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OCTOBER, 1839, AND JANUARY. 1840. 



(latb Lxim) 
comx ov sKMSWiT AND ran imiT, 






Art. I. — 1. ConMM Mxttu iiraiieui. 
dit Dr. O. Flugel. 4to. 

2. CffroMu Arabiee ReeeniionU FlugiUana 
Uxlum reeognilum ilentm expritni euravit 
G. M. Redslob, Phil. Dr. et in Univ— 
Lips. Prof. Publ. Extniord. gr. Bvo. 

8. Al Koran.— Bg MahovKL Trwwlaled 
by Sale, dec. 

How is il the Korano is so little read? Our 
moat popular Ulesare adopted from (he East, 
our most popular poetry coloured from its 
imagery and its maQaeriams ; — Why ia the 
mosi imagia&live and moat poetical of all 
Eastern compoaitiona comparatively uqdo- 
tJced ? The deepest Javeatigationa of the his- 
torian relate to the slupendoiis revolutions 
which Asiahss undergone. Why is the elo- 
quence in which ihe moat stupeadous of 
tnese originated suffered to sleep in silence 
oD the shelfT In an age when philosophy 
probes, and reiigioD strives to reconcile, all 
the varieties of menial persuasion) why ia 
the impregnable faith of half the world gen- 
erally unread and almost always unsludied J 
Such are the rcllectiona and oaticipalions 
with which the literary tyro entera on (he pe- 
rusal of the Koraiin ; but be has hardly 
concluded a chapter, before he finda the an- 
swer to hisqueriea, and feels himself obliged 
to airuggle with the very apathy he had con- 
demned in others. A tissue of reiterated 
rbapsody>-«llusions which are Linknown — re- 
guIauoDs the necesaiiy and the object of which 
are not understood — couched loo in an idioni 

vol. 2XIV. 1 

anda phraseology very different from thoM of 
any other work with which be may be ac- 
quainted — are all the most attentive reader 
can at first discover. If he makoa an at. 
tempt at trsnalation, his patience has to un. 
dergoBstill severer trial; 'the only tolerable 
version is that of Salct who, though a maS' 
ler of the language, has been betrayed by a 
cruel scrupulousness into Iraosloling words 
rather than ideas. In both cases the result 
is commonly the same — the student throws by 
his book in disgust, and adds another to tlw 
Dumber of (hose who are content to bearof the 
beautiea of the Korann, without attempling 
to become acquainted with them. Or, if hia 
reaolution is proof against Ihe difiiculties he 
meets with, be runs through it without at- 
tention and closes it without an idea. Many 
chapters indeed, to all bul the linguist, are 
better passed over than read, as they are 
mere repetitions of otben more instructive — 
and none can be perused with intereei till 
soma clue is obtained to the order and oh. 
ject of composition. 

We flatter ourselves, therefore, that we 
ihail be doing an acceptable service to more 
than one class of readers, by takings curso- 
ry review of the style, matter, and general 
peculiarities of this extraordinary work, and 
applying ihe leading chapters to the circura. 
aiances that explain their purport. This it 
is impossible to do without considering at the 
same lime the character and fortunes of the 
author; and this article will contequontly 
treat of Mahomet as well as of bii Scripture. 

I qitizedbyGoOgle 

Vum$ md <»j«€tt ^ Malumtt m 


At our fint itep we j^unge at once into 
ibe awfulDem of tba gsnorKlquealioQ. Wiih 
the ezceptioQ of pnyera, & few of which ooly 
occur, the Kormna u written throughout id 
tite poraon of the Almighty. Bemoaeirences 
and io^raotiixMi promkea apd ihreala, blesi. 
inga kud cursee, are all repreaeoted aa pro- 
ceeding directly from him. And though 
aometimea the current of enthoaiaam and in- 
dignatioD aeems to loaa aight of its aacred 
BouTBfl, the oonnectioo ia conatantly recalled 
■t the end of the period. Though a good 
deal of what may be strictly termed poetry 
occura in the eariy chaptera, the bulk ofthe 
work ia proae which rhymea. To preserve 
the concluding cadence, a few worda of simi- 
lar import and construction are constantly 
made use of, and it ia thia continual recur- 
lence of almoat identical phraaea eAer sen- 
tenceaof proae, which rendera tranalaiion 
■uch a difficult laak. Without the liceuee 
of poetry and without the plainness of prose, 
it ia impoaaible to preaerre its effect without 
aacrificing ita identity. Were any one bound 
in translating Homer, or Heaiod, to render 
strictly nil the complimentary and tertninat- 
in^ epithela that hare auch a fine efTecl in the 
original, bis version would be nearly aa un- 
entertainiogaa Sale's translation of the Ko. 
Tana. Tet in this there would be less diffi. 
cully, becauae in them every part of every 
line baa all the freedom and fancy of poetry. 
It would aeem, however, that the seniencea 
have a rude apeciea of rhythm independent of 
the terminating cadence ; but one which ia 
anattaioable to a European ear. Our ca- 
thedral chants, in which verses of very dif- 
ferent length are all adapted to the same me- 
fctdy, will enable ua to underataod how tbia 

If the reader* will turn to Mra. Harris' 
petition in Swifl, and hia rhyming letter to 
Dr. Sheridan, he will God something that may 
give him an idea of the conatruction of the 
Arabic text, though none at all of its efleci. 

• To nn him trouble we ■vbjom ■ few liim 

"IVithskr BMdlaaciM the I^irds JiMticM of In. 

Isod, tha hiunbla Petition of Fisnoee Burii, 
"Who miutilUTa end dies msid if It mimrrlc 

" And J bed in ro; puns nreD poandi fgnc ihiUuigi 

Bod eiiMnee (beaidis ftiHunp) in lilver uid 

" U is impoMible to know by TOUT tatlar whether the 

wins is la 1m bottled lo-nuurow at no. 
" Itlt be or be not, trhj did not tou, in plsia Enr- 

lUi, leUneoT 
"Tmljl dontknow wbe'aboand tobesendbf far 

eoib lo tlof jroar bottles with e yvognnat. 
** Meke e page of jooi own en, end eeod jonr men 

AleiBDder to niy oorke, & Bsoaders has (one 

It ia not the irregularity of c 
of irrepressible ermtioo. Bometimea, in the 
earnestneas of hia enthusiasm and the exu- 
berance of hia Jaocy, the prophet burriea by 
hia reeling place, and expatiates with more . 
than Findanc license beyond it ; aometimea 
two or three worda, or even a single one of 
sounding utterance and tremendoua signifi- 
cation, is made to leapond to and balance a 
whole aenteoce. In either case the reader'a 
mind aympathises with the expreaaion mot« 
than the sound, and lost in the rush of feel- 
ing or stunned by the concentration of it, 
hardly perceives the inequality of the metre. 
After this description it can acarcely be ex- 
pected that any versified specimen will be 
offered to the English reader. The attempt 
would be attended with iocoDueivabla la- 
bour and very dubious success. Such occa- 
sional extracts, however, in prose, aa will 
auffiee to give an idea of the general alyle 
and feeling, we shall be obliged to present 
him with as the article proceeds. 

The Komnn it ia generally known vraa 
prod u ced and published in detached paasages 
uf from 3 to 100 lines, as occasion required. 
Whenever a new argument or a new taunt 
vas to be answered, or a new rule establish- 
ed, it was said lo be revealed by some new 
rerses. These, according to Mahomet's di- 
rections, were either written aeparaiely as 
an independent chapter, or placed under 
some former one, lo some or other passage 
of which be might consider them pertinent. 
In making these arraugemetats, tKwever,he 
does not seem to have been guided l^ any 
very perfect knowledge of what was contain' 
ed in former chapters, or by any very pre- 
cise rules in commencing a new one. Hence 
two important peculiarities: — 1. The chap- 
ters are of every imaginable length, from 2 
and 3 lines to 1300 and 1600. 2. Every 
variety of subject, under every variety of 
date, ia thrown together, without any visible 
conoBclion, and the same aentencea are re- 
peated several times in the same chapter, and 
innumerable times in different ones, with 
soDK very trifling difierence of expression. 
This it is which asioDishes and disgusts the 
reader, who baanot means, or who has not pa- 
tience, to diacover the occasion on which the 
aeparate passages were produced, and wstch 
the workings of feelingand the changes of dis- 
position, for which they areoflen so remarka- 
ble. This too it ia which renders it impossible 
to make any thorough digest of the work, ei> 
ther in subject or dale, without disloctuing and 
readjusting with inconceivable labour almost 
every psssage it contabs. Another re- 
markable circumstance — the similarity, al- 
mosi identity, of many chaptera in atyle and 
matlM, can only be explaJited by a reference 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

tMe CampotitiffH of Ike Eorann. 


to the propbet'a moat tiingulu diatiocdon — 
i. e. hia ignorance. No one that wrote wK&t 
he compMed, and read nbat be wrote, would 
bare ao often reiterated a single idea with 
such rery alight difiereoce of expression. 
But Mahomet, who could do neither, hardly 
erer recalled a prerioua compoaition without 
making aocue alight difierence in the worda ; 
and tbia waa aufficient, from the aaaumptioo 
of the Prophet and the seal of hia fbllowera, 
to render it a fresh revelation, which it would 
have been impiety not to record. It is more 
than probable Oiia tendency was encouraged 
ntiber than cheeked by ttie wily eotbusiasi. 
"Quin eliam volominibus ipns, eaya Pliny, 
" auctoritalen) quandam et pulohritudinam 
adjtcit magoitudo." And if tbia is the case 
wtth ordinary writinga, it must be still more 
so with such aa aapire to be called sacred. 
The speedily incTeasing bulk of the Korann 
no doubt excited the wonder of hia enemies, 
and quickened the devotion of his friends. 
It is not impossible that some of these " alier 
idema" may have been produced by the 
casual omissions and vanationa incident to 
i«petitiou. The original passages we know 
were written dnwn from the Prophet's mouth, 
and thent afier being promulgated amon^ 
his followers, were deposited in a cheat ; but 
many must have been loat or miaplaoed, oth- 
erwise Abuhecre, in tbe year afier Mahomet's 
death, would never, with all the original id 
hia possession, have compiled the KoraoD aa 
he did, by collecting all the copies of every 
passage ibal was extant, and recovering 
much that was missing, from tbe memoriea 
of tbe most ancient believera. Any altera- 
tions proceeding from this source, however, 
must have bem very slight, as they must 
have been involuntary. 

In arranging the chapters on this occasion, 
theMoslima,in their own thorough acquaint- 
ance vith every part of tbe whole and every' 
rarcumatsDce connected vritb ita productkin, 
seem not to have considered it at all necea. 
aary to place the early ones before the late ; 
chance appears to have directed the diapoai- 
liott. Tbe latter chapters, coolainiog the 
bulk of all tbe regulations relalive to internal 
polity, were tbe first sought for, the first 
compleled, and the first placed. Some, how> 
ever, of an earlier date, being more readily 
obtained, intervened amor^ tbe odien ; and 
tbe bulk of the chapters, which contained 
nothing particularly remarkable, naturally 
took their order according to what occasion. 
ed most solicitude to the compitera, vis. Ibeir 

With the opening veraes of the 73d and 
the 74tb chapten, tbe Korann may be pro- 
perly said to commence. We have there 
the Angel OabriePa address to the Prophet, 

exhorting him to orepare himself for his 
aacred office, and toe words with which ha 
imagined himself addressed by the nma 
heavenly messenger, when he hid himself 
from the terror of bis awful presence in the 
lap of hia wife Khadijeh. lS»t Mahomet 
was, at this period, frequently visited by 
mental perturbations of ibis sort, was the 
early belief of the E^em Christians, whose 
vicinity to the acene of his life and laboura 
entitles their lestimony to some respect ; and 
whose inventions, if taxed at all, would hard, 
ly have been satisfied with this innocent and 
ambiguous fabrication. By hia followers, 
for obvious reasooa, the assenion ia not sup- 
ported ; but borne out aa it ia by internal 
evidence, an impartial inquirer will hail with 
joy this early clue to the morbid emhusiaun 
which, he will soon find, is the only motive, 
short of actual inspiration, that can explain 
tbe conduct of Habomet and the triumph of 
hia faith. No traoea of this emotion, bow- 
ever, are to be found in any late chapter; 
and the question of hia sincerity in asenbing 
the whole Korann to God, may there, 
fore be agitated by some, independently of 
anything be might have believed with regard 
to these early passages. But here we must 
observe that the superstitious, tbe almost 
idolatrous reverence with which the work is 
regarded by Habommedaos, has only a very 
slender foundation in tbe text Beiidea the 
general assertion that it proceeds firom God, 
and tbe casual mention at the end of ehapter 
of the preserved table, in which it is 
inacribed, nothing can be found to justify tbe 
mysticism in which it has sinoe been in> 
volved. If tbe reader will consult the end of 
chapter 42, and the b^;inning of chapter S8, 
be will see not only that this inconsisteBcy 
may be easily reconciled, but that Mahomet 
makes csocesstons which leave no inconsist- 
ency at all. The Moslem commentators 
reading these passages by tbe light of their 
darling prejudices, pervert than mio a mora 
limited sense than they strictly bnr : (htm 
their interpretations, Maraecius waa too il. 
liberal, ana Sale too Bcrupoloua to depan ; 
and it is iherelbre meeamry to render theia 

"By the star when it fallal Your ooan> 
tryman ia not miataken, neither spaaks he by 
his own impulse : what is it but inaiiiintiott 
he la Avoured wiihl The Aknignty b« 
taught it him : be haa mi^ested to hb aer- 
▼ant what he hath aunested ; his imagina' 
tton has not deceived him in what he saw: 
wherefhreihendoyoadooh him in what he 
sees? He hath varUy beheld another do- 

ofpartitionhardby ia 

the abode of paradise. Where the eedar 
shades that which it shaJw hli eye shrunk 
not nor wandered—he hnth mir nwi 

View* and Ohjecli of Mahomet in 

mighty Ibinffs of the ■igos of hit Lord. 
Cbap. liil. 

" It Is not pOFsible for man tbat the Lord 
should speak lo him except hy inspiration, 
or from behind a veil ; or he would send a 
meesenger to suggest to him hv bis permb- 
■ioQ that which he pleases. Thus it is thtit 
we have suagesled to thee iu spirit (or by 
spirit) of what we ordain. Thou knewcst 
not what was scripture nor what religion 
hut we rendered it a iighl lo thee, tbat wi 
might direct by it whom we please of oui 
servants, for verilv thou directest in the 
righteous path," — Chap. xlii. 

From these words two things are evident ; 
fiiM, that Mahomet nowise asserts a super- 
natural appearance to attend every revela- 
tion : on the contrary, he thinks it sufficient 
to appeal to a single and a long past one ; 
probably one of the identical illusions from 
which we have just seen him sufiering, ' 
order to give authority to all he said. S 
condly, that he acknowledges that inspiratii 
is carried on, not by visible means, but by 
an internal and invisible process. This is 
still more clear from a rather ludicrous 
passage in the 75th chapter, where he 
desired not to be too hasty in pronauncing 
the words of the Korann, before the inter. 
nal suggestion of it was completed. Still, if 
he was coavinced that the mental process of 
composition was one of revelation, he was 
not insincere in asserting the Korann to be 
revealed; and if, in the zeal of instilling 
what he firmly believed himself, he repre- 
sented (though we have no proof that ho did 
represent) the presence by which he ima- 
gined himself guided, as more sensibly mani- 
fhsl than he felt it to be, he only practised 
one of those conscientious exaggerations 
which none are so prone as the most viru- 
lent among his opponents. 

The prophet waa forty years old when he 
felt himself thus awfully called to the arduous 
task of changing the long established religion 
of millions. The affection of his wife Khadi- 
jeh~4ho childish enthusiasm of his cousin 
Aly — and the ignorant devotion of his ser. 
'vant Zeid — may perhaps be considered as 
natural and easy conquests. But the con- 
version of his friend Abubecre, a man of 
mature age, and high character, can only 
be explained by the instability and real 
emptinese of the religion he deserted. By 
his 'ioflaence ten of the most respectable 
inhabitants of Mecca were prevailed on to 
listen to the prophet; and an attention that 
was probably at first only prompted hy cu- 
riosity and politeness at last became sealed 
by conviction. To these fourteen the sacred 
secret was for three years confined, and it is 
10 the lofty devotion of their earlier meetings 
that we must ascribe Ihe beautiful prayer 

which forms the first Che{>ter of the Ko- 

" Glory to God Ihe Lord of worlds— the 
merciful — the compassionate — Ihe Judge of 
the last day. 

"Thee do we serve and thee do we en- 
treat — Guide us in Ihe right way. 

" The way of those thou hast been gracious 
lo— not of Chose thou art incensed against, 
nor of those who go astray." 

No other composition belonging to this 
period seems to be extant, nor therefore to 
have existed : — facit indignalio versus. In 
pious calmness or the mere agitation of sue* 
pense, there was nothing to call forth the 
prophet's powers ; lu borrow his own ex- 
pressive simile, it is during the storm that the 
thunder rolls and Ihe lightning flashes. The 
Korann required the conflict of passion to 
give it birth. 

In the fourth year he publicly asserted his 
divine mission ; but here ihe power of pre* 
judice was reinforced by the pride of family, 
the interest of office, and the insolence of 
age. He addressed the saered guardians of 
a sacred city, and he was received wilb 
aslonisbmeot and contempt. We should 
dlipect to lind in tlie Korann some amicable 
and mild invitation with which the men of 
Mecca were now accosted ; but Mahomet's 
com muni cat ions with them, as long as ihey 
would listen with decency, appear to have 
biien verbal. In one of these conferences 
he was importunaiely applied to by a blind 
beggar, lor instruction in the way of God : 
vexed at ihe untimely interruption, the pro- 
phet frowned and turned away in anger: for 
this he is severely reprehended in the BOlh 
chapter, and this humble follower was ever 
afterwards distinguished with the most 
respectful treatment. With the exception of 
this passage and the few lines which com- 
pose llie 105th and lD6ib chapters, no worda 
are to be found applicable to the period in 
which he may be supposed to have regarded 
his advoraaries with the hope of an entbu> 
siail and the pity of a relative. This inter, 
val, however, was but short ; he must have 
been prepared for incredulity, but he could 
not brook contempt. Mortified with the ill 
success he met, and stung with the contumely 
he received, he seems to have suffered dark 
moments of diffidence and doubi, when the 
warmth of his soul was chilled and its light 
extinguished, and when all the sacred hopes 
which had lifted him above bis kind appeared 
to leave him below it. One of these menial 
struggles is beaulifulty depicted in the 9Sd 
chapter ; the 94th is also on the same sub- 
ject; indeed consolatonr passages 
frequent occurrence alt throttgh the Meccan 


alt throttgh^ Mecc 

qitized by Google 


chapters, The BSd being written in more 
regular metre than is generally to be met 
with, we have been tempted lo present the 
rollonring feeble version of ii : 

"No! by the momiiiK'ssplendour— No! by 

the frown of night — 
Thy omnipotent defender will not desert the 

Tbo' present sorrows rend thee, the future 

brings their balm ; 
High destinies attend thee, be thankful and 

By him hast thou been cherished, an orphan 

in ihr youth, 
An iolidel ttimr'dBt perished had he not taught 

thee truth. 
His bounteous hsnd has freed thee from 

poverty and scorn. 
Then do thou relieve tne needy, do thou the 

thoughtless warn-" 

These espresaJona, however, were but mo- 
mentary — Mahomet had staked too much on 
his pretensions to su&er his own conviction 
to be shaken. In chnpters 68, 111, 101, 
102, 104, 109, and the continuation of 74, 
we find him maintaining his sacred charac- 
ter to its utmost height — somelimea con- 
soling his animosity with mysterious bints of 
future and ineviiahle retribution, and some. 
times relieving his passion in the terrific 
outpourings of a prophet's curse. In chapter 
74 his anger adopts a. utrain of personal ridi- 
cule, which the striking singularity of man- 
ner can hardly redeem from the character 
of satire. 

"Yes— he considered and he plotted— 
curse him how he plotted. Ave, curse him 
how he plotted — then he looked, then he 
frowned, and looked grave — then he turned 
away in bis pride and said, what is this but a 
charm that is repeated, what is this but the I 
speech of a man?" '■ 

The classical reader will readily recall 
the comic scenes which occur in the Greek 
tragedies, and wonder to find hovr natural in 
the simplicity of early composition is ihe 
union of the grotesque with (he impassioned. ' 
h is important lo observe what at this 
early period was the devotional discipline 
which Mahomet imposed on his followers 
himself, and some may be surprised to learn 
that it was marked with the blindest zeal of 
fanaticism. From chaplei 73 we find that 
the prophet and his scanty train of believers 
were iu the habit of devoting half the night 
to prayer and religious modilatioo ; and a 
permission is there given to relax somewhat 
of this unnatural austerity,, from which it ap- 
pears their health and spirits had begun to 
' On the strength of the only conjectures' 

t)u Compoatioit <^f the KortoM. ■ 

applicable to the case, we should venture to 
place the chapters from fil to fi6, from 63 
to 92, together with the 77ih, 99th, and 
100th, next in the order of composition. 
They are of all the moat vivid in conception, 
and the moat finished in style ; and Mahomet 
in other chapters i;^jects with indignation the 
name of poet, lo which none but these would 
seem to entitle him. Devoid of any attempts 
lo reason with his adversaries, they seem 
adapted only to the early period of his self, 
taught ministry. Their constant theme la 
the truth of the Korann — the powere, the 
mercy of God — the terrora of the last day— 
and the fate of the obedient and disobedient 
after it. These topics indeed prevail in 
every chapter of the whole, but they were 
afterwards mingled with others, which we 
shall soon have occasion to notice. 

The truth of the Korann is generally 
affirmed on the strength of the Almighty's 
oath. '*By all that produces — by all that 
bears — by all that moves — and by all that 
distributes, what is promised to thee is verily 
true — this faith comes from heaven," (chap. 
51. J In the profuse fertility of his imagina- 
tion the writer sometimes crowds poetic 
images of the highest order into these pre- 
liminary asseverations. The classical or the 
sacred reader will perhaps be glad to com> 
pare the horses of Mahomet with those of 
Homer or of Job. " By the horses running 
wild and snorting — kindling the earth with 
the sparks they elicit — vying with each other 
in the freshness of morning — obscuring its 
splendour with the dust they raise — and 
rushing into the midst of it themselves." 
(chap. 100.) His descriptions of the last 
day are seldom below the Scriptures from 
which they are borrowed. 

Cap. 99.—" When the earth shall tremble 
violently and shake off her burdens, men 
shall say what has come to it 1 Then shall 
she declare her tidings, for that the Lord 
hath communicated them to her," 

Cap- Bl. — " When the sun abalt waver, the 
stars be obscured, and Ihe mountains be mov- 
ed — when the camel shall forget her young, 
and Ihe beasis shall run togetner — when the 
sea shall boil — when souls shall be united— 
when the heavensahall be taken away— Hell 
be kindled and Paradise brought near." 

Cap, 14— "On that day the eyes of men 
shall gaze fearfully, dejected, cowering ; not 
an eye shall wink ; their hearts shall be a 

The Paradise of Mahomet is familiar to 
every one's imagination, hut the inquisitive 
render will find the moat comprehensive re- 
presentation of it in chapters 32 and 37, 
The passages relating to the inferno are 
ihose which do the least credit lo the feelings 
if not the abilities of Mahomet.' The utter 


Vitm ami MjeeU of MatumtH» 


helplemen of umd Kinidit the wrodi of 
Wbrldi, the ooDMeniKlion of the muI when 
atandiog in the Mosible presence of an infi- 
ntte Creator, are lopiea on whioh no mao 
sbould prestnne to inmitt uiotber. With a 
minuteosBB that ia ofieoBtve And on avidity 
that is shocking, he dwells on every refine- 
ment of torture (hat human fiuicy can depict. 
The absorbing terror, the excruciating mis- 
ery, the Tain repentance, the prayers, the 
struggles, the shrieks of the damned, it seems 
to have been hia delight rather than his hor- 
ror, to contemplate. With & repulsive in. 
consistency he even makea it one of the oe- 
cupations if not amneeinents of the blessed, 
to acnltinize the scene of torment and ob- 
serve their former acquaintance in the midst 
of it. That his ostensible object in framing 
these fictions was to rescue his countrymen 
from the reality will not relieve him in the 
opinion of the metaphysician, from the re- 
proach of those darker touches, which fancy, 
unassisted by passion, could never have pro- 
duced. His real defence must be sought in 
the exasperations to which lie was hourly ex- 
posed, and the natural vindictiveness which 
belonged to him as an Arab. It will be seen 
when the time comes for observing it, that 
malignity was not among his feiliius; or— 
a far greater praise — that if it hacT been, it 
was not indulged. 

From these artless effusions of fancy and 
of feeling we pass to others more calculated 
to persuade. Qiapters 7, IB, 14, 10, 30, 
21, 19 and 27, may be taken as fair and suf- 
ficient specimens of the bulk of the Korann. 
From tbeir vicinity to the Jews and the 
strict connection which had formerly subsist- 
ed between the two people, the Arabs had 
derived much traditional knowledge, and 
much fanciful superstition. The stories of 
the ancient patriarchs were familiar to their 
imaginations ; and they perceived or thought 
they perceived in various catastrophes that 
had formerly befallen the most flouriahing of 
their own tribes, similar instances of divine 
guidance and divine punishment. From the 
obstinate incredulity with which all recorded 
messages of God to man had been received, 
Mahomet must have drawn his earliest sup- 
port under the staggering opposition which 
he met with, and he naturally used the con- 
sideration to produce in others the same con- 
viction it had afforded to him. With fond 
periioacity he every where recounts (he mis- 
sions of every prophet from Noah to Jesus, 
and the punishment of those by whom they 
were rejected. Identifying his own situa- 
tion with that of the sacred warners, he 
sought to drive hia deapisers into identifying 
thein with that of the vainly- warned. His 
imagination here got the better of his pru- 

decoe, and the modem inquirer makes it a 
serious objection to the truth of his mission, 
that be incessantly threatened what was nev. 
er sufficiently accomplished. 

This, though his principal argument, is not 
his only one. The Coreysh had asked, how 
the orphan son of Abdaliah, whom for forty 
years they had known only to disregard 
should suddenly become the bearer of heav- 
en's commands to (hem 1 With equal skill 
and efeet he wrests his antagonists' weapon 
from their hands and uses it against them- 
selves. '* If^" replies he, "I have lived so 
long an unpretending citizen, wherefore 
should I pretend now 1 and if I have been 
hitherto undistinguished, where have I at 
once acquired the ener^es I now display T" 
The Korann, by a parity of reason, is assim- 
ilated to the booksof former prophets, which 
tile Araln enumerate to an extravagant 
amount ; bat his favourite and most frequent 
argument is its inimitability. In the height of 
hia confidence he extends the challenge to 
the invisible powers of genii and demons ; 
and the weary student wonders to find (he 
whole truth of the mission ataked, and stak. 
ed successfally, on the impossibility of equal- 
ling a single passage. How far this vaunt 
is borne out by the actual merits of the work 
it is difficult to say, as no native critic can 
be an unprejudiced one. Thefact that noth- 
ing equal was produced seems staggering ; 
and yet we learn from the book itself that 
its decriers always asserted it to be nowise 
beyond the standard of human invention ; it 
ia easily conceivable that pride or liitteas* 
ness may have restrained them from the con. 
test, even if no diffidence in their own pow. 
era would else have induced them to decline 
it> Among other of tbeirobjections we find 
from chap. 2S, that they accused Mahomet 
of being assisted in its composition by some 
one, who, we learn from the answer, was a 
foreigner. Maraccius, Frideaux, and other 
polemical decriers have seized hold of this 
circuntstance tO deprive him of the honour 
of originality, fbrgetting that no foreigner 
could supply more than the matter, and that 
the merit of the Korann lies in its style and 
spiHl. Hod their attention been as great as 
their virulence, they might have drawn from 
the Koraim itself more satisfactory evidence 
on this point than can possibly be afforded 
by the casual allegation of his adversaries. 
It is thronged with imitations of Scripture 
from Geneaia to the Revelations ; and Ma- 
homet being totally illiterate himself, must 
have learned these original passages from 
others. He was in the hsbit, it appears, of 
listening to two Chriatian youths, shopkeeo- 
ers of Mecca, who used to read the Bible 
aloud, while sitting in the streets. This 


i^ C owpawfon of the Korann, 


trolnbly contributed &au the Sen to inflanie 
ia imsgiDation, and raise in him the fraotio 
piety which lifted bitn above biniMlf. 

Many lacred legends will be found from 
which no particular inference seems to be 
drawn or iDtende<i, and it appeara, therefore, 
to have been one o£ the auutor'a objects to 
draw together every treditioa that was hke- 
ly to impose od his bearen. and by making 
the work a receptacle of all that was boly, 
to raise a presumption that it was holy itself. 
From the 16th obapter, which ia entirely of 
this nature, we extract one of the very few 
passagea which ia likely to interest the cur- 
Bory reader ; 

'■ Then ther found one of our aervants to 
whom we had been graciousi and given him 
lostructioo fromourselveS' Hoses said, may 
I fililowthee. that thou mayeat instruct me in 
some ot what thou art directed in 1 He said, 
thou wilt not be able to bear with me ; how 
should you bear with what you do not com- [ 
ptehenal He replied, thou shalt find me' 
patient, I will not be disobedient in aught- 
He said, then if thou followest me, ask not | 
of any thing until 1 mention it to thee. So| 
they went on, till they entered a boat which i 
he split Have you split It, cried Moses,! 
that you may drown the owners of it T You ' 
have done a strange ihiriK' Did I not tell 
thee, said he, that ibou couldest not bear with 
me 1 Chide me not, said Moses, in that I 
forget; and be not harsh at my behaviour. 
Then they went on till they met a child, 
which tie killed. What, ezclairned Moees, 
have you killed an innocent person without 
his having killed another I truly you have 
done a grievous deed. Did I nottell you, bo 
laid, you could not bear with me ! Moses 

replied, if 1 a^you about any thing after | 
this, take me with you no longer, verily my 
excuses are sincere. So they went on till 

they came to a village, where they asked its 
inmaies for refreshment, but they refused to 
entertain them, and they found in it a wall 
that was about to tumble, and he set it 
straight. If you pleased, said Hoses, you 
might here requite them. This, said the ho- 
ly man, is aseparaliontwtween thee and me; 
but I will explain to tbee that wbkh thou 
couldest not near with. The boat belonged 
to some poor people who labour on the sea, 
and I wished to injure it, because a tyrant 
was in search of them who takes every ves- 
sel by force. As to the child, his parents 
were righteous, and I feared he would afflict 
them with his unrullnesa and impiety, and I 
wished the Lord migbtgtve them m exchange 
a better tlian he, innocent and dutiful. The 
wall was the property of two children, or- 
phans in thecity,and t>eneBthil waaa hidden 
treasure l>elongiQK to them ; and their father 
was righteous, ttierefore the Lord wished 
that tbuy should arrive at maturity and 
obtain tneir treasure, a tender mercy from 
the Lord. Idldit not of my own suggestion. 
This is the exnlanation ol what you could 

nnl hamw with '' 

But the line of Vfimmaot adopted by Ma. 
bomet involved him in difficulties which 
mora than outbalanced the advantages he 
derived from it. The miracles performed 
by the sacred characters to wtiom he strove 
to assimilate himself^ formed the most strikr 
ing part of their historiest and he was nat- 
urelly ui^d by those whom h* addressed to 
bring the same proof of his divine commis- 
sion. His continual and contradictory ex- 
cuses on this point form a leading topic of 
the work, and prove how much vexation it 
occasioned him> He often contents himself 
with expatiating on the inscrutable ways (J 
Ood till he loses sight of the question. 
Sometimes he assures them that they would 
be unable to endure the terrors they de- 
manded. Sometimes that they were too ob- 
stinate to be affected by them, His adver- 
saries saw their advantage, and daily in the 
streets of Mecca the preacher was surround, 
ed and interrupted oy scofiers, who defied 
him to overwhelm thwn with the vengeance 
be predicted. " I am a preacher, not aa 
angel," was the disconsolate reply. '■ Ven. 
geaace will come with the hour appointed 
by God — tbat hour none can accelerate, any 
more than they can avert it when it arrives." 
Here, however, waa another difficulty. In ' 
his unbounded jealousy for the glory of God, 
Mahomet asserted the doctrine of predesti- 
nation in its utmost strictness, and even while 
reproaching his hearers for their incredulity, 
he inconsistently assured them that belief 
and disbelief were the immediate effects of 
divine agency. In one of the chapters 
above noticed, be will be found vainly en- 
deavouring to solve the problem by which 
the vastest intellects of every other age and 
country hove been baffled and bewildered. 

If the reader supposes these arguments tu 
have been advanced, or these disputes car. 
ried on, in any connected form, or with any 
logical precision, he has a very imperfect no- 
tion of the Korann, where every proposition 
is involved andentangled in the fury oi'denun- 
ciation, or the rhapsody of piety and praise : 

"God's treasures are the secret stores, Done 

knows of them but He ; 
To Him each atom stands revealed, in earth, 

or in the sea ; 
'Tls He that steals thy soul at night, and 

watches thee by '- 
id guides thee still 

how you may." 

Such are the incoherent, and often im- 
pressive ravings which form the ground- 
work of the whole text. But the more mys- 
tic fancies prevalent among his countrymen 
were too congenial to the enthusiasm and 
character of Mahomet, and too conducive 

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Vietu and Objttti ofMeAttmet tn 

to the aid be nought, not to find a place. 
The secrat inspection of angelic raiaisttira 
—the inviaible crowds of genii, that thronged 
alik« the wilderness and the city — ihe im- 
perceptible energies and inticrutable essences 
of the animal and material worlds — are to- 
pics he delighta to dwell on. In the wild. 
nesa of his fanatic fancy he sought till he 
imagined be had found, among these mj'ste. 
rious beinga, the kindly reception he in vain 
solicited irom bis fellow men. The genii, 
be affirmed, had beard and believed ; and 
his idle hearers recoiled around him as they 
were told of the airy beings even then throng- 
ing to listen to bis words. In chapters 40, 
60, and 73, the reader will find enough to 
gratify his curiosity on this subject. 

The precepts and regulations of Mahomet 
will generally be of a later dale than his 
mere exhortations, since tbey imply that he 
gained attentive and zealous bearers. They 
will be found in chapters 6, 20, 46, 31, 17, 
26, 30, 70, and 42. The two first, being of | 
a general and prohibitory nature, may per- 1 
h^ra have been among the earliest com- 
posed, but, for the sake of classilicatioLi, wi^ 
have preferred noticing them with the rest. I 
Oy no European writer has the demoraliza- 
tion of the Arabs at that period been ade- 1 
quatcly described- In addition to the tawleu ' 
and ferocious habits which seem inseparable ! 
from the peculiariiiea of the country ihey 
inhabit, ihey lived in the grossest supersti- j 
tions, and in the habitual violation of the ; 
plainest rules of domestic morality. Ouided 
in every important contingency of life by 
superstitious fancies, they seem only to have 
exercised free-will when roused by anger or 
solicited by cupidity. This extreme of men- 
tal debasement produced, as is usual, the 
opposite excess in the more enlightened few; 
and wc find Mahomet, induced by the scep- 
ticism of some among hia adversaries, lo 
argue repeatedly on the abstract possibility 
of resurrection afttr death. His moral in- 
structions were well suited, by their simpli- 
city, lo reform the perverted feelings of his 
countrymen, and many rude converts to the 
beauly of truth ignornntiy ascribed to him 
the excellences that in reality belonged to 
his doctrine- Besides the prohibition of in- 
tereal, (a law adopted on misajiprehension 
from the Jewish code) his rales merely cm- 
body those broad principles of rectitude 
which the unperverted reason of man must 
universally acknowledge. They form, it 
must be observed, a very small part even of 
the few chapters in which they occur — not 
being in their nature adapted to the amplifi- 1 
cation in which he was, on other topicd, so i 
fond of mdulging in. The internal rules he 
prescribed to his followers were likewise of I 


nec«sBity few and simple, since their number 
was not yet sufficient to require more, and 
his attention was engrossed in the endeavour 
to increase it. 

We have already remarked the excessive 
austerity of devotion which he at first en. 
joined, and in chapter 20 we findjiim again 
exhorted not to distress himself in bia reli. 
giouB service. As his experience increased, 
and his enthusiasm was diverted into another 
channel by the opposition he bad to encoun- 
ter, he adopted a course better suited to the 
infirmities of mankind. Three hours were 
appointed for prayer ; the two twilights and 
the first watch of the night : — the tioon and 
ailemoon prayers, which complete the five, 
were not added till af\er the Higera. 

The only particular of ritual devotion he 
as yet insisted on, was the annual pilgrimage 
to the Caaba. The ceremonials prescribed 
un this occasion are detailed in chapters 23 
and 2. Mahomet's motives in confirming 
this singular practice have oflen been mis- 
understood. Savary supposes him to have 
I been guided by political considerations ; and, 
in pjint of fact, the periodical assemblage of 
. the discordant tribes of Arabia, at this com- 
' mon object ol their veneration, would do 
much towards soflening their mutual animo- 
sities, and strengthening the resources of the 
country by combination. Sale imagines 
that he himself was averse to the practice, 
on account of the superstitions that had 
mingled with it, but that he was compelled 
to sacrifice his own inclinations to the over- 
powering prejudices of his countrymen. In 
this supposition he is countenanced by the 
fact, that the first chapter in which it is ac- 
tually prescribed was revealed only a short 
time previous to Ihe Higera. But Mahomet 
seems, on every other occasion, to have 
been so entirely guided by religious feeling', 
and to have so sternly resisted the slightest 
compromise with any thing his conscience 
condemned, that we are compelled to seek 
some more satisfitctory solution of the 

Let us hear him speak for himself. — "To 
(ivery sect have we appointed a place of 
sacrifice — where they might call upon the 
name of God over what he has bestowed on 
them of animals and cattle." Here be evi* 
dently alludes to the temple ot Jerusalem, 
and the three great feasts, at which all the 
males among the Jews were bound to appear 
there before the Lord. And this is not the 
only pariicular in which he seems to have 
borrowed from the Mosaic ritual, for no other 
reason than because it was a divine one. 
The tradition, too, which referred the build- 
ing of the Caaba to Abraham, and which is 
fully recognised by ihe prophet ia chapters 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

/Ae ComfoailiaH of the K^cmm. 

14 and 2, g&ve it a specific sanctity in his 
own eyes, which probably prevented him 
from inquiring into the causes or effects of 
its being similarly regarded by others. 

The injuQctions most frequently repeated 
throughout tliase chapters relate to a point 
of considerable importance — the intercourse 
of liis followers with the unbelievers. Men 
of rude intellects are more influenced by 
feelings than by reason ; and the prophet 
therefore prohibited them from forming or 
indulging in friendship wilh (he unconverted. 
Ridicule, the sharpest weapon to which feel- 
ing can be opposcHl, waii all in the handa of 
their adversaries ; and consequently his dis- 
ciples were forbidden to engage in disputes. 

It must not be forgotten thst many expres- 
sions and ideas are borrowed, and many 
I passages copied from the Jewish and Chris- 
tian Scriptures ; snd (he Korann, formed 
upon both, may be considered as occupying 
a middle place between the two. Mahomet 
himself at flrst practised as well as recom- 
mended much of the meeki)^ ss and humility 
of the Gospel. " Be gentle towards (hose 
believers that follow thee ; and if they are 
unruly, say. Verily I am blameless in what 
you do." (chap. 26.) During a period of 
ten years that he was exposed to daily in- 
sult and daily peril, he never once offered 
(o repel by violence the violence that he en- 
dured. But the hatred and ferocity of his 
enemies drove him to the policy which 
changed the history of the world. The 
fierceness of Hamza and the zeal of All 
scorned to acquiesce in a doctrine of sub- 
mission ; and on one or two occasions, when 
their sacred reladve had been treated with 
more than wonted indignity, they took thi 

excited expectation even where they fkiled 
of credence — which, however, they often 
obtained, A king of Ethiopia dispatched a 
present to ihe prophet, and declared himself 
a believer. An ambassador, who arrived on 
a public mission, had the curiosity to visit 
the man of whom he had heard so much; 
and, aAer a short coaversation, espoused his 
faith, which he promulgated among hia coun- 
trymen on his return. The different feelings 
entertained towards him within and without 
of Mecca, must have forcibly struck the pro- 
phet, and matured the latent resentment 
which ten years of patience had nursed. The 
country seemed ripe for change. The high 
destinies he had promised himself were at 
hand, ond he might now flatter himself, with- 
out extravagance, with the hope of fulfilling 
his sncred mission. But Mecca stood as a 
blot on the &ir picture. What wonder if 
he panted to wash it away ! Fiercer thoughts 
mingled wilh his holy dreams — the interests 
of his religion, he might say, were chan^d 
— the policy of it must be changed likewise. 
Other circumstances contributed to confirm 
(rain of thought. Ahulaiib, 
though an infidel, his moat powerful friend 
and protector, had died, and the violence of 
his enemies was proportionably augmented. 
Hia wife, Khadijeh, whose confidence had 
supported him in his misgivings, and whose 
affection had soothed him lu his humiliations, 
was now no more — and nightly the prophet 
returned from a hating city to a lonely ho(ne. 
The exasperated stale of his feelings may be 
traced in chapter 36, of all others the most 
pregnant with resentment against his adver- 
saries, and the most calculated to excite a 
similar feeling among his followers. Chap- 

liberty of signally avenging him. The feel- , ter 23 had pointed to the sword, but chapter 

ings of the man were too strong for those of 
the pro[^eL Mahomet allowed the act to 
pass uncensured. The noble pair became 
his defenders on every emergency, and the 
comfort of such a safeguard grew the more 
indiapensable the more i( was enjoyed. By 
chapter 23 the divine sanction was given, for 
the first time, to a hostile principle ; " Repel 
evil by whatever means are best." How 
widely such a precept may be interpreted it 
is needless to observe. The rule (^endur- 
ance being once departed from, the mutual 
animosity of the parties necessarily led to 
the opposite excess. The hardships to which 
the early converts were exposed in Mecca 
had induced them, by Mahomet's advice, to 
seek security elsewhere ; dispersing through- 
out the surrounding country, they carried 
wilh them, wherever they went, the story of 
their prophet's sanctity, and (in their eyes) 
the proof of his inspiration. The contagion 
of enthusiasm and the beauties of the Korann 
VOL, xxir. 3 

42 took it up — reven^ of injuries is there 
reckoned among the virtues of a believer. 

Could (he Ck)rBysh hnve moderated their 
animosity, Mahomet, thwarted and ineelised 
as he was, might ttill have been reluctant to 
leave the holy city of his afiections and his 
faith — he might have lived, tolerated by some 
and revered by others, till the spirit of his 
party — perhaps his own — burnt feebly and 
faintly to a close. Unfortunately he waf 
forced into immediate contact with his par- 
tizans. The Coreysh, tired of the disorden 
they experienced in iheir own city.and alarm, 
ed at the hostile feeling of the surrounding 
country, resolved lo take his lite. The time, 
place, and manner of executing iheir purpose 
was agreed on. Mahomet obtained intelli- 
gence of it — published the versos of the 22d 
chapter, inculcating resistance against per. 
secution, and flight, for the free exercise of 
religion, and escaped wiUi difficulty to Me. 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Viewtand (Hjeetiif Sthlumtl in 


l^is city, the most populous of Hijaz, 
was siluated in the heart of ihe couniry 
where Mahomet's name had been celebrated 
and his faith diSused by hia disciples ; and 
in this he was received with univeraa! ea- 
thusiasin as a prophet and a prince. Hiii 
confidence was restored and hia conviciion 
strengihened by the mulliluJe of thoae who 
believed ; and what before might have been 
the doublful whispering of desponding fanaii- 
cism, now assumed the decisive tone of cer- 
tainty, when echoed by the ready cTedence 
of thousands. Thus it was that the in- 
creduliiy of his enemies appeared the more 
unreasonable and the more criminal, at the 
Tery moment when they had raised hia re- 
seaiment to ita utmost height. The result 
was the 47th chapter of the Korann, in 
which war to extermination is openly de- 
clared against all the enemies of his faiih- 
The conaternation of bis followers cannot 
be bettor represented than ia the words of 
the chapter itself; "They stared oa thee 
with the stare of a dying man." From this 
time the Korann is a code of law, and a law , 
of blood. Chapters 01, 2, 65. 8,57,60,62,1 
6it, 84, 102, 3, 5S, 69. 4, 16 and 5, are j 
■uccaasive and pretty clear records of the 
policy pursued by Mnhumet during the tirst | 
five yeara, nitd the auccess wuh which ii 
was attended. It will evidently he impossi- . 
ble lo comprise within the limils ol ihis arti-' 
cle. even the moai cursory review of his i 
civil TCgulationa. and our attenlion will ne. 
cessarily be confined to the leading circum- 1 
■tpncea and prominent feelinga of the period < 
in which ihey were produced. It would bo 
expected from the Energy of the prophet's 
character, that when he had once recognised 
war aa a principle of religion, he would take 
the most decided meana fjr prosecuting it 
whh eSl'cl ; and accordingly, far the greater 
part of the Medinian chapters are devoted to 
this purpose. All the imlimited resources 
of divine approbation and displeasure are 
exhausted in aniioating his followers — hut 
the ardour which carried ihem lo the field 
could not support them while they were 
there. A thousand expenses were to be 
defrayed ; — unable to meet Ihem himself. 
Mahomet reanrted to reiigioua contributions 
and loans without interest. From one or 
other of these species of co-operation no 
one was excused, but Ihoso who were tpo 
poor to give and too weak to fight. The 
men who, satisfied with the (ruth of his re- 
ligion, would have sat down quietly lo en. 
joy the profession of it, and left ita farther 
propagation to the Almighty Being whose 
care it might be supposed to be, are stigma- 
tized as hypocrites and reviled as cowurds. 
In these precepts, the results entirely of 

Mahomet's necessities, we iraice the origin 
of the feelings and defects which hsve al- 
ways prevailed in Mahommedan society. 
From the violent and continual excitements 
to wor, they derived their restless and in- 
dnmiiable ferocity. From the assurance of 
divine guidance and favour, arose their per- 
sonal pride and intolerance and tbeir abject 
submission to their rulers. 

If the Arahs hail heard with dismay their 
prophet's declnratioc of war againai the 
world, it was owing to ita extent rather than 
its nature. With that singular and un. 
changing people rapine has always been a 
legitimate means of subsistence, and war 
and rapine synonymous terms : it is not 
then surprising that they gladly embraced a 
principle so congenial to their characters 
and interests. Indeed, from Mahomet's 
inveighing so repeatedly aa he dues, again&t 
the lukewarm, the worldly-minded, ihe 
hypocritical, ond the refractory, it would 
seem that the majority of hia newly-acquired 
followera were more influenced by that part 
I of his religion than by any other. This was 
I particularly the case with the rougher tribes 
jof ihe deaen, who are more than onccde. 
signaled as peculiarly atupid and unfi;eling. 
I In the aimplicity of their hearts somo of 
them had ventured to require the tepaymeot 
. of the luans ihey had made. It ia amusing 
.enough lo observe the indignation with 
I whicli the prophet alludes to the circunn. 

I After a sorlea of skirmishes they had the 
good' fortune to surprise a rich caravan and 
defeat a superior force which marched to 
ita relief — but the corneal had been severe, 
and in the ardour of their gratitude ihey at- 
tributed to the succour of angels what was 
really the efiect of their own bravery and 
desperation. An anecdote follows, without 
parallel in the annals of self-deception. 
The prisoners wero the former persecutors 
of Ihe prophet, and it might have been ex- 
pected that he would not omit to practise the 
virtue he had inculcated — revenge— but he 
dismissed them on ransoming themselves ; 
and soon nf\er being found in tears, he pro- 
duced the following passages (chap. 6), and 
informed his friends that they had narrowly 
escaped being destroyed by God. (ogeiher 
with himself, for this unseasonable clem- 

■' The prophet may not keep prisoners 
till be shall have destroyed (unbelievers) 
throughout the earth." 

Captives, however, were allowed the option 
of becoming Moalima before execution. 
And ami 


lAe^ComponftM of ikf. Korann. 

"Say to those who reject thee. If they^ 
will repent, what Ib paat shall be rorgiTen 
them; but if they return to their trans- 
gresiiions the example of former agi 
before thee. — Stay them till there is do re- 
aittance; and all religion is to God." 

That this nras the syatenn best adapted to 
tecure the triumph of hia faith there can be 
no doubt, an4 the story plainly ahowa how 
Btricily Mahomet considered his duty to be 
confined to what was so. This is the first 
passage thai intiroalea any anticipation of the 
future extent of his spiriluat empire — but it 
stiems TQlher to have originated in the exul- 
tation of recent victory, than in any sober 
and unalterable conviction. In the neii 
year the Moslims were totally defeated at 
Ohad, — Mahomet himself waa severely 
wounded, and narroivly escaped with life. 
Among the many contradictory excuses by 
which he strove, in chapter 3, to reconcile 
this untoward event with his promises and 
bis pretensions, the reader will observe with 
satisfaction that he never once alludes to any 
certain and definite hopes of the future. He 
seems to have accounted for it in bis own 
mind by supposing it to be a trial of his fol- 
lowers' sincerity; but in his eagerness to 
relieve their apprehensions he rings the 
changes on every imaginable topic appli. 
cible to the occasion, with a harried incon- 
sistency that sufficiently marks his anxiety 
and embarrassment. 

This WHS the only check (if ws except the 
doubtful war of the Ditch, spoken of in chap- 
ter 33) which Mahomet met whh, and this 
bis energy and abilities soon retrieved. 
Not a year passed without the reduction or 
submission of some hostile tribe. Though' 
commanded to kill and slay, and spare not, I 
he seems to ha've considered himself suihor- 1 
ized to treat on less sanguinary terms, and 
some of his enemien were allowed <o remove 
unmolested from his dmgerous vicinity. 
Treachery and breach of faith, however, he 
never pardoned, and the entire massacre of a 
Jewish tribe that had revolted, is a terrible 
instance of the severity he thought himself 
bound to exercise on such occasions. 
• Many passages, relating both to Jews and 
Christians, are to boi found in all the Me. 
dinian chapters; and his conduct towards 
both people is sufficient to show that hostili- 
ty in general was no farther his object than 
as he was prompted to it by his religious 
persuasions. Appealing as he did to their 
Scriptares, as the foundation and the proof 
of his own prophetic ofGce, the idolaters of 
Mecca had considered him from the begin- 
ning as a Jewish or Christian sectarian. 
Far from wishing to disown the connection, 
he made every attempt to strengthen it by 

conversion from those sects. But tbe hopes 
he entenained on this subject never prevent- 
ed him from inveighing against what he 
termed their departure from the original 
purity of their respective faiths. The 
Christian tenets in particular were the sub* 
ject of his repeated and most violent viinper. 
aliens, from the grossness which the in- 
sufBcit'ncy of language renders unavoidable 
in expressing them. 

"They have said, the Everlasting bath 
lakentobiraself aSoo. — Verily you approach 
a tremendous subject It wuiued but litila 
that the heavens had cracked, tbe earth split, 
and the mountains crumbled to the dust — lor 
that they named a Son to the Everlasting.— 
It Buileih not the Everlasting to take to him- 
self a Bon ; for all that is in earth and heav- 
en, doth it not crouch to him 1" — Chap. 1& 

Their morality, how-ever, be warmly ad. 

Ired; and it cannot escape an impailian 
observer, that up to the period when ha was I 
driven by his enemies to adopt the severity 
of the Pentateuch, his own precepts are en- 
tirely fbrmed on the mild spirit of the Gos- 
pel; while the personal character and sa- 
cred ofGce of Christ are invested in the third 
and other chapters with every attribute which, 
short of divinity, it is possible to bestow. Oa 
his arrival at Medina the Jews, who formed 
a very strong party both in the city and 
its vicinity, met all nis overtures with the 
most determined opposition. They seduced 
his followers, openly ridicnled his preten- 
sions, treated him with personal disrespect. 
and look every opportunity to unite with his 
assailants. The angry observations and 
strict injunctions which this conduct produc- 
ed, arc too frequent not to be observed — but , 
it is pleasing to remark, that in the 5th and 
9lh chapters, the latest that were produced, 
long after Mahomet must have given np alt 
hopes of overcoming Christian faith and 
Jewish obstinacy, he recognizes their claim 
to brotherhood as a scriptural people — al- 
lows bis followers to eat the same food, at 
the same table — and exempts them from the 
general rule of extermination by allowing 
iribjle in place of conformity. 

The same eonaciouaoess of divine inspe^ 
lion, and the same reference of every pro- 
vision to the interests of religion, are observ- 
able throughout. " I have seen," says Ma- 
homet, in the pious exultation of success, " I 
have seen men embrace the laith of God in 
crowds. Then celebrate the glory of ihy 
God, and pray to Him for mercy; verily he 
is willing to listen," 

Observe this prsyer which concludes his 
first attempt at legislation. — Did human 
language ever breathe a deeper and more 

I ctizedbyGoOgIc 

Yiewt and ObjtcU of Mahomet ta 


"To GodbelonKiall, iobeavenandMrth; 
Bud whether you show what is in your 
thoughts or conceal it, he will lay it alilte to 
your account ; for his power is unlimited. 

