. Peter's or the
Roman, St. James's or the Oriental, St. Mark's or the Egyptian,
and St. John's or the Ephesian and Mozarabic. The result is,
that in eleven points connected with the consecration and com-
nmnion, they all wonderfully agree. This number might have
been probably increased ; but we are content to take the state-
ment of the Tract. The communion service discards Jive of
these points, alters and mutilates some of the remainder, and
arranges the little it has preserved in a different order from any.
The statement of this modification is coolly introduced by these
words : *' The English Reformers prefer an order different from
any of these." (p. 8.) We will not enter into any discussion
about their right to do so. Oh, no ! It would have been quite
a pity, if, by any chance, they had preserved in a modern religion
practices of such venerable antiquity. But, at any rate, do not
call such men Reformers. If you will, do not tell us that the
purpose of the Reformation was only to clear away modern
abuses, and to retain and restore all that was primitive and apos-
tolical ! You yourselves say, " it may perhaps be said without
exaggeration, that next to the Holy Scriptures, they (the ancient
liturgies) possess the greatest claim to our veneration and study."
(p. 16.) Vet they whom you call your Fathers, made no scruple
of abolishing or completely disfiguring them !

On the other side, we need hardly remind our readers, that
the Catholic Liturgy or Mass, as now used, and translated in
pocket missals, is nearly word for word identical with that of
Gelasius, referred to in our Tract. This subject, however, de-
serves a fuller discussion than we can at present afford it.

9. Among the points excluded from the Liturgy at the Refor-
mation, one is thus specified : " And likewise another prayer
(which has been excluded from the English Ritual) ' for the rest

320 Tracts for the Timca. [April,

and peace of all those who have departed this life in God's faith
and fear,' concluding with a prayer for communion with them."
(p. 7.) On this subject Dr. Pusey enlarges in a letter, now
prefixed to the third volume of the Tracts. He allows that this
prayer was excluded from the Anglican Liturgy, by " yielding
to the judgment of foreign ultra-reformers." We need not observe
that Catholics have retained the practice and the words. Nor
shall we find it difficult, in a proper place, to disprove Dr. Pusey's
assertions respecting the object of these prayers in the ancient
Church, and to show that it was the same as Catholics now pro-
pose to themselves.

10. When the most solemn of all Christian rites was thus
rudely and irreverently treated, it must not surprise us to find
others, less important, handled in like manner. Dr. Pusey has
divided into three Tracts (67-69) a long treatise on " Scriptural
views of Holy Baptism." It deserves, in many respects, our
highest praise; and we freely give it. At pages 266 and follow-
ing, he presents, in parallel columns, those baptismal rites which
were very generally, if not univei'sally, observed in the ancient
Church, and which we have retained. The Anglicans, too, kept
them for a time. But naturally they could not understand their
worth, and sacrificed them to the good pleasure of Bucer. Dr.
Pusey thus laments the loss of those primitive observances. " We
have lost by all those omissions. Men are impressed by these
visible actions, far more than they are aware, or wish to acknow-
ledge. Two points especially were thereby visibly inculcated,
tvhich men seem now almost wholly to have lost si^ht of, — the
power of our enemy Satan, and the might of our Blessed Re-
deemer." (p. 242.) Thus we see what a practical influence on
faith these omissions may have. Again : " It has undoubtedly
been a device of Satan, to persuade men that this expulsion of
himself (by the exorcisms prefixed to our baptism) was unneces-
sary ; he has thereby secured a more undisputed possession.
Whether the rite can again be restored in our Church, without
greater evil, God only knoweth ; or whether it be not irrevocably
forfeited; but this is certain, that until it be restored, we shall
have much more occasion to warn our flocks of the devices and
power of him against whom they have to contend." (p. 243.)

Hence, in another Tract, these authors feelingly deplore the
loss, or better to speak, the rejection, of the Catholic Ritual.
After quoting passages from the Fathers upon the origin of many
ceremonies still retained by us, they conclude: "that, as a whole,
the Catholic Ritual was a precious possession, and if we, who
have escaped from Popery, have lost not only the possession, but
the sense of its value, it is a serious question whether we are not

1888.] Tracts for the Time/t. 321

like men who recover from some serious illness, with the loss or
injury of their sight or hearing;; whether we are not like the
Jews returned from captivity, who could never find the rod of
Aaron or the Ark of the Covenant, which, indeed, had ever l>een
hid from the world, but then was removed from the temple it-
self." (No. 34.)

These are grievous lamentations. Thank God, ice have no
reason to make them. The deposit of traditional practices which
we received from our forefathers we hax^e kept ni violate. We
have rejected no rite, we have hardly admitted one, in the admi-
nistration of the sacraments, since the days of Gelasius or Gre-

11. Another primitive practice avowedly neglected m the
English Church, is that of fasting, and other austerities. Dr.
Pusey has written several Tracts upon the subject. In one he
says : " I would fain hope that there will not long be this vari-
ance between our principles and our practice." (No. 18, p. 21.)
Again : " the other fasts of the Church require the less to be
dwelt upon, either because, as in Lent, her authority is in some
degree recognized, although it be very imperfectly and caprici-
ously obeyed," &c. (p. 23.) In this Tract, as in many others, a
captious spirit, in relation to Catholics, is observable. We lament
it. It is but little creditable to the writer. " To urge," he
writes, " that fasts were abused by the later Romish Church, is
but to assert that they are a means of grace committed to men,
&c. It was then among the instances of calm judgment in the
Reformers of our Prayer-book," (we have seen specimens of this
calm judgment,) " that, cutting off the abuses which before pre-
vailed, the vain distinctions of meats, the luxurious abstinences,
the lucrative dispensations, they still prescribed lasting."..." The
Reformers omitted that which might be a snare to men's con-
sciences; they left it to every man's Christian prudence and
ex|)erience how he would fast, but they prescribed the days upon
which he should fiist, both in order to obtain an unity of feeling
and devotion in the members of Christ's body, and to preclude
the temptation to the neglect of the duty altogether." (p. 7.)
Yet, on the whole, the duty, as a general one, h neglected. The
Common-prayer book prescribes as days of fasting or abstinence,
" All the Fridays in the year, except Christmas-day." Is this
observed in the Anglican Church? The forty days of Lent;
are they observed ? The Ember days ; are they observed ? Yet
among Catholics, in England as on the continent, all these days
are strictly observed ; all Fridays by abstinence, and all the rest
by fasts. The appointment of days, then, was not sufficient.
'Ihe Reformers, with all their calm judgment, went wrong in not

322 Tracts for the Time^. [April,

prescribing how men are to fast. But, in reality, they rooted up
in the Church all the principles by which alone fasting could be
practically preserved in it. There is something, therefore, to say
the least, ungenerous and unhandsome in praising the Reformers
at the expense of the Catholics, for " cutting off abuses which
before prevailed," when this amputation was so clumsily performed
as to lead to the total destruction of the thing itself. And this
unhandsomeness is doubled by the consideration, that if these
abuses existed till then, Catholics were able to correct them
without any such violent effects. For if dispensations were then
lucrative, they certainly are not so now, either in this country or
abroad. There is a heavy penalty in Italy, renewed every year,
not only upon every ecclesiastical authority receiving a fee for
giving a dispensation from abstinence during Lent, but upon any
medical man demanding it for a certificate of weak health, in-
tended for obtaining such dispensation. The difference, then,
between our Church and the Anglican has been this: that sup-
posing dispensations till the sixteenth century to have been lucra-
tive, we wisely removed the lucre, but kept the necessity of dis-
pensation by ecclesiastical autliority, and thereby preserved the
practice itself. The Anglicans, retaining the ecclesiastical pre-
cept of fasting on stated days, with what Dr. Pusey considei*s
" calm judgment," vested in each individual the dispensing power,
lest it should be lucrative to pastors, and of course, lost all eccle-
siastical power of enforcing an ecclesiastical precept. When each
man is constituted his own judge, when selfishness is made the
supreme umpire between the appetites and an irksome, painful
duty, it is easy to foresee the decision. We are sure that a Pro-
testant clergyman would be astonished, if one of his parishioners
called upon him at the commencement of Lent, or in an Ember
week, to ask his permission, as a pastor and organ of his Church,
not to fast. He would probably be more astonished to find that
he had a parishioner who thought about fasting at all. Indeed,
we have little doubt that Dr. Pusey and his friends would be
very glad to place the duty of fasting once more under the safe-
guard of the Church's jurisdiction ; by bringing men to the prac-
tical conviction that, whatever the Church has enjoined, no faitli-
ful son ought to neglect, without a reason which she hereelf has
approved. Did every one fast, who had not obtained this appro-
bation of his neglect, the precept of the Church would not be a
dead letter.

Then as to " vain distinctions of meats," surely Dr. Pusey is
fully aware that, in the primitive Church, pretty nearly the same
distinctions existed as do now among Catholics. St. Chrysostom
(3rf Horn, to iJie People of Antioch)^ St, Cyril o/ Jerusalem

1888.] Tracts for the TmM, 888

{Catech. 4), St Basil {\st Horn, on Fnstinff), and Hermes, an
ajwstolic Fatlier {Pastor. 1. iii.), not to quote many decrees of
councils and other authorities, tell us that flesh-meat was'forbid-
den on all fast-days. St. John Baptist did not consider distinction
of meats vain, when he chose locusts and wild honey for his diet ;
nor did God when he instituted the old law. The rule for the
English Church St, Gregory gave to our apostle St. Augustine,
the same as is found in Canon Law. " We abstain from flesh-
meat, and from all things which come from flesh, as milk, cheese,
and eggs."

What is meant by "luxurious abstinences?" That the rich
will often turn into a luxury what is meant for humiliation, must
not surely be cast as a reproach upon the duty, nor alleged as a
sufficient motive for its abolition. Because the voluptuous who
loll u|)on velvet cushions in well-fitted pews, are better at ejise
when kneeling in church, than the poor are in their hard befls
at home, should the custom of kneeling at worship be abolished?
If occasionally conviviality is more indulged on a day of absti-
nence than becomes it, to the generality it is truly a day of
restraint and penance. A Catholic can seldom invite a friend,
certainlv not a Protestant, to his table on those days, and is
generally precluded from accepting an invitation from others.
We know Catholics not a few, who, so far from considering fish
a <lelicacy, from being obliged to confine themselves to the use of
it on cerUiin days, will not allow it on others to be served on their
tables. And many, too, we know who, week after week, find
jxiin in complying with the duty of abstinence. In fact, so gene-
rally h.as this been felt, that within these few years, the Holy See
has assented to the petition of the British and Irish Catholics, for
the abolition of the abstinence on Saturdays. And the dispen-
sation thus granted, though on such a great scale, was not a
" lucrative" one, for it did not put a stiver into the papal trea-
sury.

Ur. Pusey's own Tracts afford us sufficient proof of the vast
wisdom in his Church, when she " left it to every man's Christian
prudence and exjierience Jiow he should fast." The natural
consequence has been, that those who wish to do it, know not
liow. The Tract 66 is in answer to a letter by a clergyman
(mark that!) who, through the British Magazine, desire<l nmny
illustrations of No. 18. Among these queries are, — " In what is
the abstinence of fasting to consist ?" " Is there any difference
between abstinence and fasting?" The answer to this question
is in these different terms, — " Not, I imagine, in our Cnurch."
Now, all this uncertainty, or rather i^rnorance, proceeds from the
Anglican Church not having thouglit it proper to define how

324 Tracts for the Times. [April,

men were to fast. A very indifferently instructed Catholic would
be ashamed to ask such questions ; much more a clergyman.

In conclusion, Dr. Pusey finds himself obliged to answer the
objection that " fasting is Popish." Of course, he denies it.
He is right. It may belong to anyone who chuses to practise it.
Is it Anglican ?

12. To the practice of fasting is joined that of other works of
mortification, such as " hard lodging, uneasy garments," (hair
shirts ?) " laborious posture in prayer, sufferance of cold,'' &c.,
and it is called "part of the foolish wisdom of the day to des-
pise these small things, and disguise its impatience of restraint
under some such general maxim as — ' that God has no pleasure
in self-torture or mortification.'" (No. 66, p. 9.) These senti-
ments hardly call for a commentary. Few Protestants will read
them without pronouncing them popish; no Catholic, without
admitting their general truth.

We pass over other points of less importance, in which the
defection of the Anglican Church from primitive practices is
openly or tacitly acknowledged. There are one or two matters,
however, which we think it right to notice, before coming to
our concluding remarks.

In the first place, there is constantly a desire manifested to
bring the rite of ordination as nearly as possible to the definition
of a sacramental institution. Thus, we are told that " ordina-
tion, though it does not precisely come within our" (?. e. the
Anglican) " definition of a sacrament, is, nevertheless, a rite
partaking, in a high degree, of the sacramental character, and it
is by reference to the proper sacraments that its nature can be
most satisfactorily illustrated." (No. 5, p. 10.) The difference
seems to be placed in the circumstance, that in the other sacra-
ments the essence lies in the words or form, while in ordination
it is placed in the imposition of hands, or outward rite. (No. 1,
p. 3.) This is rather a bungling view of the sacramental theory,
and leads to important consequences respecting the Eucharist.
Of these we shall find a proper place to speak. Dr. Pusey, in
his vindication of the Tracts^ goes even farther, and shows that,
according to St. Augustine's definition, ordination might well
have been numbered among the sacraments. This definition is
no other than that of our Church, " a visible sign of invisible
grace." (Vol. iii. p. 11.) On the whole, \<^e should conclude,
that the Anglican Church would have done better to have kept
St. Augustine's definition. It would have acted in conformity
with antiquity, and it would have better preserved the dignity
of its supposed priesthood.

Secondly. The retention of ancient doctrines ^nd rites by

1838.] Tracts for the Times. 825

Catholics is clearly acknowledged. Thus, speaking of the
visible Church, we have what follows : —

" Now, the Papists have retained it ; and so they have the advantage
of possessing an instrument, which is, in the first place, suited to the
needs of human nature; and next, is a special gift of Christ, and so
has a blessing witii it. Accordingly, we see that in its measure success
follows their zealous use of it. They act with great force upon the
imaginations of men. The vaunted antiquity, the universality, the
unanimity of their Church, put them above the varying fashions of
the world, and the religious novelties of the day. And truly, when
one surveys the grandeur of their system, a sigh arises in tlie thought-
ful mind, to think we should be separated from them. ' Cum talis sis,
ulinam nostcr esses!' But, alas, an union is impossible. Their
communion is infected with heterodoxy: we are bound to flee it as a
pestilence. They have established a lie in the place of God's truth ;
and by their claim of immutability in doctrine, cannot undo the sin
they have committed. They cannot repent. Popery must be destroyed,
it cannot be reformed." — No. 20, p. 3.

This last phrase we hail with a mixed feeling of pity and
satisfaction. Of pity for those who possess not the same stability
as ourselves : of satisfaction at here finding a plain and manly
declaration of the attitude in which we mutually stand. To us
is left the blessed hope of bringing others into unity with us by
gentle arts of persuasive argument ; to themselves they reserve,
as an only resource, the ungracious work of destruction.

Thirdly. The spiritual and devotional character of the Catho-
lic worship and religion is openly avowed. Of the approaching
contest between the English Church and ours, it is said: —

" The same feelings which carry men now to dissent will carry
them to Romanism — novelty being an essential stimulant of popular
devotion; and the Roman system, to say nothing of the intrinsic
majesty and truth, which remain in it amid its corruptions, abounding
in this and other stimulants of a most potent and effective character.
And farther, there will ever be a number of refined and affectionate
minds, who, disappointed in finding full matter for their devotional
feelings in the English system, as at present conducted, betake them-
selves, through human frailty, to Rome." — No. 71, p. 4-.

Let us now apply ourselves to drawing general conclusions
from the view which we have given of these Tracts. Observe,
we have only treated of their proposed return to ancient prac-
tices, now lost among the Anglicans. We resume, then, the
query proposed at the beginning of our article. What has been
gained by the Reformation, considered as an attempted return
to primitive purity ? We have here a clear confession that,
ui)on a dozen points, affecting nothing less than the constitution
of the Church, and the authority of its hierarchy, the grounds

326 Tracts foi' the Times. [April.

upon which the most solemn dogmas rest, the public offices of
the Church, the frequent use of the Eucharistic sacrament, the
performance of daily service, the observance of fasting, and
other great moral precepts, the Anglican Church, under the
mask of a reformation, contrived to place things in a worse state
than they were before, and than they now exist in the Catholic
Church. What title can be established to the name of refor-
mation in all these particulars ?

But we fear lest, in often repeating this query, we may have
been guilty of a mistake, small in itself, but more important in
its results. We have spoken of our Church as the unreformed,
in opposition to the Anglican, as professing to be reformed. By
applying to ourselves the negative epithet, we only meant lo
speak of such reformation as led to the deplorable effects acknow-
ledged in the Tracts to have taken place in Anglicanism. We
disavow any reform amongst us, wrought on the principle it
adopted, of destroying, or abolishing, all in which there was
abuse, real or pretended. No Catholic will deny that, in many
matters of Church discipline, relaxation had crept into religious
practices, before the Reformation. The Church, in many ways,
through Papal constitutions, particular synods, and chiefly by
the council of Trent, issued decrees of reform. Whoever opens
the statutes of the council, will see in every sheet " Decretum
de reformatione." The Catholic Church, however, went to
work upon principles totally different from the Anglican. The
religious orders were supposed to be lax in discipline, and open
to abuses. England suppressed them, seized their revenues,
turned upon the world thousands of inoffensive men and women
who had long abandoned it, and abolished the ascetic life, which
the Tracts^ after Bingham, acknowledge to have existed in the
primitive Church. [Records of the Churchy No. XI, p. 3.) The
Catholic Church inquired into the abuses, framed the wisest
regulations for their correction and prevention, and only sup-
pressed, where, as in the case of the Humiliati, real crime or
gross degeneracy could be established on proof. The education
of clergy was a matter much neglected in many diocesses. The
English reformers took not a single step towards establishing a
system of clerical education, unless it was the suppression of
schools and chantries. The Catholic " reformers" at Trent,
obliged every diocess to erect and maintain an ecclesiastical
seminary, in which the young aspirants to the clerical state
should live in community, diviaing their time between study and
spiritual exercises, under the watchful eye of tlie bishop, and
persons deputed by him.

There had been grievous abuses complained of in the colla-

18S8.] Tracts for the Times. 827

tion of benefices, from the pluralities accumulated on one indi-
vidual, or tlieir collation on absentees, such as officers of the
Papal court. The Anglicans have left all these evils, perhaps
have aggravated them. 'I'hey allow many benefices, with cure of
souls, to devolve on one man's head; and Cheltenham, and
Leamington, and Brighton, will l)ear testimony to the Irish
rectorit^ and vicarages, which allow their incumbents to live
beyond the reach of their flocks' complaints. Since the council
of Trent, those abuses have been completely cut off in the
Catholic Church, and pluralities, with cure of souls, are totally
unknown among us.

We could run on through some hundred such comparisons, to
show the opposite characters of our two reforms. Ours was a
conservative reform ; we pruned away the decayed part ; we
placed the vessel in the furnace, and, the dross being melted
ofti we drew it out bright and pure. Yours was radical to the
extreme ; you tore up entire plants by the roots, because you
said there was a blight on some one branch ; you threw the
whole vessel into the fire, and made merry at its blaze. Now
that you go to look for it again, you find nothing but ashes.
And you are surprised at this T

Gladly, too, would we institute a comparison between the
instruments of our respective reformations. We would put St.
Charles Borromeo against Cranmer, or Bartholomew de Mar-
tyrilius against Bucer ; the first as agents, the latter as auxiliaries.
It has olten appeared to us, that Divine Providence was gra-
ciously pleased to give the lie to those who, under pretence of
grievous abuses and errors, caused schism in the Church, by
raising from its bosom, at that very moment, and soon after,
such men as no Reformed Church can boast of The tree might
have been known by its fruits ; an evil tree could not have
brought forth such worthy fruits of charity, of pastoral zeal, of
penitential spirit, as then came to adorn the Catholic Church.
And two things strike us principally in this matter. First, that
they flourished exactly after the western continental Church is
supposed by these Anglican writers to have set on itself the
seal of reprobation, by sanctioning heresy at Trent. Nay,
some among them, as St. Charles, were the most active pro-
moters of Its decisions. Secondly, that these extraordinary
men were all distinguished for their attachment to this Church,
and made it their glory that they belonged to it. We meet in
their writing with no regrets at a single step it had taken, no
intimation ot a thought, tliat it had inadvertently let slip a par-
ticle of primitive truth.

They were really a crown, aye, a crown of gold, to their

.^28 Tracts for the Times. [April,

mother; not as the fading garlands of Ephraiin, put on the
head in a moment of intoxication. They were heroes, whose
names, after three centuries, are fresh in the mouths of men.
Who, among the ordinary class of Anglicans, speaks of Parker,
or Jewel, or Bancroft, or Cranmer, or Bramhall, as of men
whose good deeds have descended in blessings on generations,
or whose wise sayings are as maxims of life upon the lips of
children ? But such are the memories of a Francis de Sales,
and a Vincent of Paul, a Philip Neri, and an Ignatius Loyola.
Cities, provinces, and kingdoms, publicly testify their venera-
tion for their memories, and their gratitude for the benefits they
conferred. Children, who owe their early knowledge of God,
and of good letters, to the gratuitous education of the continent,
lisp with tender affection the names of a Joseph Calasanctius, or
a Jerom Emilian. Thousands of sick, whose pillows are watched
with kindness by self-devoted, unpaid attendants, pronounce
blessings on a Camillus de Lellis, or a John of God, or a Vincent
of Paul, who inspired their successors with such charity. Has
any diocess of England raised a statue to its bishop like the
colossus of Arona ? Has any of its cities ever honoured one of
its priests, as Rome has done Philip Neri, with the title of its
apostle ?

But this comparison between the English and the true
Church, at the time when the former boasts of having risen into
primitive splendour, and left the other buried in error and cor-
ruptions, becomes still more striking, when made with reference
to the spiritual life. Never in any period of the Church was it
illustrated by persons more deeply enamoured of the cross, more
versed in the science of the inward life, or more sublimely occu-
pied in contemplation, than the Catholic, at the very moment
when England thought proper to abandon its unity. The writ-
ings of St. Theresa, and St. John of the Cross, not to mention
the lives of such men as Felix a Cantalicio, Peter of Alcantara,
Pascal Baylon, and innumerable others, are enough to have
added gloi-y to the true Church, in the brightest period of its
history. One would have supposed, that a young and vigorous
estabhshment, the Phoenix-church of England, springing forth
into a new life from the funeral pile where she had consumed
the decayed elements of her previous existence, would have
flown upwards with a steady gaze upon the sun of righteousness,
and given proof of her renewed vigour, by her eagle-flights to-
wards the regions of heaven. Instead of this, she fell heavily on
the ground, scorched in plumage, and shorn of wing, and con-
demned to walk or creep upon the earth's surface, and to seek
her food, with dimmer eye, in its stagnant, lifeless pools. At

18S8.] Tracts for the Times. 899

the same time, the spirit of God seemed restless and prolific in
the heart of her rival, bringing forth thoughts and aspirations
which rose up heavenwards, as to their proper home, unclouded
by the smallest stain that would show tnem to have risen from
a bosom tainte<i by heresy and corruption.*

If, then, nothing was gained by the Protestant Reformation
on belijilf of good aiscipline, the salutary use of the sacraments,
and other sucli-like holy practices, nothing surely was gained in
deep spirituality, and the j)erfection of the inward life. And if,
on the other hand, the Catholic reform of the Church cleared
away abuses by time introducetl, leaving the good intact, so did
it, at the same time, witness within it a marvellous development
of the principles of divine contemplation and close union of
the soul with God. That Christianity could hope for no advan-
tage in this respect from the Reformation, is acknowledged by a
late writer, whose sentiments on the German department of that
awful revolution we hope on some future occasion to lay before
our readers. Speaking of the ruin which it caused to the
German empire, Menzel observes: — "At so high a price as
this, the small gains of this measure were too dearly bought.
For, whatever improvements the new Church might boast of,
whatever errors and malpractices she could charge her mother
or elder sister with, never will she be able to deny her the
merit of havin«j preserved and disseminated the light of divine
truth and of numan learning ; never will she have it in her
power to make out a case of necessity, or to form another path
to salvation, than that on which Tauler, Thomas a Kempis, and
Fenelon, have found the right way." [Menzel^ neuere Geschichte
der Deuischen rofi der Reformation^ Breslaw, 18i^6, vol. i. p. 7.)

We shall of course be told, that the separation from the
Church of Rome took place in consequence of doctrinal errors.
Or, according to the theorv of the Tracts^ that, by sanctioning
those errors, she separated herself from the reforming Anglican
Church. Much that is coimected with this question hangs upon
the important one of apostolical succession, and the existence of
schism in that Church. That must be laid aside for the present.
But we look at the matter under another aspect.

We are told, then, that the Catholic Church had departed in
matters of faith from primitive truth, and had enslaved the hearts
of men to error. The charge was twofold. The Catholic
Church was accused of having corrupted faith, and loaded the

• ** And to what else" (than the practice of rigorous fasting) " can one attributa
it, that so many men in the Frencli Church, amid all the disadvantages of a corrupt
religion, attained a degree of spirituality rare among ourselves f" — Tracts for tkt
Timet, No. 66, p. 16.

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. Z

3S0 Tracts for tlw Times. [April,

practices of the Church with human and superstitious usages.
The Reformation attacked both. It cut off many doctrines then
believed by all the Church, saying : " these are not warranted
by primitive belief." It abolished almost the entire liturgy, and
other services in the Church, the rites used in the administration
of sacraments, and many other observances, saying : " these are
human inventions."

Well, the work was done, and God knows, thoroughly done.
Nearly three hundred years roll on, the minds of men gradually
cool, and they begin to discover that almost every one of the
rites, ceremonies, and practices, abolished at the Reformation as
superstitious additions to the primitive simplicity of worship,
were, and are, most venerable, and even traceable to apostolic
origin ! What becomes of the other half? " Oh, there we do
not yield an inch. Our reformers were certainly too hasty in
dealing with outward observances. They allowed themselves to
be misled. But in matters of faith, in which they condemned
Rome, you must not touch them. There all was done deliber-
ately and wisely." — Gently, good sirs : you yourselves have
yielded much. You have certainly betrayed a lurking desire
that ordination should be considered ^ sacrament. You your-
selves acknowledged " that the English Church has committed
mistakes in the practical working of its system : nay, that it is
incomplete even in its formal doctrine and discipline." (No. 71,
p, 27.) You concede, that " though your own revolution"
(here you have for once hit upon the right name) "of opinion
and practice was slower, and more carefully considered than
those of your neighbours, yet it was too much influenced by
secular interests, sudden external events, and the will of indivi-
duals, to carry with it any vouchers for the perfection and entire-
ness of the religious system thence emerging." You have con-
fessed that " the hurry and confusion of the times led to a
settlement of religion incomplete and defective." (p. 30.) You
allow that your " doctrine on the Blessed Eucharist, though, on
the whole, protected safe through a dangerous time by the
cautious Ridley, yet, in one or two places, was clouded by the
interpolations of Bucer." (p. 32.)

In other words, you allow the godly work of Reformation to
have been but an incomplete and ill-digested work. You see in
it errors and omissions in every part. But not a fault of com-
mission will you acknowledge. Not a single positive definition
was mistaken. You have drawn a nice limit : you have traced
very minutely the boundary mark. On one side you see pal-
pable imperfections, inconsiderate rejections, unnecessary changes,
excessive innovations, unwarranted interferences of tlie civil

18S8.] TracUfor the Ttmes. 881

power, unlucky concessioiig to the pressure of circumstances,
and, by consequence, " a system of relip^ion incomplete and
defective.'' But on the other side of the boundary, these same
men, under the very same circumstances, without any new
light, did not commit a single error. Oh no, tliere they were
impeccable. They were repeatedly deceived when the question
was about omissions, — never when tliey adopted. Tliey fell into
constant oversights when they r^ected, never once when they
defined. Wonderful sagacity ! Incomprehensible — far beyond
tlie gift of infallibility, which you are so careful to disclaim for
your Church I (p. 27.)

But we fancy that a prudent enquirer will ask for some better
proof of this wonderful preservation, than the mere assertion of
these gentlemen that their own Church " kept the nearest of any
to the complete truth." (p. 29.) When you acknowledge so
many false steps, and allow that you have no security against
others, surely men have a right to doubt whether you have
escaped them. The Catholic Church is consistent. She says,
" I am gifted with infallibility, therefore I have fallen into no
errors." The Anglican rejects infallibility, but claims an equal
obedience.

The argument, however, may be urged more home as thus;
It will be acknowledged, and by none more consistently than by
the authors of the Tracts^ that outward forms are great safe-
guards of doctrine, and that the abandonment of rites or observ-
ances of very remote antiquity will often endanger some point of
doctrine in connexion with them. Who can doubt that the
neglect of ecclesiastical censures has led to the enfeebling of
Church authority among the Anglicans? Have we not heard
Dr. Pusey complain, that the abandonment of tlie exorcisms in
baptism has much contributed to make men in his Church forget
the {)ower of Satan, and the might of our Redeemer? Now, to
apply these principles, let us take an instance which lately struck
us on occasion of the Christmas solemnity. Let us suppose that
one of the clergymen who conduct these Tracts, admiring, as he
professes, the Roman Breviary, had induced several of his bre-
thren and friends to recite its Matins togetlier on Christmas-eve,
as was usual in the ancient Church. 1 hey would find nothing
obiectionable in the office, but rather much possessing a sweet
solemnity. For we will imagine them to omit the Ave Maria at
the beginning, and the Alma Redeniptoris at the end. These
are their two principal stumbling-blocks. Arrived at the third
Nocturn, one proceeds to read the Homily of St. Gregorj' upon
the gospel, as follows : — " Quia largiente Domino, Missurum
solcmuia ter hodie celebraturi sumus, loqui diu de Evangelio non

z2

332 Tracts for the Times, [April,

possumus." {Horn. 8 in Evang.) " Since, through the divine
favour, we shall this day thrice celebrate solemn Mass, we cannot
speak at length on the gospel." These admirers of primitive
antiquity would have been a little staggered at such a declaration
of St. Gregory's. Now, if one of them had started an objection
that such words were nonsense in the mouth of a Protestant
clergyman, and that he could not feel justified in claiming any
thing common with a Pope who spoke such Popish language,
what reply would the director make ? " It is true," he would
have to reply, " that appearances are against us. We must ac-
knowledge that the communion service at the time of St. Gre-
gory, and even much earlier, was called the Mass. When we
restored primitive Christianity at the Reformation, we wisely
abolished the name. It is true that the Mass recited at that
time, and even in the age of Gelasius or St. Leo, was, prayer for
prayer, and ceremony for ceremony, the same as that of the
Popish Missal. On the same blessed occasion, we considerately
suppressed it, though probably coming from the Apostles, and
substituted something better of our own. It is true that, on
Christmas-day, this identical Popish Mass was then celebrated
three times, precisely as it will be between to-night and to-morrow
at the Catholic chapel, and by comparing the Ordo llomanus
with the modern Missals, it is evident that the three masses were
the same as now. For the homily we are reading is upon the
gospel, still said by the Papists at their first mass, and cannot
apply to the one gospel preserved in our beautiful service, from
the third. This practice, though so ancient, it was the office of
our godly Reformation to destroy. But what matter all these
things? We have lost nothing with them. Our communion,
which we shall perform to-morrow (if a sufficient number of com-
municants can be got together), is the true inheritor of all these
services. The Papists have been most careful to preserve the
Mass just as St. Gregory celebrated it, — they have been sticklers
for eveiy word and ceremony, for the very terms and titles then
used. But our Articles teach us, that all such ' sacrifices of
masses... were blasphemous fables, and dangerous deceits.' After
such a declaration, can you doubt but that that holy Pontiff, if he
again appeared on earth, would refuse to have any part in the
Popish Mass, and admire and approve our beautiful communion
service? Would he not say, ' It is much more probable that
the Papists (as they are called in derision for their attachment to
my See), — who have jealously preserved every tittle of the Liturgy
I sent into Britain by the hands of Augustine, — who still keep up
the practices we followed in my pontificate, — have lost the true
doctrine we considered embodied in that Liturgy respecting the

18S8.] Tracts for tJie Thnen. 333

blessed Sacrament, than that the Protestants should not have
retiiined or regained it, when they rejected almost every particle
of the words and forms instituted to secure it?* "

This would really be the sort of answer to which a Protestant
might be driven on such an occasion. But every Catholic, priest
or layman, who read or heard those words in the Christmas
office, took tlieui in their most literal and natural sense, and saw
no incongruity, no unfitness in the recital of them after 12(X)
years. Perhaps some pastors commenced their sermon in the
very same words, and their flocks did not see reason to consider
them a quotation from any older authority.

If the curious wish came over them to ascertain whether the
thingui as much as the names^ agree, they would open the works
of Tonnnasi or Assemani, and find what is there given as the
Mass of St. Gelasius precisely the same as they heard in their
own church. Could they require a stronger security that they
inherited the faith of those ages, than in this cautious jealousy of
their Church, preserving from destruction or alteration, the prayers,
rites, and system of worship, in which this faith was deposited,
recorded, and professed? Would they be reasonable, if they
susj)ected that they alone had carefully kept the one, who had
scornfully and profanely rejected the other r

But the question, how far the Reformation was a gain in reli-
gion, rises to a much higher level, when considered m reference
to the grounds whereby it is justified. There are curious mate-
rials in the volumes before us, for this investigation ; but they
are of too great importance to be thrown together at tlie conclu-
sion of this j)aper. We have pledged ourselves to discuss the
claims of ihe Anglican Church to ai)ostolical succession. After
that, we shall find leisure for examining the respective positions
which we and these Anglicans now hola in the controversial war-
fare.

Enough has been said to abate the pretended claims of the
Reformation to our esteem or admiration as a repristination of
pure Christianity, a return to the practices and doctrines of anti-
quity. We, of course, are unable to comprehend the love and
reverence with which these well-intentioned, but ill-guided men
look upon that awful revolution. They seem to sjieak of it as of
some wisely-devised plan of improvement ; for they are repeat-
edly praising the calm judgment or the wisdom of the Reformers,
or the " Fathers of the Reformation." Contradictions, it is true,
are to be found in what they write on this subject. But on the
whole, they consider it as a work directed by the Providence of
God, through the agency of holy men. To our minds, it pre-
sents a series of shocks and convulsions, regulated by no law but

334 Tracts for the Times. [April,

the passions of men. Like the ocean broken over its ordinary
limits, the revolutionary principle sent forth wave after wave,
each to destroy the sand-heap which its predecessor had raised,
till, by their successive exertions, a level was at last obtained, but
a level, alas ! measured by " the line of confusion, and the stones
of emptiness." {Isaiah xxxiv. 11, Prot. vers.) Every political
ruler, King, Protector, or Queen, laid his irreverent hand upon
the ill-fatea Church, and fashioned its plastic clergy after his own
will ; every divine who gained influence, changed and remodelled
its services and articles according to the system he had learnt on
the continent, or invented at home. It was the creature of acci-
dents, but of accidents entirely destructive; not one came to fill up
a breach in its walls, or to set up what another had plucked down.
Devastation came upon devastation, and destruction swallowed
up the traces of destruction, " Residuum erucae comedit locusta,
et residuum locusta} comedit bruchus, et residuum bruchi comedit
rubigo." [Joel i. 4.) So long as there was a sound place left in
the Church on which a blow could be struck, they laid them on,
and spared not. It was not till every limb, from the crown of
the head to the sole of the foot, had been disfigured, and no more
soundness was in her, that they desisted. And now, because her
wounds are healed over, and the breath of life is still in her nos-
trils, we are called to consider and pronounce her fair and per-
fect as in the days of her youth ! Because, through a special
mercy, every trace of good religion was not entirely consumed, —
because the desolation was not utter, as Sodom and Gomorrha's,
— we are invited to hail as a blessing the storm that ravaged it,
and the plague that scourged it !

Sincerely must every Catholic deplore the infatuation of such
as think and act in this manner. But they liave a claim upon
other and better feelings than those of idle sympathy. Few more
pernicious sacrifices have been made to the false divinities wor-
shipped by the age, than that of denying the spirit of prose-
lytism to be inherent in Catholicity. In the odious sense of the
word, as an intermeddling intrusive spirit, we disown it; but as
a steady, unceasing desire to bring others to the possession of the
same truth as we hold, a prudent yet zealous endeavour to re-
commend that truth by word and action, it is an essential portion
of the Christian spirit of charity. Our faith, though it may re-
move mountains, is naught without it. Ever since these words
were uttered, " We have found him of whom Moses in the law
and the prophets did write... Come and see," {John i. 45,) it has
been the very essence of the apostolic, and, consequently of the
Christian spirit. For our o\n\ parts, we have no disguise. We
wish for no veil over our conduct. It is our desire,.and shall be,

1888.] Tracts for the TinwK, 885

to turn tlie nttention of our Catholic brethren to the new forms
of our controversy with Protestants, in thennxious hope that tliey
will devote their energies to its study, and push the spiritual war-
fare into the heart of our adversary's country. Tlmt in some
directions this is bej^un, we are able to assert. There are not
wanting those who feel the insufficiency of our controversial en-
deavours in the past, to meet the exigencies of the present mo-
ment. And we are confident that all our excellent seminaries,
at home and abroad, will use all diligence for repairing their
defects. There is much that weighs heavily upon our breasts in
reference to this subject. Time, and, still more, the Divine
blessing, will, we trust, enable us to develope our meaning, and
to effect our designs.

Art. III. — The Lives and Exploits of English Highwaymen, Sfc.
ilraumfrom the earliest and most authentic sources. 1884.

OUR first, though accidental, glance at the opening page of
this work, awoke a long cherished antiquarian penchant
for the subject. The recommendations rehearsed on its title-
page, prospectively delighted us. In our mind's eye, we viewed,
and reviewed, the laurels of the chivalric profession ahd the
honour of England as inseparably entwined. The annals of
highway robbery became an affair of national interest ! We
read, — we noted, — and, we write.

Utilitarians may prate as much as they please on the vanity
of archaiological and black-letter pursuits, but, for our own poor
part, we confess we love to luxuriate among dusty, worm-eaten
tomes, — to shake hands, as it were, with our forefathers, and
trace some superannuated usage, or fugitive fashion, through each
descent and change, from age to age. After all, despite the
work-a-day wisdom that now, literally, "criethout in the streets,"
there are few intelligent minds that do not, on particular points,
pay unconscious homage to hoar antiquity ! " What's in a
name?" Yet, where is the man whose useful knowledge extends
beyond its bare rudiments, who would not rather write himself
Ueauclerc, than Buggins, — Percy, than Potts? Show us the
veriest cockney student that ever entered a mechanic's institute,
and if he can turn his admiring gaze from the pinnacles of West-
minster Abbey, and then look on the mustard-pot and pepper-
caster glories of our new " National Gallery" without a feeling
of degradation — why, " may Heaven forgive him too !" Even
in this era of innovation, we still find that the more ancient the

336 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

creation of a peerage, the date of a fraternity, or the origin of a
custom, it usually tollows, that the higher the honour, the greater
the privileges, the more authoritative the precedent, respectively
connected with each incident, and accordingly reverenced. To
this general rule, however, the peculiar mode of personal appro-
priation, termed Robbery, certainly exhibits a lamentable excep-
tion ; deprived, long since, of its native attributes, it has now
become, in its original sense of an open, hand-to-hand " taking
away by force," a mere obsolete tale of yore.

The birth of robbery is plainly registered in the sacred writings.
The author of an Essay on the Science of Swindling, in Black-
wood ( 1835), notices some infant examples of that spurious branch
of the true calling, as existing among some of the earliest nations
known after the flood ; but the primitive profession itself claims
its establishment even from the " good old days of Adam and
Eve," and is therefore indisputably entitled to rank above every
other liberal art and gentlemanly vocation in the world.

The first introducer and organizer of free companions, was no
less a personage than the first-born of our first parents. Cain,
after his settlement in the land of Nod (land of the exile, or
fugitive), doomed to find the soil refuse " to yield him its
strength," repudiated the servile, but till then only occupations of
mankind, husbandry and herding, established the noble employ-
ment of arms, and thenceforth taught his followers to make the
sword their bread-winner. The Scriptures also show, that sub-
sequently to the deluge, Nimrod, one of Noah's great-grandsons,
" began to be a mighty man in the earth." Improving on his
antediluvian ancestor's practice of the strong hand, he vanquished
his own uncle Asher, then seized his possessions, and finally
founded, by right of conquest, the first monarchy on record.

Conquest, according to Todd, in his improved Johnson, is " in
feodal law, purchase." " What we call purchase," says Black-
stone, " the feudalists call conquest, both denoting any means of
acquiring an estate out of the common course of inheritance."

These synonymes, though thus equally applicable to all trans-
fers of property " out of the common course of inheritance," are
yet differently employed to mai'k the value of a conveyance, and
note the rank of the several parties concerned. In every supreme
" taking away by force," from the first of Nimrod the Mighty, to
the last of Nicholas the Autocrat, the act has ever been legalized
under the denomination of conquest : whilst, on the other hand,
we find purchase constantly used to designate the trivial acquisi-
tionobtained by any unprivileged brother of the blade. Strange
as it may appear to common sense, this distinction between the
seizure of a kingdom and the pillage of a purse, though clearly

18S8.] Records of Of den Outlatrt. 337

noininnl, is productive of the most opposite results to the rcs|HH:-
tive o|>erators. Custom confers on the victorious conqueror
" rewards and praise ;" law, maugre its own definition, decrees
to the jK'lty plunderer — a ro|)e !

All we know of history tends to prove, that wherever ** wild
in woods the noble savage ran," selt-preservation has been held
Nature's prime law ; and, obeying its dictates, the otherwise
untutored barbarians invariably pursued

the simple plan,

That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can."

Such, Livy tells us, were precisely the habits of the aboriginal
warriors of Britain, when our island was first visited by tliose
illustrious Roman robbers, who came to inoculate the natives
with civilization, at the point of the sword, and supply their own
Apician banquets with — native oysters !

Among our Teutonic ancestors, also, martial robbery, instead
of incurring disgrace, was esteemed as the hereditary birthright
of the brave. " War and depredation," says Tacitus, " are the
ways and means of the chieftain. To cultivate the earth, and
wait the regular produce of the seasons, is not the maxim of a
German. You will more easily persuade him to attack the
enemy, and provoke honourable wounds on the field of battle.
In a word, to earn by the sweat of your brow what you might
gain by the price of your blood, is, in the opinion of a German,
a sluggish principle, unworthy of a soldier." Centuries after the
Roman historian wrote his description of the ancient Germans,
their descendants bore to Britain the unchanged valour and man-
ners of the race. Following those usages, though the Anglo-
Saxon princes countetl robbery a punishable offence, " if com-
mitted within the bounds of our kingdom," their laws awarded
merely compensation to the injured, and a fine to the sovereign;
whilst, beyond the limits of a state, spoliation was deemed both
lawful and laudable, since, to ravage the territory of any trouble-
some neighbour, at once habituated the people to the use of arms,
and gave their chief the means of rewarding their services.

^^ ar naturally formed the popular business of life, embracing,
as it did, profit and pleasure. Whenever the hardy Welshmen
" went out to plunder the English" (Saxons), they were accom-

i)anie<l by the royal minstrel, and their march enlivened with the
jarp and song. In peaceful principalities, however, when legi-
timate employment did not offer service abroad, the idle operatives
were accustomed, occasionally, to unite and levy contributions at
home. Such violations of kingly prerogative arc particularly

Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

noticed in the enactments of Ina, monarch of Wcssex, towards
the close of the seventh century. The pecuniary penalties affixed
to the offence, rise in proportion to the increased number of con-
federated " Robertsmen, or mighty theeves;" and the original
classification, as given by Lambard, in his Eirenarcha (Ed. 1594),
presents a singular proof of the purely warlike character assigned
by law to rapine. " Theeves we call them vntil the number of
seven men : from seven, a troupe, vntil 35 : and an army aboue
that number." That the epithet TliieveHi should be applied to
the first degree of comparison in the composition of an army,
may appear strangely incongruous, but the very appellation
stamps a characteristic seal on the martial mode of raising sup-
plies referred to ; for Daines Barrington, in his work on the an-
cient statutes, notes, as remarkable, " that one of the Saxon
words for booty acquired in war, is, a theft" and quotes a pas-
sage from the Saxon Chronicle in illustration.

Under the supremacy of the Norman wholesale despoilers,
retail robbery was deprived of the benefit of compensation, and
declared a capital crime. The law, nevertheless, seldom touched
any, save poor friendless rogues. By the Dictum de Kenilworth
of Henry the Third, " Knights and esquires who were robbers,
if they have no land, shall pay the half of their goods, and find
sufficient security to keep henceforth the peace of the kingdom."

But, unluckily for the wholesome terrors of justice, in such
cases it was necessary to convict each marauding baron, knight,
or esquire, before he could be amerced for his fault, and in one
notorious instance, not only were the judges unable to prevail on
a Hampshire jury to pronounce a single individual guilty of a
robbery, in which the accused actors were as well known as
dreaded, but the king himself fruitlessly complained that, on his
route through that county, his baggage had been rifled, his wines
drank, and his person and authority laughed to scorn. To com-
plete this illustration of national manners in the thirteenth cen-
tury, the sequel proved, that several persons high in his majesty's
household, were also associated with the provincial comptrollers
of the royal wardrobe and buttery, who so gratuitously undertook
those duties.

Throughout the wide-spread customs of war and chivalry, also,
the ancient British maxim, recorded by Livy, that " all things
belonged to the brave who had courage and strength to seize
them," evidently retained much of its influence, though slightly
masked in practice.

As the Saxon leader of a plundering band, above thirty-five,
when taken, disbursed his weregyldy or the full price at which his
life was estimated; so, some ages later, tlie captor of auy hostile chief

1888.] Records of Olden Outlaws. 889

" rescue or no rescue," received from his prisoner a heavy ran-
som, in recompense for present safety and future frtn^dom. The
prevalence of this principle is pleasantly exemplified in the rhym-
mg chronicle of " Maistre Wace," who wrote in the latter half
of the 12th century. Celebratinjif the victor^' gained by Richard
of Normandy over the allied French and German forces before
Ilouen, he rejoices in the captivity of a dozen luckless Counts,
" for great their ransoms sure must be;" and most considerately
remarks, that had they been killed, the conquerors would only
have profited by their arms ! Indeed, during a long series of
years, martial Englishmen were accustometl to reckon on the
emoluments of war as an important source of revenue. Hollin-
shed, in his reign of Richard the 2nd, observes, that " wherein
times i»ast, Englishmenne had greatly gained by the warres of
France, who had by the same maynteyned their estate, they
could not give their willing consents to have any peace at all with
the Frcncnmenne, in hopes by reason of the warres to profit
themselves, as in times past they had done."

The self-same spirit of " purchase" pervaded even the most
splendid recreations of knighthood. The forfeit horse and armour
of the defeated in the tournament, " belonged to the brave who
had courage and strength" to win them.

Symptoms of the olden influence are still discernible in the
liberties taken by modern warfare. The confiscation of property,
the issuing letters of marque, and the privileges of privateering,
are but modified workings of the impulse which animated Earl
Warenne, when he bared the blade borne by his ancestor in the
conquest-field of Hastings, and demanded whether that title to
his lands would be questioned !

Down to the present hour, the lower orders of our countrymen
connect the attamment of pecuniary reward with a superiority of
jiersonal prowess : hence the common challenge, where no quarrel
exists, to box for a stipulated sum, and the attendant wish, that
the " best man" may gain the meed of bravery.

Robberj', at the period under review, claimed all the chivalric
attributes; and in conjunction with daring courage, ample gene-
rosity to the poor, and a deep devotion to the fair, were, for ages,
reputed indisi>ensable requisites in the formation of everj' genuine
chevalier of the road.

These traditional endowments may be traced as high, at least,
as the famous sayings and doings of Robin Hood, whose name
was so renowned througliout Scotland in the 14th century, that,
even there, his achievements furnishe<l the favourite themes of
minstrelsy and theatrical pastimes. Fordun, it is true, alluding
to their popularity, observes, they were preferred to all other

340 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

romances. Be it so. Grant the gallant bowman a non-entity,
assuredly the manners delineated were not entirely ftctitious, and
though the personification might be indebted originally to fancy,
rather than to fact, for its knightly qualities ; still the constant
perpetuation of the portrait, in the darling sports and metrical
garlands of successive generations, would naturally render the
character an object of general interest, and probably lead many
to imitate what unvarying representations taught all to admire.
The professional creed ot the English order of outlaws, embodied
in the form of the great archer himself, is fully given in an un-
dated black-letter tract, belonging to the Garrick collection, in
the British Museum. The " Mery geste of Rohyn Huode" states,
that

" A good maner then had Robyn

In lande where that he were

Euery daye or he wold dyne

Thre masses wold he here,

The one in the worshyp of the father

The other of the Holy ghoste

The tliyrde was of our dere ladye

That he loued of all other moste.

Robyn loued our dere ladye,

For double of dedly synne

Wold he neuer do company harme

That any woman was in."

With all his reverence for religion, Robin presents himself as a
Radical Reformer in ecclesiastical discipline. Not content with
unburthening " these Byshoppes and these Archebyshoppes" of
the filthy lucre which would render their entrance into heaven
more difficult than a camel's passage through the eye of a needle,
he specially enjoins his foresters,

" Ye shall them beate and bynde."

A charge in direct contradistinction to his injunctions relative to
the humbler laity :

" Loke ye do no husbandeman harme

That tylleth wyth the plough,

No more ye shal no good yeman

That walketh by greenwood shawe ;

Ne no knyght, ne no squyer.

That wolde be a goode fellowe."

Lauding Robin's liberality, the poet closes his geste with the
following elegiac stanza of prayer and praise, rather ungramma-
tically mingled : —

" Christ liave mercy on his soule
That died on the roode, •

1838.] Record* of Olden Outlaws, 841

For he was a good outlawe,
And dyd poore men much goode.
Thus endeth the Lyfe of Robin Hode."

Trutli, we know, is often strancer than fiction ; and, setting
aside any attempt to veri^ the legendary tales in question,
history evidences that the hostility to Church dignitaries ex-
presse<l in the geste^ and the treatment bestowed on prelacy, in
the well-known collection of ballads bearing the hero of Sher-
wood's name, were not unparalleled in trie manners of the
time.

In the year 1316, two cardinals, escorted by the Bishop of
Durham, and his brother Lord Beaumont, with a numerous
guard and retinue, were stop|XHl near Darlington, by a formi-
dable troop, stripped of their money and effects, and then per-
mitted to proceed ; but the Bishop and his brother were carried
by the two brigand chiefs, Gilbert Middleton and Walter Selby,
to separate castles, where they were kept in durance until their
ransoms were duly paid.

A less comprehensive, but far more curious, commentary than
the yestCt relative to the reputation of our feudal freebooters,
appears in Sir John Fortescue's Treatise on the difference he-
ttreen an absolute and a limited Monarch}/. The most extra-
ordinary circumstances belonmng to this singular document, are
the profession and rank of Us author, who, under Henry VI,
presided as Lord Chief Justice in the Court of King's Bench :
— " It hath ben often seen in Englaud," avers tlie learned
judge, "that 3 or 4 thefes hath set upon 7 or 8 true men, and
robyd them al. But it hath not ben seen in Fraunce, that 7 or
8 thefes have been hardy to robbe 3 or 4 true men. Wherefor
it is right seld (seldom) that Frenchmenne be hangj'd for rob-
berj'e, for that they have no hertys to <lo so terrible an acte.
There be therefor moe men hangyd in England in a yere for
robberye and manslaughter, than there be hangyd in Fraunce
for such cause of crime in seven yers. There is no man hangyd in
Scotland in seven yers together for robberye ; and yet they be
often times hangyd for larceny andstolyng of goods in the absence
of the owner thereof: but their harts serve them not to take a
manny's goods, while he is present, and will defend it —
which maner of taking is called robberye. But the English-
man be of another corage ; for if he be poer, and see another
man having richesse, which may be takyn from him by myght,
he wol not spjire to do so."

When we find one of the highest legal luminaries of the time
openly vaunting the prevalence of robbery, as an undeniable
title to national preeminence in valour, we need no ghost to tell

342 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

us, what degree of actual turpitude popular opinion would
attach to the delinquency. The sentiment must have been
" familiar as a household word." Its existence in the days of
Henry VIII, is thus noticed by Dr. Henry: — " Robbery was
seldom attended with murder, and was probably still regarded
as an occupation, of which the guilt might be extenuated by
courage and success." Comparing this passage with that cited
from the oracle of Banco Regis, it will be observed, that the
jurisconsult associates robbery with manslaughter^ not murder.
Nor is the variance immaterial. Murder, in its ancient sense,
signified assassination, or the slaying a man off his guard, and
was, therefore, by the Anglo-Saxons adjudged inexpiable.
Burglary likewise subjected the perpetrator to death, both
crimes involving cowardly advantage. " Who steals in the
night," say the Swedes, " breaks God Almighty's lock." Man-
slaughter, committed in open combat, was, like robbery, ori-
ginally a redeemable offence. By the laws of Canute, if a man
was killed in a church, compensation must be made " to Jesus
Christ, the king, and the relation."

As regards robbery, we may fairly conclude that the gatherers
of unlawful toll customarily avoided mortal violence, unless
forced to it in self-defence. That such was the case when our
master bard, and his poetical contemporaries, flourished, is indis-
putable. Shakspeare, in his Tico Gentlemen of Verona, com-
prises the most material points of Robin Hood's code in a couple
of lines. Valentine agrees to join the Outlaws—

" Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women or poor passengers."

" No !" indignantlv replies the freebooter ; " we detest such vile
base practices." In this instance, it may be said, the profession
does not advance any distinct claim to humanity, as the usual
" badge of all our tribe ;" but the unequivocal testimony of
Beaumont and Fletcher will decisively prove, that a forbearance
from bloodshed was noted as an express and exclusive character-
istic of the British robber. " We use you kindly," exclaims a
masquerading bandit, in Tlte Little French Lawyer —

" In that, like English thieves, we kill you not,
But are contented with the spoil."

Dead men tell no tales ! — is the murderer's maxim ; conse-
quently, the opposite practice merited double praise, when the
mercy shown availed the brotherhood nothing in the eye of the
law. The abstractor of a coin, and the destroyer of life, were
then alike punished with death, — and dreadful indeed were the
hecatombs sacrificed in the name of justice. In the present state

(

1888.] i?M9r</« of Olden Outlaws. 848

of society, we look with amazement on the historic page, that
numhers, at tlie lowest computation, 22,000 executions for
roblx-ry and theft, within the reign of Henry VIII alone!
IIent:ener, too, who visited England not long before the death
of Queen ElizalK'th, rc|X)rts that, merely in the metropolis,
the gibbetings were said to exceed 300 every year.

Among the auxiliary causes productive of such startling
effects in the sixteenth century, two were casual and unpre-
cedented.

First, the introduction into this country of those erratic
enigmas in creation, described by the 22d Henry VIII, as "an
outlandish |)eople calling themselves Egyptians," Even then the
gypsies were so notoriously expert in the sister arts of chiro-
mancy and conveyancing {^^ convey ^ the wise it call") that the
statute invited them, as our Gallic neighbours phrase it, to quit
the kingdom, and, upon any trial for felony, annulled their
claim to a jury, de medielatc linguae.

'Die other, and incalculably more prolific source of want and
vagrancy, was the forfeiture of the monastic revenues at the
commencement of the Reformation. Ten thousand |)ersons were
supposed to be driven forth at the dissolution of the lesser mo-
nasteries only ; and, in the sequel, when the whole of the Catholic
communities were deprived of the large incomes, which sup-

iwrted, not only their congregated brethren, but, severally, a
lost of )KX)r dependants, the multitute thus thrown loose upon
the land must have been immense.

In addition to these fortuitous accumulations, robbery seldom
lacked supplies from the kindred reservoirs of war.

The military mercenary, accustomed to find in foreign plun-
der his ordinary means of living, usually resorted to similar
courses for domestic subsistence, when peace deprived him of
p;iy and free quarters. The ancient court of Star Chamber,
according to Sir Thomas Smith, as cited by Barrington, " was
originally instituted to prevent the riots of disbanaed soldiers,
who were too much encouraged in rapine by their chieftains."

So late as the latter part of Elizabeth's reign, after the return
of the fleet sent by her to the assistance of Don Antonio of
Portugal, in his war against the Spaniards, about five hundre<l
of the discarded soldiers and sailors assembled at Westminster,
purposing to pillage Bartholomew Fair; but, panic-struck at the
intelligence that the intrepid Mayor of London, Sir Richard
Martin, was advancing against them at the head of two hundred
armed citizens, they di8|)ersed and fled in all directions. The
reformadoy as the (lisbanded or disabled soldier was termed, is
frequently mentioned by our elder dramatists. Jonson's Brain'

844 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

icorm, in Every Man in his Humour, begs in the disguise of
" a maimed solaier." The character carried with it a sort ot
prescriptive right to solicit alms, and was therefore often assumed
solely for that purpose, though, when opportunity served, the
petition was probably presented much in the style practised by
the road-side invalid, whose certificate of service, in the shape
of an awkwardly placed carbine, so powerfully aroused the
charitable sympathies of Gil Bias.

" Some colouring their wanderings by the name of soldiers
returning from the wars," are specified among " sundry sorts
of base people," placed under martial law for their various out-
rages by a proclamation of Queen Elizabeth's issued in 1595.

The true son of Mars, however, commonly scorned to* sue,
in cases where he had been wont to seize. Familiar with no
manual art beyond his own handicraft, " Stand and deliver" was
considered the penniless officer's only honourable resource.

In the comedy of Tlie Puritan (1607), when Captain Idle
appears in custody, the veteran Skirmish remarks : " He has
started out — made a night on't — lacked silver. — I cannot but
commend his resolution — he would not pawn his buff jerkin !"
The author of Martin Markall (1610), in his account of the
" Gent robbers, or theeves, who ride on horses well appointed,
and goe in show like honest men," includes the soldiers that,
" eyther by breaking up of the camp," or " as loving to live in
idlenesse,'' &c. " betake themselves to robbing and stealing, un-
till they be taken and carried westward, there to make their
rehearsall." A tract, published in 1643-4 (Vol. 148 oftlte Rmjal
Pamphlets in the Brit. Mus.), represents " The Cashiered
Soldier" thus soliloquizing on the subject : —

" To beg is base, as base as pick a purse ;

To cheat, more base of all theft, — that is worse.

Nor beg nor cheat will I — I scorne the same ;

But while I live, maintain a souldier's name.

I'll purse it, I, — the highway is my hope ;

His heart's not great that fears a little rope."

The martial ist's doggrel decision in favour of manly robbery,
so strikingly coincides with Sir John Fortescue's palpable con-
tempt of the mean rogues whose " harts serve them not to take
a manny's goods, while he is present and will defend it," that,
evidently, tlie popular feeling was still in force. Though prin-
cipally indebted to vagrancy and war for recruits, robbery, in
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, extraordinary as it may
seem in the nineteenth century, counted among its members
many gallants of aristocratic birth and breeding. Martin
Markair describes some of his gent thieves, as " younger

t

\

1838.] Reeardt of Olden Outlatos. 845

brethren, wlio, being brought up in idlenesse and gaining, do
fall to this kind of lite to niaintaine the niaine cimnce.*' Besides
those whose follies and vices led them throu<^h evil ways to the
highway, others were probably driven to it in despair of doing
better. In those days, younger brothers seldom slept upon
roses. Their provision wiis mostly Hmited to the advantages of
a good education, and an employment in the service of some
noble house. Mr. Gifford, in his introduction to Alassinf/er,
quotes a passage from the fiuieral sermon of the I'^rl of Kent
(1614), in which the orator observes, that though his Lordship
" was born of a most noble family, yet, being a younger brother,
as the usual custom of our countrie is, he was compelled by
necessitie to serve in a noble familie, but after was preferred to
the service of the late Queene of happie memorie." When
wholly left to the discretionary mercies of heirship, we may
easily conceive that a dependant junior might be subjected to
such " poor allottery" and unfraternal treatment, as would goad
him to prefer even "a thievish living on the common road,"
to the dangerous vicinity of " a diverted blood and bloody
brother."

Shakspeare's Oliver and Orlando were not entirely the ima-
ginary " presentment of two brothers," and most bitter refer-
ences to the degrading and hateful subservience frequently
require<l by the first-born, abound in the poetical productions
of the period, " as plenty as blackberries." But the passionate
expostulation of Euphaiies, in Beaumont and Fletchers Queen
of Corinth, alone concentrates as much of apparently heartfelt
truth as volumes could display.

" Maybe you look'd I should petition to yon,
A« you went to your horse: flatter your servants
To play the brokers for my furtherance.
Soothe your worse humours, act the parasite.
On all occasions write my name with their's
That are but one degree remov'd from slaves.
Be druuk when you would have me, — then wench with you,
Or play the pander : enter into quarrels,
Although unjustly grounded, and defend them
Because they were yours. These are the tyrannies
Most younger brothers groan beneath, yet bear them,
From the insulting heir !"

In any attempt to illustrate past national manners, how
valuable are the services rendered by the drama. What a vivid
light has its few ancient fragments thrown on the customs and
institutions of Greece and Rome. For ourselves, how deeply
are we indebted to Shaks(x?are and the long line of his illustrious

VOL. IV.— NO. VIII. 2 A

B46 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

brethren. With them we mifigle among the walkers and talkers of
Paul's, are jostled by the " flatcap" 'prentices around the conduit
in Chepe, or join the gaming " roisterers" at an ordinary in Fleet
street. From the cross of Charing to the archery butts at
Finsbury, from the courtly pageant to the sports of the bear
garden, the whole panorama of social existence passes before us,
each individual " in his habit as he lived," and showing " the
very age and body of the time, its form and pressure."

In their representations of robbery, the majority of our old
theatrical painters took the popular view of the subject, and
often depicted the courageous and companionable qualities of the
" fine, gay, bold-faced villain," in colours much more likely to
inspire sympathy than to excite disgust. Sir John a Wrotham,
a jovial shaveling, in " Sir John Oldcastle," (1600) introduces
himself to the audience by frankly acknowledging that he is
" in plain terms a thief, yet let me tell you too, an honest thief:
one that will take it, where it may be spared, and spend it freely
in good fellowship." Practising as he preaches, this lusty fol-
lower of Friar Tuck maintains a dainty leman, and emulates
Falstaff' in his love for sack. Whilst foraging on Blackheath,
he encounters Henry the Fifth incognito, and executes a piece
of retributive justice on the juvenile pranks of the Prince, by
easing his Majesty of a purse of angels, in the good old style of
greenwood borrowing. Though subsequently pardoned by the
King, with an injunction to repent, he soon after plunders an
Irishman, who having previously murdered and stripped his
master, is in the end sentenced to be hanged, which the Pat-
lander, with an amiable recollection of " home, sweet home," begs
may be done " in a wyth after the Irish fashion." Sir John,
being " a pitiful thief," and appearing as an approver against
the assassin, receives forgiveness in full for all past peccadilloes,
on a bare promise of future amendment. In this drama we
have another proof of the wide disparity existing in public
estimation between a blood-stained or stealthy depredator, and
the mere hardy ranger, whose " corage" openly perilled his
life, on double hazards, to obtain the modicum of " richesse"
necessary to the wants, and expended in the maintenance of
" good fellowship."

The jocund and liberal disposition ascribed to honcnt thieves,
probably obtained for the fraternity their familiar designation
of good fellmcs. The disguised King, in old Hey wood's Kdttard
the 4t/i, (1599) calls Hobs the tanner « good fellow." Hobs
replies, " I am no good fellow, and pray God thou beest not
one." — " Why ?" queries the monarch ; " dost thou not love a
good fellow ?" <' No," responds the tanner, " good fellows be

I

1888.] Recordft of Olden Ouilawt. 847

thieves." The appellation, apparently, also bore some affinity to
that fairy amalgamation of mischirt and mirth, Robin Good-
fellotr. One of the knavish elf's aliases was Vug. " Pugging,"
in the glossjiry of Archdeacon Naros, is illustrated by the confes-
sion of Autolycus, in his song, that the linen ex{)osed for bleach-
ing " doth set my pugging tooth an edge." And puggtird is
among the caiit terms applied to a thief in Middleton's Roaring
Girl "

Another jovial appropriator of " unconsidered trifles," and
likewise a mad member of the Church militant, plays a conspi-
euous part in (ieo. Peele's Edward the \st. LIuellin havincr
assumed the title of Robin Hood, his attendant priest, Ilugli
ap David, dubs himself Friar Tuck ; and, apprised that a rich
farmer is on his way to receive a large sum of money, " spreads
the lappet of his gown, and falls to dice." On the traveller's
entrance, his attention is drawn to the Friar's solitary game, by
liearing him exclaim, in all the seeming excitement of a modern
hellite, " Did ever man play with such uncircumcised hands !"
Concluding that the gamester must be moon-struck, when he
declares that he has lost five gold nobles to Saint Francis, and
is anxious to p.ny them to the saint's receiver, the farmer re-
plies that he holds that office, and is so far on his road to break-
fiist with his patron " on a calfes-head and bacon." The nobles
are delivered, and he departs. On his return, he finds the
Friar still busied with the bones. But luck has changed sides ;
and he is compelled to disburse on the saint's account a hundred
marks, won by Hugh in the interim.

Peele's offspring yet owns a " local habitation and a name."
Numerous, indeed, have been the transmigrations of the gambling
robber's essence. At his last birth, in an histrionic shape, the
ingenious author of T/ie Brigand officiated as godfather, and
gave the name of Massaroni to an Italian incarnation of the
Cambro- Briton's exploit.

Under various forms, Hugh still tenants our encyclopaedias
of anecdote ; and in the person of Thomas Rumbold adorns the
latest edition of that j)eculiar series of the limnance of History
which stands at the head of the present article, and is there
facetiously y'clept Hie Lives and Exploits of English Highuay
men^ Sfc. In this modern version of an incident, " drawn from
the earliest and most authentic sources," the Church, with
praiseworthy propriety, reverses its original position, and Rum-
bold, the substitute for Friar Tuck, victimises an Archbishop of
Canterbury to the tune of fourteen hundred {)ounds. 'I his
most probable adventure is a sample of the authentic achieve-
ments, attributed throughout the work to a certain set of names,

2 a2

348 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

and exhibiting, with very few exceptions, a collection of extrava-
gancies about as veracious, but not quite so amusing, as the
wondrous deeds performed by that pattern of prodigies. Baron
Munchausen.

In sooth, historical memoirs of eminent " takers away by
force," from generals up to emperors, lie ticketed on every book-
stall ; but authentic memorials of distinguished leaders in the
minor branches of " purchase," are of rare occurrence in our
biographical literature. Even " Martin Markall," their espe-
cial chronicler, loosely commences his Runagates Race, or the
originall of the Regiment of Rogues, at the rebellion of Jack
Cade, and simply commemorates Hugh Roberts, one of the
insurgent's associates, as the founder of certain laws and regula-
tions for the government of the fraternity. He also states, that
the fourth successor to the chieftainship of Roberts, was cele-
brated by the style and title of " Puffing Dicke," and about
1485, he "first gave terms to robbers by the highway, that
such as robbe on horsebacke were called highway lawyerst and
those who robbed on foote he called paddersy

This tract, like the cotemporaneous productions of Greene,
Dekker, and others, on the same theme, principally expatiates
on the various arts of coney-catching, or cozenage combined with
theft, then in practice. Purchase, however, in its higher walks,
or rather rides, received tribute from the Muses in more forms
than the dramatic, for " a doleful ballad" usually attended the
premature close of any great man's career in the calling. A
specimen of these valedictory obsequies to " birth, parentage and
education, life, character and behaviour," is preserved in a folio
volume of antiquarian and typographical scraps in the British
Museum. Luke Mutton's Lamentation, which he wrote tlie
day before his death, is printed in black letter, without a date, —
an odd omission in a last dying speech and confession ; but the
final stanza fixes tlie event before the decease of Queen Eliza-
beth.

In the original, the second line, and the concluding couplet
of the first verse, are regularly repeated in each afterwards.

" I am a poor prisoner condemned to die.
Ah ! wo is me, wo is me, for my great folly :
Fast fettered in irons in place where I lie.
Be warned young wantons, hemp passeth green holly.
My parents were of good degree,
By whom I would not ruled be.
Lord Jesus, receive me, with mercy relieve me ;
Receive, oIi, sweet Jesus, my spirit unto thee.

f

1888.] Records of Olden Outlaws. 849

" My imme is Hutton, yea Luke, of bad life. — Ah, &c.
Which on the highway did rob man and wife : be warned, &c.
Inticed by many a graceless mate,
Whose counsel I repent too late. — Lord, &c.

" Not twenty years old (alas I) were I,
When I began this fellony :
With me went still twelve yeomen tail,
Which I did my twelve apostles call.

" There was no squire, nor baron bold,
That rode by the way with silver and gold.
But I, and my apostles gay.
Would lighten their load ere they went away.

" This news procured my kinsfolks grief;
That hearing I was a famous thief.
They wept, they wailed, they rung their hands,
That thus I should hazard life and lands.

" They made me a jaylor a little before,
To keep in prison offenders sore ;
But such a jaylor was never known,
I went and let them out every one.

" I wis this sorrow sore grieved me.
Such proper men should hanged be ;
My officer then I did defie.
And ran away for company.

" Three years I lived upon the spoile,
Giving many an Earl the foyl ;
Yet did I never kill man nor wife.
Though lewdly long I led my life.

" But all too bad my deeds have been, — Ah, &c.
Offending my country and my good Queen. — Be warned, &c
All men in Yorkshire talk of me,
A stronger thiefe tliere could not be.
Lord Jesus, forgive me, with mercy relieve me ;
Receive, oh, sweet Saviour, my spirit unto thee."

An accompanving " complaint" asserts, that Luke was born
on St. Luke 8 day ; that, when he was nineteen years of age,
" lie rob'd in bravery nineteen men," and that there were " nine
score indictments and seventeen" against him at the York assizes,
when he was tried and doomed. However atrocious Hutton's
previous offences might be, he certainly was guiltless of the final
black act committed in his name — against poetry. Such for-
geries were conunon among the dregs of the scribbling craft,
even in the Elizabetlian age ; and it is interesting, as another
literary trait of the time, to find the abuse noticed by the genius

$80 liecords of Olden Oiitlawi. [April,

of Beaumont and Fletcher. In their Lovar's ProgresSi Malfort,
conscious of his demerits, remarks: —

" I have penn'd mine owne ballad

Before my condemnation, in feare
Some rimer sljould prevent me."

As the Lament decidedly was not the composition of Hutton,
its contents would be utterly worthless, but that the allusion to
his avoidance of blood, is so far confirmatory of the self-imposed
law among the " highway lawyers," and that there are curious
grounds for believing the principal events mentioned were facts
of public notoriety.

That Button's parents moved in good society can scarcely be
doubted, for, most unquestionably, tneir son possessed far higher
claims to the honours of poesy, than the Tyburn laureat who
pocketed pence in his character An undated quarto tract,
really written by the " Gent thief," and bearing the quaint title
of the The Blacke Dogge of Newgate^ is also among the stores
of the Museum. It is dedicated to the Lord Chief Justice
Popham, professedly that the judge may know, and, knowing,
reform the evils exposed by its author. From his address to the
reader, it appears that he had previously published, what he
terms his Repentance, and was induced by its favourable recep-
tion to present this " second labour." The first part of The
Black Dog is metrical, and though composed in a figurative
style, bordering on bombast, amply proves, that the writer must
have received from nature an ear for harmonious verse, and from
his family an education much above the vulgar. The work thus
opens : —

" When as blacke Tytan, with his duskie robe,
Had Tellus clouded with his curtayne's nyght,
Fayre Phebus peering underneath earthe's globe,

With winged steedes hence takes his course aright :
Tytan he leaves to beare imperial sway,
Commanding nyght, as Phebus did the day."

Retired to rest, he begins to reflect on —

" A thousand thinges, which had been in my time :
My birth, my youth, my woes ; which all surmount
My life, my losse, my libertie, my crime."

Sleep seizes him, and a vision succeeds. He imagines himself
in the infernal regions, but is encouraged by Minerva to expose
the practices of the " helhoundes" wlio surround him. The
grievances alleged, are mostly exactions to which the prisoners
were subjected, and the shameful treatment of those who could
not satisfy such demands. In the prose portion of the pamphlet,
Hutton describes the nefarious tricks in use among the under-

I

1888.] Itecordg of Olden Outiairn. 851

lings of the law, and professed thief takers, all of whom he
classes under the connnon head of " coney-catchers." The title
of his book he explains, as referring both to the principal func-
tionary accused, and to an existing tradition, that Newgate was
hainited by an apparition in the shape of a black dog, though,
he sagaciously adds, " there is no sucii matter."

The Chief Justice to whom Ilutton addressed his accusations,
was not a man likely to disregard the appeal. Eminently inde-
fatigable and inexorable in the execution of his duties, his name
has descended to us singularly connected with the race of
" highway lawyers," for his Lordship was shrewdly suspected of
having practised in his youth those very " arts inhibited and out
of warrant," which he afterwards punished so mercilessly in
others. Anthony Wood says, that James I was deterred from
pardoning many criminals of that description by Popham's in-
terference, significantly adding, that " he was well acquainted
with their ways and courses in his younger days."

The investigation called for, probably led to Uutton's official
employment in the prison, and the letting himself and friends
" out every one." Poverty and poetry are too often united, to
make it "a world's wonder" if robbery were recognised as their
offspring ; but to find poetry the issue of robbery, may be regarded
as an anomalous event in the progress of production. Never-
theless, Hutton is not the only worthy entitled to a niche in the
triune temple of Mars, Mercury, and Apollo. On the 11th of
February 1626, one of Joseph Mead's news letters {Harl. MSS.)
informs Sir Martin Stuteville, that " Mr. Clavell, a gentleman,
a knight's eldest son, a great highway robber, and of posts, was,
together with a soldier, his companion, arraigned and con-
demned, on Monday last, at the King's Bench bar. He
pleaded for himself, that he never had struck or wounded any
man, — never had taken any thing from their bodies, as rings,
&c., — never cut their girths or saddles, or done them, when he
robbed, any corporeal violence. He was, with his companion,
reprieved. He sent the following verses to the king for mercy,
and hath obtained it : —

" • I that have robb'd so oft, am now bid stand ;
Death and the law assault mc, and demand
My life and means. I never used men so ;
Hut having ta'en their money, let them go.
Yet must I die ! And is there no reliefe ?
The King of Kings had mercy on athiefcl
8o may our gracious king too, if he please,
Without his council, grant me a release.
God is his precedent, and men shall see
His mercy goe beyond severity.' — "

352 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

Clavell, though rescued from death, suffered a long imprison-
ment. The preface to his poetical Recantation of an ill-led
Life ; or a Discovery of the Highway Imic^ is dated " From
my lonely, sad, and unfrequented chamber, in the King's Bench,
October, 1627."

A number of addresses, in verse and prose, intended to pro-
pitiate the king, the nobility, the judges, magistrates, clergy, &c.,
are prefixed to the poem ; and the whole closes with a postscript
imploring his majesty : —

" Oh 1 free me from this lingering lethargie ;
Let me at libertie, or let me die I"

Throughout the work, Clavell is profuse in his professions of
sincere repentance, and assurances, that if royal clemency will
grant him his freedom, the remainder of his life shall show him
not unworthy the blessing he solicits. His entreaties were
finally successful ; and, after obtaining his liberty, he endea-
voured to interest " his ever dear and well-approved good uncle.
Sir William Clavell, knight-banneret," by some feeling and
forcible lines, ending with the following impressive protesta-
tion : —

" Oh 1 let not me

Be new arraigned by your severity.
Forget my foul offences, me aiid all, \
Until some brave and noble actions shall
Bring you anew acquainted. If againe
I ever take a course that shall be vaine,
Or if of any ill I faulty be.
Oh, then, for ever, disinherit me.

•* Your right sorrowful nephew,

" JofiN Clavell."

The ex-highwayman, we find, faithfully redeemed his pledges,
and, we may infer, regained his original station in life; for the
epistle from the stationer to the buyer, appended to the third
edition of Clavell's work, in 1634, concludes thus: — " The late
and general false report of his relapse, and untoward death,
made me most willing again to publish this work of his, to let
you know, he not only lives, but hath also made good all these
his promises and strict resolutions ; insomuch, that it has be-
come very disputable amongst wise men, whether they should
most admire his former ill ways, or his now most singular refor-
mation, whereat no man outjoys his friend and yours — Richard
Meighen."

Clavell's Discovery of the Highway Law appears to be the
only genuine, and consequently the most interesting, professional
record of the subject now extant, since it lays open all the

1838.] Uecords of Olden Outlattn. 858

systematic machinery, rules and regulations, of our "squires of
the night's body," during the first half of the seventeenth
century.

Agreeably to knightly custom, every aspirant, on his admission
as *' a brother of the companie," took an initiatory oath " out
ere he rode." The novice solemnly swore to be true to his com-
rades, and should fate throw him into the clutches of the Philis-
tines, never to reveal the name of a brother, or give any informa-
tion injurious to the calling, though the disclosure would save his
life. When " prest hard" by a judicial examiner, he was bound
to " create some men in his owne fantasie," give an imaginary
account of their persons, and place them all " farre off." Honour
among thieves ! wtis then something more than an ironical figure
of speech. Clavell, though a penitent and petitioning prisoner
when he wrote, did not scruple to acknowledge that he had rigidly
adhered to his vow, and when " there was no longer saying nay,"
merely owned to his acquaintance with a few men, who " Had
bin recorded many times before," adding to those " some fayned
names."

Another dim vestige of the vocation's traditionary claim to
a military character, shows itself in Clavell's sneer at his quondam
friends :—

" You do awe,

The silly beasts, that Beere and Claret draw,
For they you Captains and Lieutenants call."