" The prophet haa believed in what was re- 
TCftled to him, and all the faithful believe in 
God— in Ihe angels, the scriptures, and the 
propheto, among whom is no variance ; and 
aay, we have heard and obeyed ; merciful 
art Thou, O Lord ; unto Thee shall we be 

" God will not require of any but accord- 
ing to hispowbr; toBachaball he what he 

E lined, and on each what be incurred- Thou, 
ord, wilt Dot scan too nicely our neglects 
or our offences. Thou wilt not load us with 
a covenant as thou loadesi thoM before us — 
Thou wilt not put upon us what wa cannot 
bear. — Thou wilt snare ut— Thou wiit for- 
give us.— Thou wilt pity ua. — Thou art our 
God. Oh, defend lu against the unbeliev- 
ing." — Chap. 2. 

In another chapter, where he ia desiring 
bis followers to avoid disputes with the Jews 
and Christians, he tells ibem, when pressed 
on points of failh, to submit the question to a 
divineordeal. The disputants were lo kneel 
down with their wives and children and in- 
voke the curse of God upon ibe erring 
puty — what a singular contrast between the 
strength of his conviction and tlie weakness 
of his cause I— The pretensions are unfit for 
belief ttiBt will not bear discuaiion — and yet 
the man who in an ignorant and euperstitioux 
age could solemnly submit a claim of inspir- 
ation lo the immediate judgment of God, 
ifi7ST have believed all that he averred. 

We now arrive at those singular and im- 
portant chapters, 49, 33, 24, and 66, from 
which it seems evident that whatever may 
. have been Mahomet's own opinion of the 
impulses by which ha was conducted, they 
bad really oo deeper or holier origin than 
his own bosom. While at Mecca, he had 
CODStantly disclaimed any other authority 
over his followers than that which ihe sacred 
duty of admonition might give bim : but six 
years of absolute powerand continued auccess 
oad altered his tone. His followers are now 
familiarly as they would to each olher ; thai 
they are not to raise their voices in his 
presence, nor call to him when he wishea to 
be private; that they are not lo enter his 
house unbidden, nor to discourse on ordi. 
nary topics while they are there ; and laatly, 
that DO one is to have a will of his own when 
the Prophet's pleasure bos been declared. 
It will not escape the reader that all ihe^etri- 
bnlea of respect are necessary consequences 
of Mahomet's general pretensions. It ia his 
jeolouay in insisting on ihera and producing 
the divine mandate for their observance, 
which betrays the exacting feelings of earth- 


ly authority. The 33d chapter furnishea 
us with a itili heavier charge. In a casual 
visit Mahomet was smitten with the charms 
of Zinaba, the wife of his freedman Zeid. 
The affectionate follower balanced not a 
moment between his own inclinations end 
those of his friend . and master. Zinaba 
was divorced 1^ Zeid, and married by 
Mahomet. But Zeid having been previ- 
ously adopted by Mahomet, the marriage, 
by the existing lawa of Arabia, was m- 
ceatuous. This lo a Prophet was a tri- 
fling objection ^ the laws that mdde it so 
were condemned and abrogated; and the 
hesitating UosUma were assured by the word 
of God that Mahomet was irreproachable. 
Yet even this was not enough. The legal 
number of wives to which the faithful were 
to confine themselves bad been fixed at four ; 
the Prophet, however, is exempted from this 
and every other restiiciion on nis connubial 
caprices; while his harem is secured from 
the attempts or wishes of his folloivera by 
the divine declaration, that the Prophet's 
wives must be regarded as mothers by the 
rest. This revolting interposilion of heaveo 
in his domestic arrangements is carried a 
step farther ; and the word of God is at last 
employed to reprehend two of his wives — 
for resenting, with the sacred prideot women, 
nn act of infidelity in which they bad detect- 
ed him. 

It would be well iftfae effect of Mahomet's 
weaknesa in all (bat concerned his favourite 
passion had been confined to the days in 
which he lived ; but society still suffers from 
another instance of it. His favourite wife 
Ayesha had been separated from the camp, 
under circumstances which gave him much 
uneasiness; from this he was letieved by 
the 24th chapter, which assured him of her 
innocence, and ordained that no respectable 
female should suffer in character till four 
witnesses could be found to depose to the 
fact; and any one who called it in qnestion 
on insufficient grounds was lo be publicly 
scourged. A worse law was never promuN 
gated. No woman who ia criminal enough 
to bring herself under its scope, will be 
clumsy enough to allow these means of proof 
to be forthcomins. The offence is neces- 
sarily secret; and suspicion, instead of mer- 
iting the scourge, is a useful substitute for 
Ihe legal punishment that must generally 
be escaped. Such as it was, however, it 
was most unjustly enforced in the very rase 
that suggested it; and the stripes of Ayesha's 
accusers furnished a most edifying and con- 
vincing-evidence of her innocence. Yet ihe 
Moslima confess that the moat virulent was 
suffered to escape, because he was a person 
of consideration and influence; so incon- 



At Ccn^NMittox ^ tha Kormuu 


ceivable are the iDCODsistencies wbioh fana- 
ticism can reconcile lo iuelf. 

U there were evei moments in which, ac- 
cording to the immortal historian of declin- 
ing Rome, the victorious impostor smiled at 
his early credulity, tbey were certainly 
these, in wtiich he uoblushingly leeislated 
for his own dignity and his own indulgencs. 
The aupposilioD, however, is one on which 
it wilt be difficult to account for Ddahomet's 
behaviour ia every other particular during 
the sequel of his life ; and if we attentively 
consider his situation, we shall perhaps be 
able to form a more consistent coDciugion. 
Nearly twenty years had elapsed siace he' 
experienced the illusiotiB ip which his con- 
victions orif^ioBled ; and ader that period, 
the form in which his regulations were is. 
sued must have become habitual. Success, 
which was to him the confirmatioii of all he 
imagined, had been iinmedialely owing, he 
must have felt, to his owtr energy and con- 
duct — to his own actions and his own (eel. 
ings. What wonder if at length he consider- 
ed a union so long undissolved as indissolu- 
ble, and forgot in the casuistry of self for 
self^ the sober limits by which divine inter- 
position must be confined! 

The very next incident to which the Ko- 
lann (ch. 46) alludes, shows that Mahomet 
was still governed by his imaginations. 
Having been all along engaged ia war with 
the Mcccans, it was impossible for the Mos- 
lims to perform the sacred pilgrimage to the 
Caaba, which Mahomet had mads a funda- 
mental part of his religion. In the eixth 
year, however, he informed ihemofadream 
with which he had been favoured, according 
to the obvious interpretation of which, he 
assured them, that they would that year gain 
admittance lo the temple, and perform all 
the sacred ceremonies prescribed on the oc- 
casion. On the faith of this, with unexam- 
pled simplicity, he set out at the appointed 
time, accompanied by the chieb only of his 
followers, unprepared either to offer or resiit 
attack, and trusliag lor the accomplishment 
of his prediction to some secret exertion on 
the hearts of his enemies of the same high 
influence bv which he professed to have been 
assurei). Ko such solution of the di^iculty, 
either miraculous or accidental, was fated to 
befall him. As they approached Mecca, the 
Coreysh met him by a short and stem man- 
date prohibiting his further advance; and the 
disconcerted prophet suddenly found himself 
not only deceived and the deceiver of olbera, 
in respect of whnt he hnd so confidently an- 
nouiici'd, but thrown by his own credulity, 
with all the moral strength of his party, into 
the reach of their enemies; — a species of 
hostage for his better behaviour if allowed 

to return unmolested. Nothing could have 
saved the party and the religion from exter- 
mination, but one of those conventional points 
of rude morality which are sometimes found 
to prevail among a bart>arous people, with a 
force exactly proportioned to their essential 
insignificance, — as if by an unconscious in- 
stinct of society the blindest deference was 
to be exacted from the feeling, when least 
could be commanded from the judgment. 
Amidst the chaos of anarchy and outrage 
which the entire peninsula has always pre- 
itsd, four months had been set apart from 
the earliest periods' for the annual season 
of universal truce. Singularly tenacioua 
were the Arabs of this their Ust homage to 
the duties and dignities of civilized life; and 
the wild rovers of the desert, who knew no 
other law, amerced themselves for all their 
excesses, by the undevialing strictness with 
hich they adhered to this. IVfahomet then 
must not be considered lo have taken this 
singular step witbout something like a sha- 
dow of safeguard to his party on definite and 
demonstrable grounds. Of all the months 
that were thus held sacred to repose, the 
most sacred was that in which the pilgrim- 
age was taken; and throughout all the 
peninsula, io which outrage was then crimU 
nal, it was most criminal in the precincts. of 
the city he now approached. But the temp* 
tationofiered was immense: — the long score 
of suSering and indignity that might be 
iped away — the fair prospect of peace and 
ipremacy that might be secured at a blow, 
which the unguardedness that provoked 
would almost seem it the same lime to jus- 
tify — this must have been no light consider. 
aiion among an impetuous pevple and lo a 
falling party. That ihe situation and the 
opportunity was felt on both sides we know 
from what followed. A treaty was con- 
cluded, in which Mahomet granted peace to 
bitterest enemies, on cohdition of his be- 
ing allowed to make the pilgrimage in fu- 
ture — the Coreysh being bound to evacuate 
the city as soon as he approached it. In 
his eagerness to conclude the agreement, the 
Prophet waived, in the wording of it, ihe 
high pretensions he had so strictly maintain- 
ed on all other occasions. Nay be was 
obliged to acquiesce in present disappoint, 
men! as the only price at which he could 
obtain the remote and contingent accomplish- 
of his predictions. In resisting their 
present entry into Mecca the Coreysh were 
intlexible, and the Moslims were compelled 
to retreat with only the promise of the pro- 
mise tbey had come to fulfil. The next year 
tht; treaty was observed on both sides, and 
the atlachmcnl of the Moilims lo the city of 
their faith, was augmented by the joy 


TtMM and Objeett ofMahOMtt in ihe Con^otithn efAe Konavn. Oct. 

out iovolvin^ ua in serious inconsSsIencies. 
In its profeiised object and primary tvodeD' 
cies, tlie religion be preached was infinitely 
supf rior to that he supplanted, and singular, 
ly Builed to the chaTflcrera of his country 
men. And if the wisdom of Providf nee has 
on other uccasiona adapted its dispensations 
to peculiarities of civilisation, and given one 
nation laws that were not fitti'd for another, 
and precepts in which they could not live, 
we cannot aow reject another system be- 
cause it contains some and fewer imperfec- 
tions of a similar kind. Inspiration seems 
.always to have acted within the limits of 
character and country ; and those who ad. 
mit David to have lived under the guidance 
;^iid in the favour of God, cannot altogether 
object to similar cinims io another. 

On this, as on many other importan 
questions, we must be cunlent for the pres 
cnt to come to a eonclusion less certain 
than we should wish to arrive at ; and iu 
ihe eqoip-jjse of more decisive arguments, 
ihe resder'a judgrtient will perhaps be satis- 
fied with the followingconsideraticins. Ma- 
homet's system was not uniform : it began 
in peace and humility, and ended in arro- 
gance and havoc. Contradictions so seri- 
ous as these bespeak the inconsistent emo- 
tions o( human feeling, rather than the 
steady guidanceof unalterable wisdom; and 
whatever allowance we may be inclin«'d to 
make for those necessary tendencies of dis- 
position which cannot be banished without 
destroying personal identity, we cannot sup- 
pose that absolute guilt, or even particular 
indulgence, should be sanctioned and de> 
fended by the word of God. But by the 
distinct admission of Mahomet and all his 
followers, the question mainly rests on the 
inspiration of his scripture, and the whole 
pile of Moslim fnilh and Moslim arrogance 
falls with the authority of the Korann, 

But it is impassible to degrade Mahomet 
as a prophet without exalling-him as a man. 
If superiority to the prejudices of age and 
country — if perseverance in a sacred cause, 
despite of persecution and of ignominy — if 
clemency in the full career of contest — if 
unequalled influence over the minds and 
passions of mankind — give a title to the ad- 
miration of posterity, where shall we find, 
short of Mosaic inspiration, a claim so un- 
deniable as hisT The inconsistencies of 
his conduct a philosopher will readily ex- 
cuse, as they were the natural results of a 
system he was compelled to adopt : and a 
Christian will grieve to consider, that if his 
originnl intentions could have been carried 
into effect, the simple purity of th« doctrine 
he taught would have left little for the pro- 
pagators of the gospel to orercome. 

I ctizedbyGoOgIC 


of performing; their long-delayed rites. 
Strengthened by the submission of fresh 
tribes, they panted for an opportunity of se- 
curing it for ever to their feelings and their 
faith. To persoBB so disposed, the occasion 
could not long be wanting. The Coreysh 
bad joined in hostility against a tribe in the 
ftllianco of the Moslims. Mahomet declared 
Ihe treaty was infringed, and produced the 
9th chapter of the Korann, containing the 
decisive declaration ihat at^er thttt year no 
idolalor should approach the Caabs. The 
composition was instantly dispntched to the 
Coreysh, and Mahomet followed with an 
army of 10,000 men. The situation of the 
two partlM was here precisely the reverse 
of wr>at it had been on the previous occasion. 
The Meccaos were taken by surprise, and 
having themselves in a manner infringed on 
the law of the sacred truce in their conduct 
to the tribe whose cause MahDrael espoused, 
they were justly held by hint to have forfeited 
all claim to benefit by it on the present oc- 
casion. Unprepared for resistance, sub- 
mission was their only resource i and Abu 
Suhan, the Prophet's most determined foe, 
waited on him with the keys of the city. 
What lollows is the touchstone of Mahomet's 
character. His biuer insulters, his unre- 
lenting enemies were in his power, and he 
pardoned them! — those who declined em- 
bracing his fjith, being lell at liberty to go 
where they pleased. The conquest of Mec- 
ca was speedily followed by the submission 
of the provinces of Yaman andNajd; and 
Mahomet found himself the polilical and re- 
ligious head of his country. With this, the 
historical part of our article concludes, A 
few passag«9k>f the 48th, 9th, 8ih, and 5th 
chapters there are which were composed in ' 
the following year ; hut the interest of the 
Korann terminates, together with the oppo- 
sition it met with, and the difficulties under 
ivhich it was produced. 

A slight consideration will convince 
OS that MahommedanisVn is neither to 
be assailed nor defended by the arguments 
Usually resorted to. Neither the per- 
fect conviction of Mahomet and his con. 
temporaries, nor the rapid and un'limitt'd 
conquests of his successors, can be ndiniited 
as a proofofhis real inspiration. Credence 
equally implicit, and in the beginning equal- 
ly extended, has been given in various nges 
of the world to tenets, to all of which it is 
impossible to subscribe. Invasions, equally 
extensive and equally successful, have often 
been produced by the unpretending impulses 
of and ferocity. On the other hand, 
no cunsiderations drawn from the character 
of the pretender, or the actual nature of the 
faith he established, can be insisted on with- 

Mattdlh** HMoty of the Maggan, 


Art. II. — GaekickU der Magyaren (His- 
tory of the Magyarn), con Ji.hann, Grafea 
MaUdlh. 8 vols. Svo. Wien. 1828— 

Time has beea when Hungry consiituled 
a politically important part orEurope ; when 
upoQ thut remote, and now unregarded 
eastern province, the eyea of the continent 
were bent, first in terror, afterwards in anx- 
ious, trembtin^ hope. Alan early period 
of modern biaiory, when the Carlovingian 
dynasty waa aiiiking towards final extinc- 
tion, Trom Hungary issued the swarms ot 
Magyars who for upwards of half aceoiury 
overran and desolated those parts of Europe 
which by geographical posiiion had escap- 
ed the predaiQry incursions of the Danes 
and Normans, And at a later period, when 
Ihe Ottoman hosts threatened to overwhelm 
Chrisrendon, Hungary waa the bulwark of 
civilized Europe, the theatre upon which 
the wars of the Cross and the Crescent 
were hourly waged. 

Those limes are past ; and to the rest of 
the world Hungary is now no more than a 
province of the Austrian empire; though 
ceitaifily an iinporlunt province, with a 
population auperior to that of many modern 
kingrloin!, being in round numbers twelve 
miliiona. lis history, therefore, which 
would once have commanded the universal 
attention of the reading public, 'can now 
hope only for stich notice as its own inde- 
pendent and intrinsie interest may attract. 
That this interest is hoivever by no meand 
incnn^fiderable, needs scarcely be staled ; for 
to what Christian heart I'an the country be 
indifr<:rent, that so long struggled single- 
handed against the all-subduing Turks, and 
that, when it fell, fell a victim for the gener- 
al safety. 

But this h not the solo interest belonging 
to the land of the Magyars- It baa produc- 
ed splendid feat a of heroism and lomdntic 
adventures, and has given birth to men in 
whom, however tainted with (he vices of 
their age, the proudest country might exult. 
The aristocratic freedom and privileges of 
the Magyars themaelves offer, even in the 
present day, a lingering remnant of 
ism; and the generous apirit with which 
they supported, and effectively supported 
Maria Theresa, when assailed by the ru- 
pacioua and perjured sovereigns of Europe, 
may be termed the last gleam of European 

Graf(Eirl)Maildth who. in the volumes 
now before us, has made this land of vi. 
'issiiudes and this iofiy-souled nation known 
Germany, is himcnlf a Magyar, of a 
high iiimily, serving their country officially 


and with well -merited diatiDction. Earl 
Johann has preferred the urvice of the mus- 
es to that of the slate ; but even in his pur- 
suit of-'this idle trade" he has been actu- 
ated by patriotic impulses, and has made 
the fjme of Hungary ope of his great liter, 
ary objects. As a poet he has translated 
her ancient Magyar poetry into German, as 
noticed in a former number;* he has col- 
lected her early traditions and legends ; and 
he now .'Stands fomard in the graver capa- 
city of her historian. In these various 
branches of liternture Count IV]ailaih has 
earned (he general esteem, as well nf bis 
Magyar compatriots as of the Teutonio 
literati. All his works are popular in Ger. 
many ; and in the last volume of hia history 
he speaks with gratitude of the favourable 
verdicts pronaunced by the tribunals of 
criticism upon the preceding volumes, as 
ihev iteparately appeared. 

To e 



of these five volumes, unconnected with this 
country or with the political excitement of 
the day^ is of course out of the question. 
But we conceive that a rapid survey of the 
history of Hungary, or rather perhaps of its 
lenou rand character, in proof of our remarks, 
msy be satisfactory to the reader. With 
such a sketch therefore we shall introduce 
the extracts that appear moat interesting, 
characteristic, and national. 

Count Maiiflth commences his history 
somewhat abruptly, wilb the irruption of the 
.Magyars into Hungary, taking no notice of 
ilieir origin ot former home. This omis- 
sion, if omission it be, is amply atoned by 
the insertion, as an appendix, in three of 
his volumesjof dissertations translated from 
the Magyar nf the national antiquaries, 
Georg von Fejer and Stephen Howath, and 
designed to prove that nation a branch of 
the Paithians or Turks. This is a topic 
important to the Magyars and lo the inves- 
tigators of Fuch ethnological questions j 
but having adverted to it in the article al- 
ready cited, we shall imitate our historian 
and begin with the occupation of Hungury. 

In the year 889 the Magyars, under their 
leader Arpad, crossed the Carpntbian moun* 
tains from Galicia and invaded Hungary, 
then parcelled out amongst several petty 
lords and princes. Some strategical sktj] 
the Magyars we are (old even (hen display- 
ed; inasmuch as they always detached a 
part of their array to fall upon the flank or 
rear of the enemy whom the main body at. 
tacked in front : this appears lo have remain- 
ed their favourite mancsuvre so long as 
they had an independent army. It was in 


Hvngarf — MaiUtk't 


the nioth csntnrv more than sufficient for 
the conquest of Hungary, a conquest cha- 
iBCtecised lather by ravage and devHslation 
than by open flight. From that momenl, 
as stated, the Magyars under Arpad and 
his posterity oTeiran, plundered, and deso- 
lated Oermany, Prance, Italy, and the 
Qreek empire aa hi as Constantinople, in- 
flicting all the miseries attendant upon bar- 
barian inroads. These horrors were first 
checked in the year955, when the Empe- 
ror Oiho the Great defeated the Magyars 
npon the river Lech, so completely anni- 
hilating the marauding host that, it is re- 
ported, only aeven of the invaders survived 
to carry home the tidings of disaster. 

Shortly afterwards begnn the conversion 
of the Magyars to Christianity, introduced 
here as elEcwhere chiefly by female influ- 
ence. The Christian dame Sarolta, herself 
a converted Magyar, who exercised this 
influence over her countrymen and thsir 
prince, her husband Geisa, was neverthe- 
less the most extraordinary of lady mission- 
aries, being addicted to the bottle, and occa- 
sionally, when angered, to the sword. Her 
power was such that she prevailed upon the 
Magyars to abandon their plundering expe- 
ditions, ally themselves with the Germans, 
and learn from them the arts of life. Waild 
her son by Geisa, was christened by the 
name of Stephen, and married Gisalof a sis- 
ter of the Emperor Henry II.* He was 
afterwards canonized, and is called by 
MaiidtU " the greatest man Hungarian histo- 
ry can boast" St. Stephen sent an embassy 
la Rome to acknowledge the supremacy of 
the Pope, from whom he obtained a crown 
and the royal title, but to whomhe conced- 
ed little nuthority in Hungary. He appoint- 
ed bishops and marked out their dioceses; 
he founded churches, convents, and schools. 
He is said to hmo Itkewiac given the Mag- 
yars (1 political fonstitutiori ; but his lawa 
are lo^l and forgoilen: it is now only 
known that the monarchy wos at once elect- 
ive and hereditary, the individual king be 
ing freely chosen, but from the race of 
Arpad; ih:it the nobles exercised much (on- 
Irol over the royal authority, forming a sort 
of senate ; that the administration was con- 
ducted by great officers of state with apeciflc 
departments; that the country was divided 
as now into counties, each governed by a 
noblemnn, with the title, first it is said of 


• Mailath aays k eiiter of Otbo's, bat no nicb 
■iter of anj of theOlhoa is known: Frofcnar 
Iflden, ■ most diligent inquirer, nji k lister oT 
Henry II.'s, uid we bkvc preferred his anthoritj, 
■■ Mtildth ii aubject to miitskes in nunesand 
genealogin.; for inilanca, ciUing /Miria There«a ' 
the grandohildof Jo*BphI.,her uncle. 

Comet paroekuauu, then of Comet ntpmmu, 
and lastly of Obergeapan; that guilds and cor- 
porations, often composed of immigrants, 
existed with especial privileges ; and that, 
whilst there was a class of free peaaants, 
ihe lower orders were villeins or serfs. It 
rather seems that the nobles, even if hound 
to military service, did not hold their estates 
in vassalage ; because it is mentioned, as a 
distinct condition of tenure, that the king 
granted lands attached to the royal castles 
in vassalage, and in consideration of milita- 
ry service, to an intermediate class of per- 
sons. Justice was administered in every 
county by the Comet in person ; and the 
ordeal by fire or water, and judicial combat, 
were the usual modes of eliciting truth. Id 
cBsa of war the free peasants and commu. 
nities were bound to send every tenth, or 
sometimes every eighth man to form the 
banderium m disposable force of the county. 

After St. Stephen's death the claims of 
difTerent candidates for the throne gave rise 
to civil wars, with foreign interference. The 
three sons of Bela, Geisa, St. Ladistaus, and 
Lambert, with disinterested virtue, refused 
the crown on account of Ihe superior rights 
of Solomon, the son of Andreas L, their fa- 
ther's elder brother and predecessor; nor 
did Geisa II. accept it until Solomon bad - 
proved himself wholly unfit to reign. 

The male descendants of Arpad sat upon 
the throne nf Hungary for upwards of 400 
years, viz. to the end of the thirteenth centu- 
ry. This was a period of incessant war- 
fare ; proceeding partly from Magyar at. 
tempts at conquest, many of the adjacent 
provinces being at difierent limes subject to 
Hungary ; partly from the interference of 
foreign powers in civil dissensions. The 
period wa.s further distinguished by some 
remarkable events ; as the crusades, and ihe 
steady advance of the Mongol hordes upon 
Eastern Europe, which threatened again to 
submerge just as it began to revive. Of both 
Hungary was in part the scene. The earli- 
est crusaders repaired by land to Palestine, 
and traversed that kingdom. The disorder- 
ly rabble composing the first bodies commit. 
ted all sorts of outrages, cruelly ravaging the 
country ; and suSered as cruelly from the 
vengeance of the Magyars. But with God. 
frey of Bouillon King Koloman negotiated 
the terms of his pas.sBge ; Godfrey maintain- 
ed strict discipline, and Koloman took care 
that the progress of the army should be un- 
molested, and their markets abundantly sup- 
plied. The few subsequent crusades that 
proceeded by land, were, like Godfrey's, un- 
der military government, and thence caused 
less evils. 

It was during the reign of Bola IV., that 
I ctizedbyGoOgIC 

HuUay of the Magg&ra, 


Id the year 1240, the Mongols, liler desolat- 
ing the e&sl ' under Gengiskhan, turned 
westward under hu successors; and, led by 
his grandaoQ Batout overwhelmed, dovaslai- 
iog and destroying almost without resiatance 
Russia, Polana, Moravia, Silesia, and Hun- 
gaij. The first check they ezperieDced vaa 
m Silesia : Henry the Pious, Duke of Brea- 
lau, gave them battle with very inferior num. 
ben, and although he was defeated and slain, 
bis gallaai example encouraged his country. 
men; the towoa closed their gales and man- 
ned their walls ; the Mongols besieged them 
unsuccessfully as unskilfully, and penetrated 
no further westward upon this line. In 
Hungary they overspread the country, while 
internal dissensions paralysed the enbrts of 
Bela to oppose them. He was defeated, 
and, escaping death only by the self-devotion 
of a few of his followers, sought shelter with 
his family in the furthest Hungarian province, 
Iblmatio. There and in Hungary some 
fortified towns successfully defied the awk. 
ward atucks of the Mongols. The death of 
Khan Oktay and the anairs of their own 
empire, rather than the resiatance ibey en- 
countered, appear to have determined the 
Mongols to return to Asia. Mail^ thua 
describes the stale in which they left Hun- 

•■ In how horrible & condition did Bela, 
upon faJB return, find his kingdom i—For 
whole days' journeys not & human being ; 
the wild Malta so increeaed In numbers and 
were so audacious, that by broad dayliKbt the 
wolves ventured into Inhabited vUlages. 
tearing children from their mothers, and 
even attacking armed men- Nowhere a 
field tilled ; famine, with all its terrors, im- 
pending j sickness predominant. But great 
K8 was the need, commensurate was the en- 
ergy of his counteractive ineasureB." 

Another remarkable event of this period 
was the wringing from the feabie Andreas II. 
a charter, bearing much analogy to our 
Magna Ghatta, to which it is Ihuo inferior, 
and subsequent but by a very few years. It 
is entitled the Golden Bull, and is, to this 
day, [he law of the land; the constitution 
which, with the exception of one clause, ev- 
ery monarch at his accession still swears to 
observe. Count Maildth considers the Gold- 
en Bull as superior to Magna Charta; and 
without entering into comparison, some 
^inls of the Hungarian document certainly 
deaerve mention. The Golden Dull author- 
ized the assembling of the estates of the 
kingdom, afforded security of person and 
properly, ameliorated the condition of the 
lower orders, and sanctioned. the forcible re- 
sistance of the subjects to mlsgovernment on 
the part of the king. This last is the clause 

TOL. zxiv. 3 

excepted from the coronation oath, and m 
probably unique; it being more extraordina> 
ly for tne sovereign lo concede the right of 
insurrection, Ituvn tijr the subjects to assume 
it ; as did the Aragonese nobles by the cele- 
brated "Si no, — no," (if not, — noi,) of their 
oath of allegiance. 

This period likewise produced monarcha 
distinguished by other qualities than their 
courage and military proficiency. We have 
already mentioned St. Stephen ; we may add 
Bela I., who, in a three years' reign, did 
much for the interna] prosperity of the king- 
dom; his son, St. Ladislaus, a conqueror 
and legislator, the benefactor of the church 
and restorer of its diacipline ; Kulomau, who 
in those early and superstitious times prohib- 
ited the perseculion of witches, " because 
wilchcraA has no existence ;" and Bela IV., 
who, in addition to his other merits, began 
the improvement of the judicial system, and 
realricted the use of the ordeal and judicial 
combat In legal proceedings. We cannot 
forbear extracting the noble historian's cha- 
racter of this Magyar monarch. 

" Bela was certainly one of the greatest of 
rulers. His measures, equally energetic, 
comprehensive, and appropriate, saved the 
Magyar realm when upon tne point of dinso- 
lution by the Uongol invasion. The rise of 
the towns, the repeopling of the country, a 
more regulated course of business, a fresh 
impulse given to the working of the mines ; 
the ratification of popular liberties, in unison 
with corroboration of the regal dignity ; aecur- 
tty of the frontiers by alliances, augmentation 
of the revenue,* such are the unforgotten 
e&bcis of his wisdom. ' A man full of virtue, 
whose meroorr, like aweet honey, Uvea in the 
mouths of Hungarians and of foreign na- 
tions,' says the old chronicler Turocz/' 

In 1301 died Andreas lU., the last male 
heir of the Arpad dynasty ; and the historian 
remarks that of the three- and -twenty kings 
from A. D. 1000, only Bela IV. lived to the 
age of sixty ; these premature deaths, com- 
bining ' with attachment to the hereditary 
principle, render the accession of minors 
more frequent in the annala of half-etectire 
Hungary, than perhaps of any purely hered- 
itary monarchy. 

Upon the extinction of the male line, an 
heir was sought in the female branch. Even 
when AndrtfBs III., a collateral heir of the 
kings hie immediate predeceasors, waa elect- 
ed, Maria, the queen of Charles II. of Na- 
ples and grand- daughter to Bela IV., had 

■ It thoaldperlupahave beansulioriUled,tbU 
th« pnblio revsniH of HutigU7 wu deiired from 
tExw, th* nktnre of which mania to be qoito on- 
known. Cram ciulomi and toll*, u wall as frim 
cniwn luidi. 

Digitized byGoOgle 

Hvngary — Ma ildth'g 


claimed the crown for her »on Charles Mar- 
tel ; and the Pope had, somewhat precipi- 
tately, conferred it upon him. Death pre- 
vented Charles Marlel from enforcing his 
preienitioDs ogainal Andreas ; but when the 
throne was actually vacant, his son, Charles 
I^bert, protected by ihe Pope, repaired to 
Hungary, and though not fifteen, contended 
with bis rivals for the crown so strenuously 
and succeaefully, thai after several year»' 
struggle, he carried his election, and ia 1310 
was crowned ai Buda. 

Charles Robert's reign was for Hungary 
uncommonly long, being thirty years from 
bis coronation ; and his posterity continued, 
with a short interruption, to rule for upwards 
of 200 years, in fact as long as Hungary re- 
mained independent. In 1526 the unfortu- 
nate battle of Mohaea against the Turks de- 
Blrayed the forces of Hungary ; and by the 
death of the young king, Lewis H., without 
children, made way for the ejection of his 
sister's husband, the Archduke, anerwords 
the Emperor Ferdinand I., who incorporated 
Hungary with the other dominions of the 
House of Austria. 

Tbis period like the former is full of wars, 
foreign and civil. The foreign were occa- 
sioned firat by schemes of conquest and in- 
volvement in the affairs of Naples ; after- 
wards also by the necessity of opposing the 
progressive preponderance of the Ottoman 
arms : when Hungary appeared as the bul- 
ward of Christendom. The civil wars origi- 
nated chieEly in contests for the crown. Like 
the former, this period produced some great 
men ; of whom may be mentioned Charles 
Robert himself an able, and generally speak- 
ing a prosperous ruler, although ho greatly 
augmented the power of his patrons, the 
popes, in Hungary ; his son, Le»-ia I., called 
one of Hungary's greatest kings, who added 
Poland, Bed Russia, Moldavia, and part of 
Servia to his hereditary dominions ; John 
Huuyadi and his son MaihiasCorvinu!>. 

Hungary was now no longer an indepen- 
dent kingdom ; but its history, in some mea- 
sure independent, does not cease simultane- 
oualy with its separate existence. AUhuugh 
Ferdinand was twice elected King of Hunga- 
ry, the whole nation did not acknowledge 
him ; rebellions and civil wars, envenomed 
by religious dissensions, followed ; Transyl- 
vania, under the ambitious John Zapolya, 
aimed at independence ; be and his succes- 
sors even preferring vassalage to the Porto 
when the alternative was submission to Aus- 

Favoured by these internal feuds that par- 
alized resistance to the common enemy of 
Christendom, the Turks pursued their victo- 
rious career mnre successfully ogaiaat Hun. 

gary under the Imperial House of Austria, 
than as a single, unassisted kingdom. They 
now reduced three-fourths of the country so 
completely, that Ihe national division into 
counties was changed for a Turkish division 
into Sangiaekt, all placed under the supreme 
authority of the Pasha of Buda. It was only 
under ihe Emperor Charles VI., in the early 
part of the eighteenth century, Ihal the whole 
of Hungary was finally and completely re- 
covered from Ottoman domination ; and it is 
with the accession of Charles's daughter) 
Maria Theresa, whose wise and maternal 
government conciliated even the most turbu- 
lent of the Magyars, that Count Mail&th 
considers the separate history of Hungary as 
terminated. He concludes his narrative of 
heroism, chivalry, and romance, we must say 
unpleasantly to our feelings, by calling in 
question the celebrated, generally-believed, 
and heart-stirring burst of Magyar enthusi- 
astic loyalty, " Moriamnr pro rege nostro, 
Maria Theresa !" 

During the early pari of this period it may 
perhaps be thought that the chaiacler of Hun. 
gary as the bulwark of Christendom, was 
merged in that of the victim ; but still, at 
least negatively, it served in the farmer ca- 
pacity. It formed the boundary line beyond 
which the stormiest tide of Ottoman conquest 
advanced no further wealward ; once only a 
vigorous effort at such advance was made, 
and it ended in Ihe memoratHe siege of Vi- 
enna, raised by the gallant King of Poland, 
John Sobieski, with tlie utter discomfiture of 
the Osmanlis. Nor was this the only mem- 
orable siege, the only heroic exploit achiev- 
ed in the continuous war against the intrusive 
Turk. The desperate resistance of several 
Hungarian towns, though seldom successful, 
still aOords ths mind of the reader some re- 
lief from the sense of depression that steals 
over it, whilst dwelling upon the details of 
misgovernment of paltry and ill-advised am- 
bition, ond the disastrous results. 

But perhaps the most remarkable incident 
belonging 10 these two centuries of struggle 
between Austria and Turkey for Hungary, 
relates to the religious vicissitudes that oc- 
curred there. The Reformation had struck 
root so firmly amongst the people, was so 
rapidly and so widely spreadiag, that Mag- 
yar-Orszag, as the Magyars denominate 
Hungary, seemed upon the point of becoming 
a completely Protestant state, when the sheer 
intellectual energy and eloquence of one 
man, the Jesuit, Pazman, reconverted almost 
all the higher orders to Catholicism. 

This period likewise produced some re- 
markable men, whose names well deserve 
to be recorded. Pazman was born of a 
noble, though not wealthy fiunily, was edu- 

Hitloryo/tKe Magjiar». 

cated ID Calviniatic priaciples, and beoune 
a Catholic at thirteen, a Jeeuit at seventeen 
years of age : his succeaa as a miasionary 
preacher has been told. But this ia not the 
only Hungarian name entitled to a better 
fata than ublivion. Stephen Bocsltai and 
Bethlon Gabor wbre endowed with the qua- 
lities which should have made men as good 
as they were great and real benefactors of 
their country, had tbey not sufTsred them- 
selves to be impelled by an ambitious, a fac- 
tious and sectarian spirit to attempt an im- 
possibility, namely, the independence of a 
mere province ; — and in the prosecution of 
the attempt to throw themselves into the 
arms, or more properly speaking, under the 
feet of the enemy of liieir ftith, instead of 
luing their ascendency to procure fair terms 
of union for Hungary and Transylvania with 
Austria, including toleration for their various 
sects and shades of Protestantism- The 
later insurgents, the Rakocskia and T&k6ly 
in Transylvania, and Zrinyi, &c. in Hunga- 
ry, were in comparison with these men little 
more than romantic adventurers. They all 
offer rich matter lo the historic novelist, and 
as such have been used by Bronikowski,* j 
and made known to our readers. 

We now offer some specimens of Magyar | 
history, as also of Magyar historians. The 
early account of these Magyars, their hea- 
then religion and customs, contained in the 
iirst volume of the work before us, has been 
noticed on a former occasion,! >l>glilly io- 
deed, yet sufficiently to prevent our now at- 
tempting a more detailed analysis- We 
therefore proceed to a later period, and se- 
lect the portion of the Turkish wars which 
embraces the lives of the two Hunyadis. 
We begin with an extract which Maililh 
gives from a contemporary narration, illus- 
trative of the Slate of the country, of the 
individual misery resulting from Turkish 
aggression, and of the singular adventures 
to which it gave turth. In one Turkish 
inroad, about 1439, 70,000 Transylvauian 
captives were dragged away to slavery ; and 
our author thus proceeds, 

•'From amidst the mass of these unfortu- 
nates one figure stands forward, claiming 
our attention, our sympathy- It is a youth 
who was made prisoner at Miihienbach, and 
who, returning home two-and-twenty years 
ai^erwards, failbfully and intelligently de- 
£Crit>ed the manners and customs of the 
Turks. His name >s unknown ; he calls 
himself only the Teacher of the Transylva- 
njans; and in the wriiinKs of (he day is often 
referred to as the Miihienbacher, from the 
place where h« was captured. His adven- 


Uvea cannot be noore attractively given, than 
as told by himself in the ingenious preface 
to his Description of the Turks. Afler brief- 
ly mentioning their invasion of Transylvania, 
he thus proceeds : ' At this time I was a lad 
of flflecn or sixteen, a native of this province, 
and had a year previously quitted the town 
in which I was born ; repairmg, for the pur- 
pose of study, to a small town called in Hun- 
garian Schebesch, in German Miihlenbachi 
which was then populous enough but not as 
well fortified. Therefore when the Turk 
came, and encamped, he at oi^ce prepared 
to storm. The Duke of the Wallachaben 
( Walla chians 1), who hod accompanied the 
Turks, on account of an old friendship be- 
tween bim and the inhabitants and citizens of 
this town, drew nigh to the walls, makes 
peace, cells upon the citizens, and persuades 
them to follow his advice, which is. not to 
contend with the Turics whose migDi Ihey 
were too weak and loo few to resist, but to 
surrender peaceably ; in which case be would 
obtain leave of the Turk lo take the higher 
classes, unharmed in property, home «ich 
him to his own country, leaving it to their 
free choice to stay with him or return lo 
Hungary. The rest of the people the Turk 
would take with him lo Turkey without in- 
jury to person or property, and there give 
them a country to possess and remain in at 
Ibeir pleasure, or allow them to go away in 
peace undeceived and undetained. All this 
was done according to engagement. Thus 
was the war appointed for the morrow,* that 
each might prepare his property and family, 
to depart in peace with the morrow. 

"'One high-minded nobleman, who bad 
been commandant of a ensile, with his equal- 
ly high-minded brother, who had fought 
much against the Turks, would by no means 
follow this advice, but a hundred times rather 
die than surrender himself, his wife and 
children, to the Turks,! and he persuaded 
maay to adopt bis opinion- They made 
choice of a tower into which the whole night 
long they carried provisions, arms, and all 
requisites for defence, forlifytag it as they 
best could ; with them I entered the lower, 
awaiting with earnest desire rather death 
than life. 

" ' In the morning the Qroiid Turk come 
in person to the town gate, and commanded 
that every one who came forth with wife 
and children should be registered by nam^ 
and kept under guard, to be conducted lo 


■ We coafcBi to being peipleied br •ome Knten. 
cc$, bcra knd further on, but whetaei the puz2tb 
rests with ibe aid TnasylvuiiBa or hii GGrmLii 
tnnelatoT, if indeed the originil bo not Germtn, 

t We ntiut itkle, in vindioatton of the eonne 
■dopled by thia h^-mindad noblemui, Itut the 
capitulBtion here dctiiled ii prettj neul; > •olilu; 
instuico in Miilalh'i votumei or i »pitiil«.lio> 
honoureblj abwrred br tbe Tarka. The lals of 
BUtrandar ia w ^ncrdlj toUowed b; thit of the 
muidei of the diormed guTiaao, thet the raider 
bagini to wondtu what oiroumatKiice* could tampt 
naj one lo tieit uf labiniuioii. 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Turkey, widiout daniKge of peraoD or mov- 
able property. Ha recommended ti to the 
Ihike of Wulacbta in the above-mentjoned 
manner to guard the citizens and autborities 
of tbe town and take them into his own 

" ' Tbe whole army; getting no booty from 
tbeae people, now turned with ananimouB 
frenzy sgaioat the town in which we were, 
and ron at it to storm It, in tbe hope of finding 
much to plunder amongst us. What an as- 
aault, what a tempest tnere was, no tongue 
can sufficiently say ; nich a thickness of ar- 
rows and stones that it was thicker than rain 
or snow to look at ; such a shouting ef war- 
riors, clashing and clangi^ of arms, and 
crackling and rushing of^ assailants, as 
though heaven and eartn were breaking at 
cme instant Now as the town was not rery 

(nUdert—ia this an obsolete word, a proTin- 
clalism, or a misprint 1) could we stand saft 
for the arrows and stones; but they could 
make nothing of the walls on account of their 
atrength. when now the anernoon snn 
tendM towsrds setting, and nothing was yet 
accomplished, ihey took counsel that some 
diould not neglect the stormiDgthe tower, 
whilst others should bring wood, with which 
theybulltupBuch a bastion as well nlghequal- 
led the tower In height This theyenkf- 
dled, bakli^ and scorching us like bread 
an oven, when now almost all were melted 
and dead with the fire, and they perceived 
that nobody stirred in the tower, they tore 
away the fire, and broke in at tbe door, to 
•Be if there were any half dead whom, re> 
freshed and revived, to drag away. Thus 
half dead they found me ; recovered, and sold 
me to a trader, who chained me to other 
prisoners, soldered onmy fetters, and so drove 
me across the Danube to Adrianoplo, where 
the great king then made his residence. 
Now from the above-mentioned year 1436 
even to the year 1458, 1 bore the heavy 
burthen and intolerable anguish of this most 
bard and miserable captivity, not witttout 
danger and detriment lo body and soul. In 
this time I was seven times sold, I ran away 
seven times, was seven times retaken, and 
purchased with money ; accordingly I be- 
came so accustomed to their barbarous 
■peech thai, forgetling my mother tongue, I 
learned their observances and their wnting, 
80 that they would have given me a post in 
their Church of no smalfconsequence and 
income. I have also known more of their 
creed, by wrltingand In my head, and known 
better to speak of it than themselves, so that 
not only my neighbours, but deputations sent 
from dialant lands, ana much people came 
to bear me. alao roany priests. To my last 
ouster I ans aa dear as bis own child, as he 
often acknowlodged and also proved. When 
I was already free, he would fain have kept 
roewithbimasafreeman; his whole family 
prayed me; I was at last obliged to excuse 
myself craftily, making as though I would 
visit an university and return, which they 
conjured me to do in the name of God and 

their Hahnmed- So shomld I go back, and 
with my imperial letter of liber^, I cune 
away ovn the sea, God be praised !' " 

We are now to ezplaio the circumstances 
under which tbe Huayadis first appear in 
history. Tbe emperor Sigismund who had 
married Maria, eldest daughter of I.ewia I. 
and heiress of Hungary, and who bad lai* 
terly governed in her name, upon her dying 
without issue, was elected king ; he be- 
queathed tbe crown to Elizabeth, his daugh- 
ter by a second wife ; and her husband AL 
bert, Archduke of Austria, was elected king 
in acknowledenient of her right Albert 
died in 1439, leaving two infant daugblere 
and the prospect of a third child. The 
widow, unambnious by nature, and depressed 
by the loss of her husband, shrank from the 
troubles of tbe timea. She assembled the 
Estates, informed them that she felt herself 
unequal to wield the sceptre though bers by 
right, and was convinced that her unborn 
babe would prove another girl ; wherefore 
she advised them to elect a king. The 
crown was accordingly oSerad to Wladis- 
laus, King of Poland, the son of Maria's 
younger sister, Hedwig, and consequently 
the right heir of the Angaviae-Arpad line. 
Elizabeth, being delivered of a son, revoked 
her precipitate abdication, and caused her 
Infknt boy to be immediately christened La- 
dislauB and crowned ; but she could not 
wrest from Wladislaus the power she had 
rashly surrendered. She flea to Vienna with 
bar son and the crown of Hungary ; com- 
mitting both lo the guardianship of his near- 
est kinsman, the Emperor Frederic III. 
Tbe Emperor made no exertion on behalf 
of his ward; and though the realm was 
distracted with civil war until 1442, when 
Elizabeth's death lefl her party without a 
head. Wladislaus was from the first actu- 
ally king, and with him rested the defence 
of tbe country against the Turks. John 
Hunvadi was his general. 

Tne services of Hunyadi were early re- 
warded by Wladislaus with the appoint- 
ment of Worteodt of Transylvania ; but tbe 
care of this large province interfered not 
with his military dutiea. He twice defeated 
the Osmanlis upon Hunganan ground; 
then, leading across the frontiers an army, 
to the assembling and equipping of which 
he had largely contributed from his own 
TBbources, he gained five pitched battlea and 
took several fortresaes in the provinces al- 
ready Bubjecl lo the Crescent. A letter 
written by the victorious genera) in the 
midst of bis successes to his friend Niklaa 
Ujlak haa befn preserved, and h thus given 
by ourhistorian in its native devout simpli- 


HUiory ofAe Magyan. 


" God is to be praised and glorified for 
his great merciea nestowed upon his Chris- 
tian people : and so, afler the battle, we gave 
thanks to God, and we brought to the lung's 
majesty the banner of the enemy, and our 
prisoners- He received both piously, and 
gave God thanks. But the Emperor Amu- 
lath himself is now only three days' march 
distant from thai it is no wise possiUe 
but that we miutfight with him, and what 
must befall God knows already, for we are 
In Ood's hand. What God wilts, be the 
event ; once we must die, ana especially for 
the faith." 

The Turks now proposed to treat ; and 
the victorious Hunyadt, disappointed by the 
lukewarjuness of the DTsat cliristian powers 
in bis plans for ezpdiiiig the Moslem from 
BuTope, >trOB|:lyrecomin ended the Tneasure. 
A truce for ten years was accordingly con- 
cluded in July, 1444, the Turks agreeing' to 
restore oil the Servian fortresses within a 
given time. And now we have to reiate 
ene of those diigraceflil acts of sanctioned 
perfidy which but too often disgraced the 
Qiurcn of Rome in the darker ages, and 
still traditionaDy bring down upon her the 
reproaches of her enemies. But with the 
crime, we have to relate its signal punish- 
ment. Soon atter the signature of the truce, 
circomstancea peculiarly favourable for at- 
tacking the Turks occurred ; and Count 
Hail itn, himself a professed Catholic, thus 
narrates the result. 

" Cardinal Julian advanced the doubly 
entmeous principle that a promise to un- 
believers was not to be kept, and that Hun- 
gary was not authorised to makepeace with- 
oni the consent of the Holy See and the 
VHifx allied Fowera. He determined the 
king to break the treaty just ratified by 
oath: and made him swear bv his royal 
word and honour, by the Christian faith and 
holy baptism, by the hope of immort^ity, by 
the most holy Trinity and the moat glorious 
Ttrgin Mary, and by the sainted kings of 
Hungary, Stephen and Lsdislaus, that he, 
the kmg, would begin hoetilittes on the 1st of 

" The same oath was taken by most of 

command of the army was intrusted, and 
Bulgaria promised in writing as a kingdom. 
The commencement of the wnr was dpferred 
till the 1st of September, because in the 
interim the Turks were bound to restore the 
Serrion fortresses. ••• With 10,000 Hun- 
garians, 5,000 Poles and Crusaders, little 
artillery and much bsggaee, (2,000 wapeons 
were counted following the army,) the king 
marched from Szegedin, He crossed the 
Dnnube at Orsown and turned towards 
Widdin, where he was joined by Hunyadl 
wlih StODO men from TranRylvania. * • • 
" Arriving betore Nicopolis the Hungarians 


fVuIiIesSly assttulUd the tUfrii; Ibr a tegul^ 
siege ihey had neither artillery dor time, Und 
thus was the reduction of ttUl, Ih a militarv 
point of view, important place, omitretf. 
Whilst the king was entsMiped before Nico- 
polis, Drakul ^ince of Walia^hia appeared 
with 4,000 auxiliaHes, but earnestly dis' 
euaded further advance. Th6 Sultan's hunt- 
ing-train was larger he said than the king's 
whole army. Wheh his advice to roturfl 
with aU dispatch (o Hungary Wm rtyected, 
he pressed upon the king, agiinslhis time 
of need, two swift horses, &nd two Walla- 
chians of tried fidelity, whom he prayed him 
always to have near his persoD-'^ 

For awhile the king with his 24,000 
men, Advanced prosperously, took towns, 
slaughtered Talks and delivered Christian 
slaves. But the Ottoman governnieiit was 
not idle. Amurath or Murod, whom Mai. 
Idlh terms " the greatest and most humane 
of Ottoman sovsreigns," at the age of forty 
had abdicated in reliance on the peace, and 
had retired to Magnesia lo enjoy mmself. 

*■ When tidings of the breach of treaty 
reached Asia through the despot of Servia, 
the viziers and beys of llie sixteen-year- old 
Sultan thought him unequal to the Impend- 
ing storm, and Implored their old master 
with his secure hand to resume the com- 
mand- Murad rapidly assembled the army, 
and advanced to the Hellespont ;-^tbe sea 
swarmed wiUi CbristiBD -ships, amongst 
which an buodred and twenty-eighl gallm 
majestically and formidably towered. The 
passage could be neither forced nor stolen ; 
It was purchased. The Christian fleet re- 
tired, compelled, as the leaders asserted, by 
storms and want of provisions; and the 
merchants of Venice and Genoa betrayed 
the cause of Christendom for gold. Hurad 
paid a ducat a bead ; and in one ni{[ht 40,000 
Turl^s were transported from Asia to Eu- 
rope. • * * 

" The Hungarians encamped near Varna, 
and in the evening saw the whole northern 
sky reddened; it was the glare of the watch- 
fires of the Turkish boat, [of whose approach 
they knew nothing,] encamped upon a range 
of hills not far distant." 

The details of the battle of Varaa, in 
which the great hero, John Hunyadi, was 
defeated, and the king lost his life, do not 
add anylhing impartant to the narratives of 
historians regarding that event. 

Ladislaus Posthumous was now, upon 
the death of his successful rival, universally 
acknowledged king, but as he was still a 
child, John Hunyadi, upon effecting bis es- 
cape from his Wallachian confinement, was 
named Gubernntor, or administrator, by 
the sslotesof the kingdom. Mailfiih says, 

" The land needed a powerful ruler ; for 
durine the long contest fbr the crown, and, 


the muterless state oonaequent upon Uie 
death of Wladiiluis, disorder had risen to 
a high pitch) and outrages were everywhere 
perpetrated. •** • Mastetless rabble, sol- 
diers without pa^, ruiaed men reduced to 
despair, uoited^ forming & band the leadei 
of which were freely elected. In their oi 
ganizatian must have been something mya- 
lerioua and strict, for they were compared 
to monks. They conquered many strong 
castles, gained others by fraud, and butU 
others. Plundering and ravaging, murdering 
and burning, they prowled in all directionr 
"Under such circumstances justice ni 
turalty suffered most. Hunyadi therefore 
administered justice whenever a complaint 
came before him, in his progresses through 
the realm. His exertions to re-establish law 
and justice were so striking, and so uninter- 
rupted, that the historians of lus day quaint- 
ly describe them by saying, " Bitting and 
standing, wallung and riding, he administe 
ed justice.' He appointed eicellent men 
the widowed churches, and incessantly 
urged the pope to confirm as bishops those 
whom he knew to bethe fittest for the office. 
He likewise regulated and improved the 

But the main business of the Gubernator 
was with enemies domestic and foreign ; the 
Turks included. Of war in this history, 
we have, and must have more than enough ; 
suffice it therefore to say that in 1452, he 
delivered over bis kingdom to Ladislaut, in 
peace at home and abroad ; and the first act 
of the young monarch was to heap honours 
end wealth on him who had so well deserved 
them at his hands. Ere we again return 
perforce to scenes of broil and battle, a 
sketch of the young king's life at Vienna 
under Ulrich Cilly's tutelage, as given by 
Count Mail&ih from the pen of tlie legale 
Eneas Sjrivius, (afterwards Pope Pius II.,) 
and therefore cbaracleristic of the .times 
and country, may afford an agreeable va- 

"In the morning, as soon as the king is 
up, boiled nuts are set before him, with old 
Greek wine, that is called Malicatico ; then 
he goes to church, and hears mass publicly : 
thither and back he passes through crowd- 
ed multitudes of men, that he may not ap- 
pear to love solitude, like his uncle the em- 
peror. Upon his return roasted birds, 
pastry, and country wine am set before him, 
but he does not drink, that he may repair to 
council with a clear head. His dinner is 
rich and luxurious, at least twelve dishes, 
and those Austrian wines which are deemed 
most spirituous- Purasites. buffoons, guitar- 
players, and songstresses are admitted ; 
those who most endeavour to please, lam- 
poon the emperor, prsiselhe king, and eitol 
the count's (Ulrich Cilly's) deeds. When 
there ba> been enough of dancing and sing- 
ing, he lakes an aflernooa's nap. Upon his 

B»ngaTii—liaHaiii!$ Oct. 

waking, a refreshing draught is presented to 
him, with apples or preserved fruit. He 
then goes to the council, or rides into the 
town and vieits the ladies^ married and sin- 
ele, most renowned for their beauty. When 
he returns home supper Is served, and often 
prolonged into the night. At going to bed 
wine and apples are again set before him, 
and he is urged to eat even against his will. 
Thu-s is his day allotted. Many blamo this, 
especially censuring the Earl who regulates 
it all. Others so hate the emperor that 
thev praise whatever is opposed to his mode 
of life. But the youth's good disposition 
will not be corrupted by these seductions. 
He bears manly earnestness in his young 
breast, drinks not, eats no more than need- 
ful, speaks little, abhors what Is shameful, 
rebukes those who lampoon the emperor ; 
sa^B that he has been well off with that 

Ermce ; calls his uncle holy and moral, and 
ehaves la all things so as to give promise 
-■■a wise ruler." 