That many whom Clavell knew as " Knightcs of the lloades,"
were qualified by birth to claim kindred with gentle blood, he
also proves. He writes to the justices of pejice, " Great is your
care and trouble, almost at every session and assize, in tryall of
those who this way offend : Seriously to be lamented is the losse
of many young gentlemen (well descended) who have been for
that fact found guilty, and accordingly suffered untimely, igno-
minious, yet deserved deaths." ^Ve have a graver witness in
Dishop Eiarle, who, noticing in his *•'■ Microcoamogrnvhy" the
various evils younger brothers were heirs to, says, " otliers tiike
a more crooked path, through the king's highway; whereat length
the vizard is plucketl off", and they strike fair for Tyburne."
Clavell shows that not only masks, but disguises of every kind
were used " for the nonce." They wore " muzles and nuifflers,"
patches for the eyes, false beards, wigs, and sometimes even
" that great wen which is not naturall." So complete were the
transformations occasionally, that " Martin Markall" declares,
" I have heard, and partly know, a highway lawyer rob a man

354 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

in the morning, and hath dined with the martin^ or honest man
so robbed, the same day at an inne, being not descried, nor yet
once mistrusted or suspected for the robbery." Before we leave
the most celebrated and lucky of Gent robbers '* alone in his
glory," a conjecture may be hazarded relative to his final fate.
In one of Clavell's supplications to the king, he observes, that, if
liberated,

" I do intend,

Whilst these your Mars endure, even there to spend
My time in that brave service."

On the outbreak of the civil wars, gratitude would surely range
him, if living, on his sovereign's side, and he perhaps ultimately
perished in defence of tiie erring, but not worthless prince to
whom he was previously indebted for a forfeit life. Taking the
historical foundations for a romance, might not a superstructure
be raised worthy the talents of our best living architects in that
department? Eh, Messrs. Ritchie, James, Bulwer, or Smith?
Or what say you^ Harrison Ainsworth ? — there's firmer footing
for you than Turpi n's ride to York — a word with you on that
hero, " time and place agreeing."

We now arrive at what may be termed the golden age of rob-
bery in England, — that epoch of anarchy so graphically described
by \Vithers, in his " What peace to the Wicked V (1646) :—

" Some strive for this, and some for that,
Some neither know nor care for what.
So wars go on, and get they may
Free quarters, plunder, and their pay.
Some fight their liberties to save,
Some that they others may enslave.
Some for religion and for Christ
Some that they may do what they list.
Some for the Commonwealth's availe.
Some for themselves with tooth and naile :
And they that have the basest end,
As fairly as the best pretend ;
Not caring whether their desire.
Obtained be by sword or fire,
By truth or lies, with love or hate,
By treachery or fair debate.
This is our posture I "

That tremendous struggle, which our great-grandfathers were
wont to denominate the " great rebellion," naturally added
both numbers and dignity to the free companions who already
subsisted " at point of fox." As tlie royal cause became hope-

1888.] Kecords of Olden Outlaws, 355

less, t!ic routed nnd fugitive malignnnts were compelle<l to ioiii the
illegitimate tnulc, jiiici still prove their attiichnient to the King by
robbing the rovmllieads. It followed, of course, that the esta-
blishc*d practitioners, gladly identifying themselves with the party
of their prince, thenceforth plundered " cum privilcf/io." Fore-
most on the rolls of higliway renown, at that })erio<l, appears the
name of James Hind. It is seldom that heroes of his order are
honoured by literary commemoration, until death sets the signet
of notoriety on their memories. But the author of " The Prince
of Pri</(/s' Rcrels" published in 1651, after concluding the dra-
matic supjwsititious adventures of Hind, by representing him as
the guide of Charles the 2nd in his escape from the late battle of
Worcester, adds the following epilogue: —

" Our author's invention would not admit delay,
But strait produced new plots to enlarge this play :
And thinking to write what's fancy had commended,
One comes and tells him. Hind was apprehended :
Whereat, amazed, he bids his friends adieu,
And forth he's gone, to inquire if the news be true."

The news proved |)erfectly correct. One of the public hebdo-
medal papers of the time, The Weekly Intelligencer , announces,
on the 9th of November, 1651, the seizure of Hind, and his
committal to Newgate, " where many people run thither to see
him." As the royal rout at Worcester occurred only in the Sep-
tember preceding Hind's arrest, the fact that he was popularly
known to have fought under the Stuart banner, sufficiently shows
the general, though etniivocal celebrity attached to his person and
name. The innumerable tongues of rumour, too, had proclaimed
liim " instrumental! in conveighing away the Scots King and
Wilmot ;" but when examined before the State Council at White-
hall, he declared, that " he never saw the king since the fight at
Worcester, neither did he know of his getting off the field." At
the same time, boldly adding, in the true spirit of a devoted
cavalier, constant though captive, that " he was now glad to hear
that the king had made so happy an e8cai)e."

The earliest notice of Hintf in the mvaluable collection of
pamphlets presented by George the 3rd to the British Museum,
IS in " The Perfect Weekly Account'^ of the 13th September,
1649. The news collector reports from Bedford, September Si-d,
" Last night was brought in to this gaol, two prisoners taken up
upon pursuit by the country, for robbing some soldiers of about
£800 upon the wav, in the day time : there were five in the fact,
and are very handsome gentlemen : they will not confess their
names, and therefore are supposed to be gentlemen of quality,
and 'tis conceived they are of the knot of Captain Hind, tliat

356 Recorda of Olden Outlaws, [April,

grand thief of England, that hath his associates upon all roads,
rhey strewed at least £100 upon the way to keep the pursuers
doing, that they might not follow them." The same {not un-
questionable) authority, on the 20th of the same month, states,
" Yesterday about 20 horse of Hind's party (the grand highway
thief), in the space of two hours robbed about 40 persons between
Barnet and Wellin. They let none pass to carry news, while
they staid about this work, by which means they all escaped be-
fore the country could be raised, but the Lord-General's horse
are diligent in seeking after them."

Allowing every latitude to the original sin of newspaper exag-
geration, what must have been the condition of " merrie Eng-
land," when such events were publicly recorded week after week;
and that they were not entirely devoid of truth, is confirmed by
the mention of the cavalry in pursuit, which no doubt refers to a
circular issued by General Fairfax, only three days before the
date of the statement last quoted. It was addressed to the com-
manders of " every respective regiment of horse," urging them
to be active in the apprehension of all robbers, and promising
what was then a high reward for every one so captured. A co-
temporary but interdicted paper, the royalist " Man in the
Moon" animadverting on the subject, sarcastically observes, that
the " House of Robbers" had voted for the next six months, a
reward often pounds for the taking of every burglar or highway
robber, " the State's officers exempted." The proscription pro-
bably proved effective, for, on the 24th of the succeeding December,
no less than twenty-eight malefactors, principally of the classes spe-
cified, were all gibbetted together at Tyburn, among whom was
" one Captain Reynolds, who was of the king's party in Cornwall,
at the disbanding of the Lord Hopton's army at Truro." — " His
carriage was very bold, and as he was going to be turned off,
he cried, God bless King Charles, I'tve le Roi" " The grand thief
of England," however, could not possibly have participated in the
extensive purchases debited against him by the news writer in
1649 ; at least, according to the memorial published in his name,
and apparently authentic : " The Declaration of Captain James
Hind" put forth to confute " impertinent stories, and new in-
vented fictions," is written in the first person. He speaks peni-
tentially of his past life, but consoles himself, both morally and
loyally, that " never did I take the worth of a peny from a poor
man \ but at what time soever I met with any such person, it was
my constant custom to ask. Who he teas for? if he replied, For
the King, I gave him twenty shillings: but if he answered. For
the Parliament, I left him as I found him." As to any exploits
on the highway, he says, " Since 1649, I am guiltless: For in

1888.] Records of Olden OtUlatc^. 857

tlie same year, Maif 2, I departed England (as appears by my
confession to the Council at White Hal on the lOtn inst.) and
went to the Hague ; but after 1 had been there three days, I
de|)arted for Ireland in the vessel that carried the king's goods,
and landed in Galloway." He relates that he remained in Ire-
land nine months, and was wounde<l by halberds in the right
arm and hand, whilst fighting as a corporal in the Marquis of
Ormond's life-guards, when the Parliamentary forces surprised
Youghal. After quitting Ireland, he visited Sciliy and the Isle
of \fan, thence proceeded to Scotland, where he was introduced
to Charles the 2nd, and kissed his hand at Stirling. The king
commended him to the Duke of Buckingham, " to ride in his
troop, because his life-guard was full." Flying from the defeat
at Worcester, he concealed himself during daylight among bushes
and hedges, and travelled by night. For five days he was hidden
in Sir John Packington's woods. At length he ventured to London,
and after lodging five weeks, under the assumed name of Brown,
in the house of " Denzy the barber, near Saint Dunstan's
Church," was apprehended on the 9th of November, Signed,
James Hind, Nov. 15th, 1651.

If this document may be fully credited, Hind, when advised
by a gentleman who visited him, to petition Parliament for his
life, and recommend himself to mercy, by the discovery and im-
peachment of his associates, indignantly rejected " such treachery
and perfidiousness," exclaiming, " If I die, I die alone !" Poor
Hind's gaol treatment must have been sufficiently rigorous. A
i)etition from him to the Council, praying for some relaxation of
Its severity, was so far successful, that " it was ordered that he
should have a bed, which was the final result." The prison i)oor
laws of those troublous times certainly required reform. In a
London Bill of Mortality, from the 12lh to the 19th of Decem-
ber 1644, ap|K?ars the following astounding, but official entry: —
" Starved, three cavaliers in the New Prison, at James, Clerken-
well...3." Perhaps the most extraordinary circumstance con-
nected with the close of Hind's extraordinary life, is the fact,
that two London sessions passed without a single indictment
being preferred against him. " T7ie Perfect Account of January
21st, 1652, mentions that such being the case, the great robber
" is the next circuit to go from sizes to sizes, in those counties
where it is thought he hath committed his greatest pranks, where
any one that he hath wronged may prefer their indictments
against him." If this arbitrary proceednig took place, it appears
to have failed in its object, as far as robbery was concerned, for
anotlier periodical styled " Perfect Passages" &c. on the follow,
ing 12th of March, after relating that a woman had been sentenced

358 llecords of Olden Outlaws, [April,

to deatli at the Reading assizes " for having fifteen husbands
living at one time," adds, that Hind also was put on his trial
" for murdering of a man some years since." Witnesses swore
to the fact, and one to Hind as the perpetrator. He " confessed
that he was in tlie company of those that killed the man, but
denied that himself did the act, urging farther, that it was in
time of war." The jury returned a verdict of manslaughter.
" Then he desired the benefit of clergy, which was given him,
but although he is in part a schoUer, yet could he not read
audibly, whereupon the judge proceeded to sentence." He was
subsequently reprieved by the judge, and the public journals
take no farther notice of the event. One of his apocryphal bio-
graphers ascribes his pardon to the act of oblivion passed by the
governing powers. If so, it seems they were determined to re-
deem their oversight, and still subject him to capital punisli-
ment ; for, in the succeeding August, he was tried at Worcester,
on a charge of high treason, in invading the Commonwealth,
found guilty, and condemned to be hanged, drawn, and quartered.
From the account published of his execution, he appears to have
gloried in his loyalty to the last, and " prayed God to bless the
king, and all that wished him well." Thus, as the author of
" No Jest like a true Jest," concludes his counterfeit " Compen-
dious Record" of Hind's career,

" Thus fate, the great derider, did deride,
That lived by robbery, yet for treason died."

Let not any innocent reader imagine that the petty arts of book-
making and bookselling, were greater mysteries in the days of
the puritanical despisers of human learning, than they arc in the
present printing-press age of multitudinous knowledge. Fabri-
cated histories of Hind were in common circulation, even before
his literary appearance as the " Prince of Pri^gs." A pamphlet,
giving the particulars of Hind's arrest, examniation before the
Council, and behaviour in Newgate, relates, that a gentleman
who had obtained admittance to him, produced two books, " the
one entituled. Hind's Rambles^ the other Hind's E.vploitSy" and
inquired if he had ever seen them before? " He answered,
yes : and said upon the word of a Christian, they were fictions."
This truth-telling tract was printed for G. Horton in November
I60I. In the following January the very same publisher sent
forth, " We hare brought our Hogs to a fine market^ or Strange
Newesfrom Newgate." In this farrago of ridiculous falsehoods,
among the many marvels fathered upon Hind, is an encounter
with a witch at Hatfield, by whom " he was enchanted for the
space of three years," and received from her " a thing like a sun-

1888.] Records of Olden Outlaws. 359

diall, the point of which should direct him which way to take
wlien pursued." Unfortunately for Hind, but necessarily for
the weird- woman's credit, the charm expired in 1649. This
snm()le is pretty well for an cxjwser of previous fictions, but
nothing to the modest intrepidity displayed in his assurance to
his " Moved countrymen," that the adventures recounted are
attested under Hind's own hand ! Another life of *' The Eng-
lish Guzman," also of 16.52, contains an account of " How Hind
was made a captain at Colchester," which, if at all consistent
with the manners of the time, is valuable, as showing how little
Hind's vocation, even then, stigniati/ed its known professors in
general society. " When the rising was in Kent and Essex,
Hind was among them : being beloved of many wilde gentlemen,
wiio still calletl him captain at every word : Hind said. Gentlemen,
you call me captain, but I will desire you to call me so no more,
till I am one, or may deserve it. The gentlemen said, We will
speak to Sir IVilHam Compton, who wants a captain in his regi-
ment of foot : they all go to Sir William Compton, who knowing
Hind, since he was wont to borrow h'ls horse, to do many mad
pranks, forgave him all that was on the old score, and began a
new one with him, giving him a commission for to be a captain."
The author of this version of Hind's " moving accidents by flood
and field," may rank as an humble harbinger of our illustrious
Scott, for, taking advantage of his hero's own certified declara-
tion, he carries hmi successively to Holland, Ireland, the Isle of
Man, and Scotland, furnishing him witli gratuitous adventures
at each place, and thus presenting a rude species of the historical
novel. About a month after Hind's arrest, some anticipatory
wjig published, " Tlic last icill and testament of James Hind,
hiyhttay latryer^ now sick to death in his chamber in Newt/ate.
Full of various conceits beyond expectation." The conceits of
this little satirical tract of six pages, are certainly so " beyond
expectation," in the author's superiority over most of his name-
less, brainless, brothers of the quill, that a taste of his quality
may be relished, for its odd mixture of satire and sense : —

" In the name of Mercurie, (Go<l of Thieves, Prince of Priggs,
Chiefest of Cheates, Patron of Pickpockets, Lord of Leasings, and
Monarch of Mischief,) Amen. I, James Hynd, Highway Lawyer,
being (in body) sick of that deadly disease, called Sestions, but well
and strong of mind, do hereby make my last will and testament, in
manner and fonne following. Imprimis, I give and bequeath all my
Fallacies, Fraudes, Fegaries, Slights, Stratagems, Circumventions,
Assa-osinations, Dissimulations, and Amb.igcs, to the present Gowne-
men, who fight at liarrirrs, at the Upper liench, Chnncerir, and wlier-
ever else Littleton and Ployden is mentioned : not doubling but they

86P Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

will improve this my Legacie to their utmost advantage, that so (if it
could be possible) they may yet be more renowned for their Evasions,
Inhibitions, Renioras, Collusions, &c. and generally for all their egre-
gious Procrastinations, Gulleries, and Knaveries, practised upon their
poore deluded clients. And so great is the love I bear them, that I
earnestly wish I could also make them full and sole Executors to all
my sinnes. Uein, I give and bequeath my Honours and Titles to the
Right Honourable the Quondam House of Peers, earnestly hoping, that
they will more thriftily employ the Legacie I leave them, then they
have hitherto done that of their ancestors : I confesse my forefathers
never knew what belonged to a George dangling in a blew riblwn, yet
they were capable of Coats of Arms too, viz. three Bulls heads in a
greenc field, the fatall axe tow'ring above either their heads, enough to
signifie their magnanimitie and courage, and that they came not short
of any, for down-right blows."

" What would it boot me, though I could discourse
Of a long golden line of ancestors ?
What need I search or seek descent of blood,
From Father Japhet, since Deucalion's flood I
Or call some old church windows to record.
And prove my greatest grandsire Earle or Lord 1
Or find some figures halfe obliterate.
In raine-beate marble near to the church gate,
Upon a crosse-leg'd tombe I What boots it me
To show the rustic buckle that did tie
The garter of my father's father's knee ?
Or cite old Ocland's verse, how he did wield
His sword at Turwin or at Turnay field? —
Upon a six square piece of ivorie
Lyes all the glory of my progenie I"

Tlie heraldic bulls' heads, with their accompanying axes, are
emblematic of Hind's reported original trade, that of a butcher.
Towards the conclusion of the incarcerated testator's will, his
representative takes due care to claim for him the twin car-
dinal virtues of his calling, " having ever abhor'd to rob the
spittal, viz. to take ought from the poore ; ever avoided blood-
guillinesse, and observing a decorum in the midst of confusion.'*
It cannot be denied that then, as now, a newspaper report fre-
quently required confirmation, but if The Faithful Scout of the
20th of February 1652 was correct in his intelligence, Hind's
aversion to blood-guiltiness was not a family attribute. The
Scout announces, from Oxford, that—" The grand highway-
man and committe-creditor, Captain Hind, (brother to the un-
paralleled James Hind, in Newgate) hath made an escape out of
the castle gaol." It seems he had, by some means, been sup-
plied with a pistol, and enabled to free himself at pleasure from

1838.] Recoriis oj Olden Outlaws. 861

his fetters. About ten o*clock at nigiit, " one of the keepers
(according to his usual custom) came to play at the game calPd
cribbage." Whilst at cards, Hind shot the unsuspecting turn-
key to the heart, seized his keys, and fled. 'Ine murdered
man's name was Bush, and the news-writing prototy|)e of our
modern " penny-a-liners," s|>ortively concludes by saying, that
when the prison officials came to seek their missing companion,
they " found the Bitfih, but the bird was flown."

There is a memoir of James Hind, in the " authentic" Lives
of 1834, rich in deeds of daring totally unnoticed by his early
chroniclers. That, however, is easily accounted for, since the
publication of such very peculiar pieces of secret history, at any
period previous to the liesto ration, would have consigned the
printer to the pillory, and his work to the flames. According
to the cavalier captain's later historians, he gathered most
bountiful benevolences from some of the brightest beacons among
the shining lights of t!»e land. The famous clerical campaigner,
Hugh Peters, contributed " thirty broad pieces of gold." Brad-
shaw, the president at the king's trial, yielded " a purse full of Jaco-
buses;" and the renowned Colonel Harrison, "more than £70."
Nay, Hind, accompanied only by his friend Allen, attacked
Oliver Cromwell in his coach, on the road from Huntingdon to
London, and guarded by seven troopers. But, as usual, Noll's
star was in the ascendant; Allen was apprehended, but his
intrepid comrade escaped ! By the clerks of St. Nicholas, but
the captain " Bangs Banagher !" In April 1652, Samuel
Chidley, a well-meaning fanatic, published " A Cry against a
crying sinne: or a just complaint to the Magistrates against
them who have broken the statute laws of God, by killing of
men merely for theft," &c. The Cry contains addresses to the
Lord Mayor and Common Council, petitions to the Councils of
State and of the Army, and a letter, previously sent to the
Judges at the sessions in December. 1 hroughout his papers,
Chidley argued from Scriptural authorities, that " it is murther
by the law of God to kill a man merely for stealing, when the
Lord saith he should make full restitution, and if lie hath no-
thing, he shall be sold (not killed) for his theft." To the objec-
tions that might be urged against the system of restitution, as a
criminal's insolvency, &c., he replied by proposing that they
should " be set to worke in our owne country, by land or water,'*
until the required satisfaction was made, and he that would not
work must not eat; then " if he will perish, let him perish, his
owne blood is upon his owne head, and the Commonwealth is
discharged of it." The author personally owned and justified
his letter to the Bench in open court, but of course without any

VOL. IV. — NO. viii. 2 B

362 Records of Olden Outlaws, [April,

success. Chidley's singular tract bears characteristic marks of
the feverish enthusiasm so common during that unhappy era of
general disunion, when each visionary self-elected apostle of
change interpreted the Scriptures to suit his own novel code of
political, moral, or reliffious practice, and, with morbid courage,
often devoted himself to dare, to do, and suffer, at the prompt-
ings of spiritual pride, concealed in the guise of conscience.

The book itself is printed entirely with red ink, except an
added postscript on the last leaf, where the letters are black,
and the type enclosed within a broad mourning border. There
could scarcely be a reasonable hope of any amelioration in the
sanguinary laws relative to robbery, at a period when the offence
was carried to an extent only possible in a country where the
civil power was partially paralyzed, and intestine warfare left to
the defeated party the single alternative of " rob or starve." We
should now smile in utter incredulity, whilst comfortably sipping
our coffee over " Tlie Herald of the morn," at a provincial
article, stating, from Bristol, the apprehension of two Majors,
late of the royal army, a gentleman, previously known as a master
of arts in the University of Oxford, with seven other males, and
one female, on abundant proofs of robbery and coining ! The
names of all the prisoners, and particulars of their captures, are
given in full, by the licensed " Brief relation," and the catalogue
of the prizes made by them, within a year and a half, on the
Bath and Bristol roads, in money and plate, amounts to a sum
almost beyond belief. " The carriers, many of them, set this
money for them, that is, discovered the money, and took a share.
White of Bristole is in Newgate upon that, and the false money
he put off, and was taken on him. Several innkeepers, also, to
whom they resort, who are bound over to the assizes."

The land must have literally swarmed with highwaymen,
when, in the course of one week, fifteen were committed to
Bedford gaol alone ; and, in various parts of the country, rob-
beries and burglaries were so numerous, " that many persons do
leave their houses and come to London daily, — the robbers
appearing in such strength, there is no opposition to be given.
Sometimes fifty or sixty or them in armes together upon a robbery."

Even the protection afforded by London proved, in some cases,
very unsatisfactory in its results. Imagine, " at this ignorant
present," a party of disbanded troopers, personating autnorized
guardians of the peace, and patrolling the roads about Clerkeu-
well, " because the times were dangerous, and many knaves
abroad;" and, under that pretence, easing the twilight way-
farers whom they encountered, of their cloaks and money,
and, " faining a place where, in the morning, they should in-

I

1838.] Records of allien Outlaws. 868

auire for them ; but as yet the constable's house could never be
found." So out of joint was tlie time, that even some of the
parliamentary officers, when pushed by poverty, were found
very lax in their observance of the eighth commandment.
Among eleven criminals who suffered at Tyburn on the 27tli
February 1650, were two captains, Wright and Haynes. —
*• Haynes, at the gallows, desired all people to put no trust nor
confidence in any of them at Westminster, for their often pro-
mises, and failing of their words concerning his arrears, had
brought him to that death."

Tliere is an historical incident connected with our subject, and
belonging to the life and times of Charles I, that, though here
out of cnronological order, well deserves preservation, since it
throws a favourable light on the domestic character of that ill-
fated prince, and in some degree confirms the assertion of
Clarendon, that he was " the best of masters," and naturally
humane. During his negotiations with the parliamentary com-
missioners at Newport, when ap[)earances fairly promised to
reseat him on the tnrone, the king humbled himseH so far as to
write to the Sheriffs of London in favour of two young men, who
were then lying under sentence of death, for robbery, in New-
l^te. These youths were the sons of one Arthur Knight, whom
Charles terms "our servant and haberdasher." Yet, as if
anxious not to provoke ill-will, by arrogating any power to par-
don them in his own person, he leaves their final fate to future
consideration, and writes : — " We have thought fit to pray you
to use your best endeavours to procure for them a reprieve from
execution ;" farther, requesting that bail might be taken for their
appearance, until it was determined whether full mercy might
be shown, as their father trusted they could be reclaimed. '1 liis
royal, but, for royalty most lowly, supplication, was presented by
the Sheriffs to the House of Connnons. And what was the
reply of his majesty's " faithful and devoted Commons" ? Why,
those gracious viceroys over the king " ordered that the said
prisoners be left to the justice of the law." 'Twas a fatal omen.
Little more than four months afterwards, the rejected interces-
sor bowed his own, as he himself termed it, " grey and dis-
crowned head," to the fell destroyer, from whom he vainly
sought to save his servant's sons. Turning from the First to the
Second Charles ; from him who, at least in the presence of death,
showed himself " every inch a king," to his far less estimable
and exiled heir, we find the prince's mendicant regality placed
in such ludicrous juxtaposition with the loyal friendship of a
partizan cutpurse, as almost to justify the punning proposition,
that "majesty, deprived of its externals, is but ajettt /" On the

2b2

864 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

8th of August 1655, The Mercnrius FumtffosvSj in consequence
of " A false report having been lately raised by the Grub Street
books," published the following magnanimous manifesto from a
certain Richard Haunam, then lying in Newgate : —

" Be it known to the world : whereas there is an aspersion thrown
on me, of robbing the King of Scots of his plate al Cullen (Cologne) :
I can make it appear, by a hundred witnesses, that I was at Rotterdam
(which is above 200 miles asunder) when the king lost his plate, and
when he had it againe: — the whole court that knows me, I am certaine,
are very sensible, that I had rather give him plate than take any from
him : — and if it pleaseth God to spare my life, I question not to have
the king's letter to clear my innocency in the robbing of hb ma-
jesty. "

Mercurifs introduction, by the bye, proves how early the
literary reputation of Grub Street was established. The King
of Scots and his court must have felt very grateful to their old
acquaintance for his familiar appeal to their sympathies.

The popularity of the writer, Richard Haunam, as a highway-
man and burglar, appears from the records of the press, to have
been second only to the celebrity of Hind, of whose brave
"knot" he was reported to be the last solitary fragment. At
the date of his declaration, he was under sentence of death, but
had been reprieved, to afford the French ambassador an oppor-
tunity of interrogating him. His excellency's diplomatic privi-
leges not having secured his mansion from an extrajudicial
domiciliary visit, very profitable to the " Free Knights," among
whom rumour ranked Haunam. He subsequently broke prison,
and remained some time at large ; but, being retaken, was at
length executed in Smithfield, on the 17th of June 1656, when,
as stated by the author of TJie Witty Rogue, published in the
same month, he stood stoutly to his text ; " denyed that he
robb'd the King of Scots ; and said he would rather have parted
with a thousand pounds than have been so asperst !" Then —
" with a jumpe from the ladder, as the epilogue of his exploits,
we leave him taking his last swing.

" Thus, courteous reader, you have had his imprimis,
His items, totals, and at last his

FINIS."

From Haunam's ^nis we may date the gradual decline of
" taking away by force," on patriotic or chivalric principles, and
the consequent decay of the profession in its intrinsic qualities
and gallant bearing ; though, after the Restoration, when the
old Ins became Outs, and were forced to take their turn on the
road, we find that they rivalled, in their mortal exits, the courage

1838.] Records of Olden Outlaw*. 865

of their cavalier predecessors, and, like immortal Carear, died
"with decency." At Bath, in September 1664, seven men,
who had all formerly home arms against the king, "suffered
with so great a resolution and contempt of death, that there was
nothing wanting but rebellion to have made them pass for
martyrs." — " One of them advised the |)eople to make good use
of his example, and to be ruled by their wives, for if he had
hearkned to his, he had never come to that end. But as to that
poynt the company was divided."

Approaching the close of our highway journey, before we
enter on our last stage, and pass the point where we lose the
romantic Vicaro in the ordinary thief, we have an act of justice to
perform to the memory of a much wronged knight of the road, from
whose tomb the monumental wreath of fame has been abstracted, and
employed to adorn a most unworthy brow. The talented author
of Rookwood will, no doubt, be surprised when he learns, that,
though guiltless of robbing the dead, he is an unconscious
accessory to the fact; for, by freshly gracing with all due honours
the unparalleled equestrian achievement, commonly, but errone-
ously, terme<l Turpin's Ride to York, he has not only made his
popular work a receptacle of stolen goods, but, by the |)olish he
has bestowed on the purchase, rendered it niore saleable than
ever. Without farther preface, to the proof. Let the author of
A Tour in Circuits through Entjland, published in 1724, s|)eak
for himself.

" From Grave«end, we see nothing remarkable on the road hut Gad's-
Hill, a noted place for robbing of seamen, after tiiey have received
their pay at Chatham. Here it was that famous robbery wa:} committed
in the year 1676, or thereabouts. It was about four o'clock in the
morning, when a gentleman was robbed by one Nicks, on a bay mare,
just on the declining part of the hill, on the westrrn side; for he swore
to the spot and to the man. Mr. Nicks, who robb'd him, came away
to Gravesend, immediately ferry 'd over, and, as he said, was stop'd by
the difficulty of the boat and of the passage near an hour, which was
a great discouragement to him, but was a kind of bait to his horse.
From thence he rode across the county of Essex, thro' Tilbury, Horn-
den, and Billericay, to Chelmsford. Here he stopp'd about half an
hour to refresh his horse, and gave him some balls. From thence to
Braintree, Bocking, Wetherstield ; then over the Downs to Cambridge,
— and from thence, keeping still the cross roads, he went by FtMiny
Staunton to Godmanchestcr and Huntington, where he baited himself
and his mare about an hour, and, as he said himself, slept about half
an hour: then holding on the north road, and keeping a full large
gallop most of the way, he came to York the same afternoon ; put olf
Itis boots and riding clothes, and went dressed, as if he had been an
inhabitant of the place, and not a tiaveller, to the Bon ling Green,

366 RecQi'ds of Olden OutUitDS. [-April,

where, among other gentlemen, was the Lord Mayor of the city: — he,
singling out his Lordship, studied to do something particular that the
Mayor might remember him by ; and accordingly lays some odd belt
with him concerning the bowls then running, which should cause the
Mayor to remember it the more particularly ; and then takes occasion
to ask his Lordship what o'clock it was : who, pulling out his watch,
told him the hour, which was a quarter before or a quarter after eight
at night. Upon a prosecution which happened afterwards for this
robber}', the whole merit of the case turned upon this single point. The
person robb'd swore, as above, to the man, to the place, and to the time,
in which the fact was committed. Nicks, the prisoner, denied the fact;
call'd several persons to his reputation ; alleged that he was as far off as
Yorkshire at that time ; and that, particularly, the day whereon the
prosecutor swore he was robb'd, he was at bowles on the publick green
in the city of York : and to support this, he produced the Lord Mayor
of York to testify that he was so ; and that he the Mayor acted so and
so with him there as above. This was so positive and so well attested,
that the jury acquitted him, on a bare supposition, that it was impos-
sible the man could be at two places so remote on one and the same
day. There are more particulars related of this story, such as I do
not take upon me to affirm ; namely, that King Charles the 2nd pre-
vailed on him, on assurance of pardon, to confess the truth to him
privately ; and that he own'd to his Majesty that he committed the rob-
bery, and how he rode the journey after it ; and that upon this the King
gave him the name or title of Swift Nicks, instead of Nicks : — but
these things, I say, I do not relate as certain."

Whether Charles conferred the title of Swift on Mr. Nicks,
we cannot take upon us to decide; but most assuredly, his ma-
jesty's ministers so designated him in a proclamation of December
1668, offering a reward of £20 on each worthy's conviction
whose name appeared therein. A similar compliment was paid
to him in the London Gazette of the 1 8th November 1669,
among other highwaymen and burglars, " notoriously known to
be such, and of one party and knot." Fifteen are named; —
" Lewis, alias Lodowick, alias Cloud de Val, alias Brown,"
heading the list, and followed by " Swift Nix, alias Clerk."
Turpin was executed at York on the 7th of April 1739. The
account of his trial and death, published there at the time, gives
his alleged confession, mentioning various robberies, &c., but with-
out any allusion whatever to the adventure in question. By the
inscription placed on his coffin, Turpin was then but eight and
twennr years old. Having, we trust, incontestably restored to
the rightful owner, and his bay mare, that garland of bays,
which our pages will henceforth preserve as the unalienable pro-
perty of Swift NiXi we shall no longer linger over the reminis-
cences of departed glory, but bring our " travel's history" to an

f

I

1888.] ReeortU of Olden Outlaws. 867

end. As early as the very commencement of Queen' Anne's
reign, we find from The I^ndon Spy^ that the race of highway-
men was rapidly d^enerating ; for Ward accuses the Captain,
whom he describes, of " having drawn in twenty of his associates
to be hanged, but had always wit and money enough to save
his own neck from the halter." Still retaining the hereditary
family marks, the captain represents himself as a disbanded
officer, and is allowed to be "as resolute a fellow as ever cocked
pistol on the road," — " fears no man in the world but the hang-
man, and dreads no death but choaking." He appears, also, to
be admitted, without any scruple, into society, where his boon
companions, though mostly dissolute, and all aware of his true
trade, are not otherwise connected with the " highway lawyer's"
mode of raising the wind. So late as the comedies ot Farquhar,
two of the fraternity's traditional traits are alluded to: — "Do
you come to rob me .''" cries Mrs. Sullen. " Hob you !" replies
Captain Gibbet; " Alack-a-day, madam, I'm only a younger
brother." In the other instance, where the bravos are debating
the fate of Mirabel, The Inconstant, their leader votes for de-
spatching him, because, " I wonder at the assurance of English
rogues, that will hazard the meeting a man at the bar whom they
have encountered on the road ! I havn't the confidence to look
a man in the face after I have done him an injury; therefore,
we'll nnirder him."

It is a fact, as honourable to the country as extraordinary in
itself, that the English highwaymen maintained their reputation
for humanity and good government, up to the last hour that
they could claim the slightest standing as a class. A foreigner,
whose remarks, in 1766, are published by Mr. Stuart in his
Collections, thus notices the singularity : — " The greatest eulogy
of this people, is the generosity of their miscreants, and the
tenderness, m general, of their highwaymen." Another travel-
ler, a German, about twenty years later, in some notices of
Italy, republished here in 1798, speaking of a famous bandit,
named Cavallante, says, — " Even Cartouche was not a greater
man in his wav than he, but likewise no English highwayman
could, on occasion, show more generosity, or even magnanimity."

But the most recent, and most curious, opinion on the subject,
(with a difference) is cited by Mr. Leitch Ritchie, in a note to
his Schinderhnnnes, from an official document, drawn up by two
French magistrates in 1810.

" No one is ignorant, that in England — an island in which the
highest civilization conjoins with the darkest barbarism — the profession
of highwayman is exercised almost as publicly and securely as any other.
If it ts not always attended by bloodshed, the reason iit, that traveller^

368 Records of Olden Outlaws. [April,

for want of legal protection, enter cheerfully into a composition with
the ruffians."

For the credit of our olden national renown, we cannot but
echo Mr. Ritchie's " Alas ! we know nothing of such matters in
England," — and are fain to console ourselves with the worthy
Baillie of Kippletringan's truism, that such is the mutability of
human affairs. Tlie site of Troy is uncertain, the birth-place of
Homer unknown, and a lonely willow waves over the dust of
Napoleon : — Napoleon, the most wondrous taker away by force
whom the sun has shone on since the days of Alexander. And
we perfectly agree with Beaumont and Fletcher, that

" Alexander,

Though styled a conqueror, was a proud thiefe.
Though he robb'd with an army."

Art. IV. — Glance at the Institution far the Propagation of the

Faith. London. 1837.
TTTE have long been of opinion that nations, as well as indivi-
* ▼ duals, cannot too soon place themselves in that state which
St. Paul cites our Saviour as having declared the happier one,
*' It is a more blessed thing to give than to receive." {Acts xx.
35.) It is a proud consideration for any Catholic people to feel
it in their power to help their brethren in greater distress than
themselves, and find that best of all traffics at their disposal,
where the acceptable prayers of a suffering Church, or the fervent
gratitude of new Christians, is given in exchange for contributions
of worldly substance. The little work before us is, we trust, the
precursor of that state for us ; it will show British Catholics how
it is in their power to gain possession of those blessings which the
highest order of charity can alone draw down. It is a translation
of a French Tract put forth by the Association at Lyons for aid-
ingForeign Missions.

This Association, which has already been extended over all
France, Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, and many coun-
tries in the East, is truly catholic in its objects. It makes no
distinction of the countries to which missions or missionaries be-
long. No one applies to it in vain ;* and during the last y^ar, a
very large proportion of its funds were bestowed on bishops and
missions in English dependencies. Under these cirijumstances,
it seems fully justified in putting it to our sense of justice and of
national honour, whether we should not make some exertions in
our own islands, towards supporting so excellent an institution.

• See infra, notice of Dr. Ullathome's pamphlet.

1838.] Catholic Misnom, 369

We might urge in favour of the appeal, many considerations con-
nected witli those that we have just suggested. We might ask
whether it becomes us, a growing and prospering body, to leave
the support of our brethren, united to us by closer ties, to other
nations .'' Or we might appeal to those better feelings that bind
a parent establishment to its filiations, and show how incomplete
our work would be, if, after having supplied distant countries
with bishops and priests, we did not back and support them in
their meritorious labours, by affording them subsequent assist-
ance?

Such motives as these, however, would be not only foreign,
but opposed to our desires. If the good Catholics of the conti-
nent nave kindly taken care of our colonies, while circumstances
prevented us from doing so, it would be a poor imitation of such
a good example, and a very sullen piece of gratitude, to confine
our charity to those who have such special connexion with us.
It would be a selfishness that would painfully contrast with the
Catholic spirit that has animated others. Even above the benefit
resulting from the contribution of our money to Churches in
danger of perishing from want of it, we place the great develope-
ment of the Catholic spirit which it must produce among us. It
is time for us to shake off the dust of past ages, and to cease con-
sidering ourselves as a persecuted or an ill-treated class. Thank
God, we are beyond the malice of man. It is time to consider
not only the Irish, but even the English and Scotch Catholic
Churches, as integral and important portions of the universal
Church, known and received as such by the most distant commu-
nities that enter into its pale. We wish the martyrs and con-
fessors of Tonkin to have our names upon their lips, as well as
that of their French brethren. We wish to learn that our breth-
ren just emerged from barbarism and idolatry in the island-reefs
of the Pacific, pray for us as well as for the nation which has been
God's instrument in their conversion. It is time to claim our
rights to every spiritual advantage that members of the great
universal Church can possess, and of these we know few greater
than the entire communion of charitable offices over all the world.
We should consequently object to any narrow plan of association,
which limited our attention to British possessions or dependencies.
However careful we might be to give them their full share in
the charitable exertions of their parent country, we would ear-
nestly recommend and entreat, that whatever is undertaken be
upon the most catholic basis, and upon this account, in perfect
harmony and good understanding with the Lyons' Association.

It is not our intention to enter into any details concerning this
excellent institution, and its manifold advantages, i)artly because

370 Catholic Missions. [April,

such minute matters might as yet be premature, partly because
we trust tlie little Essay before us will be circulated far and wide
by the zeal of the clergy as well as of the laity. We know that
the first appeal will be met by an outcry about our wants at home.
God knows that they are great ; and we would coin our heart's
blood to remedy them. But let us modestly offer a few remarks
in answer to this plea.

First, then, we would dutifully remind our brethren, that the
first principle of gospel prudence in matters of gain, is, " Date
et dabitur vobis. Give and it shall be given unto you." If we
are in poverty, our brethren in Christ Jesus are starving. If we
yet want churches and cathedrals, they want a straw roof over
their altars. If we want more clergy, they would be often con-
tent with a catechist. If we want places of education, they would
be grateful for means to acquire the first elements of religious
knowledge. We begin to complain if we have a few miles to go
for the comforts of religion. Lakes, forests, chains of mountains,
and entire provinces, separate their pastors from large portions of
their flocks. With such frightful disproportion between our
wants and those of large communities professing our holy religion,
have we not already a right to the privilege of being generous ;
nay, has not Divine Providence opened to us a way of supplying
our remaining wants, by giving, out of our little, something to
those that have so much less ?

Secondly, We will take the liberty of asking, do we flatter our-
selves that a time will come when we shall say, " now we want
nothing more at home, let us begin to help others abroad?"
Does not that selfish charity which begins at home, always end
at home? And shall we ever think or allow that enough has
been done where our interest invites us to assist ? Wants, after
all, are relative. Thirty years ago we should have fixed the con-
ditions of our contentment at what we have now, and perhaps
lower. We should have said, " Let us have a spacious and flou-
rishing seminary in each district ; let us have schools attached to
all our chapels ; let there be a church in every town where there
are Catholics, and larger ones in our principal cities, and then
we may feel it our duty to assist others." Now that all this and
much more has been done, we can quote a thousand new wants,
which appear as important as those did then. And depend upon
it, whatever term we may now fix upon as that of our just desires,
— for most just we own them to be, — when it has been attained,
the principle will be as active as ever, and propose a farther
delay, till new wants have been satisfied. And in the meantime
immense good will have been neglected, and perhaps frightful
evils not prevented, which a timely assistance would have averted.

f

1838.] Catholic Missions. 371

Thirdly^ We do not believe that the opening of this new con-
tribution would unfavourably affect a single charitable or religious
institution now amongst us. The halfpenny a-week which any
one will contribute, will not, we are sure, be withdrawn from
any other good work. There are thousands who do not give this
additional trifle to their yearly charities, because they do not
think that such a mite could be of use to any one. No one either
thinks of asking them for it. But when so magnificent a work
is proposed to tnem to be performed entirely by the multitude of
such insignificant sums, when some one is found to remind them
and ask tnem for it, who will grudge it, that has sufficient means
of support? and who, if he give it, will subtract an equivalent
from his other subscriptions ? New forms of charity are always
fresh incentives to its practice; and many will be found to con-
tribute something beyond their usual proportion for an object
which interests tneir religious feelings m a vivid manner, when
otherwise they would be content with what they have ordinarily
jjerformed. Our conviction is, that besides the divine blessing,
which will be drawn upon ourselves by this work of catholic
charity, the new impulse which that cfivine virtue will receive
from it, will act with advantage upon our own languishing contri«
butions.

Such are a few of the remarks which might be made in answer
to the fear that our own countries will suffer by sharing our
worldly means with our distressed brethren in distant (luarters of
the globe. We most respectfully but most energetically recom-
mend them to the consideration of our pastors and brethren, in
whose good feelings and virtuous bosoms they will produce more
fruit than our weak advocacy could give them. When we were
in distress, religion was preserved among us through the charity
of foreigners, if France, Spain, and Italy, had not provided
asylums for our clergy, and fiirnished them the means of edu-
cating their successors, God knows how much Catholicity there
woulu have remained in these realms. We may now requite on
other parts of his Church the benefits we received. If with us his
ark again reposes beneath roofs of cedar, let us never forget that
the same precious deposit, wherein he himself rests, is yet m many
countries not even sheltered bv skins from the dews of heaven.

To interest our readers in this holy work, it was our desire to
place before them the latest intelligence from different missions,
some most distressing yet consoling, as where persecution yet
rages, — some most delightful to the Catholic heart. We should
have been able, for these purposes, to draw largely on inedited
sources at our command. But upon mature consideration, we
prefer giving fuller details of a transaction more interesting to us

372 Catholic Missians. [April,

at home. We mean to Jay before the public some documents
connected with the violent, intolerant, and tyrannical proceedings
of the Methodist usurpation at Tahiti, or Otaheiti, in opposition
to the establishment of a Catholic mission there. We must, how-
ever, premise some account of the mission in the Gambier Islands,
not far distant from it, as from this the other sprung.

In the spring of 1834, three French clergymen arrived at Val-
paraiso, destined to serve the missions in Polynesia, under the
superintendence of a bishop, vicar-apostolic, who was to follow.
After a most cordial reception, and every assistance which a vene-
rable and saintly religious Father, Andrew Caro, could afford
them, it was resolved that two should proceed to the Gambier
Islands, situated between the main and Tahiti, while the third,
M. Liausu, should remain at Valparaiso, to keep up a communi-
cation between them and home. The two missionaries, MM.
Laval and Caret, accompanied by brother Columbanus Murphy,
embarked onboard the Peruana^ Captain Morue, on the 16th of
July. On the 7th of August they reached their destination.
This group of islands consists of four, of small size, and contain-
ing about 2000 inhabitants. They are called Mangareva, Akar-
maru, Akena, and Taravai. The natives are completely uncivil-
ized, and behaved with great inhospitality to Captain Cook.
The missionaries landed at Mangareva, and were coldly repulsed
by the King Maputeo. After a second attempt, they retreated,
and found a miserable hut in Akena, the smallest of the islands,
where they took up their abode. They applied themselves dili-
gently to the study of the language, and to winning the good
graces of the poor natives, by rendering them every species of
service. The chief of the island particularly attached himself to
them, and went before all the rest in docility and anxiety to be
instructed. Gradually the missionaries acouired sufficient know-
ledge of the dialect of the country to explain the simpler doc-
trines of Christianity. The unity of God, and his goodness,
made a strong impression on heathens accustomed only to a
multiplicity of malicious divinities. The worship of the Catholic
Church made its natural impression, and the people soon learnt
the simple hymns composed by the missionaries for them. These
it was the delight of all, principally of the children, to sing. It
was these that principally became attached to the priests, and to
the Catholic doctrines. The resurrection of the dead, and the
immortality of the soul, were no sooner proposed, than they be-
came the engrossing topic of conversation throughout the islands.

The missionaries divided their time between Akena and Akar-
maru, living a week in each alternately. They occasionally
visited the other two islands, but the strong oppc/^ition of the

1838.] Catholic Mistion^. 378

king greatly impelled the progress of Christianity in them. The
people of Akarmaru were tlie first to make a solemn act of renun-
ciation of their idolatrous feelings. The hair is sacred to their
false gods, and it was considered a grievous sacrilege and sin to
cut it. Towards the end of December, the children and
youths requested the missionaries to cut off their hair, and throw
It into the fire. This ceremony was performed in public, and
the family of the chief all went through it. The children cried
out during it, " To the fire with Arnaino," the name of their
principal divinity. Each of these two islands soon built a spacious
chapel, after their own fashion, that is, composed of poles, covered
with leaves. The doctrine of the Trinity was explained with the
aid of the shamrock, after the example of St. Patrick, to whose
patronage the mission was si>ecially recommended.

About the month of March 1835, the ardour of the catechumens
for baptism could no longer be restrained. Even in Mangareva,
the faith had made considerable progress under the protection of
Matua, the high-priest, and uncle to the king. Even the king
had put himself, though hardly with a gooa grace, under in-
struction. Early in the month, the whole people assembled in
the great temple, and with the general approbation, the wooden
idols were cut down with a hatchet. The building was then
consecrated as a church : Idolatry was now at an end ; and
though the missionaries much desired to reserve the first-fruits of
their labours for the Bishop of Nilapolis, who was daily exj)ected,
they felt they should not be justified in withholding baptism from
a flock so ready and eager to receive it. They took down the
names of those best prepared, and while instructing them, a ves-
sel appeared in the aistance. It approached, — the bishop, with
three other clergymen, landed. A solemn procession was made,
a pontifical mass sung, and, after a triumphal passage from island
to island, the sacrament of regeneration was administered. This
was in May 1835.

Before passing to the affairs of Tahiti, we will finish the history
of this new Church. One of the missionaries, M. Caret, is now
in Europe. He has laid at the feet of his Holiness one of the
idols of the country, with a letter from King Gregory I, late
Maputeo. His Holiness sends back by him a magnificent pre-
sent, a silver representation of the blessed Virgin, with the child
Jesus, who is blessing the islands. A new costume, consisting of
cloaks, designed by the celebrated artist Cammuccini, has been
sent to all the chiefs. The population is entirely Catholic, with
the exception of some yet under instruction. M. Caret returns
with a reinforcement of labourers.

Between the arrival of the bishop, and the departure of M.

874 Catholic Missions. [April,

Caret for Europe, an attempt was made to open a mission in
Tahiti, where the Queen Pomare and all the chiefs are under
the absolute controul of Mr. Pritchard, the Methodist missionary.
MM. Caret and Laval embarked on board the Eliza, Captain
Hamilton, and arrived at the island on the 20th of November,
1836. Notice of their intentions had been previously received,
and a sharp look-out was kept to prevent their landinjr. Owing
to circumstances, this was effected on a little island, from which
Tahiti was gained. A message soon met them, commanding
them to re-embark ; but they insisted upon being conducted to
the Queen. On their way they met nothing but complaints of
the tyrannical conduct of the missionaries. On the 23d they
reached the residence of Mr. Moernhout, American consul, a
Belgian by birth, who, as subjects of a friendly state, took them
under his protection. Mr. Pritchard soon came to remonstrate
with the consul, who replied, that the strangers demanded an
audience of the Queen. This could not be refused them ; so that,
on the 25th (Friday), they were admitted to her presence.
Pritchard was at her side, to act as her interpreter, those of the
missionaries and the consul having been kept out of the way, or
forbidden to speak. The Methodist minister endeavoured to
engage the priests in a controversial discussion before the people,
where his acquaintance with the language would have given him
every advantage. But this they prudently declined. They made
the Queen a present of a shawl, and four annas, which he would
not allow her to receive. Even after she had accepted them in
spite of him, he snatched them from her hands, and sent them
back to the consul's. The missionaries returned the present, but
the Queen replied that the Sabbath having begun, she could not
receive money ! We may observe, that the Saturday is kept
there instead of Sunday, from no correction having been made
of the loss of a day in the circumnavigation of the missionaries.
Several chiefs took an opportunity to assure those Catholic mis-
sionaries, that neither the Queen nor any of them were hostile to
them, but that Piritati (Pritchard), the " wicked stranger," as
they called him, was implacable against them. On the Sunday
a great assembly was held, in which our missionaries were told
that the law forbade the landing of any strangers upon the island.
The American consul felt it his duty to reply, that such a law
did not exist, otherwise he, as agent of the United States, should
have been made acquainted with it. Turning to Mr. Pritchard,
he addressed him in English, and protested in the name of his
government against such a law, which had never been communi-
cated to it, nor to them. After the assembly, the orator who, as
judge, had ordered them to quit the island, came and begged

f

18S8.] Catholic Missions. S75

their pardon, saying he had only spoken what Pritohard liad
commanded him ; and several chiefs encouraged them to stand
firm, and not give way to his threats.

On the 29th, a letter was presented to the missionaries from
the Queen. We give it in the French translation attached to the
original Tahitian before us, as that translation was made upon
the island itself. It forms No. I of the documents which we give
togetlier, lower down. To this notice, rightly considered by them
an act of coercion, they thought it prudent not to reply in writ-
ing. They waited upon her Majesty, and in strong energetic
language, expressed their sentiments concerning Pritchard's con-
duct. Two magistrates brought them a present of food, but that
gentleman caught them in the fact, and delivered them over to
trial for a heinous offence. In the meantime, the Catholic Euro-
peans, settled in the island, drew up a protest, expressive also of
their claims to the spiritual aid of pastors of their own religion.
The inhabitants, many of whom had learnt that the name of" Pope"
applied to the missionaries, had been given to understand, that
it they allowed Catholic priests to settle on the island, the inha-
bitants would soon have to take refuge in the mountains, from
their rapacity and cruelty.

We will now let our documents speak for themselves. Copies
of all have been placed in our hands, collected on the island it-
self. As these were made by persons not very perfectly ac-
quainted with the English language, some inaccuracies of phrase
and orthography had been admitted. By correcting these, with
everj' attention to the sense, we shall not have impaired their
authenticity. The letters No. II-V, passed between the parties
concerned on the island. No. VI is the American consul's re-
port to the French consul at Valparaiso.

" Tahiti, Nov. 29, 1836.
1. — "Laval Salut 4 vous deux A votre entree dans mon royaame.
et Voici ma parole i vous deux. Ne restcz pas dans ma tcrre.
Caret. AUez-vous-en d voire terre de Mangareva. II y a des
missionaires dans ma terre ; nous aussi nous avons ete
instruits dans la parole, nous aussi nous connaissons la parole : Ija grace
a germe aussi dans mon royaume; ne soyez point mediants; n'ayez point
de pcnsees etrangeres ; vous ai-je fait du mal P Nod, vous connaissez mon
atUcliement et ma bienveillance pour vous deux ; je connais, aussi moi,
▼otre attachement et votre bienveillance pour moi. Ne pensez pas que
cette parole vienne d'un autre, non, cctte parole est de moi et de tous
les chefs; nous ne voulons pas que vous restiez dans cette terre.
" Saint i vous deux d votre depart,

" POMARE."

376 Catholic Missions. [April,

II. — Letter of Mr. Pritchard to Mr. Moernhout, American

Consul.

" J. A. Moernhout f Esq. (Official.)

" Papeeti. Paopai, Nov. 26lh, 1836.

" Sir, — lara requested by her Majesty to send to you an English
copy of the port regulations, and to beg your attention to the 4th regula-
tion. You will there see that it does not depend upon four ounces
whether foreigners shall be allowed to remain, but upon the pleasure of
the queen and governor. If the master and commander of a vessel get
permission of the queen and governor, a passenger may then remain, but
not without that permission, though they should give hundreds of dollars.
You will see that the 3rd regulation does not refer to passengers, but to
seamen turned on shore by the captain, i. e. no master or commander is
to discharge any seaman, or any other person belonging to his vessel,
such as first, second, or third mate, or any person in his employ, under
a penalty of £30. You well know, sir, that these three Frenchmen have
not come here as sailors, and been driven on shore by their captain.
You know that they have come as passengers, therefore it is the 4lh re-
gulation that will apply to them, and that only.

" You are well aware that the queen does not speak herself at any of
the meetings for business, hence it was that I had to deliver her senti-
ments, and make known to you and to the other gentlemen her pleasure.
As you would not condescend to hear me this morning, I now inform
you by letter, that the queen and governors will not allow these gentlemen
to remain, neither the priests nor the individual who is pleased to call
himself a carpenter. An English carpenter applied for permission to
remain only three days, but it was not granted. If the queen and gover-
nors have power to prevent an Englishman from settling on the island,
they most certainly have power to prevent Frenchmen, especially when
they believe that, for such persons to remain on the island, would be in-
jurious rather than beneficial. You yourself have acknowledged, that,
as there are other missionaries here, it will be productive of evil should
they remain. If you deny this, I can bring forward a pereon who heard
it from your lips. Even if the law would allow these or any other per-
sons to come at their pleasure, yet thus to come and to enter into other
men's labours, especially when those labours have been carried on for
forty years, is unchristianlike and ungentlemanly in the extreme, and all
who will support such proceedings must be as destitute of all gentle-
manly feelings as the persons they endeavour to support. Allow me to
ask you one question. Do you, or do you not, consider this an independ-
ant nation ? If independant. then they have a right to make laws for
the government of their own island. If they have a right to make a law
to prevent theft or any other vice, of course they have a right to make a
law to prevent such persons from settling on their island as they conceive
will only create disorder and confusion among them. In fact, if they
have a right to make one law, they have a right to make as many as they
consider necessary, so long as they do not interfere with the laws of na-
tions. I have lately received from the commodore on the Spanish coast,
documents respecting these very gentlemen coming to settle on Tahiti,

18S8.] Catholic MUsioni. 877

ill which he assures roe, that it is quite at Potnare's pleasure whether she
will receive ihein or nut. These g..Millemen have this day Uicilly acknow-
ledged, thai the (luecn can either receive or reject them at her pleasure.
If this were not the case, why go to the queen to ask her permission to
allow them to remain P Ifslic has not the right to prevent their remain-
ing, why go to ask permission ? A variety of reasons might be assigned
to show the impropriety of the present proceedings : the shuffling and
unmanly conduct of yourself and your friends this day, has been quite
sulFicient to shew what we may expect if such persons get a lirm footing
on the island.

*' I remain, sir, yours respectfully,

•' G. Pbitchard."

III. — Letter of the American Consul to the Quken.

" Pom a re,
" Quten of Tahili, Morea, b;c. Ifc. Tahiti, December Is/, 1836.

" I received yesterday a letter of the missionary Pritchard, marked
official, and announced as written in your majesty's name. That piece,
full of rough and insolent language, is not considered by roe as an official
document, nor as coming from your majesty.

" Enclosed in the same letter, the said missionary also remitted me a
copy of the port regulations, with regard to which I have to observe, that
as yet I was unacquainted with the said regulations, and that, as Ameri-
can consul, I cannot subscribe to the application of some of the articles,
till the lime be elapsed which is necessary to send them to the United
Stales' government, and to the American consuls at the difi'orent ports of
Souih America, the Sandwich Islands, &c. that masters of Aroerican
vessels may know them, and not expose themselves to losses and difficul-
ties. This is a custom everywhere, based upon justice, and admitted by
all nations. I also beg your majesty to inform me, in a document signed
by } our majesty, since I shall have to send it to the United Slates' govern-
ment, if the fourth article of the said regulations is a legislative act, a law
made and sanctioned by your majesty, and other competent persons, or
if it is a simple measure of caution, of foreign sacerdotal arbitrariness.
'I'his regulation, if it can be considered as sucn, will, I fear, be the cause
of many difficulties to this government, and cause great losses to roasters
of vessels of all nations. And as consul of the United States, I beg your
majesty's attention to the said article, of which, as I had the honour to
say before, I cannot admit the application till after the time which is neces-
sary to inform the government of the United Slates.

" With regard to the strangers, the French jn-iests, who lodge at my
house, I have no opinion to give in their case, farther than that they are
recommended to me, and are my guests, and that, belonging to a friendly
nation, I owe them protection. If, then, any measures are taken against
the said strangers, let it be by competent authorities, not by illegal foreign
arbitrariness, or persons guided oy their sectarian feelings. To this
neither they nor I shall voluntarily submit. Let the orders given with
regard to them, come from your majesty, and be signed by you. There-
from I shall be able to judge if the law of nations has been observed, and

VOL. IV.— NO. vm. 2 c

378 Catholic Missions. [April,

if these strangers have heen treated in the robnner that is expected and
required from and by all nations.

" Farther, as I have said above, I have no opinion in the case ; still if,
as a resident, a person without religious prejudices, and a friend to your
majesty, I had to give advice, I would say to your majesty, let the
'J'ahilian sovereign and the Tahitian inhabitants still be what they have
ever been when left to themselves, a hospitable, kind, and beloved people.
Jjet Tahiti still be the island of Wallis, Cook, and Bougainville, open to
all vessels, friendly to all nations ; and since she has always proved gene-
rous and tolerant when idolatrous and in astute of barbarity, don't suflfer
her to be changed by foreign arbitrary, and foreign anti-tolerant princi-
ples, and to become, now that she is Christian, and approaching to civi-
lization, inhospitable, cruel, and without tolerance.

" I will finish this letter by repeating to your majesty the words which
the author of the Voyage of the Potomac addressed to the missionaries of
the Sandwich Islands: ' Should missionaries of any other denomination
come to the island, go forth to meet them — extend the hand ere they
have touched the shore — bid them welcome; diflfcr they may in many
things, but what of that, the harvest is great, and the labourers ai'e few.
Let them live in peace.' "

IV. — Letter of Mr. Pritchard to Mr. Moernhout.

" Paopai, Dec. 3rd, 1836.

" Sir, — The letter which you addressed to her majesty Queen Poraare,
bearing date Nov. 27, has been forwarded to me to translate. As the
letter contains so much respecting myself, and as there is in it such an
evident attempt to degrade me and my missionaiy brethren, it is my duty
to make you a reply.

" Were it not that your weakness may lead you to think your paper
unanswerable, I would treat it with that silent contempt which it justly
merits. I will not comment on the ungentlemanly way in which you
make mention of my name, but will try to make you understand what is
meant by the word official. You will know that I hold a civil office
under this government, and all business transacted by this nation and
foreigners is transacted by me. It is enough for me to say, that I was
ordered by the queen to make you acquainted with her pleasure respect-
ing the Frenchmen lately nirived, and to direct your attention esj)ecially
to the 4th article of the port regulations. Hence ray communication to
you was official.

" You object to me as an official character in the Tahitian government.
I would ask you why you address your official communications to me
from time to time, when you want assistance from the Tahitian govern-
ment? Why send for me to your consulate when oaths are to be ad-
ministered, depositions to be taken, and examinations to be made ?

" In the first paragraph of your letter you say, ' that piece' (by which,
I suppose, you mean my letter to you,) ' full of rough and insolent lan-
guage, is not considered by me as an official document, nor as coming
from your majesty.' It is but of little importance what opinion you may
form of it. Your ideas respecting it will not alter its real character.

1888.] Catholic Mixshns. 879

With respect to its being full of rough and insolent language, I will
challenge any gentleman possessing common sense, and knowledge of
ilie English language, to prove that (hat piece is full of either rough or
insolent language. If I want a specimen of composition partaking of
such qualities, jf need go no farther in search of it than to vour own let-
ter, now before roe, which you had the audacity to address to her
majesty.

" You say, ' enclosed in the same letter, the said missionary al^io re-
mitted me a copy of the port regulations, with regard to which I have to
observe, that as yet I was unacquainted with the said regulations, and
that, as American consul, I cannot for some of the articles admit or sub-
scribe to their application, till after the time be elapsed which is neces-
sary to send the said regulations to the United States and the American
consuls of the ditlbrent ports of South America, the Sandwich Islands,
&c.' The only conclusion to which I can come from the above paragraph
is, that the port regulations contain some articles to which you cannot
subscribe, till a sufficient time has elapsed for you to send those regula-
tions to the United States, to the American consuls of the ports of South
America, Sandwich Islands, &c.

" As it is only a icw months since you were received by this govern-
ment as American consul, you cannot have forgotten what passed at that
meeting. Vou solemnly pledged yourself, in tlie presence of the queen,
chiefs and people, that you would resjiect their laws. You did not inti-
mate that, if they wished to enact a new law, or adopt a port regulation,
that the law or regulation must first be submitted to you, for you to send
to the United States, the coast of South America, the Sandwich Islands,
&c. to know if such a law or regulation would be approved or not. Can
any thing be more preposterous than to suppose, that before an inde-
pendent nation can enact a law, that law must be sent all over the world,
to tee whether the president of one place, and the consul of another, think
proper to agi'ec to such a law P Are the port-regulations in Boston,
New Bedford, or other ports in America, laid before the English consuls
of such places, to be forwarded to tlie Bntish ports, for their approval or
rejection P Are they sent to the consuls and tlie coast of South America,
the Sandwich Islands, &c. P

" You beg her majesty to inform you by letter or document signed by
lierself, ' whether the 4ih article of the said regulations is a legislative act,
a law made and sanctioned by her majesty and other competent persons,
or if it is a simple measure of foreign sacerdotal arbitrariness.' You
then express your fears that such regulations will cause many difficulties,
&c. The queen has told you plainly in a letter with her own signature,
that the 4th regulation has been adopted by herself and the governors.
On Monday evening you took upon yourself to assert in the face of a
great number of people, at the public meeting, that the law in question
was not a law of the government, nor of the people, but of the mis-
sionaries. This you will find it difficult to prove. For a man to assert
that a law which has been regularly canvassed by the people (whose
business it is to enact new laws or amend old ones) and adopted, after-
ward signed by her majesty and printed by the special order of govern-

2c2

380 Catholic Misaions, [April,

mcnt, is about as plausible as to assert that the moon is not the work of
the Divine hand, simply because she borrows her li^ht from the sun, or
that a law enacted by a legislative body can be no law at all, because
the subject of the law was first sug^jested by a member of that body.
Such a person must possess but a small portion of common sense or a
very lai-ge degree of assurance. With regard to the difficulties that may
arise from such a law, the government will run the risk of that. They
are not to be alarmed by a few vague threats that a ship of war will do
this, that, and the other. The captain of a ship of war would be too
well acquainted with his duty to attempt to force upon a free people that
which is repugnant to their feelings, destructive of their peace, ond con-
trary to their laws.

" After telling her majesty that you have no opinion to give respecting
the French priests, you in a very menacing tone dictate to her majesty
what measures must be taken in the business, and by whom the measures
must be taken. You request that orders may be given by her majesty
with her own signature. This the queen has endeavoured to do, but
the gentlemen now in question, if I may be allowed to call them so, are
just as obstinate now as they were before they received her majesty's
letter, saying that they will wait till a ship of war comes.

" You farther request that all measures taken against the strangers,
as you term them, may be taken by competent authoiities, and not by
illegal foreign arbitrariness, nor by persons guided by their sectarian
zeal. Were persons of every description of character allowed to come
and settle in a little island like this just at their pleasure, you would
soon see something like foreign illegal arbitrariness and sectarian zeal ;
you would not find things go on so smoothly as they have done. You
would soon be worked out root and branch. So inimical to you are the
feelings of the iov^: foreigners residing on shore, and of many of the
captains calling at this port, that they would willingly, if they had it in
their power, turn you ofl^ the island to-morrow.

" With respect to your expression, ' neither they nor I shall voluntarily
submit;' I would observe that the Tahitian government will not adopt
any illegal measures, but will enforce their own laws, whether they or
you submit voluntarily or not.

" After stating that you have no opinion to give, you represent your-
self as a person without religious prejudices and a friend to her majesty.
Had you said the very opposite to that you would have come much
nearer the truth. Were you without religious prejudices and a friend to
her majesty, you would not so violently oppose the pleasure of the
queen, and endeavour to force upon her and the people, pei-sons who,
according to your own confession, are likely to do more harm than
good. If we may judge by your conduct, we cannot help coming to the
conclusion that your prejudices in favour of popery run very high. If
this were not the case, why take so much trouble and use so much art
.ind cunning to establish popery in a little island like this, where you
know the whole of the people are now and have long been under in-
struction ? Having asserted that you are a person without i-eligious
])rejudices and a friend to her majesty, you take upon you to give her a

18S8.] Catholic Missions. 881

liulc sage advice. ' I u'oiiM my to your majesly let the Tuliilian
sorereign and the Tahilian iuImbiluiUs still be what ihvy ever have been
when left to tbeinselves, a hosj)ital)Ie, a kind, a beloved people. Let
Tahiti still be the island of Wallis, Cook, and Bougainville, ojien to all
vessels, friendly to all nations ; and since you proved generous and
lolerant when idolatrous and in a slate of baibarity, don't suffer it to be
changed by foreign anti-tolerant principles, and to become, when Christian
and approaching to civilization, inhospitable, cruel, and without tole-
rance. If 1 mistake not, what we are to understand by the above
language is this, that formerly, when the Tahitians were left to them-
selves, when they were idolatrous and in a state of barbarity, they were
a hospitable, kind, and beloved people, but in consequence of Pioteslant
missionaries labouring among them, there is a danger of their becoming
inhospitable, cruel, and without tolerance. You advise her majesty lo
let the island be open to all vessels and friendly to all nations. Such
advice might have oeen spared. You well know that this island is open
to all vessels, and that the Tahitians are on the most friendly terms with
all nations. There is nothing contrary to peace and unity lor the queen
and governoi-8 to reserve to themselves a discretionary power, and if you
will take the trouble to examine the 4th article, you will there see that
the door is not shut against all foreigners.

" In some instances the queen's governoi-s have granted permission, as
in the case of your own cousin ; and in other instances this permission
hos not been granted, as in the case of the Roman priests, because the
queen and governoi-s arc persuaded that such persons are not needed,
and for them to remain in a place like this, will prove injurious rather
than beneficial to the island. Hence it appears just and right to reserve
in the hands of the government a discretionary power. This you will
find is not peculiar to Tahiti alone, but a privilege enjoyed by civilized
nations generally.

" You finish your letter by repeating to her majesty the words of the
author of the ' Voyage of the Potomac,' addressed to the missionaries at
the Sandwich Islands. This gentleman appears to have formed his
sentiments on the language of Pope (not the Pope), who says, ' what-
ever is, is right.' While we admire his candour, we cannot help pitying
his weakness, and it is a question whether the author had the most
distant idea of taking Roman Catholic missionaries into the number of
denominations to which he refeired. For Roman Catholic and Pro-
testant missionaries to labour together in peace and harmony in a small
field like this or the Sandwich Islands, is just as likely as it is for light
to have fellowship with darkness, or Christ and Belial to dwell together
in concord.

" I remain. Sir, yours faithfully,

'• G. Pritchard."

V. — Letter of Mr. Muernbout to Mr. Pritchard.

" Papain, Dec. S, 1836.
" Sir, — I received on Saturday night your letter, a kind of pnmte
answer to the one I wrote to Queen Pomare, which is a thing rather

382 Catholic Missions. [April,

new and unusual. The said letter being also too long for a regular
answer, at least from me, who know but imperfectly your language, I
will refute but a few phrases.

" ' As there is in it such an evident attempt to degrade me and my
missionary brethren.' Belonging to a body, I spoke of you in a collective
manner. Still, to be candid, it was of you I intended to speak, but I
deny that I attempted to degrade you. Nevertheless, when a person of
your profession does not hesitate to insult, he has no more riglit than
any other person to expect much courtesy.

" ' You will know that I hold a civil office under this government.*
You yourself have told me so, and that, as you well say, only a civil
office.

" ' I was ordered by the queen to make you acquainted with her
])leasure respecting the Frenchmen.'

" Were you ordered to tell me that if I support priests of a denomi-
nation to which I belong, I was destitute of all gentlemanly feeling ?
Did she order you to push impudence so far as to tell me, in a letter
you call official, that because I engaged her to take a present from two
strangers, that my conduct was shuffling and unmanly ? And this low
and insulting language addressed to the Consul of the United States,
was it yours or that of her majesty ?

" ' Hence my communication to you was official.'

" I did not admit it as such, and" the United States government will
judge if, as their consul, I was right or wrong respecting it.

" 'Why do you address your official communications to me from
time to time ?'

" T never did. What I addressed to you was as to one of the judges
of this district — in no other capacity. 1 did the same to most of the
other judges, at least in a verbal manner, when I wanted their presence
or assistance ; but I do not give you or them the right to insult the
United States' consul in the queen's name.

" ' Full of wrong and impudent language.* I repeat the same, and
have since added, ' low and impudent language.'

" ' Your ideas respecting it will not alter its real character.* No, nor
your new insults justify it.

" • Which you had the audacity to address to her majesty, the Queen
of Tahiti.'

" For all that I address to her majesty I am accountable to the United
States government only ; but you, sir, as a missionary, you may also be
accountable for what you address to me, the United States consul, in
the name of her majesty.

" ' Pledged yourself,' &c., that you would respect their laws.' Yes,
their laws, not yours.

" ' That law must be sent all over the world.'

" Such a law has to be remitted to the ambassadors and consuls to
be sent to their respective governments, not to see whether they think
proper to agree to it, but to acquaint tliera with it, and if there is any
thing of great interest to foreign commerce, such as the prohibition of
goods, new duties, or exclusion of persons at the pleasure of some indi-

18S6.] Catholic MisJthns. 383

vidual, ta in your anti-social port regulations of Tahiti, then, sir, tho
custom is, thai it is put in vigour only after a time fixed, sufHcicnt to
avoid losses to the country where they arc made, as well as to the com-
merce of other countries.

" ' Because the subject of the law was first sugaested by a member of
that body.' The question is, if he who suggosleu said he is a member
of that body, if he can be a legal one, or if he will be considered so by
foreign governments; if it be proved that he belongs already to another
body which has particular views, principles, and interests of its own, and
whose statute, if I am well informed, strictly forbids any of its members
tu meddle in the politics of other countries, is it probable that in that
case other nations will consent to be prejudiced by his laws ? I doubt it.

" • The government will run the risk.' Yes, because the queen, advised
by you, does not know, and you do not care.

" 'The gentlemen now in question, if I may call them so.' Tliey do
not care wliat you call them. Tliey are Frenchmen.

" ' So inimical to you are the feelings of the foreigners residing on
shore.' There are many who I hope will never be my friends; still I
have done harm to none and good to many. I neither expect nor
require any gratitude — nor do I fear them.

" ' And enforce their own law.' I hope they will, but let it be their
own, not yours.

" ' As a person without religions prejudices.' I have none, and it is
in that respect I differ the most from you.

" • And friend to her majesty.' Yes, and a sincere friend who will give
her no selfish advice.

" ' You would not oppose the pleasure of the queen.' Not that of the
queen, but yours.

" • Use so much art and cunning to establish popery.' My art and
canning is to be hospitable to two strangers recommended to me, to have
firmness enough to brave your resentment and the ill-will of many
others, by protecting them against the most hateful intolerance. My art
is to lodge those »-no, without me, would have been without lodging —
to feed those who by your arbitrary and cruel orders had to be stopped
from landing — whom you intended to send back to sea without mercy
and without allowing them necessaries. Mv art is to have what you
have not — the toleration of a philosopher and the feelings of a Christian,
and to be merciful and humane without regard to profession or religious
opinions.

" * To give her a little sage advice.'

" I don't know if the advice be sage, but I believe it is prudent, and
it was given in a manner very different from that of many otliers, with
sincerity and without any views to self-interest.

" ' But in consequence of Protestant missionaries labouring among
them, there is danger of their becoming inhospitable, cruel, and without
tolerance.' Not in consequence of Protestant missionaries labouring
among them, but because some of the Protestant missionaries forget the
object of their mission, are merchants, meddle indiscriminately in every

384 Catholic Misaions. [April,

thing, religious, civil, or political, aim at the authority of the island,
would domineer, would tyrannize over every thing, over their own col-
leagues, over natives and over foreigners, over the laws themselves, by
audaciously constituting themselves legislators of a country where they
were sent to preach the Gospel, and who, as I said in a letter to the
queen, would, by introducing their intolerant principles, make the people
cruel, inhospitable, and without tolerance.

" * And that the inhabitants are on the most friendly terms with all
nations.' Yes, with the exception of the French, Sj)anish, and others
presented as Catholics, and of any others of such a rank as to be able to
contribute to the welfare of the island, by promoting commerce and
augmenting the intercourse of foreigners.

" ' You will then see th.it the door is not shut against all foreigners.'
No, against those only who differ in opinion from yourself, whose
interests may oppose yours, or still against some others, such as the
English carpenter, who, as in the present case, are necessary to make a
show of imj)arliality or to serve to cloak religious prejudices.

" ' Your own cousin.' My cousin is no resident, and will leave by
the first oj)portunity.

" 'Hence it appears just and right to reserve in the hands of the
government a discretionary power not against the law of nations.' Yes,
but not in the hands of a missionary.

" ' It is a question whether the author had the most distant idea of
taking the Roman Catholic missionaries into the number of denomi-
nations to which he referred.' It was of Roman Catholics he did speak.
" ' For Roman Catholic and Protestant missionaries to labour together
in peace and harmony in a small field like this, is just as likely as it is
for Christ and Belial to dwell together in concord.' This profession of
faith is worthy to be known.

" Here, sir, we will finish our correspondence upon this subject. After
this I will neither receive nor write any more letters with regard to the
French priests, since I have nothing to do with the object of their
voyage, no farther than that they were addressed and recommended to
me; otherwise, as I have already said, I have no opinion to give in the
case. I neither wish them to stay nor depart, but as long as they are
here, 1 will not, in order to conciliate other persons' opinions, other
persons' interests, go and act contrary to my own principles, contrary to
my own feelings of hospitality and of humanity. In my house they are
and are welcome, and will be so, as long as they are allowed to stop.
I owe them that much, out of consideration for the person who recom-
mended them to me. I owe it to the nation to which they belong ; and
exiled, persecuted as they are by you, I consider it my duty and becom-
ing the dignity of my office, being the only foreign consul in this island,
to protect them as I should protect any other person belonging to a
friendly nation, against violence, &c., and help them in every respect
whatsoever, except in the special object of their mission, or in any
other particular views of religious opinions, with which I have nothing
to do."

1838.] Catholic Mifsions. 385

VI. — Letter of Mr. Moermiout to the French Consul

in Valparaiso.

" Tahiti, Dec. 1, 1836.
" Monsieur, — Commc consul d'un gouverncmenl ct d'un people
ami de la France, dans uii pnys ou les Franv'ais n'ont pcrsonne pour
prolegor ni leurs personnos ni Icur droits, je crois pouvoir me pcrmellrc
de vous donncr qiielqucs details sin* cc qui s'est passe icialegard dc
quelqucs-uns de vos concitoyens. Les missionaires Anglais qui depuis
(lu'ils out reussi d ctablir ici luur religion, gouvement en quelque sorte
1 lie, ont toute fail par crainlc que la religion Calliolique ne s'introduisiu
Aussi puur rempecner se sunt-ils en tout temps niontres pcu favorables
aux individus qui professcraicnt cettc religion, et se sont dei-nicreraenl
declai'es ennemis surtout des Fran^ais et des Esnagnols, a qui ils cherchent
mcnie d'inlerdire le sejour de ces lies, et d'empechcr qu'ils aient lo
moindre commerce ni relation avec les habitans. Le premier effet de
cette intolerance tomba sur deux Franvais qui arriverent en cette ile il y
a environ un an, attaches a un avcnturier renegat Franyais, se disant
souverain de la Nouvelle Zelande. Cet individu porta des plaintcs
contre ces Franyais dcvant ces missionaires, ct entre autrcs les accusaieut
d'etre des Catholiques, et tout ridicule que doit naturellement paraitre
pareille charge, cc fut pourtnnt la seule admise, et qui fut cause qu'on
decida qu'il aurait ete dangercux de laisscr communiquer ces gens avec
les habitans, et il fut defendu a ces malheurcux qui vcnaicnt do fairc un
long voyage, et dont un etait maladect souflrant, de niettrc le pied a terre.
Le yecond fut un negociant Espagnol exile d'une des rcpubliques de
I'Amerique du Sud. II etait riclie et vint pour etablir une plantation
de Sucre en cette ile. A peine son arrivee ctait-elle connue, que les
missionaires s'agitaient aupres des aulorites de I'ilc, ou plutot agissant
de leur chef, s'opposaient u son debarqucment. Cependant le baliment
sur lequel il etait, allait en Amcrique, et ce ne fut que sur les repre-
hentations du capitaine et aprcs que le dit negociant avait remit comme
garantie entre les mains d'un missionaire environ 24,0<.X) piastres, qu'il
avait avec lui, et qu'il consentait a perdre s'il ne se rembarquait sur le
premier navire qui partirait pour le Chili, qu'on lui permit de venir k
terre. Mais Id il ne lui fut accorde que 100 piastres de son proprc
argent, dans la craintc qu'il ne seduisit les autorites et qu'il n'obtint la
permission de rester dans Tile.