The war with ihe Turk was now Hun- 
yadi's chief occupation, and whilst he waged 
it with varying success, Ladislaus listened 
to his enemy, Cilly \ now cansenting to the 
hero's ruin, now again seeking his friend- 
ship. The last exploit of John Hunyadi 
forcing the Sultan in person to raise 
liege of Belgrade ; and upon litis oc- 
casion he had the aid of an ally very cha- 
racteristic of the age and of that remote part 
of Europe. Count Mailfith thus depicts him 
id his proceedings. 

" Whilst the estates of the realm were as- 
sembled at Buda, a Franciscan monk came 
thither, a little old man, lean, withered, 
mere skin and bone; but indefatigable in 
labour, ever confident, satisfactory to the 
wise, intelligible to the ignorant, swaying the 
hardest hearts ; this was John Capistran. 
Sent from Itoly by the pope to preacn a cru- 
sade against the Turks, he had traversed 
Austria, Bohemia, Poland, and reached Hun- 
gary, where the danger was greatest, the 
need most urgent. Bishops and commu. 
nities wrote, praying him to gladden them 
with his presence ; thousands awaited him 
when he came, thousands followed him when 
Ve went. The sick recovered when he 
rayed ; when he preached, which was 
uaify, twenty and thirty thousand hearers 
thronged round him. Priests and monks 
beggars, peasants, and students, took up the 
cross. Guns, Ikjws, and slings, pikes, and 
flails, swords, scythes, whips and hatchets, 
were their arms ; awondrousarmy of 60,000 
enthusiasts clamoured round the seventy- 
year-old greybeard. 

" John Capistran joined the regular tioops 
summoned by Hunyadi. The saintand the 
knight of Christendom marched together 
against the heroes of blam." 

In justice to Giovuitti di Capistrnno, so 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

History of the Magj/nrt. 

named from his birlh-ptace in the Abruzzi, 
and of whom Count Maildth speaks some- 
what slighlingly, it should be slated that he 
WHS nor, as might be lupposed, a mere en- 
thusiftal working aympathetically upoa the 
fanalicism of his hearers, but a man of ex- 
tnKirdinary erudition, nnd in those days 
highly renowned for his success in polemi- 
cal divinity. Previous to undertaking ' Cilly and Ladislaus Hunyadi, the eldest son 
this crusadC) he had combated with his pen J of ihe deceased hero, and in which CiHy was 
almost every heresy then disluibing the the aggressor, ended In his death. The 
Catholic Church. king pardoned the dead, and professed to the 

ble ; the King twice visited him. The first 
time Caplstran could ndTance to receive 
him ; the second he could not rise from his 
bed ; but with words full of uuction he ad- 
monished the king to protect the Church and 
lead a pious life. This done he presently 

Soon after (his a brawl between Ulrich 

Hunyadi attacked and defeated 
the besieging host, and entered Belgrade 
with bis army : the monk's bands there 
proved, as was to be expected, unruly; but 
their disobedient rashness appears to have 
been most twnelicial in its results. 

"Hunyadi) a prudent commander, ata- 
tk)aed his troops in the town, and forbade, 
on pain of death, any person to venture out- 
aide the walls, the Turks being still too nu- 
merous. His troops obeyed, not so the cru- 
saders ; singly, in small or large bodies, they 
sallied forth, and fell upon the Turks. Five 
crusaders were assailed by a disproportioned 
number of Turks ; they defended themselves 
wilb arrows, others hastened to their asalst- 

wldovr of Hunyadi the utmost regard for her- 
self and her two sons. But under this show 
of good will, having got both brothers into 
his hands, he caused the elder to be publicly 
beheaded, and kept the younger, Mathias 
Corvinus, in close custody. The bereaved 
mother and widow, in conjunction with her 
brother, Michael Szilogyi, armed their friends, 
levied troops, and prepared for hostilities ; 
hut in the midst of their preliminary opera- 
tions an inflammation of the bowels suddenly 
carried off King Ladislaus, a very few 
months afler the execution of Ladislaus 

The parly of the Hunyadis, am>ed and 
, ,. ■ . „ " .1- unarmed, now increased daily ; and by the 

, and thus eradualy commenced a skir-„;j „i.i,;. ,,._-„„ a~;i_„,; .„i,L.j^ ;„ „ 

mish', that grew^more and more considerable, , ""^ °^ >"» !«»?«. S^'l-gy' succeeded m pro- 
more and more serious. When Capistran "'"""S the election of his nephew Maihiaa 
saw this, he led in person the remainder of Corvinus, who, in January, 1469, was pro- 
the crusaders to the battle ; himself unarmed, , claimed King of Hungary, 
in his hand only a staff on which was carved Mathias was then a lad of fifteen, and tbia 
the sacred sign of the cross. Hunyadi then is a yet more extraordinary instance of the 
inoved out with his troops, either to decide election of a minor, thnn when the choice 
S?"^'°^y>'i' protect the crusaders if beaten. I fe,, ^^^ ,^0 natural heir,of a deceased king. 
Szilagyi was at the same time appointed 
Gubemator for five years. The new mon- 

The Turks fought like desperate men. Mo- 1 
hammed himself like a hero as yet unac- 
quainted with defeat. But the crusaders 
pressed on more and more Irresistibly ; the 
Turkish works were stormed, the Sultan 
himself was wounded : tbe whole army fled 
in wild disorder, carrying their bleeding 
■overeien along with them : only at Adriano- 
pie could be check ibe flight, by the exe- 
cution of some of the most considerable lead- 
ers. In Ihe siege, battle, and flight, 50,000 
Turks perished. The booty of tne victors 
was immense, the exultation of Christendom 

"But the joy of rescued Hungary was 
soon turned to mourning, for twenty days 
after the victory died John Hunyadi. When 
he felt the approach -of death, and the holy 
sacrament should have been brought to him, 
he suffered it not : but caused himself to be 
carried to the church, there to receive the 
body of our Lord. He expired immediately 
afterwards, at the age of (ifly-slx. In the 
arms of Capistran, his friend and companion 
in arms. The greatest men Hungarian his- 
tory can boast, a man throughout blameless 
and admirable, if he had not Deen Gomctimes 
cruel. Soon after Ihe hero's death Capis- 
tran began to sicken. When King Ladislaus 
came to Belgrade, he was already very fee- 

arch was at the moment of his elevation a 
prisoner at Prague j but the powerful George 
Podiebrad, subsequently elected King of Bo- 
hemia, immediately released him ; first how> 
ever bestowing his daughter Catherine upon 
him in marriage. 

Mathias was, and still is, considered by 
his countrymen as the greatest king that ever 
reigned ,in Hungary; and a compatriot 
opinion thus unanimously entertained by 
coDtempararics and posterity must have great 
weight. The faults that we feel as painful 
drawbacks upon his really great qualities, 
chiefly an ambition unmarked by principle 
and a tendency to arbitrary measures, were 
the faults of his age and country ; sympathy 
prevented their being then felt as defects; 
and conduct instigated by sentiments then 
deemed generous and exalted, should not ia 
fairaess be measured or appreciated by the 
more phQosophic standard of the nineteenth 

Almost the first act of Mathias displayed 
this ambition, and its TeckleiatiesB of all re. 




ttniaiag lies. He was inuatienl f>f the au- 
tbwity (^ the ancle to whom he mainly 
ttwed hk erawB, and threw him into piieon. 
Seilagyi efiteted his escape ; and Hathias, 
whose object was now accompliahed in the 
possession of the fU! regal a atharity, blushed 
at his owQ ingratitude, and was reconciled to 

The young monarch next turned his 
thoughts to the orgauizatioa of ao army ; 
aad in the edict he published upon this occa- 
aioD, origioates the name atill borne by one 
description of troops. He ordered every 
twenty military vassals to furnish a warrior ; 
and we learn from MaiJ&th that "the man 
thus furnished was called a kuiaar, from 
hu», twenty, and or, price." Whether the 
original law tbr the service of the tenth or 
eighth man had become oheolote, is not, that 
we can find, staled. 

Mathias bad abundant occasion for the 
army thus organized. The Turks were still 
in arms i but before he could make head 
against them he had to oppose a cqmbiDation 
of domestic and foreign enemies. His elec. 
tioQ had not been unaikimoua ; and the friends 
of the Cillys, with all other adversaries of the 
Huoyadis, now tendered their allegiance to 
the Emperor Frederic, who hod the crown 
of St. Stephen in his poseeasion. The me- 
diation of the Pope and of King George 
Podlebrad of Bohemia, aided by the growing 
reputation of Mathias, and the equally grow- 
ing danger from the Tui-ks, induced Frederic 
io the end to abandon his pretensions. The 
king first quelled the insurgents by arms, and 
then turned his attention to the Turks. His 
first campaign againtit them is thus de- 

"Uathias Corvinus now drew the sword. 
To the frontier commandants was enjoined 
the utmost vigilance during the time that he 
was asaemhiraK his troops. Whilst the king 
proceeded to ine Save, much fighting occur- 
red upon the frontiers. The inroads of the 
Turks extended as far as Putak, which with 
difficulty resisted these marauders. Michuel 
and Peter Zucholi fell uoon them ; Ali Beg, 
who rronlically defended himself, was con- 
strained to fly. Near Temoawar 4000 Turks, 
driven back on all sides, were slain- Mathias 
crossed the frontiers, and marched straight 
upon Jaiesa, (the capital of Bosnia, just con- 
quered by Uohammed,) which was garri- 
■oneJ by 7000 Turks. The commandant, 
Haram Beg, held out for a month and u half. 
The king's perseverance triumphed over the 
obstinacy of the enemy and the severity of 
the seoaon. The young monarch entered 
Buda a? Ibe conqueror of a kingdom and de- 
liverer of 15,000 Christian prisoners. Haram 
Beg and the captive Turks enhanced Ibe 
splendour of bis triumph. 

" Mohammed, incenrod at the fall of laiesa, 

raBolved to recover it With immensa num- 
bers he appeared before the walls ; the can. 
non thundered uQceoslngiy ; and when the 
fortifications were deemed sufficiently shak- 
en, the Sultan divided his host into Uiree 
ports, assigning to each a day for storming. 
The rarrison resisted the thxee days' fury. 
The Turks were discouraged ; and when 
Bmerich Szekheli approached to relieve the 
town, the report that Hatbtas in person led 
the advancing army, multiplied its numbera- 
The Sultan raised the siege ; and so pre- 
cipitate was the retreat that many guna with 
a great quantity of baggsKe was left be&re 
the town, and feU into the nandi of the Hun- ' 

Whether Mathias ever entertained faja 
father's projects for expelling the Turks 
from Europe, does not appear. In fiict he 
himself, like the other princes of Europe and 
even the then spiritual head of Cbrislendom, 
the Pope, though regarding Uie Osmanli 
with hatred, seems to have been ecaicdy 
sensible of the magnitude of the danger 
from the warlike and enterprising temper of 
these new intruders into Europe ; otherwise 
they would not have suSerea every petty 
private interest to divert them from the com- 
mon object. This, to Matiiias in particuhtr, 
should have been a paramount consideration ; 
yet the pursuit of a second kingdom was pre- 
ferred by him to the defence of that in his 

Papal intolerance induced the revocation 
of the indulgences previously granted by the 
Roman See to the Utraquiat heretics of Bo> 
Itemia. George Podiebrad, though himself 
an orthodox Catholic, interfered on behalf of 
his subjects ; and the Pope, Paul II., in con. 
sequence deposed him, ofTering liis crown to 
his son-in-law Mathias. His beautiful and 
beloved young queen, the daughter of George, 
was no more ; she had died childless ; and 
although his attachment to her memory long 
prevented the widower from marrying again, 
it had not the power to restrain his ambition. 
He accepted the Pope's offer and invaded 
Bulicmia. The commence me at of hostili- 
ties is thus described : 

"Mathius encamped near Lau on the 
March. He was received with rejoicings by 
Ibe citizens, as the Emperor's ally ; the ar- 
senal woe opened to him, and provisions were 
abundantly supplied. On the opposite bank 
of the March encamped Podiebrad. Thus 
they — -— '- - -— ■ 

ment, they were unlike io age, and the qual- 
ities of their armies. Podiebrad was sixty, 
Mathias hardly iwenty-fivc. The Buhemians 
were the most renownod infuntry in the 
whole world, the Hungarians were formida- 
ble &om their numbers and the boldness of 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


their cavalry. The reiourcea of the two 

K-inces were equally various. The king of 
ungary had the Pope and the Emperor for 
allies, and waa supported by the Catholic 
Bohemians: but mighty foes weie rising 
behind him, aud his own subjects reluctantly 
saw themselves involved in an expel 
and deetructive war. Podiebrad had ni 
berents e:fcept the Utraquist Bohemiaas, but 
these were fired with the wild fanaticism of 
religious enthusiasts. 

"The two princes frequently saw each 
other on the banks ofthe river, and conversed) 
sometimes in wrath, oflcner in recollection 
of post friendly times. At length the princi- 
pal men on either side endeavoured to me- 
diate a peace ; but the Cardinal Legate Lo- 
renzo, in Corvinua's camp, interposed ; the 
Prince of Peace became the Apc^stle of Dis- 
cord, and the negotiations were broken off." 

The war was hard fought on both aides, 
Malhiaa made great progress in Moravia 
and Silesia, but none In Bohemia, which 
however he invaded with increased forces, 
laying all waste with fire and sword. 

■* Podiebrad now proposed peace. The two 
kings met ; they convemd alone, and the 
Cardinal Legate, who accompanied Hath ias 
everywhere, dreaded the conclusion of peace. 
This however was not accomplished, but 

HiaoTg of the Magyara. 

companied Mathias to Olmiltz. There the 
Carainal Legate suggested to the king that 
he might end the war at a stroke by making 
George's two sons prisoners) but Mathias 
indignantly rejected the advice. At the end 
of the truce Hathiasbelda diet at 01miitz,Bt 
which he was proclaimed king by the Bohe- 
mian Catholics; whether he was likewise 
crowned, is doubtful. Whilst Malhifis visited 
the chief Sileslan towns to receive homage, 
Podiebrad held a diet at Prague, for the elec- 
tion of n king. It was generally expected 
that he would propose one of his own gallant 
9ons; but he passed them by, and recom- 
mended Wladialaua, the eldest son of the 
Polish King Casimir, to the Bohemians. The 
proposal pleased them, and they offered 
Wladislaus the succession to the crown, but 
upon conditions." ^ 

These conditions were, their own and 
their king's reconciliation, through him, with 
the Roman See, the ratification of their pri- 
vileges, ample princely provision for Podie- 
brad's family, and Wladislaus's marriage 
with the daughter of the latter. Podiehrad's 
death shortly followed ; Mathias and Wlad- 
islaus were severally proclaimed King of 
Bohemia by (heir respective partisans, and | 
the war continued. 


hemian war, which exhausted the slren^h 
of the country, and left it, on the other sidei 
exposedto the incursions of the Turks, turned 
to Casimir, King of Poland, and asked his 
second son, Prince Casimir, for their king. 
The oldest friends of the house of Uunyaifl, 
even Vitfec, Archbishop of Gran, fell off from 
Hathias; of the seventy-five counties into 
which Hungary was then divided, only nine, 
ofthe grandees onl^ the Archbishop of Ko- 
locza, and the Palatine, remained true to the 
king. • • • Mathias, informed by the 
Chapter of Gran of the danger menacing 
him, hastened back to Hungary, and held a 
diet at Buda, by which he regained looat of 
those who had fallen off from him. * * ' 
Casimir vainly expected to be joined by the 
Hungarian grandees who had visited him, 
for the Buda diet had borne good fruit. * • 
Casimir feared to be besieged by Mathias in 
Neutra ; he left 4000 men to defend the castia 
and fled, unpuraued, ^et with such hurry 
that sixty waggons fell into the hands of the 

Mathias now sought to conciliate the 
Archbishop, who had been the chief pro- 
moter of the attempt to supplant him ; but 
when he had completely cleared his realm 
of a!! the Palish invaders, he turned upon 
his ecclesiastical enemy, confined him in one 
of his own archiepiacopal castles, and trans* 
fcrred the management of his diocese to the 
Bishop of Erlan. He then returned to the 
invasion of Bohemia; where his strategical 
abilities prevented his rival's deriving any 
advantage from hit very superior numbers. 
A truce for a year and a half suspended 
hostilities, leaving each in possession of what 
he held. 

Mathias had now leisure to attend to the 

incursions of the Turks, who, during his 

Bohemian wars, hod constantly infested 

Hungary, ravaging the country, and carrying 

away sometimes 10,000t sometimes 60,000 

I slavery. He defeated them c« 

ground, and took the fortress of 

Shnbncz. Yet so far were the Turkish 

marauding expeditions from being ended, 

that we are told the king's new bride, the 

Neapolitan Princess Beatrice, whom he 

married tn 1478, "saw everywhere upon her 

road the most recent traces of Turkish de. 

_.., and often passed the night there, 

where the Turks had raged during the day." 

Again was Mathias diverted from his task 
as champion of Christendom, by wars with 
his Christian neighbours, Wladislaus and 
the Emperor Frederic. A peace was, how- 
ever, mediated with the last-named enemj, 
I by the Pope, Venice, and Mathios's Q.ueeo, 

•Wbiht M..hl..wu «,i,mg 10 conquer B««>rlc.;.»dth.Empcro,co.«,»»d»lh, 

hii own. The hunjnrien* dliaUeOed »i4 »' Bohem.e. In point of fact, howerer, the 
hi, nrbitrnry government, diallfcing the Bo- 1 Kingdom wn, divided between the nveli, both i 
VOL. XJIT. 4 ilKH^It. 

Hungary — Maiidth'j 

of whom bore ihe title; irhilat Wladisiaus 
held Bohemia Proper, Mathias Moravia, Si- 
lesia, and Lusatia. 

Id the last invaaioo of Hungary by the 
Turks during the reign of Mathia^, two cir. 
cumstftnces are worth noting. One of the 
ieadere against the Moslim, Paul Kinizsy, 
Earl of Termes, was liumhly born, and pro- 
moted by merit alone.. He was the son of 
a miller ; aerved as a common soldier in these 
wKrs : and having distinguished hirascir by 
headlong audacity and extraordinary bodily 
strength, was raised by the king to this high 
rank of nobility — a. proof that, even in the 
feudal limes, the barriers of birth were not 
actually insuperable to merit The nature 
of the other circumstance is illustrative of 
the then state of civilisation in Hungary. 

"As the Turks brohein, Stephen Batori. 
Woy wode of Transjlvania, called upon Paul 
Kiaizsy, Earl of Termeg, for assistance ; 
whilst, with the warriors whom he could 
hastily collect, he at once threw himself be- 
fore the plundering bands. He engaged 
them on the Brotfdde, (in Hungnrian, Ken- 
j'irmezo.) Such was the Ottoman supe- 
riority in numbers, that the Christian sol- 
diers, tike martyrs, prepared for death by 
receiving the euch&rist Baiori drew up 
his army in two lines, the Szeklers* formed 
the right wing in Ihe first, tho Saxons the left, 
and he himselfwiih the heavy horse, anil Ihe 
Bishop ofTransylvania's people, was in ihe 
centre. The Wallachians and Hungarians 
formed the second tine. One of the most 
desperate of battles began : three thousand 
SazoDS lay dead on the neld or in the waters 
of the MaroB; the Szeklers gave way, the 
Woywode led to the combat all that remained 
able to fight ; two horses were killed under 
him, his olood streamed from aix wounds . 
when, behold ! at the highest, the utmost 
need, Kinizsj appeared ! Like a maddened 
lion, in each hand a sword, the man of giant's 
Strength dashed in nmongst the enemy. He 
cut himself a path thither where Batori was 
fighting with dying exertions : the victory 
was won, thirty thousand Turks strewed the 
field of battle. The released captives min- 
gled In exulting thankfulness with the vic- 
tors, and revelled in the plenty of the hostile 

" Upon the corses of the slain Turks the 
conquerors spread their meal, whilst they 
BanKezlemporesongsin praise of their gen- 
eraU. They danced amidst the dead bodies. 
Kinizsy was challenged to Join in the round. 
With herculean strength he seized a dead 
man with his teeth, so lirted him from the 
ground unaided by his hands, and with the 
com hanging freely waltzed in the circle, 
to the astonishment of all the spectators.'' 

* Tha Sieklen, one of the nces or tnbcB found 
in HoDju; by the H&gykn, oceap]' part of Tran- 
■jlnnis, which, inuouier iMrt,hu been cobnixed 


Peihapa few things are more remarkaUe 
in the life of this king than the splendour he 
maintained amidst all these incessant wars; 
which, with the exception of the Turkish, 
his subjects reprobated, and unwillingly sus- 
tained by personal service or pecuniary con- 
tributions. The dislike appears in various 
iawa, calculated to restrain his ambiiion and 
somewhat arbitrary government, extorted 
from Mathias by different diets- Yet we have 
the following description of the magnificence 
he displayed at an interview with Wlodis- 

"The princes had a meeting atOlmOtz, 
when Maihias exhibited oriental pomp. For 
a whole fortnight tournaments, comedies, and 
balls succeeded each other. In the square 
a pvramid was erected, bv way of buffet, 
thiclc-set^ from the ground to the summit, 
with drmking vessels of gold and silver. 
Upon ten tables placed round it the banquet 
was spread ; but not a cup was removed 
from ine pyramid for the use of the guests, 
such was the profusion of the king's service 
of gold and silver. Mathias had royally 
furnished the lodgings of the Bohemian no- 
bles, and especially that of Wladislaus, the 
waltsof which were covered with hangings 
of silk and gold. When the princes sepa- 
rated, Mathias bestowed gifle upon all the 
Bohemian grandees, and presented to King 
WladlslHus ihe whole furniture of Ihe house 
in which he had resided." 

In corroboration of the magnificence of 
Malhiaa, we give the following extract from 
a letter written by the legate, Bishop Cas- 
telli, to Pope Pius II., and which is part of 
ihe Papal Correspondence touching Hun- 
gary, inserted by Count Mail&th in bia third 

''I had imagined that this king must be 
impoverished ny the long war, as was sug- 
gested to me at Gratz ; and in enumerating 
the causes which should induce peace, this 
was not the last I mentioned ; hence, I con- 
ceive, a friend of mine invited me, on the 
20lh, to Inspect the palace ; than which, with 
the good leave of Italy, 1 must say, she poa- 
sesaes not a finer or a larger. Introduced 
into the wardrobe, I saw so many costly gar- 
ments, loaded with gold, jewels, and pearls ; 
such tapestrv hangings ; so many gold and 
silver vessels wrought with exquisite skill, 
that I deem fifty men* could not carry them. 
Amongst other things I saw steps, (qy. stove, 
in Latin ttuffam, in German itt^e,) of pure 
silver, of such height and size that two per- 
sons can scarcely embrace ihem ; also two 
unicoma, the one like a common horse, the 
other like an asa, with their real horns ; 

b* B miimke tot noatfru. 


HutonfofAe JHdjjnra. 


fuither, admimble crucifixea and tdtar orna- 
inents, upwards of 590 large dishes, 300 gold- 
SB goblets, and treacbera and tHUiDS witQout 
number, all which canaat is tmtb be juatlj 
eitlmated. Such precious houiehold Btuffi 
auch precioua platCi such aa adorned hall 
bare 1 aeen of this king's, that I beiie*e the 
gIor7 of Sotomoa could itot be greater." 

This, perhaps, lathe place formeatioDing, 
that to Hathias Corriuus ws are said io owe 
(he inveotioQ of posting ia carriagoSf and, 
indeed, of carriages themselves ; coachea 
deriving their very name from Hungary — 
Tor Count Mail&th saya : — 

" Tomori made use of the poatiag estab- 
lished by Malhias Corvinus, and journeved 
in one of the light carria^a, called foot by 
the Hungarians, to the king at Vissegrad." 

And in a note he a{>pends to this [he fol- 
lowing explanation : 

" The light Hungarian carriages, dr^wn 
by three boraea, changed horses e?ery four 
or six mUes, [German miles of course, each 
equal to upwards of four Bagllsh miles.] 
* • • Thecarriagesderivedtheirnamefrom 
the town Kocs ; either because invented 
there, or because the Kocs peasants were the 
beat drivers. * * * Lithiua, in his notes oq 
Bonfin, calls Matbios Corvinus the inventor 
of these carriages. And even if he did not 
invent tbecarriage himself, the arntngemeat 
for changing carriage and horses may, with 
all likelihood, be attributed to him." 

But however the Hungariana might object 
to the balligereat propensities of Malhias, or 
to hia occasioQal assumptioa of arbitrary 
power, he waa, during bia life, and remained 
after death, their darling and their pride. 
The fond admiration still attached to his 
name may have been enhanced by the disas- 
ters that followed his death, from Turkish 
conquest, civil wars, and final loss of inde- 
pendence; but that it does not spring from 
such causes, that it existed amongst tus con- 
tempo rarle>i, is evident from the number of 
anecdotes, and of pictures by pen and pen- 
cil, of their ^reat king, preserved and trans- 
mitted to us. To these MaiMth dedicates a 
while chapter, from which we shall mak{< 
ample extracts. He begins with the per- 
sonal appearance of his hero. 

" Mathios was of a middle stature : with 
hair reddish and curly, eyes black, large, 
vivacious, and fiery, oflea suffused as it 
were with blood; his face was ruddy, bf- 
nose siraighti his mouth rather wide, hi 
gazo the Ifon's. Whomsoever he looked 
full in the face, to him he was favourably 
disposed ; him to whom Ije gave a side 

fiance, be disliked. He was widc-cheited, 
road-shouldered ; his fingers were long, 

and the little one he seldom straightened. 
The aspect of the man was martral ; and 
when he sat on horseback he seemed larger 
than usual. 

" Four pictures of him have come down 
to UB, all contemporary, all dissimilar- * " 

" Mathias waa one of the best horsemen 
of his time, and skilful in all martial exer- 
cises. His knowledge was great. Besides 
his mother-Iongue, be was acquainted with 
the Qerman, Sclavonian, Latin, and Bulga- 
rian or Turkish languages. The classics 
were his favourite study : be was familiar 
with FroQlinus and Vegetius, and on 
retiring to rest he read Livy or ^uin- 
tus Curtius, to whom he was very par- 
tial, or soma other classic, after he was In 
bed. He likewise read the Holy Scriptuies 
very diligently, and astonished thoae atraut 
him with the number of texts he auoted by 
heart He was addicted to astrwagy, and 
not unversed In other sciences, altaough 
he bestowed no especial study upon them. 
He owed this to his constant intercourse 
with the learned men of his court, and to 
his natural quickness. 

" To business he most sedulously attend- 
ed. He read every letter immediately ; 
the answers he generally directed his pri- 
vate secretary to write, and read them 
over ; but frequently be dictated or wrote 
them himself. His autograph style was 
most laconic ; of which two specimens may 
suffice. Upon occasion of a dispute re- 
specting the nomination to a prebend, he 
wrote to the Pope : ' Yout Holiness may 
be assured that the Hungarian nation wiH 
rather convert the double cross that is the 
ensign of our realm into a triple cross, 
than suffer the benefices and prelacies be. 
longing of right to the crown, to be con- 
ferred by the apostolic see.' A letter in 
his own hand to the men of Buda runs 
thus :— ' Mathias, by Qod'a Grace, King of 
Hungary. Good-morrow, citizens. Ifyou 
do not all come to the King, you lose your 
heads. Buda. The King.' " 

'' With the troops he lived as with his 
equals. He knew every common soldier 
by name- He visited the sick io their tents, 
and himself administered their medicines ; 
the desponding he encouraged ; in battle 
he oflen bound up wounds with his own 
hand. Accordingly the army was devoted 
to him, even unto death. The troops often 
fought without pay. 

" In the first year of his reign he lived 
like the old Magyar kings. The palace 
was negligently, or not at all guarded. 
Many tEibles were daily laid, at which he 
eat In friendship and sociability with the 
great men of his kingdom. The Aoon 
were open during the repast ; beggars and 
collectors entered freely, and every one, 
even the poorest, might speak to the king. 
Subsequently, when he had married Bea. 
trice, he was more reserved. The court 
was regulated afler the Italian fashion, aitd 
the residence adorned with all the luxury - 
oflhesge. Door-keepers were appointed, 


IhrngaTj — JIhiiaA't 

stated times did he nppear, and administer 

'■ In one of hia Turkish campaigns he 
visited the enemy's camp, with a single 
companion, Lwth disguised aspeasants. All 
day long Hathias sold ealabTen before the 
teniof the Turkish general. In the even- 

statement named the dishes that had been 
served up to the Ottoman. The Moslem 
was scared and fled. 

" At the siege of Shabacz he disguised 
himself as a common soldlert got Into a 
small boat with a single attendant and a 
rower, and was rowed along the fortress, 
in quest of the tiest place to assauit. The 
Turks fired upon them : the attendant was 
killed, but the king, without a symptom of 
alarm, continued his exploration of the 

We here adduce another anecdote reta* 
live to the aame subject, which our author 
has separated from it. In fact he seems lo 
have written his anecdotes as he happened 
to light upon them, without the slightest re- 
gard to order or classification. 

" During the siege of Vienna the klngen- 
tered the town in disguise, and afler strol- 
ling about sat a long time, as though to 
rest. Suddenly it was rumoured that Ma- 
thlas was within the walls, and he was 
every where sought. The report reached 
bim ; without discovering any alarm, he 
took a wheel in which was a broken spoke, 
and rolling it before him, walked along the 
street, passed out of the gate, and returned 
to his camp. When Vienna was taken, the 
Hungarians, in commemoration of his dis- 

Sise, danger, and escape, caused his 
age to be carved in stone, and set it up 
in the place where he had so long sat and 

The following anecdotes of his mode of 
giving audience evince great adroitness in 
baffling arrogance, and extraordinary read- 
iness and powers of mind. 

" A Turkish ambassador boasted that 
be bad by his eloquence swayed at his plea- 
sure every prince to whom he had been sent, 
and tbateven so would lie manage King Ma- 
thias. Mathias was informed of the vaunt, 
and ordered Neustadt, which he was then 
besiegingi to be stormed upon the day ap- 
pointed Tor the Turk's audiencp. Hs led 
him to the scene of action, received hia 
communications amidst a shower of balls 
and arrows ; answered upon the instant, 
and dismissed him. The envoy was so 
amazed and bewildered that he entirely 
forgot the king's answer. In vain did be 
beseech its repetition ; Maihias gave him 


a letter to Bajazet, in which he requested 
the sultan to send him in future men who 
were capable ol noting a message. 

''At Vissegradhe once received a Turk- 
ish envoy in full regal state : and looked 
at him so formidably that the diplomatist 
altogether lorgot bis errand, and could say 
nothing more than, ' The Emperor greets;' 
' The Emperor greets.' Thereupon the 
king turned to his court and said, < See 
what beasts are suffered, by our own fault, 
to ravage our lands and those of other 
princes l ' Then followed the proclsmatioo 
of a Turkish war, and the Moslem was sent 

" Envoys from the King of Poland pre- 
sented themselves at Vissegrad, and made 
a speech in the Polish tongue that lasted 
full two hours. When it was ended Mathi- 
as inquired whether they wished the an- 
swer to be in Polish or in latin 1 The en- 
voys referred that lo the king's pleasure. 
Then did the king recapitulate all that the 
envoys had said during these two hours, 
improved the arrangement of their matter, 
and refuted it point by point, to the aston- 
ishment of the envoys and of all present.'' 

Of this monarch's love of justice, we are 

"The king's justice was so generally 
known as to have become proverhiaL The 
Magyar says even to the present day, 
'Malhioa is dead and justice is lost.' " 

• • • « • 

■> When the war brokeout t>etween Hun< 
sary and Austria, a brave officer accosted 
Sfathlas with a request for leave to join the 
Emperor Frederic, to whom he had pledged 
himself by oath to return in case of war, be 
be where he might. The king dismissed 
hira with rich presents, and extolled him 
highly for having preferred his oath lo bis 
own interest and a king's favour." 

" It was reported to the king that some 
of his court designed to poison him. The 
accusation did not seem improbable ; but 
Haihlas repliedr 'He wfao governs justly 
has neither poison nor dsgger to fear ; and 
what is most probable is uot always true.'" 

As Mathias was deemed by his sut^cts 
and himself so jujt a king, he may have 
fancied, however erroneously, the right to 
be on his side in his attempt lo wrest Bohe- 
mia from his falher-in-law. The following 
however shows somewhat whimsically ilist 
his notions of right and wrong were derived 
strictly from precedent. 

" nurlnR the Bohemian war, a person 
ace .-.ted Mathias Corvinus, and undertook 
to slay King Guorge by the swuid, in con- 
sideration of a reward of 50OO ducats. 
Mathias promised him the reward, but tbe 
man presently aaw that the thing vos Im- 

liqitized by Google 

tSMory of the MttggUft 

practicable. He returned to Uaihiu, con- 
fessed that he found it impossible to kill 
King Fodiebrad by the sword, but offered 
to poison him. Mathias forbatle hitn, say- 
ing : ■ The Roman Fabricius warned his 
enemy Pyrrbus against poison.' And he 
forthwith sent to admoniBn Kin^ George to 
have his food lasted, aa he was in danger of 
being poisoned." 

The next anecdote ahall be our last, and 
should perhaps have followed tbe account of 
tbe king's skill in martial exercises, but 
comes not amiss as the close. 

a sad sight to behold the king, tortured with 
pain, and unable to speak, whilst -only the 
)qi ! jqj ! {oh! oh!) of suffering, or the 
sacred name of Jesus, passed his ups. The 
queen alone retained presence of mind ; 
she encouraged the physicians, forcibly 
opened his firmly-compressed lips, and ad- 
ministered medicine ; she opened his half- 
closed eyes ; she left nothing unattempted 
to recall him to life. His pains neverthe- 
less increased ; he sometimes roared like a 
lion ; his greatest erief was that be could 
not speak. He looted now at the queen, 

" There came to Buda a stout combatant, 
named Holubar, of marvellous size ant) 
strength, who was reputed invincible in 
tournament The kin^, excited by his 
fame, challenged him. Holubar declined 
the proposed tilting match ; but Mathl" 

now at his son; he was evidently struggling 
for words- The queen tried to guess his 
thoughts, and asked did he mean this or 
that T in vain ! He could neither assent 
nor deny. So passed this day and the next. 
His sufferings then relaxed, but he remained 
dumb. In the morning of the third day, it 
Li.Li.ic u.aL,.u Ljut ^^^,..^^ was conjectured from his gestures that he 
defied liim a second lime. ' Holubar then i »"" appealing to the mere;- of God ; end 
accepted the challenge, resolving I o yield ' ^ef ore eight o clock, Mathias was dead." 
to the king's least blow, and let himself be , [«« "J^ n*" ^^Y yea« of age.J ^ 
unhorsed. This was reported to Mathias, 

who compelled Holubar to take an oath \ "}^ cannot possibly quit the history 
that he would fight with him (the kinp) as 1 ?V !^^^* king, without quoUng the 
with his worst enemy. • • • Many Judgment of an able and experienced 
thousand men witnessed the tournament. JJ^n, namely, the Apostolic Le^te Castelli. 

The two combatants fan at each other 
Holubar, struck on the head and borne 
backwards off his horse, lay swooning on 
the ground, with a broken arm. The king, 
struck on the breast by his antagonist a 
spear, fell sideways out of the saddle, but 
held himself on by the horse's mane. Ma- 
thias caused Holubar to be well leeched, 
and upon his recovery bestowed rich gar- 
ments and much money upon him." 

We mutt now turn to the close of this ex- 
traordinary man's life. He had no legiti- 
mate children, and tried hard to induce the 
Estates of the kingdom to choose his natur- 
al son, John Corvinus, for a successor. In 
this he failed, partly by the opposition of 
Queen Beatrice, who seems, however, 
have been instigated either by a step-mothc: 
feelings or by a hope of marrying the ni 
king, and not by conjugal jealousy ; fur John 
Corvinus, now of man's eslate, mvibt have 
been born prior lo her marriage. In the 
midst of his exertions for this object, and in 
the vigour of matthood, death overlook Ma- 

" It waa on Palm Sunday that he return- 
ed from church fatigued ; he ordered din- 
ner 10 wait for the queen, but asked for 
some figs. Bad ones, thai he could 
were brought him. and he was exceedingly 
angered. The queen now came in ; soolh 
cdliim, and offered him various viands 
but he refused all, complained of dizzineei 
und a cloud before his eyes, and was led to 
his room, where he was struck with apo- 
plexy. John Corvinus, the Bistiopof Erluu, 
and ull Ihe lirandeea poured in ; and it was 

He writes to the Pope 
learned, he speaks with 

•The king is 

talent, eloquence, morals, art, and valour, 
I find that he surpasses all the princes 1 
know, without a single exception. Most 
Holy Father! Thiskingisof an unwearied 
spirit; he is wholly martial, thinks but of 
war, and carries it on wiihout many words." 

The sun of tlungary set with Mathias 
Corvinus ; and the remainder of the his- 
oryoflhe Magyars is saddening. Ye I its 
gloom is occasionnliy relieved by some 
gleams of iniellecL and heroism. Of the 
lowerful Jesuit we have already spoki-n, 
md we canuot take our final leave of the 
ubject without bringing bebre the reader 
inBofihosi; invincibly resolute defences of 
besieged towns, to which we have hereto- 
fore alluded. 

■' When the SuUan appeared twfore 
Szigeth, A.D. 1566, he saw the walls hung 
with red cloth, as though for a festal recep- 
tion, and a single gr<:at cannon thundered 
once, to greet the mighty warrior monarch. 
Zrinyi asscmbk'd his troops, swore in their 

Eresence to hold out to the last drop of his 
lood, and required a similar onih from 
them. He ilicn issued severe orders ; 
whoever disobeys his commanders ; who. 
ever receives or reads a Turkish letter ; 
whuever finds a letter shot into the tnwn 
with an arrow, or otherwise introduced, and 
biiugii ii not instantly lo his commander to 
bo burnt ; whoever deserts his post ; who- 
ever speaks secretly with another; whoever 
sees such things and dcclares^bem not; 

Maildth't Bulory of the Magi/ari. 


whoever Bte&ls b airlgio fhrtblng, shall be 
forthwith executed. The gates were 
blocked up i the gardeni and hedges that 
tnigbt have shoUered the Janizaries, burnt. 
" The Turks assaulted tbe new town on 
three eidea ; they pre»ed on so powerfultf 
the whole dar long, they coDtinued tbe 
attftck so hotly through the night, that 
Zrinyi despaired of its defence, and next 
morning sec fire tb the now town. The 
Janizaries occupied the smouldering ruina, 
and thence fired upon the Chrielians in the 
old town." 

We paas orer several repulsed storms, ks 
too long to detail. 

" Not content with the force of arms, the 
Turks likewise tried craft and aeductioa. 
German, Croatian, and Hungarian writings 
werA shot into the town wilb arrowa ; Ihey 
were so many exbortationa to the troops to 
surrender upon honourable terms instead of 
uaelessly resisting. To Njcklas Zrinyi 
himself the Sultan promised the whole of 
Croatia. The hero had a harder trial to 
surmount, when he saw his son's banner 
wave in the Turkish camp, heard his son's 
trumpeter wiad the well-known war-song 
in the Ottoman army. Zrinyi was to be led 
to believe that his sou was prisoner to the 
Moslem, in order to be induced to reileem 
him with the fortress. The fact however 
was otherwise,— young Zrinyi was in the 
emperor's camp ; only his standard-bearer 
and trurapeler had fallen into the hands of 
the Turks. 

" Vainly did Zrinyi gaze around ; no re- 
lieving army appeared, and he knew but 
too well that a fortress must fall if not re- 
lieved. The Turks stormed and 

into Zrinyi'B hands. Three days after, the 
assault was more vehemently renewed ; the 
anniversary of the battle of Mohacs, of the 
capture of Buda and Belgrade, was to be 
glorified by the fall of Szigelh : but the 
efforts of the Osmanii were unavailing. A 
few days later the Turks stormed more de- 
cisively. During tbe fight ther managed 
to set fire to the houses in ine fortress. 
Though pressed from without by the Otto- 
man arms, from within by the con Hag rati on, 
Zrinyi battled still. Twice did the T-jrks 
break in, twice were they diivcn out; at 
length the flames approached ihc powder 
magazine ; the Turks had atruguled in on 
the opposite side, and Zrinyi retreated per- 
force into tbe Inner casile. From its walls 
the wavca of Ottoman war again recoiled. 
Solyman, peevish and impatient, wrote wilh 
his own hand to the grand vizier ! ■ Is not 
this chimney yet burnt out. and sound not 
yet the cymbals of conquest V He lived not 
to joy in the fall of Szigeth, but died that 
night of dysentery, apoplexy, or old age. 
"The grand vizier, Mehmed Szokoli, con- 
cealed the padishah's death, and zealously 
prosecuted the siege. Three days Zrinyi 


held out In the inner caatle ; proviaioiit he 
had none ; women and^ children wora 
tertshtngof hunger and thirst; the Turks 
flung in fire, and the roofa were in fiames ; 
the death-hour had struck. Zrinyi ordered 
bis chamberlain Thawz Serenk, to adorn 
him as for a feetival : he coacealed the key 
of tbe fortress in his garment, with an 
adjunct of 100 Hungarian ducats, ' In order,' 
he said, ■ that he who strips me may not 
complam of want of booty ! From four 
sabres he chose that which his father had 
wielded, wilh which be himself had in youth 
ridden into his first battle. Thus be appear- 
ed amongst his men, who awaited him 
crowded together in the courtyard. He ez- 
borled them to think of God and their 
country, took a single shield from his 
chamberlain, and ordered the gate to be 
thrown open. The Turks were rushing on, 
he fired a great mortar that lay under tlie 
gate, and the foremost rank fell. With the 
battle-cry of J»ui.' Zrinyi rushed out; his 
standard-bearer, Juranicn, waved his ban- 
ner before him, hi& men stormed after bim. 
Two balls in his breast and an arrow in his 
head laid him low. Wilh the exultation 
of victory the Janizaries shouted Aliak I 
lifW him up, bore him above their heads to 
their age, laid bim, face downwards, on 
Kabzianer's cannon, and struck off his head. 
"Death, flames, and confusion held 
divided swav in the conquered castle ; tbe 
Janizaries datightered women and children 
when they could not at once agree as to 
their allot men I. Zrinyi'a chamberlain, 
treasurer, and cup-bearer, were taken alive ; 
their beards were shorn and burnt in scorn, 
and they were dragged before the grand 
vizier. He asked for Zrinyi's treasures. 
Then did the cup-bearer, a nobly-born. 
proud-spirited youth, reply; ' 100,000 Hun. 
garian ducats, 100,000 dollors, 1000 goblets 
and other vessels has Zrinyi consumed; 
what remains, scarcely 5000 ducats, lies in 
a chest- But of powder he has plenty, and 
soon will it eiplode; that fire, without 
which you had never taken the castle, will 
destroy you.' The Tahaush Baahi rode 
hastily off with his Tshaushes to prevent 
mischief; but ere he arrived, the town blew 
up with a thundering crash, and 3,000 Turks 
were blown up in it, or buried under its 

With this extract we take our leave of 
Cuunl MaiUth and the Magyars ; yet, we 
would fain trust, not a final leave, as wecaa- 
nol but think thai his collectioD of Magyar 
legends, which we have not yet met with, 
must coDtam original and highly interest- 
ing matter, and thai the mine he has under- 
taken to work cannot yet be exhausted. 

With respect to the volumes now be- 
fore U3, that we consider them a very va- 
luable contribution to the historic stores of 




should hope from what we have 
shown ! but we cannot profesa to esteem the 

Qerwun hftmemce vptm tkt CivUuatwu, ^ 


History of the Hagyira qaile ao highly na our 
German brethren. Considered aa a com- 

EDsiiiun it is nol the production of a master- 
and. The matter baa eaaurediy beeu 
collected with great, laudable, and not easy 
diligence ; but to omit minor defects of 
arraogemenl, blunders io oames and 
genealogies, Sic,, already mentioned, there 
IB great want of method in the conduct of 
the narrative. When the aSkirs of difier- 
ent coDniries or the difierent afiairs of the 
same country, as religious nnd military, 
foreign and ciril, wars, or the like, have to 
be carried on simultaneously, the authoi 
does not so order them, so keep then 
abreast, as to enable the reader to feel and 
appreciate aa he proceeds their action and 
reaction upon each other, A difficult art 
certainly, but tbe hiHtoriaD'6 proper and 
especial buainess. With respect to the 
occasional inaccuracies in language and 
composition, and the awkward repetitions, 
all of which have now and then cost us no 
small trouble in translaiiog, we apprehend 
that they may in great measure be excused 
upon the plea alleged by Count Mail&th foi 
the numerous typographical errors; to wit ; 
that his failing sight obliges him to trust, 
wherever it is possible, to the eyes of othi 
The work, however, in spile of these 
feels, is a great acquisition to literature i 

Art. III. — I. YintaiU Kittoire el discrip- 
tutu d'ltn paga kabitb par de* hommea 
tayaxigta, mu, fkrocu, anthropophaget, 
liiui dant le noweau mondf, nomme 
Amtriqut, tnconnu daiu le pays de Heite 
avant ct depuit la naiisance de Jems- 
Chriat, juaqu'a I'aante demiire qitt 
Ham Sladen de Howherg, en Heate, Ca 
connw par »a propre experience et la fail 
eannoilre acluenemeiU par It nnyen de 
riaiprtuitm. Marbourgh and Kolben, 
1557 : republished Paris, 1837. 

2. Daa VerdieaaS dtr Deutac/ien tan die 
Philotophie der Getchiekle. — Yo tr/rg 
aitm KrOBungafeiU am 18 
Janvar, 1885, in dcr DeaUckett Getell- 
lehaft zu Komgaberg gehaJlen, und mil 
erlattienden BeUagen heravagfgeben von 
Karl Rosenkranz, (The Merit ofOcr- 
mans in developing the Philosophy of 
History. An Address to the Kooiga- 
berg German Society at the Annirersary 
of the Coronation of the King of Prussia, 
18 Jannary, 1835; with Notes, by 

Charles Rosenkroaz.) KonJgsberg. 6ro. 

3. Daa Hiru dea Negeri mil dem de* 
EuTOpaer* taid Ortmg-OviangB ver- 
gleiehen. Voa Dr. Friedrich Tiede- 
mann. Mit secbs Tafeln. (The Skull 
of the Negro compared with those of the 
European and Orang-Outaug.) Heidel- 
berg. 4lQ. Im Verlag bei Karl Win- 
ter. 1837. . 

4. The Brain of the Negro compared with 
those of the European and the Oraog. 
Outeng. Br Dr. F. Tiedemann. Philo- 
sophical Transactions, 1836. London. 
4ta. 1836. ' 

5. Bibliographical Essay on the Collection 
of Voyages and Travels edited and pub. 
tished byLevinus Hulsiua and his Succes- 
sors at Nuremberg and Francfort from 
169Stol660. By A. Asher. Printed in 
English, and only sixty copies taken. 
Loudon and Berlin. 4to. 1839. 

Although few persons will agree with 
the eloquent and enthusiastic German re- 
viewer* who claims for his countrymen 
the glory of alone leading the world in all 
future improvemenis, none will deny them 
the honour of having heretofore done a 
vast amount of good in this shape to man- 
kind ; and they undoubtedly stand at pre- 
sent among the very foremost of those 
Christian communities which are pressing 
forward the most energetically to ndvanco 
general civilisation. 

" Two great powers," says the writer 
alluded to, "are in conflict; that which 
seeks lo preserve all existing things, and 
thai which would change them for some 
supposed belter condition. The Germans 
aione oi n'A mankind are capable of bring- 
ing this conflict to a good issue. Italiatis, 
French, and English have proved them- 
selves incapable of that thorough regenera- 
tion of the heart which is indispensable for 
realizinz the destiny of man. It is lo Ger- 
many that the world must look for those 
who by individual character and by the 
favour of circumstances will purify it. The 
free German of antiquity destroyed ihe des- 
potism of Rome ; ihe German league of 
the Rhine, and (he Hanse Towns, created 
the powerful marine of the middle ag'es, tmd 
ihen established civilisation and freedom in 
all porta of the north and west of Europe : 
German genius produced the printing- 
press ; and the German Lulher, with his 
train of intellectual followers, destroying 
Roman Domination a second time, show 
our influence." 

■ Dr. F. Tiedemann, 



"The principlei which nonr animate the 
whole German aation are peculiar. Thej 
have no one point in comraon with the 
equality which the French hare boaated of 
since 17rtS. They are the doctrines which 
alone can elevate the whoie human race, and 
Germany alotie ia thoroughly imbued with 
them.*" It b not very clearly shown by 
this writer what these all-important doctrines 
are, and hiapretemionB, which are not new, 
have been disposed of by at least as able a 
German pen as his own, and in terms upon 
which those who share his opinion wilt do 
well to ponder. 

"The historian of mankind," says Herder, 
"must lake care that he chooses no tribe ex- 
clusively as his favourite, nor exalts it at the 
expense of others, whose situation and cir- 
cumstances denied them fame nnri for- 
tune. The Germans hare derived infur. 
matioD even from iheSlavians: the Cimbri 
and Lettonians might probably have become 
Greeks, had they been differently seated with 
respect to surrounding nations. We may 
rejoice that people of such a strong, hand- 
some, and noble form, of such chaste man- 
ners, so much generosity and probity as the 
Germans, possessed the Koniar. world, instead 
perhaps of Huns or Bulgarians ; but on this 
account to esteem them God's chosen people 
in Europe, to whom ihe world belongs in 
right of their innate nobility, and to whom 
other nations are destined to be sut>servient 
in consequence of this pre-eminence, would 
be to display the base pride of a barbarian. 
The barbarian domineers over those whom 
he has vanquished; Ihe enlighieuiidconquer- 
or civilizes those whom hesubdues.f" 

But without being troubled by patriotic ex- 
aggftralion it will readily be admitted that 
the circumstances of the German people for 
some centuries past have been singularly 
propiliouB to the steady progress ofcivili- 
sHtion, and that these circumstances have 
greatly aided the natural advantages which 
favour the regions between the Baltic and 
Franco. The territorial riches of theGer- 
mans; their various resources in trade; 
their learning; their ancient free spirit, 
which, in spite of general political enslave- 
inent, has produced many ameliorations in 
their laws; and their unchanging military 
protvess, requiring only a better direction to 
restore political freedom ; — all these things 
give them enough influence in the world to 
justify a high degree of national self- 

Qermtn Infttunce upon the CivUuaHon 


I. Sd cditiM). 8to, London. 

But what the Germans have accomplished 
in one most important branch of human re- 
lations is both remarkable in extent and pe- 
culiarin variety and character. This branch 
relates to "the [KTBRCOTrasB between tkb 


tween powerful Christian nations, and the 
comparatively feeble natives of the New 
World, of Africa, Asia, and the South Seas. 
This intercourse, as is well-known, has 
hitherto been fatal to the weaker and less 
civilized parties. But the generally destruc- 
tive character which it bore during many cen- 
turies, has of late been considerably modified 
through good men's elTorts, largely, although 
indirectly, shared by the Germans, 

Of these efforts the obvious examples are, 
the attempts to abolish the slave-trade from 
Africa to America ; the more humane treat- 
mentof slaves ; and the partial abolition of 
negro slavery ; yet these are only the com- 
mencements of humane enterprizes, calculat- 
ed to change the condition of all the remot- 
er regions of the earth. 

It will not be attempted here to follow out 
completely any of the operations of the Ger- 
man mind, which hare promoted these re- 
sults, for the vastness of that inquiry &r ex- 
ceeds our limits ; but the sketch proposed 
to be made of these operations will open a 
subject less studied than its importance de- 
serves. The missionaries of (hat country, 
such as the Moravian brethren ( its phito* 
sophical writers, such as Herder, Schiller, 
and Schlegel ; its linguists, travellers and 
geographers, the Porsters, Adalungs, Cha- 
miasos, and Von Ilumboldts, have altogeth. 
er proditced materials which throw a clear 
light upon the subject : end it will not be 
difficult to infer from these ,some distinct 
views of what has long been contemplated 
by eminent Germans, and to conclude how 
far their objects have been realized. The 
: utility of such an inquiry is obvious. Vices 
icommon to all Europe, and false opinions, 
[prevalent among the most civilized people, 
j contribute to the ruin of the coloured races ; 
and to rescue them it is indispensable to im. 
prove both the conduct and the sentiments of 
enlightened Christians generally on the 
, whole subject, in order that the oppressed 
may have some chance of protection; that 
the ignorant may be adequately instructed ; 
and the debased elevated every where. 