" D'autres Franyais, d'autres etrangci*s,ont eprouve reflet de I'inimitie
ct de I'intolerance des missionaires Anglais, qui pour micux cacher cette
intolerance, ou plutot de crainte d'etre supplantes par d'autres mis-
sionaires, ou par Vin trod uction d'un autre culte, viennent de fairc une loi
ou il est dit; qu'aucun passager ne pourra debarquer ici sans le con*
sentement des missionaires.

" II y a deux jours qu'arriverent ici de Hie de Gambier, dans une
petite goelette de 12 a 15 tonncaux seulement.trois Franyais, dont deux
sont des prt-tres et I'autre un charpentier. La nouvelle de leur depart
de Gambier pour ici, fut connue avant leur an-ivee, et aussitot un des
missionaires Anglais, nomme Pritcbard, obtint, ou je dirai plutot, donna.

386 Catholic Missions. [April,

I'ordre de s'opposer d leur debarquement. Des gardes furent places
avcc ordre que si la dite goelette se presentait, de I'empecher de venir d
I'ancre, de la faire sortir du port, de defendre a tous ceux qui seraient d
bord de debarquer a"terre, ei d'empecher iiieme toute communication
entre les habitans ou residents, avec la dite goelette. Un hazard fit
toutefois manquer toutes ces precautions. Le vent contraire avait oblige
la goelette d'entrer dans un port au sud-est de I'ile, et de la ces trois
passagers vinrent a pied jusqu' ici, qui etant des Fran9ais, je les re9us
dans ma maison malgi'e I'opposition du missionaire et les ordres reiteres
qu'ils devaient se rembarquer tout de suite.

" Voila sept jours qu'ils sont avec moi dans une de mes demeures, et
qu'ils vivent avec moi. Je fus avec eux chez la reine — mais la se trouvait
aussi un des missionaires Anglais. Ces messieurs, les pretres Fran9ais,
lui firent un petit present qu'elle accepta sans opposition aucune, mais
quand ils vonlurent lui remettre chacun trois piastres, que la loi exige de
tout etranger qui veut rester ici, le missionaire Anglais s'y opposa, prit
un ton insolent et grossier a I'egard des etrangere et imperieux avec la
reine, puis qu'il osa lui defendre d'accepter cet argent; cependant ces
messieurs, au refus de la reine, lui offrirent la meme somme comme un
present, etalors elle accepta malgre le missionaire, et quoiqu'il se soit bien
donne des peines depuis et qu'il soit revenu souvent sur le meme sujet,
cet argent est reste entre les mains de la reine.

" Mais malgre ce present, les ordres n'en sont pas moins que ces
messieurs doivent quitter, meme le charpentier, et on veut qu'ils se
rembarquent dans la meme petite goelette qui les a amcnes, ce qui les
exposera non seulement a bien des souffrances, mais pourra mettre leur
vie en danger. Pour le reste, j'ignore jusqu'ou le missionaire Pritchard
osera pousser les choses, mais le certain est que s'ils n'avaient pas ete
dans ma maison et sous ma protection, on leur aurait fait violence et
force a bord depuis longtemps, probablement le meme jour de leur
arrivee ici; carle missionaire Pritcliard est sans pitie, il continue a tout
remuer pour les expulser, mais les Indiens et la reine meme craigncnt de
se compromettre. Toutefois j'ignore jusqu'ou il poussera les choses, puis-
qu'il na pas craint de faire juger les Indiens qui firent des presents de
fruits du pays aux Fran^ais. D'ailleurs, I'ordre de quitter existe toujours,
et quoique j'ai obtenu que deux malles fussent portees a terre, on leur
refuse aujourd'hui les choses qui sont encore a bord, et meme le linge.

" Voila, monsieur le consul, la situation de trois Fran9ais a Tahiti.
Je no crois pas, etant dans ma maison, qu'on osera userde violence avec
eux, cependant la haine fanatique du principal missionaire Anglais est
capable de tout, et est d'autant plus a craindre qu'il ne redoute rien plus
que de laisser gagner du temps aux Fran^ais. Quant d moi, indifferent
dans la querelle religieuse, je protegerai ces messieurs aussi longtemps
que je le puis, mais jc suis seul contre les missionaires et les nombreux
Anglais de basse classe qui resident ici : il serait done bien mieux qu'un
batiment de guerre Fran^ais put venir pour apprendre a ce peuple ce
qu'ils ignorent, par la fausse representation de leur guides spirituels,
que la France a Ic pouvoir de proleger, dans n'importe quel pays, et
qu'elle peut exiger que le droit des gens ne soit pas viole d leur egard."

1888.] Catholic MMtiom* 887

Tlieso docinncnts will establish Mr. Pritchard*s claims to the
mock snirit of the apostles. The conclusion of the transaction is
soon told.

On the 11th of December, a body of that man's agents came
to the missionaries* residence, which belonged to the consul, and
demanded that thedoor should beopened. This was refused. After
some hesitation, they unroofed it, and breaking open the doors,
took the two priests and their com^ianion by main force, and car-
ried them down to the beach. They put them into a boat, and
placed them on board the Eliza. The captain sailed with them,
threatening to put them on shore on some desert island. After
many hardships, they regained their friends in the Gambler
Islands.

After remaining here thirteen days, they again embarked in
the Colombo^ Captain Williams, for a second attempt. This was
13th January 1837. The two missionaries engaged in this ex-
pedition were MM. Maigret and Caret. We will not enter into
any particulars, farther than to state, that though the purpose of
tliese gentlemen was only to wait for a passage to \ alparaiso,
they were not allowed to land. Again they were repeatedly
visited not only by the good consul, but by several chiefs, who
threw all the blame ujwn Pritchard. They were informed that,
in the interval, an English vessel of war had been at Tahiti, and
that complaint had been made to the commanding officer of the
illiberal treatment of the missionaries. W^e need not observe, that
this man was reproved as he deserved. We present our readers
with the documents referring to this expedition.

LETTERS RESPECTING THE SECOND VOYAGE TO
TAHITI.

VII Letter of Queen Pomare to Monsig. Bishop of Nilopulis.

(Translation.)

•• 7ViAi7t, Xbre 12, 1836.

" Ami ct grand missionaire qui demeurc d Mangarcva. Salut i tot
dans Ic vrai Dicu.

" Je rcnvoye ccs deux hommcs k Mangnrcra: il nc mc plait pas du
tout qu'ils restcnt ici d Taliiti. Voici la parole que je t'addresse,
n'l-nvoye point ici a Tahiti Ics liommes qui sonl au-dcssous do toi. Si
tu cnvoyes tes homnies dans telle lerre je tc les renverrai. II y a ici
dans divers lieux de mon royaunie dcs missionaires qui cuseigneut la
vraic parole. Nous n'en cmbrasscrons point d'aiitre.

" Je te salue,

" Pomare."

9SB Catholic Missions. [April,

VIIT. — Letter of Mr. Pritchard to the Captain of the Colombo.

" Paofai, January 27, 1837.
" Sir, — The judges having heard that you have Roman Catholic
priests on board, have requested me to send to you a copy of the port
regulations, and beg your attention to the 4th article : having entered
their port, they expect you to respect their laws.

" Yours respectfully,

" G. Pritchrad, J. P."

IX. — Letter of the Queen to the Captain of the Colombo.

(Translation.)

" Papava, January 27, 1837.
" Captain, — Peace be wiih you from the Lord. You ask me * is it
not agreeable to you that I should land these two passenger ?' This is
what I have to say to you. I will not in any way agree to their being
landed. Let not any of their property on any account be brought on
shore. That is all 1 have to say.

" Peace be with you,

" Pom A RE."

X. — Letter of Mr. Pritchard to the Captain of the Colombo.

" Paofai, January 30, 1837.

" Sir, — I am requested by the queen and governors and chiefs to
send to you an extract from the * maritime laws of the United States,'
whicli is as follows : — ' Port laws and regulations should be carefully
observed. In almost every port there are certain laws for the govern-
ment of the shipping, which cannot be transgressed with impunity. A
master should, therefore, inform himself of these on his first arrival, and
be scrupulous in conforming himself to them during his stay : all the
damage which ensues in consequence of a breach of them will eventually
fall on him.'

" Should it be your pleasure to call upon me, I can show voh Lord
Edward Russell's decision respecting these Roman Catholic missionaries
coming to Tahiti; also the opinion of Commodore Mason, now in
Valparaiso.

" A French ship of war has lately been to the Sandwich Islands.
Captain Charlton, the consul, laid before the French captain a complaint
against the government of these islands, for sending away Roman
Catholic priests. The captain called on the king and enquired into the
business. When he found that they had long had Protestant mis-
sionaries residing among them, and that it was the opinion of the king that
if Roman Catholic missionaries were allowed to remain and teach their
doctrines, much evil would ensue, he told the king that he had done
perfectly right in sending them away : that it was quite at his own
pleasure who should be allowed to remain on his land.

" I remain, your's respectfully.

" G. Pritchard."

r

1838.] Catholic Musiom. 889

XI. — Letteu of the Queen and her Chiefs to the Captain of ihc
Co LOM BO . — (Translation. )

" Panava, January 30, 1837.

" Captain, — Peace be with you. The letter which you wrote has
come to hand. It has been read, and we understand its contents. This
is what we have to say to you : we will not in any way agi'ce to your
landing the two passengers. Do not be obstinate to put them on shore.
It is suitable that you should regard our laws, because you have now
anchored in our dominions. You enquire ' what am I to do with them ?
Must I take them to America or India?' We have nothing to say
respecting that ; it is entirely with yourself. You knew when you were
at (larobier, that the two men had been sent away from hence by us, on
board Hamilton's little schooner; hence you knew that it would not be
agreeable to us for you to bring them again to Tahiti ; but your obstinacy
and desire for money led you to agree to their wishes and bring them to
Tahiti.

" Should you go to India there are many ships there that can take
them to Valparaiso, the place to which they wish to go. We do not
know of any ship that is likely to call at Tahiti bound to that place.

" You say that when your vessel is ready for sea you will put the
two passengers and their property on shore. This is what we have to
say to you : do not by any means attempt to do so ; if you do, you will
see what steps we shall take. You also say, should we force these men
on board again we must pay von thirty dollars per day. This is what
we have to say to you : we will not by any means pay you anything;
no, not in any way whatever. That is all we have to say.

" Peace be with you.

" Pomare.

" Paofai Papai Parou.

" Tati.

" HiTOTI.

" Hapono.

" POROI.

" Wat A.
" Oneidu.
" Mure."

Xn. — Letter of Monsio. Maigret.

"Toutes vos raisons, MM. les Methodistes, en nous chassant de
Tahiti, peuvent se reduire a ces trois chefs. Vous nous ferwez I'entree de
cette He,

" 1. Parceque le peuple ne veut pas de nous.

'• 2. Parceque nous y allumerions la guerre.

" 3. Parceque ce n'est pas honn^te de venir ainsi sur les brisees des
aulres.

" Examinons vos raisons et voyons si elles son) bien fondees.

" Vous nous dites que le peuple de Tahiti ne veut pas de nous. Nous

390 Catholic Missions. [April,

savons tout le contraire ; nous I'avons vu ce peuple, uous lui avons paiie,
nous savons ce qu'il pense.

" ' Mais ils vous mentaient pour vous faire plaisir ? '

" S'ils mentaient a des gens de qui ils n'avaient rien a craindre, pourra-
t-on nous faire accroire qu'ils parlent sincerement a des personnes, qui les
condamnent tons les jours a ties araendes et a des travaux forces, qui les
depouillent de leurs biens, ct qui ne dominent sur eux que par terreur ?

" • D'ou vieut-il done que ce peuple vous a chasses ?'

" Parceque c'est un peuple enfant, d qui la crainte fait faire tout ce
qu'on veut, et je raets en fait que la reinc et les chefs signeraient aussi
facileraent leur arret de mort qu'ils ont signe notre expulsion.

" ' Mais supposons que le peuple ne veuille point de vous ?'

" Serait-ce une raison pour nous de ne jamais retourner d Tahiti ?
Les apolres et leurs successeurs attendaient-ils que les pcuples les vou-
lussent pour aller leur annoncer I'Evangile et les retirer de Terreur ?

" * Mais vous allumeriez la guerre.'

" Et comment, je vous prie, allumerions-nous la guerre ? Serait-ce
en prechant la souraission a la reine, I'amour niutuel, le pardon des
injures, et la chaiite en vers tous ? Vous u'ignorez pas que ce sont Id des
verites Catholiques.

" ' Mais vous condamneriez nos doctrines ?'

" Si vos doctrines sont vraies qu'avez- vous a craindre ? Ne serez-vous
pas la pour les defendre ? Croyez-vous bonnement que nous precherons
les notres, les armes a la main ? Craignez-vous que nous ne forcions le
peuple a quitter voire eglise pour venir nous entendre? Laissez le
libre comme nous le laisserons nous-m^me, et tout ira bien, et il n'y aura
point de guerre.

" ' Ma.s il s'engagera necessairementdes discussions entre vos neophytes
et les notres.'

" Et quel mal y aura-t-il d cela ? Ne discute-t-on pas tous les jours
en France, en Angleterre, en Amerique, sans que pour cela on se fasse la
guerre ? Et si dans les grands empires la paix pent etre maintenue
malgre les discussions, d plus forte raison, quoi qu'on en dise, dans une
petite lie comme Tahiti.

" ' Mais les naturels ne sauront pas garder de mesui*es.'

" Les liubitants de Tahiti sont naturellement pacifiques, et ils garderont
des mesures, si on leur apprend a en gaider et sourtout si on leur donne
I'exemple.

" ' Les votres n'en garderont pas.'

" Lt's notres en garderont tant qu'ils seront des notres, vous savczbien
qu'aux lies Sandwich ce ne sont pas les votres qui sont dans les fers.

" ' Mais pourquoi venir ainsi sur nos brisees.*

" Eh, MM. vous n'y pensez pas. Et que repondrait Luther, que
repondraient les Protestants, que repondriez-vous vous-memes, s'il
plaisait d nous autres Catholiques de retorquer I'argument ?

• " Avouez, MM., que ces raisons ne sont pas valables, et si vous voulez
justifier aux yeux des Catholiques, aux yeux des Protestants, aux yeux
de tous les peuples civilises, votre intolerance d notre egard, cherchez
d'aulres raisons. " L. D. Maigret,.

" Pref. Apostolique de TOceane Oriental."

1888.] Catholic Mitttions. S91

Xni. — Letter of Mr. Moernhout, American Consul at Tahiti,
to the French Commodore off Chili.

" Olaheili, 2 Fevrier, 1837.

" A Montiettr le Commandant de la Station Fran<;tiis au Chili.

" Monsieur le Commandant, — J'ai cu I'honneur d'ecrire deux foi«
d Monsieur le consul general de France au Chili, pour lui remcllre lea
details de I'expulsion de deux pr^tres Frangais de cetle lie. Mais dans
I'incertitude s 'il y a en ce moment un consul general de France au Chili,
je prends la liberte de vous addresser la presenle, afin de vous faii-e con-
naitre les nouvelles injustices et les insultes que les m^mes Fran9ais
viennent deprouvcr.

" ]1 vous est peut-('lre dejd connuc que deux prelres ou missionaircs
Franvais arriverent ici de I'ile do Gambier dans le mois de Novembre
dernier, el que malgre mcs efforts pour les soustraire aux persecutions et
aux violences, on les enleva de force d'une des mes demeures, pour les
jciter a burd d'une petite goelette. Cetle goelette, grande de 15 ou 16
tonnraux seulcraent, eut heureusemcnt un vent favorable, et arriva d
Gambier le premier Janvier.

" Depuis lors un bnck Americain, le Colombo, Cap. M. Williams,
port'?ur de la presenle, visila I'ile de Gambier, et comme le bdtiment devait
venir d Oiaheiie, n'ayant que d'aller d Manila, le lieu de sa destination,
I'Eveque de I'ile de Gambier, qui voulait envoyer deux de ses prelres d
Valparaiso, pensait que malgre les persecutions qu'ils avaient eprouvecs
avant, on n'anrait pas refuse de laisser passer par Olaheili, ces deux
Fran^ais porteurs ae passeports, et qui ne demandaient a y resler que
jusqu'a ce qu'il se presentcra une occasion pour poursuivre leur voyage
au Chili. 11 ne connaissait point encore, a ce qu'il parail, I'esprit per-
secuteur et la haine que portent aux Catholiqucs les missionaircs Anglais
ctublis ici. A peine sut-on I'an'ive des deux prelres Fran^ais, qu'il vint
un ordre par ecril par Icquel on leur defendait de metlre le pied a tcrre,
et malgre que j'offrais de garanlir, en maqualite de consul des Elals Unis,
que les prelres Franyais auraient quitle Olaheili des qu'il y aurait eu unc
occasion pour le Chili, la reiue influencee par les missionaircs Anglais
ri'fusait nniniatrement de les laisser debarquer; effectivement quand
I'embai'calion du brick Americain vint avec les deux passagers pour les
debarquer devanl ma demeure, des Indiens armes de gros batons et de
sabres coururent au-devant en se mettant dans I'eau jusqu'a la ceinture,
et ordonnerenta ceux qui etaient dans I'embarcation, en les mcnavani de
leurs amies, de relourner a bord immediatcment.

" J'ignore, Monsieur le Commandant, comment la France prendra
toutcs ces injustes persecutions, mais il est certain que si on ne punit
point ce gouverncment pour de parcils uulrnges, aucun Franyais ne pourra
resler dans ces iles, ni les balimenls Fran^ais ne visiteront ces lies sans
courir des dangers. J'ajouierai m^me avec franchise, car il y a des
▼erites nu'il est necessairc de faire connailre, ni les Fran<^ais, ni les
F<spagnoIs, qui sont a Olaheili ne pourraieni y resler, si je n'y eiais pas.
lis ont 6prouve millo vexations, et il est certain que les missionaircs
Anglais les auraient dejd fait chasser s'ils ne connaissaient mes sentiment*

392 Catholic Missions. [April,

ct s'ils nc savaient que je reclamerais contre eux en faveur de ceux qui
n'ont d'aulre torts que d'etre Catholiques.

" Le capilaine du batiment Ainericain n'ayant pn debarquer ses
passagers ici, s'est decide a chansfer de route et amencra lui-merae leg
pretres Franyais a Valparaiso. Vous pourrez done, Monsie'ir le Com-
mandant, apprendre de ccs messieurs memes les details des persecutions
qu'ils ont eprouve ici.

" J'ai riionneur d'etre,

" Monsieur le Commandant,
" Votre tres-humble,

" et tres-obeissant serviteur,

" J. MOKIINHOCJT,

" Consul des Etats-Unis a Otaheiti."
XIV.

" Valparaiso, le 6 Mai, 1 S37.
" Ne pouvant rien faire ici dans I'interet de nos missionaircs Fran^ais
qui ont ele mal recus ct traites avec taut de sauvagerie a Otabeili, d
I'instigation d'un nielhodiste intolerant, je leur donne, pour qu'ils puissent
la faire voir la ou die sera utile, la letlre que j'ai reyu a ce sujel du
consul Americain d Otabeiti.

" M. DUHOUT-LILLY,

" Capt. de fte. Conimt.
" par interim la Station de la Mer du Sud."

We should add, that, when the missionaries went to the shore
on this second occasion, they were met by a body of Pritchard's
satellites, armed with clubsand cutlasses — weapons, we believe, not
mentioned in the Gospel, except as being employed by the ser-
vants of Annas and Caiphas. Captain Williams humanely said,
he could not again allow them to expose themselves to such wolves,
and took them to Valparaiso.

Such is the conduct of Englishmen, for such we understand
this Pritchard is, when missionary lucre, joined to missionary
fanaticism, has carried them beyond the reach of British public
opinion. This is the man who represents the British character
for liberality, toleration, gentlemanly feeling, and religious spirit.
How we must be respected by the Tahitians ! It seems he has
amassed considerable wealth, for, as the natives say, every thing
is sold them, and sold them dear. Every book, every prayer,
every sacrament is venal. And while upon this subject, we must
not omit a fact, which will go towards estimating the accuracy
with which the poor creatures, drawn into the net of such men,
are taught the Gospel. In Tahiti, the dominion of Pritchard,
the eucharist is aaministered with the Mayore, or bread-tree
fruit ! In the version made into its language, and printed by the
missionaries, in the history of the institution at the, Last Supper,

1888.] Cafhoih Mixshns, S98

it is said, " He took Mayore^ and blessed," &c. In Chain
Island, the same sacrament is administered with the fruit of the
cocoa, and the intoxicating liquor extracted from it ! In the
Island of Rapa, where there is neither the bread-tree nor the
cocoa, the Lord's Supper is administered with the tnro^ a root
much resembling the turnip ! We have these facts upon un-
doubted authority. Let the subscribers to missionary societies
look to it.

Once more we beg to tiu'n our readers' attention to our own
missions, and entreat their co-o}>eration in any eflPorts that shall
be made in their favour.

Art. V. — Pedro of Castile. A Poem. Hy H. J. Shepherd, Elsq.
London. 1838.

IT is difficult in these days to induce |)eople to read a i)oem ;
and yet, more people, perhaps, now write tolerably good
poetry than at any other period of our literatur*^. Moore justly
remarked one day to Scott, that scarcely a magazine was now
published which did not contain some verses which, in their
younger days, would have made a reputation ; and the candid
|)oet of the north, in assenting to the proposition, humorously
observed what lucky dogs they themselves were, to have " pur-
sued their triumph and partaken the gale" of popular applause,
in days when the muse was younger and more followed after.
Without admitting altogether the modest inference of the author
of the Lay oj the iMst Minstrel^ that all who write well
would write as well and as winningly as Moore or Scott, we may
fairly take such authority as a proot that it is not the demerit of
present poetry that occasions the neglect of it, and that the
causes ot that neglect are to be traced to the public rather than
to the poets. Some of it, indee<l, may be attributable to the
imitative character, which the influence exercised by the geniuses
of the beginning of the century upon the admirei's who followed
in their wake, has had a tendency to generate. Men turn, with
a sense of insipidity and flatness, from what seems to their eyes
to be copied and transferred, even if the copy be not in itself
destitute of sense and spirit. This is tnie in all the fine arts,
and as much in writing as any of them, while the most op[x)site,
most careless, and even vicious stvles, have a certain charm, if

perceived to bear the original impress of a mind thinking, work-
mg, speaking, for itself. The legendary descriptiveness and

k

and
VOL. IV. — NO. viii. 2 D

394 Pedro of Castile, [April,

flowing labourless facility of Scott, and the deep groanings of
the dissatisfied and remorseful spirit in Byron, lost their attraction
and interest, when they became, respectively, the characteristics
of a school, instead of the outpouring of an individual soul; and
it was natural and right that mere imitators, whether simple or
Satanic, should take their obscure, undusted, places, on the shelf
of oblivion, whence no admiration of Dryden or of Pope could
formerly rescue "the mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease," in
fancied, perhaps even successful, imitation of them, in the days
of Charles or Anne. But although this may account for the
fate of much of the poetry left unread, and although we know
that after well-graced actors leave the stage, it is the habit of an
audience to have their eyes idly bent on him that enters next,
thinking his prattle to be tedious, it will not account for all.
There is a great deal of verse existing, full of original thought,
feeling, melody and grace, about which nobody ever troubles
himself, and which few would keep their attention to. In short,
poetry is not " the fashion." We doubt if this state of taste tells
well, either for or upon the public; whether it originates in
arvy very laudable or elevated condition of mind, or is at all
likely to produce it. The general pursuit of exact and physical
science, of mechanical utility and the means of corporeal ad-
vantages in the higher cast of readers, though so valuable as
improving the bodily condition of human beings, and in invigo-
rating their understandings, rarely does much, even with them,
towards elevating and refining the sentiments, or ameliorating
the heart; while the alternatives to which the lower class of.
readers, no longer guided to or pleased by poetrj', are likely to
be induced, are still more calculated to lower the moral tone, to
indurate the softer charities and affections, and to corrupt and
brutify the taste. The voice of philosophy and morality itself
sinks deeper into the heart, and more widely diffuses the blessing
which it contains, when conveyed through the exquisite numbers
of Pope, and the divinely ravishing harmony of Milton's lines ;
and it is a very different thing for the minds of the idler votaries
of the circulating library, whether they wile away the unoccu-
pied hour over a careless clumsy fiction — frivolously and falsely
endeavouring to pourtray the surface of external manners in
artificial life — sarcastically maligning a society to which the
soured author pines to be deemed to belong, — presenting vicious
portraits of individual exceptions, and making their conclusions
trom them general and abstract — gratifying all the lowest ten-
dencies of the most empty natures, and at best, attempting to fix
and treat as permanent, flimsy and evanescent characteristics
not worth preserving or dwelling upon, — or whether they amuse

1888.] Pedro of Castile, ' 895

their leisure with the lovely landscapes, the picturesque and
romantic patriotism, the sweet though unobtruded moralities and
affections of the Ixiftt Minxtrel and the Lady of the Lake.
These appear to us to be truths ol* an extensive influence, and
not unim|X)rtant ; and we could, without difficulty, go on to
illustrate them by much more detail, example, and argument ;
but as we are very well aware that it is almost as impossible to
reason as to bully a " public" into a taste, we will not embark
in any farther disquisitions or lamentations to prove or to correct
the misfortune, but merely proceed to avow that our own present
intention is to recommend to our readers the graceful and pleas-
ing production whose title stands at the head of our article, as at
least as well calculated to give them a pleased and unregretted
hour of contemplation, as any "Loves," " Victims," "Dinners,"
or " Divorces," by vulgar, puzzle-headed pseudo-fashionables,
are likely to impart to them.

This poem, in which historical characters are introduced and
thrown nito romantic adventure, is written in the octave stanza,
which may be termed the heroic measure of the Italians, since
their principal epic poems are written in it, and it has been
shown, in the hands of the authors of them, to be susceptible of
both great pathos and sublimity. But it was likewise adopted
by another class of their writers, who found it a fit vehicle for
the union, with the heroic and pathetic, of the lively and the
humorous ; and to this combination it seems to have lent itself
with a somewhat alarming and fatal facility. The change from
a contemplation of Tasso and Ariosto to Berni and Casti, must
be perceived to be a degradation. M. de la Monnoye justly
attributes it as a fault to Pulci, one of the earliest successful
writers in this mood, that, ignorant of rules, he had confounded
the comic and serious styles — and his most natural vein appears
to be for the first — for although he has a certain familiar satirical
gaiety m common with Ariosto, he never arrives at his romantic
tone of enthusiasm and elevation. The writings of Berni received
a tinge from his character, which was of a cast both licentious
and mdolent, and the talents which were its offspring were
chiefly, if not entirely, calculated for the extravagant and bur-
lesque. Casti, who has been justly called the profligate of
genius, still farther abused, in later times, the facile temper of
tliis dangerous style, and still farther debased and vitiated it by
a yet more licentious admixture of obscenity, bitterness, and the
witty sneer of a demoralizing philosophy. Even the best speci«
mens of this school appear to depend for their merit upon the
surprise of unexpected turns,

" From grave to gay, from lively to severe ;"

2d2

396 Pedro of Castile. [April,

and, like some of the late Mr. Kean's sudden starts and droppings
of the voice, upon the ingenuity of abrupt transition. We are
not ourselves quite certain that this careless confounding of oppo-
site moods of the mind — this raising of the feelings to wound
them with a joke — the producing a sentiment of elevation, to
have the cynical pleasure of buffeting it with a bathos, is precisely
the mode of writing which we prefer, and we lament that in most
of the cases in which it has been latterly attempted to transfer
the Italian measure to English literature, the authors of the
attempt appear to have had rather in their heads the inferior
than the more elevated Italian writers in it, and to have caught
their inspiration not so much from the Girusalemme, or even
the prodigal richness of the Orlando FuriosOy as from the Mor-
()(inte Maggiore and the Animali Parlanti. They appear to
have been captivated rather by the premium which it held out
to carelessness and want of method, than by those sublime results
of which, in nobler hands, it had been found to be capable.
Perhaps it is owing to tliis, that with some exceptions it does not
appear to have been extensively popular. One of the earliest
English specimens of it is Edward Fairfax's version of Taaso ;
and we cannot agree with Mr. Hume in his regret that he should
have adopted the Italian stanza on account of its prolixity and
uniformity, since we consider it as susceptible of more variety
than the English heroic couplet ; while, whatever other charm
the Spenserian stanza may possess, (and it has, in our opinion,
an exquisite one,) it cannot certainly compete with the Italian in
trippingness or brevity, but has a character of flowing majesty
about it, and of sustained thought at variance with those lighter
characteristics. Neither do we participate in the justice of the
neglect with which Fairfax's translation has been treated, or in
a belief of the necessity of Hoole's to supersede it; but rather
incline to think that we prefer a certain raciness of phrase and
natural vigour of expression (not unaccompanied either by much
occasional melody and elegance), which are to be found in
Fairfax, — a certain idiomatic Anglicism which gives something of
original sketchiness to his yet faithful copy, — to the more elabo-
rate and monotonous versification of the modern translator. Mr.
Stewart Rose has, more recently, infused into his Translation of
AriostOi much of the spirit and Rubens'-colouring of the rich
original, and we rejoice that he also has selected the Italian
metre for his rhythmical model, because we are of opinion that
in no other English measure would he have been able to pro-
duce so much corresponding character, or to convey so near a
notion of Ariosto's mood of thought and writing to the English
reader. Mr. Frere was among the first of our own day who

1838.] Pedro of Castite. 897

tried lo persuade the taste of the immediate moderns to flow in
the easy eddying ciiannel of the careless Ottava Himu. His
poem, which seemed to have for its object to put to flight ex-
aggeration and mannerism, and to substitute a purer and more
facile English, and one nearer approaching to vernacular expres-
sion as well as simplicity in the sentiments, had a certain charm
for scholars and for men of an erudite taste and verbal fastidious-
ness; for while it is the character of nascent and partial refine-
ment to seek a departure from simplicity, (men, in the beginnings
of civilization and letters, being afraid for a time of being natural,
for fear of being supposed to be common-place,) it is the tendency
of a maturity and excess of it, to resort to the pure original
fountains of language and of nature which their earlier and
more affected efforts have deserted. But the object of Mr.
Frere's work was too vague and too little apparent; it had in
itself too little of excitement or interest to make it agreeable to
general readers; the manner was new to their imaginations; the
subject of it, even if perceived, visionary and unreal to a fault.
Beppo, which may be called that poem's child, since Byron
received his inspiration from the hint conveyed in it, had a
much more popular fate. It overtook the "flighty purpose" of
the other, and " made a deed go with it ;" the events were intel-
ligible— the actors capable of being sympathized with — the sub-
ject, involving the light loves of careless society, and stepping as
near that narrow border where conventional propriety has set
its limit, as delicacy could permit — of general interest to the
world at large — and perhaps embracing the larger class in the
sphere of its attraction — so that it was more calculated to amuse
and titillate, than to elevate or refine the reader's imagination. It
was surrounded by the brilliant atmosphere of wit and invention
and felicitous expression, by which the gifted author was so often
enabled to extenuate, if not to veil, so many critical and moral
faults; and it at once enlisted the world on the side of its mood
and manner. Then came the chief effort of all in this line, —
Don Juatti a work of unexampled facility and versatility of
expression — full of {lassion, melody, and imagery, as of satire and
epigrani — an unweeded garden, in which the loveliest flowers
were rudely hustled by thorns, brambles, and yet ranker vege-
tation— a mine of poetical gems and of false and tinsel taste —
of the most exquisite delicacy of sentiment and feeling, and of
the utmost depravation and debauchery of the mind— of the
finest perceptions of intellectual grandeur and beauty, in com-
bination with the most studied confusion of moral elements—of
the nice apprehension of virtues with the habit and result of
vice — and comprehending most of the beauties and all of tlie

898 Pedro of Castile. [April,

demerits of the best and the worst of its predecessors. Too
beautiful not occasionally to captivate the taste which it con-
stantly insulted and I'epelled — too corrupt and false not to
shock and alienate the understanding which for moments it
enslaved — too dangerous to be abandoned to the indiscriminate
perusal of sex and youth, and yet too charming to be willingly
withheld from them. Its success naturally produced many
similar, though inferior, productions ; not so much from any
design or desire of imitating itself, as from the disclosure which
it made of so easy a vehicle for the embodification of various
moods of mind and thought, as they might follow each other in
rapid succession in a muse's brain, at so small an expense of
labour, polish, coherency, or arrangement, or even of an atten-
tion to those decent proprieties of moral and intellectual decorum,
whether in word or thought, which had been for the most part
deemed essential to the chaste dignity of any muse not pro-
fessedly licentious and impure.

Among these successors of Jtiatty a short poem called the
Brunswick,* by Mr. Thomson, was the best ; at least we remem-
ber to have been struck, in reading it, by some stanzas of great
melody of rhythm and perception of natural beauty, together
with the indicise of that original and individual reality of feeling,
the result of temperament rather than education, the child of the
heart rather than the head, which always communicates itself to
style, even when there may be little novel in the idea, and in
minds attuned to the euphony of well-selected words, will
"voluntarily move harmonious numbers;" though, if we recollect
right, these were often in pretty close juxtaposition with much
of the cynical d^nigrant sarcasm by which his prototypes had
been disfigured. But whatever rays of genius might illuminate
at intervals the colloquial familiarities oi these various disciples
of the off-hand school, we must say that all of them, not even
excepting Byron himself, have renounced and lost that character
of epic chivalry which imparted the principal charm to the
earlier handlers of the octave rhyme, and shed a light and a
brilliancy through the web of the mixed tissue which they
wove. Like all copyists, these have been too prone to ex-
aggerate the faulty feature, and have omitted one of the most
redeeming graces of expression which acted as their counter-
poise. It is no small praise to Mr. Shepherd to say that the
general tone of his poem is conceived in a spirit opposite to this,
and one which has a greater tendency to revert to the old simple
enchanting tone of heroic and amorous romance, of constancy in

* TheBrumwick; a poem, London, 1829.

1888.] Pedro of Ctutiic. 399

" ladyc love and war," of female purity and of " knightly worth"
and honour; which had the merit at least of presenting exalted
rather than degraded and degrading models, and of raising,
soothing, purifying, and contenting the fancy, instead of leaving
it depressed, deteriorated, wounded, and dissatisfied. No weight
is thrown by him into the scale of crime or corruption, as prefer-
able or equal to purity and virtue — no low and insidious attempt
encourage<l to prove either the one or the other equivalent
accidents between which the choice is indifferent — no lurking
pur|)ose exhibited of undermining the wisely-prejudicetl bigotry
of the bias which the youthful Hercules nmy feel towards the
more stern alternative. He does not desire to depreciate valour,
nor to show sentiment to be a farce and enthusiasm a weakness —
his love is free from depravity, and his playfulness from impiety ;
his tender passages are the tenderness of the pure, and his comic
ones, (not we think his best,) have at least nothing of that scorn-
ful scoff of derision by which the "wardrobe of our moral
imaginations is to be rudely torn off," our " naked shivering
nature" rendered colder and more destitute, and our finer and
more etherialized aspirations dissipated by a sneer. There are
plenty of symptoms of his taste having been formed upon higher
models, and his heart upon more sound and compassionate
principles; and if he occasionally gives rather more than we
could nave wished into what we might call (borrowing a phrase
from architecture with a different meaning) the "transition
style," he does so seldomer than others, and with a less chilling
effect.

The selection of his hero may perhaps in so far be deemed not
the most fortunate, that so many successive historians, copying
each other, have handed him down as " Peter the Cruel," that
some may find it difficult to overcome the first impression of that
name. How difficult it would be to excite a favourable interest
for the loves of Richard the Third and Lady Anne; nay, how
obstinately belief is refused to the most apjmrent disprovals of
many of his criminalities, in consequence of the resolved hatred
towards him which history and Shaksi)eare have engendered.
But it is probable that the character of^ the Castilian sovereign
was exaggerated with a view to gratify the successor who dis-
placed him, in the same way that Richard's indisputably was to
please and corroborate the crafty conqueror of Bosworth Field ;
so much, alas ! is |>08terity dependant for its knowledge and its
creed, upon the interests or caprices of cotemporary chroniclers,
and the character of the times and the circumstances under which
they write ! There appear to be other reasons besides that of
the brave and chivalrous complexion which he assumes in Mr.

400 Pedro of Castile, [April,

Shepherd's version of him, for supposing that this prince, who
has been furnished by tradition with so awkward and little pre-
possessing a " handle to his name," was, under many points of
view, what may be called an exceedingly good fellow. And if
the hero's name fails at first sight to conciliate our favour, that
of the heroine must, upon the same principles, have a directly
opposite effect, since history and romance have both alike de-
lighted to deck the character and memory of Maria de Padilla.
The times and land in which the scene is laid are full of romantic
incident and interest. Tl)e Spanish character, full of energy,
activity and generosity, not without some tinge of fiercest ferocity,
lias always given the nation a tendency to split into separate and
hostile communities; and except when ruled by monarclis pos-
sessed of great extrinsic means of treasure or population, or
under the influence of auxiliary connexions abroad, it has
generally presented that divided aspect under which the elements
of power are not arranged, balanced, and regulated, but broken
as it were into opposing points, well fitted to furnish chivalrous
character, and give birth to unusual situations and incidents.
And this was or course peculiarly the case when the Peninsula
was divided with the Moors. That remarkable people — who for
800 years occupied some of the fairest parts of Spain — who
having dispossessed a nation of its lands, founded famous monar-
chies and established learned universities — who preserved and
f>erhaps extended, whilst Europe was yet dark, the scientific
ights of antiquity — who, catching the European spirit of feudal
chivalry, so opposed to the general temper of orientals, touched
it with a superior grace and refinement, and warmed the dawn
of European literature with the glow of their Arabian sunshine —
who afterwards dwindled slowly away before the renewed or
nascent power of those they had subdued ; and, contracting at
last into national insignificance, (the result of intestine faction,
still more than of foreign pressure) — returned enfeebled, wasted,
and demoralized, to the shores they originally left full of a robust
expansion and spirit. That people, whether in their own con-
stitution, or mingling with the arms and chivalry of Spain, have
ever been a favourite theme of imaginative romance, and have
furnished forth many a "motivo" to the lay of love or heroism.
We do not wonder that Mr. Shepherd's cast of fancy should have
been attracted by these pictures and contemplations ; and one
of the most attractive parts of his somewhat desultory song, will
be found to be that which touches on the fairy land, — the blest
Hesperides of the glowing and voluptuous Granada.

The inward stimulus which prompts the desire of embodying
sentiment in melodious expression — that indefinable* mixture of

1888.] Pedro of Castile, 401

results of the apprehension nnd the meniorj', which produces the
fine abstraction of " the nuisc," is touche<l in the sc*cond stanza
with true poetical feeling and with a modest grace :

*' The glorious visions of the early muse,

Fix'd by a sweet oiiphantment of apt words,
Survive through ages, and around ditiuse

The fountain freshness of her glowing hoards;
What, if an idle lip would catch the dews,

Her wave, wide-wandering from the source, affords,
Bards may forgive a fancy they partake,
And spare the dreamer for the muse's sake." — Canf. i. $f. 2.

The poem then opens with the arrival of a page froju Don
Pedro, absent and in arms against Henry of Transtamarre,
with a letter for his queen, — who certaiidy appears before us in
more fairy colours than queens are usually invested with, or
than even poesy has been in the habit of ascribing to them since
the days of "that fair vestal throned by the west," who inspired
so many pens and imaginations, at least, to exceed romance in
painting her theoretical beauty. IJut we will not mar by garbled
anticipation the reader's pleasure in the portraiture of this cer-
tainly very charming woman, (a happy, and we fear, a rare, if
wot lioi)eless, union of sentimenuU enthusiasm and passionate
sympathies with dignity and repose) and resist the temptation of
citing any of the descriptions of her person and feelings, which
produce the image of her upon our mind. She enters the
garden in a moonlight night, in that state of anxious anticipation
an<l internal disquietude, when scenes of external tranquillity
seem most precious and magnetic, though perhaps most painful ;
and the scene suggests the following stanzas, at once elegant and
thoughtful : —

" How sweet 'neath summer skies, in fragrant boweis,
To sit, when Phoebus slopes her golden ray,

Surrounded by the Iiues of breathing flowers,
That slied their sweetest breatii at close of day,

To conjure fairy dreams, and think them ours.
And s<|uander on the thouglit our time away I

What artist builds a palace half so fair

As those gay glittering castles bas'd on air ?

" There sunshine falls, though all around may lower
With gloom and disappointment I there we w ind

Hope's flattering web, and cherish for an hour
The dang'rous treasure of a taste refin'd I

How much that graces virtue, softens power,
Springs from the visions of unworldly mind,

As all abroad on Fancy's wings it flies.

And spurns the earth, and mingles with the skies !

402 Pedro of Castile. [April,

'' Such idle flights are kin to virtuous thought ;

What villain ever muses ? he may scheme,
But never yet his soul was fancy-caught

By the bright shapes that float in some day-dream,
Of things the poet or the priest has taught,

Which are, to those they smile on, what they seem :
Men, in their modes of traffic, lust and strife;
Are all he seeks or knows of human life." — Cant. i. st. 24-5-6.

But the letter was the harbinger of Pedro himself— and while
the moon was yet, as the author says — with a just feehng of the
magic of euphonious names judiciously applied —

" Tipping with pearl Giraldo's studious height.
And silvering Guadalquivir to the main,"

lie arrives — they meet, as none but those who love, can meet.
The whole atmosphere of the air, the climate, and the verse, are
softly and tenderly in unison with the " raptur'd scene," and the
canto concludes with the satisfied sensation of their mutual hap-
piness together. We hardly ever met with anything to our
feelings more beautifully conceived, or more opposed to the
brutalizing school, than the reflections on the nature of their
meeting; which we believe to be founded in strict metaphysical
(perhaps we ought rather to say physical) truth, and which pre-
sent an idea far more deeply impassioned, as well as more pure,
(since the infusion of the moral force unspeakably heightens the
intenseness of passion if in just proportion with it) than any
merely sensual apprehension or exhibition of love could furnish:

" O charmed moment of unequall'd bliss,

When the glad meeting parting lovers find,
And the soul melts, entranc'd upon a kiss, —

The soul, but not the sense ; when all is mind
For one pure moment, and the blood remiss

Flows not to fever pleasure so refin'd,
But lags awhile, nor suffers wild desire
To mix his flame with such ethcrial fire I" — Cant. i. st. 40.

But Pedro is come only to depart again ; and the second canto
displays him raising money for his campaign, from a iew ; and
thouf^h there is much here that is forcible, graphic, and well-
expressed, we like it, on the whole, less than the first one, and
deem tenderness and beauty to be the author's forte, as he him-
self gracefully insinuates in two stanzas in the third canto, which
contains Pedro's departure, conflict, and defeat.

" Dread scourge of nations. War, with cruel eyes,
< Thou great corrector of enormous times,
Before thee Terror walks, behind thee lies

Death, multiform and ghastly ; xmcheck'd crimes

1888.] Pedro of Castile. 408

Of ever)' aspect, all around thee ri»e I

What — what hast thou to do with these light rhyine»?
Why did I venture in thy puqjlu field,
To tremble, turn, and tly, without my shield ?

*' My muse, unequal to thy grave affair.

Was only bom to hang a light festoon
Hound some French window, where the summer air

Bn*athes in through vine-leaves, gently temp'ring noon,
Or else to Hutter in the magic glare

Of that deceitful colourist, the moon.
Who gives a soften'd charm, a shadowy grace,
To whatsoe'er she turns her lovely face." — Cant, iii. st. 23-4.

The foiirtii canto, which opens with a melodious tribute to the
chivalrous muse of Tasso, pleasing to our judgment and recol-
lections, as well as to our ear, shows the devoted queen in search
of the wounded Pedro on the battle-field — successful in her
search, and bearing him off' to a Spanish cottage as an asylum ;
the details and Spanish-hood of which give Mr. Shepherd occa-
sion to break into a fine sketchy apostrophe to Byron : —

" How at that word my fancy turns to thee,

Thou brightest poet of the latter day.
Whose spirit, steep'd in all the mind can sec

Of beauty and of passion, gloomy, gay.
Severe, disdainful ; liv'd in poesy.

And pour'd out life in one continuous lay !
A rich Pactolus, whose discoloured wave
Bore gems and gold in torrent to the grave." — Cant. iv. «/. 221.

When Pedro has recovered, they leave their cottage for
Granada, to procure the help of its Moorish sovereign towards
the re-establishment of their wrecked affairs : — which gives Mr.
Shepherd the advantage of enlisting on his side the oriental
splendour and beauty of the South, and giving us some very
lovely stanzas illustrative of them: and a jealous suspicion of an
innocent (though it appears somewhat coquettish) queen, on the
part of Muhamed, opens to him the exciting region of the Trial
by Battle, and the Lists and the Sentiment of Chivalry, — of all
which he has availed himself as might be expected. There are
two semi-barbarous sylvans, a male and female, introduced here,
of a kind of Orson origin, who, though we are disposed to
consider them a little wild and extravagant, are yet certainly of
a cast of originality calculated to arouse and keep up the atten-
tion, and they give occasion to some very beautiful and agreeable
woodland ideas. We thiiik the following notice of the brother's
appearance, very spirited, and of a fine rural wholesomeness in
its tone : —

404 Pedro of Castile, [April,

" His wild blue eye deep-seated did disclose

The roving fancies of untutor'd thought ;
His olive cheek was freshen'd bj- the rose,

And free and fearless each emotion wrought
On his clear brow, where chiefly did repose

The calm of self dependence, gift unbought
Of Nature's lavish beauty, when she join'd
The healthful body to the vigorous mind." — Canto iv. «/.65.

There is also a verv pretty woodland episode of a sort of
enchanted sylvan castle, kept by " Ladies of the Glen" of a
betterniost kind, where Pedro njets his fortune told, — but we must
really avoid a premature disclosure of all the mysteries of this
wandering tale of knighthood and adventure, or we shall be
republishing the book.

The battle takes place — the queen is cleared, but the Moorish
king (in a bad humour, we suppose, at the failure of his cause,
though by losing it he kept a wife who seems really to have been
worth the keeping), will give Pedro no assistance in his military
projects, and the portion of his history, which we are as yet
in possession of (for we especially flatter ourselves that Mr.
Shepherd has not yet done with him), concludes with his sailing
with Maria de Padilla for France, to procure the help of Edward
the Black Prince, who, as is well known, successfully espoused
the cause of Peter, in a manner, and with a suddenness, which
we confess we always thought, while with no other lights than old
Froissart could shed upon us, somewhat capricious and unac-
countable; but which now appears to us the most natural thing in
the world, after the insight afforded us by Mr. Shepherd's muse
into the Castilian's powers of persuasion, and yet more into the
nature of the diplomatic agency by which he was accompanied.

We think we have cited examples enough from Pedro of
Castile^ to convince our readers that there ai-e, scattered over its
not very numerous pages, poetical beauties of no ordinary kind ;
and these, did our limits permit, we could easily have multiplied
to a greater extent ; we must content ourselves with transcribing
the following novel and beautiful stanzas in the 6th canto, on
walking by moonlight through the streets of London; the stanza
on a woman on horseback ; and that on dancing : —
" Talking of poetry, I've often thought
It odd, that bards so generally fly,

For metaphors, and matters of that sort,

To groves, and meadows, rivers, hills, and sky,

Expanded o'er those lovely wonders wrought
In God's own hand ; nor found the reason why

They seldom think of walking up to town

To borrow from the works that man hath done.

1888.] Pedro of Castile, 405

" Sure there's a poetry amid the strife,

Extravagance, and poverty, and pain,
And vice, and 8j)Iendour of the city life ;

Loves, losses, thoughtless ease, and thirst of gain,
Beneath high roofs, with nightly revels rife.

And morning's after-thought : should bards disdain
To body forth these not unworthy things,
When fined and coloured through Parnassian springs ?
" He that shall wander when the moon is high.

And see the city in the mellowed air.
And mark the masses traced upon the sky.

In bolder outline than a painter dare
Define, and softer than his tints will lie,

May deem a poetry inhabits there,
Feel the soft sense, half tranquil, half elate.

Which all external forms of grace create."-C'tf n/t) vi. it. 23, 4, .1.

« « « *

" 'Tis good to see a steed of noble race

By woman ruled with skill and mastery ;
The smitten air gives freshness to her face.

And animation glistens in her eye ;
Her very breathing quickens into grace,

And by a fault enchants : few things outvie
A lovely woman on a fiery horse.

The mingled charm of gentleness and force."-rrtM/uiv.*/.4'2.

* « * «

" His dancing savour'd of the British growth,

Without the elastic gay Moresco spring,
Buoyant in air, but rather like a sloth.

Half disinclin'd to undertake the thing,
Till after supper ; then he was not loth

In free fandango the light foot to fling,
And what with Zelia's, Delia's, Celia's training,
Became quite entertain'd and entertaining." — Canto vi. st. 35.

But although it would not be difficult to select many passages
of merit by themselves, the principal charm of this poem is much
more derivecl from the general cast of |)oetical thought and sense
of melody — from the evidence of a mind habitually moving in an
atmosphere of literary grace and accomplishment — of the prolu-
sions of a musical and cultivated imagmation, expanding itself
ovt-r thef»eneral objects of life and nature — than from very striking
insulatea fragments. It is written in very pure and unaft'ected
English, and is never stilted or obscure : though the thought is
frequently profound, the language in which it is convey e<l is
always simple and intelligible. Though there is no strained
attempt at being original, and at saying something which h<id per-
haps only not been said before, because it was not worth saying at
all, — yet there is a perpetual complexion of freshness about it,

406 Pedro of Castile. [April,

which shows that neither the thought nor the expression is stale;
— and we doubt wliether there is one stanza, from beginning to end,
which is bad, bald, or commonplace. Though it reminds us suffi-
ciently oi Juan to make us sensible of the fraternal (perhaps filial)
similitude, yet it has nothing of the hardness or servility of a copy;
and in a certain romantic tone which pervades it, might almost
be said to have risen above it. We own we consider it to be
rather disfigured than assisted by the occasional pleasantries with
which it is interspersed; and they appear to us to be rather
sacrifices of fancied necessity to the supposed genius of the style,
than overboilings of a merry-making vein in the author himself,
though sometimes not ill-executed. His comparison of the old
Court of Justice, in which the decision was arrived at by the
judicial combat, with the Courts of Record at Westminster,
strikes us as one of his best bits in this very doubtful line: —

" In modern times, when judges entertain

A doubt in law, they let the cause proceed,
Because they know an error's cured again

By means which only make the client bleed:
In ancient lists the counsel breathed a vein :

To-Avit, the champion ; therefore greater heed :
As errors were to life and limb extensive,
New trials were consider'd too expensive." — Canto iv. st. 47.

There is scarcely unity of story and plot enough to maintain an
interest, apart from the writing; and a little disappointment is
experienced at the absence of continuous action, and catastrophi-
cal result. These are little blemishes, which it would not be just
to omit a mention of in any impartial analysis of the work ; but
we can venture to assert that these will not be the points which,
unless with some very stupid and pedantic persons, will be the
first to strike, or the last to dwell upon the mind or memory of
any lover of the muse, whom we may have encouraged to read
this pleasing poem.

Mr. Shepherd is too little known to the public as the author of
a Tragedy,* which contains in our opinion a higher vein of
poetry, and more decided marks of genius, than the poem we have
reviewed. The Countess of Essex is founded upon the murder
of Sir Thomas Overbury, whose high and unbending character
is finely opposed to that of the fierce inexorable woman with
whom he commences a struggle, which the reader is at once
aware must terminate fatally for one or both. The great defect
of the play was perhaps inseparable from the nature of the
subject — we mean the moral darkness of the characters, which to

• 77i€ Counteis of Essex. Murray. •

1888.] Pedro of Castile. 407

a great extent is uniform and unrelieved by tender emotions.
The author has shewn great judgment (though we believe at the
sacrifice of historical accuracy) in exonerating the husband from
anv active share in the murder of his friend. Their parting
scene is thrillingly fine, and we regret our inability to make any
extracts. The dialogue throughout is poetical, vigorous, and
well sustained ; and the conclusion very finely introduces us to
the guilty pair, living in utter solitude and apart under the same
rooh Years have elapsed — their crime is undiscovered, or at least
unproved — their union has been accomplished, and they are
prosperous — yet their victim is avenged, and their guilt punished
to the full vindication of moral justice, by the mutual hatred and
the withering remorse which we as well as they feel to be
undying. There is a fine moral idea in this conclusion, and it
is beautifully executed; but we think it probable that this break
in the unity of the scene may have contributed to prevent the
representation of this tragedy, which in other respects appears to
us admirably calculated for the stage. This tragedy will, in our
judgment, bear an advantageous comparison with any of its
modern rivals, and we strongly recommend its perusal to our
readers.

A RT. VI. — The Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. By Jonathan
Binns, Assistant Agricultural Commissioner on the late Irish
Poor Enquiry. London. 1837.

BETWEEN the sister islands, I^ngland and Ireland, there
intervenes, as our first lesson in geography has informed us,
a channel of but a few hours' sail. Between these same islands
there has subsisted a connexion — not exactly one of love and
affection, and mutual kindliness and anxiety for each other's
welfare — but in shorts connexion, — in agi*eater and less degree,
ever since the thirteenth centur)', down to the present time.
The people of the two islands have been considered, by foreigners
at least, to form but one and the same nation, and indeed in
external relations, with some important exceptions, they would
so appear to be. The exceptions we allude to are to be found in
the cases where the commercial freedom of the lesser countrj' was
sacrificed to the imagined interests of the greater ; but these
flagrant instances of besotted jealousy come not within our imme-
diate object. We proceed with our facts. Not only has a
connexion existed during the long and dreary seven centuries
that have rolled over Ireland since she was invaded, but an

408 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

active, and at times (times of plunder) an intimate communication
has prevailed between the two countries. These statements of
oui*s may be received with impatience by many, as common oft-
told facts of history ; but we recite them for the purpose of
considering a very natural deduction, that a person unacquainted
with the historical details of the seven ages might be led to make.
Such a one might say — "it surely follows, clear as a consequence
in logic, that a reciprocal good feeling must have grown up
between the two — and, above all, that they know and understand
each other thoroughly and reciprocally."

It is not our design — nor is it indeed our wish — at present, to
enter upon the heart-sickening recital of proofs that this recipro-
city of good feeling does not exist; under all the circumstances,
its birth and growth would have been miraculous. It is sufficient
to assert, what indeed is well known, that it does not exist even
yet to any important degree. As to the reciprocity of acquaint-
ance and understanding, we must fall back upon Joe Miller,
and confess that such a reciprocity does exist — on one side only,
however — upon the Irish side. We know England; she has
made us know her. Our sufferings, our griefs, our anxieties,
have sharpened our perceptions and attention, and accordingly
we can say, and truly, that we do know England. It is,
however, equally true that the inhabitants of that island have had
formerly a most limited knowledge of us, and that even in the
present day they are for the greater part grossly ignorant on all
that appertains to " Ireland and the Irish." There is a natural
selfishness of nations, as there is of individuals. They are prone
to occupy themselves with themselves alone ; and the wants,
wishes, and feelings of others, are to them ji matter of little
import. What is near, surrounding, and immediate, engrosses
all their attention, and is magnified till it shuts from view what is
remote and dependant. At the moment at which we write,
there is presented to the world u glaring instance of this neglect
and inattention, and their woeful consequences. Canada has
broken out into revolt — life and property have been destroyed,
and the peace and happiness of this colony ruined for many
a long year, because we suffered the distance to prevent our
hearing the earnest and respectful remonstrances addressed to
us, and shut our ears until the Canadians raised their tone, and
demanded the rights unjustly withheld. Then — then our pride
— our sacred national pride, was not to be lowered, and so
we would not (to borrow Lord Stanley's inadvertent confession)
" concede to clamour what we had refused to justice !" The
revolt of the Canadians was unjustifiable, for they had not
exhausted all peaceable and constitutional means vf procuring

f

1888.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 409

redress of their grievances — but how deeply unjustifiable the
conduct tliat gave them ground for their discontent and indig>
nation !

In the case of England and Ireland, as, in a very great
measure, in that also of Canada, this neglect was carefully
fostered by those entrusted with the Irish government. They
found their account, in diverting, by active misrepresentation, by
passive obstruction, by the thousand means their position gave
them, the attention of England ; and where they encountered any
disposition to enquire, too active to be foiled by the ordinary arts,
a share of their plunder was readily bartered for sufferance and
protection afforded to outrageous licence and tyranny. The re-
sult was and is, the generally prevalent ignorance we speak of.
In this ignorance — under these misrepresentations — biassed by
the base prejudices engendered by such ignorance, and fomented
and envenomed by such calumnies, the legislation for Ireland was
carried on, and deeds were done to that unhappy country, that
have darkened and stained the fair escutcheon of England's
fame, not irretrievably indeed — tor she can make amends — but
still most deeply and most foully. There was no shame taken for
this ignorance— men good and upright, and honest and high-
minded in other respects, have lived and died without opening
their minds to the terrible truth, that they were guilty of criminal
acquiescence in every horror enacted towards the dependant
country, and that humanity, justice, reason, religion, even self-
interest (for ultimately misconduct ever recoils upon its authors)
imperatively demanded that they should gird their loins, and
rouse themselves to do manly battle with tne prejudices of their
youth, and to shake off" and dissipate the criminal apathy in
which they were plunged. The spread of general enlightenment
and interchange of ideas has at length excited, in some degree,
this wholesome and honourable shame. Even in England — self-
worshipping England — it is making progress, slow indeed — but
still certain and indisputable. A thousand difficulties are in the
way : among the foremost, the fierce, immitigable, and serpent-
like hatred borne by the Tory party to Ireland and every thing
Irish — a hatred manifesting itself by every kind of calumny, and
every thing that can tend to {K^rpetuate bigotry in its foulest
shape. Yet the people of England are struggling on towards
light, and ultimately they must and will attain it. Interest,
increasing with strange rapiditv, is becoming attached to all pub-
lications relating to Ireland. These, however, are unfortunately,
in the vast majority of cases, but blind guides, where they are
not worse. Many of them, such as the travels of Inglis, are
penned in a spirit deliberately and inveterately hostile to the

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. 2 £

410 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland^ [April,

country and people whom he subjected to his jaundiced inspec-
tion. The illiberal and ungentlemanly character of his writings,
and the grovelling prejudices that pervade tliem, prevent their
being of any good service to the cause of enquiry ; and yet this
very spirit of enquiry has made them be seized upon and read,
and a favour has been accorded to them, because of their
tendency to confirm a bigotry that had begun to be unsettled.
Some few of the accounts of Ireland are written in a better
spirit, and with a desire to tell the truth, and above all to find
out what was good in the subject, instead of being animated by a
depraved and malignant seeking after all that can lower and
render contemptible. The work before us — that of Mr. Binns,
one of the Society of Friends — is written in the good spirit we
describe, and emanates very evidently from an honest, honourable,
and conscientious man. Appointed as " an Assistant Agricultu-
ral Commissioner under the late Irish Poor Enquiry," (the same
which has been so unceremoniously made to give place to the won-
derful Mr. Nicholls), he has traversed a very considerable portion
of Ireland, making enquiries and careful remarks everywhere, — as
well those connected with his immediate duties, as others of a
general nature, which have furnished matter for his two goodly
volumes. There are mistakes, and wrong impressions, and faulty
opinions occasionally, but the tone and spirit are good ; and if
his work have not the good fortune to be extensively read, it at
any rate merits perusal at the hands of those who desire to get
some true ideas of the country upon which it treats.

About the middle of the year 1835, Mr. Binns, on being
informed of his appointment, left England for Dublin, there to
receive his instructions and his route. Having got these, he pro-
ceeded to visit the counties of Louth, Down, and Monaghan,
after which business of importance recalled him for a month to
England. In October he proceeded to resume his duties, and
landing at Donaghadee, he visited the counties of Antrim,
Londonderry, Tyrone, Fermanagh, Cavan, Leitrim, .Sligo,
Mayo, Galway, Roscommon, Westmeath, King's county; and at
Philipstown he took the canal boat, and proceeded to Shannon
harbour, where he entered upon the waters of the Shannon.
Proceeding down that " mighty stream," as he well designates it,
he visited Limerick, not without paying attention to the sliores by
which he was hurried, and feeling strong admiration fon the
noble river that bore him along. Continuing his route by water,
for thirty or forty miles farther, he landed at Tarbert, in the
county of Kerry, and devoted a good deal of attention to that
county. From thence his return route lay through the counties
Cork, Tipperary, Queen's county, and Kildare, tq Dublin, which

1838.] Mixeries and Beauties of Ireland. 411

he readied early in November 1886 ; having consumed nearly a
year and a half in the researches entrusted to him. At Dubiia
he " obtained a release from the Board, and had an opportunity
of becomingmiore particularly acquainted with the details of that
interestin<T city." However, not yet satisfied with his knowledge
of Irelana, he now determined to proceed on a private tour; and
during two months he visited the South an;ain, proceeding through
Wicklow, Wexford, and Waterford, and taking Clare upon his
homeward route, thus visiting the few counties he had not seen
during his former trips. During his oflBcial.journey to which of
course he gave up very considerably more time than to that he made
in a private capacity, he, along with other Assistant Commis-
sioners, held examinations, at various places, into the state
of agriculture, general condition of the people, prices, rents, &c. ;
and the substance of his and their enquiries (which, we may
remark in passing, were certainly conducted with great care,
skill, and experience ; and with an honest and eager anxiety to
get at facts and submit them to the public plainly stated) has
appeared at length in the Reports of the Enquiry nito the con-
dition of the Irish Poor. In the pages before us, our author
gives copious extracts from his own notes, and concludes with a
chapter of " General Remarks" upon Ireland, her former and
present condition, her evils and their remedies. To this chapter,
being as it is a recapitulation of the opinions and statements of
the other chapters, we will first address ourselves, and notice
incidentally and subsequently some of the preceding portions of
his work.

That we have not spoken too highly of Mr. Binns, let at least
our Irish readers iudge, when we direct their attention to the
spirit of the followmg remarks: —

" This state of things (speaking of the anomalous condition of
Ireland, with her natural advantages, and actual state of misery) so
truly deplorable, is exclusively referable to the systematic course of
partiality, oppression, and cruelty, with which her people have been
treated through successive centuries; and if it were my obiect to re-
present the injuries that have been done, rather than to dwell upon the
prospect of good things to come, I might, by referring to authentic
■ources of information, draw a series of terrific pictures of persecution,
intolerance, and desolation, to which it would be difficult, perhaps im-
possible, to find parallels in the history of any nation not absolutely
barbarous. It becomes us, who are in some degree responsible for the
misdeeds of our predecessors, and are certainly bound to repair the evils
they have effected, it becomes us I repeat, to bear constantly in mind,
that ever since her connexion with (ireat Britain, Ireland has been a
grievously oppressed country ; that for the ignoble purpose of extin-
guishing her religion and seizing on the properties of its votaries, she has

2 £2

412 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

been deprived of those political privileges which were her right, and which,
sooner or later, she will possess ; that so far from the Irish being naturally
a turbulent people, they are made so by circumstances under the control
of England; and that dissatisfied as they are, and have been, the
wrongs they have endured, the insults they have suffered, would have
justified a course of conduct incomparably more violent than any which
Ireland in her wildest moments, in her fiercest paroxysms of excitement,
has displayed. The terms of the union, let us remember, promised an
equality of civil rights, and until those terms are rigidly complied with,
Ireland never will, and she never ought to be, a contented country.
Convinced, however, that a brighter day is dawning — nay has already
dawned — I would drop a veil over the frightful transactions of by-gone
times, and look cheerfully and confidently towards the future." —
Vol.ii. pp. 414-15-16.

He then proceeds to defend the Irish people from charges
commonly brought against them : —

" As it is not unusual to hear the Irish charged with the several
vices of idleness, cruelty, and recklessness, it may be well, perhaps, to
keep these allegations in view, in the course of the following observa-
tions. As to idleness, — when it is considered that they receive compa-
ratively no reward for their labour ; that the market is continually
overstocked ; that the more they exert themselves, the more they increase
the surplus labour, already too great; and that the disappointments
they so repeatedly encounter, have a tendency to destroy their energy,
and to produce indifference, or despair, the wonder is, not that they
are idle, but that they are not infinitely worse. It is, in fact, utterly
impossible, in the present state of things, for the Irish to be anything
but idle. When they have a prospect of being compensated for their
labour, it is applied with skilful and enthusiastic industry. Let the
character of Irish labourers be sought in the large seaport towns ; let
an appeal be made to the extensive English farmers, who are glad to
avail themselves, in harvest time, of their valuable services. From
either of these quarters an answer, far from discreditable to the objects
of the enquiry, will be returned. In confirmation of this, I would take
the liberty of introducing a passage from the letter of one of the most
spirited and experienced of agriculturists, William Stickney, of Ridg-
mont, in Holderness. I could not refer to higher authority. This
gentleman, for many years, has annually employed, during the harvest
season, a number of Irish labourers, and this is his judgment of them :
' For honesty, sobriety, industry, gratitude,' says Mr. Stickney, ' and
many other good qualities, they far surpass the same class of English
labourers. When they begin to arrive in this country, it is sometimes
two or three weeks before harvest ; and if they do not immediately find
work, many of them are without the means of subsistence. Under
these circumstances, they frequently apply to me to lend them a few
shillings, which I do in small sums, amounting in the whole to several
pounds, and this without any injunction that they should work it out
with me. They give a verbal promise that they will return the loan

1888.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 413

before they leave the neighbourhood ; and I do not remember an in-
stance in wliich they have ever deceived me, — they have invariably
returned the money lent, with a deep sense of gratitude. Admiring
the Irish labourers, as I have reason to do, I am always glad to see
them when they make their appearance. In the summer season, I fre-
quently have from thirty to fifty, or more, lodging upon my premises ;
several of them working for other persons in the neighbourhood, and
many of them entire strangers to me ; yet I would trust my life and
property muck sooner with them than with the same class of English
labourers, and I consider my premises more secure from depredation
under their protection, than I should with any other strangers.' " —
voL ii. pp. 416-19.

Certainly there can be no assertion so utterly unfounded as
that which says the Irish are an idle people. The whole life of
the poor Irishman is a most energetic and desperate struggle for
employment, as a means of honest and creditable support ; and
as soon ought fault to be found with him for his gaunt and
famished looks, as for his occasional appearance of listless iner-
tion. Both are the result of an iron necessity, coped with and
fought against in vain. Miss Martineau has written much and
soundly upon the science of political economy, and her instruc-
tive and interesting works contain but few mistakes ; but where
these occur, they are weighty ones indeed. A most glaring in-
stance is to be found in her portraiture of an Irish peasiint,
whom, in one of her interesting tales illustrative of the principles
of political economy, she makes to find his greatest delight and
chief method of passing life, in lying basking all day in Uie sun,
or by the fire on his wretched cabin hearth, vying in brutish in-
dolence with his pig. We know not if Miss Martmeau has been
in Ireland, but this gives strong presumptive evidence to the
contrary ; as we are sure if she had, she never would have penned
this description — this, of course unintentional, but not tlie less
gross and utter libel. It is not to be imagined that a person of
ner philosophic, and benevolent, and enlarged mind, would deli-
berately stoop to share in and foster the common prejudices
against the much and deeply calurilniated people of Ireland. At
the same time, however, it must be admitted, with deep regret,
that she ought not to have written so confidently, where she was
so utterly ignorant.

Of Irish outrages, Mr. Binns says : —

" If the outrages committed by the Irish people are incapable of vin-
dication, facts and circumstances may at least be produoetl in extenua-
tion. On impartial consideration, it will be apparent, that the very
worst are certainly not more cruel and vindictive than any other people
under similar treatment ; and that the outrages of which they were
guilty, were, in fact, for the most part, the natural growth of the policy

414 Miseries (tnU Beauties of Ireland, [April,

adopted towards them. We often heard, for instance, of murders being
perpetrated upon such as took land from which others have been ejected;
and it is possible that Englishmen, knowing that similar effects do not
follow similar causes in this country (England), may be disposed to
consider a case clearly made out against the Irish. Between the re-
spective systems of taking land in England and Ireland, there is this
material difference, however, — so material as to render any analogy
that may be drawn, a very imperfect and fallacious mode of reasoning.
An English farmer, when ejected, having little or no difficulty in getting
another farm, has little or nothing to dread. In Ireland, when a man

is ejected, it is next to impossible for him to find a farm at liberty

In this manner, great numbers have been turned adrift — not because of
arrear of rent — not because they had transgressed the rules of their
lease — but simply because they happened to profess a religious or poli-
tical creed at variance with that of a capricious landlord. It cannot
surely be denied that, systematically and wickedly oppressed as the
Irish labourers are, to rise in self-defence is at least a natural course of
proceeding, however fearful in its consequences. Other powerful causes
operate to increase their hardships. In many cases, having purchased
a right of possession from the previous occupiers, they consider them-
selves to have a permanent interest in the farms for which they have
paid ; accordingly, ejectments are resented by strenuous combinations.
Outrages thus caused are frequently misrepresented, for the very worst
of purposes, as arising out of political or religious animosities ; and
hence it is, that, in the minds of those unacquainted with the peculiar
condition and circumstances of the country, prejudices, more easily
rooted than removed, are established against the religion and the poli-
tics thus stigmatized and calumniated." — vol. ii. pp. 419-22.

Would that we could place before the eyes of every candid
Englishman the foregoing sentences ! There is truth, deep
truth, in every line, and before the power of that truth the foul
mists of prejudice and bigotry would fleet as the sea-fog before
the freshening breeze.

After these and similar reflections, worthy to be written in
letters of gold, for their truth and honesty of purpose, our author
turns to the consideration of the means by which Ireland may be
raised from her present low condition. Putting aside all ques-
tions of a political nature, as foreign to his pages, he declares that
it is his impression, that, to an earnest attention to agriculture,
Ireland is to owe her regeneration. He goe^ on to approve of
the small-farm system, which has been, by many writers and
speakers, so much and hastily cried down. This system, he says,
and we deem with truth, is the consequence, and not the cause,
of evil, and is, for a time at least, most necessary for Ireland. A
specious theory htas induced some landlords, and violent political
rancour has spurred on several others, to break up their estates
into large holdings, utterly regardless of the misery, starvation.

18S8.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 415

and death they inflict upon their small tenants, and ignorant of
the gross impolicy, for their own pecuniary interests, of such a
course. Throughout the examinations of the Commissioners,
they found that the most intelligent, and those best qualified to
give a sound opinion, gave a strong and unanimous verdict in
ravour of small farms. " More produce," they stated, " was
raised per acre, and more rent paid, on such, than upon tliose of
large extent." These opinions have a merit sufficiently rare in
the doctrines of speculators in the present day — they are strictly
in accordance with the suggestions of humanity and of charity,
both of which have been so fearfully outraged by the ejectments,
destitutions and death, that mark the course of the ruthless system
of consolidation. The political economy which suggests that
system, we demur to— so far, at least, as it is attempted to be
applied to Ireland in her present condition. With its abstract
soundness or unsoundness, we have nothing immediately to do ;
and, therefore, shall not stir the question. For the present, we
agree with Mr. Binns : —

" Circumstanced as Ireland is, there must be small farmers before
tliere are large ones ; and the small farm system, apart from its imme-
diate utility, is productive of very important benefits, in a moral point
of view. It is a system of social gradation and progression ; the higher
and more advantageous positions being open to a judicious exercise of
enei^' and industrj'. By multiplying the number of those who have
an interest in the land, as holders, it is the means of diffusing a spirit of
independence and self-respect, and has an inevitable tendency to elevate
the rank of the agriculturists, in a proportion at least ecpial to the in-
crease of their physical comforts ; for they are lifted above the condi-
tion of mere senants, and established in the character of masters

It is much more profitable, even for the farmer himself, to produce a
good crop on a small quantity of land, than a middling crop on a large
extent." — vol. ii. pp. 430-431.

In different parts of the work, the system followed by Mr.
Blacker, agent to Lord Gosford, is warmly lauded and recom-
mended. It is again alluded to, in the recapitulatory chapter, as
the one on which small farms can best be managed.

" The Gosford estate, near Market Hill (county of Armagh), con-
tains 20,000 acres, and 1500 tenants, not more than 60 or 70 of which
have as much as twenty acres. Mr. Blacker first levels all the old
crooked fences, and makes straight ones, as a division between each
occupier, allotting a square piece of land, about four statute acres, to
each person ; and as the tenants were in the last stage of destitution,
he found it necessarj' to provide them Avith lime and seeds, as a loan,
without interest, opening an account with each of them on their first
entering upon the farm. A iierson calletl an agriculturist looks after
this, -weighs out the seeds, and instructs the i)eoplc in cultivation. Up-

416 Miseries and Be I uties uf Irrluni/. [April,

wards of sixty of these agriculturists have been introduced from Scot-
land, through Mr. Blaoker's means, and distributed among gentlemen
who have applied to him from various parts of Ireland. Their wages
are from £30 to £40 psr annum, including all allowances." — vol. i.
pp. 153-4.

Then follow some cases to show the difficulties the enterprizing
and meritorious gentleman alluded to had to contend with, and
a page or two after follows the rotation of crops recommended by
him. Mr. Binns states, that he and his brother assistant Com-
missioners met with numerous and satisfactory proofs of the ad-
vantages resulting from Mr. Blacker's endeavours to improve the
condition of the people. For some of these proofs, as well as for
other details, we would refer our readers to pages 159-60, &c. &c.
in the first volume. This success, however, has not been enough
for Mr. Blacker. His enterprize has led him farther, and in-
duced him to apply for the agency of the Dungannon estate in
the county of lyrone, consisting of 3000 acres, and " notorious
for the misery and disorderly conduct of its inhabitants." This
uninviting agency he obtained, and proceeded to test his princi-
ples upon the new field opened to him. In page 171 of the same
volume will be found an account of his experiments and their re-
sult, already most beneficial, and promising to be still more so,
not only to the physical, but to the moral and social condition of
the tenantry upon it. In the county Monaghan, Mr. Rose, a

{jentleman cited as " one who bears the highest character as a
andlord, and who is decidedly one of Ireland's benefactors," has
adopted much the same manner of dealing with his tenantry,
with this difference, that while Mr. Blacker gives to the poor
man a loan of lime or clover-seed, the former gives a loan of a
cow, or a pig. Some years ago, he appointed a committee of his
tenants to manage a fund of £400. for the improvement of his
estate. They supply cows at 16?. per annum, as a loan to those
who are unable to purchase. When the cow dies, the fund sus-
tains the loss, unless its death can be traced to some act or ne-
glect of the tenant in whose hands it is.

With Mr. Binns we are inclined to go far, in the matter of
small farms. But we cannot fully agree with him as to the all
importance of agriculture to our country, and its paramount
demands upon the attention of Irishmen. That it is in a ver^
low state, indeed, in Ireland at the present, and that nothing is
more desirable than that it should be carried on with greater
care and skill, we are quite ready to admit, but cannot concede
that it should engross more of our attention — that it is of greater
consequence to our future well-being — than is the spread of
jnanuiactures. Above all, his doctrine is utterly to be repudiated.

1838.] Mhfries and Beauties of Ireland. 417

tlmt the duty should be raised upon the foreign import of articles
easily to be raised at home. It is sin^i^ular tne perverse tenacity
with which, at this period of the world's enlightenment, some
men of education, awakened intellect, and informed minds, do
still cling to many obi»olete and exploded doctrines, regardless
of all experience and of the dictates of common sense. " He
who runs may read," in the economic history of nations, a
thousand instances and ways in which protections react against
those who established them. In words, the fact is admittiKl to
be so — in practice the injurious and unworthy system is all too
often imitaUKl and revived. Mr. Binns tells us, that with pro-
tections we would produce at home, tallow, butter, hemp, and
tobacco, articles for which we now pay foreigners to the amount
of six millions or upwards, and should be, with regard to them,
as we are with regard to corn, since the protection given by the
Corn Laws ; viz. that we should produce a sufficiency for home
consumption, and, besides, that we should have more land
brought into cultivation in consequence. We are not going to
enter at large into the Corn question, but on these two pomts,
on which he lays so much stress, we would ask of him what are
the indisputable facts relative to the corn restrictions. The poor
hare no ftiich nuffiriency of corn — their bread is at a price ruin-
ously high for them, and there are no louder complaints of
distress from any class of the inhabitants of England, than from
the various classes of agriculturistx. Again, it is certain that
one effect of those restrictions has been to bring into cultivation
more land than would have been devoted to corn, did they not
exist. It is, however, also certain that this is a /o/rerf cultivation;
a devoting to corn, and corn alone, every spare inch of land,
no matter how ill-suited to that crop, or how much better suited
to another. Meantime the foreigner takes his revenge, (and one
that we are often and severely made to feel) by placing restric-
tions upon our exports. The latter consist chiefly of manufac-
tured articles, which require a much greater amount of Jabour
than the raising of corn ; and thus one great source of employ-
ment is grievously impeded and obstructed in its beneficial flow.
We did not expect to find the cruel bread-tax cited favourably
by one who is evidently an anxious friend to the working classes.
Mr. Binns' grand panacea for the miseries of the lower orders,
is, the employing them in the cultivation of waste lands. Houses
of refuge he would provide for the aged and infirm — but to the
strong and able-bodied he would say : " Here are four acres of
waste land, of which you may have a lease for twenty -one years ;
you may go there, and, with such assistance as will be provided,
you and your family may find abundant employment, and live in^

418 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland, [April,

comfort." — vol. ii. p. 148. This plan he recommends first to be
tried, supplying the labourer with a little timber, to be used in
the construction of his cabin, some manure, and a few potatoes —
the system to be managed by a Board, and the people rated for
it with as little difficulty as for the maintenance of poor laws.
Of the workhouse system, he says, it is one that will require an
enormous expenditure of money to be carried into effect — that
it will be attended with great risk, and, at the best, is of very
doubtful benefit. His remarks are so thoroughly borne out by
facts, that we will quote his own words.

" If a man once enter a workhouse, and be reduced to being fed as
a pauper, his moral energies, and sense of shame and independence,
are dissipated and broken. Besides this, no comparison can be insti-
tuted between the system in England, and that contemplated to be
adopted in Ireland. In England, a workhouse may easily be made less
agreeable (independently of the loss of hberty) than a labourer's home;
in Ireland, on the contrary, what sort of habitation can you put him
in that will not be infinitely superior to his damp, dark cabin, Mhich
admits the rain and wind through various parts of the roof ? How is
he to be fed, in a workhouse, in a manner inferior to his ordinary
mode of subsistence F You can hardly deny him a sufficiency of
potatoes and salt ?" — vol. ii. p. 440-1 .

This cannot be denied to him ; yet, if he gets this miserable
sufficiency, you place him in a better position than he is at
present as an independent labourer. The Irish peasantry have
shown a more than Roman or Spartan virtue in voting as their
consciences dictated at parliamentary elections, in the face of
their tyrant landlords; and such virtue they will, on similar
occasions, show again : but it is supposing rather too exalted a
feeling, even in them, to imagine that they will continue to bear
with a privation of nearly all the necessaries of life for themselves
and their wretched families, when " a stifficiency^^ even of
potatoes and salt, is offered to them by the Poor Laws.

Our author, in working out his plan of relief, would begin
with such waste land as can be brought into cultivation without
extraordinary delay, and would reserve the deep and wet bogs
to the last. Irish bogs, he, however, allows (and in this he is
borne out by the unanimous reports of parliamentary committees,
and of private individuals, who have directed their attention to
the subject) to be peculiarly reclaimable. The objections to
attempts at reclamation, he disposes of very quickly — stating
what is the fact, that the great expenses and losses tliat have
sometimes occurred in such attempts, have been where they were
made by "gentlemen agriculturists — and when. and where did
gentlemen not lose, by cultivating, or occupying, land themselves,

18S8.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 410

whether the land were good or bad ?" (p. 444, vol. ii.) The
success of the poor man is not generally considered — yet the poor
man does succeed, whenever he gets a fair opportunity of making
the trial.

" The only rational objection that ha» been, or, in my opinion, can
be, urged, against reclamation, refers to the increased labour it obliges :
but even where labour is highest in value, the disadvantages bear no
comparison to the positive benefits. ♦ « ♦ My opinion is strongly in
favour of the possibility of a government and companies (without the
loss of a farthing) profitably employing all the unemployed labourers
upon small farms, or the waste lands. • • • Every other plan of
creating a proper energy and independence, seems likely to be attended
M'ith diflliculties and expenses of a fearfully formidable extent. When
men know they are working merely for i\\c sake of work, they never do
so with the same spirit as when en)ployed for some real and beneficial
purpose. This feeling (which constitutes^one of the distinguished differ-
ences between man and the brute creation) ought, instead of being
rudely and cruelly suppressed, to be religiously fostered and preserved ;
but within the degrading atmosphere of a workhouse, it will pine and
decay, and become extinct." — vol. ii. pp. 445-47.

The possibility of profitable cultivation of Irish wastes being
admitted, the next question is — what are the best means to this
desirable end ? At once Mr. Binns, among many others, starts
forward with an answer; Employ the pauper population upon
them. If there be waste lands, so is there plenty of waste,
unemployed labour. Turn your poor in upon those lands, as
sheep upon a common, and then you can postpone the question
of Poor I^ws for another two centuries at least. " Away,"
ejaculates Mr. Binns, " away with the absurd cry of a surplus
population, and with the equally absurd cry ot emigration."
This last scheme he denounces as ruinously expensive, as much
so as the workhouse system, so strenuously deprecated by him a
few pages before. To neither would he resort until other means
are trie<l, and found to fail, which he denies will be the case, if
a fair opening be given for the developement of her vast resources,
yet but half discovered, or suspected.

That these resources are varied, are vast, and are as yet but
half ascertained, (if so much) is most undoubtedly the case.
There has been, as yet, no search made after them in real earnest.
A country, for ages delivered up to plunder and oppression —
continually the scene of civil commotion, offering, until recently,
nothing but peril and insecurity to the timorous capitalist, with
a population of paupers, pressed and ground down to the earth
unceasingly and unmerciftilly — their mdustry nipped by fresh
exactions, ever as it tried to raise its head — their spirits broken —
a country, whose conmiercial interests were for so long a time

420 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

basely sacrificed to the fancied interests of another — and whose
landed proprietors have so uniformly deserted her, and drawn
away, to spend in foreign countries, all that every species of
tyranny could wring from the hard hands of a starving peasantry
— such a country gave little outward indication that her more
obvious natural advantages were capable of being turned to
profit ; and when these, open as they were to the most superficial
observer, were neglected, it was not to be supposed that her
latent advantages and riches — those which are to be got at but
by the exertion of man's patient industry and persevering skill —
should be speedily laid bare in their entirety, to the wonder and
admiration of those hitherto contemptuously incredulous of their
existence. But the fact of the immense extent and variety of her
resources, is now universally admitted. No country, of her size,
in the world, possesses, or could possess, more. Time, however,
is necessary for their working out. Time for this purpose is an
indispensable, and is the first requisite — even money, the all-
mover, being secondary to it, as money is only attainable in the
course of time. We contend that even the limited number of
her resources at present fully ascertained, could not be worked
out at once — at the same period. Ireland cannot rise in a
moment from the depths of destitution to the pinnacle of pros-
perity. There must be a gradual, although it may be a quick,
progression. A beginning was to be made, and has been made,
with only some of the easier-worked advantages ; and as these
bring in their return a thousand fold, we can proceed gradually
and steadily to the rest. Money, which has been called the
sinews of war, and which is also the sinews of peaceful enter-
prize, will come in time. There can be no conjuring of it up —
the old hags of the parish, in our days, are more solicitous in
asking us for money, than in teachiiig us to find it under a stone,
or transforming pieces of slate. Even the Irish Leprechaun,
that cunningest of sprites, has not of late years been heard of,
unless Mr. Nicholl has contrived to meet with him, and made
him surrender his hidden treasure to help along the Poor Law
Bill. Mr. Binns speaks with such contempt of the legends he
heard in Ireland, that we cannot suppose that at any rate he has
received promise of assistance in his projects from the exchequer
of Fairyland. Yet some such " foreign loan" is necessary, it we
are, as he advises, to set about cultivating our waste lands, and
quartering our paupers upon them. IVe have not the moneys
and not having it, the finest-looking scheme that ever was drawn
on paper, is not wortli the cost of the ink which was consumed
upon It.

Government, our author suggests, should take up the home
colonization scheme, in conjunction with private companies. He

t

18S8.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 42l

does not, however, lay before us any plan, or method, by which
to fix upon the particular companies that government is thus to
enter into a species of partnership with. Supposing, what he
proposes, to be in every other point perfectly feasible, there
arises here a difficulty that he cloes not tell us how we are to
conquer, and we readily excuse his evading to consider it,
for it appears insuperable. If it be proposed to give
aid to alt the colonization companies that may be started, the
premium of government assistance will bring an immense and
impracticable multitude into the field ; if a selection is to be
made, we ensure violent competition, rivalry, and heart burnings.
One company, we are aware, has already been formed for tne
purpose in question. Let the scheme of " assistance** be
oroached, and a thousand rivals will start up about it. How
are we to decide among these, which are to be the favoured ; —
shall there be scaled tenders, as in contracts for the shoes of a
regiment? The most impartial selection that can be made,
will create bitter murmurs and jealousies. And what is the
history, not remote and ancient, but at our own doors — in our
own times — of government assistance to companies? What
occurred in the late " Kingdom of the Netherlands ?" There,
capitalists were taken out of the herd, and especially assisted out
of the national funds. Success seemed to attend their enterprize,
and their outward appearance of high prosperity was not belied
by their actual condition. But how was that condition sup-
ported ? By repeated and exhausting draughts upon the public
coffers, and at the double expense of the people ; who had first
to pay the taxes that supplied the funds for assistance, and who
then found themselves at the mercy of the favoured manufac-
turers for the prices of their articles — all competition being des-
troyed by the powerful copartnership. A case still more in
point is in the accounts of the pauper colonies in the same
countries. A good deal of praise has been lavished upon these
institutions, but it has always been vague and in general terms,
for those who praised have laboured under the slight disadvantage
ot being utterly ignorant of how such institutions have worked.
Some years ago, when the reform now in progres in the English
Poor Law system was in contemplation, the authors of that reform
made enquiries into the systems in force in foreign countries, with
a view to gather from them, and adopt, whatever they might have
of inherent good, and avoid what nad been proved to be of a
contrary tendency. With this view, among other employes, a
Mr. Brandreth, a gentleman of talent, experience, and high
education, was directed to examine the " poor colonies" in the
Netherlands, and report upon them. The following is part of
his report.

422 Miseries and Ueautiefi of Ireland. [y\pril,

" The most favourable accounts were circulated in Holland as to
these colonies up to 1825. In 1829, a distinguished Italian, Count
Arrivabene, visited these colonies, and reported favourably of their
progress, but qualified his commendations by expressing great doubts
of the efficacy of their moral and social progress, and ultimate success.

* • When the objects of these institutions, and the philanthropic spirit
that originated and pervades all their efforts, are considered, it will doubt-
less be a matter of serious regret that they should have hitherto failed
to realize the sanguine hopes of their benevolent originators and sup-
porters. The persons admitted into the colonies were paupers, or
bordering on pauperism, not altogether invited, but compelled to enter,
under the penalty of being treated as vagabonds. The future advan-
tages of good conduct and industry were too vague and distant to
persons of their improvident habits and limited intelligence, while the
constant sense of seclusion, their eleemosynary condition, and of the
constraint under which they were living, repressed their freedom of
thought as well as action, and was adverse to their ambition to excel.

* * * The evidences were unsatisfactory as to the success of
colonies in either Belgium or Holland ; and I may farther observe,
that, while the people in general recommended those colonies to
foreigners, I do not remember meeting one individual who could point
out any specijic results, and few who would distinctly assert any in-
creasing or permanent benefit from than." — Appendix from Report of
Poor Law Commissioners, 1834.

Were we to establish home colonies, it is our " paupers, or
persons bordering on pauperism," (to use Mr. Brandreth's
words) that we should quarter upon them; and to a certain
degree there should be a compulsion to enter, " under penalty
of being treated as vagabonds;" otherwise the Irish paupers
would prefer the free, roving life they lead at present.

In the same Appendix, a letter is to be found, addressed to
Mr. Senior, whose opinions on the Poor Law question are
well known, and who was one of the Poor Law Commissioners.
The letter is from the " distinguished Italian, Count
Arrivabene," alluded to in the foregoing extract, and gives
long details relative to the colonies spoken of, and to a
certain degree commends them. But he denounces as absolute
folly the idea that by their means mendicity can be got rid of;
and the indispensable restraint which is exercised in them over
the colonists, he declares to amount to absolute, although in-
evitable, tyranny. That they are really and are likely to be
permanently beneficial, he totally denies ; and he concludes with
a most important reflection — that looking to this system in point
of profit arising from the cultivation of waste lands, (by which
profit alone could the enormous expenses the system entails be
justified) it is absurd to imagine that such a field would not long

1838.] MiAerics and /Jeaitties of Irelnnd. 42S

ago have been entered upon by private speculation, if profit
were really attainable. In these remarks he is fully coincided
with by M. Ducpetiaux, Inspector-general of prisons, hospitals,
&c., in Bel«;iuin, who gives the following picture of the actual
state of tlie pauper colonies, while discussing the suggestions
made as to means for protracting their existence.

" Aurait-on recours 4 cet effet aux emprunts ? Mais cette ressource
est plus qu'epuisee ; les garanties manquent ; le protectorat a disparu,
les terras et les batitnens, les meubles et les immeubles, sent dejd
charges dune delle qui depassede beaucoup leur I'aleur, et qui ra chaque
jour en s'accroissanl : quelle hypotheque ofFrirait-on desonnais aux
preteurs?" — Appendix from foreign communications. Poor LMwReporty
Session 1834.

This, then, is tl\e flourishing state — the successful experi-
ment—of home-colonization in the Netherlands. A ruinous
pressure of debt — a failure of the means to support the system —
a doubt, UNIVERSAL, as to any moral or social good, either
effected or likely to be so — a galling and inevitable tyranny
towards the pauj>ers — bitterness and every bad feeling generated
in their breasts. Is the prospect of all this likely to allure us
into an adoption of the mistaken scheme of which these are the
certain attendants? We have the evidence of impartial, cool-
headed, educated men, and who would gladly have proclaimed
benefits and success, if the facts had justified them. They felt
and understood, and entered into the feelings of benevolence
that suggesteil the system, but sacred truth compels them to
acknowledge that that benevolence was utterly misguided and
mistaken. And they furthermore inform us, that, not only have
these colonies not been found, after nearly twenty years of trial,
to have succeeded, but also they have never at any one time
succeeded even so far as to supersede the necessity o^ workhouses ;
the latter, in numbers, and, in addition^ actual mendicity^ having
existed throughout the whole period. Have we money for the
costly experiment of establishing these colonies and supporting
workhouses at one and the same time ? If we will spurn ana
neglect the experience of foreign countries, let us at least con-
sider our means before we rush upon the expensive scheme
before us. Would it not be well to wait at least till we see what
progress an unassisted private company may accomplish in the
worlc of reclamation, alike of waste lands, and of thriftless,
spiritless paupers ?

Mr. Binns declares his hostility to all plans for " emigration;"
and certainly if they involve, as he says they necessarily must
do, greater expenses than his own proposition of home-coloniza-
tion, he has reason in his hostility. It is unfortunate that so

424 Miseries and Beauties of Indund. [April,

many fair-looking and most excellent theories of relief are
doomed to fall to the ground for the want of that vile dross —
money. One thing alone is wanting to the establishment of a
most extensive and beneficial scheme of emigration, and that one
thing is money — money, be it understood, not raised by taxation
from the countries we would relieve by such emigration. That
taxation is unfortunately yet more oppressive than the burthen
we endeavour to remove. We fairly confess that to us, the

f)ropositions of " home-colonization," " emigration," or " poor
aws," unconnected with either, seem all alike impracticable, and
chiefly and principally on the ground of hopeless deficiency of
pecuniary means to work them to any but a very limited extent.
The poor-law theorists tell us of the immense amount tpnsted^ as
they say, in voluntary charity at present; but how do they
propose to get a legislative enactment for anything like this
amount ? A thousand obstacles are in their way. In the first
place, is the natural reluctance of human beings to give^ when
they Are forced to give. Again, the present donations arie, in a
very great proportion, relief in kind, relief in food, &c. In
instances innumerable, the poor landholder has been known to
cultivate half an acre more than will supply his family, and this
surplus is intended for the poor. This is the way in which he
can best afford to give charity ; and, indeed, generally speaking,
the only way. This cannot be touched by the legislature. The
classes to be relieved are at present very numerous, indeed
frightfully so ; but a terrible addition will be made on the
establishment of poor laws. At once the pauper roll will be
fearfully swelled by the vast class denominated " strugylers,"
who are now fighting a life and death battle against destitution,
and who will readily and gladly give up their desperate and
life-wearing efforts when they are assured of a provision by law
for themselves and their families. The experience of England
ought to warn us against pauper legislation. After three cen-
turies of the establishment of a legal provision for the poor, a
good system has not yet been found out, and strong and in-
creasing doubts exist as to the possibility of any system being
good. Were poor laws sound in principle, this would not be
the case. The late " amendment" of them, consists, in the
main, of a reduction of their enactments, and is in fact as near
an approach to their total abolition, as could well be made in a
country whose inhabitants are so long accustomed to a legal
provision for the poor. A maxim strongly and earnestly laid
down by the promoters of the " amendment," is, that the condi-
tion of the pauper under relief ought to be inferior to the con-
dition of the independent labourer. We have, in a former page,

1888.] Miseries and /beauties of Ireland. 495

said with Mr. Binns, that this is impossible in Irelnnd, where
the labourer's condition has nothing below it, short of actual
starvation. If proof be required, we refer the reader to our
author*8 volumes, where, at almost every tenth page, the wages
and condition of the working peasantry in various parts, are
accurately detailed and described.

Legislation for the poor in England began in no kindly feel-
ings towards them. 1 ne Poor Law Commissioners state in their
report, that " the great object of early pauper legislation seems to
have been the repression of vagrancy." '1 he feudal lords sought
to restrain their vassals from fl>'ing to corporate towns, to escape
their thraldom and find protection under the municipal pri-
vileges. To remedy this, the " statute of labourers" was passed
in 135L By it not only the personal liberty of the agricultural
{X)pulation was put under severe restraints, but their tcages were
sought to be definitively settled and fixed. In the years 1376
and 1378, complaints were renewed in parliament of the escape
of vassals and their finding protection in corporate towns, and
this notwithstanding several acts of Edward the Third, by which
it was vainly endeavoured to enforce the statute of labourers.
Tills iniquitous statute was found, like all such, quite inoperative
for the end for which it was intended, but at the same time
copiously productive of misery to the wretched people. But
centuries had to roll over ere the legislature would abandon its
endeavours to fetter industry. Tne reign of Richard the
Second, and the succeeding reigns, present a long list of acts,
more or less restrictive of personal liberty, and more or less
interfering with industry. The natural consequence of this
unholy crusade of the rich against the poor followed — the lower
classes, met at every step by searching and grinding tyranny,
either gave up, or were forced greatly to relax, their exertions
for subsistence, and the land was crowded with the destitute and
the discontented. Then the harsh and despotic spirit, that
dictated the ruinous restrictions, got full scope for its cruelty,
and vagrancy was punished by laws of which it has been well
said, that " with the single exception of scalping, they equalled
the worst atrocities ever practised by the North American
Indians upon their prisoners." {^Eden's History of the Poor,)
Whipping " until the Ixnly be bloody" — boring with a hot iron,
the compass of an inch, through the gristle of tne ear — branding
in the face and on the shoulder — cropping the ears — being
adjudged a slave for two years, and, (in case of attempts at escape)
slavery for life — chaining, and finally death as a felon — these
were the mild and paternal methods of treating the j)oorer
classes, that marked the earlier history of Poor Laws, and that

VOL. IV. — no. VIII. 8 F

426 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

indeed continued, in a modified degree, to be used until not a
very remote period from our own time.

When the productive classes were thus trodden down, it is not
to be wondered at if these laws increased the evils they were
meant to remove. Confessions began to appear in the preambles
of the new acts, of the utter inefficacy of those that preceded
them. The statutes against vagrancy were altered, amended,
remodelled, and multiplied, and, pari passu, the multitude of
the poor increased. Meanwhile, the slender provisions these
laws contained for the relief of the impotent, remained without
addition for an immense time. Notwithstanding the gross im-
perfections of the social institutions, and their consequence, the
thousand-fold increase of pauperism, voluntary charity did much
to relieve the destitute. The commissioners whom the rapacious
Henry the Eighth appointed to enquire into the state of the
monasteries, sent him with their report an earnest recommenda-
tion that the subjects of their enquiries should not be dissolved,
because of the good they did the poor ; and when subsequently
a bill was brought into parliament for their dissolution, it con-
tained a promise that their revenues should continue to be
devoted to purposes of charity. But this promise was at once
broken, when the end for which it was made was attained, and
compulsory relief was introduced. Statute after statute was
enacted to enforce it, until, in the forty-third year of the reign of
Elizabeth, the famous and much vaunted act was passed which
is considered as properly the foundation of the laws for the relief
of the poor. This act is the theme of much and loud praise, and
accordmg to many theorists we have but to recur to it, to find a
sure and safe guide in establishing poor laws in Ireland ; yet if it
were so intrinsically excellent, why has it not been solely con-
fided in, in England? Why were there complaints almost
immediate against it, and why have so many attempts at amend-
ing it been made? It is true it gave for a short space relief —
but let it be recollected, that for several years preceding, the
seasons had been very bad, and a great and extensive dearth
prevailed. A change occurred — the three or four succeeding
seasons were good, and all their benefits were ascribed to the
influence of this panacea, the forty-third of Elizabeth. But this
state of things did not last long. So early as the seventh year
of the reign of James the First, poor laws were deemed, in the
words of a statute then passed, to " operate as a premium upon
idleness." During the protectorate of Cromwell, wars, domestic
and foreign, drew public attention from the subject. Under
Charles the Second additional acts were passed, altering, amend-
ing, &c. &c., the system of pauper legislation — the preambles of

18S8.] Mheriea and Beauties of Ireland. 4Sft

each confessing the worse than uselessness of former enactments,
and ever complaining of the still progressing increase of pauper-
ism. This confession and complaint were re|)eated over and
over again in the reignj of James the Second and William
die Third, the latter oi whom declared in his first speech from
tlie Uirone, that poor laws had been effective only in the
multiplication of objects needing relief. During the reigns of
Anne and the Georges, a myriad of acts of parliament, crowding
one upon another, proclaimed to the world that no effective plan
was yet discovered to give real relief and stop the appalling
increase of destitution. Meantime, throughout the period from
the Restoration down, a host of writers were busy proclaiming
the same melancholy fact. Clarendon, Sir Joshua Childe, the
keen-witted and penetrating De Foe, Fielding, and many others,
all acknowledged it, and all and eacli vainly sought to suggest a
remedy, while no two of them could agree upon the same, nor
indeed upon any point but on that of the before-mentioned fact
itself. It is worth while to quote Fielding's words, as given by
Sir Frederick Eden in his History of Poor Laws. Writing in
the year 1753, Fielding says, "Ihat the poor are a very great
burthen and even a nuisance to this kingdom ; that the laws for
relieving their distress, &c., have not answered their purposes,
are truths which every man will acknowledge. Such have been
the unanimous complaints of all writers from the days of Queen
Elizabetli down ; such is the sense of the legislature., and such
is the unirersal voice of the nation." The words of Fielding are
true in the present day. In our time, enlightened as we deem
it to be, and advanced in every species of knowledge, the real
panacea is yet unknown. A poor law reform of a sweeping
nature has been devised, and is slowly coming into operation.
As yet no general opinion can be pronounced upon it, but this
much may be remarked in passing, that where as yet any benefits
have resulted from it, they are traceable more to the doing away
of some of the old multifarious provisions than to any new and
positive enactment. We venture to prophecy that the tendency
of future amendments will be to annihilate still more of the old
provisions, until gradually the English people shall be weaned
from the tainted sources where they have so long been mocked
with a false nourishment, and at length the abhorred compound
of tyranny, selfishness, hard-hearteaness, hypocrisy, and moral
and social degradation, which constitutes the poor law code, shall
be exposed to the execration of the world.

The space we have devoted to the hasty review we have given
of the history of legislation for the poor, can scarcely be said to
be taken from our proper subject, when wc are considering with

2 f2

428 Miseries and Beauties of Irehind. [April,

Mr. Binns the various remedies proposed for the " miseries of
Ireland." We agreed with him in douhting the efficacy, and
dreading the expense, of a regular government system of emigra-
tion— we differed with him upon his own scheme, and differed
toto ccelo. But we find ourselves again in accord with him, in
reprobating Poor Laws, and go to his full extent and farther in
that reprobation. We distrust all attempts at compulsory relief.
Differing thus from him and others, it is in some measure in-
cumbent on us to state to what means we do look for relief to
the poverty of Ireland. It is vain for Mr. Binns to seek to
consider the economic condition of Ireland apart from her poli-
tical state. The one is and has been in close dependence upon
the other. Her present misery, her former sufferings, both
alike proceeded from misgovernment. Those now in power are
manfully struggling to remedy some of the evil effects of that
misgovernment, and to give " jiistice to Ireland." But their
best efforts are crippled and often baffled by the base faction
who were so long the tyrants of that unhappy coinitry. One
branch of the legislature is in the hands of that faction, and
every good and healing measure is either stopped there in its
progress, or not suffered to pass, until it is but a skeleton of
what it was at the outset. This obstacle must be removed.
England is beginning to recognize the rights and feel repent-
ance and sorrow for the wrongs of the sister island. The tide
has turned, and the blessed stream of kindliness and benevolence
at length is setting our way. Its flow must not be impeded — it
is time the vile barrier should be knocked away, if it be not
voluntarily withdrawn. Let full justice be done to Ireland. Let
continual attention be given to her internal affairs, as is given to
those of the two other countries of this realm. Support public
works if you will, but let them be those of a nature likely to be
permanently beneficial, not such as call into action for a limited
period a vast amount of labour, and then, when completed, leave
that labour a drug in the market, thereby occasioning greater
misery than before. Give the people of Ireland a share and an
influence in the management of their own corporations, of the
levying rates out of their own pockets, and the distribution of
the products— extend the franchise and protect the poor voter
from his tyrant landlord, by the shield of the secret ballot — free
commerce from its restrictions — improve harbours and open
roads —give free play everywhere to industry and enterprise.
Meantime provide hospitals and houses of refuge for those sick
of contagious disorders, for incurables, and for the maimed, and
support liherally these institutions. All these mak^ up the pro-

1838.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 429

visions of the 8i)Ocies of Poor Law we would propose, and surely
it would be well to try what these would effect, before we venture
upon tlie doubtful and perilous experiment of the laws that
Knglund for upwards of tnree centuries has been vainly enact-
ing, altering, remodelling, and has not yet succeeded in reducing
into a beneficial, or even a harmless code. Let us remember, if
we hastily adopt Poor Laws, that that step once taken, many a
lon^ year must elapse before we can retrace it, if we find it to be
an mjurious and pernicious one. The people once accustomed
to these laws, will not easily give them up, and thus we may
rashly entail misery and degradation upon generations yet
unborn.

Turning from this painfully interesting subject to Mr. Binns'
remarks upon other matters, we find that gentleman strangely at
variance with Mr. Nicholls, (tlie author of the present Irish Poor
\jSlw Bill,) on the subject of the marriages of the Irish peasantry.
The latter gentleman has declared it to be quite a mistake to
sup{)ose those marriages take place at a very early age of the
))arties, and informs us that both in England and Scotland pre-
mature wedlock is far more common. Mr. Binns' ex|)erience is
all the other way, and he gives the evidence to this effect of
various persons, indifferent of the places where the examinations
were conducted. In one case, in the barony of Fews Lower,
in the county of Armagh, he heard of a man, " the joint ages of
whose father and mother, on the day of their marriage, did not
amount to thirty-one ! " We believe our author has the fact on
his side, in saying that the Irish marry very early; but this
practice is far from being of the mischievous tendency some
theorists declare it to be. One great benefit results from it in
Ireland at least — a young man is saved from much temptation
and vice, and gets an additional impulse towards exertion and
industry, while the hardships he encounters on entering life are
lightened and solaced by tl)e companion he has chosen. " The
women," observes one witness, " are generally careful ; tliey
may in many ways make a man comfortable." 'Hie young
couple afford a home to their parents in their old age — ** it is
common for them to have their parents living with them." —
(p. 57, vol. i.) The person who informed Mr. Binns of the
very early marriage in Armagh county, (to which, by the way,
several jjarallels are noticed in other places,) added, "that a
man who has no wife and family is far less highly esteemed than
one who possesses tliem." The same is the case m other i)arts of
Ireland, and this would not be so if early marriages were su
deeply injurious and ruinous in their tendency as is generally
supposed.

430 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

The following extracts are a good antidote to the Torj' calum-
nies on the Irish people : —

" Their disposition is most confiding, when the conduct of the land-
lord, whatever be his politics or religion, is regulated by honourable
principles. This confidence in their superiors, is one among many
proofs of the docility of the Irish, and the ease with which they may be

governed Their misery is borne with cheerfulness ; they are

uniformly polite and hospitable, and ever ready to communicate any
information it may be in their power to supply. Their submission to
their hard destiny is remarkable. On one occasion, a woman remarked
to me, ' that they had hard fare and disappointments, but God pre-
pared the back for the burthen.' By way of giving them some little
comfort, I frequently remarked, that they and their children were far
more healthy than the rich ; they would cry, * God so ordered it for

the poor !' (pp. 84-, 89. vol. i.) The Irish are a patient, as well

as an oppressed people, or they would not so long have submitted to
the hardships they endure . . . The inhabitants of the County Tipperary
have been considered the most ferocious, but I felt as safe there as in
England. It is only under deep injury that the people seek revenge.

(p. 62, vol. ii.) I was much gratified to hear from Mr. Bolton,

(agent to Lord Stanley's estate in the just-named county) that the
people were docile and easily managed, and that although he was
living in the heart of what is thought the most turbulent part of the
kingdom, and had occasion to travel at all hours, he had never been
disturbed, or intimidated, and did not feel the slightest apprehension.
This is a strong additional proof, that if a conciliatory policy, in unison
with the great principles of Christianity, were uniformly adopted both
by the legislature and by individuals, towards the people of Ireland, dis-
turbances would in a great measure cease, and extensive police and
military establishments be rendered unnecessary." — (p. 163, vol. ii.)

The recent charge of Judge Moore, at the Spring Assizes, for
the same county, is the best comment on this prediction : —

" Under providence, said his Lordship, Tipperary is fast approaching
a state becoming the finest county and population in Ireland . . . The
disinclination to prosecute, if not for ever crushed, is fast disappearing
— the law has been enforced ; no longer do we hear of those deadly
brutalizing battles formerly of such common occurrence — peace and
order prevail."

The common accusation of great addiction to drunkenness in
the Irish people, Mr. Binns throws discredit upon in numerous
parts of his work ; and his authority is the more to be respected,
as he examined very carefully into the grounds on which it was
made. Indeed, in general he seems to have formed a good and
kind opinion of the people among whom he was ; but that opinion
has occasionally a little alloy ; as, for instance, where, in pages 98,
140, 279, &c. of vol. i. and 24, 36, &c. of vol. ii. he accuses them

1888.] Miseries and Beauties of IreUtnd. 431

of credulity and superstition. Without denying that among
them, as among the uneducated of every country, credulity and
superstition do exist, we confidently say that it is in a much inferior
degree to what appears to strangers. In the first place strangers,
especially Englishmen, coming to Ireland, bring over with tliem
a firm conviction that the Irish are pre-eminently superstitious
and credulous. This conviction is the result of the million mis-
representations and calumnies, with which ignorance or hostility,
or both, have filled the pages of English writers upon Irish
affairs. To a person thus involuntarily, but obstinately prejudiced,
every trivial circumstance gives "confirmation strong" of his old
impressions. A singular feature in the Irish character tends to
add to this delusion. A strong and deep under-current ot
satirical humour pervades that cliaracter, bursting forth in a
dark and bitter flood under the pressure of wrong and tyranny ;
but, in moments of merriment and ease, venting itself in a light
and sparkling stream. Then all things around are made matters
of jest, and tne peculiarities of indiviauals are probed and played
upon, with a quiet but keen and exquisite humour ; while the
person submitted to the process is all unconscious of it, and
thinks, "good easy man," full sure he is himself laying bare and
detecting the salient points of ridicule in the strange people he is
among. It is thought that this inclination to search out food for
laughter, is a dangerous quality to its possessors, as inducing to
levity upon the great, as well as on the minor occasions of life,
(ancl it must be confessed that the habit and love of looking at
the ludicrous side of things are sometimes pushed very far) ; yet
it is to be remembered that but for this constitutional tendency
to "daffthe world aside" and all its cares, with a jest and a laugh,
the Irish peasant would succumb to the spirit-crushing misfortunes
of which he has been, and still is, but too frequently the prey.
Mr. Binns has met with his share of "quizzing," and we cannot
refrain from ouoting one instance that has just caught our eye.
Upon his roaa to Magherhafelt, in the county of Londonderry,
he noticed, as he informs us, the absence o( tyiile-xtones. The
driver of the vehicle, on which he was, had too much of the
genuine Irish peasant about him to be for one moment at a loss
for an answer, and he accordingly gave the satisfactory reply :
" That the old mile-stones had just been taken up, and the new
ones had not as yet been put down." A thousand similar good
and sufficient reasons are daily offered to the matter-of-fact minds
of English enquirers, and swallowed, for a time at least, with an
easiness that delights Uie secret souls of their ingenious, but not
alway very ingenuous, informants. We must beg Mr. Binns'

432 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

pardon for setting him down in the class of " mystified," when he
tells us the following : —

" Extraordinary stories were related to me of bloody fights for the
bodies of St. Patrick, and other saints ; and in order o appease the
people, of St. Patrick having thrust his hand through the earth to prove
that he was at Downpatrick. These stories are related with the most
perfect gravity, and apparent zeal." — vol. i. p. l^S.

And again, shortly after :

" Some of the credulous Irish have a tradition, that the Isle of Man
was formed out of the land scooped out of the space now filled by
Lough Neagh," &c. — p. 274.

We do not mean to deny that in former times credit was given
by the Irish peasantry to the idle tales they now relate in jest —
the peasantry of every country, and the higher classes also, were
credulous and superstitious in former times. But we do mean to
deny that the Irish do now attach credit to the fairy tales that
they tell with " most perfect gravity^'' when they perceive

" A chiel's amang them takin' notes.
And faith he'll prent it."

The authors of those amusing compilations, which from time
to time appear, professing to detail the fanciful belief of the
Irish in beings oi unearthly nature, are quite as often indebted
to their own imaginations for the wild and grotesque legends they
narrate, as to what they have actually gatnered from the lips of
parties to whom they ascribe the belief. We cannot suppose that
Mr. Binns, who, in several parts of his book, so well and feelingly
urges the great precepts of charity and mutual forbearance,
meant to include under the title of "degrading superstitions"
that which is included under such ahead by many of the holiday
tourists that visit Ireland to slander and vilify her. We allude to
the religion of her people. It has been the tolerant custom to
denounce the Catholic religion as a superstition, but as we do not
think our author intended to adopt such a mode of speaking of the
religious belief of his fellow-men, it is not necessary to dilate
farther on the subject.

Acquitting him o{ wilful bigotry, and giving the ample credit
he deserves for his evident kindliness of feeling, and his sound
and enlightened remarks on the holinessof mutual charity, as well
as on matters of mundane policy, we turn to what he does permit
himself to remark as to the faith of the Irish people, and the
conduct of their pastors.

" It is notorious that the blessings that are ever found to result from
a free and unmolested perusal of the bible, are often denied to the

1888.] Miseries and Heauties of Ireland. 488

poor and unlearned members of the Roman Catholic communion.
Except in the company of their priests, or when attending divine
worship in tlieir chapels, they are forbidden to consult the Scriptures ;
thus being excluded from one of the richest sources of instruction and
comfort. Besides, apart from the evil of intertlicting the popular use
of the Scriptures, in a spiritual point of view, the prohibition is objec-
tionable on another ground. It imposes on those who submit to it, a
yoke of mental slavery. As long as a people submit to a dictation of
this sort, they are unfit for the successful execution of great enterprizes.
But in spite of the interdiction of the priests, the Catholics, I believe,
will not be prevented from reading the Scriptures. In one place I
visited, I was told by a most respectable gentleman, that such had been
the anxiety of several poor Catholic families in his neighbourhood to
'search the Scriptures ' in consequence of relations from their children
of })assage8 they had read at the schools of the Board, that, in defiance
of the risk they ran, fhey had actually obtained bibles ; and Mr.
Blacker, at the conclusion of his ' Claims of the Landed Interests,' gives
the following information : ' I have been lately assured by a Protestant
clergyman, that he had it from good authority that Koman Catholics
were now meeting by stealth, at night, to read the Scriptures, in a
district where Popery seemed thoroughly to predominate." — vol. ii.
p. 228.

As to Mr. Blacker's statement (or, more properly, the state-
ment of Mr. Blacker's anonymous informant, on equally anony-
mous " good autharity") it is but one of the thousand " astonishing
proofs of the spread of the Gospel in Ireland," that are to be
found every day in the Tory papers, and that are deficient in
but three nnportant requisites, dates^ namest and truth. Mr.
Binns is mistaken. It is not notorious that Catholics are not
allowed to read the Bible. They are forbidden indeed to read
the Protestant version, because the Catholic Church believes, and
has tl>e clearest evidence to prove, that that version was in
very many places wilfully corrupted. Catholics may read the
version their Church approves of, and to which she has added
notes and conmientations to assist the judgment ; for she re-
pudiates the idea that every person — the uneducated as well as
the etlucated — tlie obtuse of mind as well as those of keen
perceptions — the weak and unstable as well as the sound and
solid rcasoner — can all alike interpret for themselves the obscure
and difficult passages of the Holy Writings. The vast variety
and gradation of intellect, character, and education, to be found
in the human race, have the eflfect of producing an equal variety
of opinion on questions of civil policy and other matters of
universal interest; yet it is held that on one point, — the highest,
most imi>urtant, and difficult of all — the question of religious
belief — a harmony and accordance of opinion and of decision is

484 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

attainable by the unassisted efforts of each human mind, working
by itself, apart from the mass, and from all counsel and support.
But perfect harmony, it is stated, is notrequiretl, except upon the
foundation truths of religion. Has even this been attained? if
so, then why are there Anabaptists, Owenites, Southcotites,
Atheists, and a thousand other designations? The Catholic
Church provides for her children guidance and counsel — she
traces the succession of her heads from the Apostles ; and from
them transmits down, through the long reach of 1800 years, the
unchanged unchanging interpretations of the Sacred Volume ;
and long as time shall last, she will still transmit that interpreta-
tion to every successive generation of her children, as their chart
and compass, pointing out the one true course over the darksome
waters of existence, to the secure and blessed haven of eternal
happiness.

Besides this grand accusation of Mr. Binns, he accuses the
priests of the north of Ireland especially, of " want of charity ;"
and states that " they and their flocks entertain towards those of
the opposite faith, a deep-rooted and unchristian prejudice"
Were the case so, it ought scarcely to be wondered at, wtien both
pastors and flock are and have been treated with such contempt,
oppression, and insult, by " those of the opposite faith," — Protes-
tant clergy and Protestant laity, both landlords and lower orders.
Orange processions, sanctioned and patronized, — corps of orange-
men, not only suffered to drill and arm themselves, but encou-
raged and cheered on to " wreck" and devastate the little
property of Catholics, — to insult and outrage their religious
belief and religious ceremonies, and put in peril the lives of them-
selves and their families, — these are the fostering kindnesses that
Catholics receive at the hands of " those of the opposite faith" in
the north. Is it strange that they are not very grateful for such
treatment ?

" Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ;
You spurned me such a day ; another time
You called me — dog ; and for these courtesies,
I'll lend you thus much monies ?"

For such " courtesies" as we have described, we do not think
much gratitude is due from Catholics ; but we do not, however,
grant that they entertain the unchristian prejudice Mr. Binns
speaks of. We fear he is the unconscious retailer of calumnies
he heard from those who hate the Catholics and their religion.
He has been among men like Mr. Blacker — in politics heated
partizans — and their exaggerated and unfounded stories (the off-
spring of that unforgiving natred which rankles in the breasts of
those " who have done the wrong ;" the offspring, tOo, of fear —

1888.] Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. 480

cowardly fear — of Uie consequences of their own and their pre-
decessors' ill-treatment of the people among whom their lot was
cast), these stories have been poured like a deadly poison into
Mr. Binns's mind, perverting his natural good judgment, and
prejudicing him, despite of himself. A saniple of the nature of
the information sometimes given him (and, indeed, another in-
stance, and, in this case, a malignant one, of tlie species o( my stir-
^fictttion we have before said to be common in Ireland towards
ready-believing strangers), is in his second volume, where he tells
us he learned that, at Philipstown (King's county), peace and
order prevail, " not MOIvE than eight or nine rrotestants
having been murdered in affrays connected with religion during
the last fourteen years." (vol. ii. p. 65.) We regret to be obliged
to say, that among those of Mr. Binns's own communion — the
Society of Friends — we mean the Irish portion of that Society —
are some, and many', of the most deep and inveterate enemies
and calumniators of Ireland and her unfortunate people. Their
conduct is very much unlike that of the members of the same
most respectable society in England, where the great and con-
stant characteristics of the body are charity, liberality, philan-
throphvj in its most energetic degree, as so abundantly testified
in a thousand ways, and pre-eminently by their whole-hearted
and self-devoting exertions m favour of the Negroes. Honour to
the body that produces such men as Joseph Sturge, who twice
gave up his home, his country, and his ease, to brave the dangers
of the climate, and the persecutions of the culprit planters, to
ascertain with his own eyes, and report to the world, the real
condition of the " apprenticed labourers" in the West Indies !

We gladly leave the unpleasant subject we have been discuss-
ing, and turn to our author's allusions to, and descriptions of,
Irish scenery and objects of interest. The following is his deci-
sion on the much-agitated question, whether are the Irish or the
English lakes superior in point of beauty ?

" Having seen the Lakes of Killarney, I wa& enabled to draw a com-
parison for myself between them and the rest of the Irish lakes and the
celebrated lakes of the north of England. Lough Neagh, the largest
of all the Irish lakes, would be altogether uninteresting, were it not for
its immense extent, and for the pebbles, petrifactions, and plants, scat-
tered upon its shores. Lough Erne, the next in size, certainly surpasses
Windermere, as a lake, in the neighbourhood of which, art and nature
are united with consummate felicity; and Lake Killikeen, and the other
lakes of Cavan, are, from thf ir number, as well as their vsiriety and
beauty, certainly entitled to take high rank among the lakes of the
* Emerald Isle.' Lough Gilly, though comparatively unimportant, when
considered in reference exclusively to size, is a charming spot, infinitely
superior, iu luy opiuion, to Lough Eruc. The Islands on it are bolder,

436 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

the shores not so flat, and more variously indented ; and the mountains
seen from its bosom, far surpass, in diversity of character and outline,
those that encompass the latter lake. It also has a charm in its luxu ■
riant arbutus, that Lough Erne cannot pretend to. But the Lakes of
Killarney, attractive as many of the others unquestionably are, exceed
them all in variety, boldness, and beauty. None of the Lakes in either
Cumberland, Westmoreland, or Lancashire, will bear a comparison with
these. . . .Those who have not seen the Lakes of Killarney, can form
no adequate idea of the abundance and exquisite loveliness of the ar-
butus there." — vol. ii. pp. 115-19, &c.

Mount Melleray, the seat of the order of the Trappists in Ire-
land, he thus describes : —

" Being provided with a note of introduction to the Rev. Mr. Ryan,
the superior of the Trappist settlement at Mount Melleray, I set off to
inspect that most interesting and singular establishment Mount Mel-
leray (a name given by the monks themselves), is situated near Cappo-
quin, in the midst of a vast tract of barren heath, on the side of the
Knockmeledown Mountains, which were covered with snow. The
buildings are of immense magnitude ; and though certainly striking
from the loneliness of their position, and deeply interesting from the
associations connected with the history of their inhabitants, have nothing
to recommend them as specimens of architectural beauty. They strongly
reminded me of the drawings of the Hospices on the Alps. Mr. Ryan
received me w ith great politeness, and shewed every disposition to com-
municate information on the subject which had induced me to obtrude
upon his privacy. In 1831, it appears, seventy -eight monks, who, for
fifteen years, had lived happy and contented under a M. Saulmer, em-
ployed in cultivating the barren lands of Brittany, were forcibly ex-
j)elled from the Monastry of La Trappe of Melleraye, their expulsion
being accompanied with acts of brutal violence, ' attended,' (to use the
words of Mr. Ryan,) * by many atrocious circumstances, based upon
accusations the most stupid and calumnious.' On arriving in Ireland,
Sir Richard Keane granted them, at a nominal rent, 600 statute acres
of moor and bog-land, on a lease of one hundred years. This they in-
stantly began to cultivate ; they, at the same time, began to raise their
extensive buildings; and it is a remarkable fact, a Jacf, by the way,
that speaks with singular emphasis against the Indispensableness of a
compulsory Church, that, though possessed of only one sixpence on their
arrival, they raised, within the short space of three years, a series of
structures that would have cost, if paid for at the usual value of work,
not less than £10,000. They were, however, gratuitously assisted in
their stupendous undertakings (for such they may indeed be called) by
the people on every side. In a country where tithe has nearly ceased
to be collected, a small company of religious men, sixty in number,
have succeeded, though penniless, in converting a wilderness into a fer-
tile place, and in raising an immense and costly habitation. This can
only be accounted for by the fact, that the religion they professed was
the religion of the people, and that the people honoured ftnd respected

18S8.] Miseries and fieaittics of Ireland. 487'

them for the virtues that adorned it. The monks of Mount Melleray,
when I visited their establishment, had 120 acres under cultivation,
yielding fine crops of rye, oats, turni]Y8, and potatoes. Their gardens,
too, abound in every variety of vegetables. They have planted, more-
over, 120,000 forest trees; so that, in a few years, the face of the
country, so lately brown and bare of beauty, will be covered with ver-
dure. Besides the land granted to the Trappists, Sir Richard Keane
had 5000 acres of bog, all of which was untenanted and uncultivated.
Since the settlement of the monks, however, the whole of it has become
tenanted, and is now undergoing cultivation. Buildings are springing
up on every side, and the barren waste is gradually changing into a
fruitful and smiling land."

In common with all visitors of late years to Ireland, Mr.
Binns made it a point to go to Darr\nane Abbey, the seat of
Mr. O'Connell, M.P. for Dublin. His description of it is full,
and contrasts favourably with the descriptions given by other
tourists, some of whom seem to wish to avail themselves of Mr.
O'Connell's hospitality, in order to abuse it.

" Old castles al>ound in the course of the drive from Kenmare ; and
from the high moors, about two miles before we arrive at the descent
to Darrynane, an extensive and noble prospect is commanded. The
mighty Atlantic bounds this magnificent view, which includes, among
other objects, the mouth of the Kenmare River, — the Islands of Scarifi"
and Dinish, rising abruptly out of the ocean, — the rocks called the
Bull, Cow, and Calf, at the extremity of the peninsula that divides
Bantry Bay from Kenmare River, — and, lastly, Darrynane House, and
the ruins of Darrynane Abbey, reposing at the foot of the mountains,

on the borders of Kenmare River, near the open sea It was on a

Saturday evening I arrived at Darrynane, and having left my introduc-
tion to the proprietor, along with some other papers, in Dublin, I had
an opportunity of proving the statements made to me as to hospitality.
I had, in fact, no other introduction to Darrynane Abbey, than that I
was a stranger and an Englishman ; but these were amply sufllicient. .
. . . .The day on which I arrived was a fast-day, the table was admirably
supplied with a variety of fish, and some excellent Kerry mutton for the
use of Protestant strangers. Fourteen different kinds of fish, caught
clo«e to the place, are frequently on the table at the same time. The
coBKt abounds with fish — as many as thirty turl)ot have been caught at
one draught. Darrynane Abbey is an extensive pile of buildings,
erected at different periods, and without regard to any particular order
of architecture, or uniformity of plan. Convenience, and the comfort
of his guests, seem to have guided Mr. O'Connell in the enlargement of
his mansion. In front stretches a garden, at the end of which is a fine
natural lawn of short soft grass— in spring and summer the scene of
various sports and pleasant recreative exercises. The sea, which here
forms a small bay, comes close up to the lawn. 'I'he sands are firm and
clean, and the waves, which struck me as of a remarkably emerald hue,
are interrupted in their majestic progress by picturesque rocks. A

438 Miseries and Beautiea of Ireland. [April,

rookery presents a scene of perpetual animation to the north of the
house ; and in the same direction are extensive plantations, containing
rustic bowers, tastefully designed, and winding walks, by the side of
clear brooks. All these, of course, I saw under considerable disadvan-
tages, it being winter ; yet I saw enough to convince me that Darrynane
is a lovely spot. The air is peculiarly wholesome ; and during my stay,
a letter was received from Mr. O'Connell, anticipating the enjoyments
of his native place, and speaking with delight of deriving from its
healthy climate a good stock of health, to enable him to stand the poli-
tical war. When at Darrynane, hunting is his favourite exercise ; and
I was informed he climbs the rugged mountains after his favourite pack
of beagles, with all the untiring activity and buoyancy of youth.". . . .

Having gone with the parish priest to the parish chapel of
Darrynane, Mr. Binns was —

" Much struck with the devoted manner of the congregation, not
only in that lonely chapel, but in every part of Ireland. They who
sneer at the religion of Roman Catholics, would forego their contempt,
if they saw the consolation derived from the despised faith of their
fathers by the half-starved Irish. As a Protestant, I dissent from many
of the doctrines of the Church of Rome ; but having seen the power of
those doctrines over the hearts and conduct of their votaries, I am ad-
monished not to mingle my dissent with uncharitableness. . . .The minis-
ter of this congregation was a man of humble pretensions, but indus-
trious and zealous in his calling. . . .His unostentatious dwelling was a
very humble cabin, such as few labourers in England would consent to
live in, and his labours immense. . . .The congregation were remarkably
clean and respectable-looking, and are a stout and healthy people.
They believe their ancestors to have been of Spanish origin, and feel
some pride in the antiquity of their descent From this feeling of
family pride, Mr. O'Connell himself is not quite free; making use of
the circumflex over the ' 0,' as indicative of Spanish origin." — vol ii.
pp. 343, 347, 349.

The circumjlex over the " O" in Mr. O'Connell's name, we
understand is meant as a contraction of an Irish word signifying
" the son of,''' and not as evidence of Spanish origin. At the
same time, Mr. Binns is quite right in saying that there are
many marks of a Spanish race among the southern peasantry
of Ireland, and also in Galway, the likeness of which to a Spanish
town has forcibly struck many visitors. The simple cause is
this, that a very long continued, and, for the times, a very inti-
mate intercourse ana correspondence, existed between the shores
of Ireland and the northern coast of Spain ; and warlike adven-
ture, or, more frequently, mercantile enterprize, continued this
intercourse and correspondence, from a remote period, down to
so late as the middle of the last century. The extent and strength
of these relations between the two countries, are, comparatively
speaking, very little known in the present day, and, indeed, were

1838.] Miseries and lieautles of Ireland. 489

80 in a very limited degree to the various English historians and
writers upon Ireland during past ages.

We have not left ourselves room to notice other remarks upon
scenery, and descriptions of objects worth visiting, in Ireland ;
but for them, and other matters and topics of general interest,
we refer our readers to the book itself. The two volumes are
decorated with a few lithographs from the author's personal
sketches, and they are of a character to excite a wish tliat Mr.
Biims had used his pencil more. We have said in the beginning
of this article that his work is one deserving of much commenda-
tion, and calculated to repay the perusal ; and that opinion we
repeat. If those to whom we seek to recommend it, do not find
grounds to agree with our opinion, they must at least grant that
It is the production of an instructed and benevolent mind,
honesdy and anxiously seeking after truth, for the sake of truth
alone.

We cannot close without transcribing from vol. i. the following
short description of a contrast that struck our author, on his first
return to England, after a few montlis' stay in the sister island : —

** What most immediately and most forcibly struck me, was the
amazing disparity which a sail of not more than five or six hours had
produced in the character and appearance of the people. On that side
of the channel, squalid looks and lamentable destitution met me at al-
most every step ; on this, the plump and rosy faces of a well-clothed
population greeted me wherever I went. In Ireland, three or four
shillings a week was a very respectable amount for wages ; here, the
same class earn regularly from twelve to fourteen. As in a dream, I
was transported from a land of poverty and misery, to one flowing with
milk and honey." — vol. i. p. 237.

This needs no comment — all who have crossed the channel
have been struck with the melancholy contrast he mentions. It
exists, and must, we fear, exist for some time longer. The effects
of seven centuries of grinding oppression and unbridled tyranny,
cannot be got rid of in a <lay. Remedial efforts are in progress
— feeble and tardy, indeed, as yet — but still they are being made.
It is the duty of those whose fathers created the miseries of Ire-
land, to give their best energies to the noble task of raising her
to a level with her happier sister. It is, above all, the duty of
her sons, of every class and every rank, to devote themselves to
her regeneration. Yet, of her own children, a large proportion
are inveterately hostile to her interests, while of the rest, but too
many are led astray by the false lights of poor-law systems, and
other wild delusions. Still is there hope that all will yet be
right. The misguided may yet see the error of their ways, and
the inveterately nostile are fast discovering the utter uselessness

440 Miseries and Beauties of Ireland. [April,

of their base and unnatural enmity. Whatever be the mistakes and
misdeeds of the higher classes of society in Ireland, those of infe-
rior degree, her people, — her honest, brave and noble people, —
are true to themselves and to their country. By them will her
regeneration be wrought out, when the time comes (and we be-
lieve it is fast approaching) that all-bounteous Providence shall,
in its mercy, see fit to take off the chastening hand so long held
over our suffering country, and reward her for her patience, her
fortitude, and her unshaken fidelity in the one true faith.

Art. VII. — T?ie Modern EgyptianSi 8fc. By E. W. Lane,
2 vols. London. 1836.

IN the year of the Hegira 1151, (a.d. 1773) at Cavala, a small
sea-port in the Ejalect Romania, death suddenly released
from the most abject poverty an inferior officer of the Turkish
police. He left all he possessed, a male child only four years
old, totally unprovided for, destitute of even a single relative or
friend — in short with no protector but Providence. The Aga
of the place, however, touched by compassion, received the
helpless orphan into his household ; and subsequently bestowed
on the boy an education, judged by the Turks of that period
sufficiently liberal. He was instructed in the art of managing a
horse adroidy, and acquired great expertness in the use of the
sabre and carbine. Sixty years after the date referred to, that
forlorn child became known to the gazing world in the person of
Mehemet Ali. Then, not only the founder of a new dominion,
but an unshorn Sampson, prostrating the pillars of an ancient
empire. It has proved the singular fortune of Mehemet, to
render himself celebrated at an age when the statesman's
political fame, and the warrior's laurelled triumphs, generally
begin to decline " into the sere and yellow leaf."

Not the least remarkable circumstance in the history of this
truly extraordinary man, is the fact that he passed some of the
best years of his youth in the shop of a tobacco merchant, by
whom he was employed, after the loss of his patron obliged him
to seek a subsistence. How minute are the causes that frequently
give rise, or contribute, to the mightiest events. Mehemet's
occupation in the service of a petty plodder, confined to the every
day walks of trade, was the second link in the necessary chain of
strange incidents, that finally enabled him to unite the opposite
vocations of war and commerce, and cultivate with such signal
success those branches of the tree of industry, which, however

1888.] Mehemet Alt. 441

nitial to the civilization and permanent prosperity of a people,
were yet unknown to the generality of Eastern despots.

The talents displayed by the sovereign, when he governed the
commercial and financial departments of the state, were no
doubt in operation on a minor scale, and gradually maturing,
during the long hours of drudgery passed at the tobacconist's ;
whence, after accumulating a slender stock of piastres, Mehemet
removed to open a magazine on his own account. There years
rolled quietly on, and the merchant became one of the wealthiest
of his class in the Ejalect, although absolutely unable either to
read or write.

Mehemet thus early acquired the habits of business ; whilst, on
the other hand, the sagacity, promptitude, and vigour, shewn by
the politic prince, the warlike pasha, equally conspicuous in the
cabinet and the field, were qualities previously germinating in
his youthful breast ; when he volunteered to quell an insurrection
among the inhabitants of a village, who rose in resistance to the
government taxes, — and actually, at the head of a small party of
the police, succeeded by artful management, personal courage,
and mimovable resolution — a peculiar feature of his character-
in carrying away four of the ringleaders, seized before the very
faces of their numerous fellow insurgents. Our space, however,
will not permit us to continue details, purely personal and compa-
ratively trifling. We turn, therefore to the eventful page of
public history, wherein we first find the since justly renowned
name of Mehemet Ali. It appears at an epoch of no common
interest. That memorable hour when the ambitious aspiration
of Najwleon, and the decrees of the French Directory, conducted
a hostile armament to the shores of Egypt. What a field for
contemplation does that scene present ! The gigantic aims de-
veloped ! The wondrous ends undreamed ! The mighty men,
now chronicled in the dread Doomsday-book of eternity ! — What
unimaginable consequences are ever " hanging in the stars,"
invisible to the farthest reaching eye of vain mortality ! The
mandate of an anomalous anarchichal republic, despatches a host
of modern Gauls to battle amid the vestiges of Rome's ancient
glory, on the banks of the Nile I That host is led by a soldier,
rated to eclipse the fame of Ceesar, yet perish a discrowned and
exiled captive ! The invasion incites an obscure Macedonian
trader to quit his peaceful monetary labours, and practice in
ripened manhood the martial lessons of his boyish days ! The
ceaseless wheels of time and fortune revolve; till, at length,
astonished Christendom beholds the torch of civilization re-
kindled, after the iapse of ages, by the hand of the now

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. 2 G

442 Mehemet AH. [April,

merchant-monarch, on the ruins of Memphis ! The first step
towards this proud consummation, after Mehemet Ali, drawn by
an irresistible impulse, joined his countrymen, was the victory
which overthrew Egypt at the foot of her own pyramids. A

E resent infliction on humanity is frequently pregnant with future
enefits to mankind.

Imitating the conquerors of classic antiquity, the French pro-
fessed to enlighten wherever they wished to subjugate. Thrown
among the subdued, into immediate contact with the victors,
Mehemet Ali's energetic mind probably received the electric
spark, as it were, from the projects of Napoleon ; and the light
thus derived from the growing Colossus of the western world,
guided his after efforts m dissipating the mental darkness of the
east. Obeying their creed, Mjehemet's Moslem brethren, when
vanquished, regarded the defeat as pre-ordained, and deeming it
impossible to arrest, or alter the edicts of destiny, bent in reli-
gious resignation to the will of fate. His acute and active
spirit, on the contrary, taught him to cast aside the veil of
national superstition, to trace success or disaster to its primary
cause, and discover in the intellectual advantages possessed by
civilized Europeans, their consequent superiority over the semi-
barbarians of Asia, in most matters of worldly contest, or con-
cernment.

If the French expedition to Egypt suggested to Mehemet Ali
a worthy object for his new-born ambition, a subsequent event,
which, like the preceding, he could neither foresee nor influence,
opened to him the daring, but perilous, crooked, and blood-
stained path to power, which he thenceforward inflexibly pursued.
The naturally weak, but ever-galling bonds, imposed upon the
fierce and turbulent Mamelukes, by their Turkish rulers, were
afresh broken, and merciless war, in its most ferocious form,
burst forth. From the commencement to the catastrophe of this
intestine tragedy, Mehemet sustained a part of such consequence,
as to render his individual biography an historical record of
transactions, perhaps, little inferior in characteristic interest, and
momentous results, to the annals of olden Greece or Rome.
Posterity, noting the sanguinary .footsteps of Mehemet Ali's un-
sparing career, may demand whether any motives could justify
designs, necessarily cemented by blood, or atone for the sacrifice
of myriads massacred in clearing his course to supremacy? —
Then let regenerated Egypt, aroused from the moral lethargy of
morbid centuries, bear witness, tliat out of evil Providence may
bring forth good.

To understand the precise nature of the deac^y struggle in

18S8.] Mehemet AH. 448

question, and tlie situation of the conflicting parties at its outset,
it may be necessarj' to take a brief retrospect of the history of the
Mamehikes.

Towards the close of the thirteenth century, and during
the crusade of the ninth Louis of France, (surnamed, with a
propriety which no one can dispute, the Saint) Sultan Malek
Sala, a great grandson of Saladin, and grandson of Malek
Adhel, purchased a vast number of young Circassians, and
selected from them a formidable body-guard. They were
stj'led Mnmelukes ; meaning in the native tongue slai-e soldiertt.
An appellation that at no very distant period they might have
exchanged, without hyperbole, for the title of Slave Kings. Ac-
cording to the customary practice of eastern tyranny, the sultan
no sooner discovered any of his slave warriors in possession of
wealth, sufficient to render its seizure desirable, than he trans-
ferred the owners to his dungeons, and, Rnally, on some pretext,
possible or impossible, put tliem to death, and confiscated their
property. Dissaffection, of course, sprung up and grew with
the growth of the Mamelukes' military strength ; till in the reign
of Malek Sala's successor they broke into successful rebellion,
put an end to the dynasty of the Ayabifes, and appropriated to
themselves that sovereignty, which they retained and defended
with invincible valour for nearly three hundred years, despite
the repeated attacks of the Christians, the Turks, and even of the
all subduing Tamerlane ! At length Selim the First, taking ju-
dicious advantage of the general disunion existing among the
Mameluke chiefs, overran Egypt, carried his conquering army
to Cairo, and there concluded his work by hanging the deposed
sultan at one of the gates of the city.

Beneath the sway of Selim, Egypt, as a Turkish province, was
nominally governed by a Pasha, or viceroy. But Selim, aware
that the very qualities required in the possessor of such an office,
would present him, if competent to use them, with abundant
temptation and opportunities for establishing a dominion inde-
pendent of the Forte, resolved to guard against the reconstruc-
tion of a sole absolute authority, which, from the remoteness of
the Turkish capital, it might be found difficult to destroy. To
effect this purpose, by counteracting the pasha's otherwise
unlimited power, Selim created a species of oligarchy. He
divided the country into twenty-four parts, and placed each
district under the command of a Mameluke Bey. This disjointed
government soon became, as might have been foreseen, com-
pletely anarchical. Civil wars were continually occurring between
the beys, severally ; with similar strife, in common, betwixt them
and the pasha.

2g 2

444 Mehemei Ati. [April,

The native Egyptians, exasperated at the increasing intrusion
and arrogant ascendancy of so many Asiatic foreigners, either
retired from their vicinity, or refused to intermarry with them.
Tlie Mamelukes, thus entirely placed apart, were reduced to the
necessity of recruiting both their harems and armies by pro-
curing slaves from Asia.

In retaliation, the Beys adopted a most singular mode of
marking their contempt for the ancestral pride of the native
scorners. They decreed that none but foreign slaves should be
capable of bearing, or privileged to receive, the dignity of a bey.
Thus slavery combined in one individual the highest and lowest
distinctions of society, amongst the anomalous and isolated race,
who formed thenceforth a people devoid of kindred sympathies,
and whose offspring were self-barred from all honourable
emulation.

This strange, unnatural system, had prevailed for three cen-
turies, when the Sultan, Selim the Third, provoked beyond
endurance by their atrocities, determined to cleanse Egypt,
effectually, from the pestilent plague spot.

Already had various beys been severally disposed of by stra-
tagem or force, when Mehemet Kusruff Pasha, one of the
Turkish generals during the French invasion, then (in 1802)
Viceroy of Egypt, received secret orders from the Divan to
sweep the whole Mameluke militia, with their chieftains, one
and all, from the face of the land.

Circumstances reserved the execution of this design for the
reign of Mahmud, and the agency of Mehemet All ; but the
original conception undoubtedly belonged to the profoundly
politic Selim.

In compliance with the Sultan's commands, about 15,000
men were concentrated under the standard of the Pasha. This
army was gathered from nearly all the Eastern nations subject
to the Porte, with the single exception of the Egyptians, for the
possession of whose soil this intended war of extermination was
on the point of commencing. KusrufTs infantry consisted prin-
cipally of Albanian, Turkish, and Barbaresque hordes ; while
the less numerous cavalry was a heterogeneous body of adven-
turers from all countries, acting as a corps of observation, of
little service beyond mere reconnoitering, and styled by the Turks
delh'is (fools).

The Mamelukes were incomparably better soldiers than their
foes, and so especially dexterous in their manoeuvres, that the
greatest general of the time (Napoleon) had previously pro-
nounced them the most accomplished cavalry in the world ; yet
the practical advantages derivable from their superiority in this

1838.] Mehemet Ati. 445

respect, were commonly neglected and lost by the beys through
tlieir own incessant dissensions, since the common cause was ever
unheeded when it interfered with the indulgence of a personal
jealousy, or tlie furtherance of a private interest.

At this crisis, Mehemet Ali, who had distinguished himself,
during the late contest with the French, by bravery and judg-
ment, received from tlie viceroy the rank of general, and was
f)laced at the head of a division of the Turkish army. Envy,
latred, and malice, had their votaries among the Ottoman, as
well as the Mameluke leaders, and Mehemet did not long enjoy
his command. After the loss of the battle near Damanliur,
some of the other generals accused him of causing the overthrow,
by a retreat only attributable to treachery or cowardice. Me-
hemet clearly refuted the imputation, and showed, not only that
his apparent flight was a mere feint, for the purpose of dividing
the enemy's force, but that the plan was actually preconcerted
with the very men who charged him with a desertion, in reality
committed by themselves. The Pasha, nevertheless, either
prejudiced against him, or yielding to the popular Turkish
belief in the subjection of a fated individual to the pursuance of
misfortune, deprived Mehemet of his post, and without ceremony
dismissed him. Indignant at such undeserve<l degradation, the
wronged and insulted soldier resolved to vindicate his valour,
and seek revenge on his traducers, by combating for, instead of
against, the Mamelukes. In their cause, he soon proved himself
equally well versed in the arts of policy and war; succeeded in
alienating the Albanians from the service of the Crescent, and
attaching them firmly to himself; opened the gates of Cairo to
one of the beys, and forced Mehemet Kusruff' to fly to Damietta,
whither he followed, besieged, and took him prisoner. From
that event may be dated tlie rise and progress of Mehemet All's
military ascendancy and political influence.

In the East, revolutions, except in very rare instances, are
never directed against the established form of government, but
are merely aimed at some of its presiding heads. A martial
mutiny, or a factious insurrection, may produce what we term
a change in the ministry, or even lose the monarch his sceptre
and life, but still the people never dream of altering the regular
institutions, modes, and methods of authority. Thus, in Egypt,
during the three centuries of unceasing discord and bloodshed
between the Turkish pashas and the Mameluke beys, originating
and inherent in the very ingredients of the administration given
to the country by Selim the First, neither sultan nor slave-chief
thought of ameliorating the evils experienced, or stopping the
carnage perpetrated, by remodelling the state. A fresh pasha

446 Mehemet Ali. [April,

succeeded to the dignity and danger of his slain predecessor.
One bey supplanted or assassinated another; but the radical
cause remained undetected and untouched. When intelligence
of Mehemet KusrufTs capture and imprisonment reached the
l*orte, the Sultan ostensibly contented himself with nominating
Ali Gazairli, with conciliatory powers, to the violently vacated
pashalik. The new viceroy carefully concealed his secret hostile
instructions beneath the cloak of peaceful amity, and Mehemet
Ali met his hypocrisy with more than equal dissimulation.
Whilst apparently unsuspicious, and professedly obedient, he set
his engines in motion, and induced the beys to strike an anti-
cipatory blow, watched his plot gradually ripen, and when the
moment for action arrived, at once threw off the friendly mask.
Supported by him, at the head of his partizan allies the Alba-
nian troops, the beys succeeded in making Gazairli their pri-
soner ; but unlike Mehemet Ali, who only incarcerated Kusruffj
they put their unfortunate captive to death. The Mamelukes
were accustomed to communicate and receive orders from the
viceroy, through the medium of a sheikh-el-beled, a sort of high
deputy or delegate appointed by the beys.

Subsequently to the fall of Mehemet Kusruff, this weighty
office had been entrusted to a certain Osman Bardissy, who,
pending the appointment of a successor to the late Gazairli
Pasha, ruled unopposed, and with the aid of Mehemet Ali,
almost despotically, over all the country. The calm was of short
duration. Just at this juncture an unexpected candidate for the
equivocal prize of power appeared. Mehemet Elfi Bey advanced
pretensions to the supreme authority of Egypt, supported, as he
alleged, by the court of Saint James's, and under the express
protection of England, whence he had then arrived.

The eagle eye of Mehemet Ali did not fail to perceive in these
clashing claims the means to serve his own intents. He had
hitherto used the Mamelukes as instruments to free himself from
the successive Turkish viceroys. They were now to weaken
their own force, and assist him in removing the remaining
impediments to his ultimate objects. He began by firing the
rival spirit of the two competitors into active hostilities. Then
assisted Osman Bardissy to gain an easy triumph, and forced his
adversary to fly from Egypt.

That done, he clandestinely instigated the adherents of the
beaten bey into fresh intrigues, and succeeded in raising the
clamours of the fickle populace so high against Bardissy, that he
compelled him to follow the example of Britain's protege, or
emissary, and save his life by self-banishment.

For more than four hundred years had the Mamelukes,

1888.] Mehetnet Alt. 447

eoually &med for courage and craftiness, foiled all assailants.
Tney still defied every effort of the Porte to subvert them, either
by fraud or force. \et this wily intractable tribe were moved,
as mere puppets, by the super-subtle spirit of an otherwise
powerless stranger, " in birth unhonoured, and of name obscure."
From the departure of Osman liardissy, Mehemet Ali was, in
fact. Viceroy of Kgypt, though he wisely abstained from assuming
the title. Under similar circumstances, any shorter-sighted
ambitious novice, would assuredly have seized it, since there were
none openly prepared to contravene his will. But Ali saw
clearly the perils of his situation. On one side, the offended
Porte ; on the other, the dangerous beys. Both parties would,
inevitably, have been exasperated at his elevation ; and he would
thus have been exposed to the attacks of both. Calculating visible
probabilities, the chances of an immediate appeal to arms were

greatly against him, and he resolved to strengthen his position
y artificial disinterestedness, rather than venture an advance
that would place him between two fires. This determination he
executed by nominally replacing on the vice-throne, Meheniet
Kusruff, his former commander and after captive ; a master-
stroke of refined policy, that would have reflected cre<lit on the
fenius of Machiavel himself. Not only was the wrath of the
)ivan turned aside, by the air of submissive repentance for the
past, and the desire to conciliate in future, apparently evinced
by this measure, but it averted from him any mistrust entertained
by the beys, and awakened all their old enmity against the rein-
stated Pasha ! If the Mamelukes refused obedience to Kusruff,
and he should have recourse to arms, even then the belligerent
parties would serve Ali, by mutually weakening each other.

But Mehemet Ali looked for another result. The rejection
was expected — the train of its consequences laid. He rightly
judged his influence over the minds of the multitude, as not yet
sufficiently absolute for the mere expression of his will to be
received as the decree of an oracle. No ; the many must com-
mand him to his own wishes. Accordingly, the sheikhs, and the
officers of the army, strongly opposed his choice; and acting, no
doubt, unconsciously, on suggestions emanating, indirectly, from
himself, solicited the Porte to sanction their election of Kurshid
Pasha, the governor of Alexandria, to the vice-royalty of Egj'pt,
in lieu of Kusruff; and, at the same tiine, as a |)eace- offering to
Mehemet Ali, for the disrespect shown to his nomination, named
him to the post of Kaimakan, or Lieutenant, an office only
second in importance and dignity to the Pasha. No sooner
were these appointments confirmed by the Divan, than, as
Mehemet had foreseen, and probably rorwarded, new causes of

448 Mehemet Alt. [April,

quarrel occurred, and hostilities fiercely commenced between the
beys and their new viceroy. At this period, Mehemet Ali was
well provided with confidential agents and spies at Constan-
tinople, who carried on intrigues in his favour among the mem-
bers of the Divan, whilst he, at the head of the Turkish troops,
took every opportunity of reducing the Mamelukes ; yet also
found leisure to regulate and reform the state of aifairs in the
Egyptian capital ; where his presence was of no less service in
protecting the inhabitants from the rapacity of the soldiers, than
in quelling insurrections, sometimes indebted to him for their
birth. The sheikhs, or priests, who generally assumed the reins
of power, in cases of emergency, duly impressed with the merits
displayed by the Pasha's deputy, soon found reason to declare
Kurshid incapable of governing Egypt. They, therefore, de-
posed him, and conferred his title and authority, subject to the
approval of the Sultan, on his Raimakan, Mehemet Ali ! ! I
Thus was the cherished vision realized, the long-sought talisman
of potency obtained. Kurshid protested, and shut himself up in
the citadel, where he was besieged by his successor, who was
preparing to storm the place, when a Kapidgi Basha arrived
from the Turkish capital with a royal Firman, establishing
Mehemet Ali in the Pashalik, to which he had been called — so
said the Firman — by the wish of the people of Egypt. Such
was, certainly, the case. They judged him by the partial good
effected within their knowledge, and the vigour he had shown in
repressing evils ; but they could neither estimate his motives, nor
discern his remote designs. The Sultan was reported to be
personally impressed with ominous foreshadowings on the sub-
ject, and to have yielded to necessity a reluctant consent ; but
his compliance was hailed with unfeigned joy by the priests, the
people, and the army. The year 1803, which witnessed the
promotion of Mehemet Ali to the Viceroyalty of Egypt, is also
remarkable for another event, equally momentous in its conse-
quences. The Turkish forces were defeated by the Servian
insurgents, under the command of George Czerny, who after-
wards called forth the revolution, and witli it the independence,
of Greece. The first blows, therefore, of the double series that
finally severed from the Ottoman empire two of its most valuable
provinces, were struck in 1803, though above a quarter of a
century was required to complete the disjunction.

Behold Mehemet Ali, after his death-daring, tortuous ascent,
placed on the gory, giddy eminence of despotism. What was
there in the prospect, from the height attained, to recompense
the fearful toil of climbing thither ? A miserable country, im-
poverished by heavy taxes and enforced contributions ! Its

1888.] Mehetnet Alu 449

iulmbitanis driven to despair and disobedience ! Undisciplined
and insubordinate troops, inured to rapine, and continually
deserting their ranks to join tliose of the still more lawless and
rapacious Mamelukes ! Add to all this, the suspicious, selfish
policy of the Porte, ever ready either to prey upon the weak,
or treacherously destroy where strength might be feared ! On
this view, but few, we imagine, blessed with the golden mean of
European civilization, would envy Mehemet the possession of
his pashalik. But, to Mehemet, an atmosphere of storms had
become congenial. His mind, cast in an all-surpassing, yet, still,
Asiatic mould, looked firmly forward to the marvellous race it
had yet to run. Fully conscious of the precipices in his path,
he traversed their brinks with unwavering self-dependence, as he
advanced towards the two-fold goal of his immutable resolves —
the restoration of Egypt to its rank and integrity in the scale of
nations, and the re-creation of its mental and social energies.

To perfect these stupendous purposes, hitherto unattempted
througli a succession of unknown ages, but half the span of man's
allotted life remained to Mehemet. The second, and more
glorious end, could only he accomplished after the full attain-
ment of the first. Egypt could never be freed from the Turkish
yoke, whilst burdened with the perpetual desultory warfare of
the Mamelukes : still less could the seeds of humanity be sown,
until the ground was cleared of its most baneful and obnoxious
weeds. It was necessary, also, before Mehemet could nssail the
Porte with prudence, to combine against it the various oriental
tribes, only retained in their obedience to the Sultan by the
bonds of ancient custom, ever prevalent among the Asiatics, even
where plainly prejudicial to their interests. This hatred of
innovation, Mehemet justly thought, might be removed by
setting before them revolutionary examples within his own imme-
diate dominion. In a word, imperious necessity demanded, as
an o|)ening and indispensiible n)easure, the extirpation of the
Mamelukes : — but it was easier to pronounce the doom, than
execute the sentence. Previously to iiis late exaltation, Mehemet
had armed the free Bedouin Arabs against the beys, who had
suffered, materially, from his successes ; but, as their peculiar
habits of warfare, and high excellence in horsemanship, must
render the utter extinction of the Mamelukes, at least by the
regular weapons of war, an almost interminable labour, the too
common expedients of the East were resorted to. Those prac-
tices consisted in disseminating discord among the chiefs — then
attacking them separately, when off their guard— slaughtering
them by treacherj* — and, briefly, in out-manoeuvring them by
every device that deceit or cruelty could invent. In one instance,

450 Mehemet Alt. [April,

Mehemet, by false intelligence speciously circulated, induced
them to believe that a large portion of the Turkish troops were
eager to raise the standard of rebellion in Cairo, and only
awaited their junction and commanding. Several of the beys
fell into the snare, and found their deatlis. In the midst of his
machinations against the Mamelukes, Mehemet did not neglect
the more legitimate and laudable duties of a governor. He
vigilantly inspected and improved the discipline of his licentious
soldiery, and classified them into proper divisions. Nor were
his reforms confined to mere professional correction. He con-
stituted himself chief manager of the police in the capital, and
perambulated its streets, both by day and night, in the garb
of a common kavah, or Turkish soldier : visitea, thus disguised,
all the public places and coffee houses, and either castigated with
his own hands, or gave into the charge of the guards, who
followed within his summons, every military delinquent whom
he detected in the commission of any act of violence or depre-
dation. Such proofs of rigid, impartial justice, of public
protection, and of unusual care for the conservation of private
property, could not fail to render the Viceroy extremely popular.
So loud, indeed, were his subjects in their expressions of admi-
ration and gratitude, that the echoes resounded even unto
Constantinople ; and the ever-apprehensive Divan, alarmed —
in this instance with reason — at the rapid advance of attachment
on the part of the people, and the consequent spread of power
on that of their ruler, determined to transplant him, before he
became too strongly rooted to be removed at will. A firman
from the Sultan reached Mehemet at Damanhur, designed to
deprive him of the throne he filled too well ; raise to it an
appointed vizier, and replace the beys in their pernicious authority.
But the watchers of the wonder-working head, had slept too long,
and only awoke to hear " lime is past." The Viceroy, con-
fiding in the devotion by which he was surrounded, the tried
fidelity of his Albanian auxiliaries, and the support of the
Bedouins, lamented that destiny would not permit him to obey
the mandate of the Divan, adding the most dutiful assurances
that his denial was enforced by the obstinate resistance of the
troops. Mehemet certainly owed no thanks to the gloss of
invariable warlike success for his popularity. His forces had
been roughly handled, on several occasions, by the hydra-like
Mamelukes, and especially by the Anglo-Egj'ptian Bey, Elfi ;
but all extraneous considerations of adverse import, vanished
before the brilliancy of his domestic reputation ; and the eluded
Porte found it necessary, for the present, to flatter him whom
its distant authority was impotent to supersede. 'The Sultan

1888.] Mehemet Alu 451

bowed once more to the majesty of the people's ** wish," and
confirmed Mehemet AH in his dignity. Another fortuitous
event contributed not a little to his prosperous progress. This
was the almost simultaneous death of his two most troublesome
foes, Osman Bardissy and Mehemet Elfi. On receiving infor-
mation of the decease of those beys, he lost no time in taking
advantage of the general consternation caused by the occurrence :
resumea offensive operations ; attacked and defeated various
parties in succession, and dreadfully harrassed their retreats, by
employing his Bedouin friends in the pursuit. In attaching the
children of the desert to his service, and opposing them against
the Mamelukes, he gradually predisposed them lor the political
changes, and vast reformation, he silently contemplated.