The grand characteristic of Giermany on 
this head is, that a national colonial interest 
docs not exist there to bias the national judg- 
ment, and harden the popular feelings in re- 
gard to uncivilized tribes. The German 
consequently has during threecenturies look- 
ed impartially upon the relations between 
those tribes ononeside ai]d^<^HoDHta»d the 

tmd Progren of wteuttivaied Ntition*. 

maritime guvernment on the other. The 
union of Spain and its American domii 
with ibe German empire in the peraon Of 
Charles V., created a brief exception loihis 
excluaion from colonial pover and preju- 
dice. Two hundred years afterwarda, a 
rigorous atlempt waa made by another Em- 
peror of Germany, Chaiiea VI., to obtain a 
share of (he TndiaA trade ; but without suc- 
cess. This waa id the beginning of the last 
contun', when the Oststid Company waa 
formed under ftvourable auspices, but was 
finally ruined through iho jealousy of the 
Dutch and English. The Proasians hare 
subsequently met with lesa formidable diffi- 
cuhiea in the same quarter ; and since the 
general peace of 1816, as many as 20,000 
Gormana emigrate yeariy to America and 
other new countries to the west, and a large 
number lu Russia ; but in no part of the 
. world have they yet formed colonial settle- 
ments of their own ; — a fact which is par- 
ticularly worth attention at this moment when 
three other great nations, the Russiaoa, the 
people of the United Stalea of North Ame- 
rica, and the English, are literally briaging 
the ends of the earth together, and covering 
large portions of the uncivilized world with 
new aetilements, beyond all example exien. 
give and rapidly formed ; and when Prance 
and Portugal are struggling to pursue the 
same career in Northern, Western and Basl> 
ern Africa. It is well in this state of ihings 
that one great civilized people should stand 
apart ; and exercise a calm, disinterested, 
and enlightened judgment upoD the way in 
which other nations use their power and 

The history of the German race has in- 
deed been very remarkable in regard to the 
nature of its migratory intercourse with 
other nations. That intercourse lor a long 
time varied but little from (he common career 
of a powerful people ; it waa characterised 
by unscrupulous conquests, and not unfre- 
quenily by a merciless extermination of the 
conquered, such, for example, as took place 
in at least a large portion of Britain after the 
first Saxon invasion; and presents but few 
claims to the love or respect of maalcind. 
Rovers by sea and land, the Germans were 
long characterised by several of the had as 
well as good qualities which spring from a 
precarious course of life. A brief record 

f (reserved by Prucopiua of the Eruliana apt- 
j illustrates their early history. This tribe, 
which inhabited a cotintry north of the Dan- 
ube, were highly superstitious, and addicted 
to human sacrifices : they even required 
wives to put (hemselves to death at the 
graves of their husbands. They were pow- 
erful, and prone to war ; savage, and inces- 1 

TM, XSIT. 5 

santly occupied in making predatory incur- 
sions upon their neighbours. At lei:gth ihey 
were completely defeated by the Lombards; 
whom they had grievously oppressed, and 
foully insulted. Meeting whb cmserved chas- 
tisement from this kindred tribe, (he Erulians 
migrated, and were kindly received by the 
Roman emperor Anaslasius, until their inso- 
lence again brought down a severe ven- 
geance. Under Justinian they preserved 
their old perverse character as a people, biR 
were incorporated with (he provincial Ro- 
mans in the north uf Italy. A portion of 
this tribe, however, f<mtgrated to a far more 
remote land ; — the real Tbule perhaps of the 
ancients — a country lying beyond tb^ oceani 
west of Denmark, ol ten times the extent of 
Britain, and where tho sun did not set for 
forty days in summer, and in winter was en- 
tirely lost for many weeks. This country, 
the Greenland of our days, was then peopled 
by numerous tribes,of whom the Scriihifina. 
or EsquiniauK, fed on tittle but animals, and 
were clothed in skins. 

The Erulians were received in Thule 
with great cordiality ; obtained lands ; and 
became sufficiently flourishing to furnish 
their people who took refbge in Italy, 
with a kine from the royal stock which 
accompanied the Traosatlantic emigration.'* 

It deserves a passing notice, that, three or 
four centuries later, the same parts of the 
world were visited by the North men, ac- 
companied, it is recorded, by Germans who 
recognized tho grape of America from its 
resemblance to the fruit of their own vine. 
On this occaiiion the conduct of the voyagers 
the Scrithiftos, who appear still to have 
existed, was not such as to enstire tliem a 

irm welcome in the new countr^'f'. 

But we hasten to less apocryphal limei.' 
The discovery of America found tho Qer. 
mans of the 16th century perfectly capable 
of appreciating all the wonders, present and 
probable, of that great event. If they were 
not yet nationally interested in the financial 
results of this opening of supposed new routeV 
to the rich countries of the East, or in those 
of the real benefits Europe was to derive 
from the West, still no people devoted more 
intense, or more continued attention to all 
daily r^ated and written concern, 
ing the latter land. At this period Germany 
itself was the fairest countir in Europe, no 
extensive part of eren Italy excepted, and 
supplied, almost atone, all other lands with 
the finer products of its Industry. The gold 

* Procopiui, dv Bsllo GothJco, lib. IL* osn. ziv 

t ADtiquittla AmsricuiB Ants-ColatDbuin, 
HkfiiJB. iia. 1H3T ; and sss also f oraiga CUv- 
tetlj Review, No, XLI. 


German Infimtnee t^on tht CivUualun 


and nv prodnctioDi of odier cooDlnes flow. 
od thither to reward thnt iDduatry. The 
splendour of its public buildings nas out; 
equalled hy the rafiaed adorameoi of pri- 
TBte habitations. If (he Oennans did not 
keep up with the Spaniarda and Portuguese 
in their progress over the ocean to the West 
and South, Ihe^ were remarkable for the 
abiliiy with which ibey studied all the im- 
portant branches of knowledge coanecled 
with the extension of geographical science, 
nnd with the spread of civilisation into re- 
mote regions. It was a native of Franco- 
sia, John Mulier (Resiomontanus), whose 
astronomical Ephemendes, published at Nu- 
remberg in the Gfteenlh centur;, were used 
on the coasts of Africa, America, and India 
hj Diaz, Columbus, Vesputius, and Gama . 
and it is jnstly said by the writer whom we 
are following, and who in this particular de- 
partment of science has himself done so 
much for the honour of his country, that the 
oamea of Ragiomont&nus, and Martin Be- 
hem, a native of Nuremberg and the friend 
' of Columbus, alone give to Giermaoy a 
large share in the glory of discovering the 
sew world; and that uie gec^raphical re. 
nowD of the tslter has even suggested, for 
America, the German name of Western 

It is probable, indeed, that more books 
on all topics concerning African and Amer. 
ican discovery were during the half centuries 
befure and after the voyages t^ Qama and 
Columbus, published in Germany than in 
any other country; and Von Humboldt 
again justly notices the extent to which the 
earlier writers carried iheirspeculations upon 
the nature of the newly-found tribes of men, 
almost BDticipalbg the philosophical inqui. 
ries of later times. 

But these speculation* produced no bene- 
ficial effect upon any of the practical men 
who then went to the new world to get gold, 
and who were all utterly regardless at what 
cost of blood and tears to the natives it was 
obtained. Germany in the sixteenth centu- 
ry must be included within the strict terms 
ofthiscondemnatioa The Emperor Charles 
the Fifth gave a province in America to the 
great merchants of Augsburg, the Welzers, 
who had lent him large sums of money. This 
cession led to the occupation of Venezuela 
^ Germans for above twenty-six years. 
Elome of them wrote full sccounU of the 
country at thnt period, and their books were 
puUislied in the original language soon af- 
terwards. They have been lately repub- 

* EiuBsn critiqiK et historiqae de li Geognphie 
du MouvBia Continent Psr Alexandre ds Hum- 
bddt. Puii. 8to. 1836! *d. i. p. S74. 

lished in French in tha collection of M. 
Henri Tem^ui ; and , more impartial testi- 
monies could not be desired to show how 
tittle German domination in the new world 
difiered from that of Spain, or England, or 

One of those works, the narrative of Nico- 
las Federmann, appeared originally in print 
at Hoguenau in 1S57. The author com. 
mandeda party ofSpanish soldiers and Ger- 
man miners sent in 1529 to Venezuela : aitd 
his first intercourse with the natives does not 
place him in a favourable point of view. He 
very calmly, and quite as a thing of course, 
set about seizing the natives for interpreters 
and guides ; and exhibits the recklessness of 
the practice by taking prisoner a poor wo- 
man who complained of the injustice of their 
conduct, as she and all her tribe were the 
Christians' friends. He also mentions with- 
out a word of reprobation the marauding ex. 
peditioQ of another German commander 
during eight months in the interior, where 
one hundred of ihe men were either killed in 
attacking the natives, or died of diseases. 
These disasters did not daunt Federmann, 
who, in his turn, set oot in September, 1530, 
upon an espediiioo that might procure him 
some "advantage." The parly consisted of 
one hundred and ten armed footmen and six> 
teen cavalry, with one hundred friendly In- 
dians. They were absent six months, mak- 
ing a circuitous route through an unknown 
country towards the Pacific, which they 
reached at Xarogua. The remotest point 
of their route was at seventy miles distaiKe 
from Coro, the place of departure. The ob. 
jects of the expedition were, to collect gold 
by any means ; to subjugate the natives to 
the eraperorandtohis grantees, the bankers 
of Augsburg : and to convert them to Chris. 
tianiiy by force if persuasion should fail All 
these objects Federmann pursued with a spirit 
of perseverance worthy of abetter cause, and 
quite regardless of the claims of humanity. 

He encountered twenty two tribes upon 
this expedition ; eleven were friendly, and 
leveo hostile. 

With the former, amicable communica> 
lions were held by means of bterpreters, be- 
fore the arrival of the whiles at the villages 
of the Indians. In the latter, the Indians 
) never approached with caution or con* 
sideration, and were often attacked by sur- 
prise. This uniform correspondence of va- 
rious results with the various character of 
the proceedings of the party, speaks power- 
fully in favour of the more humane system 
of conciliating the friendship of strange sad 
uncivilized tribes by at least the simple step 
ofopening communications with them through 
competent intarpreten. Tbefollowing sum- 

I qitizedbyGoOgle 


mary bccoudI of a part of the occurrencea 
will be found highly characteristic ; and 
leaves do doubt of the fact, that Gflmian au- 
thorities in the sixteenib century Jn America 
differed little from those of other Christians, 
in regard to the rights of the [adiaaa. 

After describing' several sanguinary con. 
flicts, which he attributes to their treaeherj/, 
Pedermaon states, that he caused two of the 
ohie& who had accompanied him willingly, 
to be seized and tortured, in order to com- 
pel them to confess why they had assembled 
their people in arms, and why they had ill. 
treated a parly whom he had left behind, 
refhaing them provisions, which it waa his 
practice to demand leilAoiU payment. They 
Dore the pain without ackaowledging their 
offence; and one was then shot in cold blood 
" for ail example." Federmsnn adds that 
(be promise of life induced the other to con- 
foM that an attack upon the Chrlalians had 
been concerted. Thereupon he amused the 
followers of these chie^ above eight hundred 
in Dumber, with friendly diieowte, and tak- 
ing his measures properly, put five hundred 
of them to death by surprise ; the cavalry of 
the Christians easily dispersing this body, the 
in&ntry » stabbing them like piga." 

Upon another occasion his people, assist, 
ing one tribe againat another, destroyed great 
numbers of the enemy and made 600 prison- 
era, of whom he kept the able-bodied for his 
own use, but gave the wounded, the children, 
and old men, as slaves to the chiefs of his 
Indian allies. 

The close of the expedition was signalized 
by acta of extreme barbarity ; — 

*' We DOW reached the Caquattea," aays 
Fedennann, " and took our usual course. 
Reaching a village at eo earl^ hour, when 
they take breakfiist, we surprised them so 
completely that, not leing able to escape. 
they barricaded their houses. Hereupon I 
signified to tbem (hat their alarm was need- 
less, but that if thor would not open their 
doors I would bum down their town. They 
then communicated with ua, apparently in a 
friendly manner. But it being soon perceiv- 
ed thai the women and cbildroo were grad- 
ually withdravring from tbe place, a step 
that usually precMes hostilities, I told their 
cacique that the strange Indians k vno utUK 
ua M trow were thus punished for endeavour- 
ing to betray us ; and that if he persevered 
in bis treacherjr, the same fete awaitwl him. 
Alarmed for bis peraooal s^ty he attempt- 
ed to escape, and when my men laid hold of 
hitn he uttered loud and piercing cries to bis 
people for aid. To prevent a tumult 1 order- 
ed a soldier to stab him. We then set upon 
the Indians, and, after killing many of them, 
came back to uie chief's house, where we 
had deposited all tbe gold collected in our 
expedition. Here twdve Indians had con- 

a»d Pfogrts) oftme%Mt>aUd NMttons, 

oealed ihomselves in a coni4ofl; having 
killed eleven of them ailer a desperate cod- 
flict, 1 caused the survivor to be tied toa post, 
and lo be left in that condition when we do. 
parted, in order that he might tell his coun- 
trymen when they should come in of the 
vengeance all miehl expect who should deal 
treacherously with us- We took some of the 
people or this village in Irons as our guides; 
and on discovering that they were mislead- 
ing us, we tortured soma, but they persisted 
in their story. I then ordered two of tbem 
to be cut ia pieces to terrify the rest ; in 
which object we failed, for they preferred 
death to bein^ la our service, and hoped to 
have destroyed usby conducting us through- 
out a country without provisioos, and without 
water ; this plan almost succeeded." — p. 190k 

These atrocious acts seem to have excit- 
ed no attention at the return of the parly to 
the capital of the new colony ; and the com- 
mandor of the expedition proceeded to Bo- 
rope, undisturbed either by the Imperial 
prosecutor's investigations or by the stii^ 
of cooBoienco. 

The cool wa^ in which Federmann pur- 
sued his vocation of religious missionary, 
shows that be waa in no very imminent dan- 
gar from the latter. " One day," says be, 
" receiving a friendly chief and sixty of bis 
tribe, I caused tbem all to ha baptised, and I 
explained the Christian doctrines to them aa 
well as I could, which, it will easily be crad- 
ited, was poorly enou^ This preaching ia 
indeed a Mosaless aSair, for it is tbrou^ 
compulsion only that their profession of our 
faith is obtained." 

Certainly (he clerical aid furnished for the 
expedition iodicates that fon», not penua- 
aion, waa depended upon for making oen- 
verts. Tbe religious teacher, a inonk,j>aT- 
took more of the character of Friar Tuck 
than of Las Casas, or Xavier. Upon tbe 
only occasion on which he is personally men- 
tioned by Federmann, he saves some of tba 
soldiers from a huge panther at tbe risk of 
his own life, by bravely closing with tbe fti- 
rious animal, and stabbing it with his hal- 

After a few yean, upon the separatran of 
ihe empire from Spain in the persona of Ute 
successors of Charles the Fifth, Germany 
ceased to have a national interest in Ameri- 
ca ; and whilst the maritime powers of Eu- 
rope, — Spain, Fortugsl, Denmark, Franca, 
Sweden, England, and Holland, gradually 
acquired possession of half the new wor)(^ 
Germany shared their acquisitions only 
through private advuiturers ; either by oo< 
casioaal drafts of aeAdien hired to fight pa^ 
licular battles ; or by a few emigrants^ such 
as from time to time have sought a refiiga 
from religious persecWioa at home; or , 

Gtrmmi Iwfimenee «p«i (Ac Ci vrftntwai 


SmUjf and iuduKllj, hy the aUeation which 
Icttmed men have gir«n (o the progreaB of 

The lead taken by G«rroaDy towards the 
end of ibe vixteeoth cealury in Geographic- 
al aiudies, independent of any colonial inter- 
est, is proved by the encouragement ^veo 
to theae studtea tiiere, when it baa been re- 
fused elsewhere. The works of this claaa 
publiahed by our Hakluyt in that period, 
bear a deservedly high reputation ; they un- 
guealionably tended greatly lo the founding 
of our old North American Colonies. But 
the works of Levin^s Hulsiua, a refugee, lar 
•urpais them, not only in extant but in cha' 
imcter. Mr. Asfaer of Berlin, whose inter- 
csiing Gssay on the Collection of Voyage: 
and Travels, edited and published by hin: 
and his successors, ought to have a moie ex- 
tensire circulation than ntfjp ct^ies can give 
it, is doing a public serrice by his enlighien- 
od labour* on tbe subject. In pursuing 
those labours we hope he will not forget De 
Bry's early works of the same class, to 
which Herder attaches the credit of having 
supplied almost the only drawings of otjects 
ibund in new countries, used by speculative 
writers froni the 16th to the 18lh centuries. 

The di^rence of national position dearly 
created a diSerence of principle in the na- 
tional mind ; and accordingly, it was from 
Gemumy that firMt proceeded oppoeittcH] tc 
the enormoua wronn which coloured men 
have so long sufierM frrnn Christian colo- 
niaiB. Upon this point the tesiimony of the 
ablest wnter on the general history of the 
United Slates of North America is positive, 
akhoughoransborlof the whole truth. "On 
the subject of negro slavery, the German 
miud," says Mr, Baacrofl, the historian al- 
luded to, " was least enthralled by prejudice, 
becaoM Germany had never yet partioipaled 
in the slave trade. The little handful oi 
German Friends from the highlands above 
die Rhine, resolved that it was not lawful 
fer Christiana to buy or to keep negro 
■laves. This occurred when the general 
ineetbg of the English Quakers h^tated 
to make the only just decision on the qaes- 

The saoM freedom from cotitaminaling 
interests prevails bu1I in Germany; and unless 
we greatly err, it has long been working 
degree of purity in public opiaioti there c 
those questions concerning the coloured 
races, that has produced very remariiable 
results in tbe pablic mind. A rapid survey 
of more reeent ftcts that seem to justify this 
observation, will fully explain our meaning, 

and show clearly in what manner those 
countries which are less favourably circum- 
stanced, may best and most directly turn this 
German purity inwards the correction of 
their own errors. To this end it will be 
found, that large contributions may be obtain> 
ed from the researches of scienee aa well as 
through religious convicimn, — and that the 
philosophy of German professors may be 
consulted with advantage by the' statesmen 
of every land, upon most of the great ques- 
lioBS which concern mankind at large. It 
is extremely probable that the coademnaiion 
of negro slavery, for example, by those pro- 
fessors, preceded its discussion in EngJEkod ; 
and no where has British DPgro'emancipa- 
tion been hailed more cordially than by Ger- 
laan writers. 

They who claim for Germany the very 
highest pinnacle of glory, to the exclusion of 
nther nations, are so far at least in the right, 
that there has been in ibu country more than 
elsewhere a continued pnrauit of objecis 
tending to the general good of mankind. 
Although the German language may have 
been but recently polished, studies and prin- 
ciples, which are prevalent in that country 
at the present day, were in high estimation 
there in times br removed ; and the cata- 
logue of iiluatrious names, to be aelected as 
thoes of tbe men who long repreeented ihe 
genius of the land, will spread not very un- 
equally over the whole of the last four cen- 
turies. The age that produced Luther is 
rightly asserted to have been the true parent 
of that cheering spirit which the people at 
large are now beginning to share. Thence 
besidt's (hose who have already been men- 
tioned, and many mote who need not be 
named, came Ulrich von Hutten, Melaoc. 
thon, Keppler, Leibnils, Zinzendorf, Haller, 
Wolff, Moser, Iselin, Leasing, Eant, and 
Fichte ; nor need we prolong Ihe list by the 
addition of those who nave not yet ceased to 
do their country honour. 

Principles which most bmeGcially affrct 
uncivilized natiess might be easily deduced 
from the writings of those groat men, and 
formed into an admirable system; and mis- 
siooaries, settlers, geogrsphers, physiologists, 
but in especial, political philosophers, have 
all liberally contributed to this result. Tbe 
land of Luther was not likely to be backward 
in Missionary eSbrls among the heathen ; 
and the interest felt in I3ermany in favourof 
those efforts has never been coodned to, what 
may bo considered a somewhat interested 
party — namely, the actual Missionary la- 
bourers. But such men also aa Herder and 
Goelho atudiously consulted their records, 
watched their proeeediDgs with vigilance, 
applauded tbeit auocesa, and frankly itoiod 

a»d Pr9gr**> of vneultivated tfaUoiu. 

(heir occaaional «iTon. Those who were ' 
sent forth by Count Zinzendorf, oTigiaally 
with ft view to visit the whole world, bsve 
been pre-emineni from "Greenland's icy 
inouDtains" to the pastilential regions o( 
die burnitig zoee. The Moravians, wlto 
are in our day almost as much English as 
German, and to whose example must be at- 
tributed much of our English missionafy 
success, although founded at Herrnhul in Lu- 
satia in 1722 only, came from the ancient 
Bohemian church, koowo under the same 
appellation, in the middle of the fifteenth 
century. " Watered by the blood of ita 
martyrs, John Huss and Jerome of Prague," 
says its historian, >' it spread in numerous 
flourishing branches through Poland and 
Moravia."* After many persecutions, and 
having been once snatched from the brink 
of ruin by the timely assistance of the Church 
of England, this body of Christians assumed 
their present form of discipline ; and they 
have ever since been the steadiest, if not the 
most important of Protestant Missionaries to 
the heathen world. Other German churches 
An at the present moment actively engaged 
in Che name cause. They arc swelling the 
ranlfs of the spiritual labourers in that most 
hopeful field of religious cultivation, South 
Africa : and they have thrown themselves, 
without counting the risk, into the almost 
hopeless contest of the savage with the con- 
Tict in Ne«' South Wales. 

Whilst they neglect none of the duties of 
their ptcuiiar calling, they, like worthy fol- 
lowers of the clergy of the Middle Ages, be- 
stow inestimable benefits on Iho tribes they 
visit, by carefully teaching the arts of social 
life, and by curing those diseases " as a work 
of compassion," which governments ought to 
endeavour to check by means of adequate 
establish me n Is. -f 

la regard to ihe boundless field of interest 
opening in China, a German missionary, 
GuttlaS', has given perhaps a greater im- 
pulse than any other man lo ihe desire and 

' Tbs Uittorj of Greenluiil. inehuliug an Ac. 
oonntof tbc AtuioD of Iho United Brethren in that 
CountTT. From the GsiuAn of Darid Cnuitz, vol. 
i.p. Q. 8to. London, 1820. 

t "The little phjaiol skill of the Middle Ages 
wu in the handi of the clergj, mnd hence it wu > 
losoe of niperetitione : the dCTi! and the croee loted 
the moit coQipicnoua parte of it. It would have 
been a Irulj {guardian office, if all Europe had com- 
bined agunet the influi of diseaeea, ae real works 
of tbc deTil, and left neither imalLpoi, pla^e, nor 
lapioej in tiia land ; butthej were permiltedto en. 
tei, rant, and deitroy, till the poiaon eibaueted it> 
•.1/. Iro T>. cmii. ncnnin, .i ... »dut.d 

TSUI ; this Iran done aj a work of compaHion, 
which men yet wanted ikill to perform as a work 
of art." Hcrder'a PhilsKiphr of HiMorr, vol. il, p. 
534, b. xli, c. iii. 

means of promotiiig the best sort of inter, 
course between ^Europeans and the people 
of that most important empire ; which, to- 
gether with the regions of Centnl Asia, oth- 
er German Missionaries had in view a cen- 
tury ago, when Count Zinzendorf at Herrn- 
hut planned his gigantic scheme of Christian- 
izing the whole liealhen world. In British 
India also, German missionaries are now la- 
bouring with eminent success. 

As mere emigranU, seeking new homes, 
Germans are met with in almost all quarters 
of the world, where the civilized nations are 
abusing their power. But it does not appear 
that German colonislg have ever directly 
nude great elTurts to stay the evil. Their 
wide-spreading settlements Id North Ameri- 
ca, where their language Is firmly fixed in 
numerous churches and towns, present no 
peculiar refuge to the harassed Indian, In 
South Africa, where they are more dispers- 
ed, they have formed no exception to the 
general rule, when Hottentots, Bosjemin, or- 
Ga&res were to be honied down.' In South 
Australia, where they are now thronging un* 
der belter auspices for the aboriginfs, il re 
mains lo be seen whether they will take the 
more humane course, which their own ori- 
gin, and the kindly dispositions of many col- 
onists, equally recommend. 

But it is in Bussia that the indirect colo- 
nization of Germans has produced the great- 
est effect in the civilisation of barbarous peo- 
pU'. The German party in the government 
of that country is most imporlant, but per- 
haps the power of their polllical party is the 
ieasl of the German good influences existing 
from the frontiers of Poland to Bheriog^ 

Although the civilizing influence of Oer. 
many was felt in Russia before the reign of 
Peter the Great, it was that enlightened bar- 
barian who kill ihe moat extensive founda- 
tion for the remarkable efforts since made 
unceasingly by the Russian sovereigns to 
give their people the direct advantage of 
German instructors in matiy branches of 
knowledge, and of German fuoclioiiories in 
various deparlmenls of the government. 
Peter looked upon the Germans as a far ad- 
vanced people, because they had already 
erected some of those arts and manufactures 
in Moscow ; and he and his successors have 
encouraged the stltlement of Germans of all 
classes in all their dominions with the steadi- 
ness (hsi characterises Russian policy. Seve* 
ral rich German merchants have been settled 
in Petersburgh for many generations; they 
speak Russian for business, but otherwise 
generally very pure German, and are suf. 
ficiently numerous to keep iheir own society 

"''*"' DigitizedbyGoOgle 

3d Oerman lujluenee upon the OivUixiliott Oct. 

In the ITralitin mouDtatiu many families i a modern Siberiaa poet, as " fiU cretitor of 
are German. j woe m every Aoitse."* 

An influential portion of the resident pop-| The German geographers and voyagera 
ulatioQ of Tobolsk are the deacendanls of; of modern times are of surpassing excel- 
Oernaan fanitlies. Their manners are pol-| lence :— the two For«tera, LichteDStein, 
i»bed, and moat agreeable to stmngera; they j Homemaan, Burckhardt, Ritter, the elder 
are chiefly employed in public offices, and : Niebuhr, von Humboldt, are only a few in 
ihorxjughly attached to their new country, : that numerous catalogue. Of the last it is 
having entirely accommodated themselves to I unnecessary to say one word. His name, 
the manners of Siberia. But they are in an j unrivalled in modern days, represents a 
extraordinary degree devoted to their old re. | whole class of illustrious travellers beginning 
ligiouB faith.* I ivith Herodotus, who were the lights of their 

The influence of free German principles | time, and destined by their labours far and 
and aspirations has indeed reached the wilds ' wide to preserve to posterity the secrets of 
of Siberia in several forma. OfBcers of the ' the remotest and obscurest regions. Pora. 
greatest merit, who had been enlightened by . ter, however, deserves particular mention in 
Uieir fellow soldiers in the German armies in; reference to the spread of civilisation in the 
1813 and 1314, and who had adopted the parts of the world which he visited with our 
views of the German Association of Virtue ; great discoverer Captain Cook ; and in re- 
(Tugendbund), attempted to introduce a > ference also to the fate of the unhappy in- 
more liberal government into Russia, by an habitants of the new countries then discover, 
extensive conspiracy ; and for ibis ailempi in - ed. An individual who also accompanied 
1826-7, many of ihem were banished to Si- j Cook, the late President of the Royal Socie- 
beria. Among those Murawiev has acted a | ly, Sir Joseph Banks, who, with many emi. 
conspicuous part. After some years he was , nent qualities, was comparatively a man of 
appointed loan ofiice of reaponsibility at Irr- small capacity, entirely failed in his estimate 
kutsk, and discharged its duties not only with of the physical resources of New Holland, 
great zeal, but also most beneficially for the. After mistaking the rushy marshes of Botany 
country to which ha had been exiled. Dis- Bay for rich meadows, he recommended the 
tinguished for his talents in civil as well as , House of Commons not to colonize New 
in military affairs, this persecuted patriot Souih Wales; white Forster, on the con- 
eslabliahud his family in Siberia. Devoting trary, clearly saw its vast resources. He 
themselves to scientiflc pursuits, and to the did belter than this. \t a time when the 
good of the native people, their house was powerful many scarcely noticed the barbari- 
open to the studious youth of the country ties which voyagers most recklessly com- 
who had acquired a knowledge of medicine, mitted upon the ignorant people they visited ; 
mathematics, and the languages of Europe, i and when enlightened men were found to 
" Here," says Erman, " we saw Iguranov, vindicate the killing of natives by explorers, 
whose intimate acquaintance with the Mon- j as an inevitable and therefore a justifiable 
gol dialects, and other East-Asiatic tongues, proceeding, Forster took the other side, and 
eminently qualified him for the office of pub- when denouncing to all Europe at bis re- 
lic interpreter, and who had already some turn the acts he had witoesaed, he boldly 
zealous native pupils in his office."! maintained that they were as needless as 

The importance of these results will be they were criminal. 
best appreciated when it is considered that Upon a token of honour being given late- 
prior to the immigration of Germans under ! ly by a distinguished scientific societyf in 
Catharine, in pursuance of the plans of Peter London to Dr. Roppel, a German friend of 
the Great, " drunkenness, sloth, and de- that eminent traveller in acknowledging the 
bauchery, with all their concomitant dis- , compliment, enumerated with just pride those 
eases, prevailed there. "f And it will j of his countrymen whose merits had been 
readily be conceived how much further the j long ago recognised in England. Tlie 
improvement would have been carried if, names he mentions, which are among those 
these good influences had not been counter- ) cited above, attest, indeed, less the liherallty 
acted by the frightful system of convict ban- 1 of the country which received them with 
ishment, which has been truly described by deserved honour, than the genius of the peo- 
I pie who, almost severed from the usual in- 

. ProfeMor Ermti.'. Trmvel. round tl.« Worid. [ <^it«"ents to foreign enterprise, namely, fo 
eriin, 1838. Vol. i. pp. 90, 303, 463, 

t Ermaa'i Tr«ToI« round the World. Berlin, | " ProfeiKir EiroMi'» Travels, p. 50. 
138. Vol. i. p. 79. t Raport of the Eighlh Amiivenuj of the Geo. 

I M«dem UDivanal Hiitoiy, vol. xxiv. p. 9S. | Kraphw*] Socic^. Atheanum, 1 June, 1839. 


aitd Progreit ^ uncultmHed NaUoiu. 

feign pouettvmt, snd a great fortigii cost- 
merce, seod distinguished men forth not only 
as friendly, but nlao as auccesafu], rivals to 
those whose more profitable share in such 
incilementa should place them fiir beyond all 

The Germans, of all enlightened nations, 
have struggled the most to remove our ig- 
norance Ttispectiug India. Whilst such 
men aa Dusald Stewart in Great Britain still 
persevered id the vulgar error that the Hindus 
derived their learning from the west, a whole 
school of Germans, the Bopps, the Schlegela, 
the Humboldta, and others, following, how- 
ever, in the wake of the beat English Oriental, 
ists, had successfully atudied the original Ian. 
guages in which Orienial learning iay hidden, 
and which prove that to the East the West 
is probably, — we ourselves indeed assert, 
is certainly, and altogether, — indebted for 
it^ early instruction. But what is more sur- 
priaing, the translations from the Sanscrit 
published tn Englia\ both at Calcutta and 
in London, and which afford valuable illus- 
tratioiM of Hindu character and institutions, 
arc more read in Germany than in Eng. 

The ablest living anatomiat of Germany, 
Proie^aor Tiedemann, has lately directed his 
researches with aingular felicity to the vin- 
dicatioQ of the uncivilized man's capacity for 
improvement. In the works mentioned at 
the head of this article, and in the translation 
read at the Royal Society of London, of 
which the professor is a foreign member, 
that important question seems to be set at 
rest for ever. The results of a most e:tact 
analysis of cases are thus stated by him 

"I.Thebrainof the Neero is m)on the whole 
quite as large as that of the European and 
other human races. The weight of the 
brain, its dimensions, and the capficily of 
the cavum cranii prove this fact Many 
anatomists have also incorrectly asserted 
thai Europeans have a larger brain than 

"II. The nerves of the Negro, relatively 
to the sizeof the brain, are not thicker than 
those of Europeans, as Soemmerrlng and 
his followers bave said, 

"III. The outward form of the spinal 
cord, the medulla nblonsata, the cerebellum, 
and cerebrum of the Negro, show no im- 
portant difference from those of the Euro- 

" IV. Nor does the inward structure, the 
order of the cortical and medullary sub- 
stance, nor the inward organization of the 
Interior of the Negro brain, show any dif- 
ference from those of the European. 

" V. The Negro brain does not resemble 

that of the orang-outang more than the Ed- 
ropean brain, except m the more symme- 
trical distribution of the eyri and sula. It 
Is not even certain that this is always the 
case. We cannot therefore coincide with 
the opinion of many naturalists, who saj 
that the Negro has more resemblance to 
apes than Europeans, in refsrenoe to the 
brain, and nervous system." 

And afler ■& minute survey of proo& re> 
ipecting the intellectual faculties of the Ne. 
gro. Professor Tiedemann concludes in the 

following words : 

The principal nault of my researches 
the brain of the Negro is, that neither 
anatomy nor physiology can justify our 
placing them beneath Europeans in a moral 
or intellectual point of view. How is it 
possible then, to deny that the Ethiopian 
~~ le is capable of civilisation T This is just 
false as it w&uld have been in the time 
of Julius Cffisar to cmsider the Germans, 
Britons, Helvetians, and Batavians, incapa- 
ble of civilisation. The slave-trade was the 
proximate and remote reason of the innu- 
metabJe evils which retarded the civihsa- 
tion of the African tribes. Great Britain 
achieved a noble and splendid act of 
national justice in abolishing the slave trade. 
The chain which bound Africa to the dust, 

«i Nktive Education in Indis. 

Hayti and the colony of Sierra Leone can 
attest that free Negroes are capable of be- 
ing governed by mild laws, and require 
neither whips nor chains to enforce sub- 
miaaion to civil authority." — /'AilosopAicoI 
Trantictiotu, 1836, p. 535. 

Thua does physical acience come in aid 
of the cause of benevolence ; and the rigor. 
ous deductions of the calm and philosophical 
anatomist of Heidelberg sanction the enthu- 
siastic movement of the British people, and 
justify the decisions of the British legislature. 

But it is in the practical portions of Ger- 
man philosophy that the best results of Ger- 
man intelligence are to be seen. Derived 
from all the sources here briefly noticed, 
and from many more which have been 
scarcely alluded to, that philosophy has 
made a great impression upon thinking men 
in Engliind; and it richly merits the fine 
eulogium of Coleridge, of having created 
"ideas, or lauia anticipated."* 

During the last fifty years capecially, 
these idfiat have exercised general influence 
through a very remarkable process. Ex- 
'cluded from n direct share in the local gov- 
ernment, and in the foreign relations of 
their own states, a considerable body of 
Germans devoted to intellectuni pursuita, and 

• Tbe Friend-Coleridge's WoAs, 3d ed. 1837. 

rol. iii. p. 70. 

Digitized byOOOgle 

GenMK htfbience upon tb CnSisatim, ^e. 

profe«ors hi the bnrreralties^ entered upon 
the pcofouiulest political abstractions, and the 
moat active philosophioal ceseaiches bearing 
«(KUi gowcnnmBl. Meoe poliliieal dtscusaioa 
ia the Drdioasy aaamo betog foibiddea, pttilo. 
Mpt^ and tMtory wsr? rasortod' to for ibe 
Mme obfect, which ebewhen ia sought \j 

Bilitical discussion; and' the Lockes, the 
efoestthe Edmund Burkes, the Juniuses.tbe 
Eibkiaes, and the Mackintoshes of England 
are represented in Germany by the raec 
whose philnsophiei ofhutory are really well 
reasoned acheraes for the practical reform 
of all societieB. This gives a peculiar value 
to the writings of the new achoola of Ger- 
■an phitoaophioal ftutonoiu. To them his. 
lory has not only been philosophy teaching 
byesamplos, but the lesaons so learned hare 
actually produced changes in opinion of a 
nature calculated to impress deep and dis- 
tinct characters upon the great political 
events that are preparing in Europe. The 
earUest writer of these modem schooii 
said to have been Isehn, who, in Swib 
land, in 1704, examined thoroughly the idea 
that man hs^ innate faculties capable in 
themselves of complete development ; and 
who treated the history of events as the his- 
tory of civilisation. Id 1773 and 1774, 
Wcguelin In Bariin pursued this theory fur- 
ther ; and expounded with many historical 
details, the results that flow from the antago- 
nist principles under which men act. lie 
dwelt much upon the progress thus made 
inch by inch in the formation of the various 
political cooatitutions of Europe. In 1780 
Lessing. in a short essay, rested mainly up. 
on religion the improvement of man, with 
which, he insisled, divine revelation might 
be reconciled. 

Thus urose in Germany three separate 
schools, quite distinct from that of the phi- 
losophical historians, such as Miitler, Luden, 
and P. Schloaser ; and from the philosophi- 
cal jurists, sucli as Savigny and Mittermaier. 
The eloquent address of Rosenkranz fur- 
nishes a satisfactory, but brief, view of the 
characteristics of those three schools. 

Herder in Weimar became the leader of 
the first, or Natoral school ; Kant, in Ber- 
lin, of the second, or Political school ; and 
Scbelling, in Munich, of the third, or Re- 
usions school. Of these three chiefs. Her- 
der is unquestionably the ablest, and ought 
scarcely to be confined to any one of the 
schools. He it was who first wrote a real phi- 
losophy of history. He observed, and reason- 
ed upon every thing, — upon nature, and lier 
works — upon political institutions, — upon re- 
ligion — and upon (he influence of ell the arts 
and selencea on the progress of mankind. 
Combining all in one grand syslem, he crown- 


etf it with the pttrest sympathy for tho whole 
human race. So early as in 1775, he puh- 
lished an essay on the Aihject ; and in ten 
years anerwards appeared his Philosophy of 
ffistory. The pertectibility of man is in 
the first place demonstrated in this immortal 
work, from the relations of matter to intel- 
lect, and from the mnate tendeircy of iniel- 
lect to improve ; and mankind i^ then shown 
to have in fact steadily advanced from the 
earliest period of its history. Kant supplied 
what WBfl thus defective in Herder as to the 
application of his opinions. He holds also 
that by nature man is capable of indefioite 
perfection ; and that freedom is the grand 
means of attaining it. Freedom, however, 
necessarily leads to contention, fVom whioh 
must ultimately and after long strug^es, 
spring well-adjusted laws ; the most difiicult 

problem of history being, how to organize 
civil society so as to make its internal and 
externa! relations — the political constitution 
of di^rent slates — ^produce the greatest pos- 
sible good to all. To this end each state^ 
OS had long before been proposed by the 
elder St. Pierre — must become a member of 
the whole commooweahh of nations; for 
thus alone can an universal peace be ob- 
tained. In 17&6, Schiller, in Jena, showed 
that in order to elevate and purify human so- 
ciety, the cultivation of all the arts by minds 
divested of all undue restraints, must be con- 
:ted with the political reforms called for 
by Kant. Schiller's favourite idea, wu are 
William von Humboldt in his essay 
on that great man's genius, was, that the 
rudest savages are deeply sensible to the 
charms of music and poetry ; and that the 
elements of alt (hat is refined may be dis- 
covered among them, so as to be capable of 
assuming in able hands a beneficial direction 
for their civilisation- 

In 1804Pich(e, in his lectures delivered 
in Berlin, connected these speculations with 
those of the purely religious school of 
Schelling, Fichte adopts the doctrine of 
perfrclibility through freedom of action. 
Originally, says he, reason was mere in- 
stinct; and then man was an innocent being. 
With corruption this pure instinct diaappeai- 
I; and ultimately the human race fell into 
infusion, and became savage and barba- 
us. True science will work a restoration; 
id, after various epochs passed through, 
the fallen will be perfect again. According 
to the bold denunciations of Fichte, the 
present age b in the last degree base. But 
his system saves him from despondency ; 
and whilst he repudiates every corrupt 
thing with unsparing scorn, he declares 
himself, with the earnestness of an enthusi- 
ast and the dignity of k pi 


IftdutUial and Merai Stalt of Bei^tiun. 

ried adTocau of troth aod moral goodDesaJ 
ofbouadleas kaowiedgei and the lendereat 

ScbelLing placed religion as the baais of 
all bUlorical deduciions. He divides time 
inlD three ptiriods. The first waa the leiga 
of destiny, which crushed men and naiiuns, 
and diwLayed its blind power in the East 
and in Greece. ■ The second, he calls the 
reign of oature, which begaa with the Ro- 
mans, and coatinues alill. The third pe. 
riod vi to come with all ils glories, derived 
from the lessons of the past : the Christian 
religion being, according to Scheltiug, the 
mainspring of human improvement. 

Of the numerous theories to which the 
writing! of these remarkable men gave 
birth, those of GOrres, Stefiens, and Fr. 
Scblegel of Bonn are deservedly the best 
known. G&nres pursues Schelling'a spec- 
ulations upon catholic principles: Sisfieoa 
reasons uppn principles of proletlaniiam; 
Bchlegel is by profession a protestant, but 
leans decidedly lo Catholicism. The bril- 
liant and highly figurative elot^uence of 
Gdrres once made a great impression. His 
analysis of the indestructible elements of 
society, which he shows to be ever recurring 
in new and nobler forms of political exist- 
ence, is a production of surpassing merit. 
This analysis appeared in his Europe and 
the Revolution. Gftrres bassince lost him- 
self in religious mysticism, and in specula- 
tious upon the influence of benevolent des- 
potism in polities. 

Sieffens has also given a remarkable 
analysis of the elements of society, in his 
pictures of the diflerent ranks and classes of 
men, — the husbandman, the citizen, the 
•oholor, &c. In his work entitled " The 
present times and how they arose," be de- 
velopea with great ability the history of 
niankiud since the invasion of the Roman 
Empire by the barbarians, and since the 
cotemporaneous establishment of ChrisUau- 
ily to our days. He is most successful in 
the narrative of the last three centuries, 
His style is wonderfully fine ; and has been 
well described as presenting the Germaii 
language royally adorned with pearls and 

Schlegel'a Philosophy of History, the pre 
duction of his old age, can only be looked 
upon as the lesult of all that this unirertal 
scholar and enlightened man has thought in 
politics, in religion, in science, and m the 
fine arU. 

Two more names must be mentioned, 
and they complete a catalogue of which 
Germany may indeed be proud ; wo mean 
Hegel and Heibart. But yet, afisr all that 
those eminent men have written, little has 
VOL. xnv, 6 


in eSect been added to what Herder produ- 
ced in favour of the steady progressiou of 
the human race. To follow the subject 
completely in his pages, would be to survey 
all the re^tions of man, and all the ends of 
creation. The essential distinction of the 
human creature from the inferior animals^ 
the enormous error of confouoding man with 
the ape, the intellectual idootiiy of the vari- 
ous human races, their natural tendency to 
lire in peace, the gratuitous cruelty of the 
usual intercourse of civilized nations with 
savages all over the earth, the abomination 
of Negro slavery, the degrees of civilisation 
which are steps to a higher state of social 
being, the necessity of studying ihe language, 
the music, the government, and the paiticu. 
lar condition of savages, the duty of syoipa* 
thising with all mankind, the poorest as well 
s the most powerful, — all these things, 
pen which the public is only beginning lo 
be agreed, are clearly expounded by Herder; 
and it is no small praise lo the Germans, 
that all parties among tbem hold him in m 
much estimation now, as their fathers did 
sixty years ago. 

Art. IV.— 1. £»«' tvr la Statitifue 
Gintrate d» la Belgigue, contpoU «w 
des DoeumtHS puilies et parlieuliert. 
Par Xavier Heuschliug. firoxellei. 

2. De I'Etat de Vltutmctitn Primairt tt 
Populaire en Btlgiqut. Par Ed. Duc- 
p6tiaux. 2 Tomes. Bruxelles. 1838. 

3. Du Pri^rti et de FEtat aclmtl de la 
Reforme Peniteiitiaire. Par Ed. Due- 
p^tiaux. 3 Tomes. Bruxelles. 1886. 

The kingdom of Belgium is in some shape, 
and industriously speaking, the most satis- 
factory result of the revolutionary movement 
which eight years ago shook the throues of 
Europe. Whilst in France a mistaken pol- 
icy has hitherto prevented the realization 
by the nation of the full practical benefits 
for which its blood was spilled in the three 
days of July, and whilst the unhappy Poles 
rue the day when an eril destiny tempted 
them to lift their arms against tbetr loo pow- 
erful oppressor, the Belgians are in the en- 
joyment of as substantial ad vantages aa their 
most sanguine hopes before the struggle of 
September ever ventured to anticipate. 
T^eir conntry is delirered from n foreign 
yoke; their constitution is baaed on the 
most liberal principles ; their sovereign is 
of their own choice ; and their laws and iiui , 

tnduitriaJ and ttorat Slafe afSelgfunt. 


Bthutionq, though not yet in perfect organ!- 
zatioD, arein [hat state of progrcMion which 
promises well for the protperity and happi. 
ness of the people. 

Oar present purpose is not political, but 
to offer some information il]uatralj?e of the 
institalions and state of society in the Belg'c 
provinces. Wo have sympathiKed deeply 
with this people both in ils original strug- 
gles for independence, and its subsequent 
diplomatic martyrdom by means of the 
thousand and one protocols. We shall, 
however, confine ourselves here to a passing 
eiprenion nf regret at the diamemberment 
of the territory, whereby 3SQ,000 inhabit- 
anta of Limburg and Luxemburg have 
u^inst their will been made subjects of 
Holland. Our observations will be limited 
to the following heads; — 

Isl. Industrial Operalioos. 

2d. Education. 

8d. Crime and Prisons. 


There can be little question in regard to the 
elements of wealth which Belgium contains 
within herself, and we ahall record them 
briefly. It will Huffice to stale, that ihe pop- 
ulation of the Belgic provinces is now near 
four millions and a half,* and that the work- 
ing classes, who form about three-fourthH nf 
that number, are in their general character 
industrious and frugal. A fertile ^oil, nine- 
elevenths of which ia under actual cultiva- 
tion, and an agriculture so advanced as to 
be in some respects a model to other coun- 
tries, produce anouatly about twice the 
quantity of corn inquired for home.con-; 
iumption. The average price of wheat 
throughout Belgium in the year 1836, which 
may he taken as a fair average year, was, 
in English computation, 35«- '2d. per quar- 
ter.t The small cultivators are in tolerably 
easy circumstances, and the flourishing 
state of agriculture operates favourably upon 
manufacturing industry, every branch of 
which is in full activity. The coal mines 
of the province of Hainault alone produce 
more than those of alt France together, an" 
the annual quantity of coal raised in Belgi 
um exceeds 2,600,000 chaldrons. The iron 
mines of Liege, Limburg, nnd Luxemburg, 
were never worked so extensively. Up- 
wards of 160,000 tons of iron are annually 

• Od 31itDeceinb«r,I836, ItwuMcert&tnedto 
bo 4343,600. 

t In Aagiut, IS38, wheal had tnea Id BcIeEuhi 
to the rate of 50>. Grf. per Engliih quarter, bat it 

II - i__.i ^ period the 

the rate of 50>. Grf. per Engliili 
1 be reiDBiiibeTcd tha at the i 


founded, being sbout half as much as the 
whole quantity made in France, and nearly 
one-fourth of that in Great Britain. We 
need not describe Mr. Cockerill's gigantic 
establishment atSeraing, which witn steam 
engines of not less in the whole than 1000 
horse power, and 8000 workmen, sends 
forth daily for use, some 25 tons of machine- 
ry of every description. We heard with 
regret of the late temporary embarrassment 
of this distinguished house, but with the aid so 
timely and judiciously afforded by the Gor- 
ernmenl, are glad to find it has resumed the 
activity which for the moment was suspend. 
ed. The cloth manubcture, in which, at 
Verviera alone, 40,000 workmen are en- 
gaged, employs in its various branches a 
capital equal to three millions sterling. The 
linen manufacture, principally in toe two 
Flanders, gives employment to 400,000 
persons, and the annual production is esti- 
mated at four millions and a half sterling. 
The cotton manufacture, notwithstanding 
the loss of the Dutch colonial markets, has 
steadily improved since 1680, and now 
represents a capitat of at least three millions 
sterling. The manufacturers begin to find 
the natural home-consumption more advan. 
tageous than a forced foreign market, and 
we wete informed, during a recent visit to 
Qbent, that notwithstanding the loss of the 
artificial stimulus of tbe Dutch fund called 
the "Million of Industry," there were S2 
cotton-factories in full activity. The lace 
and silk manufeciures are also thriving. For. 
eign commerce has, toacertain extent, chang. 
ed its direction, but there can be no doubt of 
its being in a healthy state. The value of the 
imports, on nn average of the two last vears 
before us, (1834 and 1835) wss 212 mil- 
lions of francs, and that of the exports, 148 
millions of francs. The reader may b« 
surprised to hear that a considerable part of 
this trade was carried on with Holland, not- 
withstanding the nominal warlike status 
lately existing; the imports from that ene- 
my averaged 25 millions, and the exports 
16 1-2 millions. Tbe Belgians even sup- 
plied the Dutch with arms to be used 
against themselvesl The diminution of 
the trade of Antwerp we believe to be a 
mere phantasm of the Orangiats; the truth 
being that some lai^e capitalists have suf- . 
fered by the change of circumstances, and 
that the trade has passed from the hands of 
a few, into a wider and more beneficial 
range. The number of ships that now en- 
ter the port of Antwerp is considerably 
greater than it was at any time during the 
union with Holland, aa the following figures 
will show: 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

luduttriat aitd Marat State of Beigmm. 

Ye»z. ShlfM. Tonnage. 

1829 . . lOSl . . 138,945 

1830 . . 732 . . 123,407 
teS2 . . 1258 . . 146,689 
1834 . . 1065 . . 188,200 
1836 . . 1250 . . 176,461 
1887 . . 1429 . . 226,769 

The capital invested ia commarcial apecula- 
Uooa in Bel^um muat altogether be very 
coaaideraUe indeed. Upwards of 300 mil- 
lions of fnncs have, since the year 1833, 
been invested in the SoeieUtanotigmei, which 
are exclusively raatricied to manufacturing 
Oporations. The amouat of property insur- 
ed in elevea assurance offices in Belgium 
was, in 1837, 1,786,832,322 fraoca, ezciu. 
sive of marine assurances, and of the value 
of 200 millions of francs insured in foreign 
countries. The capital invested in the Sn- 
dele gtneraie pour ftmeruer VlnduslTK ia 
105 miljioDs of francs; that of the SocUtt 
dei Capitaiutet re-tmu, 60 millions; and of 
the Societi du Action* reditu, 40 millioDs; 
and although the Btrnqne de la Belgique, 
with a capital of 20 millions, lately suspend, 
ed its payments, that uafortunate event does 
not appear to have given any serious shock 
to banking and trading cKMrations in general. 
To these indications of natural wealth, we 
will only add, that the progress of the sya- 
lematic lines of railways, ordered to be con- 
slrucled by the law of the 1st of May, 1834, 
has already advanced so far, that a direct 
oommuQtcation ii open both between Antwerp 
and Brussels, and across the whole extent of 
the kiugdom from Oatend to Liege. The 
undertaking ia not only profitable to the gov- 
ernment, but, what is very important, places 
the means of locomotion within the reach of 
all classes of the population, the fares being 
properly fixed as low as possible.* We will 
not dwell on a mailer of such notoriety as 
the fitcilities of communicatioD which these 
railways are opening, not only between all 
parts of the Belgic proviuces, but eventually 
between the east and west of Europe, The 
Belsiao line will be extended in the one di- 
rection to the Rhine, and in the other to Pa> 
ris, and with it the commerce of Belgium 
cannot but acquire a large proepeclive in- 
crease of activity and expansiOD. 


The educational inslituttoua of Belgium 
are of three kinds, — the primary schools, the 
collegea or secondary schools, and the uni- 
Of these, by far the moat import- 

is op«n wsesoni tre, from Bros- 
5 BnglMi milM) 3l fnnra; to 

* The &rei in lbs 
mIs to Oatend (85 Gngun mUM) 9| inno* ; lo 
Liege (TO miles} 3 fimoce; and propottionatelj for 
shorter diataueet. 


ant branch is that of primary or popular in- 
struction, of the actual conditioned which M, 
Ducp6tiaux haa furnished us with a very 
complete account in the work before us. 