Mehemet's attention, however, was soon diverted to self-
defence, at another point, where foreign efforts were on foot for
unseating him. An expedition despatched by the British
Cabinet, expressly to support the Mamelukes, arrived at
Alexandria ; and the disembarked troops, amounting to six
thousand, were received into the place by the Governor, whom
the beys had also found means to confederate in their cause.
Mehemet's good genius did not desert him. An attack made by
the associates on liosetta, most disastrously failed, and the defeat
of course greatly lowered the confidence of the beys in the
irresistible prowess of their insular allies. The politic Pasha,
instead of presuming on his success, and pushing it to extremities,
threw out propositions for pe.ice, advantiigeous to the Mameluke
chiefs; and whilst they were balancing between his offers and the
possibility of still profiting' by the English aid, the latter party
decided the question for tnem ; finding it advisable to preserve
the national honour from any farther fracture, by stowing them-
selves, " homeward bound," under the guardianship of Dan
Neptune ; even then, confessedly, indebted to the forbearance
of Mehemet, for the opportunity of regaining their shi|)s.

If, on the whole, Mehemet may be termed an indulged child
of fortune, he cannot be characterised (like Napoleon) as a
prodigal son. Whilst engaged in those early games of war, that,
m the end, were to enable him to compete for the incalculable
stake then at issue, he carefully husbanded each minor winning,
and avoided risking his resources in dubious bye bets, — coolly
calculated against contingencies, and baffled his adversaries by
finesse, when his hands were weak. But where he felt himself
secure, he boldly took the lead; and every new trial of his
strength only added to the odds in his favour, on the match.

Turkey soon put his skill to the test. The Sultan Selim's
murder made way for the mild Mustapha, who occupied the throne

462 Mehemet Ali. [April,

only until shortly after the repulse of the English from Egypt.
Mustapha was followed by his brother Mali mud, on whom
devolved the task of completing the dissolution of the Janissaries,
and carrying on the other works of improvement began by
Selim. In addition to the good effected by Mahmud in his
proper sphere, he most undoubtedly, though unintentionally,
accelerated the deliverance of Egypt, by calling her slumbering
capabilities into action.

The Sultan's motives for this, eventually, philanthropic act,
was the necessity of crushing the sect of the IVahabitea^ engen-
dered about fifty-five years past, in Nedshed,* by a sheikh, from
whose name his followers derived their designation. These
dangerous rebels, previous to Mahmud's accession, had gained
complete mastery throughout the whole of Hedshas and Yemen,
and their victorious banners were already fluttering in the
environs of Damascus and Bagdad, when the Sultan sent orders
to his Egyptian vassal viceroy, to gather all his forces together,
and proceed to annihilate the Wahabites, who were daily extend-
ing their encroachments in Arabia. Mahmud evidently trusted
that the destruction of one party, he cared not which, would be
so dearly purchased by the other, as to leave the victor's after
fate at his royal disposal. Mehemet Ali, instead of shrinking
from the honour of an investment, similar in its expected
efficacy to the envenomed garment of Nessus, received his com-
mission with joy. It was to him as the dawn of a rising sun,
whose beams were to invigorate his strength, irradiate his
influence, and guide him to farther avenues for its extension.
He meditated on the means of encouraging commerce in the
Arabian ports ; of facilitating an intercourse with Yemen, and
of forming, among a people already won to his interests, a fresh
basis for his ascendency, by the protection he might confer on
their sacred cities. Still, those baleful birds of prey, the Mame-
lukes, obscured the horizon of his hopes. Congregated in the
Delta, they prosecuted their roving ravages, and hovered, as it
were, around the gates of Cairo :

" dread hell-kites all,

Seeking to swoop on aught within their range."

* Nedshed, or Naged. It is so styled from the elevated aspect of the country ; and
the term might be rendered Mountainous Arabia. Abdeelfeda says that opinions
Tary as to the exact position of Nedshed ; but that the name, most probably, indi-
cates the high tract of land which separates Yemen from Tahamah, (Lower Arabia)
and Irak Arabia from Syria. Towards Hedshas, it abounds in marshes. Tlie
mountains Salamy and Adsha are the best known. The inhabitants are an Arabian
race called Tait$, but that name is common to all the Arabs. Hence in Assemani,
Bib. Orien. tom. i. p. SG*, " Monder, a king of the Taits." With the Chaldeans,
^^2>{2 signifies an Arabian Merchant.

/

1838.] Mehemtt AH. 4^8

Occupied in his preparations, and anxious to expedite his mission,
Mehemet ardently desired to clear Egypt trom its intestine
pest, before tlie departure of bis armies left the country still
more exposed to devastation.

Were the gangrened wounds of the deeply lacerated land never
to be healed: How long were the crimes of a hateful oligarchy,
a community of public robbers, intruders on the soil, to resist
the establishment of a healthy government, and retard the en-
lightenment of millions? All his endeavours to unravel by
degrees this Gordian knot of Eg\'pt»an bondage had proved
fruidess, and he now wound up his faculties to cut thj*ougn it by
an act, detested even by the northern savages of antiauity, and
which, if weighed in the common scales of modern European
religion and morality (setting retributive justice aside) must be
condemned as an offence against God and man, utterly inex-
piable on earth. Mehemet resolved to lure the Mamelukes into
certain toils, and at one ruthless blow exterminate the whole
race and name, by assassination ! He commenced his design
by disarming them of the habitual distrust, dictated by experi-
ence and their own practices. This he accomplished by artfully
negociating and concluding a truce, under pretence of devoting
himself entirely to the important arrangements for the approach-
ing ex|)edition, and actually appeared so wholly absorbed in the
business, as to set any lurking suspicions at rest. He proceeded
to build a flotilla in the Rea Sea, and went in j)erson to Suez,
to inspect the progress of the work. Numerous magazines, also,
were at the same time erected under his orders in Alexandria, to
render that place eligible for the commercial emporium, which,
aided by the natural advantages of its situation, it has since
become. At last, when all was prepared for the denouement of
this dreadful drama, he announceu to the surrounding country
the period fixed for the departure of his army to Arabia, under
the command of his eldest son, Tussan Pasha. During the few
intervening days he lavished all possible civilities and insinuating
flatteries on the Mameluke chieftains, and they were finally
invited to visit the citadel on the llthof March, 1811, and
partake of a banquet in honour of the prince's farewell. The
beys, now completely blindfolded, did not hesitate an instant to
comply with the viceroy's gracious requesL 'I'he morning rang
with shouts, and all was revelry and excitement tliroughout
Cairo, until tlie beys with their followers were past the gates of
the citadel. Scarcely had the last entered, when the entrances
were secured ; and the victims, exposed to an incessant shower of
fire from the walls, fell without being able either to fly or defend
themselves. On the same day and hour their brethren were put

454 Meheinet Alt. [April,

to the sword in the streets of the city, and in all other places and
towns of Said and the Delta. The wretched wreck of these
hitherto insuperable soldiers escaped into the desert.

Thus perished, after an existence of 600 years, the body of
the Mamelukes, who formed an exception in human physiology,
and an unparalleled solecism in the laws of social organization.

We have already acknowledged that Mehemet's guilty deed
is, abstractedly, indefensible; but though it cannot be justified,
it surely admits of considerable palliation. Leaving the general
eastern unscrupulous familiarity with blood out of the question,
still, there is no rule, it is said, without an exception, and if the
ethical edict which proclaims, "no end is worthy, where the
means are bad," can ever admit of a proviso, Mehemet, certainly,
may prefer a claim to the benefit. Shakspeare's Bassanio be-
seeches the Judge " to do a great right, do a little wrong" — the
supposed legal casuist does not deny the right, but yet declares
" it cannot be" — the wrotig has law on its side, and were the
law infringed " it would be drawn into a precedent." We pre-
sume there is no fear of that in Mehemet's case ; his subsequent
actions are of a nature to leave the memory of the Mameluke
massacre a lamentable monument of buried barbarism, rather
than as a model for imitation to future aspirants for fame.
Moral and political earthquakes seem to be the results of certain
combinations of morbid matter in any mundane system of
government; and would seem to be permitted by an all-wise Pro-
vidence, in analogy with the elemental conflicts ever attendant on
the dispersion of " a congregation of foul and pestilent vapours,"
clouding the bright expanse of heaven, when the mad tempest
is, for the wisest purposes, awhile permitted to deface the
beauteous order of creation. The fate of the Mamelukes created
no commiseration. Their heartless trade forbade them to pity
others. They could not sympathize in miseries inflicted by
themselves. Who was there, then, to mourn their dissolution ?
Not a tear mixed itself with the expiatory blood that moistened
the liberated soil.

Mehemet was left to rule in peace, and the people felt that the
sway of military rapine had passed away with their immolated
oppressors. If we may credit history, the Mamelukes of the
early ages were endowed with many splendid qualities ; but those
who latterly bore the name, inherited with it only the virtue of
intrepidity ; brutal, when exercised only for harm, and held in
common with the gaunt, ravening wolf! They displayed no
military talent, '"worthy of notice, after the French evacuated
Egypt. From that time, their bravery appeared to degenerate
into the mere animal insensibility to danger, common to the

1888.] Mehentet All. 45fi

reckless bandit of all countries. Tlie Pasha having thus cleared
the way for his own internal operations, the army under Tussan
set forth on their route. The Wahabites opposed to a war of
exiernjination, the fearlessness of men who conceived themselves
doomed to martyrdom ; and so successfully, that Mehemet was
obliged to dispatch his second son, Ibrahim Pasha, with strong
reinforcements, to the assistance of his brother. ITie desperate
struggle was protracted for six years, passed amidst hard-fought
battles, alternate advantages, and severe sieges. Every step
was disputed ; but, in conclusion, Dereyeh, the capital, and last
refuge of the Wahabites, (and, previously to the war, the threat-
ening rival of Cairo and Constantinople) was taken and destroyed ;
when the last remnant of the tenacious, unyielding sect, was
drowned in torrents of blood.

By their victories in the Arabian peninsula, the viceroy's sons
virtually added to his dominions Mecca, the principal towns in
Nedslied, and the ports of the Red Sea. With these materials,
he began his welcome toil of recomposing the mighty empire of
the Pnaraohs, though the fragments recovered were only a por-
tion of the number torn away, — and to redeem all the wanting
parts appeared an Herculean undertaking. The wasteful war,
too, with the Wahabites, had deprived him of the dite of his
armies, and exhausted the resources of Egj'pU In this exigency,
Mehemet failed not to discover a bold expedient. He looked to
the southern provinces, those marts of slavery, where mothers yet
are taught to curse their fruitfulness, — and determined that there
his conquests should be carried on, and from those acquisitions,
his recruits obtained.

The execution of this purpose he entrusted to his son Ismael,
who, with the remainder of the army, procee<led up the Nile, and
gathered laurels at a much easier rate than his brothers in
Arabia. In a very short time, compared with the magnitude of
the enterprize, the whole of ancient Ethiopia was united to
Egypt. Ethiopia, who originally lent the first elements of civi-
lization to her, whose now paramount sons will, ere long, we
trust, be enabled to pay off a part of the outstanding debt of six
thousand years ! In vain did the wild Africans rush forth to
repel the intruders from their deserts. In vain did the savage
Shaykieh, the cannibal Sheliik, oppose to their invaders' fire-
arms, their poisoned arrows, their iron weapons, and their buck-
lers covere<l with the skin of the hunted rhinoceros. The prac-
tised Egyptians drove them back to the sources of the river which
they deify — Kenus, with its colossean memorials of the many-
named Sesostris, to whom Ethiopia gave its first tributes of ebony,
gold, and ivorj' ; Siiadney, Domer, Halfay, Sennaar, surrounded

456 Miheniet AIL [April,

by the White and Blue Rivers, Lower and Upper Nubia, that
had not witnessed the hostile footstep of a human beinj?, of the
Caucasian race, since the expedition of Cambyses; Cordofan,
Darfur, and Oasenarchepele, which, though situated in the heart
of the desert, abounds in gold, copper, iron, and even in popular
tion. All these, almost virgin countries, were subdued and made
tributary to die vice-king of Egypt. I'here is, at present, not a
single province washed by the waters of prolific Nile, that does
not acknowledge his authority. These vast lands may now be
properly styled the territories of the Nile and of Mehemet Ali I

Until the crusade against the Wahabites, we find in the actions
of the viceroy only a negative policy. At first, like a provident
gardener, he fitted his labours to the passing season, and em-
ployed himself in weeding, pruning, and eradicating. From the
removal of the Mamelukes, he began to sow, to plant, and to
cultivate. The third epoch brought him the spoils of Arabia,
and concluded with the attainments of the Ethiopian inroad.

The cup of conquest quaffed to his full content, the now abso-
solute monarch assumed the duties of the peaceful reformer, the
beneficent creator. As if to dispose him wholly for the office,
and by a providential dispensation, incline the hardened warrior's
heart to sympathize with his new vocation, his late triumphs were
accompanied by a most bitter personal lesson of the horrible cala-
mities inseparable from war, as practised in the East. Ismael,
liis victorious son, the treasured hope of his house, was cut off by
a most horrible death. He was burnt alive in his own tent, at
the instigation of an Afi*ican king whom he had dethroned, and
whose agents, with the stealth of their native serpents, penetrated
to the spot, despite the neighbouring guards, and fatally effected
their purpose. Mehemet had now regained the separated limbs
of Egypt's gigantic frame, as it stood in the time of Moses. But
the reconstructed Colossus was yet devoid of animation. It still
required the living breath of civilization, which, he well knew,
Europe alone could furnish. He chose, for the instruments of
the desired vivification, natives of France, — a country, whose skill
in arts, in arms, and in learning, he had witnessed, and knew
how to appreciate, though seen under no firiendly auspices. The
French government had entrusted its commercial interests to an
able functionary, the consul Drovetti : and Mehemet, anxious to
profit by his extensive information on subjects vitally connected
with the plans he cherished, became so familiar with the consul,
and the consul's influence with the vice-king increased so con-
spicuously, that Drovetti's own countrymen termed him AlVs
ministe^r, and reproached him with having the interests of the
Pasha more at heart than even those of the *' great nation."

18S8.] Mehemet Ali. 457

European improvements were fast spreading through the East,
and Colonel Stives arrived at Cairo, on his way to attend Feih
Ali Shah, who had engaged him to discipline the Persian forces.
Mehemet Ali prevailed on the Colonel to undertake a similar oc-
cupation in his dominions ; and no sooner were the contracting
parties agreed, than immerous barracks were erected at Syene,
and 20,000 Arabs, with an equal number of young Negroes from
the newly-conquered provinces, were delivered over to the mili-
tary tuition of a disciple of Napoleon.

From that period, the man who could announce himself to the
viceroy as a Frenchman, possessed an all-sufficing passport to

f)ublic employment, without any particular reference to his pecu-
iar qualifications for the post assigned. This mdiscriminate
patronage necessarily led, in some cases, to disappointment on
both sides. An opportunity speedily presented itself for putting
in practice the newly acquired theoretical skill of the native sol-
diery, who were the first on record that imitated European ma-
noeuvres upon African soil. The Greek insurrection seemed
rushing irresistibly forward on the road to its ultimate triumph.
Kurshid Pasha, the same unlucky chief whom Mehemet had used
as his stepping-stone to sovereignty in Egypt, was defeated at
the head of 50,000 Turks, by a mere handful of RajaJis^ and
chose, by committing suicide, to avoid the disgrace and punish-
ment he foresaw his ill-starred destiny would award him, should
he return to Constantinople. Impartial fortune, however, equally
denied her smiles to his successors. One after another, four
armies were routed in the passes of Thessaly and the Pelopon-
nesus : the Archipelago was strewed with the wrecks of three
fleets, and the road to Stamboul thrown open to the Giaours. At
that eventful moment, the Sultan claimed assistance from the sub-
duer of the Wahabites, the emulator of Sesoslris; for, disinclined,
as we may well suppose, Mahmud must have been, to provide
Mehemet with fresh food for his ambitious appetite, stern neces-
sity compelled him to oppose to the insurgents who threatened
his capital and throne, a vassal who, as yet, had ostensibly obeye<l
liis orders, and still acknowledge<l his supremacy. The pie-
sent evil was urgent ; the future might be guarded against. The
viceroy was all submission, and 80,000 men, unuer Ibrahim
Pasha, sailed from Alexandria to the western coasts of Greece.
The arrival of Mehemet All's military masses in the Morea and
Crete, presented a remarkable coincidence, and most curious
political antithesis. The ancient world called forth, as it were,
her two most renowned types, Egj'pt and Greece, as combatants,
into the lists prepared by modern despotism. Yet the gladiators
tliemselves, though momentarily opposed, were, in reality, fight-
VOL. IV. — NO. viii. Sf u

458 Mehemet All. [April,

ing for the same end. Still more singular, France, who warmly
"sympathized with the progressive emancipation of both parties,
had equally qualified each for the present paradoxical contest.
Fabrier, an enthusiastic Carbonaro and liberal, was the warlike
instructor of the Hellenes ; and Seves, a thorough Bonapartist,
had sedulously trained the Arabs. Strange, too, as at first sight
it may appear, both the Greeks and the Egyptians were appro-

f)riately placed ; for, whilst the Greeks were struggling to estab-
ish their republican independence, the Arabs were indebted for
the dawn of their civilization to Mehemet Ali's </espo/?c principles
— principles which Napoleon as fully possessed, and which no-
thing but genius like his could have rendered endurable to a free
people. At the time in question, Mehemet was generally cen-
sured by Europe for affording his support avowealy to crush a
noble nation, instead of uniting with them, and thereby at once
securing the independence of both. But the annals of all ages
— the revolutions of South America not even excepted — have
clearly shown, that semi- savages confound the terms of republic-
anism and anarchy ; and that the reformer of Mussulmen cannot
favour liberalism, in the European sense of the word, without
hazard to himself, and nullifying his own power to do good.

The introduction of civilization into Egypt was not at the
desire of the superstitious and ignorant natives, but, on the
contrary, founded on, and the result only of, implicit obedience
to the unquestionable will of their pasha. It was his despotic
influence, solely, that empowered him to reclaim the wild Arabs,
and reconcile them to the restraints of European discipline. Had
he now aided the Greek revolution, he might as well have given
the watch-word to his own subjects to follow the example thus
set them, and disown in his person the self-same authority that
he taught them to overthrow in others. Neither by birth, by
country, nor by religion, was Mehemet a philhellenist, and it
requires a species of political obliquity to demand from him an
appearance in that character ! But he proved himself the friend
of humanity, and made the atrocities of barbaric warfare give
place to the laws of European hostility. He accustomed his
enemies, as well as his own soldiers, to that mercy and indulgence
towards the captured and wounded, which he himself exercised
ever after the death of his son.*

The battle of Navarin, and the arrival of a French expedition,

* Much has heen said of the cruelties committed by Ibrahim Pasha in the Morea,
and indeed the interest excited for the unhappy Greeks, made the sentiment creditable
to a'l the liberal parties. But the fact is, that Ibrahim was guiltless of any bloodshed
out of tlie field of battle. All the prisoners of war were sent by Inm to Egypt, and
were afterwards delivered up to the European consuls.

1888.] Mehemet Ali. 459

at length put nn end to the doiibttul contest, and Ibrahim Pasha
evacuated the Morea ; but the provinces of Greece had been
so dilapidated and dismenibereu, that the island of Candia
remained in his father's hands. We should say unfortunately,
for no benefit to mankind can possibly arise from an Asiatic, or
African ruler, presiding over a European state. His absolute
ideas of government can only tend to retard, instead of advanc-
ing, the march of civilization, where it requires no such im{)etus.
Another incident, insignificant in its origin, added to the viceroy's
already immense dominions, another country, at once important
and difficult to preserve. In consequence of a few deserters
having taken refuge in St. Jean d'Acre, Mehemet demanded
them from the pasha of the place, who, in accordance to the
instructions he had received from the sultan, refused to comply.
Ibrahim, the right hand of his father, immediately laid siege to
the fortress — tlie same where Napoleon once held his quarters,—
carried it, after a series of bloody actions, and became, in conse-
quence, lord over the whole of Syria.

Mahmud now found himself under the necessity of recovering
by force what he had lost by imprudence; and it followed that
vassal and liege, the two reformers and innovators of Islamism,
the destroyer of the Mamelukes and the annihilator of the
Janissaries, unsheathed their scimeters, and took the field against
each other. The advantage was evidently on the side of Mehe-
met. Mahmud only imitated his example: like him the sultan
felt the necessity of reform, and like him supported it by a newly
disciplined army; but was yet far behind his prototyjx?. It must
be confessed to his honour, that what he did, he effected under
great reverses of fortune, whilst the viceroy had every facility
afforded him by the invariable success of his arms, and came to
the combat with a reputation, in itself " a tower of strength !"'
'Die eyes of Europe were turned to Stamboul and Cairo, now

f)repared to rush upon each other like two enraged and jealous
ions. Two different races of mankind were now to try their
mutual strength in single opposition. Mehemet had reinspired the
Arabs with a feeling of their former importance, and they now
burned to distinguish themselves under the word of command
which had rung in their ears ever since the French invasion under
Bonaparte: " March ! Forward ! — They now advanced to demand
retribution from the Turks, for the infamous oppressions heaped on
them for three centuries and upwards ; whilst the Turks, though
also disciplined on the modern system, had lost, by their long con-
tinued disasters, that moral confidence in their own strength,
and tlie skill of their leaders, so indispensable to the success of
arms ; and the result was a complete victory gained over tbeni

2 H 2

4(50 Mekemet Alu [ApriJ,

by the forces of Mehemet, in the plains of Iconium, the cradle of
their former greatness and glory.

The sultan, hard pressed by his irresistible viceroy, was forced
to defend his capital by the interference of the Russians, who
possibly might have copied the conduct of the first Saxons in
Britain, had not England and France barred any specious pre-
text for their longer stay at Constantinople, by compelling
Mehemet to withdraw from farther aggression, and rest satisfied
with the wide conquests already in his possession.

In Egypt the progress of civilization is positive and uninter-
rupted ; since the people are mere machines in the hands of their
ruler, who directs at his own pleasure the enlinked mass, which
follows in blind acquiescence the impulse received from his will.
Mehemet, assuredly, must be reverenced by those whom he has
rescued from foreign bondage, and formed into an independent
nation. His commands they consider as conveying a divine
inspiration deigned by the Holy Prophet for their best guidance,
for they have seen every enterprise undertaken by Mehemet
crowned by fairest fortune.

In Turkey, where the first rays of enlightenment have been
introduced by a prince, whose own sun the people have witnessed
constantly eclipsed by defeat, or darkened by evil omens, the
Prophet cannot be supposed to extend his protection so manifestly
to the proceedings ol the sultan, — and civilization may possibly
for a time remain of a negative character, or increase but
slowly. The line of policy, however, pursued by Mehemet
Ali, with such admirable effect among nations who adhere to the
creed of passive fatalism, is by far too inflexible to be equally
successful with any people whose customs and religious doctrines
have rendered them more active both in body and mind. Thus
the Maronites and Druses were harshly treated by him, in order
to force them to resign their orthodoxy ; and no wonder that
they sold him the possession of their mountains as dearly as
possible. As to Syria, there is but one alternative left him,
either to alter the mode of government there, or to resign the
country entirely ; at all events, enough has already been shown
to him in the obstinate resistance of the natives, to prove that
when supremacy is too rigid to make allowances for different
customs and characteristics, it should be confined to homogeneous
nations. The power and influence of Mehemet in the East,
vanishes with the Arabic language, and in countries where other
tongues prevail, he can maintain his authority only by force of
arms. Nothing now is wanting to his fame, but to complete the
task which he has imposed upon himself, in the triple capacity of
a Revoiutionistj a Conqueror, and a Reformer*

1838.] Mehemet Alu 461

As a Revolutionist he has freed Egypt from the authority of
tlie Porte, deslroyecl the insatiable Mamehike locusts, overthrown
the encroaching Wahabites, and deprived the priestliood of its
secular jwwer.

As a Conqueror he spread his victories through Arabia, Nubia,
the Morea, Crete, and Syria.

As a Reformer he regenerated the nationality of the Arabs,
organized a regular army (Nizam), and introduced into Egypt
the arts, the sciences, and the industry of Europe.

In the two first of his three-fold offices, he has fairly wound
up his labours. In the last he is still making every possible ad-
dition to his noblest work. Prosperity to liis efforts — may he live
to see them consummated.

Art. VIII. — Irish TrantfulWty under Mr, (y Council, my Ijord
Mulgrare, and the Romish Priesthood. By Antliony Meyler,
M.D., M.II.I.A. Dublin.

DOCTOR Meyler is just the sort of tool that the gentle craft
of moderate Conservatism delights to work with. He
hath the devil of self-conceit beyond most doctors and all other
men, and being endowed with a copious and ready flow of words,
which he is quite willing to print and publish at his own cost, a
sly and malignant coterie, who do not like to burn their own
finjrers unnecessarily, find him a most convenient instrument for
their purposes. They have used him as such on more occasions
than one. A little flattery is all the return he demands for the
wear and tear of his brains, and the waste of his midnight oil.
He despises vulgar criticism — Satis est equitem plaudere. I^t
him only be puffed by the Standard, and " kudos'd" by the
Evening Mail, and he is blessed to his heart's content. No man
was ever more easily tickled with a straw.

It was tliought at one time, that nothing short of the floor of
the House of Commons would have served this cavalier as an
arena for displaying his prowess. And had he thrown himself
hito that assembly, with the facility that he possesses of amplifi-
cation, and of saying the same thing ten times over without vary-
ing the expression, the lullaby, at least, of the government had
been sung ere this. More than Lord Glenelg would have taken
their rest under the power of that spell. But Apollo, in an
auspicious moment, pinched his ear, reminding him, probably, in
the inspired numbers of an elder and somewhat wittier brother,
that

462 Dr. Meyler on Irish TranqulUity. [April,

" Physicians, if they 're wise, should never think
Of any arms, but such as pen and ink."

To those weapons, therefore, did our Machaon resort, deter-
mined to demolish the objects of his aversion according to the
oracle. But by an additional happiness in the luck of Whiggery,
he has been overruled to plant his battery in the printing-room,
where such black missiles lack force and direction, instead of
pouring them through the deadly chamber of the apothecary's
shop, from which eveiy shot might tell.

By his own account, and the concurrent testimony of common
£ime, we learn that Dr. Meyler was the son of

" A very valiant rebel of the name,"

who, like the sire of another shining light of this our day, Mr.
Emerson Tennent, carried on a retail dealing in the tobacco and
snufFline. Mr. Meyler, senior, however, was not satisfied with
that small traffic, but must needs try a venture also at practical
politics, a dangerous trade about forty years ago. He became
implicated in the rebellion of ninety-eighU — took an active part
in the fearful doings at Wexford, — and was, in consequence,
obliged to go into exile to America.* Our author at that period
was " yet a boy," — a precocious youth, however, who " had the
sagacity to understand what was going on," yea, to approve of it
alfin his heart's core. The hatred with which he pursues the
very name of O'Connell, seems to have originated at that early
period, when the most durable impressions are left upon the
waxen tablets of the heart. It was the fate of the Liberator,
then as now, to differ with Mr. Anthony Meyler as to the best
and most becoming mode of serving his country ; O'Connell
having always maintained, with a consistency which we greatly
admire, whatever Dr. Meyler and his friends may think of it,
that " Freedom's battle" is most effectually fought against its
domestic foes without shedding of blood. That doctrine, how-
ever, was too tame and insipin for our ardent young politician,
whose frank confession of early treason we must record in his
own words : — " My heart," he says, " went with it," that is, with
the rebel cause; while, he adds, with the bitterness peculiar to
civil dudgeon, -" Mr. O'Connell's Irish heart then thumped by
the side of his brother Orangemen in the ranks of the yeomen,
wearing the same uniform, shouldering the same musket, respond-
ing to the same bugle, and professing the same politics, — being
then most ostentatious in proclaiming his loyalty." In another

• It is but justii.-e to the memory of an honest man, to avoid misconstruction, by
adding our testimony to that of persons of every rank and denomination in Wexford,
in favour of the unblemished reputation of Dr. Meyler's father.

1888.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 463

place lie designates the honourable Member for Dublin by the
conterrptuoiis title of a " Triton of the Minnows," who " sedi-
tionizes under a legal quibble, and is a pettifogger in rebellion."

We ho|)e the English public will not fail to observe the kind
of reproaches with which the Orangemen now employ their scribes
to taunt Mr. O'Connell.

Mr. Anthony Meyler did not remain long in America, being
" completely cure«l," as he informs us, " of revolutionary pro-
pensities;" but what brought him home again to Wexford, he
does not mention. Probably he had a stake in the country^ which
required looking after ; not such a one, of course, as Keller once
complimented a learned friend of ours upon possessing, namely,
" a stake with a pike at one end of it;" for the air of revolution-
ary freedom had cured him of that " propensity ;" but such a
stake as enables him now to strut and fret his hour upon the
trottoir of Merrion Square, to write and publish unsaleable
pamphlets, to frequent the conversaziones of the Royal Dublin
Society, and to

« Shine in the dignity of F.R.S."

We omitted to state, in the proper place, that when this gentle-
man was in heart a rebel, he was also, by profession, a Catholic,
having been educated in that faith by " the accident of birth ;"
a phrase, by the way, of which he is fond, and for which he seems
to be indebted to his recollection of the facetious Jack Johnstone,
who, in an assumed character, gave a somewhat similar account
of himself, —

" I was bom one day, M-hen my mother was out
In her reckoning; an accident brought it about."

So goes the song ; and so it was apparently with the late Mrs.
Meyler. She was " out in her reckoning," if she supposed, as
no doubt she did, that she was bringing an accession to our
seven millions into the world ; whereas, in point of fact, her labour
produced but the germ of what Wolsey would have been surely
justified in calling " a spleeny Lutheran." Such, at least, we
are given to understand the young gentleman found himself,
intus et in cute, as soon as the mists of his accidental eilucation
had dispelled themselves ; although he still continued in ostensible
captivity to the bondage which, in his soul, he loathed. Thus
he playe<l the hypocrite for a considerable time ; but his motive
was a patriotic one : —

" As long as the chain of tempornl servitude was fastened to the
Roman Catholics, and as long as they were unwisely and unjustly op-
pressed for conscience* sake, I remained with them, — suffered my full
portion of their degradation, — and voluntarily subjected myself to the

464 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

heavy pressure of those restrictive laws which impeded me in erery
effort I made to advance myself in life."

It is not easy to appreciate the generosity of such self-immola-
tion ; for had Dr. Meyler made a public profession of Protest-
antism previous to the measure of Catholic Emancipation, who
can estimate to what a remote futurity the passing of that act
might have been retarded by so momentous a conversion ? In
waiting for the event which was to remove the imputation of in-
terested motives from his change, he stands in honourable con-
trast to the O'Sullivans and others, who, by their selfish eager-
ness to clamber out of the boat, and by the spring they made in
leaving it, had done their little possible to sink the vessel, or drive
it back into the current, together with all the company that chose
to remain behind. But the Doctor, albeit nauseating from his
inmost soul the tobacco fumes and other unsavoury exhalations
of his fellow-voyagers, kept his seat with a constant heart till the
craft was moored securely by the shore ; and then he shook him-
self and walked away like a gentleman, secretly vowing to sail in
such vile company no more.

He is now a Tory, basking in the grim smiles of Chief- Baron
Joy, honoured with the valuable friendship of Sir Robert Shaw,
and " responding to the same bugle" with the illustrious Captain
Cottingham ; distinctions which he prizes above those substantial
rewards of agitation which he might (if he tells the truth) liave
commanded, had it been his choice or his taste to linger a few
years longer among the liberal ranks. What those rewards would
have been, whether he would have succeeded the lamented Dr.
Cheyne as physician-general, or outflourished Crampton himself
in the Court of the Viceroy, he leaves the world to conjecture ;
but of this he assures us, tnat he might, " from the position in
which he stood, and through the influence of those who now com-
mand the Castle, have reaped the reward of his agitation." In
choosing, therefore, with Cato, the conquered side, he voluntarily
closes the door on his advancement. Exalted patriot ! When
the Tories come in, they must be guilty of more than their pro-
verbial ingratitude, if they do not consider such devotion to their
principles before all other claims.

This is as much as we know, and perhaps more than it im-
ports the public to be apprized, of the personal history and quali-
fications of Dr. Meyler. Let us now take a cursory glance at his
book.

Ireland, as may be inferred from the ironical title prefixed to
this publication, groans under the ban of a three-headed monster,
which Dr. Meyler, —

" The great Alcides of his company,"

18S8.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 465

takes upon himself to drag into the light of day, and expose to
the |)eople of England. For it is to " the people of England,
Radicals as well as Tories," that he writes, on the same calcula-
tion, i>erhaps, that M*Ghee crosses the channel to preach to them,
because their comparative ignorance of the political condition of
Ireland, which he professes to illustrate, renders them more
plastic to " ingenious devices," and their ears peculiarly open to
the reception of statements upon trust. We have no lear, how-
ever, of the result of the present clumsy attempt upon the credu-
lity of our British neightwurs; for, ready as numbers of them
may be to receive unfavourable impressions against a country
which has been for ages both misgoverned and misrepresented,
they are too wise and too generous to admit vague assertions,
uttered in a tone of furious party spirit, and without the shadow
of a proof to sustain any one oi them, in the place of evidence*
They must have at least the semblance of argument, or the ap-
pearance of facts, to ground an opinion upon ; but the confirma-
tion of facts and arguments will be in vain sought in the pages
before us, which are a mere tissue of impotent railing and frothy
declamation.

The first head of the tergeminous monster which bars the
access of the Orange faction to their lost Elysium, is that which

frows upon die shoulders of " My Lord Mulgrave;" and his
Excellency is consequently the princijial object of every attack
from that quarter. He would be, in truth, unworthy of the place
he holds in the respect and affections of all true Irishmen, if
every currish scribbler that either volunteers or is hired to vilify
our country, did not rush in the very first instance at him, by
the same instinct that makes a gipsy's or a poacher's dog bark at
an honest man. We hold it to be an impossibility honestly to
carry out the principles on which the noble Earl undertook the
government ot Ireland, and not be hated and abused by its an-
cient oppressors. To administer impartial justice, and extend
protection to all men alike ; to love mercy and practise it ; to
curb and chastise the insolence of petty tyrants ; to proceed with
honourable consistency in the course on which he set out, by
selecting for oflSce, and distinguishing with his confidence, men
capable of executing, in good faith, the details of his enlarged
and comprehensive policy ; and to give effect, without paltering
or equivocation, to the objects of the Reform Act, and the spirit
of Catholic Emancipation,— these are duties from which Lord
Mulgrave has never swerved, and which no man in his situation
could perform without drawing towards himself the implacable
hostility of every thorough-going Irish Tory. The acrimony
with which he ii. regarded by tliat ruthless faction, is the best

466 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

possible test of the genuine excellence of his government. For,
if he were only such a Reformer as some of his predecessors
were, the opposition to the measures of his administration would
be tempered by a show of tenderness towards himself; and many
a staunch old Orangeman would be found dangling about his
Court, professing, in the words of Swift, to

" Do the most that friendship can,
To hate the Viceroy — love the man."

But they hate both, because they know that his heart is on the
same side with the politics of his party ; and they hate him the
more, for the virtues which adorn his private life, and add a lustre
to his public conduct. His manly and intrepid character ; his
generous compliance (which even many of themselves have ad-
vantageously experienced) with every reasonable request;* his
unaffected courtesy of manner, such as could only proceed from
an ingenuous and kindly nature; and the clemency of his rule,
extending itself irrespectively and alike to all parties ; are qualities
to which, in ordinary circumstances, the Irish heart, whether it
beat under a green coal or a blue one, warms of its own accord ;
but the presence of these virtues in Lord Mulgrave ser\'es but to
increase the ill-humour of his detractors, and to draw out their
innate verjuice, just

" As Heaven's bless'd beams make vinegar more sour."

It appears to us that they could endure him much better, if he
possessed fewer of those qualities which conciliate affection, and
command respect.

Dr. Meyler does not fall behind-hand with those whom a cer-
tain crazy earl might call his " brother comrades," in doing
fearful homage to the merits of Lord Mulgrave's government, by
this species of " involuntary praise." All the common-places of
invective are ransacked for terms of rancour ; and although our
author steers wide of the rashness of citing particular cases to
justify his general philippics, he yet contrives to sauce them with
violations of the truth almost as glaring as if each statement were
accompanied with fictitious dates and names, to attract attention
to its fabulous character. That old story, the invention, we

* Several gentlemen, notoriously attached to the Tory party, have been promoted,
on the ground of personal fitness and capacity, to places of considerable emolument
and honour, by Lord Mulgrave. What Tory Lord Lieutenant ever did the same by
Whig aspirants to oflBce ? Major Warburton of the police, the Rev. Dr. Graham,
bead-master of Enniskellin School, the Surgeon-general Crampton, Dr. Adams, Mr.
Jameson, the rector of Carlow, and many others, have experienced the most valuable
proofs of his Excellency's readiness to serve the private interests of even a political
adversary, when his doing so involved no disregard of the pnncigles which lie him-
self maintains.

1838.] Dr. Moyler on Irish Tranqmllity. 467

think, of the Marauis of Londonderry, about O'Connell being
the master of tlie Viceroy, is brought up with more than the
usual flourish : —

" This vory man, there is every reason to believe, is the master of
the Viceroy ; that it is lie who directs into what channels the stream of
patronage is to flow ; that he appoints to the police and the magistracy,
and even to the bench ; and that he not only sways the patronage of
the Castle, but its policy also."

This is a fair sample of the indefinite and random nature of
the charge's brought forward in Dr. Meyler's book. The
sentence we h.ive just quoted is a short one, yet it contains six
propositions that are positively false, and which the author
cannot substantiate by a single proof. If, as he alleges, there is
" every reason" to believe that Lord Mulgrave is in so degraded
and subservient a position, it surely would not have been very
difficult to state explicitly one or two of those reasons. What
means that sweeping phrase, " the stream of patronage?" Are
we to suppose that it takes in the whole range of ecclesiastical,
as well as of civil promotions, which have been conferred by the
Lord Lieutenant ; and if it does, are we to understand that
Doctor Sadleir, Sir Henry Meredyth, Mr. Lyons, Mr. Bir-
mingham, and Mr. Tyrrell, are indebted to O'Connell's dicta-
tion for their recent advancement ? But if, on the other hand,
these are to be exceptions, then what becomes of the fine com-
prehensive metaphor of the " stream of patronage ?"

Well, but " he appoints to the police." Indeed ; since when,
" most learned Theban" ? It is a well ascertained fact, of the
knowledge of which Dr. Meyler, though ignorant of many
things, can scarcely plead that he is innocent, that from the date
of Colonel Shaw Kennedy's arrival in Ireland, to that of his
abrupt and somewhat huffish retirement, including a space of
nearly two years, he, and not Mr. O'Connell, had and used the
exclusive power of nominating individuals to the situation of
sub-constable, and promoting them to that of constable, in the
police. Those ranks comprise about nineteen-twentieths of the
whole force ; and amount to a considerable qualification of Dr.
Meyler's parrot-cry, filched from the lying columns of the Times.
But in addition to the above appointments, there is another
office, createtl under the last police act, to which many an indi-
vidual in that class of society which has afforded the most con-
stant and valuable support to Mr. O'Connell, and whose
interest he is always most anxious to serve, would have been
desirous to be promoted ; we mean the place of Jiead-constahle.
A hundred antl ninety persons, we believe, were raised in one
day to that enviable situation ; it was left perfectly at the dis-

468 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [ApriJ,

cretion of the Lord Lieutenant, both expressly by the act of
Parliament, and unreservedly, as far as regardecl the verbal
pledges of ministers in the House of Commons, to choose and
nommate persons to fill those situations ; and how many of them,
let the curious reader suppose, were placed at the disposal of his
" lord and master" Mr. O'Connell ? Not a sinele one. Colonel
Shaw Kennedy was requested to recommend individuals, serving
in the police, to be advanced to the new rank ; he did nominate
them alii and in every instance his recommendation was im-
plicitly complied with.

There are, however, higher offices than those we have men-
tioned, of which the government retains the patronage in its
own hands, for this good reason, along with many others, that a
great portion of its responsibility for the preservation of the
public peace — a responsibility not to be shifted or transferred to
other shoulders — depends on an efficient and temperate dis-
charge of the duties annexed to them. These are the chief-
constables of the first and second class, the sub-inspectors of
counties, together with the provincial inspectors, and, though
not immediately connected with the police, the stipendiary
magistrates. Lord Mulgrave has not delegated to Colonel Shaw
Kennedy, or to any subordinate functionary, the power of
nominating persons to fill tliese important situations. Yet, in
no instance, where the office, or the person designated to hold it,
were within the jurisdiction of the inspector-general, has an
appointment been made, or a promotion from an inferior to a
higher grade taken place, without first consulting him, and
submitting the individual, if previously unknown, to his ex-
amination. Thus was Colonel Kennedy invested, in all such
cases, with a peremptory negative ; his objections, when he had
any to make, having uniformly prevailed, to the exclusion of the
party, and that, against the implied wishes of the Lord Lieu-
tenant ; while his positive recommendations, which were neither
few nor unfrequent, rarely failed to receive a prompt and full
compliance.

Still, however, as the Lord Lieutenant reserved to himself the
right (which he is fully entitled, and, we will add, bound to do)
of consulting his own judgment and pleasure in conferring those
appointments, here — if anywhere — are the traces of Mr. O'Con-
nell's bugbear influence to be sought out. And what is the
evidence of facts, to bear out the oft-repeated assertion that he
" appoints to the police ?" Why, he is so far in favour with the
Government, to which he gives his powerful and disinterested
support, that an application oeing made, not by Mr. O'Connell,
or by any person in his name, on behalf of Mr. Nfcholas Ffrench,

1888.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 469

for the appointment of a 8ti|)endiary magistrate, Lord Mulgravc
was verily guilty in this thing; and Mr. LTrench, aitltongh
married to a daughter of tlie great Agitator, and by that knot
placed for ever out of the pale of all ** constitutional " favour, or
confidence, was sent to administer justice in a district of the
county of Limerick — tliat region which the redoubtable Captain
Vignolles considers synonimous with " confiscation and banish-
ment ;" and there, in a |)erfect understanding with the present
Government, he gives unqualified satisfaction to all denomina-
tions and degrees of the people.

We have diligently inquired into the number of chief-con-
stables and sub-inspectors who owe their appointments to this
ruler of the Government^ but we cannot discover one. Mr.
Ffrench, however, is in himself a »wj//<i/wt/e sufficient to prove
the terrible dictatorship which is exercised, and to convince any
mind that has but a reasonable bias to the right side, that
O'Connell is Lord Mulgrave's master, and " appoints to the
police."

But he appoints likewise " to the magistracy.^* If he does so,
he has much to answer for, that he has not made better appoint-
ments and more of them. But we are yet to learn whom he has
appointed, and where they are located i Are they in Carlow,
where the dignitaries of the quorum are suffered, for want of a
controlling or neutralizing power, to weed the panel* of every
name obnoxious to them on the ground of politics or religion,
and make an open mockery of the Jury Bill, even as certam of
the judges have done with the Reform Act? Are they in Tippe-
rary, where calendars are fabricated at petty sessions, and culprits
sent to trial on charges of murder, against whom there is scarcely
sufficient evidence to go before a grand jury to sustain Si prima
facie case of manslaugnter ?t Are they in Kerry, where a leg

• The petition of James Fox and others, lately presented to the House of Com-
mons, states distinctly — nor has the fact been called in question by any member of
Parliament, or even by the Tory papers — that certain magistrates, named by the
petitioners, illegally and unconstitutionally struck off one hundred and eighty-eight
names from the list of qualified jurors returned from the Barony of Carlow, being
considerably more than one half of the names relumed; and that the persons so
rejected are for the most part known Reformers, whilst the hundred and twenty-two,
who bare been retained, are, with few exceptions, violent Tories.

f In Judge Moore's charge to the grand jury of Tipperary, last month, ia the fol-
lowing extraordinary announcement.

" I find the number of prisoners charged with murder, and aiding in murder,
(which amounts to the same) srcrnfy-su-, and since I came to this town, four have
been added, making in all, righttf for murder. Gentlemen of the Grand Jury, it is
not the first time I have intimated from this place that it would be wise at leaat, if
nol j\x»i, to repretent the$e things in their true colours. Does any man believe there
are eighty persons to be tried fur the crime of murder »incc the last assizes ? On
reading over the calendu-, I find that not one case baa been set down as manslnvghUrr

470 l>r. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

of mutton has been known to do good service, and gratuitous
labour is sometimes used with effect to blind the eyes of justice?*
Or in Limerick, where, to the astonishment of half the world,
Mr. Darby O'Grady still burlesques the very name of authority,
perpetrating such outrageous solecisms upon law and good
manners, as makes all that we read of Squire Western and Good-
man Dogberry, not only credible, but most probable and truth-
like ? If O'Connell had a voice potential in the appointment of
magistrates, we must, in justice to him, declare our conviction
that such Midases as we allude to would scarcely be " left alone
in their glory," undisputed lords of the rustic tribunals and
supreme arbiters of the liberties of the poor. He would en-
deavour, at least, to infuse a little fresh and untainted Irish blood
into their worshipful body.

We hope that the day is at hand, when the besom of reforma-
tion will be carried in right earnest into that nest of privileged
depravity, so that not only oldstanding nuisances shall be re-
moved, but future mischief prevented, by the introduction of
such names into the commission as the people can confide in,
and as every friend to Ireland and its peace will be delighted to
see there. We have been long expecting a complete and
cleansing revision of the magistracy. The issue of the new
commission, under the great seal of her present Majesty, has
been retarded much beyond the ordinary period ; and we are
willing for once to believe the Times, that the delay is occasioned
by a close and searching inquiry, on the part of the Lord Chan-
cellor and the law officers of the Crown, into the merits and
qualifications of country gentlemen — as well of those who have
served their generation in this capacity, as of many who are as
yet untried — with a view to secure an efficient, an impartial,
and, as far as may be found consistent with a strict enforcement
of the laws, a popular magistracy for Ireland. Great, indeed,
will be the disappointment, and universal the discontent, unless
the purgation, which we all believe and trust the magisterial roll
is now undergoing, shall drive corruption into holes and corners,
and bring justice, pure and unsuspected, to the door of the
lowliest peasant in the land. Provided this effect be accom-
plished, the taunts of the Tory scribes and pamphleteers, or of

or juslijiable homicide, though I have no doubt that many of ihcm will be found to
be of that description. No — they are all indiscriminately set down as murder.
Where a life may be lost in a quarrel, it Is casting an indelible stain upon the country
to class it as murder. In many instances, where coroners hold inquests, and juries
return verdicts of justifiable or unjustifiable homicide, there is no distinction made in
the calendar ; they are classed under the head of murder !"

* See minutes of evidence taken before Mr. Shea L«lor and ^ajor Browne, at an
investigation laat year, which was held at Listowe].

1888.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 471

their masters in Parliament, are of little consequence; they are
quite welcome to call it the work of O'Connell, if they please.

But to the last and most audacious of these ridiculous accusa-
tions:— O'Connell appoints "even to the Bench.'''' To the Bench !
Does the gentleman mean the seats in the higher law courts, or
those only of an inferior mark and dignity? No matter which;
in either case he affirms rhat whicli is untrue, and which he must
be a very besotted politician indeed, if he does not know to be
untrue. We will not, however, weary the patience of our
readers by going over ground which has been so often beaten,
but shall merely ask Doctor Meyler, (if our humble voice can
reach so lofty a personage) by what confirmation, beside that of
his own sheer nnpudence, he can pretend to make such an
allegation pass ? Does he seriously mean to say that Lord
Mulgrave wanted any extraneous solicitations to induce him to
confer judicial appouitments upon three gentlemen, who suc-
cessively held the office of Attorney-General under him; or
would any sober man believe him, if he said that O'Connell had
the smallest share in appointing the Hon. Mr. Plunket, Mn
Stock, Mr. Wills, or Mr. Hudson, to the posts now occupied by
them ? We have not picked these names out of a number, but
take them in the order of their respective appointments, being
the names of the individuals who have last appeared before the
public, distinguished by the favour and preference of the Irish
Government.

I'he late triumphant contest in Dublin was a sore subject,
even when the Doctor brandished his pen some weeks before
the election committee was struck. It is more so now, since the
" temporary success" at which he sneers has been placed beyond
the power of chance or fraud to defeat it. But though we could
make allowance for a reasonable share of ill-humour in so pro-
voking a case, it is going a little too far even with righteous
indignation, to give vent to it in such hardy terms as these: —

" It is notorious that in the late election for Dublin, neither Mr.
O'Connell nor his nominee would have had the least chance of even
the temporary success which they have obtained, were it not for the
influence of the Castle. It was painful to see gentlemen compelled
either to leave their families without support, and relinquish situations
which they had so long and m) honourably filled, or vote in favour of
those to whose political and religious sentiments they were, on prin-
ciple, so strongly opposed. So low did the Government descend, and
so active were they in their exertions to obtain the return of Mr.
O'Connell to Parliament, that even the very tradesmen were tampered
with, and some who had the honesty to be true to tlieir principl(», and
to vote according to the dictates of their consciences, were ordered to
send in their accounts."

472 Dr, Meyler on Irish TratiqtuUity. [April,

To these statements the answer is very plain and very short —
they are false. The story of the tradesmen is a palpable re-
coction of Baron Tuyll's Torylike mission to Thompson and
Long in 1831; and with respect to the other circumstance, we
know not what " gentlemen" in particular are meant ; but this
we do know, that there are clerks at this moment holding con-
fidential and lucrative situations in the Castle of Dublin, and
removable at the pleasure of the Lord Lieutenant, who flatly
refused their votes to Mr. O'Connell at the last election.
Neither of these allegations, however, are of Dr. Meyler's in-
vention. They only "lay in his way, and he found them."
Mr. West havmg thrust them, as make-weights, into the body
of his petition, to aggravate the horrors of his repulse, and move
the sympathetic indignation of Andrew Spottiswoode and Com-
pany. But when his complaints came to be investigated before
a committee, he wisely withdrew those frivolous and vexatious
pleas, and concentrated the virus and the justice of his cause in
— the pipe-water, that continuous succession of mud refined,
which, somewhat like the flow of his own eloquence,

" Spouts — and spouts — and spouts away,
In one long, washy, everlasting flood."

O'Connell has often said of himself that he is "the best-
abused man in Ireland;" but that phrase is not applicable to
the abuse he receives from Doctor Meyler. It is not good abuse,
such as a man might wince under and quail to remember, in a
week, a month, or a year to come. 'Tis but the buzz of the
hornet without its sting, the effort of " the bluest of bluebottles,"
to vex and disturb by its drone, while in effect it only hums the
object of persecution into soft oblivion of real cares and tor-
mentors. Any old woman can fling a shower of liquid odours
out of her casement upon the head or a giant ; but to meet him
" beard to beard" is a work of more than anile or — which is the
same thing — Meylerian performance. Our author half con-
fesses as much when he says — " It is difficult to write of Mr.
O'Connell : one knows not how to handle such a subject." This
is no other than the complaint of Falstaff revived — " A man
knows not where to have her;" but in the present case it is
"mine hostess" who urges it, and not the fat knight. We
suspect, however, that Doctor Meyler is not the original dis-
coverer of so wholesome a truth. More expert handlers have
found it out before now, and taught puny whipsters caution by
their fate.

The Doctor is a mere scold — vox et preeterea nih/l ; he stands
at a distance and plies his oflfensive volley, like Gil Bias in his

18S8.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 478

noviciate, with his eyes shut and his head turned aside. The
consequence is that he shoots wide of the mark. Let the reader
just imagine such pellets as these being discharged at O'Con-
nell : — " No man can regard him as the advocate of religious
liberty;''^ and, "Ae never delivered an oration that a man of
ability would be proud to have spoken, nor uttered a sentence
that a man of taste ivould wUh to remember.^*

Dirt like this never sticks. Very frequently it recoils "to
plague th* inventor;" whereof we have a ludicrous instance in
an attempt — most classical, most melancholy — to show that
O'Connell has failed in Parliament.

" Even when in the House of Commons, though labouring to adopt
a more measured and elevated foim of speech, nature will still assert
her right: 'Si naturam furco expellas, lamen usque recurret.' "

How tritically sublime ! Would a sensible Tory disparage
liis own |)arty by thus vilipending an adversary who has scattered
terror through their ranks a hundred times ? Besides, when we
are told that Castlereayh was what O'Connell is not, that is
**most sincere" in his advocacy of the principles of religious
Hberty, who would hesitate between the censure and the eulogy
of such a critic ? Who would not deprecate his good-will with
more fer^'our than he would shrink from his animosity, and run
into any cranny to escape the bespatterings of that "very foul
mop," his praise?

The old leaven which first soured our author's boyish stomach
against O'Connell, is that at which his gorge still rises ; he would
not be a rebel in ninety-eight, and " it is quite clear that he never
did, nor does he now mean rebellion." We own that we can
see no great harm in all that; but there are numbers of excellent
Tories, as well as this mouthing Doctor, whose great quarrel
against O'Connell lies in this unaccommodating obstinacy of his
nature, that by all their wiles and guiles he cannot be induced
to " come out and be hanged." They think it would be con-
sistent in him to do so; but he hates consistency and won't
oblige them. This is very tantalizing, no doubt, and therefore
he well deserves to be esteemed, in the words of our eloquent
and pious censor, " A political monster, sent here by the myste-
rious dispensations of Providence to punish us for our trans-
gressions." Ah—

" Monstrum nulla virtute rcdemptum I"

Not even by the virtue of rebellion.
The reason assigned for this provokuig want of pluck to kick

VOL. IV.— NO. VIII. 6 I

474 T>r. Meyler on Irish TranquiUity. [Aprib

up " (I hit of a ruction''' is as old as the excuse of the soldier in
Horace — " He now enjoys all he wants and ail he contemplates" —

" King, Glamis, Cawdor ; all he had it."

It may argue a lack of spirit in us, that viewing the honour-
able member in that happy state of complete fruition, enjoying
all that he wants and all that he contemplates, we do pronounce
him to be quite wise to let well alone ; nay, we should look upon
him as a confounded fool indeed, if, even to allay the biting taunt
of the Tories, he should rebel in such circumstances. Why
should he rebel? Doctor Meyler testifies — and we believe it,
though he says it — that "he (O'Connell) does not really wish
to establish the dominion of the priests in Ireland."

We have the same authority for saying that he has no serious
intention of effecting a separation, alias, a Repeal of the Union ;
though, inconsistently enough with both these statements, we
are told that " he would doubtless be delighted to effect it, for
the priests and he would then in truth be the masters of the
country ;" and what is still more conclusive, and not the less
remarkable, because it is as high a compliment as could be paid
to the Earl of Mulgrave's administration of the laws, we also
learn, that "should the present Viceroy be continued, Mr.
O'Connell's connection with the Castle will render it necessary
for him not only to relinquish his hitherto lucrative trade of
agitation, but even, as far as he can, to put down the demon
which he has raised." All these are strong presumptions in
favour of Mr. O'Connell's continued allegiance, particularly the
last, for the present Viceroy will be continued, to the discom-
fiture of those who long to see the country in a flame. But
there remains yet another ground, greater than all the rest, to
justify the fears of the Tories that he never will be a rebel.
Our long-headed doctor, who ought to agnize the early symp-
toms in such cases, for he has experienced them in his own
body — inclines to the hypothesis, that after all — though the
honourable member already enjoys all he wants and all he
contemplates — yet wanting still more, and contemplating what
he does not enjoy, he will on some fine day, to oe hereafter
specified, we presume, in Murphy's Almanack y follow a most
respectable example, and turn Protestant. That will be a
great day for Ireland whenever it shall come to pass.

" It is not improbable," says this disciple of the Delphic God, " but
that his eyes may be again opened to the errors of the Church of
Rome, that the flame even of Protestantism might animate his Irish
heart, dissipate the mist that obscured his way to the woolsack^ and
enable him to quarter all the young Hannibals on tlie country, accord-

1888.] Dr. Meyler on Iriith Tranqiiillihj. A7§

ing to the most approved precedent of the Tory, Whig, and Radical
lord that now occupies it."

It la quite natural, we admit, for Doctor Meyler to lay that
down as the most appropriate terminus of the road which con-
ducts to worldly honours and distinction.

For which one, or for how many of all the crimes above
enumerated or anticipated, Mr. O'Connell deserves to be pro-
scribed and driven beyond the limits of civility, we are stift in
the dark ; but it is decreed. Yes — this non-rebel, par rontu-
mace, this non-repealer, anti-priest-supporter, contented Papist,
and Protestant in embryo, is outlawed ; there is no right hand
of fellowship to be extended to him ; even legal protection must
be denied him ; every imaginable sjjecies of warfare is to be per-
mitted against him ; and he is to be hunted down, like the un-
tamed and untameable vagrants of the forest and felons of the
fold. Hear the sentence —

" One is led to regard him as one of those /era natura (^farof^ our
Longinus is pleased to write it) against whom any mode oj warfare
IS JUSTIFIABLE; and we become unavoidably impressed with the
conviction that // is the imperative duty of every iiONEiiT man in
society to raise up, at least, his voice against so dangerous and so
abandoned an incendiary^ — p. 61.

Tlie worthy Sangrado seems to have perfected himself in
Christian morality among the '* honest men" who direct the
secret council of the trades in Manchester.

Last, but not least in hate, are the priests^ who cut a most
disreputable figure in these classic pages, as the instigators of all
the excitement, real or supposed, which our author describes,
and that for the puri)ose of shaking off the connexion with
Great Britain.

" There can be no doubt that there is a strong party in tliis country
anxious to effect its separation from England ; the lower classes are
all favourable to it — the priests, to a man, are bent on it. — I have no
doubt, but that if favourable circumstances offered, they would them-
selves, as they did before, raise the peasantry and head tliem ; and the
great cause of Mr. O'Connell's popularity with the revolutionists and
priests is, that there is in their minds a decided conviction that he
means rebeUion and separation, and intends at a proper time to bo
their leader and to re-establish the Uoman Church." — p. 96.

O'Connell stands already absolved, in the allowance of this
candid judge, of a real participation in such designs. The
priests do not appear to know him so well as Doctor Meyler
does ; for with his consent (as the Doctor very truly affirms) we
sliall have no rebellion, while Ireland is left under a government

2 I 2

476 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

like that of Lord Mulgrave. But in good truth it is rather a
serious accusation which is brought against the clergy of the
people ; and it would have been as well, perhaps, if it had not
been so roundly preferred without something in the shape of
proof or argument to sustain it. For although our author, in
such matters, has " no doubt," how can he tell but others may ?
It is exacting too much even from the credulity of the people of
England, who sometimes make it a rule to " see before they
doubt," to require their implicit assent to a jud<;nient, deeply
involving the character of about three thousand Christian teachers
— not even excepting one man of the number — on the credit of
so threadbare a quality as Doctor Meyler's assurance.

But there are proo^, aye, pregnant proofs, of an overweening
and usurping spirit among the priesthood :

" Instead of remaining in their chapels and confining themselves to
their religious duties, these clerical gentlemen now assume the first
places at dinners and public assemblies, strut about as public func-
tionaries, embellish the levee with their presence, and carrj' their courtly
accomplishments to the very table of the Viceroy." — p. 21.

Here are overt acts, the only specific ones which are stated,
and may we not therefore conclude — the only acts that can be
adducea in support of the rebellious impeachment ?

The attendance at levee constitutes the gravamen of this
charge. If the priests did not go there, they might leave their
chapels and neglect their religious duties, to the end of the
chapter, for aught that so enlightened a Christian as Doctor
Meyler would care. But the Orange party know too well what
brought Churchmen to the Castle of old, and what sort of counsel
they poured into the ears of authority, to sit easy under the
thought of any other clergy frequenting that venerable seat even
in its outward courts. "Thus conscience doth make cowards of
us all." It is quite true, indeed, that Archbishop Murray and
some half-dozen of the Catholic prelates besides — would we
could say all of them " to a man" — do sometimes appear — as
bishops — at the Lord Lieutenant's public levees. It is not alone
that they are habited, on those occasions, in their " customary
suits of solemn black," but — novum dictuque nefas ! — they wear
gold crosses, suspended by chains of the same costly and high-
reaching material, from their necks. We saw it with our eyes :
there is no getting over the fact.

As an extenuation, however, of what cannot be denied, it
might be pleaded, on the part of the intruders^ that if thev
should make it a point wholly to absent themselves on such
occasions, and remain cloistered " in their chapels," that might

18S8.] Dr. Meylei' on Irish TranquillHy. 477

be interpreted as a sign of doggo<l hostility to the British Crown,
refusing to relent even so far as to greet its representative,
though lie appeared in the most attractive and amiable guise
which could solicit their acknowledgments. Thus they were
placed between two fires ; and having chosen the part which is
at once respectful to the sovereign, and suitable to their own
rank and dignity, they must submit to be arraigned of high
presumption and arrogance, in affecting a display of pomp and
state, which the retiring clergy of the Establishment are said to
avoid.*

These instigators to rebellion, these insolent diners out, these
levee-hunters, must be extinguished. They are unmanageable
by any milder trejitment.

" With the priesthood of that Church j'ou can form no treaty ; you
cannot enter into any compromise with them ; there can be no
approximation on the part of the priest either towards the Church or
its ministers."-}- — p. 121.

It might be even conducive to " Irish tranquillity" to sub-
stitute collars of a more contractile nature, in the place of those
gold chains which have been spoken of; for

" A few salutary legal EXANfi'LES made of their reverences,
would have a most wonderful influence in effecting IranqiiillUy" —
p. 33.

• Our Doctor, although in general as far remote from " un animal risible," as any
doctor, apothecary, or man-midwife, that " e'er our conversation coped withal,"
waxes merry, in a note, upon this point : —

'* Wlicnever any unfortunate stray minister of the Established Church appears at
the levee, it is usual with those about the Castle to say, ' we have caught n parson.' "

This is " mi-jhti/ ntttt;" as Lady Morgan's guager would say ; but if Dr. Mcylcr
will vouchsafe just to drop in to his frieud Bartholomew, (who is one of those nhout
the Castle) the next time he hears of a good endowment or a snug benefice being at
the disposal of the Lord Lieutenant, he will find that the apparition of o /Hjntow
within the Castle walls is not by any means so wonderftil a phenomenon as he ima-
gines. Scarce as they may choose to make themselves at other times, they can
readily find out the way on those interesting occasions. We have seen as good as a
score of them " ploughing the halfacre," when there happened to be a carcass on the
wind.

t In striking harmony with this sentiment, are the following lines of a song,
entitled " Nulla jhix cum Roma," published in the Eceniiuj Packet of the 17th of
March, from the divine pen of the Reverend John Graham, Rector of Msgilligau,
in the diocess of Derry.

*< If these men truth and reason will withstand,^
Shutting their cars and heads against instruction.
Make no peace with them— give them not your hand —
Lest you be partners of their just destruction" 1

We refer, however, with much pleasure, to a document of a widely different cha-
racter, namely, a parting address to Bishop Haly (of Kildare and Leighlin) from his
late parishioners and friends of all denominations, at Kilcock ; which addreu,
breathing a spirit of Christian liberality and affection, was written and presented by
the Protettant rector of the parish.

478 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

At all events, the order must be abolished: —

" There can be no security for the country, nor no hope for its
civilization or prosperity, till this order is put down — * Delenda est
Carthago.' * * ♦ There can be no civil or religious freedom where
that Church has power ; there can be no security for their continuance
where that Church is permitted to exist. • ♦ ♦ Every engine and
power of THE State should be employed to crush that '■imperium in
imperio.' " — p. 121.

In the warfare which he wages against his mother'Church, it
is allowable, or, at least, we conclude that he deems it so, to use
any weapons that may serve his purpose, that pui-pose being
always to mislead the people of England. On that principle,
and with that object in view, he may possibly justify to his con-
science the employment of such a poisonous piece of slander as
the following : —

" A priest does not allow the validity of a marriage celebrated by a
Protestant clergyman; he considers the offspring of all such mar-
riages as illegitimate; he would not ordain the offspring of such a
marriage ; he would not allow them the civil rights of legitimacy.*' —
p. 121.

We take this out of a pile of surrounding rubbish, not that it
is the vilest calumny, nor anything like it, that he utters against
the Catholic clergy, but because it enables us to pin him to a
specific allegation more easy to be grappled with and confuted
than the numerous vague and wild-goose aspersions which are
scattered everywhere through this " little tract" of his. He
states that a priest would not ordain the offspring of a marriage
celebrated by a Protestant clergyman. Has he never heard,
then, of the Honourable and Reverend Mr. Spencer, who has
been within the last five years ordained to be a Catholic priest;
nor of Mr, Mills, a student of Trinity College, Dublin, the
offspring, we believe, ofa marriage solemnized by a Presbyterian
minister, and therefore farther removed from approximation to
what Catholics consider to be essential to the validity of a sacra-
ment,— who has been ordained duly and regularly in the Church
to the same office and ministry ? If he is aware of these in-
stances, (and we might cite many more) what is the world to
think of his honesty ? If he is ignorant of them, and yet pre-
sumes to write ana publish statements about what the Catholic
clergy do, and about what they would not do, it may be well to
remind him of a fact in natural history, that it is the peculiar
property of the cur to bark the loudest at those of whom he
knows the least.

And now having gone through, at much greater length than

1838.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 479

we had proposed to ourselves, tlic three heads of abuse aiid mis-
representiition into which the political thesis of our doughty
anatomist branches, we must proceed very briefly to analyse his
view of the " state of tlie comitry," and the mode of treatment
which he suggests.

Ireland, then — be it known to those who take an interest in
its concerns — is a complete chaos of misrule and iniquity at this
moment.

" A tremendous crisis is approaching, and wc are on the eve of a
struggle between the peasantry, goaded on by their priests, and the
Protestant Church and its members. — (Preface, p. 4'.) .... A great
and alarming crisis is impending. — (p. 1.) . . . . At no period Mithin
the recollection of tiie writer have revolutionary principles been so
prevalent and so openly avowed ; at no period was hostility to England
so sedulously inculcated ; and at no period did the country exliibit so
frightful an aspect of disorganization, of lawlessness, and of crime. —
(p. 14.) .... The country never was in so deplorable a condition as it
is now ; ribbon societies are more general, and more regularly orga-
nized ; and violence, intimidation, and murder, prevail in every part of
the country. — (p. 16.) ... . All the sources of industry are dried up ;
violence and murder prevail in every quarter ; the gentry are driven
from their seats ; all useful measures of improvement are suspended. —
(p. 10.5.) .... Crimes of the deepest die are publicly committed with
impunity ; property is destroyed ; the peaceful are assailed and dread-
fully beaten ; the crime of murder is of more than daily occurrence."
-(p. 18.)

Then there are more ihan three hundred and s:\xiy-Jice mur-
dern per annum ! This beats the calender of Tip|>erary all the
worla to nothing. But to proceed : —

" The Juryman dreads the consequences of his verdict" — p. 18. . . .
The landlord does not receive his rent nor the minister his tithe. — ib. . . .
The police do not afford adequate protection ; it has even been proposed
to let them out only on hire." — p. 19.

These several lamentations have we given in imissimu verbis
of the author. They compose a " relation — too nice" but happily
tiot " too true." Every thing approaching to a tangible state-
ment in his budget of horrors is either a gross exaggeration or a
()alpable fiction. The gentry driven from their seats— tlie land-
ords left without their rents — the juryman afraid of tlie conse-
quences of his verdict — the letting out of the police only on hire-
have no existence save on the canvass of the accomplished artist
who paints them. But the most dishonest of all, and the most
palpably malicious, because it is devised for no other purpose
than to create a false and injurious prejudice in a quarter where
there is no opportunity of ascertaining how false it is, is the

480 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranqmllity. [April,

imputation of " hostUity to England^ There never was a more
wilful or gratuitous slander uttered against the character of any
people. At no time since the two islands were placed under a
common sceptre, has there been less foundation to construct even
a plausible lie upon the subject ; for never before did there exist
a more unaffected or a more cordial disposition amongst the
Irish people to cultivate the friendship of their fellow-subjects of
Great Britain, and to desire well of them by every service of
neighbourly kindness and of political co-operation, which it is in
their power to render. The feeling of jealousy or aversion
towards England, which once prevailed— not without cause, we
will say ; certainly not without excuse — exists no longer ; nor
are there to be found amongst the religious instructors, or the
political leaders of our people, men base or unwise enough to
attempt to resuscitate that sentiment. It is the interest of Ireland
to be on terms of amity and reciprocal benevolence with her more
powerful sister; no harshness and injustice now operates to
disturb or prevent such a relation ; and the people of Ireland,
who are by no means blind to their own advantage, well know
how much it imports them to stand well with England, nor would
they hear with patience any person who should offer a contrary
opinion or advice.

The Orange faction indeed, who are by themselves utterly
weak and contemptible, view this increasing bond of strength in
their opponents with great and well-founded alarm. All the
unnatural power and importance, which they possessed in the
bygone days, were derived from the supposed necessity of keeping
up an English party in Ireland. They contrived to palm them-
selves upon the empire for an English party, when their real
policy was to hold the country, not for England, but for their
own knavish and jobbing purposes, and to make it not only an
useless but a dangerous and disgraceful incumbrance to the
British crown. In that they succeeded too well, and unhappily
many degrading consequences of their vile misgovernment still
remain to the discredit of our name and nation. There was no
principle held dear and sacred by Englishmen, which they did
not violate — no institution which Englishmen revere that their
iniquitous and perverse domination did not render an object of
horror and disgust. These are the persons whom it now concerns
to inculcate, anxiously and sedulously, the belief of hostility to
England ; and therefore has this velper of the pack received his
cue to make that the keynote of his song.

The general howl which he sets up about disorganization,
revolution, violence, and such like, we shall not be expected to
analyse, any more than an accused party would be required to

I

1838.] I>r. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 481

wn&y/QT seriatim all the verbal and arfwriw/ adjuncts, used to set
off the leading count in his indictment. Dr. Meyler himself
shows that these " swelling epithets," albeit —

« Thick laid
As varnish on a harlot's cheek,"

are but the appropriate adorn ings of a truly meretricious elo-
quence, and of no farther significance whatever. By admissions
which he makes, we collect that "disorganization" means with
him a state of not being organized ; and that " lawlessness" and
more than " daily murders'* are elegant pleonasms, to express a
portentous calm, and (if we rightly explicate his "parts of
speech") a nation asleep upon a volcano, which is not flaming
yet, but intends to break out some time or another.

Thus after declaring that " at no period did the country
exhibit so frightful an aspect of disorganization, of lawlessness,
and of crime," he says : —

" There may have been times of greater actual crime, i\\c prisons
may have been more crowded, and the criminal calendar more loaded.**
—p. H.

And again : —

" No preparations now exist among the leading agitators for orga-
nizing a rebellion, or for arming the people. — p. 50. ... As far as «c
have any means of information, there is not now in Ireland, as there
Mas in 1798, any regular organization amongst the agitators, for
the purposes of rebellion. In my estimate of them, I would say they
have neither the talent nor the energy to organize one. They have no
such men amongst them as Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Tone, Emmett,
Bond, O'Connor, and others ; compared to whom, our agitators of the
present day are but as puny whipsters 1 whose policy seems to be to keep
up the game of agitation, and wait /or the tide of events." — p. 50.

And yet **a great and alarming crisis is impending" — and
" ribbon societies" (which are held to be the very nuclei of rebel-
lion, and workshops of all seditious agitation) "are more general
and more regularly organized" than ever was known before I

Again he says : —

*' The priests and their instruments have suspended agitation." — p. 1 1 8.
. . . The means by which her Majesty's representative is now enabled to
preserve any semblance of tranquillity is by their influence." — ih. . . .
We repose — on a volcano" [but Me do "repose"] "and government
have bribed the disloyal into a suspension of their revolutionary agita-
tion."— ib.

The volcano is a favourite image. Dilating elsewhere on the
same topic, he says : —

" The frightful scenes of outrage and of murder with which the

482 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

press {The Evening Mail, to wit) daily teems, are as the showers of
aslies from the crater, which proclaim the fire that rages within." — p. H.

In good sooth he seems, hke many an honester fellow, to be a
little too fond of "the crater.^* It is to be noted, however, that
he does not venture any where to proclaim that an actual erup-
tion has taken place.

Let us now leave these very consistent testimonies of the
frightful aspect and impending crisis of the patient, and mark the
mild physician's prescribed course of treatment. How he is dis-
posed to proceed towards the priests, we know; and to what
protection he would abandon O'Connell, we have an inkling.
To Lord Mulgrave a hint is thrown out (of which we shall have
a word to say by and by), that it may be advisable for him, in the
neck of these troubles, not to wait to have his passport made out
secundiim artem, but bend his course, without leave-taking, back
to Yorkshire, and leave this green isle of ours for Doctor Meyler
to bustle in.

Having Ireland thus to himself, our Hippocrates would begin
at once to

*' cast

The water of our land, find her disease.

And purge her to a sound and pristine health."

Imprimis, then, he would begin with "strong measures."
Quacks always do, and regular diplomatists sometimes : —

•' Even the English Radical," he says, " will concur in the necessity
of strong measures to preserve the integrity of the empire, and to save
Ireland from the abhorrent dominion of the Church of Rome and its
priesthood." — p. 125.

One of the earliest measures to which the English Radical
would be required to yield his concurrence is the suppression
of the right of petition.

" Unle«!8 lawless meetings, Mnrf«r the pretext of petition, are prevented,
the agitators, aided by the priests, when they have no longer a selfish
and subservient government at their command to advance their objects,
will again congregate the people in large and turbulent assemblies, to
overawe the peaceable, and to maintain their own bad, mischievous, and
lawless dominion." — p. 124-5.

We thank him for this plain confession that the Tories are not
such drivellers as to dream of ever being able to regain their old
dominion and to keep it, without virtually abrogating that con-
stitution for which they pretend to be so great sticklers. The
royal license, therefore, must be withdrawn from the "farce of
county meetingsy' and all public displays of popular sentiment
put down, at the risk even of a second Peterloo. It'will follow, of
course, that the Curfew Zott^must be re-enacted; for, as the Duke

1888.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 488

of Wellington says, there can be no such thing as " a little trnr,"
— no, not even against liberty ; and thd same paternal govern-
ment which interdicts the right of petition, will also, nay must —

" ConstitiitionaUy lock
Your house about your ears."

Another principle of government with which the English
Iladical is ex|)ectetl to coincide, is, that —

" The aristocracy should rule the mob, and not the mob tlie aristo-
cracy."— Preface, p. ix.

The old doctrine — of some practical efficacy in England, and
which Lord Mulgrave has been so honourably abused for en-
forcing in Ireland — that neither the aristocracy nor the mob
should " rule," but that both should be ruled by the law, is, of
coui*se, to be exploded.

The " English Radical" is not expected to do the dirty work
of the Orangemen for nothing. He shall have a sop, to reward
his anticipated compliance with the strong measures of the Meyler
dynasty ; and, in truth, he will require it, for the suspension of
Iiabeas Corpus, and the re-establishment of an irresponsible iron
oligarchy, are draughts to which even the Oastler-Thompson
school of Radicals (and surely to none of any other school is this
joint warfare against Irish liberty proposed) can scarcely recon-
cile their consciences, without some soothing syrup or appliance.
Therefore there are to be — " ameliorations ;" and proved abuses
must be rescinded. But these improvements are to be worked
out gradually and in order. The do-little-and- will -do-less maxim,
once propounded by a noble and learned lord (who now demands
the annihilation of both time and space by those who pretend to
do any thing at all), is to be carried out in all its glory: and
highly fl.ittering, to be sure, it must be to the self-esteem of that
illustrious individual, to find his former notions so well expounded
in the lucid and constitutional periods of Dr. Meyler : —

" There is a progressive order in man's intellectual progress — poli-
tical power, therefore, should be progressive also ; it should be imparted
only as wisdom, knowledge, orderly ha))its, and wealth, progress with it.
All useful ameliorations in the abuse of government must be the result
of time, of experience, and of intelligence ; they must be gradual also."
— Preface, p. xi.

Here is the festina lente system beautifully and clearly laid
down. The Aloe of Reform — which now sprouts in the Conser-
vative Forcing-house, a vigorous seedling — will, no doubt,
" blossom, ancY bear its blushing honours thick upon it," if the
ijeople will only have patience and wait a hundrea years. But,
in order that this progressive order may begin its progress and
advance to the perfect satisfaction of all the progredient parties,

484 Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. [April,

it is necessary that the Tories (who have been latterly rather on
a retrogressive pas) shall forthwith progress into place, and put
their notions with regard to the " pretext of petition," and the
sway of the Great Few, into execution. Under any other direc-
tion, amelioration might not progress at the pace to be exactly
approved of. It might haply outstrip the March of Intellect,
and then would ensue a race, perchance a steeple-chace, neither
orderly nor comfortable to behold.

But how to set matters in the proper train for a safe and
equable start— that is the question. One thing is certain, that
the Whigs are in, and won't go out, being to persuasion or re-
monstrance equally deaf. As regards Ireland, Lord Mulgrave
has climbed the tree of office, and clings to its loftier branches
with a most displeasing and vexatious tenacity. If words and
clods could have dislodged him, Dr. Meyler and his party had
not laboured in vain, for they have given him mud enough.
What, then, remains, but the ratio ultima — " try what virtue
there is in stones^ So says our loyalist, without mincing the
phrase in the least; and we cannot refuse our tribute of "honour
to his valour ;" —

" Unless Lord Mulgrave be at once recalled, and a new system of
policy be pursued, the Protestants have no alternative but to arm
THEMSELVES and confederate for protection." — p. 124.

Such is the sum and substance of Tory sympathy, and of Tory
Justice for Ireland : — O'Connell proscribed, and a price perhaps
set upon his head — the priests put down — their Church not per-
mitted to exist — a virtuous government expelled — popular free-
dom extinguished even in name — the aristocracy (and such an
aristocracy !) rampant — and the Orangemen — for these, in Dr.
Meylcr's acceptation, are ^^ the Protestants,"* — in arms!!!
Then will the halcyon expand her sparkling wings over our
troubled waters; Ireland will be at peace; oraer will rule in all
her habitations. Yes — the peace of the deserted village, and
such order as " reigns in Warsaw."f

" But of enough — enough." Some apology is perhaps due to
our readers for detaining them at so great length in examining
the frothy effusions of a frivolous and empty liead. The inco-
herent and random defamation of the lowest Orange newspaper,
deserves as well, in respect of its literary pretensions, the distmc-

• " The Liberal Protestant (he says) has become obsolete."

f The memorable words in which the Czar proclaimed his triumph over liberty
and justice, when last — and, we fervently pray, for the last time —

" Sarmatia fell unwept without a crime." ,

The haughty insulting savage concluded his ruthless boast of the desolation he had
caused, and described the despair and prostration of a fallen people with tliis phrase —
" Order reigns in Warsaw !"