Pjiblic instruotioo may be entirely unre- 
stricted, as in England ; or it may be placed 
under the exclusive control of the govern- 
ment ; or a mixed system may be adopted, of 
vesting the general superioteadencs in the 
government, but with liberty to Individuals 
of teaching, and keeping schools, without any 
previous permission of the government for 
that purpose. Before the Belgic Revolu- 
tion, the government had the exclusive su- 
perintendence, by virtue of a clause, in the 
luadamental law of the Netherlands, to this 
effect ; — " L'instriiclion est un objet constant 
des Boins du gouvernament Le roi faitren- 
dre compte tous les ana aux 4iats gAn6raux 
de l'6lat des 6coles 8up6rieures, moyennes, 
et iof^rieurea," — subject to a concurrent sur- 
veillaaceof the alh^nies and colleges brtbe 
municipal aulhorities. The primary schools 
were superintended by provincial boards no- 
minated by the government, and all teachers 
were subjected to examination, and to re- 
ceive diplomas, or certificates of capacity, 
without which they were prohibited from 
teaching at all. The Ibe of examination 
taken was such that the Catholic clergy 
could not conBcIentiously submit to it ; and 
much was required or ihe candidates, that 
) competition of private teachers with the 
public schoolmasters was gradually exclud- 
ed, and numbers of private boarding and day 
schools were obliged lo be discontinued. Thie 
government succeeded in monopolizing to it- 
self the aducatioa of the people upon tba 
Dutch system;* and whatever may be the 
merits of that system in other respects, it 
was obviously so inappropriate to the cir. 
cumstances of Belgium, that it is no great 
wonder the Belgians regarded it m an injury 
and an insult, and that it formed in fact one 
of the proximate causes of the Revolution. 
The right of private instruction had alwsys 
been free in Belgium at all former periods of 
her history. Education bad, in truth, been 
practically neglected, both by her Austrian 
and French rulers. Joseph II., indeed, 
made some laudable efforts ; among which 
was one for the establishment of normal 
schools, but they resulted in nothing ; and 
the legislation of the French revolutionary 
period also failed, principally by reason of 
its making the national insiructioo conlin- 
gent upon its being solicited by the inhabit, 
ants of particular districts ; — a contingency 
not in unison with the habits of the maas of 

latad by Mr. Bonier. 


I»d*ttrial and Moral State of Belgwrn. 


the people any where, aa experience haa 
fi]]ly showD. The Dutch aygtem, with all 
ha faulu, was far more aucceesful than any 
previoua educational experimeDt that had 
beeo made is Belgium. It appeara that in 
the inCeiTBl of eleven yeara, between 1817 
and 1B3S, the number of pupila frequenting 
the public school a had increased from 
162,898 to 247,496, and the amount of sa- 
laries paid to the comffiuno^ teachera, from 
157,680 to 488,150 francs, lu the same 
apace of time 1 1 4B schools and Sfl8 teachers' 
houses were built or repaired; 1977 maa. 
ters and lt8 mistresaes were licensed ; and 
the reyenue Taiscd from the eonwunui, the 
provinces and the state, for educational pur- 
poaea, waa gradually augmenting. These 
facts ere candidly recorded by M. Dticp6- 
tiaux, who fully admitB the beneftta which 
the country derived from the Dutch ayatei 
The tneihods of teaching were improvei 
one normal school was eatablished, as ivell 
as several model achoola, in the great towns : 
and the provincial juriea put the schools into 
organization with an efficiency which, if free 
competition had been permitted, would have 
been highly desirable. But no ayatem of 
policy could be lasting which waa ao deci- 
dedly opposed to the great principlea of so- 
cial juatice and religious toleration, and which 
interfered eo directly with the national Ian- 
gUDge and feelings. Accordingly M. Due. 
p€liaus informs us that in 1828 its downfall 
was preparing. 

" Prom IB2S began to show itself, in the 
southern provinces, the reaction of opinion 
against the monopoly assumed by the state 
in regard to instruction. That system, to 
which the liberals had at first given their 
consent and support, but which the Catholics 
had received with reserve, was openly at- 
tacked by both in its tendencies, avowed or 
secret. It was reproached witn admitting 
no competition, and converting education 
into an instrument of Dutch and Proteatani 
propagendism ; the proscription of the teach- 
ing religious congregations who had refused 
to submit to the rorms of ' * 

guaee in many schools, the disgust of the 
(eacners who refused to comply with the 
prescribed rules, the sort of aiacrelionary 
power exercised by the Inspectors ofdiatricls 
in the name of the government— stirred up 
interests and susceptibilities easy to be ex- 
cited and alarmed. In spite of the decided 
hostility of public opinion, the government, 
in 1S29, determined to propose to the legis- 
lature a project of law intended to redress 
grievances, based upon the principle of the 
free exercise of instruction. But this law 
was withdrawn in tlic month of May in the 
following year, in cooaequence of the discus, 
aions lo which it gave rise in the Second 

Chamber. Soon afterwards the RevohiUon 
of September destroyed at once the Dutch 
dominion in Belgium, and the system of in- 
struction which it had introduced into our 
country." — Vol. i. p. 61. 

The constitution of the new kingdom of 
Belgium proclaimed the general freedom of 
instruction in these terms ; — " L'enaeigne- 
ment est libra : loute mesure preventive eat 
interdite : la repression dea delita n'esi r^die 
que par la loi. L'instruction publique £>n- 
n6e aux frais de I'etat, est figalement r^l6e 
par la lot."* The new govemmmt abdicat. 
ed entirely all the coercive powers exercised 
by the Dutch king and the provincial boanb 
acting under him, and limited the auperin- 
tendence of the latter (o the achoola support- 
ed by the puUic treasury either wholly or in 
part. Diplomaa, though permitted, were no 
longer obligatory, and inspectors were ap- 
pointed on the recommendation of the pro- 
vincial states (the elective body.) Finally, 
the provinoial boards were wholly suppress- 
ed by a decree of the Regent, reaervingonly 
to the government the right of inapecting the 
schools paid by the stale, as it should deem 
fit ; — a right, however, which hitherto it has 
not thought proper to exercise. 

The constitutional charter evidently con- 
templated a subsequent law for the r^uia- 
tion of public instruction, end commissioneiB 
were appointed, in 1831 and 18S4, for this 

Surpose, who framed two distinct yrajeU de 
oi ; but neither of them haa been adopted 
by the legislslnre. At present, therefore, 
instruction in Belgium is aubjeet to no legis- 
lative enactment beyond the general disposi- 
tions of the constilution. The goveniment 
has no power, except as regards the schools 
in the pay of the stale ; the rest depends upon 
the pleasure of individuals and the caprice 
of the communal councils, who in many 
cases have refused any aid whatever out of 
the funds of the eonmHne, Thus the com- 
munal achoola on the Dutch system have, in 
their tun), been forced to give way to private 
schools, of an inferior description: bad 
school -masters have taken the place ot good 
ones; and there is no longer a!)y Dorroal 
school in existence. The allowance to the 
government schools is considered inaufficient; 
and although in some towns (especially at 
Ghent and Liege) the inhabitants have ex- 
erted themselves to keep up their schools, 
things are, upon the whole, in so unsatislhc- 
tory a state, that in Brussels, according to 
M. Ducpftliaux, the proportion of children 
otiending the primary schools is scarcely 1 
in 20 of the population of the city-t 

■t I'haw remuka were made at.tlie cloK.of thn 

I mado at.tlie cloK.of U 


Ininartai and Morat Slate vfBe^tmn. 

It cannot excite surpriae that, under this 
do-nothing aystem, educBtion in Belgium 
■hould mthcT have retrograded than made 
progress since the Rerohition. At teaat one- 
tiiird of the rising generation(M.Diicp6l{aux 
considers one-half) are absolutely without 
any regular inatructioii ; for, reckoning to 
every seven inhabilanta one child of a fit age 
for school, the public and private schools 


togelbef ought to «W)thin BOfl.OOO pupils ; 
whereas tb^ are only attended by sbout 
<aO,000, of Whom 186,000 wre girls, who 
are therefore worse off in proportion thta 
the boys, iho numbers of bo* wsea in Bel- 
gium being nearly equal. The following 
table complied from the official Teturns, will 
show the numbers receiving instruction at 
periods before and since the Revolution : 

Number or aehocdi,vii. 

Yeu laae. 



On 31 D^. I 


PriTEle .... 

.' 487 . 

. . . 469 
. . .3590 

ToW . . . 

. ' 3541 



Number of MboUra, Til. 
In eoniDioD icfaoda . 
Mixed do. ■ 
Privrt* do. . . 

'. i 1E«7,TS3 
. 119,858 


. 99;857 
. 153,286 

Total . . . 

. 307.580 




1 1 in 10.7 

1 in 11.3 

1 in 10.7 

the whole pc^ulatiaa 

The provinces of Luxemburg and Namur 
are those in which instruction is the most 
widely, and the two Flanders and Liege 
those in which it is the least diffused. Com- 
paring Belgium with other countries, in re- 
spect to the diffusion of instruction, she 
stands juat below Austria, and just above 
England, She is several steps above France 
and Ireland, but (alls very abort ot Holland, 
the Swiss cantons, Pruasia, Bavaria, Scot- 
land, the United States, and of every coun- 
try indeed where education is pretty widely 

But it is not the mere deficiency of in- 
struction that is to be lamented. Il rarely 
happens that anything is taught beyond the 
elements of reading and writing, and in the 
summer season one holf of the iihildren enu- 
merated es acholara are employed in the 
fields, and do not attend school at all. The 
increaae of private schools affords of itself a 
strong presumption of the inferiority of the 
teachers; for, whilst in 1828 there were 
only 3145 teachers with diplomas atiesting 
their capacity, we have seen that in 1836 
there were no less than 6823 schools, und 
reckoning but one teacher to each, we hdve 
thtis more than 3000 teachers of whose fit- 
ness no proof has been given- All these 
circumstances concur in showing the very 
bad sUtte into which the education of , the 
people has fallen in Belgium, and the neces- 
sity of the legislature's adopting some early 
and decisive measures for its improvement. 

M. Ducp6tiauT, who is never weary of 
promoting the welfare of his countrymen, 
has, in the work before cited, 

.measure, in the shape of a projtt dt lot, 
which has been favourably received by en- 
lightened persona in Belgium, and ia not un. 
worthy of attention in other countries. His 
plan is briefly this. Primary instruction is 
to t>e declared either private or public. Pri- 
vate schools to continue unrestricted in 
every respect, except that their existence is 
to be notified to the authorities- The public 
primary schools to be of three kinds, viz, 
guardian schools for children from two to 
six years old : elementary schools, in which 
are to be taught morals and religion, rending, 
writing, and arithmetic, weights and mea- 
surea, and the French or German language, 
according to circumstances ; end superior 
primary schools, in which the instruction is 
to be still further advanced. The number of 
schools to be on a scale in proportion to the 
population. Model, and normal schools, 
unions of teachers, and circulating libraries, 
(o be also established. All parents either 
to send tlieir children to the public schools, 
or to provide sufficiently for their instruction 
elsewhere, from the age of six to fourteen 
years. Teachers to be appointed by the 
communal councils, on the recommendation 
of local committees. Committees of ex- 
amination to be appointed for each province. 
The primary schools to bo maintained by the 
eomfflutiM, the model schools by the provin- 
ces, and the normal schools by the state. 
An inspector-general to be appointed for the 
kingdom ; and reports lo be made period- 
ically to govcrnraenl and ihe Chambers. 
Such IB M. Ducp^tiaus's plan, which devel. 
Opes a more complete system than i^al^Afj^ 

IjidKMtial amd Sioral State 1/ Stlgimm. 


either of tha commiMioiii referred to, ftnd 
the leading featurea of which are by no 
meani uolikely to be adopted by the legis- 

It has been well observed by M. Ducp6- 
tiauz, that a system of national instruction 
would lead incidentally to the correction of 
that enonnoua eYilr^-lhe over-working of 
children in the factories. There is at pre- 
sent no l^islation in Belg^ium on this sub- 
ject, and there are to be seen in the manu- 
tactoriea at Ghent, Liege, and Yerriers, 
thousands of young persons, whose pate and 
etiolated faces proclaim the rapid decay of 
their health and strength. Their imti 
lahouT are thirteen imd eoem fourtten houn 
daily. We are well awareof thedifficulties 
of restricting f&ctoi^-labour, without placing 
the manufacturing interest itself in jeopardy, 
and we are inclined to think a general edu- 
cational law would in alt countries prove a 
belter remedy than any special legislation in 
regard to working hours. 

The second or intermediate branch of 
Belgian education, consists at present of the 
colleges, or Aiheneea, established in all the 
large towns. These are maintained princi- 
pally by the inhabitants, but receive in addi- 
tion some aid from the state. The classics, 
modern languages, history, geography, and 
the mathematical and physical sciences, are 
taught pretty much upon the Dutch system. 
Beside these, there are other colleges for 
general education, under the exclusive man- 
agement of the clergy. The Jesuits alone 
have established four, — at Brussels, Namur, 
Aiost, and Ghent. These are intended to 
compete with the Alhiniei in the education 
of all classes, and it Aay easily be supposed 
are conducted with a more marked religious 
bias. They are distinct from the theological 
seminaries, established in each diocese, for 
the special training of the priesthood. The 
schools of industry, of painting, music, die, 
belong also to this branch of education. 
They ace numerous and well attended. 

Belgium contains four univeraiiiea ; two 
of the States, at Liege and Ghent, which 
existed also during the union with Holland ; 
the Catholic University of Louvnin, founded 
by the clergy ; and the free University of 
Brussels, established by private association. 
The number of student^ according to the 
last returns before us, was as follows ; — 

Li«ge (Session 1837-8} 
Ghent da 

Brussels do. 

Louvaio, (1 January,' 1838) 



The freedom of unireisity instruction is 
almost as con^ilete as thai of the schools. 
UniyersitioB have been erected quite inde- 
pendently of the govemmeDt, and without 
being in any way responsible to it for the 
eybtem pursued. Degrees, however, can 
only be conferred by the central body, called 
"le jury d'ezameo," at Brussels, composed 
of members of the several universities, out 
of whom the jury ia selected which assigns 
the university honours. Both the private 
and the state universities are equally obliged 
tn resort to this central jury for their de- 
grees; but, beyond this, their systems of 
education are not subjected to any standard 

The idea of a free uuivofsity originated 
with the Catholic party, who did not, how- 
ever, give their establishment the title of 
Catholic, until the liberal party had begtm to 
set up another in opposition. It was opened, 
under a bull of institution from the Pope, in 
November, 1834, at Mechlin, with aU the 
£clat of a high mass, and a Latin oration 
from the rector, (the Abti£ de Ram,) demon, 
sirating the consistency of the Catholic faith 
with the progress of the arts and sciences; 
and it was afterwards, by the favour of the 
government) removed to Louvain, the seat 
of the most anciont University of Belgium, 
and recently of the Phikwopbical C<^lege, 
with which King William so injudiciously 
scandalized his Catholic subjects. Tbe 
Catholic University has unquestionably been 
a successful attempt ; its numbers have 
gradually increased from 86 in its first ses- 
sion, to between 400 and 500, and it bids 
fair to become an important post of clerical 
ascendency and Catholic propagondism. 

The Liberal University was founded in 
Brussels within a few days after its rival. 
In addition to the ordinary course of study, 
it claims the merit of a fiflh faculty, dedicated 
to political and administrative science, with a 
view to the qualification of students for pub. 
lie life. It numbers among its professors 
men of considerable distinction in science 
and philosophy, but these professors have 
been very inadequately remunerated. The 
liberals have not, in fact, supported ifaeit 
university so well as the Catholics, whose 
zeal in the cause has been quite overflowing. 
But there is, we trust, no fear of Brussels 
being able to maintain an institution so pe- 
culiarly adapted 10 prepare the Belgian 
youth for a sphere of public usefulness in 

We cannot stay to inquire here into the 
many imporlanl cons idem Lions which occur 
in arranging a scheme of national educa- 
tion. But there is one point upon which its 
success in Belgium will probably depend 

Indu3trial <md Moral Stale pfSelgiim. 

more than upon any other; viz. its connec. 
tioo wiih the religion profesaed by more 
than Dioeteen-tweDtietha of the population; 
ihst is, the Catholic faith. There are, in 
fact, only a few thousand persoDS belonging 
to other persuasiona. The Belgians nre 
in genera! wsrnily attBched to their religion, 
BnJ the fate of the Dutch goveroni em ought 
to be B standing proof of the folly, not to 
say wickedness, of altemping to proselytize 
them from their sncient creed. We do not 
believe ihe Protestant form of Christianity 
to be suited to the Belgian temperament and 
character ; but however (his may be, the fact 
of Protestnnlifim never having made any pro- 
gress in the fielgic provinces, is enough to 
show (hat, in whatever the legislator has to do 
with religion, he mtist at least respect Catho- 
lic institutions. It is true that no established 
church is recognized by the constitution, 
which, like that of 'Prance, declares liberty 
of conscience for all persuasions, and assigns 
stipends to the ministers of all, even of the 
Jews. But still, Caiholiciam is practically 
the national belief; and the Catholic clergy, 
by their numbers alone, cannot but keep 
alive a mighty influence over the public 
mind. There is the Archbishop of Mech- 
lin, (the well known M. Steri, lately elevat- 
ed to the rank of a cardinal,) with five bish- 
ops, a proportionate number of vicars-gene- 
ral and canons, a stafi* of 4731 secular 
clergy, and 333 monasteries and convents, 
inhabited by the regular clergy and female 
devotees. The clergy as a body unques- 
tionably command the reverence of the 
people, more especially in the rural districts, 
where they exercise considerable authority 
in political matters and march their flocks 
up to the poll at elections in such excellent 
discipline, that in some parts of the country, 
no opposing candidate has any chance 
against the proteg^ of the priesthood. We 
will not diasemble that the Belgian clergy 
are keenly alive to the interests of their 
church, and that they desire to sway their 
flocks in worldly as well as in spiritual af- 
fairs. But they nre certainly not an ignor- 
ant and bigoted clergy, in the sense in 
whicli those terms are applicable to the 
priesthood in some other countries. 

rit of the Gospel to act as an antidote t< 
tendency, which the sense ofpolitical ponci 
has, to deprive man of that healing balm— 
the sentiment of profound Bubmission to God. 
... It would be unjust to compare the clergy 
of Belgium to that of Spain, for in the latter 
country two things are wanting, which in the 
former exerciseamost salutary influence, the 

mildness of the nationBl character, and the 
advanced state of civilisation.* 

The Belgian clergy have participated, 
some of the inferior orders very strongly 
•o, in the liberal notions of their times; and, 
far from any hostility to the education of the 
people, they have shown every possible dis- 
position to further it, provided only it be 
based upon religion, — by which is meant, of 
course, Catholicism. A circular letter from 
the Archbishop of Mechlin, now before us, 
is in substance to that effect. 

Now the promoters of public iDstniction, 
rightly considtiring it a tint qui won, that 
religion should in all cases be taught in the 
schools, have, without hesitation, agreed to 
place it under the aii peri men den ee of the 
clergy, saving the rights of conscience of 
diasentingparties. The commission of 1834 
and M. Ducp^tiaux have alike adopted from 
the French code (he following declaration, 
as a part of their plans : " L'enaeignement 
de la religion est donn^ sous la direction de 
ses ministres : le vosu dee pdres de famllle 
sera toujours consult^ et siiivi en ce quicon- 
cerne la participation de leursenfans &l'in- 
slruction religieuse." Thus the schools will 
ssentially Christian teaching generally 
the elements of the religion approved by 
the mass of the nation, and making at the 
same time adequate provision for those who 
difier from it. We should not anticipate in 
Belgium any prnctical difficulties in the 
working of this plan, which will secure 
the co-operation of the clergy, and we trust 
lay a good foundation for the improvement 
of the lower orders. In countries tike 
England or the United Slates, where a 
variety of religious sects are constantly 
coming into contsct with each other, the 
difficulties of making a satisfactory arrange- 
ment for conveying religious insliuctioo in 
the national schools are greatly enhanced. 
To these the circumstances of Prussia are 
more analogous: there, according io M. 
Cousin, religion is uniformly taught in the 
schools, provision bein^ made thot there 
shall be teachers as far as possible of all 
sects, and where this is impossible, the 
parents are themselves to educate their child- 
ren in their own tenets. But, says the 
Prussian code, '• in every school in a Chris- 
tian stale the predominant apirit, and which 
is common to all sects, is a pious and pro- 
found veneration for Almighty God." This 
is a sentiment which most will agree ought 
to pervade the laws that regulate national 
education in all countries. In surrendering 
to Ihe Catholic clergy the genera! superin- 


I^^(^llt^rit^l■a»d Ifyral SWe ^Seigiim^ 


leadmca of roligiom uurtruciion, the Qel- 
gians may perhaps MBietinMs find that cla. 
rical zeal will oulrua discrelion ; bul ihe 
schmlB will be the foutidatioa of the best 
bulwark that can be erected against exces- 
sive clerical preienBions,— namely, the 
growing knowledge aad discerameDt of 
the paopls themsalTea. 


. The state of orime is, of courae, one of 
the most impoitaiiL indioea to the morality 
of a natian ; and we ahall therefore refer to 
some Btalialicat data illustrative of this point. 
It will be aeen that crimes have considera- 
bly diminisbed siace the Revolution;- and 
although we are not exactly prepared to 
say that the separation from Holland has 
had a direct moral effect, still it is saiisfac. 
tory to know that the Revolution cannot be 
charged with having introduced an increas- 
ed propensity to crime. In all countries 
ignorance and poverty may be regarded as 
the immediate progenitors of offences; and 
it is by the removal of these evils, rather 
than in the perfection of penal systems, that 
the way is really to be prepared for lighien- 
ing the criminaf calendars, and relieving (he 
pnaona From what has been said, it will 
easHy be supposed that education is not suf- 
ficiently diffused in Belgium to operate with 
any great force towards the reduction of 
crime; the cause of its diminution would 
seem rather to lie iu the improving circum- 
stances of (he people in wealth and ease, 
QQd in the growth of those industrious and 
careful habits amongst them, which are (he 
strongest aniidotes against temptations 
to violate tbe laws The small cultivators, 
who form a very numerous class of the po- 
pulation, are remarknble for their industry, 
forethought, and economy.* The system 
on which relief is administered to the poor 
is by no means free from objections, but the 
inmates of the dap6ls of mendicity, and tbe 
poor co)oity o( Merx-pias-Rt/ekevoT»el, have 
decreased in numbers since (he Revo!u(ton ; 
and thu prddnal increase of tbe deposits in 
the savings' banks is particularly gratifying. 
In 1833 the amount of these deposits was 
between three and fo^rmillionsof francs, — in 
1635 it reached 13,707,346 francs, — and on 
the lat of Mnrch, 1838, it was no less ths 
3&,Q71,634 francs We cannot but considi 
such facts as these to be closely connected 
with the diminution of crime which we shall 
show to have taken place since 18 

The administration of criminal - justice 
and cksslfication of offences being very 

• See tho Report of GeorgD Nicbolla, Eaq. un (he 
Conditton of the Lsbouiiug ClsMOS in UoUuid and 
Belf^iiini, 1B38. 

much the saifie in Belfputn u in France, 
we have the ready means of comparison be. 
tween the two countries ; and by that com- 
parison it appears that tha number ol per- 
sons annually charged with crimes is 40 
per cent- less in Belgium than in France. 
The average annual number of persons ac- 
cused of crimes in Belgium was, — 
Years lohabitaala. 

18:36 to 18S0, 767, or 1 in every 5007 
1831 to 1834, 620, or 1 in every 6724 
which exhibits a general diminution of about 
25 per cent. The diminution appears to have 
been the greatest in the province of Brabant 
(in which Brussels is situate), where it wss 
as much as 42 per cent., and the least in 
Luxemburg, where it was only 4 per cent. 
In speaking of crimes, we mean offences of 
a grave nature, and tried by the courts of 
assize. In regard to minor offences, (detUt 
correetiomieU) the average number is also 
less in Belgium than in Prance, but it has 
remained nearly stationary in Belgium 
during tha two periods referred to ; the 
numbers charged havii>g been,— 

Years. Inhabitanta. 

1B2S to 1829, 22,641, or 1 to every 171 
1631 to 1884, 23,443, or 1 to every 173 
The acquillala are stated at from 15 to 20 
per cent, of the accusations for crime, and 
at nearly 25 per cent of the correctional 

Capital punishment forms a part of the 
criminal code of Belgium, but its execution 
is gradually becoming less and less frequent 
'ts secondary punishments consist wholly 
if different degrees of imprisonment, the 
hagnei, or gallles, having been for some 
past abolished. The penal prisona 
istofthe Jlfotsonde/one at Ghent; the 
Maiion de reelvaion at Vilvorde ; the house 
of correction at Si. Bernard, near Antwerp, 
for correctional offenders, with a separate 
ward for boys; and the military prison at 
AlosL The number of persons confined in 
these prisons has lately averaged from 3600 
to 3700. In addition to these a distinct prison 
for convicted females is in progress of erec- 
tion at Namur. In the chief (own of each 
province (here is a mauoa d'arHt et dejua- 
lice, for the accused, and those condemned 
for short terms; at tbe chief towns of each 
arrondissement a maiton d'arrii ; and about 
150 tnaisons de depbl, or police stations. 

We have devoted some personal observa- 
tion to the management of these prisons, 

• See the official docnmenl entitled, " Compte 
dc I'Administntiaode Ik JuiticeCriminelleen BeL 
giqoe pendant lea innJel 1831 i 1834." pufalwliBd 
bj tha miniatai of jualics in 1B3G. The ■coonnt 
has not been continued toahtn Ate. .. I , 

Th£ PlaloMp^ of Kant. 


aDd have DO hesitation in proaouocing ihi 
very inadequate to their purpose, both as 
penal iD3ti(uiions and places ofaafe custody, 
The old vicious ayslem ot association con- 
tinues to prevail, and the legitimate ends of 
ptinishment are made so subordiaole to 
those of profit derivable from ihe prisoni 
labour, that the establish men Is at Ghent i 
Vilvorde aret io fact, great niaaufaclories 
rather than prisons. 

The Belgian army is almost entirely 
equipped by tho labour of the prisoners, 
which is assigned to contractors for each 
particular branch of work. As an induci 
moDt to labour, the prisoners are allowed 
portion of tbeir earnings ; and of this portion 
one-third only is required to be set aside as 
B reserved fund, the other two.thirda being 
■ allowed to ho spent at the canicens, which 
are to be found in alt the large prisons. 
Meat, tea, coffee, beer, a:id tobacco, are per- 
mitted to be sold in the canteens ; and, we 
were assured, that, but for this indulgence, 
it would be found difficult tb get the work 
djne by the prisonors. Now we are fully 
aware that the treatment of prisoners, con- 
fined for long terms, will always require 
considerable modifications of general rules ; 
and in the penal prisons of Belgium, ofiend. 
era are confined for terms of twenty years 
and upwards, or for ibo residue of their 
lives. We even saw an old man in the 
Maison do Force at Ghent, who had been a 
prisoner for sixty years ! But we are con- 
viaced that it is perfectly idle to expect in 
Belgium, or any other cauntry, cither the 
repression of crime, or the reformation of 
o^nders, from a system of prison discipline 
such as that we have been describing. M. 
Ducp^tiaux, the iiispec tor-general, is fully 
aware of ils worthlessncss ; and in his valu- 
able work on the Penitentiary system, pre- 
fixed to this article, has given the most satis- 
fai:tory reasons for preferring a system of 
entire separation of the prisoners from each 
other. The government has also so far ap- 
proved the latter system, as to cause an 
addition to be made Io the Maison de Force 
at Ghent, (»mprising thirty-six cells, of suC 
ficient dimensions to bec(»ne the habitation 
of prisoners in a state of complete separa- 
tion. We have some doubts whether the 
construction of these cells is sucli as efiec. 
tually to preclude communication ; but, at 
all events, the experiment is creditable to 
the Belgian government, as manifesting a 
desire to introdLice into its prisons the system 
which the most experienced persona concur 
in recommending, as that which alone alTurds 
n prospect of any satisfactory moral results, 

Discharged criminals aro placed undei 
tho surveillance of the administrative com. 

VOL. XXI v. 7 


missions, and colleges of regents, who take 
measures Io provide them with employment. 
This is no light difficulty in any country ; 
and continually brings us back to llie para 
mount importance of the systematic educa- 
tion of the people. Far, upon a recent in- 
quiry, it was found, that out of every hun- 
dred offenders detained in the penal prisons 
of Belgium, sixty-ono could neither read nor 
write, fifleeii had received partial instruc. 
tjon, and twenty-four only could read and 
write fairly. Such facts speak more than 
volumes of argument, for sending the school- 
masler abroad, with ail speed, throughout 
the Belgic provinces. 

Art. V, — I. KatWt, Im., torgf&ltig reci. 
dirte Werke. Gcsammt-ausgahe, in 10 
Banden. — (Kant's Works, carefully re- 
vised. Complete edition, in 10 vols.) 
Leipzig. 1637 to 1839. 

2. Aunt's, Im., Sanmiliehe Werke. Her- 
ausgcgeben von Karl Rosenkranz and F. 
W. Schubert. (Kant's (Ikjmplete Works, 
edited by Rosenkranz and Schubert) — 
Vol. I. to VIll, Leipzig. 1337 to 1839. 

It is not when the cold grey dawn of morn- 
ing is first visible above the horizun, and the 
iludent, recruited by rest, feels empowered 
o grapple anew with the intricacies of some 
luhllc argument ; it is not when the sua 
attains his meridian, and the sense delights 
sions of spar- studded grottoes and crys- 
tal fountains ; it is not at the gentle vesper 
hour, when sweet emotions and kind sympa- 
thies are busy with our nature-^-but in the 
dead hush of night, when outward scenes 
and earthly relationships seem lost in the 
lilence of Solemnity; when the soul retires 
from the external sphere, into the inmost 
world, and marvels that the common cases 
of Life should ever disturb her sublime re- 
pose ; when she hearkens, a loving disciple, 
to the teachings of intuitive conscience — 
then is the time when the Philosophy ofKaut 
is most worthily appreciated. The stale of 
m!nd which he requires is not activity — that 

too restless ; nat lassitude — that is too 
dormant ; not affeclion — that is too lender ; 
but an elevated and wakeful submission, 
wherein truths ate eommtnicated by Reason, 
rather than acquired by Perception. 

In a sympathetic cstimatiuti of Kant's 
Philosophy, there is first generated within 
the breast an indifference to, if not a doubt 
of, the world's material existence. The 
thoughts are then directed to a ditfcrent order 
of things, where we are fully compens;>ted 
' 'osinc the empirical charms of sense, F 


Tk« Phitotepky a/ Kant. 


a more dignified perceplion of moral and 
le^lfttive Reason. Kuit, it is true, deprives 
that reason of a hundred iateresu with which 
other teachers have associated it. He nei- 
iher looks with Fichte at the combat which 
ensues between Reason and the outward 
world as a sort of knightly tournamenl, 
wherein the Mental Power is the perpetual 
antagonist of Sense. He seeks not, with 
Wolf, to impose upon the Sovereign Faculty 
the mighty task of harmoniously perfecting 
the relationships of Spirit and Matter. He 
neither demands of it, with Schclling, enthu' 
aiaam for a religious system, nor presents 
to it the ideals of Hegel, to be realised in 
national, social, or Aimily life. All these 
are interesting theories, which vanish with 
the close of day, and are lost in the oblivi< 
of the midnight hour, when Kant summons 
before our eyes the magic power of Will, 
and commands us lo submit implicitly to 
practical reason's abstract law, called Duty, 

This law Kant renders most prominent, 
impressive, and distinct, by divesting it of 
all the insinuating and alluring garbs where- 
with) fbr the sake of attraction, both ancient 
and modem philosophers had apparelled it. 
They pointed out the beneficial results ac- 
cruing from a strict fulfilment of duly, and 
sought lo enlist the mental and moral facul- 
ties for the service of a stern though just 
Sovereign, by holding out hopes of speedy 
psychical promotion, and the realization of 
whatever ideal majesty Poets had ascribed 
lo the soul. These were the highest motives 
exhibited to induce obedience to the law 
Duty ; others of a less elevated character 
were not wanting. Kant, however, consid. 
eredall such coaxing discipline equally futilt 
and injurioas. Reason demanded acquicS' 
cence ; and she would make no compact 
with loclination for the honotirs which Deity 
had chattered lo her sway. 

The novel mode of thought opened by 
Kant is not only distinguished by its con, 
templative depth, and the strange menta 
world which it opens to the disciple, but for 
its immense progeny of notions, now become 
inalienably connected with all metaphysica! 
theories. How many use witli fluency and 
itistinclive refinement of diction, the catego. 
ries of auiject and object, without once re- 
flecting that Kant, in his criticism on Reason, 
first moulded those notions by a slow and 
persevering process into that philosophical 
profundity which has since rendered their 
(^>plication general and practical. Ind< 
every existing mode of thought is thoroughly 
tinctured with the categories of Kant, — ' '- 
mention the various theories 

based upon his system. Nor can we, by 
any possihility, travel out of his sphere. We 

now endeavour to sketch, as briefly 
and clearly as possible, the outlines of that 
powerful system which has wrought so great 
a revolution in modern philosophy. 

The doctrine of Kant is laeallsm ; and, 
it common, but transcendental Idealism. 
The diflercnce between the two is this— 
Common Idealism considers the whole ex. 
isting world as deception and shadow ; and 
admits not the existence of objects in them, 
selves, but only of the notions which we 
entertain concerning ;hem. Tratiscendental 
Idealism, on the other hand, allows the exist- 
ence of an external universe, but denies ihat 
we know it as it really is. It permits us 
only to be conversant with those apparitioiu 
of Nature which rise before our perceptive 
or cognitive faculties. Common Idealism 
never deals with the outward world as a 
result, but with its constituting qualities; 
while the transcendental is I only denies a per- 
fect correspondence between objects them- 
selves and the virtues which simple and un- 
critical consciousness supposes in them. 
Thus simple Consciousness considers that 
all which comes in contact with sensible 
perception ; such as colour, form, continua- 
tion of parts, their connection, &c. ; are con- 
tained m the object itself and constitute its 
real substance — while Transcendental Ideal- 
ism discerns in the object the mere reflection 
of the cognitive Power in Man, which en- 
graves upon the surfiice of sensible nature 
the impression of an innate law, resident in 
human existence. With the transcendental 
philosopher, the whole of the material world 
rests between two inscrutable points, as its 
two poles — between the objects themselves, 
on the one side, and the power of Cognition 
on the other. These two extreme polar 
points — absolute oijeet and absolute subject 
— have undergone flirther investigation by 
Kant's successors. According to his theo- 
ry, however. Object and Subject form the 
boundaries of both Theory and Experiment. 
All the notions which wc form of objects 
— all the qualities which we attribute to 
them — are oerived either from the impres- 
sion of eilernal Nature on the Senses, or 
from the innate forms which dwell in human 
perceplion. All we really know, iherefore, 
of outward objects is, that they are ; but 
WHAT they are, remains, according to Kani, 
a perfect mystery. With the same mystery 
he likewise shrouds the true character of 
the pure subject in man, since its existence 
is real, and it may be contemplated as an 
object by itself. All the proper qualities 
which the subject discovers in itself, to wit, 
the faculties of thought, feeling, desire, &c.. 
only indicate pabts of the innate experience 
and conceptions of which it is capable. Thus 



The Pitihaophji of Kant. 

our real knowledge ofthe subject ia bounded 
by its existeoce — we are ignorant of ita ■b- 
solute eascQce. On tho other hand, the 
munirold fobjsh of our perception, (which 
perception may be termed the eye of the 
subject,) and the objects of the outward 
world, Kant admits to be perfectly intelligi- 
' ble and fully developed. He divides Forma 
into two classes ; the one he diatinguiahes as 
d priori, the other as i pogleriori. By the 
fornier he uudersianda all thit ia necessarily 
coDtained in our iulellect, apart from expe- 
rience. The latter, on the contrary, signifies 
with him, every thing that is deduced from 
the exhibition of facts. 

The d, priori class is of a twofold charac- 
ter. It comprises forma by which we behold 
and view, and forms by which wo deliberate 
and judge. Of the former kind are space 
and Tim. together with all that we know in 
and by them ; viz. the three dimeosious, ns 
the properties of space; the mathematical 
figures, as its possible divisions and sections; 
the arithmetical progressions, which originate 
in the ascent and descent in the sphere of 
Time, with all the various forms of locomo- 
tion, as changes of time manifealed in Space. 
The body of these Forms of views, so jar as 
they have been asoertained by Science, pre- 
sents to us an infinite field of endlsM and 
varied manifestations, in which all the phe- 
nomena, by a law of necessity, appear under 
the one or other aspect 

Id proponion as the phenomena appeal 
engraflea on those Forma, we judge of 
ihem as, in a greater or lass degree, objects 
of experience. The relations which we 
discover between the phenomena and the A 
priori forms of Time and Space, constitute 
the substance or nature of our judgment on 
matters of experience. In order, however, to 
render the judcment complete, we must add 
to it the second class of forms d priori. 

The forms of judgment fall under four 
Rubrics. We make, imprimis, either one 
thing, several things, or all things, — the ob- 
ject of inquiry and adjudication. The form 
which comprises that process, Kant terms 
The Cateookjes of Quantity. Our rea- 
son then proceeds to emnt or deny a certain 
predicate to a certain objecL The form 
comprising this process Kant calls Tbe Cat- 
£Goai£S OF Quality. But as in attempting 
to judge of an object wA are compelled to 
contemplate the qualities with which we are 
about to invest it, a third form ensues, which 
consists in the relation of the Substance to 
ita accidents. Two conclusions or judgments 
may likewise be so combined that one may 
be the accident of the other. Thus in say- 
ing, when the sun dies it becomes day, be- 
coming day is the accident or effect of the 


Rising Sun. "The forms of judgment, of 
substance and accident, of cause and effect, 
Kant distinguiahes by the common title Thb 
Categories of Relation. 

The fourth form consists in our positive or 
negative conclusiona with respect to the ob- 
jects of judgment. A fact or thing attains 
its highest degree of certainty by proof that 
difference or contrariety are, with relation to 
itaelf, impossible. Certainty (hen becomes 
the exhibition of Necessity. Kant designates 
the forms of necessily, possibility, and certain- 
ty, by the term Catxgokies of MoDALnr. 
Thus concludes the second branch of & pri- 
ori forms in their most essential bearing. 

Our knowledge is the result of a concur- 
rent operation in both divisions of the h pri- 
ori ; viz. the forma by which we behold, and 
those by which we judge. Every form of 
judgment has its peculiar mode of operation 
in the field of viewing and beholding. Thus 
if we perceive therein a regular order of 
successive and similar phenomena ; such as, 
the sound which ensues every lime we strike 
upon a glass ; the freezing of water when- 
ever the cold has attained a certain degree ; 
the display of colours whenever the sua 
shines ; — we are then conversant with those 
phenomena which give riae to the categories 
of Cause and Effect. On the contrary, a 
regular order of succession in a varying ob- 
ject, — such succession, for instance, as may 
be discerned in water changing from conge- 
lation into fluid, then into vapour or steam ; 
— the converse process ; — the moon's full 
aspect changing mlo the crescent form ;— ~ 
childhood, aa one mode of humanity, giving 
way to senility as another ; — the senses, vigi- 
lant during the day, surrendering themselves 
to sleep m the night ; — such order of suc- 
cession gives rise to Tbe Cateoohibs of 
Substance and Accident. The changing 
states we term Accidents, and the object in 
which the mutation is wrought we call Sub- 

The knowledge of things is, with Ksnt, 
the result of an extremely artificial machine. 
The wheels do indeed revolve by, and with- 
in, each other, and by their complicated ac. 
lion the science is, so lo soy, properly man. 
ufactured. All things which we lawn hav« 
previously undergone the process requisite 
recognition : — in fact, to know a thing, is 
nply lo invest it with the results of ine k 
:ori operations in connection with it. We 
are ignorant of the rate material of the ob. 
ject:). Thus, the metaphysics of Kant re. 
fuse us a view into the super-sensual empire 
of things as they really are. The suapicion 
which has been of\en entertained that the 
deceptive and chimerical are inseparable 
from the mere realm of sense, is much Smt 

The PhUotofhg of Kant. 


lered by the doctrines of the philosopher 
uoder considerattoa. His tenets, on the oth- 
er hand, friistrala our hopes of arriving at 
the knowledge of things by reflection and 
reasoning conoerning nature and the uni- 

We have now arrived ftt that stage in 
Kanl'a system where perfect darkness veils 
from our view the nature of the external 
world. It is in vain ihat the soul in accents 
by turns commanding, eiposlulatory, and 
persuasive, inlerrMotea Nature of her Se- 
cret. All is still as llie grave ; and the opaque 
atmosphere arrests even the voice of Echo. 

But although the mind pauses in bewilder- 
ment before the mystery which rests on the 
ephere of outward inquiry, it discovers when 
it returns within itself a system of wonder- 
flil consolation in the resolution of the wili.. 
Inspired hy divine consciousness, it no long- 
er carries study and investigation into the 
region of natural phenomena, but fortifii 
itself with ^tera determination — in (he 
sphere where it recbites instead of discoT' 
Kxs — to believe in, and hope for, all the 
lilcssingB to which man is fairly entitled 
when ho conscientiously practisea the Moral 
Law uttered by our Practical Reason, 

The resolution to consider oneself 
member of a spiritual world extending far 
beyond (he limits of this life, is identical 
with the delertniaation lo take the moral law 
as the standard for our conduct. For that 
law commands us lo act in a way becoming 
members of a higher sphere; and it is im- 
possiblo to practice it without fully believing 
It. Our RESOLUTION thus becomes identified 
with our belief, and shares all its fruits and 

No sooner do we believe in the existence 
of a spiritual world, and resolve 
becomes its members, than we acknowledge 
ourselves creatures belonging to two spheres, 
and arrive at the position from which Kant 
himself acted, thought, and lived. 

The proud consciousness (hat we, though 
linked lo a low nature by the & priori forms 
of both spheres, transcend in the majesty of 
an individual being', and in the loftiness of 
our destiny, (he entire aggregate of tlie ma- 
terial universe; and that we are permitted 
even from our low position an insight into 
(he glorious future ; this consciousness pours 
balm into the soul, and causes it to forget the 
toils of iho way in (he prospeclive of its 

Kant's own life bears witness that he fully 
felt the truth of his theory. He never foi 
a moment quitted his native place, Konlgs- 
berg. He was born in 1724, the year of 
Klopstock's nativity. His parents were poor 
but respectable persons, of Scottish cxlrac- 


a. His whole life was as a smooth river 

which the image of the Heavens rested 
in undisturbed entirety. His existence was 
one of perpetual thought and contemplatioD 
He was appointed Professor Ordinartus in 
the year 1770, when he published his Latin 
treatise "De mundi sensibilis atquc tntelligi. 
hilis formft et principiis," in which he for the. 
first time revealed the ideas afterwards fully 
developed in his criticism on pure reason. 
This treatise was a sealed book to the public 
in general, on account of the dead language 
in which it was written and the strict mathe- 
matical form in which it was couched. Sev. 
enteen years of comparative neglect rolled 
over bis serene and thoughtful existence. In 
1787 he published his celebrated work, the 
Criticism on Pure Reason. This, however, 
did not bring him into public notice until 
1792, after he had been for five years ex- 
posed to the polemic attacks of the learned 
of ail countries. At that time Kant was in 
his sixty-eighth year — he had published, how- 
ever, when only twenty-two, a treatise in 
which we fully discover the fandamental idea 
expressed in his great work given to the 
world nearly half a century afterwardi. In 
the treatise referred lo, young Kant under- 
took nothing less than a philosophical expe- 
dition against Leibnitz, Des Cartes, Benea. 
li, and many other celebrated writers of the 
day, and set himself up as an umpire to de- 
cide the controversies which were (hen car- 
ried on wt(h great zeal between the schools 
of Leibnitz and Des Cartes. 

The treatise, as it did not espouse the 
opinions of either school, remained wholly 
unnoticed. Kant bore this neglect with the 
greatest equanimity. So entirely had he 
realized the truth thai prompted his asser. 
(ions, ihai it had become an element in his 
existence. His Being was Iho world in 
which his philosophy made triumphant pro- 
gress day t>y day : his views were too much 
associated with reality to be afiecled by the 
patronage or the dissent of the Public. 

The thinking world was at that time di. 
vided between two opposite systems, the 
Dogmatism of Wolf and the Sensualism (or 
sensuous system) of Locke. The gigantic 
mind of Knot bad ocou pied itself with equal 
force and influence in iho investigation of 
both systems. As public teacher of logic 
and metaphysics he was compelled to take 
Wolf OB his textbook; nevertheless he in- 
troduced into his lectures his own indepen- 
dent remarks, which threw doubts on several 
dogmatic doctrines of Leibnitz. On the 
other hand, in his work on Pure Reason, 
Kant started from the text-book of Locke, 
and had to defend inch by inch the element- 
ary axioms of Dogmatism, which in hia lee 


TV Phibuph^ of KanL 


lurea, previously delirered, he bad taken for 
granted. Kant thus found himself between 
the fires of the contending parties ; and vith 
what almost suppmaiurar power of genius 
and grasp of thought he contrived to brave 
the perils of that emergency, it shall be our 
task to develope in the following pages. 

Wolf found in the radical principles of 
reason the fuadameDtal laws of ihe outward 
world, inasmuch as the relations of substance 
and acMsideni, cause and efiect, possibility, j 
&c. form alike the elementary conditions of 
our reason, and of all that exists around us. 
Wolf therefore asserted ihat the only reality 
in an object was what fell within the scope 
of our perceptions ; while the activity of our 
senses, or whatever forms the condition of 
our individuality, he considered as accidents 
of the SUBSTANCES,— the general manilbsla- 
lions of our reason. 

Kant, however, only admitted ihe first pari 
of the axiom of Wolf, without grentb^ the 
conclosion to be correct. Besides enter- 
taioing many doubts aa to the necessity of 
the inference drawn by Wolf, he even sus- 
pected that it involved a contradiction, as 
our notions indicate possibilitiea rather than 
realities, and if Wolf 's assertion, that indi- 
vidual existence is the accident of notions, 
were correct, it would follow that reality is 
the accident of possibility, a supposition ah. 
Bolutely absurd. 

When Kant afterwards resolved to base, 
with Locke and Hume, his philosophy upon 
the ground of Experience, the case became 
entirely reversed. The conclusion of Wolf's 
assertion was easily established, while the 
^trs^ part fell to the ground. In this result 
Kant was most unwilling to acquiesce, and in 
escaping from it he was compelled lo prove 
by argument that the fundamental laws in 
the outward world are identified with the 
primary perceptions of our reason ; or in 
other words, that the elementary laws of the 
sensible sphere appertain, as essential attri- 
butes, lo our reason. 

The complicated labour of reconciling 
systems so extreme as those of Wolf nnd 
Hume involved him in difficulties " 

points, and 

1 no marvel that the whole 

of bis lifo WQS a continual devotion lo one 
arduous task. Wolf derived all philoio. 
phic knowledge from pure reason, while 
Hume deduced it from the experience of 
the senses. Kant, in starting from Hume's 
system, undertook lo demonstrate, k posteri. 
ori, nil ,thc axioms of Woll. 

Among the same axioms, that of the in- 
telligible world, — or a world of noumena 
in opposition to the world of phenoTiiena, — 
occupies a nrominent place. This we 
shall now endeavour to illustrate. 


Leibnitz, and with him Wolf, hadmain. 
talned that mair is a being living in two 
opposite spheres, — in a physieal sphere 
known to him by ttie experience of his 
senses, and in a spiritual sphere known to 
him by the operations of his pure reason. 
Kant wai upon the whole penetrated with 
the truth of this opinion. It formed in &ct 
the very essence of his own philosophy, but 
he was compelled after all lo urge many 
doubts azainst part of the assertion. He 
aAerwarus proved, in his Criticism on Pure 
Reason, under the head " anlinomiet," that 
there is nothing beyond the limiis of Expe- 
rience which can serve as a louch-.ttone for 
the correctness of our thoughts. Nor did 
he find in the knowledge which psychology 
afibrds us, with the aid of experieoce, 
snfHcienl evidence to substantiate lbs life 
of human nature in two distinct worlds. 
Being however morallt convinced of iba 
truth of that assumption, Kant had recourse 
to the moral postulates to uphold and affirm 
il. He thus opposed to etflpirtc conscious- 
ness one of a higher character. He con- 
fronted, if we may so say, the obstinate 
silence or apparent opposition of Sense with 
the direct affirmations of Spirit. Find, 
ing that outward nature, and even specula- 
tive thought, were unable to confirm him in 
a conception which haunted him as il were 
instinctively, be determined to accept it ia 
all its vitality as the result of moral neces- 
sity. This implicit evidence in the decla- 
Irations of conscience forces the soul lo ac- 
knowledge her own will, and points out lo 
her the means of avoiding scientific allure- 
ments. It, demands of iho soul that she 
shall give audience to no philosophy save 
that which is of an intuitive character, and 
never surrender the faculties to Invesliga- 
lions solely in the field o( sense ; that by 
such discipline we may from time to time 
find it possible to divest ourselves of out- 
ward impressions and propensities. 

Kant's phihsophy, which has not only 
abolished all previous systems, but, as we 
before intimated, has interwoven itself with 
all subiequcnt theories, ia dislinguished by 
three reforms ; In the method of knowledgei 
the deductions of belief, and the notions 
concerning the moral law. 

The task of the subsequent modem sys- 
tems, nnd more especially that of Hegel, 
the most fashionable of the day, consists 
merely in bridging over the immense chasm 
that exists between Kant's modern school 
and Wolf's ancient school ; to the eod that 
the old scholastic views might be trans- 
ferred with greuter facility and security to 
the new system. 

TheHrst reform of Kant was, we.said, in 

The PJdbtofh) of Sunt. 


t^e Method of Knowlsdc'e. Before bis 
time pbiloaophT was witHnetd front aasum- 
ine ibe rank of absolute science. Instead 
of^keepiog strictly to positive knowledge, 
■he claimed it with respen to things of 
which she Eiited to prove even the existence. 
Thns in amalgamating perfect with imper- 
fect knowledge, she became suspected of 
vain and speculative presumption, based on 
hypothesis alone. Kant, however, under- 
took to banish from the philosophic sphere 
all notions uninvested with the character of 
positive and demonstrative knowledge. Hi 
disposed, one by one, of those subjects of 
contention which had continually given rise 
to controversy, and which were involved in 
the oppoflition then believed toexistbetween 
Dogmatism and Scepticism. Before him 
the philosophers conceived themselves 
compelled to enlist uader the banners of one 
of these. The dogmatists who reduced all 
philosophic knowledge to one principle, 
assacedly could not admit the opinions of the 
Sceptics, who doubted of the certainty and 
positiveness of philosophic knowledge in ge- 
neral : but the system of Kaut, which drew a 
line of demarkation between positive and un- 
certain knowledge, easily reconciled both 

The second subject of contention which 
Kant removed by his reform in the method 
of knowledge wss, the opposition thai 
existed between Intellectuality and Sensual- 
ism, or Sensuousness, According to Kant, 
all knowledge, though it begins its opera- 
tions with sensaal experience, nevertheless 
does not flow therefrom, since ihe facts 
themselves are conceived and properly 
arranged by innate and i priori perceptions 
or categories of pure reason. Bui the par. 
ticulnr exhibition of those facts depnndi 
upon the situation, position, and form of 
the sensual vessels which become recipient 
of innate contemplation. 

By tbis method Kant proved himself the 
umpire between Sensuality and Inielleci, and 
eflected a tasting peace beiween the contend- 
ing parties. Until his time, ever since ihat 
of Des Cartes, it had been ihc subji^ct of 
bitter dispnic, whether philosophical know- 
ledge or conceptions were, as according lo 
the sensualists, derived from pure experience, 
or, as according to the inlellectualiats, from 
pure reason. Kant has shown the fallacy 
of both opinions by demonstrating ihal all 
phenomenal knowledge must arise from the 
co-operation of the outward and theinwa ' 
An intellect that loses sight of experior 
has no object on which lo act. The obji 
which experience presents cannot truly be 
said to oxist, until loleliect with its combin. 


ing and arranging power commences its op. 
erations upon them. 

The third subject of controversy which 
Kant disposed of by his reform in the 
method of philosophical knowledge, was the 
speculative theology in vogue from the 
scholastic times, and which had found an 
advocate even i;i Wolf. Here Kant did not 
attempt a reconciliation, but extirpated the 
very root of the evil. He it was who en- 
tirely annihilated that learned monster 
against which many other philosophers had 
previously contended with more zeal than 
success. Speculative theology deduces its 
doctrines concerning God, the creation of 
the world, the character of the soul and its 
future slate, from notions of pure reason - 
alone. This ridiculous system had infect- 
ed even the matter-of-fact Locke, who, 
though starting from the principle that all 
knowledge is derived from experience, ex- 
tended his categories of reason, drawn as 
he supposed from mere experience, far be. 
yond the boundaries of all experience, and 
concocted arbitrary postulates with regard 
to eternal matter, creation, and the Deity. 
Kant however terminated the phantasy ; 
and this leads us st once to tbe second re- 
form, which he wrought In Belief. 

The subjects of belief or faith, vix. God 
and immortality, are far beyond the 
reach of human knowledge. Belief does 
not rest on any soil of knowledge or per- 
ceptioD, but solely on moral resolution of a 
peculiar character. Belief is always and 
necessarily associated with a change in 
mental disposition- Nay it is even identi- 
fied whh that psychical tendency which 
attracts man from his earthly exertions, and 
worldly interests, to the serious accomplish- 
ment of the moral law. With the disajy- 
pcarance of that tendency, belief vanishes 
also, and with the return of the mental dis> 
position, belief also returns. He who per- 
severes in the fulfilment of the moral law is 
a believer, since beliefis none other than the 
operation of that law. The identity be- 
tween a necessary direction of the will by 
the moral law on the one hand, and belief 
on the other, may ho illustrated in the fol- 
lowing simple manner. 