1838.] Dr. Meyler on Irish Tranquillity. 485

tion which our pages can afford, as those dull and peevish lucu-
brations. Indeed, we owe even the Warder an amende for the
comparison. Neither on personal grounds does it signify to any
human being whether such an author bemauls his ibes with all
sorts of English, plain and ornamental, or

" Hurls his piebald Latin at their heads."

One farthing would ho about the highest amount of special
damages that an honest jury could award to any of the parties he
attacks, for the hurt inflicted by the farrago of his libel. But
these tilings are often less contemptible, when viewed in con-
nexion with other circumstances, than, looking simply at the
author, one mij^ht be disposed to consider them. Dr. Meyler is
the pet of the taction ; he is their confidential pamphleteer ; they
clap him on the back for his malignant aburdities, cause them to
be eulogized in their official journals and magazines,* and by every
possible mode of approval and recognition, adopt and ratify his
sentiments as their own. This consideration, founded on unde-
niable facts, communicates an importance to his railings and his
revenges, which otherwise they could never acquire. As the
manifesto, therefore, of the Kildare Street Clubs — for we believe
there are two of them — and echoing the aspirations and designs
of many who, in a change of government, would unquestionably
be advanced to high political and judicial station in Ireland, we
have thought this Dook of Dr. Meyler fully entitled to a serious
notice.

Art. IX. — T7ie Bishop of Exeter^ s Speech, f Mirror of Par-
HamentJ 1838.

THE speech lately spoken by Dr. Philpotts in the House of
Peers, for the purpose ot charging the Catholic members
belonging to tlie lower House with perjury^ has not been suffered
to make its way throughout Eurojx} by the aid only of the
diurnal press. Those wlio have been inJuced by his Lordship's
arguments to adopt his conclusions, have thought it worthy of
their zeal to throw his reasonings into a pamphlet-form, in
order to preserve them from the more rapid oblivion which com-
monly awaits the perishing communications made through the
public journals. This provident design of protecting his Lord-
ship's speech against too hasty a disappearance from general

* See the Dublin Univertily Magazine for April, for an eulogium on the vndinita^le
moderation of the work we hare been noticing.

486 TJie Bishop of Exeter^ [April,

notice, seems to iis to be the offspring of aggravated fear and
unnecessary caution. The great reputation of the right reverend
speaker ought to ensure an earnest attention to whatever he may
be pleased to say or to write. His great acquirements, his well-
known talents, his experience in disputed questions of the first
importance, his logical acuteness, are quite sufficient to give the
stamp of currency to whatever may fall from his Lordship in his
addresses, especially to the illustrious assemblage of which he
constitutes so important a member. Even although those
eminent qualities were less in favour than they happen to be
with the noble auditors of this distinguished debater, neverthe-
less would the subject-matter of his late oration insure a deep,
troubled, and most anxious regard, not only in every quarter of
the United Kingdom, but in every state and nation ol Europe.
To reiterate against a considerable portion of the representatives
of the United Kingdom a charge of treachery aggravated by
perjury, is enough to startle the intelligent portion of mankind
throughout the civilized world. That any portion of the legis-
lature of the British people should be so branded, is enough to
disquiet the moral feeling of all civilized, nations. If the charge
be well founded, it is a blur upon the human character ; if other-
wise, it cannot be considered in any other light tlian as one of the
most dangerous, and desperate, and unworthy accusations, that
ever was yet advanced by mortal man.

In support of this accusation oi perjury ^ there is the Bishop's
own train of reasoning. The grand question with the just and
upright will be, does tlie reasoning bear out the impeachment of
perjury? If it do, the verdict, however reluctantly delivered,
can be only of one sort ; if it do not, if it be insufficient not only
to bear out, but to give a colour to the charge of perjury, it may
be fairly apprehended that the learned and distinguished accuser
cannot escape a judgment somewhat more harsh than mere censure.

It will be observed that the arraignment for perjury of so
many Catholic members of the House of Commons, is placed on
this simple ground, viz. that they, the Catholic members, who,
on presenting themselves at the table of the House of Commons
to quality for taking their seats, did take an oath, to the purport
set forth in the learned prelate's speech. That is to say : —

" I do swear that I will defend to the utmost of my power the set-
tlement of property within this realm, as established by the laws ; and
I do hereby disclaim, disavow, and solemnly abjure, any intention to
subvert the present Church establishment, as settled by law M-ithin tliis
realm : and I do solemnly swear that I never will exercise any privilege
to which I am or may become entided, to disturb or weaken the Pro-
testant religion or Protestant government in this kingdom : and I do

1888.] and the Catholic Oath. 48?

solemnly, in the presence of God, protest, testify, and declare, that I
do make this declaration, and every part thereof, in the plain and
ordinary sense of the words of this oath, without any evasion, equivo-
cation, or mental reservation whatever."

Perjury, or no perjury, is the question ; and in order that tliis
be decided accordnig to any known principles of justice, we must
scrutinize the conduct of the accused parties, with a reference to
the strict terms of the obligation sworn to. And in this sense,
it is but fair, and no concession of favour whatever, to consider
the oath so far in the nature of a penal statute, that it be strictly
interpreted; for \i \.\\e perjured violation of the oath be averred,
it is distinctly obligatory, on the part of the accuser, to show
those acts plainly, and without the obscurity of a shade, by which
the crime was committed. Perjury is a dreadful charge. No
man should dare to impute it to an individual, and still less to
a class of persons of weight, character, and condition, — invested
with one of the first of all human trusts, upon the due discharge
of which depends the welfare of millions — upon light surmises,
uncharitable suspicions, or unfriendly speculations. A crime so
direct against the majesty of God, and so detrimental to man,
and a conviction for which is sure to be followed by exclusion and
moral exile from the society of the virtuous and religious, ought
to stand upon a basis of truth sufficiently clear and satisfactory
to the most scrupulous and conscientious friends of real justice.

Now it is asked, in what instance has the alleged perjury been
committe<l? The charge is distinctly directea against the /j^r-
liamentary conduct of tlie jurors. \Vhat they may do, in their
ordinary capacities as mere individual members of society, is
utterly dehors the present question. Their opinions and senti-
ments, their habits and feelings, are altogether out of considera-
tion. If these things were in themselves moral obstacles to the
attainment of a political share in the commonwealth, it could
only be under a system of tyranny, which the people of England
would not endure for one day; and that they were very justly
not considered to be so by the legislature of 1829, the oath
alluded to unequivocally demonstrates. The charge, then, con-
templates parliamentary conduct alone ; and we would know
from the Bishop of Exeter — for his printed speech does not
afford a spark of evidence on the pomt — what parliamentary
conduct, on the part of the Roman Catholic members of Par-
liament, amounts to a breach of any one of the clauses which
constitute the substance of the oath ? Have they attempte<l to
shake the foundations of property as established by law ? Have
they, as members of Parliament, endeavoure<l to subvert the
present Church Establishment ^ What bills have they brought

488 The Bishop of Exeter, [April,

into Parliament for that purpose? What privilege have they
abused, by exercising it to the disturbing or weakening of the
Protestant religion, or Protestant Government, in these realms ?
To these plain questions negatives must be given — and then
what becomes of the charge of perjury !

As the accusation assumes that tne parliamentary oath was
framed solely with relation to what Roman Catholics may do as
members of the Houses of Parliament, one would have expected
something better from a profound dialectician like the Lord
Bishop of Exeter, than slu'eds and patches of extracts from
speeches, delivered at tavern-feasts and electioneering assemblies,
by Mr. O'Connell and Mr. Shiel. So good a logician must
have known that those fractions of harangues which he con-
descended to stuff into his speech, never could have propped
up the inferences of perjury^ which he was so anxious to arrive
at. Nor could the respectable scruples of Mr. Petre and
other honourable men among the Roman Catholic members of
the House of Commons, (if really entertained, which we some-
what doubt) afford better assistance in arriving at the favourite
and desired conclusion of perjurpi in those from whom those
gentlemen differed. They were all equally free to follow their
own courses. Men will differ in matters of opinion and senti-
ment in Parliament as they commonly do out of it, but the
difference is not in itself matter of reproach to one party more
than to the other ; and even though one should be deemed to
have acted with more apparent delicacy than the other, still, in
the rough tasks which political duties will sometimes impose on
public men, that is as frequently worthy of approbation which
arises out of clear views of public policy, as out of nice sentiment
of party delicacy.

There is more than one fallacy at the bottom of the Bishop's
argument, for he not only relies upon things reported to have
been said and done in various other places than the Houses of
Parliament, and by Catholic churchmen also, in order to make
out his case of perjury, but he also, with a very extravagant
confidence, thinks he can collect abundant proofs in favour of
his accusation when he takes up the tithe question, and the part
pursued by the Irish Catholics in Parliament in the various
discussions which have taken place from time to time on that pro-
lific and troublesome question.

It is a matter of universal notoriety, not to speak of the aboli-
tion of agistment tithes, that for upwards of fifty years tithes
have been the standing cause of universal popular vexation,
especially in Ireland, where the people being dependent upon
agriculture for means of social as well as of animal support, must

18S8.] and tfie Catlu>lic Oath.

necessarily feel the burdens which the laws have placed on the
laud and labours of the country, with irritated im{)atience. It
cannot be necessary to go over the catalogue of barbarous out-
breaks which have thrown that part cf the United Kingdom into
convulsion, disorder, and crime ; those melancholy occurrences
have made their own impression too strong upon the public
mind to be hastily effaced. Committees of Parliament have
given the subject serious investigation ; and if there be any
result more explicitly demonstrated than another, by the evi-
dence of witnesses of all descriptions, Protestant as well as
Catholic, it is simply this, that there prevails in Ireland a uni-
versal desire that the country should be relieved from this
constant annoyance and oppression. There could be no scheme
of adjustment in mitigation of this source of general complaint,
which could be limited to a few simple conseouences. The
tithes are interwoven with all the interests and relations of pro-
perty throughout Ireland. From the lord of the fee, down to
the occupying labourer who tilled the soil, the tithe system
presses in various degrees and proportions of vexation or hard-
ship. It was impossible for any legislature to overlook so
singular an example of national complaint, and in which there
was no intermission of remonstrance and reclamation. Whether
the tithes be the most proper mode by which the sacred offices
of the clergy should be requited, is a matter into which it is not
intended to enter in this place ; but surely a most reasonable and
justifiable desire may be fairly supposed to exist, for bringing
about some mild and benignant changes in the entire tithe
scheme, without placing the design upon the odious and unjust
ground of a preconcerted plan for the spoliation of the property
of the Church, and for the ruin of its clergy. The condition of
the ministers of the Established Church would be singularly
infelicitous if their case alone were to preclude the possibility of
any change, let the effect upon the rest of the nation be ever so
injurious or vexatious ; and a legislature which could consider
itself incapable of substituting some other arrangement less
irksome and grinding to the community at large, and full as
liberal and satisfactory to the clergy, would exhibit such an
excess of moral impotence and imbecillitVj as must render it an
object of contempt in the view of every rational government in
the world.

The Government of the Unite<l Kingdom is essentially Pro-
testant; and to assume that such a Government would direct all
its powers towards the overthrow of its own Church and clergj',
is as bold a begging of the question as a bad logician ever ven-
tured on. The nnnisters of^ the Government are sworn — and

VOL. IV. NO. viii. 2 K

490 The Bvtliop of Exeler^ [April,

nobody accuses them of perjury — to protect the Church estab>
lished by law. Neither the Duke of Wellington nor his colleague
in office was accused of that odious and scandalous crime when
they brought in the Relief Bill of 1829 — and yet upon a mere
matter of argument regarding the tithe bills which have been so
frequently brought into discussion — and which bills, let it be
observed, in pomt of principle^ were inevitable consequences
resulting from the passing of the Act of 1829 — it has been
rashly, ungenerously, and most unjustly, charged against the
Catholics in the Houses of Parliament, that they have committed
the infamous crime of perjury.

The Duke of Wellington, it will be remembered, as well as
Sir Robert Peel, withdrew from the administration of which
Mr. Canning was the head. The reason for having done so,
was, that those distinguished persons were so attached to the
Established Church, that they would not sit in the same cabinet
with a premier who inclined towards conceding, without quali-
fication, the claims of the Catholics to share and enjoy the
honours and benefits of the English Constitution. After the
demise of the Duke of York, those eminent statesmen consented
to introduce the bill against which they had so fastidiously pro-
tested during the life of his royal highness, although by that act
the external fences of the establishment were supposed to be
exposed to considerable peril. The very persons who while
they were in opposition prognosticated divers calamities to both
Church and State, if ever the Catholics should be admitted to
share in political power with the Protestants, when they became
ministers themselves, did not scruple to invert their professed
policy — and they reconciled the revolution in their minds
and conduct to their sense of consistency, by framing this oath
for the preservation of Church and State, of which Dr. Philpotts
has made such unseemly and such illogical uses. If declarations
made at taverns, and other places of meeting, by Mr. O'Con-
nell and Mr. Shiel, as well as by others of the same religious
communion, be twisted into the obligations and conditions of a
compact, why may not the more grave and serious declarations
of two persons, by means of which they had smoothed their
access to power, be considered also to have the force of a com-
pact— and to expose the tergiversation of those ministers to re-
proach and upbraiding?

After a considerable share of abortive labour, the Bishop of
Exeter falls short of the conclusion at which he struggles to
arrive. The bare idea of a compact between the sovereign
power of a state and any given portion of the people, is a poli-
tical absurdity. The legislature is bound by irrefragable obli-

1838.] and the Catholic Oath. 491

gations, the cancelling of which can never be presumed, to pursue
and adopt such measures as it may conscientiously consider to
be essentially necessary towards the general welfare of the nation
at large. Policy and justice never intermit in their claims.
Good and wholesome laws for the whole of the people constitute
the true and proper purpose of all governments. Compacts may
be formed between independent governments, but nothing of the
kind is imaginable between tlio fc)tate itself and its own subjects.
The animnH imponentis has no influential power between the
legislature which proceeds to restore political power and those
from whom it had been violently wrested ; and the class, descrip-
tion, or sect, selected out of the body of the people, from whom
the precautionary procedure may be exacted, have as good a
right to put their own construction upon it, as a political cere*
monial, as those who may have framed it, not upon any direct
sense of its necessity, but as a pious imposture adopted to quiet
the apprehensions of prejudice or bigotry. The paramount duty
of a member of the House of Commons is, to bear his part in
public deliberations for the peace, happiness, and welfare of the
people; and if it were possible — which most indubitably it is
not — to cramp him in the free exercise of his complete functions,
it would be a constitutional obligation virtually imposed on him,
and paramount to all others incident to his representative
station, to break through those bonds by every moral means which
may lie within the reach of his power. The Constitution of
England does not recognize mutilated power or fractional privi-
lege in the representative of the people. That trust once con-
ferred, shackles and trammels of all kinds drop at once, and he
becomes a moral being, uncircumscribed and disenthralled of all
checks and restraints, save what is common to every other mem-
ber, who, like himself, is placed under constitutional respon-
sibility for his actions in Parliament. If the Duke of Wellington
and Sir Robert Peel wrsuaded themselves that any oath — but
especially one which has the stamp of their statesmanship upon
it — could confine Catholic representatives within narrower limits
than those that are known and enjoyed by Protestant members,
they showed themselves to be but very simple and very inex-
perienced politicians. Oaths are not designed, by tlieir very
nature, for any purpose of political security. They belong to
the administration of justice. They are the tests of moral
veracity, which the living God is invoked to witness. Bungling
politicians, who are wearv of following out principles and details
through all their ramifications, always stop short and botch up
their projects with some such crude expedient as an oath ; and
hence it comes that under the administration of British govern-

2 k2

492 The Bishop of Exeter^ [April,

ment, the people are obliged to swear their way through all the
departmental details of the executive. A more futile resource
for the preservation of the Church and State than the oath
which the Catholics in Parliament are accused of having violated,
never was invented in any age or country by the simplest of all
simple law makers. When tne noble duke and his distinguished
coadjutor abjured their Protestant policy, they certainly had
some difficulties in the way; but for these they had, in a con-
siderable degree, to thank themselves. Before the miraculous
light broke upon them, they did not cease to tell the people, year
after year, that the implacable enemy of the religious faith and
the political institutions of England, was the Catholic energy.
If they thought so, it was their fault that they relied upon the
feeble formality which they exacted from every Catholic member
of Parliament previously to taking his seat. Those states-
men had opposed Catholic emancipation as being full of danger
to the State; but they supported it, as being quite compatible
with the perfect security of the State ; and truly the Bishop,
notwithstanding all his vigorous pamphlets against the Catholics,
was deeply implicated in the inconsistency which this miserable
oath was invented to varnish over. Such as that oath is, it
stands inviolate to this hour. There is nothing in its spirit or
in its letter which liEis suffered violence by reason of the argu-
ments employed by the Catholics in the debates on the tithe
question. Had it been possible to have expressly prohibited
tnose members from taking any part in any discussion for the
reformation, or for the abolition, of tithes, the injustice of the
prohibition could not have been maintained against the feeling
of England. To have closed their lips upon a subject whicn
touches the main fund of their own interests in such a variety of
ways, directly and circuitously — which works such a complication
of injuries, troubles, and painful distresses, throughout the whole
of Ireland — to inhibit them from pleading for themselves, as well
as for the peace, and quiet, and order of their country, would
have been a monstrous stretch of power, not a whit short of the
most intolerable tyranny ; and yet had such a preposterous and
intolerable exclusion as this been actually and palpably embodied
in the oath, the charge oi perjury could not be more peremptorily
asserted, than it appears in the circulated edition of the Speech
which we are considering.

But is it not inconsistent with the oath taken by Catholic
members, to give their support to a scheme, by which the clergy
of Ireland are to be despoiled of their property, or at best re-
duced in their incomes ? A few members appeat to have thought
80, and, accordingly, have not voted. Others have thought the

1888. and the Catholic Oath. 498

contrary, and with reason. Of all the litter of tithe bills which
have been produced in the Commons for some years past, that
which was introduced by Sir Henry Hardinffe was one of the
most severe and trenchant to the incomes ot the Irish clerf^y.
Yet no j)erson accuses that gallant and meritorious person of
being a Papist, or of having perjured himself; for if a Catholic
be bound by his parliamentary test not to subvert the Protestant
establishment, &c., a Protestant also must be considered, in justice
and reason, as coming under the restrictive obligations which
the i^ishop of Exeter labours to confine to the Catholic.

I^ut after all, does a change in the tithe system of Ireland carry
with it a meaning equivalent to the robbing the Church of its
temporalities, and bereaving the clergy of their incomes ? Far
from it A Protestant State, and particularly the Protestant
State of the United Kingdom, will never suffer their Church
or clergj' to be rifled of any portion of what is necessary for
their dignity and independence. No man in his senses would
think of concocting such a scheme of support for the clergy of
the Establishment, as that which now exists, if it were an origi-
nal measure of the present period, that due and liberal provision
should be appointea for the first time. The parties opposed in
interest by the present system have been, and actually now are,
the landlords and the clergy. Ever since lands have risen in
their value, and increased population has rendered them the
staple of all the varied interests of Ireland, the question has been
bi'tween those parties — the landlords and the clergy, and the
lay-improprietors. 'Die resources of the legislature must be
miserable indeed, if, without doing the slightest injustice to the
clerg}', an ample compensation may not be afforded, more satis-
factorily paid, and more securely defended by law, than that is,
ui)on which so much ferocious declamation, and sophistical quib-
bling have been expended.

It is not at all contemplated to enter farther into the subject
of tithes, than they happen to be incidentally involved, and also
so far as the charge against the Catholic members of Parliament
may lead. Whatever measures affecting the Church have been
pursued in Parliament, were undertaken by the Ministers of
the day ; and against some of these, none were more deter-
minedly opposed than the Irish Catholic members of the House
of Commons. Lord Grey commenced his administration with a
distinct intimation of his mtentions respecting the Church. He
addressed himself, in pointed terms, directly to the Spiritual
Bench in the House of Lords, and he exhorted those who occu-
pied it "to set their houses in order." His Lordship entered
vigorously upon his scheme, and he abolished at a stroke ten

494 7%<? Bishop of Exeter, April*

of the Irish bishoprics. This was considered by some as a
direct attempt against the independence of the Establislied
Church ; for here were dignities and temporalities swept away,
and from which several derivative consequences were percep-
tible, each productive, as it was conceived, of a greater or
smaller degree of public injury. In all this proceeding, the Irish
Catholic members had no more to do, than had the Protestant
members of Parliament ; and as concerns the latter, it would be
difficult to discover their title to an exclusive right to inflict in-
jury upon their own Church and clergy. So far from those
measures being desired by the Roman Catholics of Ireland, Mr.
O'Connell, in his place in the House of Commons, declared, that
the Catholics did not care about them ; that it was of no benefit
to the people of Ireland that ten bishoprics were abolished ; that
they took no interest in the diminution of the number of bishops
or in the increase of it — for that either regulation was not what
they sought for : and he spoke what was undeniable, as every man
must know who has any true and useful knowledge of the state
of things in Ireland. This measure of the premier had the sup-
port of nine bishops — seven English and two Irish — viz. the
Bishops of Winchester, Chester, LlandafF, Rochester, Norwich,
St. David's, Oxford, Kildare and Derry. As regards Ireland,
this was the most summary demolition that the Irish Church had
ever suffered from a Protestant Ministry and a Protestant Par-
liament ; but the Catholic members of both houses were wholly
guiltless of the matter. Then followed the tithes — and then a
subject became debated in Parliament, which came home to
every being in Ireland who has landed property or landed inte-
rests, or who subsists by agricultural labourer produce, — and that
is, after some manner or other, or to some degree or other, every
head of a family throughout the entire kingdom. During tliose
discussions which followed in Parliament, and out of doors, strong
expressions were employed on all hands, according to the views
or the temperament of those who engaged in the question. The
Bishop of Exeter has treasured up some of these for re-exhibition ;
but they make nothing for his argument. Whatever powers Mr.
O'Connell may employ out of Parliament, he had a right to call
into use. He possessed those, whatever they were, at all times.
The Oath had nothing to do with his language, and as little with
his conduct, which, it it were blameable out of Parliament, was
referable to justice, — not to any futile quibbling regarding the
construction of as flimsy an oath as ever yet set men debating
about its meanings. Mr. Shiel triumphed at a public meeting
which was held in Tipperary, that they " had annihilated the
Tories ;" but even supposing this great achievement to be be-

18S8.] and the Catholic Oath. 495

yond ail doubt, one does not see what it has to do witli the oatii
which he had taken as a member of Parliament. The constku-
tion, except so far as it has been changed, not by the i)eriury of
the Irisli Catholics, but by the Protestant Ministry of Larl Grey,
is not yet forced from its foundations. *' The Church as by law
established" is not upset by the Irish Catholics — nor have they,
ns members of Parliament, attempted any thing of tlie kind ; but
if the Bishop of Exeter, instead of an intemperate railing, and a
stringing together of every thing which could be swept out of the
petitions, supplications, and remonstrances of the Irish Catholics
to the Parliament during a space of eighty years, would really
know how far the Church Establishment stands affected by times
and circumstances, he has nothing to do but to consult some of
his own political friends and patrons, to obtain a clue to guide
him in his inquiry. His Lordship has done his cause no service
by the temerity and injustice of his opinions and language.

We observe that Dr. Philpotts is bringing in aid the refusal of
tlie Bishop of Malta to take the Catholic Oath, and a supposed
opinion of our Holy Father the Pope in condemnation of it. We
rejoice to see that the question is assuming a form in which its
merits can be fully develoj>ed ; and we doubt not that our cham-
pions in the House of Lords will prove themselves worthy of their
res{K)nsible station, and will disdain Dr. Philjxjtts' offer of com-
promise of excepting them from his charge of perjury, with a view
of thereby more effectually }x)inting his attacks against their Irish
bretliren in the House of Commons. When the facts under con-
sideration sliall be ascertained, we hope to return to the subject*

AnT. X.— 1. Tales of Faahiouahle Ufe<t Sgc. By Maria Edge-
worth.

2. 77ifi Wild Irish Girl, By Miss Owenson.

S. O'Donnel; Florence Macarthy ; O' Br tens and & Flaherties :
and National Tales. By Lady Morgan.

4. Talcs by the CHara Family. Fii*st and Second Series. By

John Banim.

5. The Croppy.

6. TJie Collegiam.

7. Tales of the Munster Festivals.

8. Traits of the Irish Peasantry. By William Carleton.

9. Rory 0*More. By Samuel Lover.

THAT the present is essentially, and par excellenccy a novel-
writing and novel-reading age, is a fact, in asserting which,
we need fear no contradiction. The first talent of the day is

496 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

employed in the production, the whole reading world in the peru-
sal, of novels. The demand is great, and it is equalled by the
supply. Some fifty years back, the divine, the metaphysician,
and the historian, would have sent forth their lucubrations in for-
midable treatises in folio, or scarce less formidable essays and
histories in interminable quarto and octavo. The cacoethes scri-
bendi in these classes is as strong as ever ; but it has taken a
different direction, and following the taste of the day, has vented
itself in the composition of historical, metaphysical, and even of
theological novels. The domestic novels the only one in which
our ancestors excelled, has been by us perfected, purified, and
refined. The fashionable novel, a genus hard to be defined, and
scarce worth the trouble of a definition, has sprung into existence,
and has employed the pens of noble as well as of plebeian authors.
The latter, it is true, have far surpassed their lordly competitors,
yet the prestige of a noble name has not been without its effect
upon the many ; while, to the more thinking few, there is a grati-
fication, enhanced by its novelty, in seeing the magnates of the
land harmlessly, if not very usefully, employed, which disarms
the severity of their criticism, and renders them, in the words of
the old adage, " unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth."
The naval and military novel forms a class apart, and allowing
for some high-colouring and exaggeration, it is not the least
skilfully supported. There is one class, however — in our estima-
tion the most interesting and important of all — the national
novel — which, embodying, as it does, the characteristics of a
people, their manners, their feelings, their faults, and their
virtues, may be made the vehicle of conveying the most import-
ant truths, and of exciting a strong interest and sympathy in the
minds of those to whom the nation in question would otherwise
have been a name, and nothing more. Tlie national tales of
Scott have done much to remove the barrier of prejudice which
separated his countrymen from their fellow-subjects ; the spirit-
stirring novels of Cooper have had the same effect as regards
America. Our country — our unhappy Ireland — as she stands
more in need of extraneous sympathy, so should a double import-
ance be attached to those works which paint her as she is. It is
accordingly our intention to devote this article to a brief notice
of the novels of Ireland, including the works of those who, how-
ever differing from us in religious and political opinions, still
display in their writings that I6ve of country, that strong national
feeling, which, in our estimation at least, covereth a multitude of
sins !

In commencing our survey, the first name which naturally
presents itself is tnat of Miss Edgeworth. Not that her works

1888.] Irish Noveh and Irish Novelists. 497

can be called national, in the fullest sense of the word, nor that
we acknowledge her by any means to be what the Edinburgh
Review once called her, the " best painter of Irish character and
manners ;" but, as the pioneer in the trackless forests of Irish
romance, the foundress, so to speak, of a style which others have
carried much nearer perfection, — she claims this precedence. In
a clever article upon the genius and writings of Miss Edgeworth,
which appeared some time since in Tait's Magazine, and which
was ascribed to Miss Martineau, the following passages occur : —
** Neitlier her feelings, mind, nor imagination, are Irish. She is
a shrewd Englishwoman of enlarged understanding and rare
talent, who cleverly, but sometimes not very correctly, sketches
Irish characters and manners as any other well-informed person,
long resident in Ireland, might do; with many cool minute
touches, which would infallibly have escaped one whose heart and
imagination had warmed and expanded amongst the Irish people,
and who had grown up from childhood to womanhood nursed in
tlieir traditions, usages, habitudes, and feelings. There is little
about her that partakes of the raciness of the sod. Though her
heart and goocl wishes, and excellent understanding, may have
been in Ireland, her imagination and fancy are, so far as is seen
in her works, clearly absentees — they are essentially English."

Nothing can be truer than this, to a certain extent ; but on
one point we must differ with the fair critic. Though Miss
Edge worth's " excellent understanding" may have been in Ire-
land, we much doubt whether her heart has ever accompanied it.
In the Absentee, of all her works the one which displays the most
sympathy with Ireland, although she tells many useful truths, and
ably exposes the short-sighted selfishness of absenteeism, there is
still no warmth of indignant patriotism, no identification of self with
the country, little more, in snort, than the cold and half-contempt-
uous pity of a shrewd and right-minded stranger. When Miss
Edgeworth had attained the full maturity of her genius and her
fame, the Irish Catholic was still degraded by unjust laws — the
Irish Protestant more degraded by an unnatural ascendancy.
Did she lend her powerful aid to forward the good cause of the
oppressed ? — did she record her protest against the monopoly of
those whom the laws made oppressors ? Alas, no. Nor can there
be a stronger proof of her want of national feeling — of the slight
hold her country has always had upon her affections — than the
circumstance of^her writings being totally silent on a subject of
such overpowering interest to Ireland.

A critical exammation of the works of Miss Edgeworth would,
at this time of day, be as tedious as a twice-told tale. We shall,
therefore, confine ourselves to a few general remarks. Of Castle

498 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

Rnckrenti we believe the earliest of Miss Edgeworth's works, we
are not inclined to think very favourably. It jjrofesses to be a
picture of the manners of a past age and generation, of which we
know but little; but we have reason to believe that it is highly
overcharged in its details, and the characters are certainly crudely
and coarsely drawn, whilst the story, if " vrai" is any thing but
" vraisemblable," and its revolting unpleasantness is unredeemed
by any sparkles of wit and humour. This, indeed, is a common
fault with our author ; her description of the condition, manners
and customs of the Irish peasantry is generally faithful, but in
her hands their quick and racy humour degenerates into coarse
blundering, whilst the deep well-spring of feeling that gushes in
the Irish heart, is to her a fountain sealed. But if her Irish
peasants be, generally speaking, but vapid caricatures, we must
allow that she has been highly successful in drawing the charac-
ters of a higher class ; her King Corny and Sir Ulick O' Shane in
Ormond) are perhaps the most finished portraits she has ever
traced, and as the representatives of two widely different, but still
both genuinely Irish classes, can scarcely be surpassed.

We must now take leave of Miss Edgeworth, repeating our
lively regret that this distinguished writer should have forced us
to consiaer her as wanting in national feeling — a regret enhanced
by our conviction, that this want has lessened the value and use-
fulness of her writings, and will prove injurious to her fame with
posterity — and expressing our ardent wish — we dare not call it
hope — that she may, even at the eleventh hour, assume her fitting
place amongst those to whom their country ia the first and
dearest object.

Our attention is next directed to the works of Lady Morgan,
to whom the reproach of want of nationality, at least, does not
apply. Her novels are, indeed, thoroughly Irish in matter, in
character, in their dry humour, and cutting sarcasm; no less than
their vehemence and impetuosity of feeling. It should never be
forgotten that, although writing at a period when, if it was not
actually considered " treason to love Ireland," to defend her was
to incur suspicion, Lady Morgan never hesitated to express her
indignation at the wrongs of her country — that she continued to
expose its misgovernment, and to win sympathy for its sufferings,
and that she pursued this course regardless of the obloquy it en-
tailed upon her, and careless that she thus provoked the enmity
of those, high in station, whose good-will and powerful patronage
a different line of conduct would have speedily commanded.
Lady Morgan has powerfully advanced the cause of her country ;
she has been its " unbought and unpurchasable servant ;" and we,
therefore, in common with the Irish public, consider that the

1888.] Irish Novels and Irish Noi^lists. 499

present government, in bestowing upon hern pension, has clone
Itself high honour, and to her but a tardy act of justice. Would
that such names alone were to be found upon the Pension List,
and it would soon cease to be a bye-word and a stumbling block
to the j)eople !

The first of Lady Morgan's national tales (and it is with them
alone we have to do) was the Wild Irish Girl. It is evidently
the work of a young and inexperienced writer — the story, the
sentiments, and the characters, being alike extravagant and over-
wrought. Still there is a strong national feeling throughout — an
occasional graphic sketch of Irish character and custon)s, and a
tone of genuine enthusiasm which carries one along, and causes its
deficiencies to be forgotten. Besides, its faults, as springing from
an undisciplined and exuberant fancy, are those most easily par-
doned in youth, from the high promise they hold out for the
future ; and this promise the succeeding works of our author have
amply re<leemed. Between the Wild Irish Cirl and (/Donnel
there is all the difference that can be imagined to exist between
the first sketches of a young artist and the finished work of a great
master. We are sure that this admirable production must be still
fresh in the recollection of most of our readers. Who can forget
the inimitable M*Rory, that personification of the fidelity, the cou-
rage, the reckless gaiety, and shrewd mother-wit of the " mere
Irishman" f or the scarcely less admirably drawn character of the
pert and servile Mr. Dexter, the " English by descent,*' and the
type of a class once widely extended, and still too often to be met
with in Ireland, who "live by the country they revile"?

The character of O'Donnel, — the Irish gentleman of high
descent, the distinguished soldier, the sometime associate of
princes in other lands, reduced by the consequences of obsolete
statutes and the continued o{)eration of others, no less unjust, if
less strikingly barbarous, almost to a level with the peasant in his
own — is a master-piece. His high sense of honour — his pride,
which prefers the extreme of poverty to the incurring of obliga-
tion— his morbid sensitiveness, shrinking almost from the voice
of courtesy, lest it should convey a covert insult — his bitter sense
of the wrongs of his country, and of his own unjust and un-
merited degradation — all these distinguishing traits are drawn
with a force and verisimilitude that suggests the idea of I-^dy
Morgan having had some living original in view, and that she
sketched at least the leading characteristics of O'Donnel from
some one of the many noble and gallant Irishmen whom the first
French Revolution threw back upon their country, and whom she
is likely in her early youth to have known. The history of the
fallen fortunes of tlie house of O'Donnel, is told with great spirit

500 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

and fidelity, and embodies many a painful fact, but too often re-
peated in the past history of Ireland. We have indeed little
doubt that, placing as it did the iniquities of the penal and re-
strictive laws in a new and forcible light, this narrative contributed
not a little to disabuse the English mind of its prejudice, and to
predispose many for the long delayed act of justice wliich the
Catholics have at length obtained.

The lighter portions of this work are equally admirable with
the more serious. In the scenes where M'Kory figures, not
merely the idiom, but the modes of thought and expression pecu-
liar to the Irish peasantry, are faithfully preserved, and their rich
humour, ceremonious politeness, and natural tact, given to the
life. Lady Singleton is a capital specimen of the bustling,
officious, and self-important personage, who, though universally
considered a bore of the first magnitude, yet so often deludes the
world into calling her *' an uncommonly clever woman ;" whilst
Lady Llanberis, the spoiled child of fortune, the capricious
and inconsistent women of fashion, led by the whim of the
moment, and the willing slave of whoever gratifies her passion
for excitement and variety, forms an admirable contrast to her
more bustling friend.

The character of the Duchess of Belmont, although evidently
a favourite with the author, and worked up with much care and
pains, we cannot help considering a failure. The change is too
violent from the bete and beckyish Miss O'Halloran, the butt
alike of her patroness and her pupils, to the self-possessed and
satirical Duchess, braving unmoved the repelling coldness of the
haughty family she had entered, and the envious sneers of their
little world of flatterers and dependents. There is also something
repugnant to all our ideas of feminine dignity and delicacy, in her
accepting the hand of the old and profligate Duke of Belmont,
which had only been tendered to her upon the rejection of less
honourable offers. Throughout her subsequent conduct the
same want of delicacy is perceptible ; so that, notwithstanding her
brilliant wit and many good qualities, we can only account for
the ardent attachment with which she inspires the high-minded
and sensitive O'Donnel, by adopting the doctrine, that a total
contrast in mind, character, and disposition, is the most likely to
create a violent passion.

Much as we admire (yDomiel, however, we must still confess
a lurking preference for Florence Macarthy — perhaps from the
many pleasing associations belonging to the latter. The very
name brings back the happy home of our youth — the cheerful
fireside around which we welcomed the arrival of the long
desired volumes, scarce dry from the press — while the night flew

1888.] Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. BOX

swiftly by as we listened to the beloved parent who read them
aloud, with the keenest relish and most lively interest. Even
now we cannot peruse a page of Florence Macarthy without
in fancy hearing that full-toned and mellow voice give new
j)oint to the sarcasm — new energy to the indignant burst
of national feeling. But Florence Macarthy, ajmrt from these
associations, may well vie with (/Donnel upon its own merits.
The story is mteresting and well managed — the incidents
varied and highly dramatic, — the characters well drawn and
well supported. The strong-minded, high-principled General
Fitz- Walter, taught in the stern school of adversity, contrasts
finely with the imaginative and honourable, though somewhat
spoiled and selfish. Lord Adelm. The devoted and enthusiastic
O'Leary, whose feelings draw him towards the Norman Fitz-
Adelms, whilst all his pride of learning, birth, and clanship,
incline him to the Milesian Macarthies, is also admirable. Owny
the Rabragh, Padreen Gar, and the two Judges, are spirited
sketches; but the Crawley family is the gem of the work —
whether it be viewed as a series of admirable portraits, or as a most
faithful representation of a class in Ireland, who long assumed to
themselves the claim to exclusive loyalty, and to the loaves and
fishes, which formed its appropriate reward — a class who not only
were ready to sell their country, but, as one of its members frankly
confessed, were " heartily glad they had a country to sell !" The
acute and humorous, but vulgar and low-bre<l. Darby Crawley ;
his saintly and sentimental sister ; his stupid and servile brothers ;
his squireen elder sons ; and his pert and presumptuous younger
hope, the darling of his aunt, and "janius," half feared, half
admired of his father; all these varying in character and dispo-
sition, but each alike governed by the same sordid motives, —
alternately excite our laughter and disgust. The other characters
demand little notice. Lady Dunore, though amusing, is a mere
ri/acciamento of the Lady Llanberis of WDonnel — the same may
be said of Lady Clancare with reference to the Duchess of Belmont
— while the lords and ladies, dandies, and boarding-school misses,
who fill up the rest of the canvass, are too insignificant to excite
more than a passing smile.

Of the O'liriens and the O' Flaherties^ which succeeded
Florence Macarthy, (though at an interval of several years) we
cannot speak so favourably. Although written with much
power, and ixwsessing scenes of exquisite humour, it is, as a
whole, decicledly inferior to its predecessors. The story is
extravagant — the incidents ill-conceived, ill put together, and
improbable — the characters roughly drawn and unfinished, and
what is far worse, the moral is defective. The O'Briens ami
(J Flaherties is the first of Lady Morgan's national tales, in

502 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

which she obtrudes those extraordinary and undigested notions
of intolerant philosophy, which, without thoroughly understand-
ing, she seems to have adopted in compliment to certain cliques
(to use her own pet phrase) in Paris; certain worthies who
would serve man by depriving him of all tliat elevates the mind,
all that purifies the heart, — who consider love of country a weak-
ness, and reverence for religion all but a crime. In conformity
with these principles Lady Morgan has drawn her hero an
enthusiast for virtue and liberty, but totally devoid of religious
principle ; he is brought through a variety of strange and incon-
sistent adventures ; unnecessarily stained with crime which has
not even the poor plea of passion for its excuse ; condemned to
death as a traitor ; escaping we scarce know how, and finally
presented to us as a general in the French service, sufficiently
distinguished to attract the suspicion and almost the jealousy of
the First Consul. The heroine, to whom he is united at the
close, and who has been in the early part of the work inexplicably
attached to his footsteps, (rivalling the ^^ ubiquitous qualities" of
Sir Boyle Roadie's bird) is represented as a miracle of beauty,
genius and virtue, and is at once an accomplished hypocrite, an
esprit forty and a perjured nun ! With such dramatis personss,
and the corrupt court of the Duke of Rutland as the principal
scene, it is not wonderful that the O'Briens and O' Flaherties
should contain much that is offensive both in dialogue and detail.
Thereare, however, many redeemingpassages, where our authoress,
forgetting awhile her repulsive creed, is once more herself —
ardent, enthusiastic, and Irish. Such, for instance, is the spirit-
stirring Review of the Irish Volunteers in the Park — such the
{)rivate meeting of the United Irishmen. She has also happily
ashed the follies and vices of the vice-regal court of the day ;
while some of her broadest humour (perhaps sometimes border-
ing upon caricature), is displayed in the characters of O' Mealy
and of the Miss Mac Taafs, with the scenes in which they figure.
Of these the " Jug Day" is incomparably the best, and presents
a most attractive, tliough somewhat homely picture, of Connaught
hospitality in the good old times.

We cannot consider our notice of the national works of Lady
Morgan complete, without bestowing a few words upon the frag-
ment entitled Manor Sackville, whicn forms the first of what she
has chosen to call Dramatic Sketches. It possesses a great deal
of her peculiar power, has much truth, and much good feeling,
alloyed with some angry prejudice. Tiiere are some scenes
inimitable for their racy humour, and the characters of Gallagher
the orange-agent, his ally the housekeeper, and Fatlier Phil, are
worthy the hand that sketched M'Rory and the Crawley family;

1888.] Irish Novel* and Irish Novelists. 8M

but Lady Emily and her friends arc too childishly frivolous,
Mr. Sacicville tiresome to a degree, and the Whiteboy scenes,
though forcibly drawn, are perhaps too melodramatic ; and there
is certainly a gross anachronism in placing them subsequent to
the {Missing ot the Catholic Uclief Bill. This is not, however,
the only misrepresentation of which we have to complain ; and
we cannot help expressing our regret, that Lady Morgan should,
throughout this stoiT> have lent herself to the then fashionable
outcry against the Repealers — against men who, supposing them
to have been mistaken, were yet only carrying into action prin-
ciples and opinions of which she had long been the advocate.
We feel, we say, naturally indignant that she should have
maligned them as the inciters to outrages, which she must have
been well aware it was their interest^ as well as their constant and
successful endeavour, to prevent.

We trust that Lady Morgan will believe that these remarks
are made in no spirit of bitterness — nothing but a regard for
truth could have drawn them from us ; ana acknowledging as
we do that she had many a great example to plead in her justi-
fication during the short madness of those days of declarations,
we gladly extend to her the olive branch — and recollecting with
a glow of gratitude her many services, willingly bury this solitary
back-sliding in eternal oblivion ! •

For a considerable period the field of Irish literature of which
we treat, remained in undisputed possession of the two dis-
tinguished women whose works we have just glanced over. At
length a competitor arose in the person of John Banim, a name
now familiar to the British public, but which, in 185?5, when he
{)ublished the first series of Tales by the O'Hara Family, was
scarcely known beyond the precincts of Dublin, and there only
as that of a young and promising dramatic writer. No note of
preparation was sounded — no skilful puff heralded the O'Hara
Tales to public notice ; but their own intrinsic merit speedily
obtained for them a popularity which the succeeding works of
their author have deservedly retained. Without possessing the
i)olihlied correctness of Miss Edeeworth, or the epigrammatic
brilliancy of Lady Morgan, Mr. Banim surpasses both in vigour
of conception, in depth and energy of feeling, and in the power
of working up incidents to a pitch of intense and overwhelming
interest. There is a truth and verisimilitude in his occasional
sketclies of the interior of a lowly Irish family, the fire-side of a
snug farmer or industrious "cottier," not easily to be met with,
and which proves him one that has mingled much and familiarly
with the class he describes. He shows, indeed, on all occasions,
that he considers himself of the people, and that he feeb with

504 Irish NoveU and Irish Novelists. [April,

and /or them. His love of country breaks forth in almost every
page of his writings. He has vehement indignation for her
wrongs, deep sympathy with her sufferings, nor does he shrink
from entering into what are sometimes painful and revolting
details, when it is necessary to expose the ill-doings of her
oppressors.

To balance his many striking perfections, our author is not
without some glaring defects. He elaborates a subject too
much, and occasionally destroys the effect of a striking passage
or a fine situation, by overworking the details. But his chief
defect is the want of humour. Of this, in our opinion, he does
not possess one particle ; and yet, by some unhappy perversion of
judgment, comic scenes and comic characters hold a most pro-
minent place in all his tales ; although the latter are, without
exception, bores of the first magnitude, and the former excite no
feeling but that of utter weariness. In his hands the wit and
humour of the Irish peasant evaporate, and are replaced by low
buffoonery, couched in a jargon meant for the Irish dialect, but
more resembling the slang heard in the suburbs of a great city,
or the purlieus of a provincial town, than the genuine language
of the unsophisticated peasantry.

Gladly turning fi'om the unpleasant task of censure, we shall
proceed to a closer examination of the first series of the O^Hara
Tales, consisting of three stories, " Crohoore of tlie Billhook"
" The Fetches" and " John Doe." Of these, the first is the
most perfect; the story is artfully constructed, the characters
well drawn, the incidents highly exciting, and the interest
admirably sustained throughout, to the clenoueme?ii, which is well
brought about, and worthy of what comes before. We shall
give a few extracts, and first one of those home scenes in which,
as we have already stated, Mr. Banim is peculiarly happy, and
which also skilfully introduces some of the principal characters,
while " coming events cast their shadows before." We should
be tempted to extract, in the first place, the chapter which
commences the volume, as forming a fine contrast to the scene
of great enjoyment in question, but being pressed for space, we
must choose between them, and have made the best selection we
could under the circumstances.

" It was Christmas Eve, in the year 17 — , that Anthony Dooling
and his family were seated round the kitchen fire. He was a sub-
stantial farmer, renting a large and fertile tract of land ; one of the
good old times, who, except his broad-brimmed felt hat, his buckled
shoes for Sunday and market-days, and his brogues for tramping round
the farm, wore everything of his own manufacture. , Little money
went out, either for what Tony ate or drank ; he killed his cow at

1888.] Irixh Novell and Irish SoielUtK. 605

Christmas and Easter, he bred his own mutton, his bacon, his fowls;
he bakeil his own bread, l)rewpd his own ale, and altogether was vain
of applying to himself the old song, ' I rear my own lamb, my own
chickens and ham, and I shear my own sheep, and I wear it.'
Plenty was in his house ; he had a ready hand to relieve the poor ; and
the stranger never turned from his hearth without amply experiencing
its hospitality. Yet with all these perfections, Anthony had his dark
side. He was of a violent temper, and would fall into paroxysms of
passion with his workmen, and sometimes ill-treat them, for the purpose,
it almost seemed, of making it up with them when he became cool, and
all was over.

" A turf fire blazed in the large open chimney, of which the red
light glittered among the bright pewter plates and dishes and the
burnished copper vessels that decked the opposite dresser, and showed
the vast store of bacon hanging within and without the chimney, at
the same lime that it lit up the figures and countenances of as merry a
group as ever blessed the comforts of a warm fire after a day's labour.

" At one side of the fire, and within the wide canopy of the chimney,
in his stationary two-armed chair, one leg crossed above the other, his
short pipe rested on his projected under-lip, which he frequently with-
drew in a hurry, to partake of the merry laugh that was passing him,
there, and so, sat the master of the house, Anthony Dooling. Opposite
to him was the vanithee, an orderly, innocent, and even-tempered
dame, her character in her face — mild, peaceable, and happy — as, in a
low tone, she chaunted the ancient ditty of Collvch a thusa, which the
busy hum of the spinning-wheel confined within the circumference of
her own immediate atmosphere. At one side stood a long deal table,
off which master and workmen, mistress and maids, ate their meals,
except when a guest of distinction was entertained in the boarded and
well-furnished parlour at the back of the kitchen ; and in front, apper-
taining to the table, was a fonn, occupied at their ease by five or six
workmen, who enjoyed the full lustre of the merry blaze, and the

familiar and venerable jokes of their kind-hearted master The

handsome daughter of the old cou{)le had not yet taken her accustomed
seat by her mother's side ; she was employed, or seemingly employed,
in some trivial house concerns : but conscious expectation appeared in
the glance of her eye towards the door, and she frequently paused and
started a little, as she tripped across the floor, and bent her head, as if
attentively listening. By and bye, the latch was lifted, and the cordial
smile she gave the new comer, who entered with the usual salutation
of ' God save all here,' showed he was no unwelcome visitor ; and
another smile of a different ciiaracter, with which she answered his
whisper as he passed, told that they pretty well understood each other.
In fact it was Pierce Shea who came in, the son of a neighbouring

fanner, and the young girl's betrothed admirer When to his

general salutation, • Got! save all here,' Pierce had received the usual
answer, ' God save you kindly,' and that he had particularly saluted
the vanithte and the man of the house, be then stood leaning on the

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. 2 L

506 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

back of the old woman's chair, as it occured to him that although
Alley might be shy of coming to sit next him, if he took his place
first, he would feel no such squeamishness when she should be seated.
And, 'well a-vanithee, how goes on everything with you?' he said,
addressing Cauth Dooling. * Why, in troth, Pierce a-roon, and praise
be to God for it, there's nothing wrong or astray ; if it wasn't for that
thief of a fox that come last night, an' out of ten as fine geese as ever
you laid an eye on — * But here the simple old woman stopt short, as
she discovered that Pierce had left her in the middle of her tale of
grievance, and taken his place by his comely mistress, who, with a
complicated knitting apparatus in hand, was now seated. The mother
smiled knowingly, and shook her head.

" ' Oh, then, musha, it's little he cares about myself or my geese,'
she whispered, again taking up her old ditty, and plying her wheel with
increased industry, and the young couple entertained each other with-
out farther interruption. In a little time a respectful though resolute
hand raised Ihe latch, and Andrew Muldowney, the district piper, made
his appearance. The insinuating servility of this man's voice, and the
broad sycophancy of his grin, as he gave his salutation, ' Go dthogah
diugh uhcig shey an agus sunus duiv,' ' God send luck, and a plentiful
Christmas to all here,' bespoke his partly mendicant profession, and
plainly told, at the same time, his determination to make himself
agreeable and delightful, in lieu of the shelter and good cheer, of
which he made no question. . . . The music inspired a general pas-
sion for dancing, and the young light hearts did not demur, nor the old
ones disapprove ; so Pierce led out his Alley, and Paudge Dermody did
his best bow to Chevaun Darlduck, by whom he was blushingly
accepted, and the dance went on. Old Anthony relished the sport,
furnishing himself with a foaming can of his best home-brewed ale,
with which he plied the piper, the dancers, and, including the vanithee
and himself, the lookers-on ; and the night wore apace in mirth and
joviality. There was but one person present, the quick and resolute
glance of whose red eye, as it shot from one to another of the dancers,
showed no sympathy with the happy scene. This was a young man,
in the prime of life, as to years, but with little else of the charm of
youth about him. An exuberance of bristling fiery-red hair stared
around a head of unusual size : his knobby forehead projected much,
and terminated in strongly marked sinuses, with brows of bushy
thickness, the colour of his hair ; his eyes fell far into their sockets,
and his cheek-bones pushed out proportionably with his forehead, so
that his eyes glared as from a recess ; his cheeks were pale, hollow,
and retiring; his nose, of the old Milesian mould — long, broad-
backed, and hooked ; his jaws came unusually forward, which caused
his teeth to start out from his face; and his lips, that without effort
never closed on those disagreeable teeth, were large, fleshy, and blood-
less— the upper one wearing, in common with the chin, a red
beard, just changed from the down of youth to the bristliness of
manhood, and as yet unshaven. These features, all large to dispropor-
tion, conveyed, along with the unpleasantness deformity inspires, the

1888.] Irixh Novels and Irish NoreluU. 507

expression of a bold and decided character ; and something else besides,
which was malignity or myster)', according to the observation or mood
of a curious observer. . . . Having said this young person uas very short
in stature, it should be added that he was not at all deformed. Across
his shoulders and breast, indeed, was a breadth that told more for
strength than proportion, and his arms were long and of Herculean sinew ;
but the lower part of the figure, hips, thighs, and legs, bespoke vigour
and elasticity, rather than clumsiness; and it was known that, strange-look-
ing as the creature might be, he could run, leap, or wrestle with a swift-
ness and dexterity seldom matched amongst men of more perfect shape
and more promising appearance. He took no share in the diversions of
the evening, but seated, far back on the hob, so far that the blaze of the
fire shone between him and the others, and gave occasion to Paudge
Dermody to remark that ' he looked like the ould buchal himself, in
the middle of his own place ;' he seemed busily employed in whetting a
rusty bill-hook, while from under the shade of an old broad-leafed hat
. . . the fiery eyes glanced around, and were clandestinely and sternly
fixed now on one — now on another — with a dangerous or hidden meaning:
. . . ' What are you grinding that for ?' asked Anthony Dooling, in an
angry tone of Crohoore, the name of the person we have just described ;
but a surly look was the only answer.

" ' Did you hear me spakin' to you a vehoon graunn (ugly wretch) ?*
Anthony went on ; and subdued resentment at the disgraceful and
stinging term applied to him, knitted Crohoore 's brow as he slowly
raised his head to answer. ' What am I grindin' it for ? I know now
that it's myself you mane,' the man replied ' I thought afore, you were
discoorsin' the piper.'

" * You didn't,' retorted Anthony, springing up in wrath at the buck
tone of his insignificant cow-boy, * no you thought no such thing, d rich
na ttreepeen (son of a jade)'. Another savage look was given in exchange
for this opprobrious epithet.

*' ' None o' your dog's looks !' continued Tony, replying to it, * take
yourself to bed out o' that, since your black heart won't let you share in
the innocent diversion.' The vanilhee here interfered in a mild beseech-
ing tone, and said to her husband, ' Never mind him Tony, d roon ; he's
doin' no harm, poor cratur.'

** ' No harm, woman I auch, bad end to me, but his black looks 'ud
turn the may-day into winther — go to your bed I say !' roared Tony.

" Crohoore rose from the hob to go ; he slowly laid the bill-hook
where he had been sitting; his biows were knit closer than ever, his
teeth clenched, and his eyes rolling.

"'And, do you hear me, bull-head I' the angry master continued,
'don't let it be wid you as it was this morning; have the cows in the
bawn at the first light, or I'll break every bone in your lazy skin." The
dwarf, as he may be called, was passing his harsh master while these
words ended, and he fixed the full meaning of his look on Anthony, and
said, ' That same 'ud be nothing new, for tryin' at laste ; it's an ould
trick you have'

2l2

608 Irisfi Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

" ' What's that you say, there, you shingawn (dwarf) you ?' questioned
Tony, his passion raised to the utmost at the thought of a saucy answer
from a creature so contemptible.

" ' An' it's well you know I am a shingaton, or you wouldn't be
so ready with your bone breaking,' still retorted Crohoore. This
was past bearing. 'Take that for a pattern 1' cried Anthony, the
moment the speech was uttered, raising his clenched and ponderous
hand, and dealing the miserable offender a violent blow with the whole
force of his arm. Crohoore spun round and fell ; his head as he went
down, striking against a chair, so smartly as to draw the blood in some
profusion. The piper stopped suddenly, and the dance ceased ; and
Pierce Shea was the first to raise and support the senseless Crohoore,
while Alley, trembling and weeping, gave him a handkerchief to bind
the wretch's temples, and staunch the welling blood. Cauth Dooling,
with eyes of pity, looked at her husband, fully comprehending his
feelings, as he stood the picture of shame, sorrow, and repentance.
Indeed, the blow had scarcely been given, when, from the bottom of
his heart, he blamed and hated himself for it; anrl in his present mood
lie would have offerred half his little wealth in atonement.

" Crohoore, suddenly recovering, sprung on his legs, and freed himself
from his supporter, with a force that made him reel, and a manner that
seemed to scorn all obligation ; his face was horribly pale, covered with
blood, and every hideous feature rigid in checked passion. Without
opening his lips, he dropped his head upon his breast, and trj-ing to
walk, but staggering, crossed the apartment to an opposite door, that
opened into a passage, through which he should go to the loft where he
slept. While the whole group looked on with wonder and alarm,
Anthony called after him, and, in a crying voice, said, can in hand,
* Crohoore, a rich ma chree, come back, an' make it up ; drink
to me, an' be friends.' But there was no reply to this pacific and
penitent overture ; Crohoore only turned round his ghastly face on his
master, as he held the door in his hand, gave him one parting look, and
then banged the door after him. That look was afterwards well
remembered, and often commented upon.

" Anthony set himself down without speaking. He felt a return of
dudgeon at the manner in which his advances hail been received, and
this, in some measure, served to reconcile his conscience to the cruelty
he had been guilty of. But a general damp fell over the whole party,
and its effects soon became visible ; the workmen silently, or in whispers,
withdrew to an outhouse, where they slept, and the now superfluous
piper as silently plodded after them. Pierce Shea took his leave, but
not without his parting kiss from Alley, and the renewal of an under-
standing with her and the old people to call for them next morning, at
a very early hour, when all were to set off" to the chapel, for the six
o'clock mass ; it being the practice throughout Ireland, whenever it can
possibly be done, to assemble at devotion before day-break on the
Christmas mo ning." — Vol. i. pp. 5-7, 9-H, 15-25.

18S8.] Iriith SotvU and Iruh Novelists. 509

We shall only give one more extract from this tale. It is the
speech of an unfortunate Irish peasant, ground to the earth by
exactions, at a meeting of VVhiteooys, in reply to the well-meant
remonstrances of Pierce Shea, as to tlic little good their resistance
to the laws could do. It embodies, we think, in a few words a
very sufficient explanation of the feelings which have so often
impelled the Irish peasant to desperate and useless outrages.

" His (Pierce's) attention was here ri vetted by the miserable man op-
posite to him, who, at once, with that violence of action and furious
contortion of countenance, for which the Irish peasant is remarkable,
poured out a speech in his native tongue, adopting it instinctively as the
most ready and jMjwerfuI medium of expressing his feelings ; for one
who bogglt^ and stammers, and is ridiculous in English, becomes
eloquent in Irish. . . . ' Who talks of the gaodwc can do ? — Me look not
to do good — we are not able nor fit to do good — we only want our
revenge ! — And that, while we are men, and have strong hands, and
broken hearts, and brains on fire with the memory of our sufferings —
that we can take. Your father, young man, never writhed in the
proctor's gripe ; he has riches, and they bring peace and plenty, so that
the robber's visit was not heeded, — but look at me !' With the fingers
of one hand he pressed violently his sallow and withered cheek, and
with the other tore open the scanty vesture, that leaving him uncovered
from the shoulders to the ribs, exhibited a gaunt skeleton of the human
form. ' I have nothing to eat, no house to sleep in ; my starved botly
is without covering, and those I loved and that loved me, the pulses of
my heart, are gone ; — how gone and how am I as you see me ? Twelve
months ago I had a home, and covering, and food, and the young wife,
the mother of my children, with me at our fire-side; but the plunderer
came on a sudden; I was in his debt; he has a public-house, and he
saw me sitting in another in the village ; he took my cow, and he took
my horse; he took them to himself; I saw them — and may ill luck
attend his ill got riches I — I saw them grazing on his own lands ; I was
mad; everj' thing went wrong with me; my landlord came, and swept
the walls and the floor of my cabin ; my wife died in her labour— who
was to stand up for me ? where had I a friend, or a great man to help
me ? — No one ; — no where; there is no friend, no help, no mercy, no
law, for the poor Irishman;— he may be robbed — stripped — insulted —
set mad — but he has no earthly friend but himself.' "

" The wretch sprung from bis seat — seized a drinking vessel— and
with the look and manner of a maniac indeed, added, ' And here let
every man pledge me I May hit heart wither, and his children and
name perish ! May the grass grow on his hearth-stone, and no kin
follow his corpse to the grave, who will refuse to wreck on the hard-
hearted proctors the revenge they provoke by the sorrows they inflict 1'"
—vol. i. pp. 197-99.

Of TTie Fetches, the second tale in this series, we shall only
say, that it is in many parts powerfully written, and excites a

510 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

degree of interest in the perusal, of which, considering the fan-
tastic nature of the story, the sober reader is afterwards inclined
to be ashamed. As it is emphatically with the National Tales oi
Ireland we have to do, and TJie Fetches can scarcely be ranked
amongst them, — as, although founded on a popular Irish supersti-
tion, it is quite as much like a German legend as it is to any
thing else, we shall pass on to the third and last tale, John
Doe^ which demands a more extended notice. In the manage-
ment of the story, the working up of the incidents, and the
delineation of character, it is certainly equal to Crohoore na
Vilhoge ; whilst, in one respect, the almost total absence of the
buffoonery which disfigures the latter, it has a decided supe-
riority. The character of O'Clery, by which name the celebrated
Father Arthur O'Leary is designated, is admirably drawn, and
kept up with great spirit throughout, and the fidelity of the por-
trait has been acknowledged by the few cotemporaries of the
great original who still remain. As it is highly characteristic, we
shall here extract the passage in which O'Clery is first introduced,
and is mistaken by a pragmatical, prejudiced English officer and
his orderly for the formiaable John Doe.

" The appearance, almost immediately, of a man from the bosheen,
was not calculated, all circumstances of time, place, and prepossession,
considered, to allay the fears of our travellers. He was well mounted
on a strong, active, though not handsome horse ; his figure seemed over
large, enveloped from the chin to the boot-heels in a dark top- coat ; on
his head appeared a white mass of something, which the imperfect light
did not allow Graham to discriminate or assign to any known class of
head-gear; and upon this again was placed a hat, with a remarkably
broad brim, and a low, round crown. As he emerged on the main
road, this apparition still continued his voluminous chaunt, and was only
interrupted by the challenge * Who goes there ? — stand I' of Graham,
and its instant echo by the mechanical old soldier. ' Stand yourself
then,' answered the stranger, in an easy, unembarrassed, but by no
means hostile, tone ; and continuing, rather jocosely, he repeated an old
Bchool-boy rhyme, —

' If you're a man, stand ;

If you're a woman, go ;

If you 're an evil spirit, sink down low.'

" * Did you say, fire, sir?* asked Evans, in an aside to Graham, and
leveUing his piece.

" * No I' said Graham, aloud ; * hold ! — and you, sir, I ask again, who
or what are you ? friend or foe ?'

" * A friend to all honest men, and a foe, when I can help myself, to
no man at all,' was the answer.

" ' That's no answer,' whispered Evans.

" ' You speak in untimely and silly riddles, sir,' said Qraham ; * ad-
vance and declare yourself.'

1888.] Iriuh Novelt and Irish Novelists. 51 1

" * Begging your pardon,' continued the stranger, still in a good-
humoured tone, ' 1 see no prudent reason why I should advance at the
invitation of two persons armed and unknown to roe.'

" • We are tlie Icing's soldiers,* said Evans, rather precipitately.

" ' Silence, man,' interrupted Graham. ' I am an officer in the king's
service, sir, and my attendant is a soldier.'

" ♦ O ho !' quoth the stranger, ' an officer, but no soldier.'

'* ' What, sir I' exclaimed Graham, raising his pistol, while Evans had
recourse to his musket.

" ' Hold I and for shame, gentlemen !' cried the other, seriojisly al-
tering his tone. ' What ! on a defenceless and peaceable poor man,
who has given you no provocation ? Upon my life, now, but tiiis is
unceremonious treatment, just at the end of one of my own bosheens.
In the king's name, forbear; if, indeed, ye are the king's soldiers, as
you say, though I can discover no outward badges of it;' for Graham
rode in a plain dress, and Evans had disguised, under a great coat, all
appearance of uniform, a foraging-cap alone intimating, to an experi-
enced eye, his military character.

" • I pledge my honour to the fact,' said Graham, in answer to the
stranger's last ol>servation.

• • • « • •

" ' Recover arms I' cried Graham, ' and fall back, Evans, and keep
yourself quiet.'

" ' God bless you, sir, and do manage him now,' continued the
stranger, as Evans obeyed orders. ' I will hold out my arms, I say, as
they are at present, and we'll lave the rest to my horse. Come, Pod-
hereen, right about face, and march.'

" The obedient animal moved accordingly, and a few paces brought
his master and Graham face to face. * And now, sir,' continued tliia
person, ' I suppose you are satisfied, and I may just lift the haste's rein,
as before.'

" To this Graham assented, rather because he saw no reasonable
ground for refusal, than because he was perfectly satisfied ; while Evans,
from behind, whispered, ' Search him first, your honour ; 'tis Doe, I'll
take my oath of it, in one of his disguises; look at him.'

" Graham did look, and, in truth, if his moral certainty was not so
strong as Evans's, he still had misgivings, in common with the crafty
old campaigner. The white protuberance on the stranger's head he
coulcl now ascertain to be some species of wig, bloated out over his ears
and the back of his neck, to an immoderate compass, and lying close to
his forehead and the side of his face in a rigid, unbroken line, while it
peaked down in the middle of the forehead, much like, in this respect,
the professional head disguise of the gentlemen of the long robe. The
broad-leafed, round-topped thing on the pinnacle of this, still seemed
to be a hat, and the dark loose eoat hid all detail of the figure. By his
face, the stranger was between forty and fifty, exactly Doe's age ; and
his heavy, depressed eye-brows, broad-backed nose, well-defined and
expressive mouth, together with the self-assured twinkle of his eyes,
that gleamed on Graham like illuminated jets, and a certain mixed

512 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

character of severity and humour that ran through his whole visage, in-
dicated a person of no ordinary cast, at least.

• * ■N' « • •

" The object of his admiration again broke silence. * And I sup-
pose I may go my road, too, without any farther question, captain ?*

" 'May I ask which road you travel, sir?' asked Graham, with an
obvious meaning.

" ' Hoot, toot, now,' said the other, ' that's too Irish a way of an-
swering a gentleman's question on the king's high-way. Danger has
often come of such odd answers. You see I am unarmed, and I see
that you have the power, that is, if you liked it, to strip me of my old
wig and hat in a moment, and no friend of mine the wiser. In fact,
sir, you now give me sufficient cause to look after ray own personal
safety. I have no wish to offend any gentleman ; but you must excuse
me for saying I cannot be quite sure who or what you are : you may
be Captain .John Doe as well as any other captain, for aught I know.*

" This was said with much gravity ; and Graham hastened, in some
simplicity, to make the most solemn and earnest declarations of his
loyalty, and professional character and services.

" ' Well sir,' continued the stranger, who had now turned the tables,
and become catechist accordingly, ' all this may be very true, and from
your appearance and manners I am inclined to think the best of you ;
but if you are not he how can I be so sure of that suspicious-looking
person at your back ?'

" Evans, shocked to the bottom of his soul, as well as displeased, that
under any circumstances, he could be confounded ^vith a traitor, rebel
and desperado, shouted out at this observation, and was with some dif-
ficulty restrained by Graham from taking instant vengeance for the
insult. When he was restored to order, Graham assured the stranger,
with emphasis equal to what he had used on his own account, of Evans's
real character."— pp. 72-79.

After some farther conversation, and some ludicrous incidents,
the stranger and Graham travel on in company : —

" The day was now fully up, and the thick vapour that had slept out
the night on the bosom of Slievenamon, whitened in the returning light,
and lazily obeying the summons of the breeze, began to crawl towards
the peak of the mountain, and there once more deposit itself, as if to
take another slothful nap. Graham remarked on the picturesque effect :
and his companion replied, ' Yes, it is odd enough that ould Slievena-
mon should put on his night-cap just as all the rest of the world was
throwing off that appendage.'

" Graham, too proper and systematic in the arrangement of his ideas
to like this trope, did not notice it, but proceeded, with a little vanity
of his travelled lore, to allude to the superiority of Italian, over our
island scenery.

" ' Superiority is a general word,' said the traveller, ' in the way
you use it. I presume you do not mean mere height, as applied to
such mountain scenery as surrounds us ; in other respects, the Italian

1888.] I ruth Noieli and Irish NovelisU. 518

landscape, principally owing uf course to the influence of atmosphere,
is more beautiful than the English one, and from the scarcity of trees
in Ireland, much more so than the Irish one ; but among the mist and
shadow of our island hills, as you call them, particularly in Kerry, I
have always felt a fuller sense of the sublime, at least, than I ever did
in the presence of continental scener)', either in Italy or in Spain ;
Switzerland, alone, to my eye, first equals us, and then surpasses us.'

" This speech gave intimation of rather more acquaintance with the
distinctions, in a knowledge of which Graham took it for granted he
might shine, than it seemed practicable to turn to advantage, so he
avoided the general subject ; and taking up only a minor division of it,
protested he could not understand why, unless it was attributable to
the indolence of its people, Ireland should be so ' shamefully deficient
in trees ! ' ' Indeed I ' his companion replied in an indefinite tone ;
then after a pause, added, that ' he thought so too ;' but Graham did
not notice— it was not intended he should — the scrutinizing, and,
afterwards, rather contemptuous look, and, finally, the severe waggery
of face, that filled up the seeming hintus. So having to his own mind
hit on a fruitful theme, Graham diverged into all the ramifications of
Irish indolence; obstinacy was his next word; Irish indolence and
obstinacy ; they would neither do, nor learn how to do anything, be
said ; they would not even submit to be educated out of the very
ignorance and bad spirit that produced all this W'hiteboyism. There
was a national establishment, he was well assured, in Dublin, with
ample means, that proposed the blessings of education on the most
liberal plan ; yet the very ministers of the religion of the country would
not suffer their ragged and benighted flock to take advantage of so
dt^irable an opportunity ; the bigotted rustic pastors actually forbade
all parents to send their children to the schools of this institution.

" ' Yes,' the stranger said, ' the parish priests, the bigotted })arish
priests; and all because a certain course of reading was prescribed in
these schools.'

** • Precisely, sir,' said Graham.

" * The bigotry of the priests is intolerable,' said the stranger,
' nothing can bring them to consent to the proposed terms, because,
forsooth, they plead a conscientious scruple; because, they say, their
approval would be a breach of their religious duty ; as if we had any-
thing to do with the private conscience and creed of such people.'

" * Or as if the body of respectable gentlemen who framed the n-gn-
lations, should accede, by rescinding their law, to the superstitious pre-
judices of such people,' echo«'d Graham.

" ' \'er)' true, sir ; the Medes and Persians, I am given to under-
stand, never re(>ealed a law, and why should the gentlemen you speak
of? Besides, there is so little necessity for the concession, the liberal
and wise association can so easily accomplish their professed object
without it'

" ' Panlon me, sir, there we differ : the object proposed is the edu-
cation of the poor of this country, and I cannot exactly see how they

514 Iriah Novels and Irish NoveluU. [April,

are to be educated, if — as is on all hands undeniable— the parish
priests have sufficient influence to keep them now and for ever out of
the school- houses.'

" ' Oh, sir, nothing can be easier. But first let me see that we
understand each other. You and I, suppose, are now riding to the
same]ioint; well, a pit, an inundation, or a fallen mountain, occurs a
little way on, rendering impassable the road we had conceived to be
perfectly easy, so that we cannot gain our journey's end by this road.
If you please, the place we want to reach shall stand for the education
of the poor Irish, the object professed ; we may personify the educating
society, taking our own road ; and the bigotted priests are represented
by the monstrous impediment. Well, sir, we reach that insurmount-
able obstacle to our progress, and now, would it not be most humi-
liating and inconsistent, and all that is unworthy, if we did not in-
stantly stop and declare we would not proceed a foot farther, by any
other road, till one favourite one, that never can be cleared, is cleared
for us ; so far I understand you, sir.'

" ' Then I protest you have an advantage I do not possess over you,
sir,' said Graham.

" * All will be distinct in a moment,' resumed his companion. ' I
say we are both exactly of opinion that the society should not, with
ample means and professions, take a single step towards their end,
unless by their own blockaded way; that, in dignified consistency,
they should not vouchsafe to teach one chattering urchin how to read
or write, or cast up accounts, unless they can at the same time teach
him theology ; in other words, till they see the mountain shoved aside,
or the deluge drained, or the bottomless pit filled up : in other words
again, till the bigotted popish priests consent to sacrifice their con-
science, whatever it may be ; though, meantime, the swarming popu-
lation remain innocent of any essential difference between B and a
bull's foot, or between A and the gable-end of a cabin. We are
agreed, I say, sirl*

" ' Upon my word, whatever may be your real drift, I must admit
you have substantially defined, though in your own strange way, the
very thing that I but just now endeavoured to distinguish. And I
must now repeat, from what we have both said, that the main object
of the society still seems shut out of attainment This, however, was
what you appeared to deny, i think ; I should be glad to hear your
remedy.'

" 'We come to it at once, sir; by no means look out for another
road, but try to get rid of the irremovable barrier.'

" ' I protest, sir, you rather puzzle me.'

" ' That's the way, sir,' continued the stranger, running on in his
wonted delight and bitterness, ' no time can be lost, nor no common
sense and consistency compromised in the hopeful experiment ; that's
the way.'

" ' What, sir? what do you mean ?'

" 'Convert the parish priests; there is nothing easier.' "- pp. 86-92.

1838.] Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. 5\5

We must now bid farewell to John Doe, although strongly
tempted to delay by various passages of great power and beauty,
amongst which we need only particularize the description of
Mary Grace at her prayers, and the scene between Purcell and
the wretched Cathleen ; but we must resist, as our time and
space are both limited, and in consequence we can merely glance
over the remaining works of Mr. Bunim, the principal of which,
The NotclanSy has been made so familiar by frequent criticisms,
as to call for few observations on our part. It is a work strongly
niarke<l by the defects and beauties of our author, the latter,
however, predominant — the interest is intense — the descriptions
true to nature — and although the story is an unpleasant one,
and there are scenes and passages too warmly coloured, (while
vice, though made abundantly " hateful,''^ is, perhaps, too plainly
unveile<l,) yet the moral tendency of the whole is undeniable
and irreproachable. Of the Boyne Water and the Croppy we
do not think so highly, although they abound in passages of
deep feeling and strong interest; but we think they want
originality of plan and design, and the incidents are overstrained
and improbable. The Ghost Hunter we consider the most per-
fect of Mr. Hanim's later productions, and we regret much that
time at present does not permit us to analyse it as closely as its
merits would demand. Perhaps at some future period we may
be able to do so, — meanwhile we will take leave of Mr. Banim,
sincerely rejoicing that he is once more a dweller amongst us,
and earnestly hoping that his native air, and the scenes of his
youth, may not only restore his health, but renovate his genius,
and inspire new works to emulate the fame of their predecessors.

The next to appear before the public was Mr. GriflSn, whose
first work. The Aylmers, although full of promise, did not attract
much attention. This was quickly succeeded by the first series
of Tales of the Munster Fcstirnts, in which a very striking
improvement in style, as well as in management of plot, was
already visible, and which soon obtained very considerable repu-
tation. Card Drawing, the fii-st of these tales, is highly interest-
mg, and the charactei-s, though, with but one exception, slight
sketches, are true to nature. That exception, the character of
Pryce Kavanagh, is a highly finished and masterly portrait.
His cold sullen vindictive nature, brooding for years over fancied
injuries, till time brings a fitting opportunity for revenge without
danger to himself, seems at fii-st sight to fit him to be not only
the chief actor in a scene of blood, and the cunning contriver of
a scheme to throw suspicion on another, but also the unmoved
spectator of that other's death for a crime of which he alone was
guilty. On a closer inspection, however, we find that the worst

516 Irbih Novels and Irish Novel'mts, fApril,

are not all bad — two principles of good still lurked within the
breast of Pryce — the one, strong filial piety — the other, undoubt-
ing faith in the truths of Christianity. Nor can anything be
better drawn than the gradual workings of remorse, suggested
by those virtuous principles, and finding fresh aliment in every
incident, however trifling; until after violent conflicts of feeling,
he takes the better part, and surrenders himself to save the
innocent. The Half-Sir, though not equal as a story to Card
I>ratciugi still displays considerable talent, and it is impossible
not to feel interested for the wayward lovers, Hammond and
Emily, although at the same time provoked with both for the
pride and captiousness which makes their prime of life miserable.
The humours of Remmy O'Lone are but little exaggerated, and
highly amusing; while the scenes amongst the peasantry of the
south, during the prevalence of typhus fever, are but too pain-
fully true. Sail Dhuv, the Coiner, the last tale in the series, is
also the best. There are some slight anachronisms and some
inconsistencies in the plot, but these are but trifling blemishes,
and do not detract from its intrinsic merits. The characters of
the robbers who compose the coiner's gang, are admirably dis-
criminated, and possess a wonderful variety. The stern and
wily, but high-spirited and courageous Suil Dhuv — the ferocious
Red Rory, trembling on the brink of the grave, yet still thirsting
for blood — the stupidly cunning Manus— the sharp, quick -wittea
Awney Farrell — the gentle and fair-spoken Jerry, — and the
vacillating M'Mahon, constant neither to good nor evil, —
each possesses an individuality which makes itself distinctly felt.
There are two scenes in this tale which are equal to anything
the genius of Scott has produced — the first is the introduction
of Kumba among the robbers — the other the sacrilegious attempt
of Suil Dhuv to rob the Mountain Chapel. We are only deterred
from extracting both these passages by our anxiety to come at
once to the master-piece of our author — to 77k? Colleyians. It
is a domestic tragedy of the deepest interest — an original work
of the very highest order. OriginaU we say emphatically
— for although a real occurrence in the south of Ireland (the
murder of a young female by the connivance of her lover, a
young man of good family) has furnished its groundwork, it has
done no more — the perfect and beautiful story erected upon that
groundwork — its characters so truly and delicately drawn — so
admirably grouped — so finely contrasted — its incidents so ani-
mated— so varied — its quaint humour — its deep pathos, and its
pure morality— are all alike the original creations of our author's
genius. The scene is laid in Munstcr some sixty years since,
and the maimers of that day are delineated with much humour,

1888.] Irish NoveU and frisk NotvtiJtts. 517

and, we believe, considerable accuracy. The cliaractere are
drawn from all classes— the hard-drinking, fox-hunting, fire-
eating squire— the much maligned middle-man — the country
jmrish priest — the rich tradesman — the strong farmer — and the
j)oor cottier — each has his representative, and all are faithfully
iwurtrayed. Among the female characters Eily O'Connor claims
the first place. In all the range of romantic fiction we do not
remember so sweet a being ; there is a simplicity, a gentleness,
a power of loving in her disjwsition, which, brought out as they
are by a thousand delicate touches (for she appears but seldom,
and as seldom acts a prominent part) win our utmost sympathy
for her sorrows — our deepest pity and horror for her deplorable
fate. It is, indeed, the highest triumph of our author's genius—
the strongest proof of his skill — that while such a feeling is
excited for Eilv» we still preserve an interest for the faitluess
husband who deserts and destroys her; yet so strong are his
temptations, and so terrible his remorse, that we cannot help
looking on liim more in sorrow than in anger. But instead of
dilating farther on the merits of the CoUeijians (which very ill-
chosen and inappropriate title is, by the way, almost the sole
blemish of the work), we shall proceed to give a few extracts
from its pages, although where all is so good it is hard to
make a choice. Opening the first volume, however, almost at
random, we have chanced upon the scene where Myles Murphy
pleads the cause of his impounded ponies, and we give it as a
fair specimen of the lighter portions of the work : —

" The door opened, and the uncomraissioned master of horse made
his appearance. His figure was at once strikingly majestic and pre-
possessing ; and the natural ease and dignity with which he entered the
room, might almost have become a peer of the realm, coming to
solicit the interest of tlie family for an electioneering candidate. A
broad and sunny forehead, light and wavy hair, a blue cheerful eye, a
nose that in Persia might have won him a throne, healthful cheeks, a
mouth that was full of character, and a well knit and almost gigantic
person, constituted his external claims to attention ; of which his lofty
and confident, although most unassuming carriage, showed him to be
in some degree conscious. He wore a complete suit of brown frieze,
with a gay-coloured cotton handkerchief around his neck, blue worsted
stockings, and brogues carefully greased, while he held in his right hand
an immaculate felt hat, the purchase of the preceding day's fair. In
the lefl he held a straight-handled whip and a wooden rattle, which he
used for the purpose of collecting his ponies when they happened to

straggle The mountaineer now commenced a series of most

profound obtMsances to every individual of the company, beginning
with the ladies, and ending with the officer. After which he remained
glancing from one to another, with a smile of mingled sadness and

518 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

courtesy, as if waiting, like an evoked spirit, the spell word of the
enchantress, who had called him up. ' 'Tisn't manners to speak first
before quoUity,' was the answer he would have been prepared to
render, in case any one had enquired the motive of his conduct.