Tbe moral law, which commands us to 
act uprightly, and which is inherent in every 
human being, requires implicit and uneicep- 
lionable submission. Man will find no 
difHculty in obedience, if he associates with 
it the idea of utility, and sees that compli- 
ance with that taw is conducive to welfaret 
honour, or fortune; inward or outward com- 
fort; internal or external perfection. For 
virtue ond happiness are ideas which bear 

Digitized byGoOgIc 



tbe relation of cause and effect to each 
other in the innate judgment of our practi- 
cal reason. Thus, whenever the moral law 
is apprehended as the source of happiness, 
there is little difficulty in obedience to the 
former. The connection, however, between 
virtue and happiness is cot always perceived 
to exist : on tbe contrary, there are cases in 
which actions that seem to deserve tbe 
highest reward, yet apparently conduce 
only lo misery, or even aeath. In such in- 
stances the moral commandment frequenily 
appears absurd, and he who resolves 
implicitly to obey it, is considered by the 
multitude little belter ihan insane. With 
many the acknowledgment of the moral 
law is limited by the beneficial contequeu- 
ces which result from It in the outward 
world. Such a slate will never cease while 
we expect as the reward of obedience to the 
moral law tbe generation of circumstances 
externally favourable. Tliat law proposes 
no recompense during the period of (rial. 
It does not contemplate man as a mere 
mimic warrior svhoae battle with Circum- 
stance is to be fought by other agency (ban 
his own. He is not destined to combat by 
proxy, and lo be rewarded in person ; but 
Conscience is to animate him, Hope to sus- 
tain him, Immortalily to repay him. It is 
in the appreciation of these truths — in ihe 
realization of the *' hereaAer world" that he 
finds it easy to render to the moral li 
conformity which under other circumstances 

The belief in God and im.nortality 
thus transformed by Kant from a matter of 
demonstration into a matteiof moral retoln- 
tion. The system of Kant, therefore, more 
than any other, approximates in this parti- 
cular to positive religion ; which, command- 
ing us lo believe even without seeing, could 
never allow attempts al metaphysical 
demonstration to supply the place of moral 
resolution. The system o( Kant with 
gard to religion has also a close connection 
with the primitive patriarchal faith, which 
was characterized by personal communion 
with Ood. Kant in this particular stands 
almost alone ; tho great body of modern 
creeds having substituted communion with 
the symbols of Deity for peraonal inter, 
course with himself. 

The third reform which Kant wrought 
was in relation to the Moral Law, The 
teachers of moral philosophy before 
had a.sserled with some plausibility that 
much might be done in the field of morals 
by the principlesof desire of good, pursuit of 
perfection, and social comfort ; all of which 
were deduced from Experience, Kant, 
endeavouring to establish morality as an 


■tract object beyotid the reach of motivw 
drawn from Experience, announced the re< 
quisition of the law in ihe following terma : 
"Act as if you would have iock conduct the 
standard for ihal of all men," 

Moral law must not, however, be con- 
founded with moral instinct or moral sense, 
because tbe active power of the first is as 
sociated with moral dignity, and prohibits 
our inclinations from testing the value of 
our actions. Kant duly felt tbe valuo of 
'islinguishing rational judgment from de< 
ire, enthusiasm, aversion and fear. Ha 
therefore properly designated his task aa " a 
chemical process of decomposition." By 
the simple process of applying our individu- 
al instinct to the state ol Society at large, 
the alloy of that instinct is dissolved, and 
naught remains of it save what accords with 


In entering deeply into the spirit of Kant's, 
system, involving as it does a machinery 
extensive and complicated aa it is profound 
and ingenious, we cannot restrain the excla- 
mation, " Here is indeed a new Socrales !" 
Kant, like Socrales, gave to philosophy th« 
^a!ue and certainty of a practical character 
— Kant, like Socrales, waged war against 
lophialry, and abolished the metaphysical 
illusions of his time — Kant, like Socrates, 
eSected a perfect revolution in the field of 
thought, opposed the simple to the artificial, 
and positive realities to far-fetched specula- 
tions — Kant, like Socrales, won pbiiosophv 
from the clouds to the earth, from ihestena- 
ard of theoretical investigation to that of 
practical belief— like Socrates he was hostile 
to Rhetoric, M calculated to allure and mia- 
lead, though he himself was a master in the 
art of connecting and analysing lexical 
subtleties. There i^, however, another simi- 
larity between theBe great men. Neither of 
them pretended to form a new school by a 
compleiesystem of their own. Both of them, 
on the contrary, declared explicitly to the 
last, thai their philosophies were progress- 
ive in point of theory, and at a great distance 
from perfection. On ihe other band, both 
declared the practical certainly of the law 
respecting all that is good, and the connec- 
tion chat exists between the soul and Deity 
to be dogmatically Irue, Kant considered 
his Criticism on Pure Reason as a mere 
preliminary study to afulure system of meta- 
physics; nor did Socrates disdain to resume 
investigation in every new dialogue, for the 
purpose of ascertaining whether another 
way leading to the Supreme Being migbt 
not be discovered. The lives of both Kant 
and Socrates were devoted to tbe analysis of 
all previous systems; Socrates examined « 
those of Parmenides, Zeno, Heraclea, and 

h I, V^.OCM^Ie 


The Philosophy oj Kant. 


the sophisu ; while Kant put to the lest of 
criticism those of Leibnitz, Wolf, Locke, 
Hume, and ihe French philosophers of the 
last century, at ihe head of whom was Vol- 
taire. Kant would hardly have been slimu- 
lated to the pTOfound and spirited defence of 
bis own system by those doctrines of Wolf 
which the philosopher of pure reason had 
once taught in his capacity of public profes- 

Bui be was assailed by a hundred diSet- 
enl and conflictiog Toices. The German, 
like the Greek, was destined to contend with 
the subtle theorists of the time. Helvetius, 
Condillac, La Meitrie, Maupertuis, Robinet, 
and Rousseau, formed the Dand of modern 
sophists whom Kant had to encounter. 
There is indeed an slriking a similarity be- 
tween the situation, plan, purpose, and doc- 
trine of the two great men whose characters 
we have compared, that we are induced lo 
elucidate a little more fblly the history of 

Until Socrates the ancient pbitosopbera 
were constantly engaged in attempts to sepa- 
rate the conception of a thing from the thing 
itself; to form as the result of their system 
an abstract mode of thought, and to elevate 
mankind from the kingdom of sensuous 
phenomena into that of unmixed idtali&m. 
This process, which appears so easy to us 
moderns, was found difficult of accomplish- 
ment in the time (0 which we refer; so much 
BO, that it was reserved for the powerful 
genius of Aristotle alone to consolidate and 
arrange systematically the common laws 
essential to abstract thought, judgment and 
inference. Simple logical conclusions which 
are with us so lucid as to be in the mouths 
of children, wore in ancient limes the ap- 
pearance of enigma and paradox. Thus we 
at present find no contradiction ia the asser- 
tion, " thai although all nes;ioes are men, yet 
all men are not neeroes ;" qnrieatly, how- 
ever, when the matnemalical equations were 
more known than the logical, the preceding 
assertion was comprehended in the sense of 
a mathematical equation, and the result wi 
since Negro-=Man, it necessarily follow 
Man= Negro. 

The foregoing proposition, and others of 
a similar character, were considered in the 
time of Socrates much in the same nnanner 
as we now regard the antinomies and para- 
logisms contained in Kant's doctrine otpure 
reason at the present day. Such a theory 
as his, which supposes familiarity with at 
liiasl the laws of abstraction, was utterly im- 
possible in ancient limes when logic was yet 
m its infancy. We may therefore refrain 
from wondering that Socrates had dovised 
s for limiting the use of abstract 

notions in connection with all that is divinO) 
and that he on the contrary much recom- 
mended their free use; a line of conduct 
greatly deprecated by Kant. Socrates, and 
aficrhim Plato, had, however, too much sci- 
entific intuition to be misled by the liberty 
which they allowed to others. 

With regard to the practical part of their 
philosophy there is this difierence between 
Socrates and Kant, that the former as a 
teacher of unprecedented moral doctrines 
was compelled to explain and illuatrale ihero 
by his own actions, both public and private; 
ivhile Kant had nothing to do hut direct 
public attention to that law, for obedience lo 
which a thousand martyrs had perished. 
The Greeks were a young people, princi- 
pally characterized by their emulative spirit. 
Their Olympic games were typical of their 
uniform disposition. The continuance of 
their best citizens in the paths of sobriety, 
moderation and justice, was rather the result 
of competition than of any higher motive. 
Thus with their philosophical theories, gym- 
nastic exercises were introduced in the pub- 
lic arena, and made the theme of public dis- 
cuiision. The ancient philosopher was 
obliged in a great measure lo elucidate his 
creed by his life; but in our own days, in 
consequence of (he general development of 
perception, mental doctrines need no sensu- 
ous interpretation ; and theories which eflect 
the greatest mutations in society may owe 
their parentage to men who never leave the 
quiet of the cell or the seclusion of the her- 
mitage for personal intercourse with man- 

We may anticipate that Kunl's philosophy 
will exercise on Ihe future development of 
science, an influence analogous to that exert- 
ed by Socrates at an earlier period. The 
fruit it has already borne during the brief in- 
terval which has elapsed since his death jus- 
tifies us in this expectation. As in the days 
of antiquity Socrates brought forward a sys- 
tem entirely novel for llie development of 
ideas, and one which nevertheless revived in 
some degree the preceding doctrines of Pur- 
menides, Pythagoras, Heracles, and Demo- 
critus, so did the theory of Kant, though in 
itself perfectly original, re-introduce to man- 
kind the doctrines of Spinoza, Leibnitz, 
Plato, and Jacob Bohme. Indeed It is the 
noble prerogative of genius to discern the 
truth that oxlsts in all creeds, how much so- 
ever they may difTfr from each other. The 
wise architect does not reject the Doric order 
or ihe Ionic order in favour of the Corinthian, 
bul he finds in each class an adaptation to a 
particular portion of the edifice. The frag- 
mentary and diverse specimens of the \'ariou3 
philosophic orders Kant has eomlMiied to- 

The Pkilotopkf of Kant. 


gether with llie- judgment of a sage, anil with 
the taste of un artist ; and has constructed 
for us D mental temple accordant with the 
simple but imposing solemnity of 
inherent in the breasts of devout and earnest 

Tbo theory of Leibnilz as to a auperna. 
tural intellectual world has been embodied 
in Kent's system, as that stale of reason 
wherein we spiritually live, while as physical 
beings wo belong to the realms of space and 
time. This theory is moreover recognized 
by Hegel, who asserts " that the kingdom of 
God is realized in the history of the world." 

The spirit of Spinoaia is exhibited by Kaut, 
who laboured to found a strict metapbyaical 
system upon pure notions ; and he may in 
this reepecl be associated with Schelling, 
who considered the various appearances of 
nature as so many difTerent aspects of mental 

The attempt of Locke to bring the imagi- 
nation under the control of experience is, in 
HO far OS valuable, wrought out successfully by 
Kant, who separated and distinguished the 
elements of knowledge into classes material 
and spiritual. This doctrine is indicated in 
the Psychology of Herbart and Benek, which 
subjecia the attractive and repulsive powers 
of ths imagination to a demonstrative or- 

The dialectics of Plato, which treat with 
wonderful ingenuity of the contradictions and 
labyriDths in the ideal world, arc reflected in 
Kant's doctrine of the Antinomies and Para- 
logisms ; wherein he shows how blind and 
powerless is reason out of her proper sphere. 
As to this, Kant's influence may be traced in 
the attempt of Hegel to reconcile the difh- 
cuities contained in the Antinomies, and in 
the endeavour of Herbart to correct them. 

The construction of nature by Des Cartes, 
who said " give me eslension and motion, 
and I will create nature," is reprciiented in 
Kant as a physical Dynahic from the at. 
tractive and repulsive powers, and is assent- 
ed to in the philosophy of Oken, who proves 
the net of self. consciousness to be the same 
in tho simple form of the atom, and in the 
organization of the thinking brain. 

The doctrines of Grotius and Hobbes Kant 
involves in his idea of natural right, which 
he has developed in theories of stale econo- 
my, and which mep like Hegel and Krause 
held lo be superior even to the ideal of Plato's 

The theological rationalism originated by 
Abetard. and which transfers faith from the 
re:tlm of external authority into that of man's 
inVard conscience, Kant described as a re- 
ligion within the limits of pure reason, where 
faith is generated by the vivid operation of 

VOL. xiiv. 8 

our feelings and sympathies. This doctrine 
has found an able and successful advocate in 

The philosophy of the present day resem- 
bles a vast edifice, which as an entirety is 
beyond the comprehension of the beholder. 
Host of our modern thinkers are familiar 
with but one wing or section. It was for 
Kant to sketch the plan of the whole bui]d> 
ing. Every one atler him has chosen a 
certain department ; one llie categories, ano- 
ther the i priori views, a third the investiga- 
tion of objects, and a fourth the absolute 
subject. Thus the general survey has been 
gradually lost. The knowledge of modern 
philosophers is profound and rich in experi- 
ence, but at the same time limited and par- 
tial ; that of Kant, on the other hand, though 
ubstract and poor in experience, was never- 
theless all-embracing and ideally distinct. 
It is impossible at the present time to be a 
thorough adept in philosophy, without be- 
coming familiar with those principles which 
are developed in Kant's Criticism on Pure 
Reason. Da the other hood, no sooner have 
we mastered that criticism than we discern 
in every page the seeds of all systennsnowin 
vogue amongst mankind. We are, however, 
apt to prefer the harvest to the seed, and 
thus forgetting that they hut reap what Kant 
sowed, the modern schools have actually 
sneered at the imperfect state of his specula- 
tioiia. Fichle is the only man who has ac- 
knowledged his system to be a branch of 
Kant's. It was customary in the school of 
Schelling to look contemptuously on the 
philosopher of Kdnigsberg, while the disci- 
ples of Hegel held the Criticism on Reason ■ 
10 be the emanation of an inferior mind. 
There is, however, some excuse for their 
seventy. The fault chiefly rests with those 
pedantic blockheads who, adhering to Kant'a 
system, and calling their school ver)' impro- 
perly the Kantian, did not advance a single 
step beyond their prototype, although oe 
himself more than once declared that his 
system was far from being complete. Thus 
it happened that the thinliing disciples of 
Kant, who advanced with wonderful rapidity 
in the road pointed out to them by the latter, 
found it better lo disown bis name altogether 
than lo bear it in connection with those im- 
becile travellers who could not proceed a 
step beyond tho spot 10 which they were led. 

In analyzing the wonderful features pecu- 
liar to Kant's philosophy we are primarily 
struck by the elevated and ennobling feelings 
which it awakens. In looking to the moral 
law as that which is to govern our conduct, 
and as the source whence we are to receive 
all communications of i priori acience, we 
become aware of ibe dignity of humncha- i 



TV Op^i Trade mlh China. 


racier, and of tho glory of our ultimate des- 
tiny. The development of laws in the re- 
gioQ of spirit becomes to us as fiiniliar as 
Lboir illustration in the world of matter. 
We ascend to the eminence of a moral ob- 
servatory ; the human soul is tlio firmament 
which we scan, and the immortal faculties 
are those worlds of which we calculate the 
position, tho ascendency, and the eclipse. 

W'c are led, in tho second place, to per. 
ceive that the universal law which reigns 
throughout the spiritual aud material Worlds 
is neither of a physical nor an intellectual, 
but of a moral character. 

Thirdly, wo are induced to acknowledge 
that the most valuable features of ancient 
philosophy have bean retained in the system 
of Kani, and that he bos superadded to them 
those higher qualities and Ibrms of itlustra- 
tioa wherewith Christianity has been endow, 
ed by its author. 

But that which demands our moat particu- 
lar attention and admiration ia, the univer- 
sality of thol mind which found something 
akin to itself in all former systems, how much 
soever at variance with each other ; which 
having collected together the currency of 
previous thoughts, and upon which the stamp 
of greater principles was but partially visible, 
refined them togctlier in the furnace of vir- 
tuous intelligence, amalgamated them into 
harmonious unity, and scaled their homo- 
geneity with the indelible impression of 

Aet.VI.— 1. OnthePreparaliont^Opivm 
far the Chiwt^ Market ; written March, 
1^35. By D. Butler, M. D. Bengal. 

2. The CaraonRegiiter,\m.Q. 

3. The Chinese Repotilory. July, 1836; 
January and March, 1837.* 

Nations in the early stages of civilisation 
are like children in their infancy. They 
have to undergo a course of instruction in 
order to render them in after yeara worthy 
members of society. We take it for granted 
that it is no more possible for a nation than 
for an individual to remain perfectly indc- 

which eiclada the Merchaati of G>r«kt BriUin 
Iram the Advtattgm of n.n anreMticted oommer- 
eiil Intercoune with t!ia.l vui Empire. With 
Eilraoti frum authentie DocamsnU. By the Re- 
vereod A. S. Tfaelw*ll, M. A. Drawn Qp at the 
roqnoit of wveral Q«iitlenien cuoneeted with tlie 
East India Trade. London : Allen and Ce, 1639. 

pendent of others, unless in a slate of com- 
parative barbarism. All advancement in 
knowledge and power, both in the one case 
and the other, is mndo by frequent commu- 
nication and mutual assistance. 

The rules of conduct which ought to re- 
gulate the intoreourae of nations are by no 
means fixed and invariable, but should be 
baaed ujion principles of equity, which are 
supposed to he well understood in all polished 
countries. Among uncultivated people, how- 
ever, the case is different. They neither 
apprccialo the advantages to be derived from 
a friendly intercourse with other nations, or 
can be made to understand the relative posi- 
tion in which they aro placed. It becomes 
therefore a matter of great importance that 
sufficient instruction should be imparted to 
overcome these impediments, and establish 
some maxims on wtuch a system of legisla* 
lion may bo founded. 

In the education of our children we know 
that the system of excessive corporal pun. 
ishment has been proved to have a most 
pernicious tendency, and is uow almost en- 
tirely done away with. Experience teaches 
us thai much mora is ejected towards the 
improvement of morals by practical illustra- 
tion and example, than by ten thousand 
theories and precepts assisted by the cone 
and birch. In the education of nations, on 
the contrary, if wo search the records of 
history, we find the melancholy truth, that in 
the progress of civilisation scarcely any ad- 
vance has been made by just and peaceable 
expedients. Wherever it has been attempt- 
ed to disseminate among semi-barbaroua 
tribes the enlightened notions which distin- 
guish the people of our pan of the world, 
lamentable failures have ensued unless they 
have been backed hy some means of ooer. 
cion or intimidation. Are we then to con- 
clude that a milder course would never be 
efiectual? that man is by pature so depraved, 
BO blind and vitiated, as to require force to 
compel him to attend to his own interests 1 
Or is he in manhood more insusceptible to 
truth, when set forth by fair reasonm^ and 
virtuous examples) than in the penod of 
childhood? We firmly believo not. 

Let us cast the veil of charity over the 
motives and proceedings of our ancestors 
who discovered foreign parts of the globe. 
It is not our intention in this place to point 
out or dwell upon the course which they 
thought proper to pursue in the intercourse 
with the natives of those places. Opinions 
happily are now changed, and those mea- 
sures which were formerly applauded would 
not at the present day be even tolerated. 
" icl ■ 

The views of maokincf are becoming much 
field of Tision 


more enlightened, A larger field o| 

The Opiiun Trade wilh China. 


is exposed, making narrow and selfish feel- 
ing give way to broad and universal princi- 
ples of moral rectitude. Witliout being sus- 
pecied of flattering the times in which we 
live, we may aSirm, that in the present 
philosophical age, when al! our actions and 
even our thoughts are referred to a standard 
of humanity, no political or commercial 
advantages should be sought at (he expense 
of cither the morality or the welfare of (he 
human race. It in, we feel persuaded, quite 
practicable to reconcile our individual inte. 
lests with the general good, and therefore 
no temptation should induce us to be allured 
by the one whenever It clashes with the 

The state of our relations with China fur- 
nishes an ample field for reflection. Here 
we have an instance of a people, estimated at 
more than three hundred millions, and con- 
stituting the largest family of the human 
raco over known to exist, refusing ail inter- 
course with the rest of mankind. They 
have long arrived at the highest slate of 
civilisation that under such circumstances 
they could possibly attain. For centuries 
Ihey have remained aiaiionary, and so would 
they continue for centuries to come, unless 
they received an impetus from a more ad- 
vanced people. Even were the latter only 
on the same level as themselves, the very 
contact would be serviceable, as rough peb- 
bles become polished by rubbing against 
each other. 

Many generations have passed away since 
China has been known lo Europeans, nod 
yet it is surprising what a little advance has 
been made towards overcoming their preju- 
dices. We have made but Hitle progress in 
our connection with them beyond our mere 
comraercial relations ; and though our ma. 
jestic Indiancera are constantly passing and 
repassing between the shores, freighted with 
the richest stores of both countries ; though 
there has long been a yearly interchange of 
commodities, the produce of each other's in- 
dustry, yet we are virtually aa much stran- 
gers to each other as ever. This cannot be 
altogether the fault of the Chinese. 

China has ever been a bone of contention 
with the different powers of Europe. As if 
the title given to it by its inhabitants were 
allowed to be just, and it were really con- 
sidered the Celestial Empire, by the more 
civilized people of the West, it has always 
been sought a(ler with an extraordinary dc' 
gree of zeal and perseverance. Tho extent 
of the dominions of the " Son of Heaven," 
the number of his subjects, or the riches of 
both nature and art, over which he has the 
sway, have probably scarcely ever been 
B^^goted. The advantages likely to re- 

sult from an amicable allloDce with so great 
a power, are not, therefore, few or unimpor- 
tant, and accordingly the greatest efforts 
have been made to secure them. A com- 
mercial treaty more partinularly has been 
desired, on a firm and equitable basis, in 
order to make the wealth of this great coun- 
try available to other slates. It remains lo 
be seen to what causes we are to attribute 
the present ill success, and whether it may 
not he traced altogether lo shortisightecl 
policy and mismanagement. 

On the other hand it deserves attentive 
consideration to determine the peculiar views 
and opinions of that singular people ; and 
the readiest and most equitable method of 
conciliating their confidence and esteem. 

No compulsory measures have been hith- 
erto deemed advisable, and at the present 
day it is doubtful whether they would ha 
expedient. For, notwithstanding the un- 
warlike character of the Chinese, and the 
easy prey they appear to present to the -hand 
of power, they have not of late been molest 
ed, or their territories invaded by any foreiga 
armed force, ll would be absurd to attribute 
this forbearance to a reluctance to invade 
the rights of others, as the grasping system 
has been long adopted in regard to weaker 
nations; nor is it our intention to investt. 
gate, at this moment, the different reasons 
which might be assigned. Certain it is that 
there has been every inclination for such an 
enterprise, but strong as was the temptation, 
it has been over-ruled by motives of pru- 
dence. It has probably been reasoned, and 
we should think with propriety, that the 
project might not turn out so successful as 
had been anticipated — that the Chinese, al- 
though un warlike, were not deficient in 
courage ; ond if properly trained and goaded 
on by injuries would make good soldiers. 
But we helievB that another principal reason 
why an armed interference has not been 
resorted to of late years is, that a sufficient 
pretext has not been afforded. The author- 
ities there have acted with sufficient pru- 
dence in all their dealings with foreign mer- 
chants i BO that however vexatious may have ' 
been their restrictions and annoying their 
language lo the individual parties, they have 
always appeared trivial and unimportant to 
the governments at home, and unworthy of 
serious notice- 
now becomes necessary to analyze ia 
some degree the national peculiarities and 
prejudices of the people of whom we are 
speaking, as affording the readiest means 
of judging of the line of conduct which 
should be adopted. Among the different 
characteristics of the Chinese, the most 
prominent and the roost difficult to be iDan-j 


The OpiuM Trade with China. 


aged is their DQlional vanky. They cer- 
tainly may be coDsidcred llie most sflf-auffi- 
cient people on the face of the globe. 
From ihe lime of Confucius downwards 
they have ranked all foreigners as barbari- 
ans, infinitely inferior to themselves. By 
Ihe modern Christian leg:islalion, the theory 
of the natural equality of mankind is advo- 
cated; but this is absolutely denied by the 
Chinese. Not only do ihey consider strang- 
ers as inferior to themselves, but as abso- 
lutely of another ritce. They look upon 
them as enemies, and frame laws for them 
accordingly. Thetenour of all the Canton 
edicts sufficiently shows that this idea is act- 
ed upon, and that it is, therefore, deemed 
traitorous for any uf (he natives To hold 
more than the allowed communion with 
these inhabitants, as they term them, of 
" kwei.fang, or regions of iha devil." 

Much as we may be tempted lo feel pro- 
voked by these absurd preiensions, feeling 
as we sufficiently do our acknowledged rar' 
in Ihe scale of nations, we ought to bei 
patiently with folly of this kind, when wa 
recollect that others of still greater fame 
than the Chinese have entertained the same 
weakness. Among the enlightened Greeks 
and Romans the same word, ' hos:i3,'em. 
ployed to designate a stranger, also signified 
an enemy ; we have abundant testimony 
prove that these worJs were synonymoi 
Aristotle, one of the most celebrated of 
Grecian philosophers, n^serteil, that " strang- 
ers were slaves by nature, might be con- 
sidered beasLs of chase, and fairly hunied 
down." Of all wars, he thought, with his 
ancestors, " that those wars were most just 
tmd necessnry which were made by men 
asainst wild beasts : and next to them (hose 
which were made by the tirecks against 
strangers ; who," adds the philosopher, 
"are naturally our enemies, and for whom 
we are perpetually laying snares." 

The same author also aays, '' that one of 
the most striking laws of (be Romans is 
that by which, instead of considering every 
man as a fellow creature, between whom and 
Uiemselves there was an implied alliance, 
he was deemed a being to whom they w^rc 
absolutely indifferent, and with whom there 
was hardly any more connection than with the 
boasts of the earth."* The Mussulman 
also is not backward in terms of opprobrium, 
and it sigoiSes little by what term the in- 
ieriority is designated, whether of Chrinun 
dog, Greek Barbaroi, or Chinae red-bris- 
tled devii, but the same inferiority is assert- 
ed. This prejudice is doubtless founded 
upon ignorance, and however much we may 

• Ward, vol. u. p. 173. 

deplore its existence in others, we have-no 
reason to congratulate ourselves upon our 
total exemption from its influence. It cer- 
tainly argues no great superabundance of 
liberality on our part, when such terms as 
" snubnosed savage," " petticoated, long- 
nailed, tuft -bearing barbarians" appear in 
our leading journals applied to the emperor 
and people of China. 

Another leading feature, and the only one 
which at present wo deem necessary to 
mention, and which grows out of the pre- 
judices before alluded to, is the domineering 
insolence which causes the Chinese con- 
stantly lo attempt imposition. This is the 
more annoying as it is always accompanied 
with sympioms of great pusillanimity when- 
ever a proper degree of firmness is op- 
posed to it. This mixture of assumption 
and imperlinency, of swagger and coward- 
ice, is extremely contemptible, and draws 
largely upon the patience of those who 
have any dealing with them and are of a 
different temperament. 

These two leading points of character 
being fairly established, the line of conduct 
which should be pursued in all our inter- 
course with tho Chinese must be evident. 
On the one hand, we should endeavour lo 
elevate our character as much as possible 
in their eyes by a course of upright, inde- 
pendent, and cnncilialory behaviour, Co gain 
their eslicm ; on the other, we should force 
respect by extreme firmness and a steadfast 
determinafion never to submit to the slight- 
est indigntly. By these means we should 
overcome rapidly their prejudices, and quick- 
ly stand 01) a much better footing. Has the 
conduct of foreigners always been in ac- 
cordance with these principles? most cer- 
tainly not : but when it has, the most bene* 
ficial eifecls liave been apparent. 

In the snnals of the Chinese, we find the 
earliest accounts of foreigners recorded in 
the histories of pirates, or contained as use. 
'jrmation in the hsts of tributaries lo 
pirc. This is lo bo accounted for from 
the fact (hot in the earliest periods of inter- 
course, the right of conquest was sanctified 
by the churrh. All pagan nations were con- 
sidered fsir prey, and that it was not only jus- 
tifiable but even meritorious to oppress and 
plunder them. Adventurers of ail countries 
behaved in the most reckless manner in all 
parts of Eastern Asia, and being far away 
from any ccntrol from their governments at 
home, and guided alone by their own grasp- 
ing and violent propensities, they insulted and 
ill. treated the natives at their pleasure. Aa 
the Chinese ha«e,fromlheirowo experience, 
II salutary dread of pirates, llicy naturally 
" ,nkcd ilieso strangers among the number. 


The Opam Jh^ade mlh China. 

aacl tried by every means in their power to 
keep them from their shores. 

When it was found that the nations were 
too united aod the government too powerful 
to nilow the system of depredation to be sue. 
cessful, alt^mpls were made by the diflbrent 
states to monopolize rhe trade with China. 
For ihis purpose each endeavoured to de. 
grade the character of his rivals in the eyes 
of the authorities ; and thus . in turn the 
Dutchman, the Portuguese, the Euglidhman, 

s committed by despera- 
does on the coast laid to his charge. Each 
nation was represented by its competitor as 
composed of outlaws and vagabonds, with 
whom no mercantile transactions could be 
conducted with honour or safety. Thus the 
earliest intercourse of foreigners with the 
Chinese was not ofa very dignified character, 
or calculated to do away with the distrust 
previously entertained. They had their pre. 
judices confirmed, and naturally looked upon 
ali strangers in the same light. They could 
not but regard them as enemies who were 
attracted so far from their homtfs in hopes of 

It was the same with those Europeans 
who some time back attempted to diffuse 
Cbristtanity among the Chinese. The suc- 
cess of the Jesuits was complete. They gain- 
ed the confidence of the Emperor, and ob- 
tained many proselytes to their fhiih, until 
jealousy of their progress induced the Pope 
to send monks of other orders to the same 
station. Constant misunderstanding and 
bickerings ensued, followed by recrimination 
and abuse, which ended by producing a nwst 
disadvantageous impression of the whole 
crew, and their expulsion from the country. 
It is unnecessary to trace further (lie causes 
of distrust and ill-feeling on the part of the 
Chinese in the earlier periods. It has been 
sufficiently shown that the ill opinions enter- 
tained were not altogether unfounded, and 
that the prejudices of a 'thousand years were 
not to be eradicated by such conduct. 

At later periods considerable advancement 
has been made io conciliating the better feel- 
ings of the Chinese. The illusions of tradt- 
tnp have been in some measure dissipated, 
and even a portion of respect has been wrung 
from them. The English have enjoyed this 
advantage in a much greater degree than any 
other people, and this is entirety to bo attri- 
buted to the upright and honourable manner 
in which all iho intercourse was conducted 
under the management of the East India 
Company. We do not mean to assert thatat 
that lime the most independent and determin- 
ed lino of conduct was always adopted on 
our part, or such as was likely to impress 


upon the minds of the natives an idea of a 
powerful nation. On the contrary there was 
frequently shown a great deal of vacillation 
of purpose, by which the Chinese habits of 
imposition and extortion were strengthened ; 
and the frequent threats held out but never 
fulfilled, must have conveyed an unfavoura- 
ble impression of our courage and resources. 

For our pan we confess that a perusal 
of the Company's transactions in China re- 
minds us of a scene of constant occurrence 
in the metropolis, of a purchase made in the 
shop of a Jew, who is in the habit of asking 
for his goods a much larger sum than he will 
take. At first the customer is indignant at 
the attempted imposition, and walks away 
with the determination of leaving the place. 
He scarcely gets outside the door, however, 
before he is recalled by the Israelite, who 
offers to lower in some degree his demand. 
This dnes not please, and the bargain is refus. 
ed. The Jew persists, and the customer 
departs ; but before be reaches the street the 
tradesman agaios calls him back, and agrees 
to reduce the price to the proper value of the 
article. The purchaser now thinks that by 
showing unconcern, as if he were not in real 
want of the goods, the crafty shopkeeper wilt 
give way still further, and therefore once 
more quits the premises. But in this he is 
mistaken. He is no more solicited to re- 
turn ; and is therefore obliged to go back, 
and, looking foolish enough, make the best 
bargain he can j thus giving encouragement 
to the son of Levi to impose upon him in 
future, la this light we are tempted to re- 
gard the frequent orders of the supercargoes 
for the ships to move down the Canton river ; 
their subsequent recall ; threats of breaking 
ofTthe trade altogether, and final submission 
to extortion. 

But notwithstanding the vexations to which 
they were occasionally obliged Io submit, the 
Englisi), in the lime of the East India Com- 
pany, made considerable advances towards 
conciliating, as we have said, the good opi- 
nion of the Chinese. On this account they 
enjoyed certain privileges, which, although 
of no great importance, were not conceded 
to any other nation. Many disagreeable cer- 
emonies were dispensed with, and more par- 
ticularly the supercargoes of vessels under 
the British flag were exempted from swear. 
ing that there was no opium on l)osid, while 
all other stiips were forbidden to enter the 
river until such oath had been taken. A 
degree of confidence was also evinced in 
their mercantile dealings, and which was the 
more surprising when we consider the suspi- 
cious character of the natives. The manner 
of arranging the prices to be given for tho 
I leas deserves to be mentioned. The. JWi-,, 


ters were subjectsd to the azamination of the 
Company's tea-inapectors, when, upon thoir 
report of its superiority or inferioriiy I 
standard quality agreed upon, the teas 
Talued at a higher or a lowor price. In this 
business of valuation, (he hong-mercliants 
took no part, and scarcely ever objected lo 
the decision. 

These beneficial effects muat bi3 attributed 
en^rely to the honourable and liberal mai 
ner in which all the transactions were coi 
ducted. The Chinese really entertained 
great degree of respect for the members of 
the Select Committee, and relied implicitly 
on their word. Some of the principle obsia- 
dea lo an open and unrestricted intercourse 
were thus overthrown, nnd it is probable the 
success might have been complete if the sys- 
tem, with some modificntion, hnd been pur. 
sued for a longer period. The Select Commit. 
lee found thai a steady perseverance in open 
and upright conduct was itie only way to 
overcome prfjudices. As the Chinese utterly 
deny the equality of independent nations, and 
even the natural equality of mankind, a few 
essential principles of universal equity are 
the only laws in which they would acqui- 
esce, and the only ones lo be appealed to 
by foreigners. The exact state of our pal' ' 
cal and commercial relaliona with China 
the period of the expiration of the charlei 
the Ktut India Company should be well ci 
■idered, in order lo judge fairly of the occ 
rences which have since taken place, i 
their probable effects on our inlcrcouri 
whether the prospect of a good understanding 
has been brightened or obscured. 

This brings us to the opium trade, a ques- 
tion which now engages a considerable por- 
tion of public attention, and properly, as it is 
becomo of enormous magnitude, end has 
auch peculiar features, and such an influence 
oD all the affairs of the East, that the whole 
of ita bearings are deserving of the atrictes*. 
scrutiny. The politician, the merchant, the 
divine, the moralist, and the philanthropiat, 
will find in its investigation an object for the 
gravest meditation. Its final settlement may 
DOW be speedily expected, as it has become a 
national affair, and is no longer conGned to a 
few individuals in a distant part of the world. 
Recent events have displayed a crisis which 
has been long predicted by those who may 
be supposed most acquainted with Asiatic 
Affairs. Many residents at Canton have fore, 
■een these occurrences, and most of the late 
writers on China have attended to the sub- 

Whether we reeard the capital employed 
or the countless millions of people concerned 
in the traffic, it is evidently a question of the 
greatest importance. For our parte, our 

TAe Opium T^ade wUh China. 


opinion has been long made up. We do not 
hesitate to pronounce the opium trade on the 
coast of China one nf the most abominable 
and mischievous systems now in exislence, 
and reflecting the greatest dishonotir on the 
British flag. Before we proceed to prove 
this position, it will be necessary to give an 
outline of the way in which the traffic is usu- 
ally carried on, as it may be presumed that 
the particulars are not familiar to many of 
our reader*. Attention until lately has not 
biien called to it, so that its progress has been 
watched by scarcely any but those personal* 
iy interested. 

The opium trade, now under considera- 
tion, is that carried on between the British 
possessions in India and the Chinese empire. 
For although some portion is imported from 
Turkey, and the poppy is cultivated in some 
provinces of China itself, yet this is of very 
inferior importance, the opium supplied from 
these sources being inconsiderable in quantity. 
The trade has risen into importance altoge- 
ther of bte years, and has increased to a most 
surprising extent. An instance of such rapid 
augmentation of a single branch of com- 
merce is hardly on record. Some years 
back, about the lime of the embassy of Liord 
.Macartney, scarcely any mention is made of 
it, lis opium was then used merely as a med- 
icine. Afterwards it was employed aaa lux- 
ury, and from that time the consumption rap- 
idly increased. "In 1S!8, 1817, twenty- 
two years back, 3,810 chests of the Indian 
ipium were imported. In 1826-7, it had in- 
ireased to 9,968; in 1832-3, to 23,670: and 
lastly, in the season 1836-7, no fewer than 
34,000 cheata were brought by the clippers."" 
The following statement of the Rev. W. H. 
Medhurst exhibits the consumption of opium 
during the last twenty years : — 
1816, chests 3,210, value 3,657,000 dollars. 
1820 . . 4,770 . . 8,400,000 
1825 . . 9,621 . . 7.608,205 
1830 . . 18,760 . . 12 900,031 
23,670 . . 15,338.160 
27,111 . . 17,904,248. 
Tbe quantity introduced during the year 
tnding in the spring of 1837 was 34,000 
:hes(s, and the deliveriea during the month 
if July of the same year amounted to 4,000 

In order to convey to the reader some 
dea of the quantity consumed yearly by iho 
Chinese from this source, it may be men- 
tioned, that although the weight of o chest 
of opium varies, the Malwa usually nve. 
rages about 134lbs per chest, and the Patna 
lieibs. Taking, therefore. ISOlbs os the 

' Fan-qui in Ciiin*, vol. uL p. 168. 
tChina— lis Bute Knd Proapeeta, o.,B6q|.> 

7%e Opium Tnule u»tt China. 


average of the whole, the quantity CMHained 
In 34,oao chests would amount to 4,080,000 

The chief places where the poppy is cul- 
tivated in India for the nianu(aclure of 
opium are at Maltra, Benares, and Behar. 
One hair of the Indian drug is grown at 
Malwn, and there the cultivation of the plant 
and the trade in opium are free, as the 
management of the soil is beyond the au- 
thority of the company, although the chiefs 
are under British protection. Nearly the 
whole of this portion gooa to Bombay, 
where it is shipped for China. At Behar 
and Benares, on the contrary, and indeed 
throughout the territories under the juris- 
diction of the East India Company, the cul> 
tivation of the poppy, the preparation of the 
dru^, and the traffic in it until it ia brought 
to Calcutta, are under a strict monopoly, 

In these districts the rvot or farmer is 
frequently compelled to cultivate the poppy 
at a fixed rate, and should it be discovered 
that he does this clandeaimely, and without 
having entered into' such an engagement 
with the governraenl, his property would be 
immediately attached, or he would be obliged 
to give securities for the faithful delivery of 
the product. A ayalem of most oppressive 
espionage is at the snme time established 
for the purpose of preventing the traffic in 
the slightest portion of this valuable drug. 
At certain seasons ibe Com pa ny'a^o downs 
are opened at Calcutta- and the sales of 
opium effected. Great numbers of the resi- 
dents puri^hase for the sake of speculation, 
as the price continually varies in China. 
Such a wakeful eye is kept over the drug 
that it is scarcely possible to purchase a 
single pound at Calcutta from any other 
thnn the agents of the government. 

From Mr. Montgomery Martyn's " Sta. 
tislicB of the Colonies of the British Bm- 
pire," a notion can be obtained of the rev- 
enue derived by the Indian gnvernmenl from 
the monopoly in opium. From this it appears 
that " in the season 

Chest*. Sicca Rupee*. 
ending 1800, they sold 4,034 for 3,142,691 
1810 . . 4,561 8,O7O,9.'J0 
1820 . . 4,O0G 8,855,603 
1830 . . 8,778 11,255,767 
1835 . . 12,977 13215,464 
1837 . . 16,910 25,895,300 
Esiimating the value of the sicca rupee 
2». sterling, the opium sold in the season 
1837 would amount to £2,539.530.'"' 

When the sales have been tff.'Cted at 
Bombay and Calcutta, the opium is shipped 
on board vessels expressly fitted for iho 


trade, which proceed immediately to China. 
They are called clippert, are remarkably 
handsome, well-built ships, and possess 
superior sailing qualities. Arrived on the 
coast, they deliver their cargo into a class 
of vessels called reeeietng ahips, which are 
always anchored at the station of Lintin, or 
the adjacent anchorages of Capsingmoon or 
Cumsingmoon, situated without the Bocca 
Tigris, at the mouth of the Canton river. 

As the importation is expressly forbidden 
by the Chinese government, it has now to 
be smuggled clandestinely into the coun- 
try. For Ibis purpose native smuggling 
boats are employed, which are wellman- 
ned and armed. Orders from Canton are 
n to them, with which they proceed to 
the receiving ships, and the opium is de. 
livered to their charge. It is taken out of 
the chests, examined, and removed after 
ig packed in convenient parcels, ready 
to be easily carried off in case of pursuit. 
Collision with the authorities rarely takes 
place, as fees arc regularly paid for conniv- 
ance to the otScere of tba imperial pre- 
ventive squadron. Indeed, it is not unfre- 
quent for the custom. house olficeis them- 
selves to be engaged in the smuggling trade, 
and government boats have been observed 
taking in o cargo of opium in the open face of 
day. This is the usual way in which the im- 
portation ia eflbcted, but some portion is also 
taken up to Whanpan occasionally, and a 
certain number of chests is disposed of 
along the coast to the northward, 

When arrived at the provincial city, the 
opium passes into the hands of native 
brokers or melleri, who subject it to a pro. 
cess by which the crude article is reduced 
to a watery eslract. The Chinese desig. 
nate the varieties of Indian opium by the 
names of black earth, wfiiif. tkin, and red 
>Ain, which severally fetch about 800, 600 
and 400 dollars a cheat. The quslily 
which they prize in these samples may be 
gathered from a paper by Dr. Butler, ''On 
the Preparaiion ol opium for the Chinese 
Market," published in the Journal of the 
Asiatic Society of Bengal, in March, 1836. 
" The great object of the Bengal opium 
agencies is to furnish an article suitable to 
thd peculiar tastes of the population of 
China, who vnlub any sample of opium in 
direct proportion to the quantity of hot- 
drawn H-atery extract obtainable from it, 
and to the purity and strength of the flavour 
oi that exlrnct when dried snd smoked 
through n pipe. Tho aim, therefore, <if the 
agencies should be to prepare their opium so 
that it may retain as much as possible its 
native sensible qualities, and its solubility 
in hot warer Upon iheso poin'a depend 
I .tizedbyGoOgIC 

'r/>e Opium Trade with ClUna. 


the virtuatly higher price ibat Benares 
opium brings in the Cbioa market, and ihe 
lower prices of Behar, Malwa, and Turkey 
opium. Of the last of these, equal (Chinese) 
Tatuea contain larger quantities of ihe nar- 
cotic principles of opium, but are from their 
greater apiasitude, and the less careful pre. 
peration of the Behar and Malwa, incapable 
of yielding extracts in equal quantity and 
perfection of flavour with the Benarea." 

From calculations made by foreign resi- 
dents in China, and published in the Chi' 
nese Repository in [he year 1836, it appears 
that if 34,000 cheats ofopium are imported, 
they would yield 33,320,000 taels, nearly 
equivalent to an ounce weight of smokeable 
extract. By allowing one tafil to each per- 
aon for daily consumption, the number of 
smokers supplied by this quantity of the 
drug would be 912,000. IBut it is evident 
from statements which aubsequenlly appear, 
ed from other parlies, that a mace, nearly 
equal to a drachm weight of the extract, 
would be an ample allowance for daily con- 
sumption. When we consider also that the 
same portion ia two or three timea ignited, 
that the extract which in its fresh stale 
served the luxurious mandarin one day, 
supplies the pipe of an inferior the next, and 
that even the dregs and dirt of the pipe are 
greedily devoured by the menial, the num- 
ber of consumers is greatly increased, and 
nay fairly be estimated at more than two 

Notwithstanding the opinion which now 
almost universally prevails in Europe as to 
the deleterious eoects ofopium, except when 
used medicinally, there are not wanting 
some few who maintain that it is a pleasing 
and gratifying luxury, which may be in- 
dulged in without injury to health. They 
say that any one who is at all acquainted 
with the manners and habits of the Bast 
must Ifnow that it is an indispensable itimu- 
lani to the Chinese — that it would be as ab- 
surd to deny them the drug aa an English- 
man bis beer and spirits. As these notions 
may have been formed from want of know- 
ledge of the subject, and we should hope 
that their promulgation arose from no inter- 
ested feeling, we hasten to lay before our 
readers a few particulars. 

It is allowed that the effects of opium are 
the same whether swallowed in a solid or 
liquid state, or smoked through a pipe. 
The latter plan is usually practised by the 
Chinese, and no doubt would be perni. 
cious even if used with moderation. But we 
will venture to say that this Ecarcely ever 
occurs. The pleasure is so great or the in- 
faiUQtion so strong that it cannot be resisted, 
and the drunkard is the victim of hia folly. 

The words of a great poet, now no more, 
on this subject will be recollected. They 
occuT in a letter written to an intimate friend, 
while he was still a slave to the '' accursed 
habit" into which " he was seduced ignor- 
anlly." " For ten years," he says, " the 
anguiah of my spirit has been indescribable. 
Conceive a poor miserable wretch, who For 
many years has been attempting tn beat off 
pain by a conalant recurrence to the vice 
that reproduces it. Conceive a spirit in 
hell employed in (racing out for others, the 
road 10 that heaven from which his crimes 
exclude him. In short, conceive whatever 
is most wretched, helpless, hopeless, and 
you will form as tolerable & notion of my 
slate as it is possible for a good man to 
have. In the one cri'ms of opium, what 
crime have I not made myself guilty ofl 
After my death, I earnestly entreat thut a 
full and unqualified narrative of my wretch- 
edneas and its guilty cause, may be made 
public, that at least some good may be ef- 
fected by the direful example." 

The following exlr&cl from a pamphlet 
published ai Calcuila under the title of 
" Remarks on theOpium Trade with China," 
is well written, and expresses in an excellent 
manner the more injurious effects of opium 
over ardent spirils : — 

" The intoxicating property or, rather 
properties, of opium, differ in their nature 
from the intoxicating properly of alcohol. 
In some respects the effects of the intoxica- 
tion are also different. They both agree, 
however, in this, that they both stimulate 
the nervous system to an unnatural degree, 
and are only fit for use when such a state 
of bodily illness already exists as to make 
a stimulus of this nature subservient to the 
restoration of other vital functions disorder- 
ed. They both sgree in this, that Ihe pleasur- 
able sense of excitement attending Iheir 
indulgence is followed by a relaxation of the 
system, said an undue depression of both the 
bodilyand mental powers when the excite- 
ment is over. 

" They both agree in this, as a conse- 
quence, that the oftener they are indulged 
in fur the sake of this pleasurable sense of 
excitement, the greater must be Ihe quantity 
used, in order to keep tip that same degree of 
excitement; sothat, if onco the appetite is 
furmed, constantly Increasing indulgence is 
necessary and almost inevitable, and not 
only so, but is yielded tu unconsciously of 
this increase. The craving of the appetite 
is insensibly the man's stun da rd for estimat- 
ing what he can (aa ho supposes safely} 
indulge in. They both tigree in this, that 
they disorder the digestive organs, predis- 
pose to most other diseases, and materially 
shorten Ihe term of life. They both agree 
in this, (hat they stupify and derange the 
intellectual powers, and that habitually i for 


TU Opnm Trade viA CUm*. 


the seasooa of depreawon are qnite as fkr 
below healthy vigour, as those of 
alternate ezcitecneiit are twyood. And over 
the final atagea of mental sufferingto which 
tbe^ both lead, one is faio to draw the veil ; 
Sctioa cwi_paiat nothing of horror half ao 
horrible. They both agree ia thii^ that they 
utterly corrupt the moral aenae : give to 
groBB appetite the reina of reason :* deDrave 
and brutalize the heart: abut up aU the 
aveauea to canscieoce : and make their victim 
the easy p[«y to every temptation that pre- 
sents llsel£ 

- "There is but one point of diflerence be- 
tween the intoxication of ardent iplrits and 
that of opium deserving of particular atten- 
tion here; and that is, the TKH-roLDforce with 
which every argument against the former 
applies to the latter. There Is no slavery 
on earth to name with the bondage into 
which opium oasts its victim. There is 
searcely one known lastanoe of escape from 
its toils, when once they have felriy envel- 
oped a man. We need not appeal to the 
highly-wrought narrations of permnal ex- 
perience on this subject, which have of late 
jieBrscome before the public; they rather 
invite distrust than otherwise, by the exag- 
geration of their poetical style. But the fact 
IS tar too notorious to be qnesticned for one 
moment that there is in oi)ium, when once 
indulged in. a fatal fascination, which needs 
almost superhuman powers of self-denial and 
also capacity for the endurance of paio, to 

" The operation of opium Is. on this ac- 
count, more deadly by many degrees than 
its less tyrannous rival. In other respects 
above-mentioned there Is generally a more 
rapid and morsperBoanent infiuenca exerted 
by opium than by ardent spirits: an infln- 
ence sodirectly inimical to all human hap. 
Biness whatever) that if the facts were not 
before our eyes, we might well doubt the 
cunning oflhe arch fleniT himself to recom- 
mend to one son of Adam the use of such an 
instrument of self-destruction." 

We purposely abstain from any length, 
eoed discussion of the merits or demerits or 
opiom BB an article of justifiable luxury. 
So much has been said and written on the 
subject that the question most be now suf- 
ficiently exhausted; we theiefbre abstain 
from quoting the opinions of physicjatis at 
home or travellers through Europe, who 
have given their testimony on the subject. 
It has been asserted that it is a justifiable 
and necessary article of luxury in Asia. 
Now let us see ho(v this aasertion is borne 
out by the evidence of those who have wit- 
nessed its operation. The opmion of the 
Dutch Commissioners who sst at the Hague 
is thus quoted by Sir Stamford Raffles in 

• Wa Tacuninaod th(a whola extmetto the ui- 
Ihor of a Lattst la Mr. Hdialay PklmOT, nositly 
puUiahsd in Ihe Timsi Nein|«psr. 
vol. XXIV. 9 


his "His'.ory of Java."* "The opium 
trade requires likewise attention. The 
English in Bengal have assumed an bzc1u> 
sivB righl to collect the same, and they dis- 
pose ofa considerable number of chests oon- 
taining that article annunlly at Calcutta bf 
public auction. It is mt>cb in demand on 
the Malay'Coast, at Sumatra, Java, and aU 
the islands towards the east and north, and 
particularly in China, although the uaa 
thereof is confined to the lower classes. 
The effect which it produces on the con- 
stitution is different, and depends on the 
quantity that is taken, or on other circum. 
stances. If used with moderation, itcsuses 
a pleasant, yet always somewhat intoxicat- 
ing sensation, which absorbs all care and 
anxiety. If a large quantity is taken, >>P'0- 
ducea a kind of madness, of which the ooects 
are dreadful, especially when the mind is 
troubled by jealousy, or inflamed with a d» 
sire of vengeance, or other violent paseiona 
At all times it leaves a slow poison, which 
undermines the Acuities of the soid, and the 
constitution of the body, and renders a per- 
son unfit for all kinds of labour and an ima^ 
of the brute creation. The use of opium is 
•o much more dangerous, because a persou 
who ia once addicted to it can never leave it 
aS". To satisfy that inclination, he will 
sacrifice everything, — bis own welfare, the 
subsistence of his wife and children, and 
naglsct his work. Poverty is the natural 
conseqaence, and thus it becomes iodiSbrent 
to him by what means he may content his 
insatiable desire alter opium ; so that at last 
be no lonrer respects either the property or 
life of his fellow creatures. " 

Mr. Hogendorp further confirms this 
opinion, by saying, " Opmm it » tlo», 
though certain foiton, which the Company^ 
in order to gain money, sells to the poor 
Javanese. Any one who ia once enslaved 
by it, cannot, it ia true, give it up without 
great difficulty ; and if its use were entirely 
prohiUted, some few persons would proba* 
bly die for want of it, who would otherwise 
languish on a little longer; but bow manj. 
would by that means be saved for the futurel . 
Moat of the crimes, particularly miuders, that 
are now committed, may ba imputed to 
opium as tbe general cause." To this is 
sdded a sentimsnt in which we entirely con- 
cur. '* The trade in opium is one of tbe 
most injurious and moat shameful things 
which disgrace the present government of 

Now let us approach tbe shores of China, 
and hear what u said by those who were 
eye-witnesses of its effects. Mr. GulzlaS* 


TV Opium "R-ade wUk China. 

made many voyages along tfae coaiti and 
details in a graphic manner the horrors of 
the practice and its destructive effeclB on 
both tife and morais. Mr. Medhunt, whose 
experience is of still more recent dale, says, 
"Tho^e who hare not seen the eSects of 
ophim smoking in the eastern world, can 
hardly form any conception of its injurious 
resnlts on the health, energieB and lives of 
those who indulge in it. The debilitating 
of the conslittiiloD, and the shortening of life, 
are sure to follow in a few years aAer the 
practice has been commenced, as soon and 
as certainly, if not much more a), than i 
seen lo be the case with those unhappy pei 
sons who are addicted to the use of ardent 
spirits. The dealers in opinm are not 
aware how much harm they are the inairu- 
inenta of doing, hy carrying on thia demor> 
alizing and destructive traffic ; but the dif. 
ference in the increase of the Chinese peo- 
ple before and after the introduction iff opi- 
iina(!) ought to open their eyes, and Isad 
tbem to ask ihemsetres whether Ihey mre 
not Bccoantable lor the diseases and dealha 
of all those who havesufiered by its intro- 
duction. And ifit heirue, that the Chinese 
increased at the rate of three per cent, per 
annum before the commencement of the 
traffic, and at the rate of one per cent, per 
annum since, it woald be well for them lo 
consider whether the deficiency is to be at- 
tributed in some degree (o opium, and the 
guilt to be laid at the door of those who are 
instrumenta in introducing it."* 

Since the opium trade has come tinder 
discussion in this country, a Tarietyofar- 
ffumenia hare been adduced by those who 
&vour tbe present system, in order to do 
away with the impreaaion against its con- 
tinuance now made u[>on the public mind. 
These we wish to mention, thai the narrow 
and selfish views upon which the system is 
upheld may be exposed. We can judge 
very fairly of the goodness of a caase liy the 
kind of reasoning brought forward to sup- 
port it. We have shown the fallacy of ihe 
assertion that opium is no more injurious 
than ardent spirits, and that it is a necessary 
Iniury nowise detricnental lo heaUh. It 
is said that the Chinese government does not 
oppose the importation of the juice of the 
poppy from any conviction of ita poisonous 
qiialiiies, but because native silver is given 
in exchange. We have no means of judg. 
ing of the motives of these people but from 
tfae documents which have been translated, 
and those certainly do not favour such an 

Atthopgh originally the prohibition may 

* China, \Mfe 56. 


have been framed on the mistaken principle 
of political economy "that it was improper 
that the pure and sycee silver of Ihe inner 
land ahould be exchanged for the vile dirt 
of foreign countries, yet since the investiga- 
tion of tne subject by the au the ritiea, much 
more correct views have been taken. In 
tbe memorial presented to the emperor by 
Heu Naetse, vice-president of the Sacrificial 
: Court, ihere runs the following passage : — 
" In the Materia Medica of Le Sbechin 
opium is called afoogung. When any one 
, h long babiiaated to imbibing it, it becomes 
! necessary to resort lo it at regular intervals, 
and the habit of using it being inveterate, is 
destiuctive lo time, injurious to property, 
and yet dear lo one even as life. Of those 
who use it to great excess, ihe breath be- 
comes feeble, the body wasted, the face 
sallow, Ihe teeth black. Tbe individuals 
themselves clearly see the evil effects of it. 
yet cannot refrain from it. li will be foiino 
on examination that the smokera of opinm 
are idle lazy vagrants, having no useful 
purpose before them, and are unworthy of 
regard or even contempt ; and though there 
are amokers to be found who have overstep- 
ped the threshold of age, yet they do not 
attain lo the long life of other men." 