" ' Well, Myles, what wind has brought you to this part of the
country?' said Mr. Barney Cregan. 'The ould wind always, then,
Mr. Cregan,' said Myles, with another deep obeisance, * seeing would
I get a.feow o' the ponies off. Long life to you, sir; I was proud to
hear you wor above stairs, for it isn't the first time you stood my
friend in trouble. My father (the heavens be his bed this day I) was
a fosterer o* your uncle Mik's, an' a first an' second cousin, be the
mother's side, to ould Mrs. O'Leary, your honour's aunt, westwards.
So 'tis kind for your honour to have a leaning towards uz. '

" * A clear case, Myles ; but what have you to say to Mrs. Chute
about the trespass ?'

" ' What have I to say to her? Why, then, a deal. It's a long
time since I see her now, an' she wears finely, the Lord bless her !
Ah, Miss Anne I — oych, murther ! murther ! sure I'd know that face
all over the world, your own liven image, ma'am, (turning to Mrs.
Chute) an' a little dawney touch o' the masther (heaven rest his soul 1)
about the chin ; you'd think ray grandmother an' himself wor third
cousins. Oh, vo I vo !'

*" He has made out three relations in the company already,' said
Anne to Kyrle ; ' could any courtier make interest more skilfully ?'

" ' Well, Myles, about the ponies.'

" ' Poor craturs, true for you, sir. There's Mr. Creagh there, long
life to him, knows how well I airn *em for ponies. You seen what
trouble I had wid 'em, Mr. Creagh, the day you fought the jewel
with young M'Farlane from the north. They went skelping like mad,
over the hills, down to Glena, when they heard the shots. Ah, indeed,
Mr. Creagh, you cowed the north countryman that morning fairly.'
* My honour is satisfied,* says he, ' if Mr. Creagh will apologize.' * I
didn't come to the ground to apologize,' says Mr. Creagh. ' It's what
I never done to any man,' says he, * an' it '11 be long from me to do it
to you.' ' Well, my honour is satisfied any way,' says the other, when
he heard the pistols cocking for a second shot. I thought I'd split
laughing. ' Pooh ! pooh 1 nonsense, man,' said Creagh, endeavouring
to hide a smile of gratified vanity, ' your unfortunate ponies M-ill
starve, while you stay inventing wild stories.' ' He has gained another
friend since,' whispered Miss Chute.

" * Invent I' echoed the mountaineer. * There's Dr. Leake was on
the spot the same time, an' he knows if I invent. An' you did a good
job, too, that time. Doctor,' he continued, turning to the latter. ' Old
Kegs, the piper, gives it up to you of all the doctors going, for curing
his eye sighth, and he has a great leaning to you ; moreover, you are
such a fine Irishman.'

" * Another,' said Miss Chute, apart.

" ' Yourself an' ould Mr. Daly,' he continued ; * I hope the master
is well in his health, sir? (turning towards Kyrle, with another pro-

18S8.] Irish Noi^U and Irith Sovel'uU. 319

found conge) may the Lord fasteD the life on you and him I That's a
gentleman that wouldn't sec a poor boy in want of his supper or a bed
to sleep in, an' he far from his own people, nor persecute him in
regard of a little trespass that was done unknownit.'

" ' This fellow is irresistible,' said Kyrle. ' A perfect Ulysses.'

** ' And have you nothing to say to the Captain, Myles? Is he no
relation of yours ?*

" ' The Captain, Mr. Cregan ? Except in so far as we are all
servants of the Almighty, and children of Adam, I know of none.
But I have ?i feeling for the red coat, for all. I have three brothers in
the army, serving in America. One of 'em was made a corporal, or
an admiral, or some rait or another, for behavin' well at Quaybec the
time of Woulfe's death. The English showed themselves a great
people that day, surely.'

" Having thus secured to himself what lawyers call * the ear of the
court,' the mountaineer proceeded to plead the cause of his ponies with
much force and pathos ; dwelling on their distance from home, their
wild habits of life, which left them ignorant of the common rules of
boundaries, enclosures, and field-gates ; setting forth, with equal em>
phasis, the length of road they had travelled, their hungry condition,
and the barrenness of the common on which they had been turned
out ; and finally, ui^ing in mitigation of penalty, the circumstance of
this being a first offence, and the improbability of its being ever
renewed in future.

" The surly old steward, Dan Dawley, was accordingly summoned
for the purpose of ordering the discharge of the prisoners, a commission
which he received with a face as black as winter. Miss Anne might
' folly her liking,' he said, ' but it was the last time he'd ever trouble
himself about damage or trespass any more. What affair was it of his,
if all the horses in the barony were turned loose into the kitchen
garden itself?'

•' * Horses do you call 'em,' exclaimed Myles, bending on the old
man a frown of dark remonstrance ; ' a parcel of little ponies, not the
heighth o' that chair.'

" ' What signifies it ?' snarled the steward ; ' they'd eat as much,
and more, than a racer.'

" ' Is it they, the craturs ? They'd hardly injure a plate of stirabout
if it was put before them.'

" ' Aych I— hugh 1'

" * And 'tisn't what I'd expect from you, Mr. Dawley, to be going
again a relation of your own in this manner.'

*♦ * A relation of mine I' growled Dawley, scarce deigning to cast a
glance back over his shoulder, as he hobbled out of the room.

" * Yes, then, of your's.'

" Dawley paused at the door and looked back.

" • Will you deny it to me, if you can, continued Myles, fixing his
eye on him, ' that Biddy Nale, your own gossip, an' Larey Foley, wor
second cousins ? Deny that to me, if you can ?'

" * For what would I deny it ?'

520 Iriih Novels and Irish Novelists. [AprU,

" * Well, whyl — and Larrey Foley was uncle to my father's first
wife (the angels spread her bed this night I) And I tell you another
thing, the Dawleys would cut a poor figure in many a fair westwards,
if they hadn't the Murphys to back them, so they would. But what
hurt ! sure you can foUy your own pleasure.'

" The old steward muttered something which nobody could hear,
and left the room. Myles of the ponies, after many profound bows to
all his relations, and a profusion of thanks to the ladies, followed him,
and was observed a few minutes after in the avenue." — vol. i. pp.
184.-194-.

Passing over with some difficulty many admirable scenes,
(amongst which the death of the old huntsman, Dal ton, stands
conspicuous for power and originality) we come to the lant
interview, as it turned out, of Hardress and Eily.

" ' Hardress,' she said to him one morning when he was preparing
to depart, after an interval of gloomy silence, long unbroken, ' I won't
let you go among those fine ladies any more, if you be thinking of
them always when you come to me again.'

" Her husband started like one conscience-stricken, and looked
sharply round upon her.

" ' What do you mean ?' he said, with a slight contraction of the brows.

" ' Just what I say then,' said Eily, smiling and nodding her head,
with a petty affectation of authority ; ' those fine ladies must not take
you from Eily. And I'll tell you another thing, Hardress ; whisper 1'
she laid her hand on his shoulder, raised herself on tiptoe, and mur-
mured in his ear, ' I'll not let you among the fine gentlemen either, if
that's the teaching they give you.'

" ' What teaching ?'

" * Oh, you know yourself,' Eily continued, nodding and smiling ;

* it is a teaching that you'd never learn from Eily if you spent the
evenings with her as you used to do in the beginning. Do you know
is there ever a priest living in this neighbourhood ?'

<« ' Why do you ask ?'

" ' Because I have something to tell him that lies upon my conscience.'
" ' And would you not confess your failings to an affectionate friend,
Eily, as well as to a holier director ?'

" * I would,' said Eily, bending on him a look of piercing sweetness,

* if I thought he would forgive me afterwards as readily.'

" ' Provided always that you are a true penitent,' returned Hardress,
reaching her his hand.

" ' There is little fear of that,' said Eily. ' It would be well for me,
Hardress, if I could as easily be penitent for heavier sins.' After a
moment's deep thought, Eily resumed her playful manner, and placing
both her hands in the still expanded one of her husband, she continued :

* Well, then, sir, I'll tell you what's troubling me. I'm afraid I'm going
wrong entirely this time back. I got married, sir, a couple of months
ago, to one Mr. Hardress Cregan, a very nice gentlema/i, that I'm very
fond of.'

Ib38.] Ij-ixh Novels and Irhh Novelists. 521

" ' Too fond, perhapit ?'
' " • I'm afraid so, rightly speaking, ulthough I hope he doesn't think
$o. Hut lie told me, when lie brought me down to Killarney, that he
was going tt) speak to his friends,' (tJie brow of the listener darkened)
* and to ask their forgiveness for himself and Eily ; and there's nearly
two months now since I came, and what I have to charge myself with,
^ir, is, that I am too fond of my husband, an<l that I don't like to vex
him by :i>peaking about it, as maybe it would be my duty to do. And,
besides, I don't keep my husband to proper order at all. I let him stop
out sometimes for many days together, arid then I'm very angry with
him : but when he cumes, I'm so foolish and so glad to see him, that I
can't look ci*os», or speak a Imrd word, if I was to get all Ireland for it.
And more than that again, I'm not at all sure how he spends his time
while he is out, and I don't question him properly about it. I know
tliere are a great many handsome young ladies where he goes, and a
deal of gentU'meu that are very pleasant conjpany after dinner; for, in-
deed, my husband is often more merry tJian wise, when he comes home
Utte at night, and still Kily says noUiing. And besides all this, I think
my husband has something weighing upon his mind, and I don't make
him tell it to me, as a good wife ought to do ; and I'd like to have a
friend's advice, as you're good enough to ofl'er it, sir, to know what I'd
do. What do you think about him, sir? Do you think any of the
ladies ha3 taken his fancy ? or do you think he's grow ing tired of Eily ?
or that he doesn't think so much of her, now that he knows her better?
What would you advise me to do ?*

" * I am rather at a loss,' said Hardress, with some bitterness in his
accent ; ' it is so difticult to advise a jealous person.'

" ' Jealous I' exclaimed Eily, with a slight blush ; ' ah, now I'm sorry
1 canie to you at all ; for I see you know nothing about me, since you
tliink that's the way. I see now that you don't know how to advise me
at all, and I'll leave you there. What would I be jealous of?'

" ' Why, of those handsome young ladies that your husband visits.'

" ' Ah, if I was jealous that way,' said Eily, with a keen and serious
smile, ' that isn't Ute way I'd show it.'

« * How, then, Eily ?'

" * Why, first of all, I wouldn't as much as think of such a thing,
without the greatest reason in the world, without being downright sure
of it ; and if I got that reason, nobody would ever know it, for I
wouldn't say a word, only walk into that room there, and stretch upon
tlie bed, and die.'

" * Why, that's what many a brutal husband, Lo such a case, would
exactly desire.'

" ' So itself,' said Eily, with a flushed and kindling cheek ; ' so itself.
I wouldn't be long in his way, I'll engage.'

" ' Well, then,' Ilardress said, rising and addressing her with a severe
solemnity uf manner, ' my advice to you is this. As long as you live,
never presume to inquire into your husband's secrets, nor affect an in-
fluence which he never will admit And if you wish to avoid that great
reason for jealousy of which you stand in fear, avoid sufl'ering the

VOL. IV.— NO. VIII. 2 .M

522 Irish Novels and Insh Novelists. [Apriff

i^liglitest suspicion to appear ; for men are stubborn beings, and when
such suspicions are wantonly set afloat, they find the temptation to fur-
nish them with a cause almost irresistible.'

" • Well, Hardress,' said Eily, ' you are angry with me, after aH»
Didn't you say you would forgive me ? Oh, then. Til engage I'd be
Tery sorr}' to say any thing, if I thought you'd be this way.'

" ' I am not angry,' said Hardress, in a tone of vexation. ' I do for-
give you,' he added, in an accent of sharp reproof; ' I spoke entirely
for your own sake.'

" ' And wouldn't Hardress allow his own Eily her little joke?'

" ' Joke r exclaimed Hardress, bursting into a sudden passion, which
made his eyes water, and his limbs shake, as if they would have sunk
beneath him. ' Am I become the subject of your nrirth I Ihry after
day my brain is verging nearer and nearer to utter madness, and do you
jest on that? Do you see this cheek? — you count more hollows there
than when I met you first, and does that make you merry ? Give me
your hand ! Do you feel how that heart beats ? Is that a subject,
Eily, for joke or jest? Do you think this face turns thin or yellow for
nothing ? Tl>ere are a thousand and a thousand horrid thoughts and
temptations burning within me daily, and eating my flesh away by
inches. The Ae\\\ is laughing at me, and Eily joins him V

" * Oh, Hardress — Hardress V

" ' Yes I — you have the best right to laugh, for you are the gainer [
Curse on you I — Curse on your beauty — curse on my own folly — for I
have been undone by both 1 Let go my arm \ I hate you \ Take the
truth, ni not be poisoned with it. I am sick of you — you have dis-
gusted me I I will ease my heart by telling you the whole. If I seek
the society of other women, it is because I find not among them your
meanness and vulgarity. If I get dmnk, and make myself the beast
you say, it is in the hope to forget the iron chain that binds me to
youl'

" * Oh, Hardress 1' shrieked the affrighted girl, * you are not in ear-
nest now ?'

" *I ami / do not joke I' her husband exclaimed, with a hoarse
vehemence. * Let go my knees ! — you are sure enough of me. I am
bound to you too firmly.'

" ' Oh, my dear Hardress I Oh, my own husband, listen to me I
Hear your own Eily for one moment I Oh, my poor father 1'

" ' Ha 1"

" ' It slipped from me I Forgive me I I know I am to blame, — I am
greatly to blame, dear Hardress ; but forgive me I I left my home and
all for you — oh, do not cast me off" I I will do anything to please you
— I never will open my lips again — only say you did not mean all that I
Oh, Heaven I' she continued, throwing her head back, and looking up-
ward with expanded mouth and eyes, while she maintained her kneeling
posture, and clasped her husband's feet. ' Merciful Heaven, direct
him I Oh, Hardress, think how far I am from home ! — think of all you
promised me, and how I believed you ! Stay with m& for a while, at
any rate. Do not — '

188B.] Irish yovels and Irak Novelists. 59$

** On a sudden, while Hardress was still struggling to free himself
from her anus, without doing her a violence — Eily felt a swimming in
her head, and a cloud upon her sight. The next instant she was nio«
tionless.** — vol. ii. pp. 140-50.

Our next extract is one of a less painful nature, and quite
equal to the last in power and beauty. It is the visit of the un-
happy Eily to her uncle, tlie parish priest, upon Christmas morn-
ing.

*' After a sharp and frosty morning, the cold sun of the Christmas
noon found Father Edward O'Connor seated in his little parlour, before
a cheerful turf fire. A small table was laid before it, and decorated
with a plain breakfast, which the fatigues of the forenoon rendered not
a little acceptable. The sun shone directly in the window, dissolving
slowly away the fantastic foliage of frost-work upon the window-panes,
and flinging its shadow on the boarded floor. The reverend host him-
self sat in a meditative posture near the fire, awaiting the arrival of
some fresh eggs, over the cookery of which, Jim, the clerk, presided in
the kitchen. His head was drooped a little, — his eyes fixed upon the
burning fuel, — his nether lip a little protruded, — his feet stretched out
and crossed, — and the small bulky volume, in which he had been read-
tng his daily oflice, half-closed in his right hand, with a finger left be-
tween the leaves to mark the place. No longer a pale and secluded
student. Father Edward now presented the appearance of a healthy man,
with a face hardened by frequent exposure to the winds of midnight
and of morn, and with a frame made firm and vigorous by unceasing
exercise. His eye, moreover, had acquired a certain character of seve-
rity, which was moce than qualified by a nature of the tenderest bene-
volence. On the table, close to the small tray which held his simple
tea-equipage, was placed a linen bag, containing, in silver, the amount
of his Christmas offerings. They had been paid him on that morning,
in crowns, half-crowns, and shillings, at the parish chapel. And Father
Edward, on this occasion, had returned thanks to his parishioners for
their liberality, — the half-yearly compensation for all his toils and exer-
tions, his sleepless nights and restless days, amounting to no less a sum
than thirteen pounds, fourteen shillings

" < 'Tis an admiration, sir,' said Jim, the clerk, as he entered, clad in
a suit of Father Edward's rusty black, laid the eggs upon the tray, and
moved back to a decorous distance from the t-^ble. ♦ 'Tis an admira-
tion what a sighth of people is abroad in the kitchen, money-hunting.'

" ' Didn't I tell them the last time, that I never would pay a bill upon
a Christmas day again.'

" ' That's the very thing 1 said to *em, sir. But 'tis the answer they
made me, that they come a long distance, and it would cost 'em a day
more if they were obliged to be coming again to-morrow.'

" Father Edward, with a countenance of perplexity and chagrin, re-
moveil the top of the egg, while he cast a glance alternately at the bag,
and at his clerk. ' It is a hard case, Jim,' he said at last, * that they
will not allow a man even the satisfaction of retaining so much money

2 M 2

524 Irish Noveh and Irish Novelists. [April,

in his possession for a single day, and amusing himself by fancying it
his own. I suspect I am doomed to be no more than a mere agent to
this thirteen pound fourteen, after all ; to receive and pay it away in a
breath.'

" ' Just what I was thinking myself, sir,' said Jim.

" * Well, 1 suppose I must not cost the poor fellows a day's work,
however, Jim, if they have come such a distance. That would be a
little Pliarasaical, I fear.'

'* Jim did not understand this word, but he bowed, as if he would
say, ' Whatever your reverence says, must be correct.' * *

" Father Edward emptied the bag of silver, and counted into several
sums the amount of all the bills. When he had done so, he took in one
hand the few shillings that remained, threw them into the empty bag,
jingled them a little, smiled, and tossed his head. Jim, the clerk,
smiled, and tossed his head in sympathy.

" ' It's aisier emptied than filled, plase your reverence,' said Jim, with
a short sigli.

" 'If it were not for the honour and dignity of it,' thought Father
Edward, after his clerk had once more left the room, ' my humble
curacy at St. John's were preferable to this extensive charge, in so
dreary a peopled wilderness. Quiet lodgings, a civil landlady, regular
hours of discipline, and the society of my oldest friends ; what was there
in these that could be less desirable than a cold small house, on a moun-
tain-side, total seclusion from the company of my equals, and a fearful
increase of responsibility ? Did the cause of preference lie in the dis-
tinction between the letters V.P. and P.P., and the pleasure of paying
away thirteen pounds fourteen shillings at Christmas? Oh, world!
world 1 world ! you are a great stage-coach, with fools for outside pas-
sengers; a huge round lump of earth, on the surface of which men seek
for peace, but find it only when they sink beneath ! Would I not give
the whole thirteen pounds fourteen at this moment, to sit once more in
my accustomed chair, in that small room, with the noise of the streets
just dying away as the evening fell, and my poor little Eily reading to
me from the window as of old, as innocent, as happy, and as dutiful as
then ? Indeed I would, and more, if I had it. Poor Mihil I Ah, Eily,
Eily 1 you deceived me I Well, well I Old Mihil says I am too ready
to preach patience to him. I must try and practise it myself.*

" At this moment the parlour-door opened again, and Jim once more
-thrust in his head.

" ' A girl, sir, that's abroad, and would want to see you, if you plase.'
* • * • •

" Jim went out, and presently returned, ushering in, with many
curious and distrustful glances, the young female of whom he had
spoken. * * When the clerk had left the room, Father Edward
indulged in a preliminary examination of the person of his visitor. She
■was young and well-formed, and clothed in a blue cloak and bonnet,
which were so disposed as she sat, as to conceal altogether both her
person and features. '

" ' Well, my good girl,' said the clergyman in an encouraging tone,
' what is your business with me ?'

1838.] irith Novels and J risk NoveluUs. 6^

" The }'oung female remained for some moments silent, and lier dress
moved as if it were agitated by souie strong emotion of the frame. At
length, riiiing from her seat, and tottering towards the astonished priest,
she knelt down at his feet, and exclaimed, while she uncovered her face,
with a burst of tears and sobbing, ' Oh, uncle Edward, don't } ou Luow
me?'

" Her uncle started from his chair. Astonishment, for some mo-
ments held him silent, and almost breathless. He at last stooped doM'n,
^zed intently on her face, raised her, and placed her on a chair, where
she remained quite passive, resumed his seat, and covered his face, in
silence, with his hand. Eily, more affected by this action than she
might have been by the bitterest reproaches, continued to weep aloud
with increasing violence.

" ' Don't cry — do not afflict yourself,' said Father EUlward, in a quiet
yet cold tone; * there can be no use in that. The Lord forgive you,
child ! Don't cry. Ah, Eily O'Connor I I never thought it would be
our fate to meet in this manner.'

" ' I hope you will forgive me, uncle,' sobbed the poor girl ; ' I did
it for the best, indeed.'

" ' Did it for the best !' said the clergyman, looking on her for the
first time with some sternness. ' Now, Eily, you will vex me, if you
say that again. I was in hopes that, lost as you are, you came to me,
nevertheles.s, in {H*niUnce and in humility at least, which was the only
consolation your friends couhl ever look for. But the first word I hear
from you is an excuse, a justification of your crime. Did it for the
best ! Don't you remember, Eily, having ever read in that book I w as
accustomed to explain to you in old times, that the excuses of Saul
made his repentance unaccepted? and will you imitate his example?
You did it for the best, after all ! I won't speak of my own sufi'erings,
since this unhappy afiair, but there is your old father (I am sorry to
hurt your feelings, but it is my duty to make you know the extent of
your guilt) — your old father has not enjoyed one moment's rest ever
since you left him. He was here with me a week since, for the second
time after your departure, and I never was so shocked in all my life.
You cry ; but you would cry more bitterly if you saw him. When I
knew you together, he was a good father to you, and a happy father
too. He is now a frightful skeleton I Was tliat done for the best,
•Eily ?•

" ' Oh ! no, no, sir, I did not mean to say that I acted rightly, or even
from a right intention. 1 only meant to say, that it wus nut quite so
bad as it might appear.'

" ' To judge by your own appearance, Eily,' her uncle continued, in
A compassionate tone, ' one would say, that its effects have not l)een
productive of much happiness on either side. Turn to the light ; you
are very thin and pale. Poor child ! poor child ! oh ! why did you do
tliis ? What could have tempted you to throw away your health, your
duty, to destroy your father's peace uf mind, and your father's reputation,
all in one day !'

'* ' Uncle,' said Eily, * there is one point on which I fear you have

526 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

made a wrong conclusion. I have been, I know, sir, very ungrateful
to you, and to my father, and very guilty in the sight of heaven, but I
am not quite so abandoned a creature as you seem to think me. Dis-
obedience, sir,' she added, with a blush of the deepest crimson, * is the
very worst offence of which I can accuse myself.'

" ' What !' exclaimed Father Edward, while his eyes lit up with sud-
den pleasure, ' are you then married ?'

*• * I was married, sir, a month before I left my father.'

" The good clergyman seemed to be more deeply moved by this in-
telligence than by anything which had yet occurred in the scene. He
winked repeatedly with his eyelids, in order to clear away the moisture
which began to overspread the balls, but it would not do. The fountain
had been unlocked, it gushed forth in a flood too copious to be restrained,
and he gave up the contest. He reached his hand to Eily, grasped hers,
shook it fervently and long, while he said, in a voice that vcaa made
hoarse and broken by emotion : —

" ' Well, well, Eily, that's a great deal. 'Tis not every thing, but it is
a great deal. The general supposition was, that the cause of secrecy
could be no other than a shameful one. 1 am very glad of this, Eily I
This will be some comfort to your father.' He again pressed her hand,
and shook it kindly, while Eily wept upon his own like an infant I

" * And where do you stay now, Eily ? Where — who is your husband ?'

Eily appeared distressed at this question, and, after some embarrass-
ment, said : — ' My dear uncle, I am not at liberty to answer you those
questions at present. My husband does not know of my having even
taken this step : and I dare not think of telling what he commanded
that I should keep secret.'

" ' Secrecy still, Eily ?' said the clergj'man, rising from his seat, and
walking up and down the room, with his hands behind his back, and a
severe expression returning to his eye, — ' I say again, I do not like this
affair. Why should your husband affect this deep concealment ? Is he
poor ? — your father will rejoice to find it no worse. Is he afraid of the
resentment of your friends? — let him bring back our own Eily, and he
will be received with open arms. What besides conscious guilt can
make him thus desirous of concealment ?'

" ' I cannot tell you his reasons, uncle,' said Eily, timidly, ' but
indeed he is nothing of what you say.'

" ' Well ; and how do you live, then, Eily ? With his friends, or
how? If you cannot tell where, you may at least tell how?'

" ' It is not will not with me, indeed, uncle Edward, but dare not.
My first act of disobedience cost me dearly enough, and I dare not
attempt a second.'

" ' Well, well,' replied her uncle, a little annoyed, ' you have more
logic than I thought you had. I must not press you farther on that
head. But how do you live ? Where do you hear mass on Sundays ?
or, do you hear it regularly at all ?'

Eily's drooping head and long silence gave answer in the negative.
.... * Did you hear mass a single Sunday at all sinctf you left home ?'
he asked in increasing amazement.

18S8.] Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. 527

•* * Eily answered in a whisper, between her teeth, * Not one.' The
;;ood Religious lifled \m hands to heaven, and then suffered them to
fall motionless by his side. ' O you poor child I' he exclaimed, * May
the Lord forgive you your sins ! It is no wonder that you should
be asliara(>d, and afraid, and silent.' . . . ' And what was your object in
coming then, if you had it not in your power to tell me anything that
could enable me to be of some assistance to you?"

" ' I came, sir,' said Kily, " in the hoi>e that you would, in a kinder
manner than any body else, let my father know all that I have told you,
and inform him, moreover, that I hope it will not be long before I am
allowed to ask his pardon, with my own lips, for all the sorrow that I
have caused him. I M'as afraid if I had asked my husband's permissioa
to make this journey it might have been refused. I will now return,
and persuade him, if I can, to come here with me again this week.'

" Father Edward again paused for a considerable time, and evcntuallj^
addressed his niece with a deep seriousness of voice and manner.
* Eily,' he said, a strong light has broken in upon me respecting your
situation. I fear this man, in whom you trust so much and so gene-
rously, and to whose will you show so perfect an obedience, is not a
person fit to be trusted nor obeyed. You are married, I think, to one
who is not proud of his wife. Stay with me, Eily, I advise — I warn you !
It appears by your own words that this man is a tyrant ; already he loves
you not, and from being despotic he may grow dangerous. Rcmaia
with me and write him a letter. I do not judge the man. I speak only
from general probabilities, and these would suggest the great wisdom of
your acting as I say.'

" * I dare not, I could not, would not do so,' said Eily, * you never
were more mistaken in any body's character than in his of whom you
are speaking. If I did not fear, I love him far too well to treat him
with so little confidence. When next we meet, uncle, you shall know
the utmost of my apprehensions. At present I can say no more. And
the time is passing too ; I am pledged to return this evening. Well, my
dear uncle, good bye I I hope to bring you back a better niece than you
you are parting M-ith now. Trust all to me for three or four days more,
and Eily never will have a secret again from her uncle, nor her father.'

"'Good bye, child, good bye, Eily,' said the clergyman, much
affected. * Slop — stay — come here, Eily, an instant 1' He took up the
linen bag, before mentioned, and shook out into his hand the remaining
silver of his dues. ' Eily,' said he with a smile, 'it is a long time since
uncle Edward gave you a Christmas- box. Here is one for you. Open
your hand, now, if you do not wish to offend me. Good bye, good
bye, my poor darling child I* He kissed her cheek, and then, as if re-
proaching himself for an excess of leniency, he added in a more stem
accent : ' I hope, Eily, that this may be the last time I shall have to
part from my niece without being able to tell her name.'

" Eily had no other answer than her tears, which in most instances
were the most persuasive arguments she could employ.

" ' She is an affectionate simple little creature after all,' said Father
Edward, when hia niece had lefl the house, ' a simple affectionate

528 Irisli Noi'efs and Irish Norelista. [April,

creature — but I was in the right to be severe with her," he added, giving
himself credit for more than he deserved, 'her conduct called for some
severity, and I was in the right to exercise it as I did.' — vol. ii. pp.
207-11,213 228.

Our next, extract shall be the departure of Eily from her
cottage, in obedience to the commands of Hardress — a scene of
the most touching pathos — enhanced by the horrors of the fate
which awaits her, and which dimly " casts its shadows before."

" It was the eve of little Christmas, and Eily was seated by the fire,
still listening with the anxiety of defeated hope to every sound that ap-
proached the cottage door. She held in her hand a small prayer book,
in which she was reading, from time to time, the office of the day. The sins
and negligences of the courted maiden and the happy bride, came now
in dread array before the memory of the forsaken wUe, and she leaned
forwa'-d, with her cheek supported by one finger, to contemplate the
long arrear in silent penitence. They were for the most part such
transgressions as might, in a more worldly soul, be considered indicative
of innocence, rather than hopeless guilt ; but Eily's was a young and
tender conscience, that bore the burden with reluctance and with
difficulty.

" Poll Naghten was arranging at a small table the three-branched
candle, with which the vigil of this festival is observed in Catholic
houses. While she was so occupied, a shadow fell upon the threshold,
and Eily started from her chair. It was that of Danny Mann. She
looked for a second figure, but it did not appear, and she returned to
her chair, with a look of agony and disappointment

" ' Where's your masther ? Isn't he coming ?' asked Poll, while she
applied a lighted rush to one of the branches of the candle.

" ' He isn't,' returned Danny, in a surly tone, ' he has something
else to do.'

" He approached Eily, who observed, as he handed her the note, that he
looked more pale than usual, and that his eye quivered with an uncertain
and gloomy fire. Shecasthereyeson thenote,in the hopeof finding there
a refuge from the fears which crowded in upon her. But it came only
to coiifirm them in all their gloomy force. She read it word after
word, and then letting her hand fall lifeless by her Side, she leaned back
against the wall in an attitude of utter desolation. Danny avoided
contemplating her in this condition, and stooped forward, with his hands
expanded over the fire. The whole took place in silence so complete,
that Poll wjis not yet aware of the transaction, and had not even looked
on Eily. Again she raised the paper to her eyes, and again she read in the
same well known hand, to which her pulses had so often thrilled and quick-
ened, the same unkind, cold and heartless, loveless wore' s. She thought
of the first time on which she had met with Hardress — she remembered
the warnith, the tendemes.-*, the respectful zeal of his young and early
attachment — she recalled his favourite phrases of afiection — and again
she looked upon this unfeeling scrawl — and the contrast ^most broke her
heart She thought, that if he were determined to renounce her, he

Iftd80 ^'•'»A \orels and Irish Aotelisls. 520

might at Ica^t have romo and spoken a word at parting ; even if he had
uwd the same violence as in their last interview. His utmost harshness
would be kinder than indifference like this. It was an irremediable
affliction — one of those fripiitful visitations from the effect* of which a
feeble and unela««tic eharacter, like that of this imhappy girl, can never
after be recovered. Hut though the character of Eily was unela.stic —
though, when onc(^ bowed <l<>wn by a calamitous pressure, her spirits
could not recoil, but took the drooping form, and retained it, even after
that pressure was removed; still she possessed a heroism peculiar to
herself i the noblest heroism of which humanity is capable — the
heroism of endurance. The time had now arrived for the exercise of
that faculty of silent sufferance, of which she had made her gentle
boast to Hanlress. She saw now that complaint would be in vain, that
Hardress loved her not— that she was dead in his affections — and that
although she might disturb the quiet of her husband, she never could
restore her own. She determined, therefore, to obey him at once, and
without a murmur. She thought that Hardress's unkiiidness had its
origin in a dislike to her, and did not at all imagine the possibility of his
proceeding to such a degree of jxirfidy as he, in point of fact, contem-
plated. Had she done so she would not have agreed to maintain the
secrecy w Inch she had promised.

•' While this train of mediiation m as still passing through her mind,
Danny Mann advanced towards the place where she was standing, and
said, without raising hiseyts from her feet: —

" ' If you're agreeable to do what's in dat paper, Mism Eily, I have a
boy below at de gap, wit a horse an* car, an' you can set off to-night if
you like.'

" Ely, as if yielding to a mechanical impulse, glided into the little
room, which, during the honey-moon, had been furnished and decorated
for her own use. She restrained her eyes from wandering as much as
possible ; and commenced with hurried and trembling hands her
arrangements for dt'parture. They were few and speedily effected.
Her apparel was folded into her trunk, and, for once, she tied on her
bonnet and cloak without referring to the glass. It was all over now I
It was a happy dream, but it was ended. Not a tear fell, not a sigh
escajMHi her lips, during the course of these farewell occupations. The
struggle within her breast was deep and terrible, but it was firmly
mastered.

" A few minutes only elapsed before she again appeared at the door
of the little chamber accoutred for the journey.

" ' Danny,' she said, in a faint small voice, ' I am ready.'

•" Ready ?' exclaimed Poll. ' Is it going you are, d-chreeP' Notliing
coulil be more dangerous to Eily's tirnmess, at this moment, than any
sound of conmiiseration or of kindness. She felt the difficulty at
once, and hurried to escape the chance of this additional trial. ' Poll,'
she replied, still in the same faint tone, 'good bye to you ! I aui sorrj' I
have only thanks to give you at parting, but I will not forget you, when
it is in my power. I left my things within, 1 will send for them some
other time.'

530 IrUh Novels and Irish NovelUls. [April,

" ' And where is it you're going? Danny, what's all this about ?*

" * What business is it of your's ? ' replied her brother, in a peevi«h
tone, or of mine eider ? It's de master's bidding, and you can ax him
why he done it, when he comes, if you want to know.'

" ' But the night will rain. It will be a bad night,' said Poll. * I
seen the clouds gatherin' for thunder, an' I comin' down the moun-
tain.'

" Eily smiled faintly, and shook her head, as if to intimate that the
change of the seasons would henceforth be to her a matter of trivial
interest. ' If it is the master's bidding, it must be right, no doubt,'
said Poll, still looking in wonder and perplexity on Eily's dreary and
dejected face ; ' but it is a queer story, that's what it is.' Without
venturing to reiterate her farewell, Eily descended, with a hasty but
feeble step, the broken path which led to the gap road, and was quickly
followed by the little lord. Committing herself to his guidance, she
soon lost sight of the mountain cottage, which she had sought in hope
and joy, and which she now abandoned in despair.' "

Unwillingly obliged by want of space to pass over the beauti-
ful and affecting episode of the death and funeral of Mrs. Daly
we come to the most harrowing scene in the book — the discovery
made at the fox-hunt given by Conolly — let it speak for itself:

" The fox was said to have earthed in the side of a hill near the
river-side, which on one side was grey with lime-stone crag, and on
the other covered with a quantity of close furze. Towards the water,
a miry and winding path among the underwood led downward to an
extensive marsh or corcass, which lay close to the shore. It was over-
grown with a dwarfish rush, and intersected M'ith numberless little
creeks and channels, which were never filled, except when the spring-
tide was at the full. On a green and undulating champagne above
the hill, were a considerable number of gentlemen mounted, con-
versing in groups, or cantering their horses around the plain, while the
huntsmen, whippers-in and dogs, were busy among the furze, en-
deavouring to make the fox break cover. A crowd of peasants, boys,
and other idlers, were scattered over the green, awaiting the com-
mencement of the sport, and amusing themselves by criticizing with
much sharpness of sarcasm, the appearance of the horses, and the
action and manner of their riders. "The search after the fox continued

for a long time without avail The morning, which had promised

fairly, began to change and darken. It was one of those sluggish
days, which frequently usher in the spring season in Ireland ; on the
water, on land, in air, on earth, every thing was motionless and calm.
The boats slept upon the bosom of the river. A low and dingy mist
concealed the distant shores and hills of Clare. Above, the eye could
discern neither cloud nor sky. A heavy haze covered the face of the
heavens, from one horizon to the other. The sun was wholly veiled
in mist, his place in the heavens being indicated only by the radiance
of the misty shroud in that direction. A thin drizzling shower, no
heavier than a summer dew, descended on the party, and left a hoary

1888.] Irish SoveU and Irish Novelists. 5S1

and glistening moisture on their dresses, on the manes and forelocks
of the horses, and on the face of the surrounding landscajie.

" • No fox to-day, I fear,' said Mr. Cregan, riding up to one of the
groups before- mentioned, which comprised his son, Hardress, and Mr.

Conolly * Hark ! what is that ?' said ConoUy. ' What are

tlie dogs doing now ?'

'- ' They have left the cover on the hill,' said a gentleman who was
galloping past, ' and are trying the corcass.'

" * Poor Dalton I' said Mr. Cregan, • that was the man that would
have had old Reynard out of cover before now.'

" * Poor Dalton I' exclaimed Hardress, catching up the word with
passionate emphasis, ' poor, poor Dalton I O days of my youth 1' he
added, turning aside on his saddle, that he might not be observed, and
looking out upon the quiet river. * O days— past, happy days. My
merry boyhood, and my merry youth ! my boat 1 the broad river, the
rough west wind, the broken waves, and the heart at rest. O misera-
ble wretch, what have you now to hope for ? My heart will burst
before I leave this field I'

♦* * The dogs are chopping,' said Conolly ; * they have found him —
come t come away I'

" * Ware hare 1' said the old gentleman ; ' Ware hare I* was echoed
by many voices. A singular hurry was observed amongst the crowd
upon the brow of the hill, which overlooked the corcass, and presently
all had descended to the marsh. ' There's something extraordinary
going on there,' said Cregan ; ' what makes all the crowd collect upon
the marsh ?' . . . The hounds continued to chop in concert, as if they
had found a strong scent, and yet no fox appeared.

" At length, a horseman was observed riding up the miry pass be-
fore-mentioned, and galloping towards them. When he approached,
they could observe that his manner was flurried and agitated, and that
his countenance wore an expression of terror and compassion. He
tightened the rein suddenly as he came upon the group. * Mr. War-
ner,' . he said, ' I believe you are a magistrate ?' Mr. Warner bowed.
* Then come this way, sir, if you please. A terrible occasion ipakes
your presence necessary on the other side of the hill.'

" • No harm, sir, to any of our friends, I hope ?* said Mr. Warner,
putting spurs to his horse, and galloping away. The answer of the
stranger was lost in the tramp of the hoofs, as they rode away.

" Immediately afl«r, two other horsemen came galloping by. One
of them held in his hand a straw bonnet, beaten out of shape, and
draggled in the mud of the corcass. Hardress just caught the word
' horrible,' as they rode swiftly by.

" ' What's horrible ?' shouted Hardress aloud, and rising in his
stirrup. The two gentlemen were already out of hearing.

" * I did not hear him,' said Conolly, ' but come down upon the
corcass, and we shall learn.' They galloped in that direction. The
morning was changing fast, and the rain was now di^seending in much
greater abundance. Still, there was not a breath of wind to alter its
direction, or to give the slightest animation to the general lethargic

532 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

look of nature. As they arrived on the brow of the liill, they per-
ceived the crowd of horsemen and peasants collected into a dense mass,
around one of the little channels before described. Several of those in
the centre were stooping low, as if to assist a fallen person. The
individuals who stood outside were raised on tiptoe, and endeavoured,
by stretching their heads over the shoulders of their neighbours, to
peep into the centre. The whipper-in, meanwhile, was flogging the
hounds away from the crowd, while the dogs reluctantly obeyed.
Mingled with the press were the horsemen, bending over their saddle-
bows, and gazing downwards on the centre.

*' ' Bad manners to ye !' Hardress heard the whipper-in exclaim, as
he passed ; ' what a fox ye found for us this morning I How bad ye
are now, for a taste o' the Christian's flesh I' . . . . Urged by an un-
accountable impulse, and supported by an energy he knew not whence
derived, Hardress alighted from his horse, threw the reins to a country-
man, and penetrated the group with considerable violence. He dragged
some by the collars from their places, pushed others aside with his
slioulder, struck tlie refractory wit!i his whip-handle, and in a few
moments attained tiie centre of the ring.

" Here lie paused, and gazed in motionless horror upon the picture
which the crowd had previously concealed. Opposite to Hardress
stood Mr. Warner, the magistrate and coroner for the county. On
his right stood the pei"son who had summonc^d him to the spot. At
the feet of Hardress was a small pool, in which the waters now appeared
disturbed and thick with mud, while the rain descending straight, gave
to its surface the appearance of ebullition. On a bank at the other
side, which was covered with the sea-pink and a species of short moss,
on object lay, on which the eyes of all were bent, with a fearful and
gloomy expression. It was for the most part concealed beneath a
large blue mantle, which was drenched in wet and mire, and lay so
heavy on the thing beneath as to reveal the lineaments of a human
form. A pair of small feet, in Spanish leather shoes, appearing from
below the end of the garment, showed that the body was that of a
female ; and a mass of long, fair hair, which escaped from beneath the
capacious hood, demonstrated that this death, whether the effect of
accident or malice, had found the victim untimely in her youth.

" The cloak, the feet, the hair, were all familiar objects to the eye of
Hardress. On very slight occasions, he had often found it absolutely
impossible to maintain his self-possession in the presence of others.
Now, when the fell solution of all his anxieties was exposed before
him, — when it became evident that the guilt of blood was upon his
head, — now, when he looked upon the shattered corpse of Eily, of his
chosen and once-beloved wife, murdered in her youth, almost in her
girlhood, by his connivance, it astonished him to And that all emotion
came upon the instant to a dead pause within his breast. Others
might have told him that his face was rigid, sallow, and bloodless, as
that of the corpse on which he gazed. But he himself felt notliing of
this. Not a sentence that was spoken was lost upon his. ear. He did
not oven tremble, and a slight anxiety for bis personal safety was the

18S8.] Irifth NoveU and Irish NoielhtH.

onljr sentiment of which he was perceptibly conscious. It seemed as if
the great passion, lilce an engine embarrassed in its action, had been
suddt-nly struck niotionit-ss, even while the impelling principle re-
mained in active force At this moment ihe hounds once more

opened into a chopping concert, and Hardress, starting from liiK posture
of rigid calmness, extended his arms, and burst into a passion of wild
fear.

•* • The hounds I the hounds !' he exclaimed. ' Mr. Warner, do you
hear them ? Keep off the dogs I They will tear her if ye let them
pass 1 Good sir, will you suffer the dogs to tear her ? I had rather
he torn myself, than look upon such a sight Ye may stare as ye will,
but I tell ye all a truth, gentlemen. A truth, I say — upon ray life, a
truth!'

" * There is no fear,' said Warner, fixing a keen and practised eye
upon him.

•' ' Aye, but there is, sir, by your leave,' cried Hardress. ' Do you
hear them now ? Do you hear that yell for blood ? I tell you I hate
that horrid cry. It is enough to make the heart of a Christian burst.
Who put the hounds upon that horrid scent ? — that false scent? I am
going mad, I think. I say, sir, do you hear that yelling now ? Will
you tell mc now there is no fear ? Stand close I stand close, and hide
me — her, I mean ; stand close !'

" ♦ I think there is none whatever,' said the coroner, probing him.

" ' And / tell yon,' cried Hardress, grasping his whip, and abandon^
ing himself to an almost delirious excess of rage, ' / tell you there is.
If this ground should open before me, and I should hear the hounds of
Satan yelling upward from the deep, it could not freeze mc with a
greater fear.' "

We have now ffiven, we think, a sufficient number of extracts
to justify the higli praise we have bestowed on this work, in the
opinion of such of our readers as may not hanpen to have read
the work itself. To such (and we teel confadent they are but
few) we would reconnnend the perusal of the entire of TTie
Colletjlans^ as it is impossible for the most copious extracts to

f[ive a correct idea of its merits. Mr. Griffin has since pub-
ished several works, all displaying much talent, but none
equalling The CoUeifians. Of these, Tracy's Ambition is the
best. 'The Jiirnh, though an interesting tale, is evidently
written in great haste, and abounds in improbable and unnatural
incidents. 'Hie characte»-s, too, are over-strained, and the style
inflated.

In The Duke of Monmouth^ his latest production, our author
has fallen much below his usual standard, tind has produced u
feeble and uninteresting work, solely, we believe, in consequence
ofbeing for once seduced into an imitation of the historical novels
of Scott, and deserting die style he had created for himself.
We trust his failure on this occasion will prove an useful lesson

534 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

to him, and that the next work he offers to the pubHc will be in
the genre of The Collegians — an original tale, illustrating, as
that does, the feelings, the passions, as well as the manners and
customs, of his countrymen. There is one praise, however,
which the least interesting of Mr. Griffin's works may safely
claim — and it is the highest of all praise — that not one of them
contains a " line which dying he may wish to blot ;" they
breathe the purest morality, inculcate the highest principles, and
express the deepest religious feeling. Their author is evidently
a practical^ as well as a professing. Catholic ; and boldly stands
forth on all occasions to avow himself as such.

We turn to the works of Mr. Carleton with strangely mingled
feelings ; — admiration, pity, sorrow, and indignation, alternately
taking possession of our mind. We grieve to see talents of a
high order, and feelings naturally kind and warm, warped and
perverted, to serve the ends, and feed the foul appetite for
slander, of a faction. We know nothing of the private history of
Mr. Carleton, but from his writings we should gather that he is
one who had left the religion in which he was brought up, from
motives in which pique strongly predominated, and this we
infer from the extreme bitterness with which, in his first works
especially, he assails the Catholic faith and its ministers. We
are bound to add, in justice to him, that his later works do not
display this uncharitable feeling, but that while he still speaks as
a Protestant, he uses no language which can be offensive to a
fellow-Christian. Such being the case, we shall not dwell upon
those writings of Mr. Carleton in which he has calumniate<l the
religion and religious feelings of at least three-fourths of his
countrymen, but gladly turn to those other works in which he
displays brilliant talent, and strong natural feeling. Yes, won-
derful as it is to ascribe such feeling to an Irish Conserratire^
Mr. Carleton is in heart and soul an Irishman,— thoroughly un-
derstands, and heartily sympathizes with, the faults, the virtues,
the joys and sorrows, of his countrymen. So much is this the
case, and so fearlessly does he reprobate the heartlessness of
Irish landlords, that our only wonder is, that the party to which
he belongs, who are noted for nothing more than their contempt
and dislike of the country of their birth, and the people from
whom they derive their subsistence, should so long have endured
him amongst them ; and we are quite sure that they would not
have done so, but for the paucity of talent which their ranks
present, on which account they caimot afford to lose the services
of a man of undoubted genius. The earlier works of Mr.
Carleton, besides the more serious faults at whiph we have
glanced, had the minor defects of want of arrangement of story,

1888.] Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. S$5

and ofcrudencss and extravagance of style. Amongst them, how-
ever, the Three Tasks, Shane Faah's Wedding, and iMrry M^Fai-
land's Wake., may be noted as favourable specimens, although not
undisfigured by misrepresentation, and by occasioniil exaggera-
tion. Exaggeration, at least in the humorous part of his stories,
is our author's besetting sin ; indeed, we think he possesses but
little real humour, and generally fails when he attempts to be
funny ; but to make amends for his deficiency in this respect, he
is almost uneoualled in the pathetic parts. — No one has so well
sounded the clepths of the Irish heart; no one so admirably
pourtrays its kmder and nobler feelings. We shall give a
specimen of our author's very best style, from the Poor Scholar,
and another from Tnbber Derg ; after which we must unwillinnjly
take our leave of Mr. Carleton, although there are several of nis
tales, in particular The Donegh, and The Midnight Mass, which
we should have wished to examine, had time permitted. In the
first of the following extracts, the Poor Scholar is about to leave
his parents to endeavour to procure education for the church —
his mother watches him while asleep :

" * There you lie,' she softly sobbed out in Irish, ' the sweet pulse of
your mother's heart, the flower of our flock, the pride of our eyes, and
the music of our hearth ! Jemniy» avourneen machree, an' how can I
part with you, my darlin' son I Sure, when I look at your mild face,
and think that you're taking the worid on your head to rise us out of
our poverty, isn't my heart breaking I A lonely house well have
after you, acuxhla. Going out or coming in, at home or abroad, your
voice won't be in my ears, nor your eye smiling upon me ! And then
to think of what you may suffer in a strange land I If your head
aches, on what tender breast will it lie, or who will bind the ribbon of
comfort round it, or wipe your fair, mild brow in sickness ? Oh I
Blessed Mother, hunger, sickness, and sorrow, may come upon you,
when you'll be far from your own and from them that love you I' . . .
At this moment his father, who probably suspected the cause of her
absence, came in, and perceived her distress. ' Vara,' (Mary) he said,
in Irish also, * is my darling son asleep ?' She looked up with streaming
eyes as he spoke, and replied to him with difficulty, whilst she in-
voluntarily held over the candle to gratify the father's heart with a
sight of him. ' I was keeping him before my eye,' she said ; ' God
knows hut it may be the last night well ever see him undher our own
roof. Dominick achorra, I doubt if I can part with him from my
heart.'

" ' Then how can I, Vara,' he replied. * Wasn't he my right hand
in everything ? When was he from me, ever since he took a man's
work upon him ? And when he'd finish his own task for the day, how
kindly he'd begin and help me with mine I No, Vara, it goes to my

536 Iruth Novels and Irish NovelusU. [April

he^ to let him go away upon such a plan, and I wish he hadn't taken
tj^e notion into his head at all.'

" ' It's not too late, may be,' said the mother. * I think it wouldn't
be hard to put him off it ; the cratur's heart's failing him to leave us ;
he has sorrow upon his face where he lies.' The father looked at the
expression of affectionate melancholy which shaded his features as he
slept; and the perception of the boys internal struggle against his own
domestic attachments, powerfully touched his heart. ' Vara,' he said,
♦ I know the boy ; he won't give it up ; and 'twould be a pity — may be
a sin — to put him from it. Let the child get fair play, and try his
course. If he fails, he can come back to us ; and our arms and hearts
will be open to welcome him I But if God prospers him, wouldn't it
be a blessing that we never expected, to see him in the M'hite robes,
celebrating one mass for his parents? If these ould eyes could see
that, I would be contented to close them in pace and happiness for
ever!' * And well you'd become them I avourneen machree ! Well
would your mild, handsome countenance look, with the long heavenly
stole of innocence upon you ! and although it's eating into my heart,
I'll bear it for the sake of seein' the same blessed sight ! Look at that
face, Dominick ; mightn't many a lord of the land be proud to have
such a son ! May the heavens shower down its blessing upon him I'
The father burst into tears. ' It is, it is,' said he. ' It's the face that
would make many a noble heart proud to look at it ! Is it any wonder,
then, it would cut our hearts to have it taken from afore our eyes ?
Come away. Vara, come away, or I'll not be able to part with it It is
the lovely face, and kind is the heart of my darling child 1' As he
spoke, he stooped down and kissed the youth's cheek, on which the
warm tears of affection fell soft as the dew from heaven." — vol. i.
pp. 97-100.

The Poor Scholar abounds in passages of equal, if not of
superior beauty, and is a most interesting and higlily finished
story. We must, however, turn from it to Tubber Derg^ and
being limited to one extract, give (at random, almost) the going
forth of Owen M'Carthy and family to beg.

" Heavy and black was his heart, to use the strong expression of the
people, on the bitter morning when he set out to encounter the dismal
task of seeking alms in order to keep life in himself and his family.
The plan was devised on the foregoing night ; but to no mortal, except
his wife, was it communicated. The honest pride of a man whose
mind was above committing a mean action, would not permit liim to
reveal what he considered the first stain that was ever known to rest
upon the name of M'Carthy. He, therefore, sallied out under the
beating of the storm, and proceeded, without caring much whither he
went, until he got considerably beyond the bounds of his own parish.

" In the meantime hunger pressed keenly upon him and them.
The day had no appearance of clearing up, the heavy rain and sleet

1888.] Irish Notelx and Ir'ush NoreUits. 557

beat into their thin worn garments, and the clamour of the children for
food began to grow more and more importunate. They came to the
shelter of a hedge, which enclosed on one side a remote and broken
road, along which, to avoid the risk of being recognized, they had
preferred travelling. Owen stood here for a few minutes to consult
with his wife as to where and when they should * make a beginning,'
but on looking around he found her in tears.

" • Kathleen, asthore,' said he, ' I can't bid you not to cry; bear up,
a cushla machrce, bear up : sure, as I said this morning, there's a good
God above us that can still turn over the good leaf for us, if we put
our hopes in him.'

" ' Owen,' said his sinking wife, ' it's not altogether bekase we are
brought to this that I'm cry in'. No, indeed.'

" ' Then what ails you, Kathleen, darlin' ?'

" ' Owen, since you must know — och I may God pity us ! — it's wid
hunger I wid hunger ! I kept unknownst a little bit of bread to give
the childer this morning, an' that was part of it I gave you yesterday
early — I'm near two days' fastin'.'

" * Kathleen 1 Kathleen 1 och sure I know your worth a villich !
You were too good a wife, an' too good a mother, almost, God forgive
me, Kathleen. I fretted about beggin', dear, but as my Heavenly
Father's above me, I'm now happier to beg with you by my side, nor
if I war in the best house in the province without you ! Hould up,
avoumeen for awhile. Come on, childer, darlins, and the first house
we meet we'll ax their char — their assistance. Come on, darlins, all of
you I Why my heart's asier, so it is ! Sure we have your mother,
childer, safe wiUi us, an' what signifies anything so long as she's left to
us ?' He then raised his wife tenderly, for she had been compelled to
sit from weakness, and they bent their steps to a decent farm-house,
about a quarter of a mile before them.

" As they approached the door, the husband hesitated a moment ;
his face got paler than usual, and his lip quivered, as he said : —
• Kathleen '

•' * I know what you're going to say, Owen. No, acushla, you
won't ; /'// ax it myself.'

" ' Do,' said Owen, with difficulty ; ' I can't do it ; but I'll overcome
my pride before long, I hope. It's trjin' to me, Kathleen, an' you
know it is, for you know how little I ever expected to be brought to
this I'

" • Whisht, a villich 1 Well try, then, in the name of God 1'

" As she spoke, the children, herself, and her husband, entered, to
beg for the first time in their lives a morsel of food. Yes I timidly —
with a blush of shame, re<l even to crimson, upon the pallid features of
Kathleen — with grief acute and piercing, they entered the house
together.

*' For some minutes they stood and spoke not. The unhappy
woman, unaccustomed to the language of supplication, scarcely knew
in what terms to crave assistance. Owen, himself, stood back, wn-
covered : his fine but much changed features overcast with an exprec-

VOL. IV. — NO. VIII. 2 N

588 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

sion of deep affliction. Kathleen cast a single glance at him as if for
encouragement. Their eyes met ; she saw the upright man — the last
remnant of the M'Carthy — himself once the friend of the poor, of the
unhappy, of the afflicted, standing crushed and broken down by mis-
fortunes which he had not deserved, waiting with patience for a morsel
of charity. Owen, too, had his remembrances. He recoUected the
days when he sought and gained tlie pure and fond affections of his
Kathleen ; when beauty, and youth, and innocence, encircled her with
their light, and their grace, as she spoke or moved ; he saw her a
happy wife and mother in her own house, kind and benevolent to all
who required her good word, or her good office ; and now she was
homeless. He remembered, too, how she used to plead with himself
for the afflicted. It was but for a moment ; yet when their eyes met,
that moment was crowded by remembrances that flashed across their
minds with a keen sense of a lot so bitter and wretched as theirs.
Kathleen could not speak, although she tried ; her sobs denied her
utterance ; and Owen involuntarily sat upon a chair, and covered his
face with his hand." — pp. 406-10.

We shall conclude our review of Irish Novels with the latest
in the field — the very clever tale of Rory O^More., by Mr. Lover.
This gentleman has been long favourably known to the public
as a distinguished artist, and a poet and musician of no trifling
merit : but, although he had previously published some admirable
comic sketches of the Irish peasantry, this is his first appearance
as a novelist. We are happy to add that it is a highly successful
first appearance. Rory O More, although not possessing a story
of very deep interest, has many passages of great power ; is
written in the very best spirit ; and is full of amusing incident,
well-drawn characters, and dialogue of great point and humour.
It gives a very faithful picture of the state of Ireland just before,
and immediately after, the insurrection of 1798 — and it is im-
possible to read it without blessing Heaven that tee are fallen
upon happier days ! The hero of the novel, Rory O'More, is
an excellent impersonation of the best qualities of the Irish
peasantry — so racy is his wit — so impenetrable his good humour
— so fertile his invention — and so unimpeachable his honour and
fidelity — that whilst he amuses, he, at the same time, fills us
with affection and respect. Solomon, the tinker, is a being of a
very different order, but equally well drawn ; the incident of his
death, frightfully revolting though it be, is, we fear, the too
faithful transcript of a frequent occurrence in the guilty year
ninety-eight, rhelim O' Flanagan, the school-master, is a capital
character ; his pedantry, though quaint, is not overcharged ; and
his peculiarities, never obtruded upon our notice, are, when
occasion serves, brought forward with very comic effect. None
of the other characters require much notice. De Lacy is a

1838 ] Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. 589

mere oiiiline ; and the two heroines, Mary and Kathleen, very
beautifully and truly drawn. But Adelc de \'erbi^ny, and the
whole episode connected with her, in our opinion disfigure the
book. With the denouement we confess ourselves much pleased,
tliough we have heard many persons condemn it ; we think,
under the circumstances, De Lacy acted wisely and naturally ;
and we lay down the book, pleased widi the author for having,
(in contradiction to the common practice) given us, after passing
through scenes of grief and horror, the comfort of leaving the njost
deserving characters in a fair way for happiness. i'he chief
defect of Rory O'More is traceable to the author's exuberance
of comic talent — his wit gets the better of, and fairly runs away
with, him ; and thus the action of the story is delayed whilst his
fancy is sporting through pages of humorous digression, comic
anecdote, and pointed repartee. We can scarcely quarrel with
him for this — for it is all admirably well done, ana is just the
species of fault for which an Irishman is most pardonable. The
following is a scene where De Lacy, still weak from severe ill-
ness, finds it necessary to confide in Rory O'More, and discovers
tiiat he, too, is an United Irishman.

" * O'More,' said he at last, * shut the door. Come close to me, I
want to ask you a question, and I charge you, as you hope for salva-
tion, to answer me truly. I know I have been out of my senses, and I
suppose I talked a great deal while I was so. Now tell me honestly,
did anything remarkable strike you in my raving?'

" ' Yes, there did, sir,' said Rory, smiting at De Lacy, and looking
straight into his eyes with that honest look which honesty alone can
give. There was a soothing influence to De Lacy in the expression of
that smile and look, and a peculiar intelligence in them, that shewed
him Rory knew the drift of his question, by having fathomed the cir-
cumstances of his situation.

** ' I'm sure you guess what I am,' said De Lacy.

*• ' Shoulder arms — whoo !' said Rory, laughing.

** De Lacy smiled faintly at Rorj's mode of illustrating his knowledge.

* You are right,' said De Lacy, ' and you know I'm not a soldier of
King George.'

" Rory sang, in a low tone —

* Viva la, the French u coining —

Viva la, our friends is thrue ;

Viva la, the French is coming —

What will the poor yeomen do ?'
'* De Lacy nodded assent, and smiled, and, after a short pause, said,

* You're a sharp fellow, O'More.*

" • I've been blunt enough with you, sir.*

" ' Honest as the sun,' said De Lacy, • Now tell me, do the women
know anything about this?'

" • Not a taste ; they suspect you no more nor the child unborn ;
onlv, Mary tays— *

2n2

540 Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

" * What ?' said De Lacy, rather alarmed.

" * That you're in love, sir — beggin' your pardon.'

" ' Oh ! that's all. Well, she's right too. Why, you're a sharp fa-
mily altogether.'

" ' Divil a much sharpness in that,' said Rory. * Sure, whin there's
the laste taste o* love goin', the wind o' the word is enough for a woman.
Oh ! let them alone for findin' out the soft side of a man's heart ! — the
greatest fool o' them all is wise enough in such matters.'

" * O'More,' said De Lacy, after another pause, * you're an United
Irishman ?'

" Rory smiled. ' Now, it's you're turn to be sharp,' said he.

" * You are an united man, then ?' said De Lacy.

" ' To the core of my heart !' replied Rory, with energy.

" ' Then my mind's at ease,' said De Lacy ; and he held out his hand
to O'More, who gave his in return, and De Lacy shook it warmly.

" ' God be praised, sir I' said Rory ; ' but how does that set your
mind at aise ?'

*' ' Because you can fulfil a mission for me, Rory, that must other-
wise have failed ; — that is, if you'll undertake it.'

" ' Undhertake it! — I'd go to the four corners of the earth in a good
cause.'

" ' You're a brave fellow 1' said De Lacy.

" ' But will you tell me, sir,' said Rory, * is the French comin' in
airnest to help us?'

" ' No doubt of it, Rory — and you shall be the joyful messenger of
their coming, by doing the errand I wish for.'

" ' Oh 1 but that'll be the proud day for me, your honour !'

" ' Well, then, there's no time to lose- To-morrow I am bound by

promise to be in the town of , where an agent from France is

waiting who bears intelligence to Ireland. It is impossible for me to
go ; — now, will you undertake the duty, Rory ?'

" ' With all the veins o' my heart,' said Rory, ' and be proud into
the bargain.'

" ' Go then,' said De Lacy, ' to the town of , and there, on the

quay, there's a public house.'

" • Faith there is — and more,' said Rory.

" ' The public house I mean bears a very odd sign.'

" ' I'll be bound I know it,' said Rory, whose national impatience
could not wait for De Lacy's directions ; ' I'll engage it's the Cow and
Wheelbarrow.'

" * No,' said De Lacy, who could not help smiling at the oddness of
the combination in Rory's anticipated sign, ' it is not ; but one quite
as queer — the Cat and Bagpipes.'

" ' Oh, that's a common sign,' said Rory.

" * There are a great many queer things common in Ireland,' said
De Lacy, who, even in his present weakened state could not resist his
habitual love of remark. ' You are well acquainted, I see, with the
town,' he continued.

*' ' Indeed, and I'm not,* said Rory, * I never was there but wanst.

1838.] Irish NoveU and Irish Novelists. 541

anil that happened to be on the quay, by the same token, where I re-
marked the Cow and Wheelbarrow ; for it's a sign I never seen afore,
and is mighty noticeable.'

" ' But that is not the sign of the house you are to go to, remember.'

" • Oil, by no manes, sir ; the Cat and Bajrpipes is my niark.'

" • Yes I and there, about the hour of six in the evening, you will see
a party of three men.'

" ' But if there's two parties of three?* said Rory.

" * You can distinguish our friends by contriving, in the most natural
manner you can — 1 mean, so as not to excite observation from any but
those who will understand and reply to your signal- to say, one, two,
three, in their hearing, and if those whom I expect you to meet be there,
you will be spoken to by them, and then you must introduce into what-
ever you say to them these words. They were very fine ducks. They
will then leave the public house, and you may trust yourself to follow
wherever they lead.'

" ' Now, how am I to make sure that they are right ?' said Rory.

** ' You have my word for their being trusty,' said De Lacy.

" ' Oh, sir, sure it's not your word I'd be doubting ; but I mane, how
am I to make sure that it is the right men / spake to ?'

" ' Their noticing your remark will be sutticient ; but as a farther
assurance, they can return you the united man's signal and grip. Give
Die your hand.'

" ' That's the grip,' said Rory ; ' tare alive I ar^ the French united
Irishmen P'

" ' Not exactly,' said De Lacy, smiling; ' but the chosen know your
signs. Now I've told you all that's requisite for your mission ; when
you give those signs, they whom you meet will tell you what it is requi-
site for me to know, and you can bring me back the intelligence.'

" ' I've no time to lose, said Rory ; ' I must be off' to-morrow by the
dawn.'

" ' Will your mother or sister suspect anything from your absence ?'

" ' Why, sir, tlie thruth is, neither mother nor sisther ever questioned
me about my incomins or outgoins ; though they have, av coorse, ob-
served I was not always reg'lar, and women is sharp enough in sitch
matters; but they suspect something is going on in the counthry — how
could they help it ? But they know it is a good cause, and that they
have no business to meddle with it, and so the fewer questions they ask,
they think it is the betther. They know men must do what becomes
men ; and though .the mother and sisther loves me as well as ever a son
or a brother was loved in this wide world, they M'ould rather see me do
what a man ought to do, and die, than skulk and live undher disgrace.' "
—vol. i. pp. 163-72.

We would tlirect the earnest attention of our readers to the
two letters addressed by De I-^icy to the agent of the French
Directory. They contain a most graphic picture of the compa-
rative state of England and Ireland at that day, and clearly shew
why, while it was useleiis to think of revolutionizing the former,
the latter wab ripe and ready for any change. Although there

54S Irish Novels and Irish Novelists. [April,

is much improvement since, some of the leadinjr features in the
following extract from the letter which treats ol Ireland, still re-
main.

" In Ireland, the aristocracy seem to live wholly for themselves : the
poor they seem to consider utterly unworthy of being thought of. Look
at the English tenantry, lived amongst by their landlords, and their
comforts cared for ; while the poor Irish are left to take what care they
can of themselves. If the fever visits an English village, there is the
manor-house to apply to, whence the hand of affluence can be stretched
forth to afford the comforts which the hour of sickness demands. If
typhus rage in Ireland, there is not for miles, perhaps, the hall of a
proprietor to look to, and where there is, it is vacant : grass grows be-
fore its doors, and closed shutters say to the destitute, ' No help have
you here. My lord spends elsewhere the gold you have paid to his
agent, and his wine-cellar is not to be invaded by a pauper.' His claret
flows freely midst the laugh of revelry, but may not retard the expiring
sigh of some dying father of a helpless offspring. * Draw the cask dry
for riot I' cries the bacchanal, * and let the call of charity be echoed
back by the empty barrel I' What can such a landlord hope for from
his neglected serf? Is it to be expected that his name will be heard
with blessings, and his person looked upon with attachment, or that the
wholesome link between landlord and tenant can exist under such a
state of things ? No — they are not beings of the same community —
man and the beast of the field are not more distinct than these two
classes of people, and the time will come when the Irish landlord shall
bitterly lament that the only bond which held the peasant to his master
was his chain.' * * ' The hovels of the Irish peasantry are not by
any means so good as the stables of their masters' horses. The lord of
the soil would not let his hunter sleep in the wretched place he suffers
his tenant to dwell in, and for which he receives the rent that supports
him in his wastefulness. Nor does he seek to better their condition ;
and if a murmur of discontent escapes these ill-used people, they are
branded with the foulest names, and the guilty party seeks, by heaping
abuse and calumny on those whom he injures, to justify the conduct
which has produced the very state of things of which he complains." —
vol. ii.

Our notice of Rory O'More would be incomplete were we to
conclude it without adverting to the songs with which it is inter-
spersed, and ornamented. They all deserve the praise due to
smooth versification, grace, and playfulness — but there is one far
superior to all the rest in these qualities, and in high poetical and
national feeling — we allude to the Land of the West ; and cold
indeed must be the heart of the Irishman who can read it
unmoved, when a wanderer in other climes than the " land of his
sires !" For our own parts we confess, that (cold and stern
though in our capacity of critics we may be) tlie perusal never
fails to cause a choking sensation in the throat — an unbidden

1838.] Irish Novt-ls and Irish Novelists. 545

tear-drop in the eye-lid — wliicli all our pride and philosophv
cannot wholly suppress. In short it is a song which must be ad-
mired every where; but in Ireland it should be, and we think it
will be, rej^rded as worthy to rank with the national lyrics
which constitute Moore's best claims to immortality. In our
review of the works of Banim and Griffin, we omitted to state
that they too contain songs of great beauty, pathos, and simplicity.
We should particularize, as most worthy of admiration, the song
to AiJlee/h m John Doe, by Banim ; T7ie Child's Fetch, by the
same, in T7ie Nowlans; Old Times, in Suil Dhuv : and A place
in thy memory, in Tlie Collegians, by Griffin.

We must now conclude this brief and imperfect survey of
" Irish Novels and Novelists," feeling that we have not done
justice, either to the writings of our compatriots, or to our
admiration of their genius, and sympathy with their love of
country. We may, however, resume this subject on some future
and fitting opportunity ; — in the meantime we shall rest from our
task, happy in the thought that we have had so little to blame —
so much to praise — .md still more in the proud conviction that so
much talent is the indigenous growth of

" the land we love best,

The land of our sirea I — our own darling Westl"

Art. XI. — Summary Revieir of French and Italian Catholic
Literature, from September 1837 to March 1838.

TUEOLOGV.

Cours complet cTEcrilure sainle et de Theoloyie. This useful under-
taking, which M'o mentioned in our last summary, is to consist of six
complete courses, selected from the best authors of moral, dogmatical,
ascetic, and mystic theology, canon law, and Liturgy. The publishers
have increased the size of the volumes from 8vo. to 4to., and in many
cases have exceeded the six hundred pages originally promised ; we are
at a loss to conceive how the low price of .5/r. each volume can cover
tlie outlay incurred. The works, which are to form the course, have
been st^lected with the greatest judgment. In the five volumes on
Scripture already printed, we find the best dissertations of Huet,
Calmet, Becanus, Acosta, Jahn, Ackemian, Carricres, and Cornelius d
Lapide, besides part of the Prologomena of Walton, and an unpublished
work of Henaudot on the oriental versions of the Bible, and the anti-
quity of the sacretl books; the third volume is entirely dedicated to the
geological, chronological, and other questions, coimected with the Bible.
In the four volumes of theolopy, which have appeared, we have tne Coot-
niouitorium of St. Vincent of Lerins, the Prescriptions of Tertullian, &c.
Supplemental to this course are several other valuable works ; the Bulla'

544 French and Italian CatJiolic Literature. [April,

rium from 1758 to 1830, the Summa Theulogica of St. Thomas, Renaudot's
Perpetuite de la Foi, the works of St. Teresa, and the History of the
Council of Trent, by Pallavicini, &c. The three last-named works acquire
new value from the addition of several unpublished MSS. collected by the
editors, especially the important documents respecting the Council of
Trent, which were printed in the last Roman edition.

CoUectio Sanctorum Ecclesia Patrum. Tiiis collection is under the
patronage of the French Bishops, and the direction of the Abbe
Caillau and Monsig. Guillon. It contains select works from all the
Fathers, and has already extended to one hundred and twenty 8vo.
volumes {5fr. 60c. each) The works of St. Augustin, St. Jerome, and
St. John Chrysostom, with a few others, will be published entire ;
fifteen volumes of St. Augustin (6fr. each) have already issued
from the press, the remainder will fill from twenty to twenty-five
volumes more. Monsig. Guillon has also published a French translation
of the complete works of St. Cyprian, in two volumes 8vo. (15/r.).
M. Parent-Desbarres, the publisher of this collection, has received dis-
tinguished marks of approbation from his present Holiness, in a brief
written with his own hand, commending his zeal in undertaking the
publication of these and other works so useful to religion. M. Desbarres
has secured, after a long search, and at a great expense, the materials
collected by the Maurist monks, for the second volume of the works of
St. Gregory Nazianzen, which they were prevented from giving to
the world by the suppression of their order and the unfavourable state
of the times. The first part of the second volume has lately appeared
in Greek and Latin, under the revision of the Abbe Caillau. The same
spirited publisher has also procured from the Medici library, at Florence,
and that of Monte Cassino, a series of letters and sermons, amounting
to nearly three hundred, of the great St. Augustin. The MSS. from
which they have been printed, belong to the tenth and eleventh centuries,
and the most satisfactory evidence of their genuineness is given in the first
part of the volume, which will be issued in four parts, (each 15/r.)
The editors are M. Caillau and M. St. Yves. The edition of St.
Augustin and St. John Chrysostom, by Gaume Freres, proceeds with the
regularity and care which distinguish them. We copy the following
from a letter from Dresden, dated the 4th of December. "On
examining the MS. of the homilies of St. Chrysostom, bequeathed by
the collegiate Counsellor Matthicei to our royal library, and which, in
the opinion of the most experienced antiquaries, belongs to the tenth
century, five homilies of this great orator have been discovered, which
are unpublished, and, until the present moment, have been wholly
unknown. An exact copy of them has been sent to the senate of the
University of Leipsig, which has commissioned Dr. Becker, a distin-
guished divine, and well versed in Grecian literature, to publish them,
with a Latin translation on the opposite page. Persons who have
read over these fine homilies, assure us that they are equal, both in
substance and in composition, to the finest published works of St.
Chrysostom. *

Nouvelle Bibliofheque des Predicaleurs, by M. d'Assance, fifteen vols.

1888.] French and Italian Catholic Literature. 545

8vo. 60/r. The first ten volumes contain sermons on general subjects ;
the eleventh and twelfth, the mysteries of our Lord ; the thirteenth and
part of the fourteenth, sermons on the Blessed Virgin ; the remainder
of the fourteenth and the fifteenth, specimens, homilies, and the index to
the work.

Repertoire unirersel et analyiique de rEcriture Sainte, bjr M. de
Matalene, two vols. 8vo. IBJ'r.; 4to. 31/r. In this work is contained
the whole of the sacred text, under the heads of history, religious
belief, and morals ; the biography of the patriarchs, prophets, and chief
personages mentioned in the Bible, with the dates of their births and
deaths; the chronology of the Kings, with the concordance and parallel
passages of the Old and New Testament.

Purete du L'hristianisme, by F. Baltus, S. J., two vols. 8vo. \fr.
The object of this work is to show that the Christian religion is not
indebted to heathen philosophy for any portion of its doctrines.

Le Christianisme demontre par les traditions CalhoUques, two vols.
8vo., 10/r. This excellent work is from the pen of a young ecclesiastic,
M. de la Chadenede, whose success on various occasions, in demonstrat-
ing the trutlis of Christianity against the attacks of infidel writers, will
be increased by this effort. His object, in the present instance, has
been to show, by extracts from the works of the Fathers, how the divi-
nity of the Christian religion was established by them against the
rationalists, so to speak, of former ages ; and in these extracts from the
"writings of the early apologists are to be found refutations of the
sophisms of many modern writers. The style adopted in the translation
of these passages is concise and nervous, and the work will furnish
weapons of attack or defence against infidelity to those w hose occupa-
tions do not allow them to have recourse to the original sources.

Recherches sur la Confetsion auriculaire, by the Abbe Guillois, 1 vol.
1 8mo. The author endeavours in a series of letters to point out the
traces of auricular confession amongst the people of Greece and in
various parts of Asia ; and contends that the Jew s and Pagan nations
had been accustomed to the law of confession in their old religion, and
on this account were not inclined to murmur at its introduction by our
Saviour, amongst the precepts of religion. He then goes on to show
that by it alone remission of sins can be obtained, and demonstrates
this practice to have always subsisted in the Church, and to have been
recommended by all the fathers. Instances are adduced of many
infidels, Diderot, Montesquieu, D'Alembert, Bufttm, Voltaire, and
others, who sought to confess their sins at the hour of death. The atl-
vantages of confession have been seen by the Protestants themselves,
and its necessity has caused the precept of practising it to be retained in
the Lutheran ritual in Norway and Sweden, and in the book of Common
Prayer; and by some Protestant ministers in France ol>etlience to this
precept is still exacted. The learned author proves the necessity of
keeping the seal of confession inviolate in every instance, and remarks
that in no case has it ever been broken even by apostate priests. In the
twelfth letter th*^ different objections against confession are answere<l,
and the author concludes with expressing his conviction of the solidity

546 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [April,

of the arguments of Catholics in favour of the divine origin of the pre-
cept of auricular confession.

Le Predicateur, by M. Morel, 1 vol. I'imo. In this small volume
M. Morel has entered into an examination of the duties and qualifica-
tions of a preacher, according to the spirit of the sacred writings,
the councils, and the fathers of the church. The materials on which
the work is grounded, have been taken from the works of F. Baling-
hem, and if we have any fault to find, it is that he has followed too
closely in the footsteps of his predecessor, whose learning was more
conspicuous than his perspicuity. M. Morel writes with unction and
grace, and makes frequent use of the language of Scripture in the
course of his examination. The author, who is Vicar-general in the
diocess of Paris, has also added much from his own experience and
observation on the important subject of which he treats.