The testimony of Choo Tsun and many 
other mandarins of eminence is to the same 
effect, and shows that they were perfectly 
acquainted with all the evils of opium smok- 

In addition to the evident detriment to 
health and loss of life among the Chinese 
caused by the consumption of opium, the 
system of smuggling it into the country 
produces consequences of importance. The 
greatest corruption oTthe aflairs ofgovoro- 
ment necessarily ensues, bands of despenf 
does are fostered and encouraged, ana loss 
of life is frequenlly occasioned by their col- 
lision with the authorities. The qniet na- 
tives are also frequenlly plundered and op- 
pressed. In addition, tbe efforts made lo 
convert the natives to Christianity are com- 
pletely thwarted, as the missionaries are 
conslantiv confounded with the smugglers, 
and all ineir endeavours to disseminate re. 
liifious publications met with suspicion and 

These are some of the evils which ac- 
crue to the Chinese fturn the opium traffic. 
They might have been enlarged upon and 
treated more in detail, but we fear we have 
already said enough to entitle us to rank 
among thoae who are stigmatized as "ethe- 
real d reamers, sentimental philosophers, and 
scrupulous moralists,*' from having upheld 
these opinions. Really we can see no 
grounds for such abuse. The practice ia 

TV ppi«n Trade toUk China. 


disgraceful and calla for redren. It it not 
to be lolerated od grounds of humanity. 
The English supply the Chinese with a 
deadly poison with which thousands yearly 
put a period to their existence. In England 
the aheinists are expressly ordered not to 
supply oraenio or laudanum iftbey hare the 
■ligniest suspicion that their customer in- 
tends to commit suicide with it Policemen 
are also stationed on the bridges of the 
tropolis to see that no wretched cree 
throws himself into the water. In China 
nvarv facility is aflbrded and material sup- 
plied for wholesale self-slaughter. One 
maxim we see -has been adopted from thi 
Chinese — the most enlightened doubtless— 
that " not only are there diSbrent eonditioni, 
but also difierent wrte of men." 

As we do not believe that the opium 
trade would be abolished merely on grounds 
of humanity, we now proceed to show its 
psrnicious influence on legitimate commerce 
and the true interests of our country. The 
obJQcis to be attained are feelings of respect 
and Bood.will on the part of the Chinese by 
whicn the obstructions to our intercourse are 
to be overcome. The o|Hum trade has 
always been a fertOe source of suspicion and 
annoyance. Sift-Kins at the commence- 
meiU of his reign forbad its introduction, 
and shortly aRerwards fines and chastise* 
menls wore infiicted upon those who broke 
the laws in this respect. The evil stilt in- 
creasing, and the iojurioiu tendency of 
opium smoking becoming more apparent, 
heavier puniahmenta were imposed upon the 
delmquenti. From strokes of the bamboo 
and the servitude of the wooden collar, the 
aeller and smoker of opium became subject 
to imprisonment, exile, and entire confisca- 
tion of his property. Latterly the poor 
wretchea have suffered capital punishment, 
and been publicly strangled. 

At the same time the preventive police on 
the river was strengthened, and the strangers 
watched with the greatest jealousy. The 
Hong- merchants were also required (o be. 
come soeurity for foreign vessels, and to 
give a bond that they should not enter the 
port with any of the forbidden article on 
board. The supercargoes were also re. 
quired to enter into the same sureties. 
Frequent interruptimis to the tea-trade 
occurred from seizures made on the river, 
■od the greatest impediments were thrown 
in the way of a ready communication with 
Macao. These difGcuIties led to the estab. 
lishmenl of the station of Lintin, where vea- 
■ela were constantly anchored as storehouses 
for the contraband articles. Notwithstand- 
ing the efibrls made to dislodge them, the 
number of the% ships has increased, and 

they have become the warehouses of other 
goods besides opium which are forbiddmi by 
the government. Frequently an evasion of 
the port dues alone is atlainad by vessels 
discharging their cargoes at Lintin, to be sent 
up the river by other ships. Thus a great 
advantage is obtained over the fair traders, 
so much *o as to render it a matter of doubt 
whether the whole commerce would not be- 
come contraband after a while. Another 
point deserves alteodoa. The increase in 
the smuggling traffic has given rise to con- 
siderable alarm with some of the residents at 
Canton, As the transition from smuggling 
to piracy has oRen occurred in other parts 
of the globe, the presence of so many armed 
vessels on the coast of China has raised the 
fears of the more timid, and advice was given 
to commanders to be cautious in letting 
strangers board their ships in those seas. 

These things which have been mentioned 
are highly detrimental to commerce, and are 
felt by all those who trade to Canton, fiut the 
English merchauts more particularly are the 
sufferers by the opium trade, as the Chineaa 
consider the whole traffic in their hands, atid 
that they are therefore responsible for all 
the evils which it entails. All the chests 
which come from the British possessions in 
India have the mark of the East India Com> 
pany upon them, which the natives are well 
acquainted with ; and we have seen that the 
drug which in their estimation is the beat, ia 
called by their name. Many of the native 
documents show the light in which we are 
regarded as a people ^ the government of 
China on its account. They naturally look 
upon the English as engaged in a deliberate 
and systematic violation of their laws, for 
the purpose of profiting by the sale of a drug 
which poisons and ruins a large proportion 
of their population. 

Choo Tsun, whose memorial has been 
already quoted, says, in the History of For- 
mosa We find the following Mwaage : — 
Opium was first produced in Kaqutsinne, 
whioh by some is said to be the same as 
Kalapa (Baiavia). The natives of this place 
were at first sprightly and active, and being 
good soldiers were always sncceasful in bat- 
tle. But the people called Hung-maou 
(Red-haired) came thither, snd liaving 
manufactured opium, seduced some of the 
natives into ih? habit of smoking it From 
these the mania for it rapidly spread through- 
out the whole nation, so that in process of 
time the natives became feeble and enervat. 
od, submitted to the foreign rule, and ulti- 
mately were completely subjugated. Now 
the English are of the race of foreigner! 
called Hung-maou. in introdueiog opium 
into this country tbeir purpose haaumai^,. 

TV Opitim Trade mA CktHo. 

weaken and eofeeble the central empire. If 
not early aroused to a aense of onr danger, 
we shall find oon^vea eie long on the last 
atep lowarda niia. The repeated inslances 
wiihtn a few yean of the Wbarians in ques- 
tion having asHDined an nttiludfl of outrageous 
disobedienMi and the stealthy entrance of 
their ships into tba prorlneea of Fuhke^n, 
Chekeaut, Kefaignan, and Shantuog, and 
•Ten to TeAntsin — to what motivea are theae 
to be attributed t I am truty unable to an- 
BWer the inquiry. But roTerently perusing 
the Boand instructions of your majesty's all- 
wise progenitor, somamed the BeneToleni 
(Kanghe), I find the following remark by 
him, dated the 10th month of the 35th year 
of bis reign (1717): — ■ There is cause for 
apprehenaton lest in centuries and milleniume 
to oome China may be endangered by 
eoUisioa with the Tarioos nations of the 
West who come hither from beyond the 
seas.' 1 look upwards, and odnnriDgly con- 
template the gracious consideration of that 
all>wise progenitor in taking thoi^bt for the 
eonoems of biirbariaaa beyond the empire, 
and givmg the distant ffaturc a place in his 
divke and all-providing foresight. And 
now, within a period of two centuries, we 
actually see the cammencenwnt of that dan- 
ger which he apprehended." We can 
acarcely imagine that more forcible reason- 
ing than (he following could be advanced to 
awaken the feara of a puaillanimous and 
despotic monarch. 

* With admiration I contemplate my sa- 
cred aovarefgn's anxious care for imparting 
a mUitary as well aa a civil education, 
prompted aa this anxiety is, by the desire to 
establish on a &nn bask the foundations ot 
the empire, and to hold in awe the barbari- 
ans on every lide. But while the stream of 
iiiiportation of opium is not turned aside, it 
li impossible to attain any certainty that 
none within the camp do ever secretly in- 
hale the drug- And if the camp be once 
contaminated with it, the baneful {nflu«ice 
will work iUway. and the habit will be 
tracted beyond the power of reform. When 
the periodical times of desire for it come 
round, how can ihe victims — (their legs tot- 
tering, their hands trembling, their eyes 
flowing with cbild-Uke lean)— be able In 
any way to attend to their proper exercisea T 
or how can auch men form strong and pow- 
oAil legions 1 Under these circumstances, 
the militaiv will become alike unfit to ad- 
vance in toe fight, or in a retreat to defend 
their posts. Ot this there is clear proof in 
the instance of the campaign against the 
Yeou rebels, in the 12lh year of our sove- 
reign's reign (18S2). In the army sent to 
Lefinchow on that occasion, great numbers 
of the soldiers were opium smokers, so that 
although their nunieneal force was large. 

there was hardly any strength to be found 
among them." 

These arguments may be supposed to 
have considerable weight, when it is recol- 
, lected that the Chinese are well aware of 
the progress of British arms in India, and 
have themselves witneased the forcible paa- 
sage of the Bogue and the successive 
attempts to gain possession of Macao. The 
fears and hatred of the natives would be 
stil! further increased by ihe memorial of 
Heu Eew, sub-censor o£ the military de> 
partment, who reasons : " Some think this 
mode of proceeding too severe, and fear lest 
it should give rise to a contest on our fron- 
tiers. Again and again I have revolved ihrs 
subject in my mind, and reconsidered how 
that, while in their own country no opium is 
smoked, the berbarians yet seek to poison 
therewith the people c^ the Central Flowery 
Land. I have, tlierefore, regarded them aa 
undeserving that a siogle careful or aniioua 
thought should he entertained on their be- 
half. Of late, the foreign vessels have pre- 
sumed to make their way into every place, 
and to cruize about in the inner seas. Is it 
ikely, that in this they have no evil design 
of spying out our real strength or weaknesal" 

One more extract from native documenla 
we shall make in order to show that the Em- 
peror was advised long ago to cut off the 
foreign trade altogether, rather than allow 
the opium traffic to be carried on. 

" The treatment of those within having 
been rendered severe, we may next turn to 
hese resident foreigners, examine and 
ipprehend them, and keep them in arresL 
tlien acquaint them with the established 
regulations, and compel Ihem within a lim- 
ited period, to cause all the receiving ships 
anchored at Liniin to return to their countiy. 
They should be required also to write a 
letter to the king of their country, telling 
bim that opium is a poison which has per- 
Tsded ibe inner land, lo the material injury 
of the people ; thai the celestial empire has 
inflicted on all the traitorous natives who 
sold it Ibe severest penalties ; that with re- 
gard to themselves, the resident foreigners, 
the government taking it into consideration 
that they are barbarians and aliens, for- 
bears to pass sentence of death upon them ; 
but that if the opium receiving ships will 
desist from coming to China, they shall be 
indulgently released, and permitted to con- 
tinue their commercial intercourse as usual ; 
whereas if they will again build receiving 
vessels, and bring them hither lo eniice Ihe 
natives, the commercial intercourse granted 
tfaem in teas, silk, &,e., sfaall assuredly be 
altogether interdicted, and on the resident 
foreignera of the said nation the laws shall 
be executed capitally. If commands be 
issued of this plain and energetic charactert 



in laoguan Btroog and aenae becomingi 
thoueh their nature oe the most object — that 
t<f a flog or a sheep, yet having a care for 
their own lives, tbey will not fHil to seek the 
gain and to flee the danger." 

Recent eTenls have proved that the 
tbreata of the Cfaineae are not altogether to 
be despised, and that they would proceed to 
these extremities if they found milder means 
ioefiectual. lu short, there cannot be a 
riiadow of doubt that the opium trade had a 
most pernicious influence on all our dealings 
with these people. That it served to widen 
the breach which separated us from themi 
and alirred up atl their prejudices, and re- 
flected the greatest disgrace on those who 
were concerned. 

Many of the reaideal merchants at Canton, 

The pptiufi tVad^ vith Cftina. 

who did not deal in opium, o| 


their proiest against ita continuance, and 
even those who were moat implicated, whose 
interest it was to uphold ita character, were 
evidently ashamed of their conduct, and 
tried to shid the Uame upon other ahouiders. 
A specimen of thia species of excuse occurs 
in the speech of Mr. Jardine, made at a 
public dmner in China just before his de- 
parture for England : — *' I hold ihe society 
of Canton high : it holds a high place in my 
spinion, even among the merchants of the 
East, Yet I also know that this community 
have often heretofore and lately been 
accused of being a set of smugglers ; this I 
distinctly deny ; we are not smugglers, gen. 
tlemen. It is the Cfaineae government, it is 
the Chinese ofEcera wiio smuggle, and who 
connive at and encourage smuggling — nol 
we. And then look at the East India Com- 
pany : why the father of all smuggling and 
smugglers is the East India Company." 
Now, we believe we have sutficienily provt 
that the Chinese oppose the introduction < 
opium on moral considerations, and their 
late conduct shows that they were in earnest 
ID this opposition. The Bast India Company 
took no part whatever in the traffic. On the 
contrary, so wel! aware were the Select 
Coinmitlee of ita injurious tendency, and 
the necessity of upholding the national cha- 
TBCter by courtinc; respect and esteem, that 
an officer would have been immediately dis- 
missed from the service if delected in bring. 
Ing any opium up the river. 

How long the opium trade would have 
continued, and to what extent it would have 
been carried if the Chinese government had 
not exerted itself with vigour, may wel! be 
qtiestioned. We fear that it would have 
been n long time before feelings of humanity 
ivould have supplanted those of intei 
The laimense profits derived from this 
pure source, hold out too great a temptation 

to be easily withstood, and the upbraidingi 
of cunscieoce are frequently stiBed by apQ. 
cious arguments. Among these may be 
reckoned the assertion, ttiat the opium trtida 
is effecting the emancipation of the Chinese 
people, by degrading the official classes who 
are necoming dependent, through the habit 
of opium- smoking, on foreign intercourse. 
This, to say the least of it, is supporting the 
scouted dogma — that it is right to do evil 
that good may come. 

It 18 said abo, that if the English gave up 
the opium trade, some other nation would 
take it up, and we should be the losers for 
our folly. We believe that no other nation 
would do so — because they have neither the 
means nor the inclination. Before they 
could manufacture a sufficient quantity of 
the poison, and fit out ships to carry it to the 
market, the Chinese government would have 
effectually eradicateu the destructive habit. 
Agaioj they know that if they traded in opi- 
um they could trade in nothing else — all 
their legitimetecommerce would be stopped. 
Already have Ihe representatives of the dif- 
ferent European states tried to curry favour 
with the authorities at Canton, by showing 
that they were not at all connected with the 
smugglers, and it is highly probable that the 
snme system of underhand calumny is car- 
ried on at the present day as formerly, for 
the purpose of securing a monopoly of the 
China trade. 

One other reason we have heard assigned 
for the continuance of Ihe present system, 
and this is the last we shall notice. It is 
that if the capitalists who are now engaged 
in it were to give it up, the tratfic would fall 
into tlie hands of low common smugglers, 
and the coast of China be infested in time 
with desperadoes, little belter than bucca. 
neers. In other words, because there are 
always to be found blackguards and vaga- 
bonds ready fur any evil purpose, therefore 
their office is to be undertaken by gerUleinen, 
who have means to do the mischief with 
greater certainty, and on a much larger 
scale. In point of fact, it is the capital em- 
ployed in this traffic which makes it suc- 
cessful. If the arrangements and equip- 
ments of the vessels ware not so complete, 
the opium trade might be suppressed by the 

But enough — probably at the time we are 
writing, the opium trade may be over ; the 
death-blow may haye been giren to it by the 
seizure at Canton, and il only remains to 
be considered whether the means adopted to 
effect that ot^ect were justifiable, and locon- 
sider the policy which should be pursued in 
consequence. We have no hesitation in 
osserting our conviction, from the abundant 

I qitizedbyGoOgle 

The pptHM Trad»vA^ CkituL 

t vraa given, that these events 
ought not only to nave been foreseen but 
prevented. The peculiar position in which 
Captain ^liot ivas placed, deserves to be 
attentively considereo, as he evidently ap- 
pears to have been unacquainted with it him- 
self, and consequently not to have known 
how to act in the emergency. 

It is familiar to every one that before the 
expiration of the Charter, the Chinese con- 
sidered the terms Engtith and East India 
Companj/ synonymous, and regarded the 
Presidents of the Select Committee as the 
rulers of all the people of that nation. They 
were on that account called toe po^u, or 
head men, and to them were referred all 
matters in dispute. At the cessation of the 
monopoly, the native authorities requested 
that other tae pans might be sent out in the 
place of those of the Company. As the Se- 
lect Commlltee had had the entire control 
over the British seamen ond commerce, they 
were looked upon as responsible for all acts 
committed by them under iheir care, which 
Were at variance with the laws of the coun- 
try. The superintend en la of British trade 
in China were appointed by government to 
replace the supercargoes of ine East India 
Company, to have all their powers, and the 
entire control and regulation of the com- 
merce. They were regarded, therefore, by 
the natives as placed entirely in the same 
position OS the tae pans, and had to bear all 
tbeonus of their misdeeds. 

It signifies little what powers were entrust. 
ed to Elliot by the ministers at home, wheth- 
er he was entitled to rank as a consul, a 
plenipotentiary or a commissioner ; and evi- 
den'tly he has acted as if all and each were ; 
his due ; but the Chinese regarded him as 
a veritable tae pan. They know or care 
nothing about our titles and distinctions, but 
made themselves well acquainted, as they 
thought, with his intentions, before they al- 
lowed bim to proceed up the river. His 
own explanation to the messengers sent 
down to Mocno, from the Viceroy of Can- 

"My name is Elliot; T am an English 
officer of the fourth rank; tn the autumn of 
the 14th year of Taou-kwang, I arrived 
here in a cruiser, which was duly reported 
by the pilots. During the two years, whilst 
residing at Macao, I have been engaged in 
signing the passports of the English ships 
bound homewards. And now the Com- 
pany's factory is not re-established, and 
DO tae pans arrived ; but having received 
a dispatch from the great ministers of my 
king, directing me to control the mer-l 
chants and seamen, and not to manage 
their commercial affairs, and also creden- 
tials ; tarn instructed thereby to proceed 

The Viceroy in his report to the Empe- 
ror, after expressing some uncertainty as to 
the meaning of terms, comes to the following 

"Upon examination, I find that sinoa tho 
dissolution of the English Company's fac- 
tory, no tae pant have arrived here ; that 
for the last year the said barbarian Elliot 
has been engaged at Macao in signing 
the manifesto of English ships homewara 
bound, and quietly attending to his busi- 
ness; that the arrival of ships from his 
country being frequent, and the merchants 
and seamen numerous, it is necessary, 
without delay, to have some one to oversee 
and keep them in order; that the said bar- 
barian has received credentials from his 
country, with instructions to control ita 
mercfaanla and seamen; and that he u re- 
ally the tame ai the tae poni, though the 
name be different, it merely substituting 
one barbarian for another, which change, 
as it leads to no evil consequences, I sup- 
pose may be allowed." 

Captain Elliot evidently iiad no other 
powers with the Chinese than that of toe 
pan, for they allowed no other, and therefore 
cannot be considered even by us as consul. 
Consular powers cannot be conferred by a 
government at home, without having previ- 
ous international sanction that ihey will be 
held valid when the oRicer arrives at his 
station. The duty of Captain Elliot was 
thus to superintend the trade and to see thai 
the laws of the country were respected ; that 
everything was conducted regularly and 
peacefully. He was responsible in these 
matters, not only to his own government, 
but to that of the Chineaej^as they had al- 
lowed him admission with that understand- 
ing. He should therefore have had nothing 
to do with the opium trade, which was con- 
traband, and on that account beyond his ju- 
risdiction. The free, legitimate commerce 
ho came to superintend, and ought to have 
avoided any appearance of connection with 
the illicit. This had been the policy of the 
Select Committee nf the Company, and 
should have been adopted by their succes- 
sors. If, however, he mixed himself up with 
the smugglers, and afforded them any pro- 
tection, the Chinese would naturally consider 
him as one of them, as part and parcel of 
the same tribe. He would, therefore, not 
have a claim for exemption from any mea- 
they might think proper to adopt for 
their suppression, 

That the Chinese had an undoubted right 
to endeavour to suppress the import&tic»i 

TU Ojn'im Tradt wUh Chttta. 


Kad consumption of that which they con- 
BJdered a deadly poiaoa, no one will attempt 
to deny. They formed their resolution of 
adopting vigorous measureSi after the strict- 
est inveatigatioQ, and the necessity became 
urgent. These are well known. Ailer in- 
flicting various punishments upon the na- 
tiveSf without slopping the progress of the 
evil, they resorted to the expedient of raia. 
jng public indignation a^inst the Toreign- 
ara, by strangling criminals convicted of 
opium -smoking in the square before iho fee- 
lories of Canton. One of theae executions 
took place on the 12th of last December, 
when the populace became so excited, that 
a serious disturbance look place, and the 
residents were obliged to call in the aid of 
the native police. This created very seri' 
ous alarm, and the foreigners began to con- 
uder their situation critical. This was fol- 
lowed by the arrival) at the provincial city 
in March, of '' a high imperial commissioner, 
who, havbg repeatedly performed meritori- 
ous offices, was sent to settle the a&irs of 
the outer frontier." The Commissioner, 
Lin, was invested with imperi&i authority, 
and carried the Great Seal, which had only 
two or three times been intrusted to high of- 
ficers of state. His powers, therefore, wore ■ 
unlimited, and there in liltle doubt but thati 
he stood highly pledged to exert himself to 
the uttermost in the suppression of the opi- 
um trade- 

The course he pursued for this purpose 
must be allowed lo have been extremely 
moderate, and much milder than would have 
been adopted by any other people. He ar- 
rested and closely examined the hong-roer- 
chanta and linguists so as to ascertain from 
them the parties who were implicated in the 
forbidden traffic, and finding that the greater 
number of the foreign residents had been or 
were at that time dealers in opium, he is- 
sued a proclamation to them. In this docu- 
ment, after expatiating upon the favours con- 
ferred by the Bmperor in allowing them to 
trade in tea and rhubarb, he says that the 
indignation of the whole nation is roused 
against them on account of their poraisting 
in introducing a poison against the repeated 
commands of the government. He orders 
them, therefore, to deliver up all the opium 
DOW ia their possession, that it may be de- 
stroyed, and lo give a pledge that it shall not 
be brought by ineni in future. An unsalis- 
&ctory answer being returned by the Cham- 
ber of Commerce, measures were taken to 
enforce compliance. The passage down the 
river was impeded, the grand diops were 
refused, so that the trade was etluctnally 
stopped, and the foreigners were virtually 
prisoners in their factories. To what ex- 


lent these coercive meaaores would have~ 
been carried, and bow far tbey would have 
been successfiil, it is imposuble to say. 
But Ihe probability is that liberty would havo 
been rastored whenever the real smugglers 
were delivered up, and on them alone would 
punishznent have been ioAicted. This ap- 
pears evident from the statement of the 
Lum-chuy, that he was well acquainted with 
the names of the offenders, and from the 
apologies he made (o the iniKwent suffererB ' 
for keeping them in durance. 

In the mean time Captam BlUot, residing 
at Macao, and hearing of ihe preparations 
made at Canton lo carry the resolution come 
10 by the government into effect, immediate* 
ly issued an order for all the ships to assem- 
ble, and to put themselves into a warlike 
posture- As ihe greater number of these 
were engaged in the contraband trade, what 
effect would this have upon the minds of the 
authorities but to convince them that the su- 
perintendent had the control over not only 
the vessels of the free trade but those alao 
of the opium traffic, and that he authorized 
and assisted tbsm in their resistance to the 
laws of the land ] 

Again, afler all this parade of power, what 
did he do ? Why, thinking, no doubt, that 
tbe Chinese must be intimidated, and that his 
presence alone would be necessary lo over- 
awe tbe Imperial Commission and put a sud- 
den slop lo all the dislurbancea, he went up 
to Canton and tried to exercise thai authority 
which he supposed himself to posecss. That 
he was disappointed no oue can wonder. 
He committed exactly the same error of 
judgment as did Lord Napier, snd suffered 
equal mortification and defeat. Instead of 
being respected as the representative of a 
powerful nation, he found himself a prisoner 
at Ihe mercy of Ihe Chinese. What reason 
had he for going up to Canton al that partic- 
ular lime alone and unassisted, when the b- 
vestigBtion of ihe opium trade was taking 
place 1 No plan was laid lo entrap him, but 
ne ran himself into a net prepart;d for oth- 
ers. This taking upon himself to negotiate 
with the mandarins upon the subject of opi- 
um made ihem naturally regard him as the 
responsible person and treat him according- 
ly. Truly It is a most difficult matter lo 
deal with the Chinese, requiring the greatest 
tact and delicacy, hut Gllioi certainly' in 
many points showed himself inferior to tSe 

This appears to us lo be the real state of 
the case, and we cannot see how, under the 
circumstances, he was justified in acting as 
he did. He exceeded his commission en- 
tirely in ordering the opium lo be delivered 
up, on a pledge ihal the British gove^ment i 

Tkt Ophm TrwU wM China. 

w«dd JDdBiniiiy tfcB oitoeM fbr the ncWfice. 
He had DO Ti|^ to gm iiteb a surety sdcI 
therefore bis promiw shoult] ptna for nothing. 
The opium d«hlon mint put up with thii loss 
in' tbe hem way tbey may, unless they find 
out sooM meaiiB of obliging: the Chinese to 
make restitutbo. As they would bavtr de. 
rived great profits if the' epecalatioD had 
turned out weH,tbey moM submit to bear the 
burden of its failure, inttead of shifting; it on 
the shoulders of others. 

We cannot see that tbe Chinese hare in 
this coseacled in such amanner as to jnstify 
our proceeding to extremities with them, 
We have shown thai the contempiuous treat, 
ment of Elliot ia entirely to be attributed to 
his own mismanagement, and a war would 
scarcely be deemed advisable because a 
la^ pony of smugglers hare been punish. 
ed. Something should be done, however, to 
prevent a recurrence of the insults oSbred 
to the fair traders resident at Canton, or else 
they will always be held responatbje for the 
misdeeds of others with whom they have no 
connection, and over whom they have no 
control. Their liberty and lives will be In 
continual jeopardy, and tbey will be really 
security for the good behaviour of the whole 
world. An armed interference would be 
totally unHuccessTuI unless carried on upon 
a very extensive scale ; and if once begun 
it must he persevered in, or else it would in- 
evitably ruin our trade and our moral inHo. 
ence in the East. There are plenty of com- 
petitors in China, who are always ready to 
take advantage of any occurrence to further 
their own interests at our expense. 

The plan which seems most advisable in 
the present posture of affairs, and which 
vrould at the same time test tbe sincerity of 
the members of tbe Chamber of Commerce, 
is to get all the foreign merchants trading to 
China to agree to suspend the trade altogeth- 
er until apologies had been made for the 
treatment they had suffered, and a pledge 
given that it should not be repeated. The 
opium which has been seized may at the 
same lime be demanded under promise of its 
being carried from the coast. No one at all 
acquainted with the Chinese believes thai it 
has been burnt orotherwisedestroyed- This 
plan would be successful if sufficient depen- 
dence could be placed upon the co-operation 
of tbe merchants. Tbe only fear is that in- 
dividual interests would outweigh the public 
good. The Chinese government would 
quickly be made to submit to these conditions 
from fear of the rebellion of those hundreds 
of thousands of people who have been for a 
long Lime entirely supported by the foreign 
trade ; and probably the loss to tbe revenue 


derived from that source would assist to turn 
the scale in our &vaur. 

For the future the rule of conduct is evi- 
dent. The &irand the illicit commere cannot 
both be sanctioned. One must be cherished 
and the other discouraged ; and both human. 
ily and policy point out which should be 
chosen. If the Bast India Company were 
to cease to manufacture opium, and our 
government were to fbrbid its importation 
into China under tbe British Asg, the smug- 
gling trade would then be at an end, and a. 
foul slain he wiped out from tbe national ea- 

Before giving upon a subject of so much 
importance in every point, some additional 
details, even at the rislc of paKial repeliiions, 
we cannot but express surprise that every, 
thing like protection by a naval force should 
have been withdrawn from onr merchants, 
and this too at a time when, by the opening 
of the trade and the removal of the East 
India Company's authorities, our ministry 
bad incurred the double responsibility of di. 
rccting the nefarious traffic through their 
own superintendents, and protecting the new 
competitors introduced by their own act. 
Prevention i% better than cure ; hut our pre- 
sent rulers seem everywhere strangely igno- 
rant of the moral influence of an effective 
physical force; and yet the slightest fore- 
sight would have observed the inevitable 
approach of the present crisis. 

The cultivation of poppies is carried on 
:o a great extent in various paitsof the Bast 
Indies ; but more particularly in Bengal, 
where the means of transition and the nature 
of the soil offer peculiar advantages to the 
cultivator. But in tbe district of Malwa it 
is obtained to such an extent, that it is said 
to amount to nearly half the whole produce 
of India, and ihe quality is reckoned great- 
ly superior to that of Turkey and Per- 
sia) and equal to the rival districts of Benares 
and Patna. The cultivation here is entirely 
free, and (he sale only encumbered with a 
small transit duty on the passage through 
Bengal. In Benares and Pama, on the con. 
irary, the growth of opium is monopolized 
by the government, and any unauthorized 
individu^ attempting to establish a plantation 
for his own advantage would be speedily 
ejected, or compelled to sell the product of 
his labours, at the regular price, to the au- 
thorities. The usual mode of cultivation is 
as follows ; — A certain portion of land is 
awarded to Ihe ryot or peasant, and an ad. 
vance of money tendered to enable him to 
pursue his avocation with advantage ; should 

Digitized byGoOgIC 


be prove refradoiy, the money is thrown 
imo his house, and he is compelled to return 
to his unprofitable businesa. Such being the 
ease, he cornmeucea in the mouth of No- 
vember by pl&Dtiog the seed in small squares, 
having a Ireoch or path between each for the 
convenience of watering and tending tbe 
plants, and of gathering the Juice ; the for- 
mer operation is rendered indiapeosable by 
the growihof the poppy taking place entire- 
ly in the dry aeasoD : the best and richest 
land is required, and it is said that the great- 
est care will not produce in India so fine a 
plant Bs will grow with little trouble in the 
cooler countries. In the month of Februa. 
ry, or ti little later, the operation of collect, 
ing the opium commences; previous tc 
which, however, the agents of the govern. 
meat have made a valuation of the difTereat 
lands, and have discerned, with considerable 
accuracy, the quantity of opium each ryot 
ought to deliver to the Gomashtah. An in- 
cision is made in tbe head of the poppy, and 
the juice carefully collected from day to day, 
ibe ryot, hii family, and his serf&nis (if be 
have any) Quisling; notwithstanding which 
a great loss of the juice takes placo, from its 
running over the stem of the plant immedi- 
•tely on the first incision. As the opium is 
thus gathered, it is delivered each day to the 
agent, who keeps a regular account with the 

7'ots, of tbe products of their various farms, 
he juice is required to be of a certain con- 
sistency, which is tried in the following man- 
ner: the receiver takes a portion out on his 
finger and turns it over, wheu if it still ad. 
herea it is reckoned sufficient ; if, on tbe 
contrary, it drops, either it is returned to the 
cultivator to be fEirtber evaporated, or he is 
compelled to render an extra quantity to 
supply the deficiency. The drug is then 
weighed, and the ryot receives about three 
rupees and a half for every seer (1 lb- 13 
«z}. If he be suspected of embezzling any 
part of the product of bJs industry, an ac- 
tion in the civil courts is commenced for its 

Tbe cultivation of opium has been increas- 
ing with great rapidity of late yeaiv, and 
every other article has been neglected, or 
driven entirely from the districts where it is 
grown, and as only the best soil can be em- 
ployed for the purpose, many harmless and 
valuable productions have given place to 
this noxious extract, Thiny-&ve thousand 
cheats is reported to have been the product 
last year of the whole of India, each chest 
weighing, on an average, 125 pounds. The 
destination of this enormous crop is pretty 
clearly explained in th« followiDg extract 
from ao article " On the PrtpanHim of Opi- 

VOL. XTIT. 10 

TTu Opiim Trade tfilh Ciino. 

nm for the China Markel^' written by an 
of the Benare^,Bgeacy. 

age[>cies is to furnish an article suitable _. 
the peculiar tastes of tbe population of Chi- 
na, who value any sample or opium in direct 
proportion to the quantity of hot-drawn wa- 
tery extract obtainable from it, and to the 
purity and strength of the flavour of that 
extract, when drieil and smoked through a 
pipe. The aim therefore of tbe agencies 
should be to prepare their opium so that It 
may retain as much as possible its native 
sentibln quaiitles, and its solubility in hot 
water. Upon these points depend the virtu- 
ally biKher price that Benares opium brings 
in the China market, and the lower prices of 
Behar, Halwa, and Turkey opium. Of the 
last of these equal (Chinese) values contain 
larger quantit^ of tbe narcotic principles 
of opium, but are, from their greater apissi- 
tude and the less careful preparation of the 
Behar and Malwa, incapable of yielding ex- 

From this statement it would appear, that 
tbe East India Company havo not actual- 
engaged in the sale to China of the inter- 
dicted article, they have at all events per- 
mitted and seconded the proceedings of the 
irchants, a system which is strangely at 
variance with their promise to assist the 
Chinese government in suppressing Ihu 
opium traffic, 

ARer tbe opium has been collected in the 
inner described, h is forwarded across the 
country to Bengal, whence a small portion 
is transmitted to Europe, and the major part 
osed ofto the merchants. 
'be vessels used for the transport of the 
opium to the shores of China are for tbe 
most part small schooners or brigantines, 
built solely for the purpose, with low hulls, 
cutting the waves in sucb a manner as to 
keep the decks almost perpetually wet, a 
circumstance which renders them unfit for 
any other trade. But the speed with which 
they beat up against the north-cost mon- 
soons, blowing steadily from November to 
April, and the excellence of the general ap- 
pointments, render them the admiration of 
every service, and class them amone tbs 
finest vessels that cleave the waters of any 
latitude. On their arrival at Macao the 
opium clippers, as they are technically call- 
ed, sometimes discharge their illicit cai^ 
into an old vessel moored there for the pur. 
pose, or thoy pass on to Lintin, where there 
are seven or eight large receiving ships, ii 

I shore. 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

TAt Opium Trade tpJU Cteia. 


c^mducted, is among the most remarkable 
fbatureaof^he trade. 

Id the first place, it is necessary that the 
authorities of Liatin and Macao should Bee> 
DOtbing of the traffic ; accordiagly a com- 
plete system of bribery is adopted, and the 
custom-houae officers, from the highest 
authorities to the common servants, are held 
in pay by the merchants. Even the magis. 
trates and govemors are not always inac- 
ceasiUe. All difficulties at ibe ports being 
thus removed, or materially lessened, the 
next object is to convey the opium on shore 
and distribute it among the oealers. This 
is performed by light native boata called 
" fut crabs," which defy pursuit, should it 
be attempted, and are always ready for a 
desperate resistance if attacked. By these 
the opium is conveyed to the dealers, and 
spread through the country like the humours 
of a poisoned wound, destroying health and 
vigour and virtue in its baneful progress. 

This is the mode usually employed to 
land the cargo at the diSerent sea-port 
towns, but if it be designed for (he Canton 
market, a far more complete and organised 
system is required, 

No European vessel is allowed 
proach nearer than Lintin ; the opium must 
therefore bo conveyed to Canton 
boats of the country. Several English 
brokers have for years past resided at Can< 
Ion, to whom a commission is allowed foi 
the sale of the article, in the same mannei 
as to the mercantile brokers of Europe ; tc 
them the native merchants apply for the 
drug, and having concluded the bargain, re. 
ceive an order for the dehvery of the opium, 
and pay for it on the spot in silver. The 
order is delivered at the receiving ships, 
and the chests carefliUy stowed and conceal, 
ed in the long snake>like boats to be con- 
veyed to Canton. The abuses which follow 
oa this mode of conveyance may be suppos- 
ed from analogy to the smuggling of other 
couQlriea ; they form no inconsiderable part 
of the danger and injury of the trade. The 
river is covered with government junks, 
•olely for the purpose of preventing the 
traffic, and the shores arc lined with custom- 
houses aod forts ; all these must be silenced 
by bribes ; and as the system is pursued 
every >ea-port in China, the Emperor has 
not, through the whole of his extensive 
coasts, a single man that he can trust. 
The boats are manned by desperadoes of 
the worst character, well armed, and ready 
ud willing for any act of violence that may 
ofier ; or if any thing should drive them 
from their uaual employment, they turn, l>y 
aa eai^ tranutioa, to the kindrwJ profession 


of piracy. OccasioDBlly alao they are met 
and boarded by a mandarin boat, containiiw 
perhaps from thirty to forty men ; the trad. 
era are fewer, but much better armed, and 
iguinary conflict ensues, which is ter- 
minated sometimes by the arrival of another 
mandann, at other times by the escape of the 
" fast crab." Heu Naetse, the vice-pre- 
sident of the Sacrificial Court, in a memorial 
hia sovereign on the subject of opium, 
gives the fullovring description of one of 
those encounters. 

" The late aoTemorLoo,onoDeoccaaion, 
having directed the Governor Tsln Yu- 
chang to co-operate with Teen Poo, the 
district magistrate of He&ngshun, they 
captured Leang Heennee, with a boat con- 
talningopium to the amount of 14,000 cat- 
ties. The number of men killed and taken 
prisoners amounted to several scares." 

Such are the direct evils arising from the 
system of smu^ltng, but collateral abusea 

iturally follow and swell the list to a de- 

eenever'^fore inflicted in time of peace 
by a civilized country. 

The officers thus tempted from their duty 
by the wealth and influence of the British 
merchants, become hardened by habit and 
eager for bribes, and ready for violence and 
extortion. Nor are there wanting a class of 
desperadoes who prowl the seas and rivers 
under a fictitious authority, board the ves- 
sels of the peaceful natives under the pre- 
test of searching for opium, and either by 
intimidation or violence plunder the defence- 
less proprietors of their well-earned proper- 
ly ; these of course speedily change into 
bold and dangerous pirates, and thus is Eng- 
land constantly increasing the number of 
marauders in the Indian seas, those aeoa 
which but a few years back were almost 
cleared by the power of her arms. 

We now come to the great and crying 
evil of the opium trade, its damoralising ana 
fatal efiects on all classes of people in the 
Chinese dominions. We learn from Med> 
hurst's China that in the year 1816 the im- 
portation of opium into those realms was 
B210 chests, which were sold for 3,657,000 
doiiars, or 1139 dollars per chest ; in 1836 
the importation was S7,lll chests and the 
value 17,904,248 dollars, or 660 dollars per 
chest, proving that while the consumption of 
the article has increased more than eightfold 
in the last twenty years, the price has sunk 
to scarcely more than half the original 
value. To prevent this imtnense importa- 
tion, no eflbrt has been spared on the part of 
the Chinese government, remonstrances 
have been dispatched again and again to the 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Arabian SighU. 


British roarchanta, menacea havo been 
equally disregarded, the property of Ihe 
native dealers has been seized and coafia- 
cated, and punishment inflicted lometiniea 
even to death, and stilt without checking the 
increasii^ magnitude of the evil ; can it be 
wonderea at that, wearied by uaelesa eSbrts 
and exasperated by insolent resislance, the 
Emperor has at length reaorted to the last 
expedient, and broken off an intercourse 
which no longer yielded pro Gt to his country, 
but paid for her useful luxuries with misery, 
disease and death 1 

From the authority above quoted is de- 
rived the following statement of the increase 
in Ihe population of China since the year 
1711. From that year to the year 1758, 
the population had advanced from twenty- 
eight millions and a half to one hundred and 
tiiree millions, being a^ the rate of three per 
cent, per annum. This extraordinary in. 
crease may be accounted for in the follow- 
ing manner : according to the precepts of 
CrafuciuB) " of the three decrees of imfillal 
conduct, to be without postenty is the firat ;" 
in accordance with which decree, every 
Chinaman, be his station what it may, mar- 
ries young, and rejoices above all things in a 
numerous family ; and this system, joined 
to a profound peace on the cessation of the 
sanguinary war with the Tatars, may easily 
account for the rapid increase. The popu- 
lation continued to multiply in the same 
Eroportion till the year 1792, since which it 
as gradually declined, and is now consid. 
ered to advance only at the rate of one per 
cent, per annum. This may be partly 
traced to the increase of emigraUwi, but 
must be in the main attributed to the intro- 
dactionand rapid consumption of opium ; nor 
will this devastation appear wonderful when 
it is considered that for the last twenty years 
tbe average importation has been 1,815,468 
pounds per aimum, that two or three drachms 
consumed daily is sufficient in ten or at 
moat fifteen yeara to destroy the strong- 
est man, and that the ashes of the drug thus 
fiitally inhaled by the rich may be resold to 
the poorand swallowed wtthequaleffect. The 
usual dose of opium for a beginner is from 
ten to twenty grains, which being inhaled or 
swallowed produces in a short time the wild 
but transitory delirium for which they are 
willing to sacrifice fortune, health, and even 
life. While under the effects of tbe drug 
the whole frame is violently agitated, the 
pulse accelerated, and tbe general heat of 
tbe body increased, the breath quksk and 
sudden, the eyes bright and restless, and in 
short every vita) function excited to tbe 
highest degree ; acorrespondingeffeci takes 
place upon the nwd ; n delirimn of pleasure 

is produced, accompanied by the wildest 
flights of fancy ; and the drrad of punish- 
ment, the misery of the past, and the dark- 
ness of the future, are all forgotten in the 
mad enjoyment of the moment : even afler 
the short gleam of happiness is past, and 
the sad reality of misery befora them, so 
dear is its memory, that no extent of fear or 
punishment' will induce them to betray tba 
residence of the dealer. This stale of ex- 
citement is shortly succeeded by a corres- 
ponding depression, the pulse becomes slow 
and,feeble, accompanied by apiliable languor 
and exhaustion of spirits | in this state ttiey 
eagerly return to the cause of their suffer- 
ing, and strive to drown the extent of their 
pain by increasing their daily quantum of 
the fatal drug. The r^id grewth of the 
habit compels them to augment their dose 
to one or two or sometimes four drachnu a 
day i an opium eater to such extent may be 
distinguished at the first glance from all- 
otbera of his fellow men. He no longer 
seeks his paregoric as the means of pleasure 
but as a refuge from misery ; the primary 
excitement is now little less terrible than the 
reaction ; hia&ncy is clothed with frightful 
visions, epectrea and phantoms accompany 
him in every movement, and knowing him- 
self an ol^t of scorn and loathing, he yet 
dreads to be alone ; a frightful palUdness ia 
spread over his &ce ; every fibre of bis 
frame trembles wiih irrecoverable palsy ; he 

devoured by hunger, which ha has no 
eans to satisfy, and by thirat which he 
dares not quench, for water would produce 
A spasm too violott ibr life ; in this state 
the wretched victims of inlemperwice crowd 
around tliB doore of the merciless dealersi 
imploring tbe means of oblivion, and seem- 
ing like lost spirits sent back to warn their 
fellows from destruction. At length when 
hunger, thirst, and pain have done their 
woral, tbey sink into the grave, and enter a 
world where, if it were tnie that mere 
earthly suffering alone can atone for earth- 
ly sin, a stale of unmixed happiness would 
be their lot. 

For a connected stalaroeot of the facta as 
they occurred we refer our readera to tbe 
Oriental Herald fbr September, 18S9. 

AxT. VII.— 1. TotUMd und tiiu Ifacit. 
Arabiieke Endhlungen, zam Ertttitnuilt 
otM dm aradue/ten Vrttxt trail 6beritA, 
von Dr. Gustav. Weil. Henattgegeben 
und nui emer Vorhalle. August Lewatd, 
mtt 3000 BiltUm md Vigntttnt tod 

^^i AraUm Sights. 

F. Gross. Enter Band. Stutts^rL Pfoiz- 
heitn. 1838. 

2. Ritah alif leelah wAUehhat. Edited by 
W.H. Macntighten, Esq. Calculla. 1<I39. 

8. Tht Beck of the Thoiuand I«ight» and 
One Night, from the Arabic of the Egyp- 
tian MS., aa edited by Wm. H. M&c- 
naghten. Esq., B.C.9., done iDto English 
by Henry Torrens, B.C. 9. B. A., and of 
the Inner Temple. Vol. 1. Calcutta and 
London. 1888.* 

4. Etmi Mr Let FaHe* Indie*nee et wr 
Uur Introduelim m Europe, par A. Loiae- 
leur Defltongchamps. Paria. 188B. 

Thb am gular fate of the interesting collection 
of talea which we now ofier to the reader's 
consideration may aRbrd an instance as well as 
a warning of the dangerous resulta likely to 
spring from too hasiy and immediate a Judg- 
ment upon noveLtiea, formed, if we may so 
My, A priori) and upon the strange ground 
that ihey do not periectly square with our 
leceived impressions and favourite pjepoa- 
HMions upon points more or less unbiowa 
Invest as we will tbo arguments tised by the 
learned of tbe most reoent times and of onr 
own, nith all Ibe pomp and circumstaixM of 
great names and widely raricd acquisitiona, 
still, in as much as our knowledge at (he 
present day is so confessedly limited upon 
many portions of the pest, the argumenta we 
allude to come at best to no mora than this, 
that because our ignorance precludes cer- 
tainty it necessitates doubt, and that what we 
thus doubt we ought to deny, and what we 
deny we ought to ducard. 

This chain of reasoolDg, apparently so 
cluse, might and would be perfectly correct 
if only the basis were estaUished : — if it was 
formed on our positive knowledge, and sot 
on our confessedly imperfect intormation; 
but based, as it is, on the last alone, every 
step of the argument leads us but farther 
from the truth ; for the truth, or the know- 
ledge of truth, hosyet tobe discovered: and 
the proposition, therefore, is in all such cases 
only a siring of utterly grouadless assump- 

Acting upon it then, as the learned have of 
late been too much accustomed to do, it is not 
to be wondered at thai they have remained : 
so long a time comparatively stationary - 
their reaearcbes after the hidden things of 

• The Thoosind and One Nijht*, commoDty 
ctlled, in Bngluid, the Anbian Nights' EdUiUId- 
menti. A new tnoihtion tram tSe AnUo, wHk 
oupiMU notsL Bv Edward Williun Imok, Koihoi 
or " Ths Modem Egyptiuu." lUoMntad by many 
hundred engraviuga on wood, from original deaigiu 
by WiUiam HiTvoy: in throe Tolmnei. Vol. I, 
ttmAon : Charles Knisfat and Co.. Lndgale-iUeet. 


antiquin ; that Ihey are as tkr as ever, in 
spite of their hierogtyphical labours, from 
lifting the veil of tbe E^ptian Isis in the 
West, or taking from the Pareee of the East 
that mystic covering which conceals or dis- 
guises the real utterance of his religious lan- 
guage. The mysteries of both systems, as 
of many others, doubtless iavolve a vast mass 
of fanciful and monstrous absurdity, but we 
are strongly tempted to believe that they also 
include and preserve enough of religious 
&ith and historical fact to repay amply the 
labour of bringing the whole to lighl. 

The scepticism, which on a bolder, more 
erudite ana elaborate, as well as a more re- 
scale, has thrown aside the once 
vaunted and still really important discovery 
of volumes like the Zendavesta, the Dabia- 
tan, the Deshotoor, &c. and founded its ob- 
jections upon names as referring, like the 
Akteristao, to stars and not to earth ; — to 
langnagea as approximating to but not identi- 
cal with any one with which weare at present 
acquainted ; — to sacred or prophetic person- 
ages unrecognizable by ourselves lo thia hour; 
has certainly been ably sustained; and with 
a power of ingenuity and a range of learning 
in their champions that serves as a fair, 
though the only, excuse for admitting their 
validity. There are men whose mental 
powers and general Btiainments are of so 

Sigantic a character and possess so prepon. 
sraiing an influence, that they have a right 
ly to be heard, but to be heard with an 
te prepossession in their favour. The 
world at large has neither the time, the inform- 
ation, the inciioatioo, nor tbe ability to under- 
lakea revision of their argumeotd or lo dis> 
sent from their conclusions, and must be 
satisfied to walk with submiuive faith in the 
creed of the more enlightened ; to observe 
the path, and not trample on the flowers and 
fruits that have rewarded the care, labtMU, 
and science, of philosophical cultivafon in so 
igreteful a field. 

But with all this due and indispensable 
reverence for authority, a time must come 
when it will be called in question, and by 
those even who were the foiemost to bow be- 
fore its dicta. When it is discovered that 
science, so far advanced, cannot proceed ; 
that inquiry, however general, recoils upon 
itself; that the cup of knowledge, however 
inspiring, contains but dregs a[ the bottom, 
we are apt to feel a doubt whether purer mailer 
does not still remain overlooked in the gob- 
let ; whether recoil is not produced by the 
insufficiency of the instrument ; whether the 
further door of acienoe is not barred by 
her own accumulations. Perhaps a few bdB' 
^c sounds, a simple though strange incanta- 
tion, or even the mora vulgar labours of ths 

AntUan IHgtiU. 



■pode, mwy clear Kway the Yubbieh that coo- 
««al8 the entrance of the mystic grot ; and 
the Aladdeens and even the one^yed Pn- 
keers of Philology may penetrate to the scenes 
end sense of rites of abomination, or load 
themselTes with the boundless treasure of 
historic gemi and pearls, — filter ofiering for 
Priocewes of China than the lethargic 
oiMatesof JohnCompany and his crew. 

If the scepticisms we refer to are more 
bold and more recondite, those of the case 
Kctuslly before us, as more general in their 
nature and affecting a point of popular Teel- 
ine, are more likely to lead, and in fact have 
led, to the recoil which is just beginning to 
be felt by the public mint). When the 
" Thousand and One tales" were introduced 
to Europe by Oalland they were at once pro- 
nounced ridiculous, improbable, unnatur- 1 pancies as to what country of the Bast could 
not mere exaggentions, but absolute | have originated them. Their manufadture. 