Anthologie Catholique, ou Instructions dogmatiques et morales sur
les Verites de la religion, by M. I'Abbe Huet; 2f. 75c.

Lettre sur le Saint-Siege, by the Abbe Lacordaire; 1 vol. We
regret that our limits do not allow us to offer any extracts from this
powerful and eloquent essay. It has caused a great sensation in France
and other countries ; his Holiness, Gregory XVI, received the original
manuscript from the talented author during his stay in Rome last year,
and has, on several occasions, expressed his high approbation of it.

Episcopalis sollicitudinis enchiridion ; 1 vol. 4to. Besan<;on The
pious Abelly, Bishop of Rodez, composed this manual, drawn princi-
pally from the doctrine and practice of the great model of bishops,
St. Charles Borromeo, during his retirement in the Convent of St.
Lazarus, at Paris, where he resided twenty-four years after resigning
his bishopric. This new and beautiful edition has been printed at
the suggestion of the present Archbishop of Besan^on.

Dissertatio in sextum decalogi prceceptum et supplementum ad Trac-
tatum de Matrimonio ; 1 vol. 12mo. ; by Monsig. Bouvier, Bishop of
Mans. This work is intended to supply the deficiencies of the ordinary
moral treatises on these subjects, and is meant solely for the use of
confessors and students in divinity. It is printed at Malines.

Traite dogmatique et pratique des Indulgences, ^c. ; Tournay, 1 vol.
12mo. If. 75c. In this useful book, by the same author, a complete
account is given of the doctrine and practice of the Church respecting
indulgences, confraternities, and jubilees.

Preelectiones Theologica Majores ; 2 large vols. This book contains
the lectures on the sacrament of Matrimony, by the Abbe Carriere,
vicar-general in the diocess of Paris, delivered in the seminary of St,
Sulpice. The series is divided into three parts ; the first relates to the
nature of marriage, considered as a sacrament and as a contract ; in
the second are examined the various questions on the three properties
of matrimony, its inriolability, unity, and indissolubility. The tliird
part, which is by far the most extensive, considers the conditions pre-
ceding, accompanying, Q.nd following the contract. This work may be
considered a clear, full, and complete treatise on these important points;
and although the author has been led away by too closely following the

1838.] French ami Italian Catholic Literature. 547

doctrines of a particular class of theologians, he is every way entitled to
coniniendation for the able and learned manner in which tlie work is
written.

A new series of the religious periodical, the Pragmalo<jia Catholica,
began to appear in January, under the direction of the Canon Berta-
lozzi, assisted by a numerous body of coadjutors.

The following are the principal theological works which have ap-
peared in Italy since our last notice.

The fifth volume of Do«jmalical Theology, by. F. Perrone, S.J. —
The scries of treatises, contained in this course, are : — Vol. I. De Vera
Rrligione ; II. De Deo Una et Trino ; III. De Deo Creatore ; IV. De
Incarnatione et CuUu Sanctorum ; V. De Gratia et Sacramenlis. A
reprint of this work has been commenced at Naples and at A'lgsbui^,
the latter edition being under the care of Professor Mohler, author of
the Syml>olik. Another edition is shortly to appear at Louvain. It
will probably extend to about eight volumes.

UEpiscopato, by Bolgeni. — A new edition of this extensive and
learned work is coming out at Rome. It has been corrected from the
author's manuscripts, and may be considered almost a new work.

In the eighth volume of the Collezione di Oftere di Religione, are
contained the opinions of Leibnitz in favour of the Catholic religion ;
and opinions and testimonies from the lives and works of Newton,
Clarke, Locke, Boyle, Linnasus^ Cuvier, and others, in favour of
revealed religion. In the eleventh and twelfth volumes, is republished
Ditton's work. La Religione Cristiana dimostrata c»l mezzo delta risur-
rezione di Gestt Crista.

La Religione Cristiana dimostrata per la natura de' suoi Misteri, by
Severino Fabriani, 1 vol. 8vo.

La Scienza teologica, Ceminente scienza di Gesd Crista, by G. B.
Vertua, 4 vols.

Institutiones Theologia Dogmatictt, by F. Platania, D.D., published
for the University of Catania. The first part of Vol. I has appeared.

Manuale Can/essariarum, 1 vol. publbhed for the clergy of the
diocess of Aosta.

Tractatus de Rommo Pantijice, by D. Gualco, D.D., 2 vols. Svo.
Degli Altari e delta laro cansacrazione, ^c, by Stancovich, 1
vol. 8vo.

Two courses of ecclesiastical history have been commenced at
Rome. The first is entitled, Institutiones Histarite Ecclesiastictp, by
Delsignore, late professor of ecclesiastical history at the Sapienza, or
Roman university. The text of this work is by him, and has been
published, with learned notes, by Fizzani, the present professor. The
original work is divided into four periods, and extends to the Council
of Trent ; a fifth period, bringing the history to our own times, will be
added by the editor. Each period is subdivided into the external
history, which describes the propagation of religion, and the persecu-
tions of the Church ; and the internal, which treats of the government
and hierarchy of the Church, the lives of the Popes, religious rites,
and the practises of the faithful, matters of religious belief, and eccle-

548 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [April,

siastical writers. The text contains a simple and short account of the
historical facts ; and, in the notes, the reader is enabled to pursue the
examination of any particular point, by a full reference to the principal
writers on the subject. The first part treats of the external history as
far as Constantine.

The second work, is Prmlectiones Historic Ecclesiastics, by J. B.
Palma, Professor of Ecclesiastical History in the College of the Propa-
ganda and the Roman Seminary. He proposes, first, to discuss
various controverted points down to the present time ; and his first
volume will include the principal q uestions respecting the history of
the six first centuries, such as the celebration of Easter, the time of
the birth and death of our Saviour, the discipline of the Secret, &c.
At the close of this course, which is to consist of four 8vo. volumes,
he will publish a connected history of the leading events.

Professor Tizzani has likewise announced another work to appear in
monthly parts, and to be entitled, Thesaurus Historic Ecclesiastictr.
It is to resemble the splendid collections of dissertations made by
Ugolini on sacred, and of Graevius and Gronovius on Grecian and
Roman antiquities, &c., and will comprehend many valuable disserta-
tions connected with the history of the Church, by Mamachi, Ballerini,
Lermond, Ruinart, and others, whose works are now become extremely
rare. Several unpublished works will be added to the collection,
which will be divided into periods corresponding to the editor's his-
torical course, each of which will contain about forty dissertations
selected from the most approved authors.

A new edition of Cardinal Orsi's Sloria Ecclesiastica is in course of
publication at Rome, in -ito. and 8vo.

In the eleventh and twelfth volumes of the Biblioteca di Opere di
Religione, are reprinted the Fiori di Storia Ecclesiastica, by Cesari,
whose Trionfo de Marliri is also published in a separate form.

Storia Evangelica, by F. Finetti, S.J. is just completed at Rome, in
4 vols.

Storia del Papa Pio VII, by Artaud, 2 vols.

Besides ttie last mentioned, several other biographical works have
been announced.

Abrege de I'Histoire de la Religion CathoUque depuis la Creation
jusqu'ci nos jours; 3 vols. lO/V. By the Countess de Semalle.

Biografia delta Vita di Gesii Crista e de' suoi Sanii, in 18 vols.

Memorie inforno al martirio e culto di S. Filomena, V.M., with an
account of the finding and translation of her relics, by F. Gatteschi,
1 vol. 18mo.

An Italian translation of the Life of S. Elizabeth, by the Comte de
Montalembert, has been published at Vienna by Negrelli. Three
German translations have appeared at Leipsig, Munich, and Aix-la-
Chapelle.

The spiritual works are chiefly :

A complete collection of ascetic works (OpuscoU ascetici) is to be
published at Rome. The first number of it contains ihk explanation
of the Our Father, by Father Segneri, S.J. Many spiritual works,

18SB.] French and Italian Catholic Literature. 549

now out of print, will be placed within tlie reach uf all by means of
this neat and useful collection, which will appear in monthly parts, at
an expense of letts than seven francs annuallV'

Ahho Ecclesiatlico, familiar instructiGns on the mysteries and feasts,
by G. D. Boriglioni, 4- vols. 12mo.

Orazioni Quaresimali, by Barbieri, 8vo. and 12mo.

Prediche Qiiaresimali, by G. B. Bono.

Orazioni sacri, by F. Calvi, 1 vol.

Letture smriluali for every day of Lent, according to the Ambrosian
rite, by E. Viseonti, 8vo.

Collectio selecla Sanctorum Ecclesia Patrum. The first part of the
21st volume (8vo.) contains the works of St. John Chrysostom.

Bibliotfca clissica de Maori oratori, Greci, Latini, Italiani, Francesi,
antichi e recrnti, 8vo.

Lettera didascalica ad un predicalore norello, on the method and
composition of sermons and catechetical instructions, by A. da Fa-
en za, 8vo.

Operette Spirituali, by Cardinal Lambruschini, Secretary of State to
Lis present Holiness, 2 vols. 18mo.

Two volumes of poems by Silvio Pellico, attest the deep religious
feelings of their author, his love towards the place of his birth, and his
recollections of the friends of his captivity. The first volume contains
about forty short poems; the second consists of seven longer pieces : —
none of them before published.

We take this opportunity of mentioning that the Papal Government
has published a ])lain and unvarnished account of the cau^^ and cir^
cumstances connected with the affairs of the Archbishop of Cologne
and the Catholic Church in Prussia, and corroborated by the original
documents which have passed between the two Governments. We
forbear entering at any length into this question at present ; as we
have already treated of it in a former numi)er, we reserve our farther
observations for a more convenient opportunity.*

It would be unfair to pass over two important works which do
honour to the enterprising spirit and learning of their publishers.
The first is the new Antiquarian and Topographical Dictionary of the
Environ* of Rome, by Professor Nibby. Besides a learned and com-
plete account of every spot famous in the classics or in histor>', this
work will be enriched by an extensive map of the whole territory,'.
The other work to which we allude, is the magnificent edition of
Vitruvius, published last year, by the Marchese Marini, in four folio
volumes. The text has been restored by a careful comparison of the
the most accurate editions, whose various readings are also given, and
learned notes have been added. The execution and getting up of the
work are admirable ; and the greatest attention has been ])aid to its
correctness. A splendid copy of it was prepared for his late Majesty
William IV, but his death prevented its being forwarded to London.

* The papers announce, that the Adniioistrator of the Dioceaa of Cologne, and
seTeral members of the chapter, have resigned their offices in obedience to his
Holiness.

550 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [April,

We are happy to find that the Mechitarist congregation at Venice
continues its labours of translating and publishing various works in the
Armenian and Turkish languages. Amongst the latter, we find
Young's Xight Thoughts, translated by Baron Ereniian, interpreter to
the King of Denmark at Constantinople; and amongst the former, the
works of St. Ephrera, in four 8vo. volumes ; the Rules of Christian
Living, by F. Quadrupani, translated from the Italian, by Father G.
B. Aucher; a. History of Russia, by F. Aivazovsk, besides two Dic-
tionaries, one of Armenian and English, and the other of Italian and
Armenian, and vice versa. Likewise, the Preces Sti. JSTerselis Clajemis,
in twenty-four languages.

Cardinal Mai has in the press another volume of his Scriptorum
Veterum nova Collectio. We understand that the very Rev. Dr. Wise-
man will shortly forward for publication his answer to the Rev. Dr.
Turton's attacks on his work on the Eucharist The Rev. Dr. Baggs,
Vice-Rector of the English College, is preparing for the press a course
of Lectures on the Holy Week, delivered by him before an English
audience in Rome. It will be published in the same form as his pre-
ceding works, viz. his Letter to the Rev. R. Burgess, late Protestant
Chaplain at Rome, in answer to that gentleman's various publications
against Catholics ; and his learned Discourse on the Supremacy of the
Roman Pontiffs, in the appendix to which he has taken an opportunity
of completely and triumphantly refuting the principal objections of
Mr. Blunt (Lectures on Peter) and other Protestant writers against
the dogma which he so ably establishes. Of both these works, an
Italian translation in one volume has been published by Garofolini.

PHILOSOPHY.

Malebranche ; 2 vols. 4to. 20fr. A new edition of the works of
this eminent and devout Father has been much wanted in France.
The present one appears under the revision of M. de Genoude and
M. de Lourdoueix, whose previous reputation induces to hope much
from their talents in the present instance.

Defense de FOrdre Social, by the Abbe Boyer. The object of this
book is to establish the real principles of social order, on the basis of
religion, against the attacks of modern atheists. The author points
out the disorders produced by the various revolutions in France, and
the evils which have resulted from the principles of irreligion and
impiety infused by them into the order of society ; and shows that
by religion alone these disorders have been arrested, and society
restored to its proper condition. We have not space to insert his
ingenious comparison between the Revolutions in France and England,
and between the characters of Charles I and Louis XVI.

We are glad to find that the first fruits of the Catholic University,
at Louvaine, are beginning to appear, in the publications of its pro-
fessors. M. Ubaghs, the Professor of Philosophy, is preparing an
improved edition of his Traite de Logique ; and M. de Cock, the Vice
Rector of the University, has lately published a treatise on Moral
Philosophy.

f838.]

French and Italian Catholic lAterature* 55\

Examen du Magnetisme Animal. The virtuous author of this work,
the Abbe Fnrre, has spent twenty years in the study of natural phi-
losophy, as connected with religion. In the present work, he under-
takes to demonstrate, by philosophical arguments, how weak and
destitute of foundation are all the conclusions of modern rationalists,
who have so vainly endeavoured to explain away the miracles of our
Saviour and the saints, and the supernaturtil workings of nature, by
supposing them to have been produced by means of animal magnetism
or artificial somnambulism. In the course of his investigation, he
examini>s different objections raise<l by the advei-saries of Christianity,
by comparing the prophecies of our Saviour and the saints with
the prophecies of the ancient oracles.

These discussions occupy the first part of the work ; in the second,
M. Frere conniders the advantages to morality and science which may
arise from any future discoveries of magnetism, and he concludes, that,
without producing any useful results in a scientific point of view, it
will be highly injurious to morality, as even the greatest admirers of it
are obliged to allow.

Liberte et Traeail. The object of this book is to explain a system
for the abolition of slavery', without exposing the slave-colonies to the
consequences which might result from too sudden a transition from a
state of complete subjugation of the working classes, to unfettered
freedom. Its author, M. Hardy, director of the seminary of St. Esprit,
has spent much of his life in America, and has already published
another smaller work on the abolition of slavery in the French colonies.
The present publication merits the attention of the public, on account of
the long exp<'rience of the author, and his personal observations on the
state of the slaves. His chief conclusions may be summed up in a few
words. He is of opinion that slavery must be abolished, and that it is
the duty of all to endeavour to effect this grand object ; a total and
immediate abolition is impossible, on account of the many disastrous and
fatal consequences which would attend it. The abolition, therefore,
ought to be progressive ; before the slaves can receive their freedom,
they are to be rendered worthy of possessing it. This necessary work
can be performed by the Catholic religion and its ministers only. They
will instruct them in the duties they owe to their families, and in the
real advantages and comforts which may be derived from performing
them; they will teach them how to overcome the brutal passions to
which they are subject, and to stifle the ardent desire of vengeance,
whose embers frequently live so long smouldering and concealed in
their breasts ; they will show them the infinite distance that separates
freedom and licentiousness ; they will make them understand that pro-
perty is sacred, and that labour is a law imposed by Almighty God on
all men. M. Hardy then explains the practical part of his plan, and
points out the system of e<lucation and of religious instruction most
suited to bring al>out this gradual abolition of slaver)', by a previous
and preparatory amelioration of their religious and social condition.

Tableau Chronohgique de niittoire UniverseUe. M. Ferrand, tlie
author of this work, has endeavoured to fix the chronology of ancient

552 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [Apri),

and modern history according to a standard by which the historical
records of the scripture history may be reconciled with those of pro-
fane writers. Instead of choosing the epoch of the Creation as a fixed
point from which the chronology of different nations is to be calculated,
he has taken the commonly received date of the birth of our Saviour,
as being more generally known, and less disputed, than the former.
From this epoch, he mounts by successive stages to the time of the
Creation. He places the Deluge in the year 3345 B.C., and has shown
that this date harmonizes better than any other with the chronology of
ancient nations. His solutions of the difficulties in the chronology of
China, in which he follows the list of dynasties according to Father
Gaubil's treatise on Chinese chronology, and M. Panthier's history of
China, are curious, and learned, though we confess that much weight
cannot be attached to them. In Egyptian chronology, he has followed
the general opinion, that the first fourteen dynasties reigned simulta-
neously ; but has given the whole series of the succeeding ones from
the year 2300 b.c. This list he has taken from Manetho, and has
confirmed its authority by a skilful use of the recent labours of
Letronne, Champollion, and Rosellini. Chronologists disagree in
fixing the epochs of Assyrian history, as well as the number of kings,
and the duration of their reigns. M. Ferrand hazards a new system,
drawn from Julius Africanus ; and by restoring the four kings who
reigned before Teutames, and who are omitted by Eusebius, he fixes,
with Ctesias, the downfall of Sardanapalus in the year 900 B.C. This
hypothesis is supported by its happy synchronism with several epochs
in other histories, and by the strong reeisons adduced by M. Ferrand.
Thus, for instance, Teutames reigns at the time of the Trojan war;
Ninus, the contemporary of Abraham, comes about one thousand years
earlier; and Belus conquers Babylon in the very year in which the
traditions contained in the Chah-Nameh represent the descendants of
the Djemchid to have been expelled from it. In other points,
M. Ferrand adopts the chronology of preceding writers, and inserts
them in his plan. The chronology of Persian history is given from
thie Chah-Nameh, published by Klaproth ; in that of Lydia, Troy, and
Phrygia, he copies the lists of Freret, but deducts ten years from
them, placing the taking of Troy in 1270 instead of 1280; for that of
the states of Greece, the system of Larcher, corrected from the recent
discoveries of Raoul-Rochette, Petit, Radel, and others ; in Roman
history, he follows the Art de verifier les Dates; for Armenian history,
he has recourse to M. H. Martin ; and for Egyptian history under the
Ptolomies, Champollion and Letronne. The plates of this useful and
learned work are well executed, and the work itself, in every point of
view, deserves the fullest commendation.

Dictionnaire des Dates, by M.M. Rouaix and A. D'Harmonville ;
1 vol. 4to. 24/r.

Histoire du Moyen Age. This is another work from the University
of Louvaine, and is highly creditable to its author, M. Moeller. It
embraces the history of the Middle Ages, from the fall of the Western
Empire to the death of Charlemagne.

1888.] French and Italian Catholic Literature. 55S

We observe with pleasure that translations have appeared of several
hintorical works publishe<l in Germany, which have already been
serviceable to the cause of religion and truth ; we allude to a series
of historical and biographical works written in defence of the Popes
who governed the Church during the middle ages, by Protestant
authors. Besides those we mention at present, the Abbe Axinger has
announced a French translation of the Life of Sylvester II, by M.
Hocke, which has l)ecn very favourably received in Germany. Histoire
du Pape Gregoire VII, et de son Steele, by Voigt; 2 vols. 8vo. 12/r.
Histoire dinnocent ///, et de ses Contemporains, by Hurter, translated
by Haiber and St. Cheron ; *2 vols. 8vo. These two works are indis-
pensable to ever)' one who wishes to form an impartial opinion respect-
ing the influence of the Popes in the affairs of Europe ; and the latter
is particularly interesting to the English reader, as it enters fully into
the history of the disputes between Innocent III and King John, and
completely refutes the calumnies usually asserte<l, and believed, with
regard to the character and d(>signs of the former.

Histoire abregee de la Religion C'kretienne, by Noirlieu. The author
of this abridgement has published several books for the use of young
persons, and the present one may be safely recommended as a short but
complete account of the history of the Church from the time of our
Saviour to the present century, and as written in a manner excellently
calculated to impress the leading events on the mind, and instil an early
interest in the study of the history of religion.

Histoire de In Mere de Dieu, by the Abbe Orsini. This work may
be divided into two parts ; in the first is contained the life of the
Blessed Virgin, in which the learned author has supplied from the
writings of the Fathers, and the apocryphal lives of the Blessed Virgin,
an ideal lif(? of the Mother of Go<l, illustrating, by its simplicity, the
affectionate devotion with which the secret and untold mysteries of her
life have been contemplated in all ages ; the second part contains a
clear and interesting account of the history of the devotion towards the
Blessed Virgin from the period of her death to the present time.

Vie de la tres sainte Vierge, 1 vol. 12mo. 75c, by the Princess of
Craon. This life is extracted from the Gospels alone.

Histoire de Charles-le-Bon, comte de Flandre, 1 vol. 8vo. Sf. 50c.
Translated from the life of St. Charles by the BoUandists Bruges.

Histoire des Saints d Alsace, by M. Hunkler.

La vie dun bon Pretre, I vol. 12mo. 2/". 5i)c. by M. d'Amboi.se.

Vie du Cardinal Chevents, Arch^veque de Botirdeaux, by M. Dubourg.

Vie de quelques Uienf'aiteurs de niumanite. This volume is pub-
lished by the Societe Bibliographique, whose successive publications,
too numerous to be always noticed, evince the decided return which
has taken place, in French literature, to studies of a truly Catholic
nature. The preface contains a summary of the chief motives which
have, since the establishment of Christianity, guided the noble-minded
men, whose lives the work contains, in their various foundations, (all of
them inspired by a spirit of divine charity) to relieve and support the
poor and the afflicted.

VOL. IV. — NO. viii. 2 o

554 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [April,

Monumens de UHistoire de Ste. Elizabeth. The Count de Mont-
alembert, while collecting the materials for his beautiful life of St.
Elizabeth, took opportunities of selecting the most ancient as well as
the best works of art, connected with the actions of the Saint. At the
same time, he engaged the co-operation of the illustrious Overbeck, of
Miiller, and of Hatze, who have furnished a series of designs on the
same subjects, worthy of the rising school of German Catholic art. M.
Schwanthaler, who is at the head of the Catholic school of sculpture at
Munich, has represented the life of the Saint in a series of basreliefs.
Other drawings have been made by M. Hauser, a young German art-
ist, who, since the age of fourteen, has, like the Count de Montalembert,
devoted the chief portion of his time to the study and contemplation of
the life and virtues of St. Elizabeth The same subject occupied the
pencil of the saintly Fra Angelico da Fiesole, and other ancient mas-
ters. Their paintings will be engraved in the present collection, a few
parts of which have already been published. Each part contains three
plates on China paper, and the collection will extend to about thirty
engravings. We take this opportunity of mentioning that a correct and
well-executed engraving^of the portrait of the Archbishop of Cologne
has been issued by the publishers of the Unirers, (Rue du Fosse St.
Jacques, Paris). They announce a series of portraits of the ecclesiastics
who have been distinguished for their conscientious defence of religion.

This leads us to the late publication on the affairs of the diocese of
Cologne, by the celebrated Gorres. This work is entitled Athanasius,
and it was received with such eagerness in Germany, that five thousand
copies of the first edition disappeared in four days. It has been trans-
lated into French under the eyes of the author. We cannot here
enter into any examination of ite merits ; suffice it to say, that the sen-
sation produced by it in Germany is far from favourable to the I*russian
government, which may again fear the power of that master-mind, who,
thirty years ago, was styled by Buonaparte " the fifth European power,"
and whose productions have before now rendered him an object of dread
as well as persecution to the government whose proceedings are cen-
sured in the present essay.

Literature, Poetrv, and Books of Devotion.

Les eglises Gothiques, 1 vol. 8vo. The object of this elegant work is
to engage public attention and interest towards the study and preserva-
tion of the Gothic Cathedrals of France, and the venerable monuments
which adorn them. A similar appeal might be made in favour of our
own cathedrals, and remarks equally severe might be applied to those
in both countries who sufl^er these memorials of ancient faith to fall .to
ruin by neglect, or who mar their beauty by ill-judged and unsuitable
restorations and additions. At every page of this eloquent exposition
of the beauty and great principles of art, displayed in the works of the
middle ages, and of the wretched and tasteless changes of modern times,
we are reminded of the " Contrasts" to be found at home, and are in-
duced to hope that the exertions of men of taste and judgment will lead
to happy results. We extract the following passage on sepulchral
monuments: —

1888.] French and Italian Catholic Literature. 555

<* The Btatesinan ought to deplore, no lew than the churchman, the
disappearance of those sepulchral monuments so full of instruction and
recollections ; and tiie destruction of those tuniulary pavements, which
were tnidden on with pious dread. These emblems of death reminde<l
the faithful that Christianity arose from a tomb to undertake the con-
quest of the universe, and that its early worship and first initiations
were confined to the silence of its tombs. Every one of these monu-
ments seemed to cry out with a voice of sadness, " Remember, man,
that thou art dust 1" The people, who saw beneath their feet the
images of those who, in their lifetime, had walktnl above their heads,
were better able to understand that a day approaches, when the power-
ful and the poor, sIumlH>ring alike in dust, shall be distinguished only
by their deeds. They learned thus to bear their lot, to lay aside their
hatred in this consideration, and even the richness of the lordly monu-
ments, which were ranged beside their own humble remains, served
only to render the lesson still more striking."

Let Eglises de Parin, 50c. This small publication professes to
describe the churches of Paris under a religious jwint of view, as well
as with regard to their being works of art. The latter portion of it
has been composed by M. de Rouviere, a civil engineer, with the
assistance, for the former department, of Mr. O'Clark, formerly pro-
fessor of theology at Dublin. The profits arising from it are to be
applied to the missions in China and America.

Choix tie Ijfttres edifiantrs, W vols. 8vo. 30/*.

Colonie Vhretieiine, by M. Sabatier, (plates) 1 vol. 12mo. %f. 50c.

TableaiLV des Catacoinbes, 1 vol. 12mo. (plates) 2/". 2.5r., by M.
Raoul-Rochettc. We have spoken, in a former Number, of the accu-
racy of this writer un Christian art, and need not describe the merits
of the present sketches of the catacombs at any greater length.

Meditalions lifUgieuses, and Regrets et Consolations^ by M. d'Exau-
villez, each 1 vol. IHmo.

Volberg, 1 vol. 8vo. M. Pecontal traces in this poem the triumph of
religion over the struggles of human passions and desires, in the mind
of Volberg, who, perplexed in his searches after truth, determines to
commit suicide. His rash design is prevented, and he seeks for truth
amongst the philosophers of ancient and modern times. At length, he
meets with an aged priest., who leads him to the knowledge of it, which
he hesitates to embrace, until overcome by the entreaties of a young
friend, to whom he has been strongly attached, and who implores him,
when at the point of d(>ath, to follow its light : he promises, as his friend
expires, to yield up his rea*«un to the truth of Christianity.

Prismes Poetiqnes, by Count Jules de Ressegnier. These poems are
chiefly on serious subjects, and contain nmny lieauties both in expres-
sion and sentiment, and breathe a spirit of religious feeling and devo-
tion.

Leltres a un Cure sur Ceducation du Peuple. M. Laurentie, the
author of these letters, brings to his inquiry on the subject of education
the aid of much experience, as well as of sound and enlarged views.
He bases all his system on a mutual union of religion and education.

556 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [April,

and shows that no education can be perfect which attempts to form the
mind by the light of human instruction without the influence of reli-
gion. He points out many fundamental errors in the present system,
and suggests the remedies best adapted for them.

Prascovie, on la piele filiale, le Livre des Veilees, le Fermier aveugle, ou
la recompense du travaiU M. Daucourt et son Jils, ou tabus et le bon
usage du talent, are small but useful publications, calculated to enforce,
by examples, the practice of virtue by young persons.

Facsimiles of MSS. from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries, of the
Pater, Ave, Credo, &c. Of. each. Imitation of Gothic MSS. 2/.

Amongst the books of devotion, which are very numerous, we per-
ceive the following : —

Inspirations d'une Ame Chretienne an sacrifice de la Messe, 2f. 50c.
These prayers are taken from a MS. of a princess royal who lived in
the fourteenth century. Devotions pratiques aux sept principaux mys-
ieres douleureux de la Mere de Dieu, 2f. 75c. Limitation de Jesus
Christ, 8f. This beautiful edition is published by M. de Genoude ; it
has been reprinted at Malines. Another edition in seven languages
has been published, with notes respecting the author, at Ratisbon ; and
a translation of the first book of it into Hebrew, has been published by
Professor Miiller of Strasbourg, — in the neighbourhood of which city
many Jewish families are estabUshed, for whose use it is chiefly in-
tended.

The Universite Catholique for December, 1837, contains : —

1. Religion considered in its principles and in its connexion with
the different branches of science. Lecture VI. By the Abbe de
Salinis.

2. History of France. Lecture VIII. By M. Dumont.

3. Astronomy. Lecture III. By M. Desdouits.

4. Sacred and profane music. Lecture IX. By M. d'Ortigue.

5. Monumental history of the early Christians. Lecture X. By M.
Cyprien Robert.

6. Reviews of various works republished by M. de Genoude. — On
the favourable circumstances of, and on the chief obstacles to, the pro-
pagation of Christianity, by the Abbe Doellinger. — Christ devant le
siecle, by Roselly de Lorgues. — Analysis of the Lectures on the origin
of the Chaldeans, delivered at the Sorbonne, by M. le Normand.

7. Notices of new books. Index to the four first volumes.
The number for January, 1838, contains: —

1. Introduction to the study of the truths of Christianity. Lecture
IX. By the Abbe Gerbet.

2. Political Economy, Continuation of Lecture XIII. By Viscount
Villeneuve de Bargemont.

3. Astronomy. Lecture IV. By M. Desdouits.

4. General history of Hebrew literature. Lecture V. By M. de
Cazales.

5. Review. — Prselectiones Theologicae de Matrimonio, by the Abbe
Carrieres. — On the present state of religious art in France, by Count
de Montalembert.

6. Notices of new books.

1888.] French and Italian Catholic Uterature. 557

The contents of the number for February are :

1. Political Economy. Lecture XIV.

2. Astronomy. Lecture V.

3. Monumental History of the early Christians. Lecture XI.
4>. History of Christian poetrj'. Lecture H. By M. Douhaire.

5. Review. — The state of the Catholics in Prussia. — Memoir on
Syriac literature, by M. Eugene Bore.— Life of Balzac, by Moreau. —
Announcement of a series of reviews of the principal German works
connected with religion or ecclesiastical history, to be published in the
Univertite.

It may not be uninteresting to many of our readers to hear of such
musical publications as appear on the continent, and may be useful in
religious worship. We shall, therefore, mention such as have come to
our knowledge.

The Slabat Mater, for three voices, treble, tenor, and bass, with
accompaniment for the organ or piano, by Pietro Ravalli of St. Peter's
Basilica, dedicated to the Rev. Dr. Wiseman; Rome, 1837. The
works of this young composer are publishing in Paris, and the com-
position here mentioned is full of expression, and admirably suited for
small choirs.

Saggio Storico, teorico pratico del Canto Gregoriano. By Father
Alfieri, 4to. Rome, 1835. The first part of this work contains a simple
but complete system of the Gregorian chaunt. The second gives the
tones, verses, &c., as well as the manner of singing the epistle, gospel,
collects, little chapters, &c., as practised in Rome, particularly in the
basilicas and papal chapel. It is much the best work we know upon
this subject.

Cnntus Gregorinnus in Purijicationis B. Marite Virginis, et Palmarum
Procession! bus, collectus et emendatus, 4to. Edited by same author.

Padre Alfieri has also ready for publication the following.

1. Cantus Gregorinnus Passiouis Domini Nostri Jesii Chrisfi. The
four Passions, as sung in the office of Holy Week, arranged in three
folio volumes, each containing the entire text, but the musical notes
for only the part which one of the three chaunters has to sing. By
this arrangement much confusion and occasional mistakes are avoided.
The splendid chaunt of the Passions, which is very ancient, was re-
formed, with the rest of the Gregorian music, by John Guidetti, the
friend of Palestrina, by command of the Holy See. Besides several
unaccountable errors in the musical arrangements, this work is clogged
with many superfiuous notes, and has the text anterior to the two last
corrections of the Missal. It is, moreover, now extremely rare. All the
corrections made for the forthcoming edition?, besides being based
upon ancient manuscripts, and the practice of the papal chapel, have
been submitted to the sound judgment of the eminent D. Giuseppe
Baini, the biographer of Palestrina, and present director of the pon-
tifical choir. A very small number of subscribers is now wanting to
bring this work to press, so as to be ready for delivery in time for next
Lent. Price about ten shillings.

558 French and Italian Catholic Literature. [April,

2. Directorium Chori juxta ritum S. R. Ecclesia a Joanne Guidetto
olim edito.

Another collection of Church music will soon appear in numbers.
The first, to be published on the 2nd of November, will contain Pales-
trina's celebrated Missa Papa MarceUi, as reduced by himself from
eight to six parts. This magnificent composition saved Church music
in part from total abolition, having received the perfect approbation of
St. Charles Borromeo, appointed to decide on the great composer's
efforts to produce music worthy of God's house. Besides this, the
first number will contain the same composer's celebrated motett,
" Fratres," and Burroni's " Credidi," performed in St. Peter's on that
apostle's festival. The collection will present none but masterpieces,
chiefly of the old school, and mostly inedited.

MISCELLANEOUS INTELLIGENCE.

THE EARL MARSHALL AND THE CORONATION.

It is not true, as currently reported, that the Office of Chief
Butler at the approaching Coronation devolves, or will on any
future occasion devolve, upon the Duke of Newcastle, in right
of the purchase of the Property and Manor of Worksop.

The Office of Chief Butler is vested in the Property and
Manor of Kenning-hnll, which the Duke of Norfolk retains ;
and it is in right of this Office that the Dukes of Norfolk receive
after the Banquet the gold cup and ewer used on that occasion,
and which form the most substantial appendage and memorial of
having served the office. The only privilege attached to the
Manor of Worksop itself, and which has been confounded with
the other, is— that the Manor of Worksop is held by the service
of finding gloves for the Sovereign at any Coronation, which
service and right will be transferred to the purchaser of Worksop
on the completion of the sale ; but will be exercised by the
present owner — Bernard Edward, Duke of Norfolk, at the
approaching Coronation of her Majesty Queen Victoria.

Rome. — On Sunday, the 22nd of December, in the Basilica of
St. Peter's, was celebrated the beatification of the venerable servant of
God, John Massias, of the order of St Dominic. The cardinals,
prelates, and consultors of the congregation of the Rites of God, was
read by Monsig. Falati, secretary of the Congregation. Tavo miracles
performed by his intercession were represented on each side of his
statue, which was splendidly illuminated. A solemn high mass was
sung in his honour, and in the afternoon, his Holiness, accompanied
by the cardinals, proceeded to St. Peter's, where, aftes adoring the
blessed Sacrament, he prayed for some time before the picture of the
holy man.

18S8.] Miscellaneous Intelligence. 559

Od the following Sunday, the beatification of B. Martin de Porres
was celebratPtl with the same pouip. On each occasion, a short
address uas« delivered by thi* general of the Dominicians, to which
order both of the holy men belonged.

On Christmas Day, the Pope wrnt in procession and celebratetl high
mass in St. Peter's. On St. Stephen's Day, his Holiness assisted at
the high mas<> performed in the Sistine Chapel, on which occasion a
Latin discourse was pronounced by the Rev. Mr. Thompson, of the
English College, to whose members the privilege of preaching in
honour of the illustrious and holy protomartyr has belonged since the
days when so many of its missionaries shed their blood in their native
land in defence of the ancient faith.

At a late meeting of the Congregation of Rites, the preliminary
questions relative to the beatification of six venerable servants of God,
were examined, and it was decreed that they slioidd be allowed to
proceed. These decrees have been approved and confirmed by his
Holiness.

On the 1 5th of February, the Pope held a public Consistory in the
Vatican Palace, for the promotion of six cardinals The cardinals
elect first proceeded to the adjoining (Sixtine) chapel, to take the
oath required by the apostolic constitutions. I'hey were led back to
the Consistory by the three senior cardinals of the orders of bishops,
priests and deacons, and by Cardinal Pedicini, the Vice-Chancellor, and
Cardinal Giustiniani, Chamberlain of the holy Roman Church, and
Protector of the English College, and by them accompanied to the
foot of the throne. They kissed the foot and hand of the Pope, who
embraced each of them in turn. Having received the embraces of the
other cardinals, they retired to their places, and afterwards returned to
the throne, when the Pope placed the cardinal's hat on their heads.
The Sacred College next pn)cee(led to the chapel to assist at the TV
Denniy at the end of which. Cardinal Pacca, Bishop of Ostia and Dean
of the Sacred College, read the prayer Super electos, and the new
cardinals were again embraced by their colleagues. When this salu-
tation was concluded, his Holiness held a secret Consistorj-, in which
he nominated bishops for eight different churches, one of them for
Guayaquil in South America, a see just erected. The Pope then
placed the ring on the fingers of the new cardinals, and nominate<l
them to their respective titular churches in the following order: —
Monsignor Mai, late Secretarj' of the Propaganda, Cardinal Priest of
St. Anastasia; Monsig. Falconieri-Mellini, Archbishop of Ravenna,
Cartlinal Priest of St. Marcellus ; Monsig. Orioli, Bishop of Orvieto,
Cardinal Priest of Sta Maria supra Minfrvam ; Monsig. Mezzofante,
late Librarian of the Vatican, the celebrated linguist, Cardinal Priest
of St. Onuphrius ; Monsig. Ciacchi, Governor of Rome, Cardinal
Deacon of St. Angelo ; iSlonsig. Ugolini, Cardinal Deacon of St.
George. In the evening, their eminences went in state to the Basilica
of St. Peter, whence they proceeded to pay their respects to the Dean
of the Sacred College. On the same evening, the Pope's master of
the robes carried the hat to each of the new cardinals at their palaces.

The following appointments have taken place in consequence of these

560 Miscellaneous Intelligence. [April.

promotions : Monsig. Cadolini, Archbishop of Spoleto, to be Secretary
to the Congregation of Propaganda : Monsig. Laureani, to be first
Librarian of the Vatican ; Monsig. Molza, to be second Librarian :
Monsig. Fornari, Professor of Divinity at the Roman seminary, has
proceeded as nuncio to Brussels.

We regret to announce within the last year the deaths of no fewer
than six cardinals ; Brancadoro, Trezza, Doria, De Simonc, Gonzaga,
and Marisi, Archbishop of Palermo, who died a victim to his exertions
during the ravages of the cholera in that city.

A charitable lottery is shortly to be drawn in Rome, the proceeds
of which are to be applied to the support of the orphans left destitute
by the cholera. The prizes consisting of fancy articles of every
description, many of them of great value, have been sent by the most
illustrious personages. His Holiness has sent upwards of fifty rich
prizes; the cardinals have followed his example; other prizes have
been sent by the Queen of the French, Madame Adelaide, the Princesses
of Denmark and Sulmona, the Countess of Beverley, and by most of
the English ladies at present in Rome. The number of prizes amounts
to two thousand, and sixteen thousand tickets have been already de-
posed of.

The original manuscript copy of the acts of the schismatical council
of Pistoja, have been lately presented to the Pope by the secretary of
one of the bishops present at it.

Russia. — According to the official census of 1831, the population
of Prussia amounted to 13,100,000 souls, of whom nearly 5,000,000
were Catholics, 8,000,000 Protestants, 168,000 Jews, 15,000 Mennon-
ites. In the province of Aix-la-Chapelle, the Catholics were 345,000,
Protestants and others 12,000. This province contains more Catholics,
in comparison with other creeds, than any of the rest. After it comes
Munster, containing 300,000 Catholics and 40,000 of other creeds.
The same proportion exists in the regency of Treves. In Dusseldorf
and Coblentz, the majority of Catholics is considerable. In the begin-
ning of 1837, the Catholic clergy of Prussia included, the two arch-
bishops of Cologne and Posen, the two prince-bishops of Breslau and
Ermeland, the three bishops of Munster, Paderborn and Culm, eight
suffragans, twenty-five prelates, and one hundred canons. The secular
clergy amounted to 3,500 curates, and 1,900 chaplains or vicars.
Almost the only religious communities are those for instructing youth
and visiting the sick. Most of the ecclesiastics belonging to the
suppressed monasteries are dead. The clergy of Prussia is stated at
8,000 in all. — Si&n of Augsburg.

END OF VOL. IV.

C. RICHARDS, PRINTER, ST. MARTIN's LANE, LONDON.

INDEX

FOURTH VOLUME OF THE DUBLIN REVIEW.

Africa, west coast of — meditated inter-
ference of France with British right,
183. Rival claims of the French and
English to the possession of Portendic,
190^French encroachments, 192 — on
what grounds, 193 — aggressions upon
British vessels, 194 — insulting conduct
of a French officer, 196 — attempt to
justify the blockade of the coast, 197.

Agap^B, theory respecting their origin,
103— their resemblance to pagan rites,
104.

Algiers — cannot be long retained by
Prance, 181 — origin of the French
aggression, 184— explanations demanded
by England, ibid. — assurances given,
ibid. — they are disregarded, 188.

Allegories — authority for their adoption,
and application to a Christian meaning,
101.

American consul in Tahiti— remonstrates
with Queen Pomari respecting the
order for the departure of the Catholic
missionaries, 377 — refutes the asser-
tions of the methodist missionary, 382
— writes to the French consul at Valpa-
raiso, 38<) — and to the French commo-
dore off Chili, 391.

America, Ignited States of — revenue de-
rived from lands, 82.

Anglo-Nonnan literature, 121 — partiality
of our ancestors for metrical romance,
Und. — celebrated poets, 125 — chanson
de Roland, 126 — Lays of Marie de
France, 181.

Arabs, their enthusiasm in the cause of
Mehcmet AH against Turkey, 459.

Arena, bouse of, of the republican faction
in Corsica, 2 — the Arenas are banished
by Bonaparte from France, 7-

Ariottu, remarks on Aoae't iraaaUtioD,
396.

Association at Lyons for aiding foreign
missions, 368 — its funds bestowed with-
out distinction of countries to which
missions belong, ibid. — Catholics of the
United Kingdom should contribute
their good offices in concert with it,
ibid.

for colonizing New Zealand, plan

and objects of, 91 — their church policy,
95.

Atropos, on« of the weird sisters, 38—
a Greek allegorical being, its peculia-
rity, ibid. — common opinion assigned
to her the office of cutting the thread
of life, 64 — the end of human life
ascribed to her, 67.

Aylmers (the) by Mr. Griffin, notice of,
515.

Black Prince ( Edward, the) espoused the
cause of Peter the Cruel, 404 — through
whose agency, ibid.

Bema, magnetic experiment tried by
him, 223— iU failure, ibid.

Bernadotte, efforts of Pozzo di Borgo to
induce him to join the coalition against
France, 12.

Bede, his description of the manner in
which our ancestors played and sung,
121.

Bequests for promoting the knowledge of
the Catholic religion, declared valid by
the Master of the Rolls, 271.

Breton poetry, its connexion with Nor-
man poetry, 105 — testimonies to its
ori>>in and antiquity, 106.

Binns' work on Ireland, 410 — his endea-
vours to become acquainted with the
country, ibid. — his defence "f the peo-
ple from the charges of idleness, cruelty
and recklessness, 412 — his hostility to
emigration from Ireland, 423.

INDEX.

Brittany, afliiiity between its inhabitants
and those of Cornwall and Wales, 106
— was never subjugated, but passed by
marriage into the possession of Hugh
Capet's descendants, 107 — its bards
and jongleurs, 1 10 — fabulous legends,
113.

Bible, Catholics not forbidden to read its
approved version, but the Protestant
version, which is believed to be, in
many places, corrupted, 433 — objec-
tions to its indiscriminate pemsal with-
out note or comment, ibid.

Bishoprics in Ireland, abolition of several
by Lord Grey, 493 — O'Connell's
avowed indifference to the measure,
494 — Catholic members of Parliament
guiltless of any participation in it, 494.

Bonaparte, (Hoase of) of the Republican
faction in Corsica, 2 — Bonaparte en-
deavours to procure from Austria the
snrrender of Pozzo di Borgo, after
the campaign of 1809, 10— his interview
with Metternich in 1813, 13 — his over-
tures for peace, at Chatillon, iu 1814,
17.

Boyne-water (the) by Mr. Banim, notice
of, 515.

Byron (Lord) remarks on his " Beppo"
and " Don Juan," 397 — the disciples
of his school have renounced the cha
racter of epic chivalry, 398.

Canada, revolt of, occasioned by the in-
attention of England to its remon-
strances, 408.

——the most eligible lands not in the
hands of Government, 81 — population
of the upper province in 1832, 85.

Catacombs of Rx)me, their discovery
daring the pontificate of Sixtus V, 96
— inquiries of the learned respecting
them, 97 — connexion between the
paintings, and other remains found
therein, and the classic ait of the
Romans, 98 — they existed before the
Christians began to use them, ibid. —
the latter laid aside their profane appli-
cation, and invested them with a deep
and holy significancy, 99.

Charles I, his statutes concerning the
University of Dublin contained nothing
of a sectarian tendency, 288.

his intercession with the Parliamen-
tary commissioners in favour of two
young men sentenced to death for
robbery, 363 — not attended to, ibid.

Clavell (John) his highway exploits, 351
— sues for pardon in verse, and obtains
it, ibid.

Castlereagh (Lord) his mission lo th*
Emperor of Russia in 181 4, 16.

Candia, possession of retained by Mehe^
met Ali, 459.

Catholics of the United Kingdom should
contribute their good offices, iu concert
with the Association at Lyons, in aid
of foreign missions, 368 — should re-
lieve the wants of their brethren in
distant quarters of the globe, 370 —
which may be effected by the weekly
donation of the most insignificant
sums, 371.

in Ireland, persecuted by Protes-
tants, and forced to vote against their
consciences, 252 — sufferers alike with
Protestants from the prevailing out-
rages, 2.54.

eligible to scholarships in the Uni-
versity of Dublin, 283 — site of the
college and grounds granted by them,
290 — excluded through the bye laws of
the college board, 298 — mode of pro-
curing the abolition of the sacramental
test imposed, 304.

missionaries in Tahiti, violent pro-
ceedings of the methodist missionary
against them, 372 — he attempts to
oppose them, 374 — they obtain an
audience of the Queen, ibid. — are sent
away at the instigation of the methodist
missionary, 387— Catholic bishop's let-
ter to the methodists, 389.

mission to the Gambia Island, 372

— its success, 373.

priests of Ireland, virulent abuse

of them by Dr. Meyler, 475.

members of Parliament accused of

perjury by Dr. Philpotts, 486 — utter
fallacy of his arguments in proof of the
charge, 487 — Guiltless of any partici-
pation in Lord Grey's measure of
abolishing several Irish bishoprics, 494.

oaths, not violated by the arguments

of Catholic members of Parliament in
the debates on the Tithe Question, 492
— refusal of the bishop of Malta to
take the oaths brought by Dr. Philpotts
in aid of his charge of perjury against
the Catholic members, 495.

Religion, consolations derived from

it by the poor Irish, 438.

religion in Elgin, 267 — persecuted

in Russia, 267 — its progress in Ger-
many, 268.

Church strengthened by the attacks

of the Church of England, 308— its
offices, how performed, 314 — excel-
lence and beauty of *its breviary ad-
mitted by Protestant writers, 315— its

INDEX.

iii

trmditional praclicea ever kept inviuUte,
3'2l — decrees of reform iftsued by it at
various times, 326 — instrumenU for
reforming its abuses, how ditTcrent from
Protestant reformers, 327— its consis-
tency, 33 1- early records of the sacri-
fice of the mass, ibid. — spirit of prose-
lytism inherent in it as a steady desire
to bring others to the possession of the
truth, 334.

Catholic Church reproached by Protestant
writer* with iguomucc and credulity,
118 — the charge unjust and uncandid,
ibid. — her province is to improve the
heart, not to sway the intellect, ibid.

Relief Bill of 1827, Sir Robert

Peel's warning of its tendency, 262 —
his words prophetic of the Tory policy
now attempted to be enforced, ibid.

press io Germany, 269.

Catholicism in France, atucks against it
of the press, and of incredulity under
the guise of spiritualism, 146.

Catullus, poem by, on the marriage of
Peieus and Theiis, 5o — the subject
treated according to Roman prejudices
and opinions, ibid.

Chaucer, some of his illustrations taken
from Armorica, 108.

Christianity, its comparative influence
when introduced among civilized and
uncivilized nations, 115.

Compact between a state and its subjects,
would be a political absurdity, 490.

Collegians (tlie) by Mr. Griffln, notice of,
616.

Corsica, character of its inhabitants, I.

Constitution of England does not recog-
nize mutilated power in the representa-
tive of the people, 491.

CommonK (House of) paramount duty of
its members, to bear their part in the
public deliberations, 491.

Clotbo, one of the weird sisters, 38— a
Greek allegorical being, its peculiarity,
ibid. — the beginning of human life as-
cribed to her, 67.

Controversy between the Protestant and
Catholic Churches, its present state,
278 — affords an involuntary testimony
in favour of the latter, ibid.

Colonization scheme for Ireland, in con-
junction with private companies, objec-
tions to it, 421.

Coloniiation (system of) in South Aus-
tralia, 82 — improved principles of,
adapted to New Zealand, 88.

Cologne (Archbishop of) measurea taken
by him to maintain the purity of the
Catholic dogmas, 233 — artifice of Prus-

sia towards him respecting a previous
convention as to mixed marriages, 237
— his pastoral letter, 239 — his tolerant
and conciliatory spirit, 240 — his reply
to the demand of Prussia, 241 — he is
arrested, 242 — dissatisfaction of the
Rhenish provinces, 243 — allocution of
Gregory XVI on the subject, 244.

Croppy (the) by Mr. Banim, notice of,
51.;.

Church Reform distinctly intimated by
Lord Grey, 493— who abolished teu
Irish bishoprics, ibid.

Church of England, its attacks prove
beneficial to tlie Catholic Church, 308
— antiquity and apostolicityof its watch-
words, ibid. — reforms called for, ac-
cording to Protestant writers, would
lead to a return to Catholic practices,
312 — its offices admitted to need emen-
dation, 313— have been gradually cur-
tailed, 316— its liturgy substituted for
the Catholic Service, 319.

Declaration against Popery made by her
Majesty in the House of Lords, sug-
gesting matter for deep and painful
reflection, 265.

Deluge (History of) as recorded in scrip-
ture, resemblance of the fable of
Deucalion to it, 102.

Dissenters eligible to scholarships and fel-
lowships in the University of Dublin,
283 — excluded through the bye-laws
of the college board, 298 — mode of
procuring the abolition of the sacra-
mental test imposed, 304.

Ela (Countess of Salisbury) when removed
to a fortress in Normandy, was dis-
covered by a knight under a minstrel's
garb, 123.

England, peaceful attitude of, towards
other powers, 179 — is utterly ignorant
of all that appertains to Ireland, 408 —
disregards the remonstrances of Canada,
ibid.

aspect of its people strongly con-
trasted with the appearance of the
people of Ireland, 439 — duty imposed
opon it of raising the latter to a level
with herself, ibitL

cordial disposition of the Irish people
to cultivate its friendship, 480.

Enfantin elected supreme father of tha
St. Simonians, 162 — proclamation is-
sued by him, 168 — blasphemous ex-
Eresaion of one of his followers, 169—
is trial, 169 — his present obscurity,
171.

INDEX.

Essex (The Countess of) a tragedy, by
H. J. Shepherd, 406.

English party in Ireland, degrading con-
sequences of their perverse domination,
480.

Elizabeth grants a charter for the foun-
dation of the University of Dublin,
285 — which contains nothing in favour
of the ascendancy of any sect or party,
288.

43rd act of her reign was the foun-
dation of the Poor Laws, 426.

Emigrants, proposed selection of, fos the
colonies, 85.

Emigration should be promoted by means
of the purchase-money of land, 83 —
system of, ibid.

— — from Ireland, objections to, 419, 423.

Episcopal authority, appealed to by Pro-
testants, 310 — it exists in all countries
that have remained Catholic, ibid.—
consequences of a departure from it,
311.

Egypt, its invasion by the French re-
sisted by Mehemet Ali, 441 — who is
apnointed Pasha, 448 — British expedi-
tion in favour of the Mamelukes, 451 —
re-embarks without effecting its object,
ibid. — all the countries watering the
Nile are united to it by Mehemet Ali,
455.

Fate, supposed to be governed by the
weird sistere, 37 — importance ascribed
to it by the ancients, ibid, — Greek
allegory respecting it, 38 — how under-
stood in the religion of ancient Rome,
40 — the fates of men, of nations, and
of the gods, warring against each other,
43 — allotted by the weird sisters
through the instrumentality of words
and songs, 59 — the lots imparted by it
were supposed to depend upon the
degrees of the zodiac, 66.

France, population of, now divided into
two classes, papists and free-thinkers,
145 — meditates interfering with British
rights in the west of Africa, 183.

Fairies, represented as dangerously hos-
tile to the early professors of Chris-
tianity, 116 — as afterwards claiming
the privileges of men and of christians,
ibid. — alleged marriage of a fairy with
Guy de Lusignan, 117.

Fasting and abstinences, Protestant prin-
ciples and practice thereon at variance,
821- -strictly adhered to by Catholics,
S23.

Florence Macarthy, by Lady Morgan,
notices of, 500.

Garabier islands, Catholic mission to,
372 — the inliabitants become attached
to it, 372 — build chapels and destroy
their idols, 373.

Greece, its legends and fables adopted by
the old Roman religion, 34 — Greek
allegory respecting fate and the weird
sisters, 38 — opinions respecting the
triple number, 44— Greek names when
first introduced into Italy, 52 — nuptial
ceremonies as described in the poem of
a Roman poet, Catullus, on the mar-
riage of Peleus and Thetis, 55.

— — arrival of Ibrahim Pasha with an ar-
my, 457 — he evacuates the'country,459.

Greek insurrection, its progress, 457 — the
Sultan summons Mehemet Ali to crush
it, ibid.

Gregory XVI, his allocution respecting
the treatment by Prussia of the Arch-
bishop of Cologne, 244.

Governess, condition of a, in England, 69.

Good shepherd, image of, derived from
the words of our Saviour, 102 — a sym-
bolic type already used by the ancients
in adorning their graves, 103.

Ghost-hunter, the, by Mr. Banim, notice
of, 515.

Gypsies, their introduction into England
in the reign of Henry VIII, 343.

Haunam (Richard) his popularity as a
highwayman, 364.

Hermes (Professor) his doctrine respect-
ing the foundation of faith, 233— -con-
demned at Rome, ibid. — Prussia at-
tempts to suppress the papal brief, ibid.

Hereditary rights, what would the conse-
quences of their abolition, 174.

Highwaymen, their origin, S36 — their
reputation as recorded by the Chief
Justice in the reign of Henry VI, 321
— they avoided mortal violence, 342 —
rules and regulations by which they
were governed, 353 — the race declined
in the reign of Queen Anne, 367 —
records of their humanity, ibid.

Hind (John) his highway renown, 355 —
fights for Charles II, ibid. — is taken,
357 — condemned to death, and glories
in his loyalty to the last, 358.

Hind (James) his exploits on the high
roads, 361 — attacks, amongst others,
Oliver Cromwell, 361.

Ibrahim Pasha, lands in Greece with an
army, 457 — evacuates it, 459 — besieges
and takes St. John d'Acre, ibid.

Italy, origin of its ancient inhabitants. Si
— Greek names when first introduced
into it, 52.

INDEX.

Ireland, violent language at Protestant
meetines in that country, 247— cases
of outrages, 250 — its landlords more
powerful for evil than any government
can be for good, 254 — objects of its

revilers, 261 it« connexion with

England, 407 — who is, nevertheless,
ignorant of all that appertains to the
sister island, 408 — disastrous efTtrcts
of such ignorance, 409— difficulties in
the way of its removal, ibid. — illibe-
rality of English travellers in that
country, ibid, —its natural advantages
and actual misery, 411 — advantages of
the small farm system, 415 — its success
on several estates, 416 — means of im-
proving the resources of the country,
420 — its grievance*, and remedies to
be applied, 428 — its southern peasantry
bear marks of the Spanish race, 438 —
its actual condition misrepresented by
Dr. Meyler, 479— degrading conse-
quences of the perverae domination of

the English party, 480 Tory jus-

tica designed for it, 484 — the tithes a
atanding cause of popular vexation,
488.

Irving, his agreement with St. Simon re-
specting the regeneration of the human
race, 155.

Irish scenery |and lakes, description of
their beauty, 435.

Irish people not naturally turbulent, 412
^their industry proved by the eager-
ness with which their services are
availed of in England, ibid. — their
honesty, 413 — their disposition to com-
mit outrages greatly exaggerated, 414
— means of raising them from their
present condition, ibid. — their ready
confidence in their superiors, 430 —
their resignation to their hard destiny,
ibid, —refutation of the charge of drunk-
enness alleged against them, ibid. —
their satirical humour, 431 — insults
heaped upon their clergy and religion,
434— inveterate enmity borne to them
by the Society of Friends, 435 — ab-
surdity of Dr. Meyler's proposed mea-
sures of coercion, 482 — their cordial
disposition to cultivate the friendship
of England, 480.

Irish novels and novelists, review of, 495.

James I, bis charter empowering the uni-
versity of Dublin to send two members
to Parliament contained nothing of a
sectarian tendency, 288.

Jongleurs, how they amused their gueats,
123.

Laoda— the best only are cultivated when
population moderate, 70 — advance in
price of corn a warning to extend cul-
tivation, 71 — effect upon the commu-
nity, ibid, — evil of proposed granta in
Western Australia, 78 — anxiety of
settlers to procure them, 80 — a pur-
chase-price compels labour for hire, 81
— too high a price would act as a tax
thereon, 82 — a medium price obviates
all objections, ibid. — revenue derived
from them in the United States of
America, ibid. — employment of pur-
chase-money as an emigration fund, 83.

Lachesis. one of the weird sisters, 38 —
a Greek allegorical being, its peculia-
rity, ibid. — the texture of human life
ascribed to her, 67.

Labour for hire, rendered necessary by
fixing a price upon land, 81.

La Rochefoucault Liancourt (Duke of)
proceeds to meet Louis XVIII in
England in 1814, 19.

Legacies to Catholic chapels and priesta,
for the offering up of prayers and
masses for the benefit of testators,
declared void by the Master of the
Rolls, 271.

Lingard (Dr.) letter to the Lord Chan-
cellor respecting the " Declaration
against Popery," made by her Majesty
m the House of Lords, 265.

Luther, his boundless credulity, 119 —
complaint of St. Simon againat him,
156.

Literature — Italian and French, £47.

Malta, Bishop of, his refusal to take the
Catholic oath, brought by Dr. Philpotts
in aid of his charge of perjury against
Catholic members of Parliament, 495.

Magnetism, definition of, 203 — discovered
by Mesmer, 205 — modes adopted for
eliciting its effects, 206— all bodies in
nature alleged to be susceptible of it,
207 — sensations felt by the patients,
ibid. — instances of its effects, 208 —
alleged facta, how to be explained, 215
— report to the French Academy of
Medecine, 216 — experiment tried by
Berna, 223 — its failure, ibid. — reflec-
tions, 225.

Mamelukes in Egypt, retrospect of their
hisior)', 443 — their rebellion against
the (urkish power, ibid. — tire at length
subdued, ibid. — their civil wars, 443 —
they sympathized not with the natives,
444— they defeat the Turks at Daman-
bur, 445— are joined by Mehemet Ali,
ibid, — who dooms them to destruction.

INDEX.

449 — British expedition in their favour,
451 — its failure, ibid. — Mehemet Ali
plans their extermination, 453 — and
succeeds in his object, ibid. — their fate
not commiserated, 454 — their charac-
ter, ibid.

Marriages, mixed, question respecting
them in the Rhenish provinces, 234 —
were sanctioned by ancient custom,
provided the children were brought up
in the Catholic religion, ibiJ. — brief of
Pius VIII, i6td— convention between
Prussia and the Archbishop of Cologne
in 1834, 236— Gregory XVI disap-
proves of the practice prevailing re-
specting them, 245.

Marriages of the I rish peasantry, 429.

Marie de France, Lays of, 131.

Magistracy in Ireland, necessity of its
complete revision, 470.

Martineau (Miss) her incorrect portraiture
of the Irish peasant, 413.

Maronites and Druses, driven to open re-
sistance by the treatment of Mehemet
Ali, 460.

Mahmud (Sultan) orders Mehemet Ali,
Pasha of Egypt, to annihilate the Wa-
habites, 452 — claims his assistance
against Greece, 457 — engages in war
against him, 459— his troops are de-
feated, 460— Russia interferes to pro-
tect his capital, ibid. — his resources in
spite of defeats and ill omens, ibid.

Manufactures, the spread of, would con-
duce to the welfare of Ireland, 416.

Mesmer, the discoverer of animal magne-
tism, 205 — indignation felt at his ex-
hibitions, 206 — he is compelled to leave
Paris, ibid,

Mehemet Ali, his origin, 440 — his hum-
ble occupation in early life, 441 — rises
to notice in tlie French invasion of
Egypt, ibid. — not discouraged by de-
feat, 442 — dismissed by the Turkish
general, 445 — joins the Mamelukes,
ibid. — dissembles towards the Sultan,
446 — named Pasha of Egypt, 448 —
dooms the Mamelukes to destruction,
449 — disobeys the firman displacing
him, 450— is confirmed in his dignity,
451 — is ordered to annihilate the Wa-
habites, 452 — plans the extermination
of the Mamelukes, 453— invites their
beys to a banquet, and puts them to
death, as well as their followers, it/id. —
takes and destroys the capital of the
Wahabites, 455 — unites to Egypt all
the countries watered by the Mile, ibid.
— his plans of improvement, 456 — is
ordered to crush the Greek insurrec

tion, 427 — sends Ibrahim Pasha to
Greece, ibid. — engages in war against
Sultan Mahmud, 459 — and defeats his
troops, 460 — is compelled by England
and France to desist from farther ag-
gression, ibid.— his treatment of ^e
Maronites and Druses, urges them to
open resistance, ibid.
Metternich (Prince) his interview with
Napoleon in 1813, 13.

Mesmeric doctrines, statement of, by
Baron Dupotet, 204.

Methodist missionary in Tahiti, his vio-
lent proceedings against the Catholic
missionaries, 372 — he attempts to op-
pose them, 374 — his correspondence
with the American consul to urge the
departure of the Catholic missionaries,
376 — his assertions refuted by the cott-
sul, 382 — the Catholic missionaries
sent away at his instigation, 387 — Ca-
tholic bishop's letter to the Methodists,
389.

Meyler (Dr.) his work upon Ireland, its
wicked tendency, 461 — the author a
tool in the hands of Conservatism, ibid.
— his hostility to O'Connell, 462 — a
Catholic by birth, he abandons his
faith, 463 — his pretended disinterested-
ness, 464 — his work a tissue of impo«
tent railing and frothy declamation,
465 — his attacks on Lord Mulgravp,
ibid. — his virulent abuse of O'Connell
and the Catholic priests, 473-75 — his
misrepresentation of the actual state of
Ireland, 479 — absurdity of the mea-
sures of coercion proposed, by him,
482.

Monastic revenues in England, their for-
feiture created want and vagrancy, 343.

Monasteries in England, recommendation
of the commissioners of Henry VIII
not to dissolve them, 426 — promise to
apply their revenues to charity, ibid.

Moreau, cooperation of, against France,
and promise held out to him, 12— his
death, 14.

Moorish people in Spain, promoters of
science, literature, and chivalry, 400.

Monmouth, Duke of, by Mr. Griffin,
notice of, 533.

Mnlgrave (Earl of, Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland) Lord Roden's chaises against
him, 248 — his defence in the House of
Lords, 252 — the production of alleged
facts to criminate his government proves
a testimony in its favour, 261 — his tri-
umphant vindication of the slanders
uttered against hinS, 264 — the rigid
perfoniMtnce of his duties has drawn

INDEX.

yH

upon him the implacable hostility of
the Irish Tories, ibid.

Mantes, edict of, by Henry IV, 142— its
revocation by Louii XIV caused by the
assislance given to French Calvinists
by Charles I, 142 — was suggested to
him by his ministers, not by the Catho-
lic clergy, 143.

New Zealand, its adaptation to the im-
proved principles of colonixaticm, 88 —
geographical position, extent, and re-
soui-ces, 89 — population, 90 — views of
colonization, 91 — character and habits
of the natives, 92 — immoral conduct of
European!) settled there, 91> — exertions
of religious missionaries, 95. I

Napoleon medals, struck in various coun-
tries from 180 ( to 1815, 277.

Netherlands, its pauper colonies, unfa-
vourable re]H>rts, 422 — mendicity not
got rid of by them, ibitl. — their utter
failure, 423.

Nick's (Swift) narrative of a robbery com-
mitted by him, 365.

Norman poetry, its connexion with Bre-
ton poetry, 105 — its mythology whence
derived, 112.

Nowlans (the) by Mr. Banim, notice of,
515.

Novels and novelists, Irish, review of,
495.

Numismatics, science of, wholly neglected
io England, 277.

Oaths in Parliament, not designed for
political security, but belong to the ad-
ministration of justice, 491 — ill effects
of them, ibid.

Oaths of Catholic members of Parliament
not violated by the arguments employ-
ed by them in the debates on the tithe
question, 492.

Outrages in Ireland, chiefly caused by a
system of combination with regard to
the tenure of land, 254 — by trade com-
binators, 255— and by the tumultuous
excitement of contested elections, 256.

Octave stanza (oitara rima) of the I ta-
Uans, its adoption by English poets,
395 — remarks upon its merits, ibid.

Owen, his agreement with St. Simon re-
apecting the regeneration of the human
race, 155 — bis plan of a cooperate
•ocietpr, 173.

Ordinauon, Protestant deftnition of, 324.

O'Briens and O* Flaherties, by Lady Mor-
gan, notice of, 501.

O'Connell (Daniel) Mr. Binns' visit to
his seat at Darryuaue, 437 — hospitality

shown to him, iAi//.— hostility of Dr.
Meyler to him, as evinced in his work
on Ireland, 462— evident falsehood of
the charges against him as to his in-
fluencing and controuling the Viceroy
of Ireland, 467 — his election for Dublin
falsely alleged to have been promoted
by the Irish government, 471 — virulent
abuse of him by Dr. Meyler, 473 — his
avowed indifTerence to Lord Orey's
measure of abolishing ten Irish bishop-
rics, 494.
O'Donnel, by Lady Morgan, 499.

Parcaj — see the Weird Sister*.

Padilla (Maria de) her ehariictcras given

in history and romance, 40U.
Pooli, a leader of the patriotic party in
Corsica, 2 — summoned to appear at
the bar of the Convention, 4 — treats
with the British admiral for the inde-
pendence of Corsica, 5— recommends
Pozzo di Borgo as president of the
Council of State, ibid.

Peleus and Thetis, the marriage of — the
poem of Catullus treats the subject
according to Roman prejudices and
opinions, .05.

Pe<lro of Castile, a poem written in the
octave stanza, or heroic measure of the
Italians, 395 — is conceived in a spirit
tending to revert to the singular tune
of heroic romance, 398 — its merits,
399—- Pedro of Cast le known in history
as Peter the Cruel, ibid. — extracts from
the poem, 401 — Peter the Cruel sug-
gested by Edward the Black Prince,
404 — through whose agency, ibid.

Philpotts (Dr.) Bishop of Exeter, charges
Catholic members of parliament with
perjury, 486 — utter fallacy of his argu-
ments in proof of the charge, 487 —
brings in aid of it the refusal of the
Bishop of Malta to take the Catholic
oath, 49.5.

Pius VIII, his brief respecting mixed
marriages, 234.

Protestantism, aristocratic character of,
141 — its alliance, in France, with un-
believers, 144.

Protestants in Ireland, alleged persecu*
tion of by the govcmmint, 2-18 — suf-
ferers in no greater proportion thaa
Catholics from the prevailing outrages,
2CA — alleged murder of clergymen offi-
cially denied, 258^vioIence of public
writers in their party, 259.

Protestant Church, ascendancy of, in the
Irish House of Commons, established
in the reign of James I, 291 —the sacn*

Tiii

INDEX.

mental test imposed by the university
of Dublin makes infidels of those it de-
coys from Calbolic-ism, 3U6.

Poetry, neglect of, at the present day,
393.

Profits and wages, why so low in England
and so high in America, 75.

Poor laws, their cfTects if introduced into
Ireland, 418 — volunUuy charity more
effective, 425 — they are reprobated by
Mr. Binns, 428.

Poor laws in England, object of early
legislation respecting them, 425 —
"statute of labourers" passed in 1351,
tt»</.— they originated in the 43rd act
of Elizabeth, 426 — subsequent enact-
ments, ibid. — writers who proclaimed
their inefficiency, 427 — reform of them
how operating, ibid.

Poor Scholar (the) by Mr. Carlcton, notice
of, 535.

Pozzo di Borgo, of a Corsican family, 1
— abode of the patriotic party, 2 — re-
presents Ajaccio in the French legis-
lative body, ibid. — advocates war, 3 —
returns to Corsica and joins Paoli, 4 —
origin of the enmity between him and
Bonapaite, ibid. — proceeds to England
to his diplomatic career in the service
of Russia, 8 — rejoices at Bonaparte's
downfall, 18 — attends the Congress of
Vienna, 20 — his advice on Bonaparte's
return to France, ibid.— his interview
with Wellington before the battle of
Waterloo, 21 — foresees the tragical
scenes of July 1830, 26 — remains am-
bassador from Russia aflcr the change
of dynasty in France, 28 — reluctantly
accepts the embassy to London, 31 —
bis private character, 32.

Population, surplus of iu Ireland, absurd
cry on the subject, 419.

Prussia, attempts to suppress the Papal
brief condemning the doctrine of Her-
mes, 233 — and to introduce a total
change in the discipline of the Catholic
Church, 235 — convention with the
archbishop of Cologne in 1831, 236 —
as to mixed marriages, 236 — artifice
towards his succession in 1835, 237 —
resolves upon employing force to attain
its end, 241 — the archbishop is ar-
rested, 242 — allocution of Gregory
XVI regarding its conduct, 244.

Religious system of the ancients, 33—
influence of the Greek religion on the
Roman and Italian characters, 31.

Reformation, the fathers of, said to have
separated less from the CatholicChurcb

than their successors have done, 309 —
wliat was gained by it, ibid. — it pulled
down the safeguards of religious truths,
ibid. — attained nothing on behalf of
good discipline nor of spirituality an<i
perfection of inward life, 329 — ruin
which it caused to the German empire,
ibid. — admitted by Protestants to have
been too hasty in dealing wiih outward
observances, 330 — is a work presenting
a series of shocks and convulsions re-
gulated by human passions, 334.

Reformed clergy in Ireland, the whole
body was puritan in the reign of James
I, 292 — convocation of, ib. — confession
of faith, drawn up by Archbishop
Usher, ibid. — question of receiving the
canons of the Church of England sub-
milted by the Lord Deputy to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, 293.

Rivals (the) by Mr. Griffin, notice of,
533.

Richelieu (Duke of) succeeds Prince Tal-
leyrand in the presidency of the French
councils, 22 — his feelings on signing
the Treaty of 20th Nov. 1815, 23.

Roland (Chanson de) 126.

Rome, its religion adopted the legends
and fables of Greece, 34 — fate, bow
understood, 40 — opinions respecting
the triple number, 44 — limitation of
life, 49 — military service required of
each citizen, 49 — marriage ceremonies,
53. ■

Roden (Earl of) his violence at Protestant
meetings in Ireland, 247.. his attacks
upon Lord Mulgrave, 248. .their utter
failure, 249.

Robespierre intended to establish a new
religion, himself the Mahomet of it,
145.

Robbery was formerly the hereditary
birth-right of the brave, 357 . . penalties
affixed to the offence, 388. .claimed all
thechivalric attributes,339. .executions
for, in the reigns of Henry VIII and
Elizabeth, 343.. how depicted on the
stage, 346. .complaints against those
who killed for thefl, 361. .extent to
which carried, 362.

Robin Hood, sayings and doings of, 339.

Russia, its persecution of the Catholic
religion, 267.

Salic.etti (house of) of the republican
faction in Corsica, 2..Salicetti accuses
Paoli and Pozzo di Borgo of meditating
the separation of Corsica from France,
4.

Shepherd (H. J.) merits of bis poem.

INDEX.

ix

P^roofCasti1e,398'MUbeautieB,401 . .
hii tragedy of th« Counter>8 of Euex,
40e.

Senegal, French mission to, in 1785, 181
..its object, tMW.. .project for organ-
izing a government, 182. .commercial
rivalries between British and French
merchants on the coast, 1 89.

SU Sifcon (Henri de) account of hi^ life,
148. .his works, 149. .his theory of the
perfectibility of the human race, 150. .
its absurdity, 151 ••his complaint
against Luther, 156.. bis new Christi-
anity, 157.

SL Simonism, object of its authors, 139
..its doctrines, 140, 158 ••claims to be
the new saving religion, 160.. consti-
tuted after the revolution of July 1830,
161 . .sermons preached by its followers,
162 • • its theory concerning women,
166<.horror manifested at it, 176..
traces left of the society, 178.

St. Simonians have always spoken with
respect of the Catholic Church, 1.5S. .
their pecuniary resources, 161.. elec-
tion of their supreme father, Enfantin,
162- •their dissentions, 165.. and dis-
persion, 167.. many return to the Ca-
tholic faith, 172.

South Australia, system of colonization,
82. .funds how raised, 87.

Somnambulism, remarks upon, 229. .sur-
gical operation performed on a patient
under its effects, 230.. audacious blas-
phemy of those who have ascribed the
prophecies and miracles to the som-
nambulic vision, 231.

Tracts for the Times, a work written by
Protestant divines with a view to revive,
in the Anglican Church, a love of an-
cient principles and practice, 308. .and
to enforce its claim to authority upon
the laity, ibid.

Tales of Fashionable Life, &c., by Miss
Ed^eworth, notice of, 496.

Tales by the O'Hara Family, notice of,
503.

Tales of the Munstcr Festivals, by Mr.
Giiffin, notice of, 515.

Talleyrand (Prince) his cabinet formed
under the auspices of Wellington, 22. .
succeeded by the Duke of Richelieu
through the influence of Russia, HiitL

Trappists, order of, in Ireland, descrip-
tion of thi-ir scat at Mount Melleray,
436.. their expulsiion from Melleraye
abbey in Brittany in 1831, ibid... \and
granted to them by Sir Richard Kcane,
•^(^..gratuitous assistance of the Irish

f .

people in raising their habitation, ibid.
..have converted a wilderness into a
fertile spot, ibid.

Tahiti, island of, Catholic missionaries to
it, 372.. they obtain an audience of
Queen Pomare, 374 . . hor letter to them
ordering their departure, 375. .corres>
pondence of the American consul re-
monstrating against the order, 377..
they are sent away at the instigation
of the methodist missionary, 887..
Quern Pomare's letter to the Catholic
bishop, 387.

Tasso, translations of, their relative me-
rits, 396.

Tracy's Ambition, by Mr. Griffin, notice
of, 533.

Tithes in Ireland, the standing cause of
popular vexation, 488. .a change does
not involve a wresting of Church tem-
poralities or clerical revenues, 492.

Tilhe question, oatlis of Catholic mem-
bers of parliament not violated by their
argument in the debates thereon, 492
. . concerns every being in Ireland
having landed interests or subsisting
by agricultural labour, 494.

Trouv^res, their character gradually as-
sumed by jongleurs, 125.

Tubber Derg, by Mr. Carleton, notice of,
536.

Turpin, his robberies and death, 366.

University of Dublin, its advantages to
students, 281.. their religious princi-
ples not interfered with, ibid., .objec-
tions to which the institution is liable,
283- 'designed for Irishmen of all creeds,
285.. its foundation, i&iti.. .oaths and
qualifications of scholars and fellows,
295. .exclusion of Catholics and Dis-
senters through bye-laws of the College
Board, 298. .proofs that they had no
power of dispensing with the old or
enacting new laws, 300. .liberality of
the present board, 305.

Vagrancy ib England formerly punished
by the most atrocious laws, 425. .their
inefficiency, 426.

Voluntary charity, pauperism in England
formerly relieved by it, 426.. promise
given at the suppression of English
monasteries to apply their revenues to
charitable purposes, 426.

Wahabites, theirencroachments in Arabia,
452.. Mehemet Ali ordered to annihi-
late them, ibid.' •he takes and destroys
their capital, 455.

INDEX.

Wages, nature of, 172.

Waste lands in Ireland, their cultivation
recommended towards afTordin;; relief
to the lower .irders, 417. .means to be
employed, and difficulties to be over-
come, 4 1 9.

Wakefield (Mr.), his evidence on coloni-
zation, 78.

Wesley, his childish credulity, 120.

Wistern Australia, evils of p.oposed
grants of land, 78.

Weird sisters {the Parca) supposed to
govern fate, worship of them in ancient
times, 37.. their attributes, 38.. opi-
nions of writers respecting tliem, 44. .
task assigned to them in the old Roman
religion, 48- -they allotted fate through
the instrumentality of words and signs,
59. .they prophesied and imparted re-
velations, 60.. their power of granting
and restricting, ibid. ..an unkind and
malignant nature ascribed to them, 62 . .

their restrictive power observed par-
ticularly in death, 63.. belief that if
they were removed, life would be infi-
nite, t&i<i.. .the gods occasionally sub-
ject to them, 65.. late writers of anti-
quity make them rulers of time, 66.

Wellington, Duke of, his interview with
Pozzo di Borgo before the battle of
Waterloo, 21.

Wild Irish Girl, by Miss Owenson, notice
of, 499.

Women, theory of St Simonism concern-
ing them, 166.. their prerogatives in
Christian society, 1 74 .. horror mani-
fested at tlie new theory, 176.

Workhouse system in Ireland, evil effects
of its introduction, 418.

Zodiac, degrees of, the lots imparted by
destiny were believed to depend upoa
them, 66. '

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The Dublin review. vil.4,
AIP-2395 (awab)

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