Ml intercourse ihe- inUJreet <tf tlw talev Eh> 
creased. They were found to contey a 
more perfect picture of manners than tho 
works of any traveller however accomplishtMl 
and indefatigable, and to comprise in them- 
selves a store of Eastern information, so i\- 
luslrative of feelings and customs, and so well 
acclimated in general to the places they b>- 
Bumed to depict, that it was by no means 
easy to improve ihem in these respects. The 
internal evidence was too strong for scepti- 
cism, and even before tha discovery of any 
MS. of the Thousand and One, the enlight. 
ened of every country had admitted their 

But now a new question arose ; the very 
JASS. that established their authenticity as 
Eastern, awakened doubts by their discre- 

dreanis of the distempered fancy of the 
East, presenting, tike other dreams, shapes 
of glory indeed, but, from monstrous com< 
binaiions and impossible changes, mock- 
ing all powers of analysis, and leaving only 
their vague and confused impreesioKs on the 
pulse of manhood and in the light of day. 
Europe, still ignorant of the East to this hour, 
professed at that time to know it better than 
It was known to its own children. Two cen- 


who had 

their immediate manufacture, was obviously 
that of the spot whence they were brought ; 
but though the web had been woven in Ara- 
bia or Egypt, the threads were fbund also 
inwrought with the tissues of HindMtan, and 
the richest hues were undoubtedly Persian. 
Amongst a crowd of minor oonjecturoa two 
parlies were speedily formed, and the lists 
ivere graced by the two mightiest Cham- 
pions of learned Europe, the Dii Majores of 
have scarcely dissipated the illusion [ Historical language and Traditions. The 
so rife, when the ingenious translator 'acute ingenuity, profound research, enlarg- 
adaplpd, in salutary dread, |ed learning, and scholastic accuracy of 8^' 

his labours lo the taste of his native country 
and the Western world, was at once set down 
as an able impostor, ridiculed for his presum. 
ed ignorance, and persecuted with jesting 
malice. The truth of the scenes, however, 
and the nature and simplicity displayed in the 
characters, won their gradual way into the 
bosom of the multitude ; and the child who 
had been lulled with visions of imaginary 
gorgeoiisneas and facilities of unbounded 
power during sleep, remembered in his wak- 
ing, and even his matured moments, the sym. 
pathies that had won his spirit and the facts 
that had interested his reason. A taste had 
been created, a feeling infused in his inftncy, 
which grew with his growth and strengthen- 
ed with the strength or subsequent gradual 
information ; and though the world and its 
sterner realities called him nwayfrom these 
idle indulgences, mocked at its gentler phan. 
tasie9,and precluded ail relapse, still so close- 
ly were thoy associated with the hours and 
enjoyments of boyhood, thai the Ihtber heard 
them referred lo by his children with scarce- 
ly suppressed pleasure, and felt that, like (he 
buried grain, theirbanishmem to the nursery 
had given them root and produce a hundred 

In proportion to the increaM of our Orien- 

vester de Sacy, traced, even to the minutest 
shades of correspondence and corroboratioD, 
the mode and manner of the Tales to their 
proper Arabian sources. The amy of his 
facta, their cousee, and coincidences, it waa 
idle and impossible to deny; but it was pos- 
sible to doubt the general conclusion, and 
the shield of this scepticism was in ihe hands 
of Von Hammer. With less of minuteness 
in details, or less perfect familiarity perhaps 
with language, less accuracy of general 
thought, and certainly less intimacy with 
Arabia than his justly -renowned and thus far 
unrivalled antagonist, the Orientalist of Vi- 
enna possessed an even wider range of lan- 
^ages, a freer survey of tradition, and, 
lingiy worth all other qualifications, a bolder 
ipirit of thought. Bound by the ties of as- 
sumed descent'for his nation from the tribes 
of the Caucasus and the Caspian Sea, Von 
Hammer has ever loved with filial reverence 
to trace the seats, the rites, the destinies, and 
the claims of his Indo-OerinBn ancestora- 
If such investigations have, as asserted, some- 
times led him into errors, these were venial 
and trifling; more trifling we venture to af- 
firm than most of those embraced by the 
genera) opponents of his lucubrations, and, 
80 far as we ourselves have been able to ex- 

■d by Go Ogle 


AraHan NigUi. 


aniiiw, mueh of his aj^nreatly wildar >pec- 
ulacions have been slrengthened, if not abso- 
lutely established, by tbe argumeois of his 
adveraaries ; amoogat aucti we wouLd partic- 
ularly specify Simkowsicy. We may be 
pardoned for digressiog so far as to observe 
that Von Hammer bimself has not alwaya 
been aware of bis advaoiages ; but in va- 
rious instances where he himself has frankly 
abandoned the field to his antagonist, the 
very reasoning that procured a slight triumph 
to the latter would have overthrown bim aU 

To return : respecting the specifio origin 
of the Araluan Nights' Entertainments, 
which Oallaod loosely says were written by 
some unknowQ Arabian author, Von Ham- 
mer considers that they originated, like the 
&bleii of Pilpay, from India by way of Per- 
sia. . He founds his theory partly on inter- 
nal evidence ; such as the intervention of 
Geoies of Indian character; traces of Indian 
customs and manners, and the Indian or 
Persian origin of some of the names ; but 
chiefly from a passage of Masoudi, an Ara- 
bian writerofh^hauthority,who wrote A. D. 
042, and who, referring to certain &bles or 
romances, likens them to some which he 
says have recently been translated into 
Arabic from the Persian, Indian, and Greek 
languages, amongst which he mentions 
" Siodbad," and the work entitled One Thou- 
sand Tales, commoniy called One Thousand 
Nights, containing the history of the King, 
the Vizier, and the Vizier's daughter, and 
hei nurse ; the names of the two latter being 
Shirzodeh and Dioarzadeb." M. Von 
Hammer observes, in confirmation of his 
theory, that, under the Caliph Haroun 
Alraschid and his sons, Ameen and Mai- 
moun (towards the clo&e of the eighth and 
beginning of the ninth century,) Arabian 
literature was enriched by the trajulation of 
n vast number of Greek, Persian, and Indian 
works. He supposes that the collection in 
question underwent many changes and so- 
phistications, in passing through the hands of 
so many Arabian writers. 

The theory of the learned Baron de Sacy 
affirms that the tales exhibit a complete pic- 
ture oC the customs, laws, and mannera of 
the courts of Bagdad and Gsiro ; that ihe 
original work is wrillon in the vulgar dia. 
led of Arabic, in a style which discovers all 
the traces of decay, and betrays a modern 
publication, of which Egypt was the coun- 
try j that the Genii are the bad spirits of the 
Mohammedan creed ; end with respect to 
the passsge in Masoudi, who lived some 
years before Cairo was built, if it be genuine, 
which he doubts, all that can be inferred 
from it is, that there existed, under the title 

of the TbooMuut Tales, a work with whieh 
we are now unacquainted, originally Paraiau 
or Indian, which was translated into Arabic, 
and from which the author of the Arabian 
Nights' Entertainments borrowed, perhaps, 
the names of his principal characters. He 
is of opinion that the work under considera- 
tion was originally written in Syria, in the 
vulgar dialect; that tt was lefl incomplete 
by the author, and perfected and augmented 
by later writers ; that the more recent tales 
were added at different periods, and perhaps 
in different countries, but chiefly in Egypt ; 
and that the only fact that can be affirmed 
respecting the a^ of diis celleclion is that 
it is not very old, as its language proves ; 
but still that, when edited, the use of tobacco 
and coffee was unknown, since there is no 
allusion to either in the work. 

A summary of some notices previously 
made may not be wholly unacceptable to the 
reader, or misplaced here. 

The Voyages of Sindbad ore the subject of 
a very erudite dissertation by Hole, who has 
not unaptly entitled this portion of the Thou- 
sand and One Nights, the Arabian Odyssey, 
as it seems, ■' if small things may he coon- 
pared with great," to bear the same resem. 
blance to that performance as an Oriental 
mosque to a Grecian temple. For his very 
ingenious arguments and deductions the 
reader is referred to Hole's work, but a sin- 
gular poem wbii^h has escaped his notice, 
contains some highly curious coincidences 
with these voyages and with some other por- 
tions of the Arabian Nights. They tend at 
the same time to prove the antiquity of these 
particular stories, as it is improl»ble that the 
eastern story-tellers should have been in- 
debted to the writer of a German metrical 
romance of the twelfth century. The ro- 
mance alluded to is Duke Ernest of Bavaria. 
It was composed in German Rhyme by Hen. 
ry of Veldeck, who flourished about 1160; 
and a Latin poem on the same subject, by 
one Odo, appeared about the same time. A 
prose version of the outlines of the story is 
Btill popular in Germany. In this singular 
romance we find the adronautic excursion in 
the second voyage of Sindbad, with no male- 
rial variation ; the pigmies and cranes as 
welt as the adventure borrowed from the 
Odyssey in the third voyage, and the sub- 
terraneous voyage in the sixth. We have 
likewise the magnetic mountain, occurring 
in the story of the Third Calender, which 
has also been transplanted Into the miracu> 
loua legend of the Irish Saint, Brandanus. 

The striking identity in the story of Ca- 
maralzaman with one in the popular romance 
of Peter of Provence snd the fair Maguelone, 
has been poiiled out by (he French trans- 


iS». Aniim NigliU. 

laior, and afibrda anolhvr proof how much 
the Irouveuri of FniDce wars indebted to the 
Arabian noTeliets. The tale of the Sleeper 
Awakened is evidently the foundation of 
those European anecdotes which suggested 
to Shalupeare the induclion to the Taming 
of ihe Shrew. One of the most Mlf-evident 
CoineideDces is the Enchanted Hone, which 
wu evidently the original of the Branen 
Horse of Chaucer ; of that by means of 
which Pierre carried off the fair Mogueione ; 
and, fiaally, of the Clavileno of Cervantes. 
Hole also pointed out the similitude " of the 
mirror which discovers secret machinations 
and future events, and of (he ring which re- 
veals the language of birds," in Chaucer's 
Squire's Tale, with the ivory perspective 

g'ass, which occurs in the story of the Peri 
anou, and the merchant gifted with the 
Sech of birds in the fable of the Asa, the 
, and the Labourer. Similar magic mir- 
rors and rings occHr in several Asiatic and 
European romances ; and the acquirement 
of the language of birds in particular, which 
perhaps originated in this science being at- 
tributed to Solomon in the Koran, was a 
favourite fiction in the middle ages. In the 
same nranner the travelling carpet 
story of the Peri Banou, which is likewise 
founded on the wonders attributed to Solo< 
moo by the Mahommedana, was introduced 
into the French romance of Richard sans 
peur, as has been remarked by a former 
editor of the Arabian Nights. Italso 
diolely brings to our mind the wishing-cap 
of Fortunatus, a romance which bears strong 
marks of an Oriental origin. A wishing. 
rod of rather a different nature occurs in the 
ancient German romance of the Nibelungen, 
and is also mentioned in a Teutonic glossai? 
of the ninth or tenth century. 

Hole also pointed out the origin of two 
atoriea; that of Bedreddin, founded on a 
very ancient story in Nella-Rajah, inserted 
in Kindernley'a Specimens of Indian Litera- 
ture ; and that of Alaaschar, evidently found, 
ed on a fable in the Hitopadeesa. 

We have already expressed our own con- 
viction that the celebrity of Ferdousi in the 
ninth century introduced much of the chival. 
ry of the Elaal into Europe at the Onnades, 
and accounts for much that is found in the 
kindred genius and themes of Ariosto him- 
self. But it is, we conceive, equally unques- 
tionable that, as we observed in the article 
just alluded to, (F. Q. R. No. 46, German 
Literature,) the tribes of the Bast when mi- 
grating 10 Europe introduced with their arms 
their traditions also, the same which had 
afforded a basis to the work of the great 
Persian poet and to his predeceasors. The 
BODgs, in fact, of tb« Tatars are everywhere 


paralleled in antiquity wherever its lrac«a . 
appear; and thus the sole difficulty of this 
opinion vanishes, since we find that the 
Arabs conserved to a late period and with 
singular care as to fidelity of tradition, not 
admitting the change of even a single letter 
of the narrative, the succession of oral his- 
torians or reciters, by them called Rouwah, 
(see F. Q, R. No. 39,) and who, like 
the minstrels of Europe, a^ the Usi, Kavi, 
Aoidoi, Nabathi, &c. of other lands, ware 
especially davoted to historical narration. 

Thus in the story of Bindbad, many of the 
incidsnls which are anributed to the Greeks 
were undoubtedly borrowed by them from 
Persia ; and the fabulous deduction assuredly 
iprung from an historical fact. Thus, as 
noted on a former occasion, the CHd Man of 
the Sea, simpiy signifies the chief (sar)af the 
sea or lake, (yangi,) i. e., of the coast ; — and 
there isnogreater perversion in Ihe translation 
than in that of sbeikti, used sometimes as chief, 
sometimes as old man, or elder, (so too our 
eoldermano) as in patriarchial countries. 
The same compound word, sar-yangi, is 
obviously the name preserved by Arrian,and 
Quintua CurtiuB, as Zarangs, a Scytho- 
Penic tribe. This singular identity is 
established by the fact (hat (he Avari, or 
Bh'<pherd8, of our Indian frontier, Scyths also, 
are in a vulgar tradition represented as 
riding upon the conquered inhabitants; while 
the buskin, mentioned (if we remember 
rightly, by Herodotus) as the appendage of 
the Scythian tribes, at once explains the 
phantasy of the leather legs of these man- 
bestriding Ancients. 

Various similar affinities, explainable only 
by (he older Persian language, and but par- 
tially so by the Sanscrit, go far (o prove, we 
submit, that the origin of the tales and tra. 
dilions that have for so many centuries 
astonished and amused Eorope may be 
sought for in Persia alone; and that the 
deevs or magicians, (he instructors of these 
last, were not Brahmins, we have repeatedly 
itimated as our opinion ; however they may 
have become possessed of tba primevtd 
ibodes, if such ihey were, (and it is scarcely 
1 question but that they were not,) togethw' 
with the language of their predecessors. 
Our suspicions, and those of others, home 
out by the remarkable absence of all histo. 
rical documents amongst (he Brahmins, are 
even more strongly confirmed by the recent 
fact stated in CoT. Tod's volume lately pub- 
hich is loo extraordinary to he 
passed over here. 

We insisted, in the article referred to, 
(Tamil MSS. No. 87, April, iS37,) on the 
peculiarity that the Brahmins had no histoiy, 
and that they were oareful to destroy all 


Arabia* lUgkU. ■ 

, MMh reooidfl of others as Cftme in their way. 
W« noticed, (tt the same time, the aingular 
oODlraat afforded by the Jaine, who carefully 
pieaerved every paper that fell in their way : 
a course imiuied by the Mahammedana also ; 
for tnany of the Arabian cuatoma are trace- 
able to Peraia and Hiadoatan. This strug- 
gle between the Cooservalivea and Deatruc- 
tivea of Indian litenture, is accounted for 
by the Jaiua, with every appearance of pro- 
bability, by the statement that the Brahmins 
who superseded them endeavoured to de- 
stroy the evidences of their prior possession 
and antiquity. Colonel Tod derelopes a 
fact which, even in its outline, supports their 
assertion ; for he discovered at Anhulwami 
sn immense library preserved by the Jains 
nith the greatest secresy in subterranean 
chambers. In quoting the passage we shall 
merely remark that the diacovery seents to 
have been scarce fairly appreciated by the 
concluding observation. 

" It is contained in subterranean aparl- 
menta in thai quarter of the new town which 
has appropriately received the name of An-, 
bulwarra. Its poaition screened it from the' 
lynx-eyed sCTUtiny of Alls, whenhe destroy- 1 
ed all that was destructible in ihis ancient; 
abode. Thecolleclion is the property of the 
Khartra sect, of which the celebrated Amra 
and Hems were the Sripoqj^ or primates. 
This sect, called Khartra, or ' the orthodox' 
(a title conferred by SidraJ, after long theo- 
logical dispuiations,) is the most numerous 
ofall the Jain votaries, enumerating at one 
time no less than eleven hundred disciples, 
extending from the Indus to Cape Comorin. 

Though every one, lay or elericnl, bearing 
the name of Khertra. has a property in the 
library, it Isin strict charge of the JV^or-iSUA 

and the ParuA, or chief magistrate 
cil, of the city, while its immediate auperin- 
tendence is confided lo some Yutis spiritual- 
ly descended from Hemacharja, the Eenioi' 
of whom has some pretensions to learning. 
Years before my visit, I had known of its ex- 
istence from my own Guru, who was equally 
anxious with mvaelf to place the fact beyond 
doubt, and on the very day of our arrival, be 
haatened to* worship the Bindar.' Although 
bis venerabit! appearance was quite enough 
to make the paulocks fly open, nothing could 
be done without the Jiat of the Nagar-Selh. 
The council was convened, before whom my 
Yuti produced bh palraixilij or spiritual pedi- 

free, tracing his descent from Hemacharyn 
imself, which acted like a spell, and he was 
invited to descend and worship the treasures 
ot ages. The catalogue forms a large vol- 
ume, and I should fear to hazard my own 
veracity, or (hat of my Guru, by giving hia 
estimate, trom its contents, of the number of 
books which filled these chambers. They 
are carefully packed in cases, filled up witl 
the dust of the Mvgd, or Caggar-wood, an in 
ft lltble preservative against Insects. 

" Until we kave some insight into tbe oon- 
tents of the subterranean 'bicidar,' of Anhul- 
warrs, and a more extended knowledge of 
the Oswals of Jusaulmar, with access to its 
library, which is equally numerous and pro- 
bably more select than that of Pultun; above 
all, until we have formed some acquaintance 
with the dignitaries of the Jain sect and their 
learned iibrariana, we are not in aconditioa 
to appreciate the intellectual riches of tbe 
Jains, and can only pity the overweening 
vanity which has prompted the assertioo, 
that the Hindus possess no historical records, 
and which seeks to quench the spirit of in- 
quiry, by proclaiming such research a vain 

The fair inference, however, is that the 
Jains concealed these treaauraa in order to 
aave tbem, as they allege, from their perse- 
cutors. It is not tlierefore just to charge tha 
opponents of Brahmin ical antiquity with de- 
nying the existence of historical records in 
Hindostan ; for no one at all acquainted with 
the subject could doubt the propensity of tha 
Jains, even before this discovery ; but it tells 
with double force against tbe Brahmins; for 
if they, the temporal and spiritual masters of 
the country, possessed from immemorial tinM 
the seats of learning, how comes it they can 
show nothing to esublish their extraordinary 
claims 1 Because, and thus olooe can we 
account for the now scarcely questionable 
^t — because if Hiodostan possesaes records, 
these tell against the pretensions of tbe 

If then these claims are inadmissible, the 
theory which gives the origin of the Thou- 
sand and One to tbe Brahmins is, with 
Schlegel, e^^onoou^ and confirms in part the 
suspicions of Von Hammer, that they were 
Perso.Indian. The whole tendency of our 
own argument has been that they are proper- 
ly Persian, or Perso-Deev, carried to India 
by the Deeva, in Darius's expedition, and 
there reappearing in tha form of tbe Pancha- 
Tantra, as recognized by Professor Wilson. 
Fire worship was introduced into Persia in 
the reign of Giutasp, or Dariua Hyataspes, 
at latest, and had made hut slow progress in 
his dominions, and none in Tartaiy and lo 
the East. In Peraia it was in truth actively 
abhorred ; and in the reign of Homst, and 
even of Darius her son, it was clearly any 
thing but general. How then can there he 
any objection in the hatred professeti for the 
Pi re- worshippers throughout the Thousand 
and One 1 The reign of Homai, the Pary- 
salis (Peri-Zadeh) of the Greeks, was dis- 
tinguished for its illumination ; that Princess 
herself was highly accomplished and a lover 
of letters, which she herself cultivated ; and 
that the country itself was in a high state of 
literary civilisation is apparent from the ira- 


AraiittH NighU. 


dtlion that when ha> aon, or smndaao, Ds- 
riua, wu vuiquished by the Greeks, and the 
confuaed reigns of the AshkaniaDs eosued, 
— «rier 217 years Ardisheer Babegui, the 
rettoeer of the anoieat line, sought out care- 
fully all the niODURients of the Dationtd 
learoiDg nod beli<^ and re-oMaUished with 
due hoDOurs the Magi, the preaarreia of li- 

We are, therefore, fully inclined to admit 
the probability now insisted ou by Baron 
VoD Hammer Pvrgstall, that early Persia 
and Homai were llie original framers of the 
Tbonsand and One ; and when we recollect 
how careful the Arabs of later days must 
necessarily hove been to modify the manners 
of other countries, otherwise unintelligible to 
their own excessive aalionBlity, we shall 
readily comprehend the truth of any argu- 
menta for the conversion of foreign scenes 
and manners into those of Arabia and EgypL 

NoTenheleu we must declare our entire 
and positive oonriction (faat those conver- 
sions were not needed ta the utmost extent 
that has been imagined. We are decidedly 
of opioion that the Arabs, somewhat like the 
Brahmins, adopted much from others, or else 
preserved much that had descended to them, 
m common with the rest of the world, from 
the most ancient nations. This argument 
applies to some remarks of Mr. Lane's, to 
whom we have been leas anxious to introduce 
the reader, from the deserved popularity of 
his admirable translation and ezpooHions, and 
which of course have introduced the woA 
into every library. In Mr. Lane's transla- 
tion we find the King of the Black Islands, 
and thtse sre four in number, making this 
statement of bis wife's cnchantineDls : — 

" The inhabitants of our city were of four 
classes; Muslims, and Christians and Jews, 
and Magians; and she transformed them 
into fish; the white are the Muslims; the 
red, the Msgiatis; the blue, the Christians; 
and the yellow, the Jews. She transformed, 
also, Ibe four Uands into fbur mountains, 
and placed them around the lake." — Lam, 
part li. p. 110. 

Herevpon Mr. Lane acutely observes :- 

as bein^ one ofthose which assist us to form 
some opinion respecting the period when the 

E resent work was composed or compiled. It 
I the same in all the copies of the original 
wwk that I have seen, and bears strong evi- 
dence of having been written subsequently 
to the commencement of the aiehth cenlui^ 
of the Flighty or fourteenth of our era, at 
which period, it appears, the Christians and 
Jews were first compelled to distinguish 
themselves by wearing, respectively, blue 
and yellow turbans, in accordance with an 

TOL, IXIT. 11 

order ifsued by (he Sult&n oj Egypt, Uo- 
bamioad Iba Kaja-ooa.* Thus the white tur- 
ban became peculiar to the Muslims. — Ad 
eminent German critic has been unfortunnte 
selecting the incident of the four fish as 
affording an arKumeat in favour of his opi- 
nion that the Tales of a Thousand and One 
Nights are of Indian origin, on the mero 
grouad that the same word (varTu) is used in 

anacritlosignifyboth'colouK'and 'caste.'" 

-Part iii. p. 136. 

Again : — 

" Tbe tale here presents uiotlier remark- 
able anachronism. The title of 'Sutt&a' 
was first bc»'ne by Habmood Ibn Sabukt^ 
keen, in the year of the Flight 3fi3. jost two 
hundred years after the death of H&roon Er- 
Easheed ; and there was no Sult&n of Bgypt 
until the year of the Flight 667 ; the first be- 
ing the famous Sal&h ed-Deen, or Ssladdin. 
It appears, then, that there must have been 
a long series of Sulifcns in Egvpt before the 
period oftfae composition of tau work; for 
ottMrwiae the author could not have suppsH- 
ed that there waa one contemporary with 

^1 have now given several data upon 
which to found a reasonable opinion as to 
the age when these tales were composed. 

accordance with tbe distinction of Musilms, 
ChrisUans. and Jew^ bv the colours of their 
turbans, wnicta mode of distinction originat- 
ed in the beginning of the eighth century <tf 
the Flight. Secondly, in the present note, I 
have given a strong reason for concluding 
that there must have been a long series ot 
Sultfins tn Egypt before the age of the an- 
tbor. In tbe third place, I must remark, tliat 
all the events descrilwd in this work are 
said to have happened in ages which, with 
respect to thatof the author^ were cmetenl, be- 
ins related lo an ancient king ; from which 
I tbink we may infer the author's age to 
have been at least two centuries posterior to 
tbe period mentioned in the first of tliese 
data. Fourthly, in Note 28 to Chapter iii., 
I have shown that the slate of manners atid 
morals described in nuny of these tales 
agrees, in a moat important point of view, 
with the manners and morals of the Arabs 
at the commencement of the tenth century 
of the FlighL This I regard as an argument 
of great weight, and especially satis&ctory 
as agreeing with tbe inference just before 
drawn. Ptfthly, from what I have stated in 
the note immediately preoeding, I Incline to 
the opinion thai few envies of this work, if 
any, were written until after tbe conquest of 
Egypt by the Turks : in other words, ibat 
tbe work was perhaps composed shortly be- 
fore tbe year 1617 of our era; but more pro- 
bablVi within ten or twenty years i^ter. Thts 
opinion, it should be remarked, respects es- 
pecially the tariff portion of the work, which 

• El M»fciMse*and Bl-bUkse. 



Arabian Nig\U. 


JB the lenBt likely to bave been iDlerpolated. 
BB later parts evidently have beeo. At ,the 
lost mentioned period, a native of Cairo (and 
Bucb I believe to have been the author of the 
principal portion of the work, if not of the 
whole) might, if about forty years of bm, re- 
tain a Bufficleot Tecollectionof the later Hem- 
look SultinB and of tbeir miniBters to de- 
scribe hia kings and courts vitbout the ne- 
cessity of consulting the writings of hislo- 
riaoB, which, probably, be was uDable to do; 
for from his iKDorance of chrooology, it ap- 
pears that bis koowledgQ of former times 
was not derired from the perusal of any ~" 
Eulaf record, but only from traditions 
from works like the present. As I proceed 
with my translation I shall frequently have 
occasion to revert to this subject, and may 
perhaps be enabled to form a more precise 
opinion than the one which I have here ex- 
pressed. I should have delayed theioserllon 
of the foregoing remarks, had i not consider- 
ed it a point of some iniporlance to suggest 
to the reader, as early as possible, that the 
manners and customs, and in general even 
tbe dresses and dwellings, described in most 
of the present tales, are those of a very late 
period. The lax stale of morals which ap- 
pears to hare prevailed among the Arabs m 
tbe lime ofour author, probably continued at 
least until the period when coffee became a 
common beverage, about the middle of the 
tenth century of the Flight (or near tbe mid- 
dle of the sixteenth century ofoor era,) and 
perbaps considerably later, until some years 
after the introduction of tobacco into tbe 
East."— Part v. pp. 307, 808. 

However disposed to praise the ingenuity 
of Mr. Lane, we are far from making so 
light aa he does of Schlegel's suggestion, and 
are equally convinced of its felicity and pro- 
bability. The word vama, or jihama, (var- 
nish T) is however not peculiar to the San- 
Bcrii, and is to be found in the common dia- 
lects also- But the division iolo four castes 
was not confined to Hindostan : it prevailed 
equally in Persia, in tbe reign of Oiamshid, 
t. e. tbe Noaobidffi, and in Chaldsa, and 
amongst the Sabnons and NabathBaos also. 
White, aa purity, was worn by the priesthood 
in Persia, aa among tbe Moslems of the pre- 
sent day : the red is evidently of the warrior 
class ; it was the distinguishing colour of the 
conqueror Tahmaras or Mars, as among tbe 
Spartans and English. The reader will re. 
call the remark of Pandarua in the Iliad as 
to the uDpainted Uood he had drawn from 
the Spartan Menelaus. Gour, or yellow, 
signifies also a husbandman, and, as applied 
to the Jews, an oulcasi. Inquiry might e!u< 
cidate tbe several appropriations. In Hin- 
dostan it is remarkable that the four colours 
specified are those chiefly worn, and it can- 
Dot be supposed an Egyptian Caliph's com- 
mands would b« tr«naraired to the remote 

Bast, and adopted by an unchangiDg race. 
It is far more probable that the Arabs adapt- 
ed a prevailmg custom of classification, bik- 
tatU mulanilii, as we know they borrowed 
tbe sacred green, Hohammedan, from the 
NahatbRaiis. ' 

We Bhall further observe that among the 
old Eastern tribes, as in Taiary to ibis 

we need hardly recall, in illustration, to the 
reader the scene in Ferdonsi's Shah Nameil, 
where the tents of the Persian leaders are 
distinguished by their particular coloars, 
black, yellow, green ("the colour of the 
Pure,") and red : the well-known distinc- 
tions of the black and tbe while banners of 
the caliphs originated in Persia, from their fa* 
milies ; and diatrictSi ss the Kara-bagh, still 
bear the denominations of colour. 

If the four colours were, as we imagine, 
symbolic of the four classes, or castes, into 
which society was divided in Persia, they 
could not have been more appropriately ar- 
ranged than in the tale, in an oider cor- 
responding with the relative estimation of 
those castes: and it is remarkable that they 
always throughout the story, though fre- 
quently repeated, appear in ibe aame suc- 
cession precisely. Ttie chance of four 
colours ranging thus coinddenliy once is 
Bufiicienily small, but the regular adherence 
to this arrangement eeems to mark, as well 
as tbeir exact number, something far more 
than casualty, and indeed to render this in 
the highest degree improbable, and incre- 
dulity more extravagant than belief 

Tbe origin of tbe four castes in India is 
coufassedly unknown; in Persia it is distinct- 
ly traced to the Noachidal dynasty, who in 
invenlioni, improvements, arts, civilisation, 
time, and duration of sovereignty, exactly 
coincide with tliat period of Peisiao history 
personified by the poetry of Ferdousi, as 
already observed, under tbe name of Giam- 
shid. This singular coincidence between 
the only extant narrative of the East, and 
the historians and writers of the West, cao 
never be too strongly insisted upon. Dis- 
guised OS facta must be when preserved 
only through the medium of tradition, we 
could scarcely hopea more dialinci reference 
through these tales to so remote and un- 
known an institution in a foreign and an. 
cient land : only the moat imperfect and 
broken hints could by passibiluy remain ; 
and these warped by the accidents to which 
we refer. That traditionary history has a 
decided tendency to turn to tbe marvellotiB 
is obvious from the northern traditions of 
Tbor, and a hundred others, transformed 
nursery tales even amoo^ the 

tales even amooc tl 
.tized by Google 


AraHati ftigUt.. 

direct deseendftDti of our Soandinavwii ftn. 
ceMors, rill JkcIc the Oiaot Killer, and other 
inbat narratires, are but miQiature edirions 
of the Bdda: and, alace thecoincideoces in 
these leave not a doubt of their cominoa 
origin, why should we leject thoie of the 
more obscure Bast ? 

It is remarkable too that the tale in quea- 
tion iapanicalariyapeoifiedasof oxanctent 
King and a physician of Roum. Why ihli 
afaould be confiaed to two or three hundred 
years, unless to square with another portion 
of Mr. Lane's hypothesis, wa cannot ima- 
^ne. His version expressly states that 
" there vraa in former times, in the country 
of the Persians, a monarch who was called 
King Yoonnn." 

The country then is decidedly establish. 
ed( and the name of Toouan recalls the 
ancient race, subsequeDtly known as the po- 
lished lonians of Asia Mioori and bearbg 
Blill in India that ancient denomination. No 
scholar can doubt the existence of the Scy- 
thian, i. e. Pfrrsian or Tatar, raca of the 
Ton! in remote antiquity; no reader, that 
the names of a tribe and its monarch were 
continually the same. In the land of Per- 
aia, in the time of the Yoni, or their de- 
Bcandants, while the appellation was still 
given to their king, we there find a regular 
division of the inhabitants into four colours, 
and that they were oppressed by a magi- 
cian. These circumstances strike us for. 
cibly, we mnst confess, as an incidental 
confirmation of the formation of the four 
castes in the early period and place alluded 
to, i. e. of the Noachidal Giamshid, and 
Persia. We have seen that in India their 
origin is unknown, 

Mr. Lane's hypothesis would account but 
for two of the colours; for as to theaasump- 
tion of white by the Moslems, it is not sin- 
gular: white is the symbol of the priestly 
race every where, — but in China. In an. 
cient Persia we learn the distinct historical 
oriKinatioD of the custom from Ferdousi. 

We know too that the Deev, or Magician 
race, modified if they did not overturn for a 
time the ancient system of Persia. In story, 
such acts are wrought by a single being. 
The king of the Four Islands (castes T) 
marries his cousin, a lady of great beauty ; 
SDch were the Peeris, inhabitants of Gin- 
nistan, near the Caucasian range, the en- 
lightened race with whom Tahmarus and 
Gustasp successfully contracted alliance. 
The interest of the story of course requires 
a lady; the historical fact runs naturally 
into fanciful distortion afier a lime. If a 
king was to be aided against his enemies, 
he becomea a beautiful princess, a Peri 
Marjan, to be rescued from hideous Gins. 

The DeevB or Sages, aocieot, enligfatsned, 
were called Peer, as welt as the lovely 
fairies, or Peeri. The figuraiireness of an 
oriental language produced this confusion. 
We have little doubt that the tale is but die. 
guised history, of the intrusion of the Deev 
race into Persia, requiring the ioterveDtion 
of another sovereign to restore the original 
state of things. 

We are greatly confirmed in this opinion 
by Iho story of Habibio the Arabian Tales, 
where a legend is distinctly preserved, a 
Persian origin and Persian locality confess- 
ed. The Gias settle and intermarry in the 
dominions of Schal Gloase. Is this the Ara- 
bic form. Shah al GawahT-— the celebrated 
Persian blacksmith leader, Gao, or Gawah, 
at once recurs to the mind. The scene 
is laid near Caucasus; the monarch is 
sovereign of the Black Island, like the un- 
happy half-marble king of the former story, 
and the Black Island (Eara-bagb, Kara, 
koum, dzc. 1) is the chief seat of his power. 
We find the allurements of women used to 
impede the hero, near Caucasus, like those 
of the enchantress 3usen, in Ferdousi. We 
find the favourite Persian number, seven, re- 
cur in every thing, seas, roads, &c. : of the 
roads the hero takes the Fourth. The six 
islands in the seven seas remind us of the 
Saca Dwipa, dzc. of Indian antiquity, and its 
climates ; tales of Mount Meru confessedly 
brought down from remotest ages, and of the- 
seat of the, ancient Deevs. These six isl- 
ands loo are distinguished by their different 
colours, black, white, green, yellow, red, and 
blue, and which had been successively seized, 
especially the Black Island, by the rebel 
Abarikaf, the Abari of Kaf, or Scythians of 
Caucasus. Like the Deevs these monsters 
ai« represented as highly civilized ; for th^ 
refuse to combat with Habib because he la 
not fully armed. We deem this evidence of 
coincidences, taken with the preceding, per- 
fectly conclusive as to Persian originatioo of 
at least (he two tales in question, and their 
historical development. Were not theae 
Deev conquerors, the Kaianides I 

We do not, however, feel the slightest 
doubt but that the expedition of Habib 
to rescue the besieged princess, Dorathil- 
Goase, is merely the partial adaplalion to 
Arabia of a Persian or Tstar exploit in fo. 
vour of a captive king. Habib is an old 
Tatar name. 

An extract from Mr. Lane will assist our 
opinion as to colours and origination, and 
our theory of changes — in Persia, places are 
designated by diflerent colours, as the Yel- 
low mountain, Black mountain, iec. : — 

" One of the two stories which I have ex- 
tracted fhtm it, that of Tij el-Hulook and 

I ctizedbyGoOgIC 

Anbia» NtgkU. 


tbe IaiIj Dunytw bean apparent indicatioM 
of B PeraiBii orjgia ; but in their presenl 
stBt«, the nunoera biuI customi Sea. which 
botb exhibit are Arab. Tbe acenea of the 
BTenta oarrated in the bMotj of T£j el-Hulook 
are in Persia and, probaEly, in India ; but 
imaginarr name* appear to be ^iven to the 
•everal kingdoms meationed In it : the Uog- 
dom of £I-Ard El-Khadra (the Green Coun- 
try] and EI-'Amodeyn (which aigniflet the 
Two Columns) ia aaid to include the moun- 
tains of iBpaban, and its locality is thereby 
aiifficiently indicated : that of El-Ard El- 
Beyda (the While CouDtry) I suppose to be 
in Persia or India : aad as to the Islands of 
Camphor, I fancy we must be content to 
consider tbemva^elv aa appertaining to In- 
dia : the country Tn wbjob ' Azeez andAzee- 
zah' resided is said to hare been near to the 
Islanda of Camphor ; but their story ia per- 
fectly Arab." 

As to the title of Sultan, it would surely suf- 
fice to have prevailed in Egypt, for an author 
so ignorant as to place SuTlans there in El 
Rashid's time. It seems strange, too, to lie 
down an ancient king to about two centu- 
ries ; why not ten 1 Thi 
rals of the Arabs at a particular time Mr. 
Lane, from his experience, can doubtleas de- 
termine far better than most men, but cbd 
he point out that they were not Inrrowcd 
from oiher nations, and merely preserved. 
Dot bestowed by the graphic writer on his 
tale ? All hiB argumenta, we submit, 
only bear out the collation and editing, i 
say, of the tales; assuredly not, to ihe best 
of our judgment, their origin. 

We have more than once on this as 
former occasions supported our opinions by 
tbe testimony of the Arabian historian, Ma- 
Boudi, and whom in all that relates lo Per- 
sian antiquity we look upon as utterly unri- 
Talled amongst his countrymen; since, in 
total ignoraDce necessarily of much of the 
traditionary times — if such they really were, 
which we greatly question — of Persian his- 
tory, his testimony is ever borne out by the 
facts, which come one by one, and at long 
intervals, regarding that primsval country. 
Wo are therefore nappy to find, in a most 
able artisle in the Alhenffium (No. 573} the 
extract of a passage from that valuable writ- 
er which is not usually met with in hia 
works ; which, though regarded by some as 
an interpolation in one copy, could yet hnrd- 
ly have been extended, and without any ob- 
ject, to a second ; which confirms the im- 
pression of Von Hammer as to the Persian 
origin of the Thousand and Onej and which 
finally is itself confirmed by the 
covery of that learned German. We quote 
I he passage. 

"These, and other parlicnlan, may be 


read in the work of Ubeyd Iba Shooyab, 
which la in everybody'a bands, and haa ac- 
quired great celebrity ; although, it ia true, 
tliat persons versed in these matters all 
agree in opinion that these accounts are 
taken from books of tales and fables compo*. 
ed by men, who by learning them by heart, 
and reciting them in the presence of their 
sovereigns, tried to insinuate thenuelTes in 
their favour, and rite in honour and com- 
mand, in one word, that they are similar 
to those books imported among us, and trans- 
lated into Arabic from the Persian, Hindos- 
tanee and Greek languages, and the compo- 
sition of which has the same origin as we 
have already shown. As, for instance, th« 
book entitled ' Hezar Efsanefa,' which means 
in Arabic the book of the thousand tales, for 
^utnA in Persian has tbe same meaning aa 
OUT word khar^ah In Arabic^ — that is lo say, 
a tale, a pleasant and amusing story. This 
book (Ihe^ Hezar Eftaneh') is commonly call- 
ed among us the book of ' The One Thousand 
and One Niebts,' and it contains tbe adven- 
tures of a king and his vizier,* as well aa 
those of bis daughter <tbe vizier's) and her 
nurse; the names of theee two being Shir- 
ixid and Duni&z&d. Another book of thi* 
kind, is that of Wiredahf t,ad 8himdt,ia 
which the adventures of certain kings of 
India with their viziers, are related; the 
book of Sindabfid, and many others of the 
same kind."— Altoneum, Oel. 13, 1S8S, p. 

Masoudi wrote about the SSOth HeglrSt a. 
D. 042 ; but of course it is not to be imagin- 
ed that the Hezar BSmneh, even if the un. 
doubted labour or compilation of Queen Ho 
mai, and therefore Bubsisting for above l*ij00 
years, could possibly be the aamo as any 
present MS. uf the Arabian Nights' Enter- 
tainments. Yet the introductory tale as no. 
liccd, in Masoudi, diSsrs little from that in 
our prefenl version. And the story of Sin- 
dabad is found in the Calcutta edition exhi- 
bited at the head of this article, and also 
in Torrens's translation. Slill, generally 
speaking, not only most naa>es, but also 
scenes and customs, have undergone very 
considerable change in the transfer, and ac- 
cording lo the fancies of recitera for the peo- 
ple, who were certainly not so faithful as the 
historical Rouwah, or Oral historians ; and 
in forgetting, rejecling, embellishing, or add- 
ing to tbe various narratives, witliout any 
transcript to verify the original stories, thus 
abandoned to the license of hundreds and 
thousands of those reciters, they must have 
inevitably aasumed a totally difr«;<ent aspect 
from what they were before reduced to writ. 

t tn somB copies of MasMidl tfak name is Jil. 


1839. AraHan NigkU, 

ing. This artr it w true, existsd long before 
Abibainmed in Arabw, but ooly among the 
learned i inMinuah tbOt the very historical 
traditioiis we have alluded to were only 
cocannilted to paper ia Ibe reigD of the cele- 
brated HarouD. The " Tbowaiid and Ooe" 
then would of coursesnume « for later data 
and ooty after the major points of cosiume 
and manners were bopeleaaly altered la Ara- 
Inc ; though the introductory narrative, re- 
taining tbe original Persiaa namest as given 
by Masoudi, indicates, ws think, beyond a 
question and unsuspiciously, the native 
country of the collection. That such tales 
existed in Persia long before Arabia, is proy. 
ed by the dread expressed by M&hommed of 
their influence over his Arabs: but ever 
supposing that in the limes of Mansour, Ra^ 
shid, or Maimoun, a direct tnnslation had 
been made by the sovereign's command of 
the fascinatinff Persian abominalion, the pau- 
city and antiquity of such copies, together 
with the ravages of the Caliphs' libraries, 
would leave not a hope of obtaining these 
undiluted tran^atioos. On the other hand 
foreign scenes snd manners, that would not 
be readily understood by the unlettered, idle 
and impatient audiences of Arabian cofiee. 
houses, would compel the Maddah to stop 
every instant to explain their bearing, and 
destroy their interest and his own with the 
public. Thus too the novels of Soolt, one 
at least of which wa are told by a recent 
traveller he heard recited in that land as an 
Arabian Nights' Bntertainmeni, must under- 
go complete alteration in the process, and 
soon become unrecognizable at home. 

These objections, we submit, are- quite as 
probaUe as the general theories of De Sa- 
cy and Lane : and if any doubt exist, we re- 
fer directly to the story-tellers of Hindoslan, 
tbe costumes and circumstances of whose 
narratives differ perpeiuslly from those of 
Arabia, even when the grouod-work is the 
same, and from the same obvious necessity 
of rendering the tale intelligible lo the imme- 
diate hearers. Wehave noticed loo at times 
that the same tale, in the mouth of the same 
speaker, has more than ooce lost its princi- 
pal attributes, and assumed o:hers totally 
foreign, 'while no efforts sufficed lo recall the 
lapsed passages to the treacherous memory 
of the speaker ; neither dread of anger nor 
bops of reward. 

Tales among early and ignorant nations 
would be of nftiive not foreign growth ; of 
native traditiods or histories, and native 
names of course. They who borrowed ihe 
tales, as the Arabians certainly did, would 
yet adapt the costumes to ilieir own habits 
in order to become ialelligible at home, wiiich 
would not be Ihe case with the names. Wc 

submit, therefore, in direol converse of Da 
Sacy, that tbe names have been praservedf 
not borrowed,— which would be unnecessary 
—and the locality and maimers gradually 
and necessarily changed. 

The German edition at the bead of oar 
article is tofceii from a MS. of evidently 
doubtful BUthenticiiy, if we may so apply tbe 
term ; for it contains on the thirteenth, four, 
leenth, and subsequent nights, tbe story of 
The Forty Viziers, Sheikh Chehab-edeen* 
&c., usually included in the Turkish tales. 
The verses throughout are closely sad care- 
fully given, but in these also the original is 
' * ' . A slight prefacSfOf little preteu' 
sioD to acumen or novel information, gives 
an outline of GaJlaod's biography. The ex- 
trecne beauty and spirit of the numerous 
wood.cutH is the chief merit of this work, 
and they are such, as even alone, to render 
it a desideratum ; the typography is also of 
a high order. 

Mr. Lane's edition is universally known; 
its illustrations are so exquisite, and so wildly 
fanciful, appearing absolutely as the very 
dreams of the reader's own imagination spon- 
taneouly wrought into shape, and fantasti- 
cally weaving them adown the margin as he 
reads the tale, that it ia difficult (o imagine a 
more pleasing or more perfect delusion than 
the graceful forms into which the pencil is 
running, constautly giving to unformed and • 
embryo conception, the force and finish of 
reality. But of the notes that fallow and il- 
lustrate every chapter, and which const iluie 
the real value of the book, it is impossible to 
speak too highly. The learned editor's inti- 
mate knowledge of Arabian manners, feel- 
ings, and prejudices ; his thorough acquaint, 
once with the language and character of the 
natives; the facilities of communication ha 
possessed with the latter, during his long so- 
journ in Eg>'pt : and the just confidence he 
hes won by his Description of its Modem 
Stale, nil combine to render him the fittest 
perhaps of any man living for the task he has 
!o ably executed : it would seem as if tbe 
work and the translator were made express, 
ly for esch other ; and henceforth only those 
who would be ignorant of the Arabian 
Nights, can be ignorant of Mr, Lane's anno* 

The felicity with which the oriental style 
has been preserved throughout this Ironsla. 
tion is another of its singular merits ; it it 
always imaginative yet always simple, so as 
to impress the reader with tbe character of 
the original, but never to fatigiie his patience 
nor outrage his belter taste ; for it has no af. 
feclation. We become in the perusal half 
orientaiized, and therefore more capable of 
underslandinc and enjoyinc the niceties of t 


Arabia* IHghu. 


orleDtal feeling io theM oriental tales. The 
poetry with which tbay are interapereed 
througboul, is often exquisitely beautiful ; 
and its delicata turas of thought, and the full, 
warm glow of Arabian imagiDation and ex- 
preniuQ, are given with a happiness and fi- 
delity that leave us only to regret that Mr. 
Lane should have at all curtailed the 

The MS. of the Thousand and One, used 
forlhia edition, is undoubtedly, from all that 
has appeared, one of the best extaot ; and 
this is obvious in spite of the careful elision 
of every passage llut ia Galland's, the usu- 
al tranBlatioQ, ofieods and paias by its ori- 
ental groaanesB. Divested of every iadelica- 
cy, these delightful tales now contain nothing 
that can deter the purest or the most fastidi- 
ous fVom perusal : the edition is a public 
service, not national only because universal, 
from the universality of the tales. And when 
itisconsidered how iafluentialthey have been, 
as we have already pointed oui, in and from 
the very nursery, the efiect of this purity up- 
on every class of readers will be easily ima- 

The work of Mr. Torrens m a very close 
translation of the Cslcutta edition, published 
from, in our opinion, the best MS. of the 
Thousand and One that is yet known, for 
the MSS. of this work iothe British Museum 
do not seem to have attracted the attention 
they deserve. They are far superior to the 
Breslau. From its extreme fidelity, there- 
fore, as well as from the value of the origin- 
al, this work is an acquisition to the libraries 
of the curious. Almost every word is pre- 
served, but the offensive portions are sufli^ 
ciently modified to be divested of their inde- 
cency. The reader ia conaequemly let into 
some curious particulars, one or two of which 
we shall notice as we proceed. The poetry 
is preserved entire, but, unlike Mr. Lane's, 
is unfortunately rendered into verse, and this 
by no means of the best order, generally 
speaking ; its style, in fad, is so utterly Eu- 
ropean and English, to say nothing of nam. 
by-pamby, as not only to obscure the original 
verse continually, but also to break up all 
the Eastern associations oflht! really literal 

Erose with a singularly disagreeable efTect. 
; is eniiiely out of place, out of taste, and 
out of character; and we trust in the next 
edition to see it restored to prose like Mr. 
Lane's. We say like Mr. Lane's, for in 
general Mr. Torrens' prose is antiquated 
and quaint, not to say uncouth. With all 
these faults, and they are easily corrected, 
the work is valuable; and for the Ambisn 
Nights as they are really written the curious 
and scientific must recur to Mr, Torrens' 
trans lal ion. 

While on this subject we must agtun no- 
tice that the oamea of Shuhurzad and Dun. 
yazad, as given by Masoudi, are preserved 
in this version (tlie Calcutta MS.) and that 
the story of SingSindabad is also contained 
in it, though it does not appear in Mr. Lane'9 
edition : this coincidence may go some way 
to connect the existing collections with the 
old Persian Hezar Efsaneh, or Thousand 
and One. To return to an idea we threw 
out near the beginning of this article, it wilt 
be singular if the influence of these popular 
but fanciful tales should lead learned curios- 
ity to examine the authenticity of more sen* 
ous and recondite works with greater close* 
ness than heretofore. 

We cannot quit this point of antiquity 
without observing that much very curious 
matter regarding Oriental antiquity may be 
anticipated from the book of f ahrest, the moat 
ancient History of Arabian Literature, dsied 
about A. n. 980, and of which the great ori- 
ental biographer, Hadgi-Chalib, knew only 
the table of contents. 

R«garding this work we particularly ob- 
serve that one of the sections at least turns 
almost entirely upon the now unknown doc- 
trines of the Nabathfeans, the undoubted au- 
thors of the famed works on Hermetic phi- 
losophy, so long lost to the world ; and the 
recovery of which would probably supply the 
grand data of Egyptian and other antiquity. 
In the section alluded to we notice aroong 
other, though less interesting, matter, a por. 
tion referring to " the Calling oftheJews." 
It Would be curious to learn how profane 
' antiquity regarded that important and myste- 

The two last l>ooks of the Pabrest contain 
also an account of (he different sects and re- 
ligions, particularly the Manichsans and the 
Nabalhesans, their festivals, chie^, and liter- 

As a pendant to the foregoing we may ob- 
serve, that among the notices of books in the 
possession of the late Jonatbao Dancan, 
Esq., of Bombay, npnears one of " Pour 
Books of the Sabceans. We trust eflbrls 
will be made to recover this MS. in spite of 
the general scepiicism that exists as to the 
value and antiquity of similar remains. Till 
such are fairly examined, and in a less dog^ 
matic tone than prevailed upon former occa- 
sions, it will surely be impossible to determine 
to what discoveries and elucidations their 
contents may lead. 

We have noticed the wide diflerence of 
the Glerman (Edition from the others. In ibe 
versions of Lane and Torrens (and little 
more than the first volume of either of 
the three is yet published) the stories are 
nearly the saroe. Out of the twenty-four 

Arabian Ifi^m. 

given in the latter ceDtlemsn's volume, there 
are bul three, viz. The Bullock and the Ass, 
King Sundubad, and Oomr Bio Nainen and 
hia two HoM, which diSer from Mr. Laoe's, 
who «veB ia their >tead, the Husband and 
the P&rrol, Tajel-Hulook and the liiid; 
Dunya, and Azeez and Azeezeb. His col- 
lection alao contains thestory of Ala^>deeD 
Abu'sh-ahi-aiBt, not in Torreoa', bul found 
in Weber's collection, (Vol. ii.) in the Ap- 

Our extracts will be chiefly from two sto- 
ries; The Three Ladies of Bagdad sad 
the Porter, and Nourreddin and the fair 

Of Mr. Torrens' exactitude we shall give 
some specimens, and coniinencB appropri- 
ately with oue of the highest importance to! 
our earliest tastee ; a passage fit in every 
seaae for collation by our nursery critics. 

"So be lifted the hamper and folloved 
her until she stopped at the shop of a sweet- 
meat-setler, and she bought an earthen dish, 
and laid on it of all that was in bis shop,' 
either cross barred, or cake sweetmeats,! 
scented with musk, and soapcakes, (!) and 
lemon drops, and ladies' kisses, and Zee-, 
Dab's combs, and ladies' finRers,andoflhe| 
large sweetmeats called the kazee's mouth- 
fuls, and took of all sorts of sweetmeats, on | 
the dish." — p. 75. i 

The next passage a fiords a picture for the j 

•'Then looked the porter for her whoj 
opened the gateto the damsel, and lo ! she 
was in stature just five cubits, of prominent 
and fleshy figure, a very queen of beauty [ 
and ofelegance, of fairness, and ofperfec- 1 
tloD, and she had hit the very mean of beuu-' 
ty : her forehead glossy, and her face ofi 
ruddy hue, and her eyes tike lo those of the 
wild cow and the ghuzul, and hereyebrows! 
like the bow of the firvt day's moon of the . 
month Shubkn, and her cheeks like anemo-j 
nies, and her mouth small as the ring of > 
Booleiman, and her lips red as coral, anil ' 
her teeth like stringed pearls and the white 
camomile, and her throat like the antelope's, 
and her bosom sloping as a penthouse, and 
her breast like two unripe pomegranates, 
and her body decked in damask silk ; as 
the poet has said of her: 
" 'Behold the sun, and full orbed moon 

That lighten all this ptacel 
How delicate her chiselled brow, 

How cheery bright her face I 
Your eyes have never yet beheld 

Jet black contrast with white, 
As when her forehead and her hair, 

In mingled charms unite. 
A name peculiar must be found . 

For loveliness so rare; 
Alas for me 1 ye roseate cheeks ! 

1 have no portion there! 


She walked j and stUl ftoro aide to side 

She swayed her gncefiiliy; 
I laughing watched those jutting hips, 

So Ktrangely fair to see 1 
But gazing on her slender waist 

I wept in very fear 
To think so delicate a thing 

Should such a burthen bear-' "— pp- 76i 77- 

The third lady is thus described. 

" And there appeared at their entry a 
damsel of beaming countenance, and gen. 
tie cheerful beauty, and tutored manners, 
with moon-formed shape, attd eyes fraught 
as with Babylonian witchcraft, and the 
bows of the eye-brows tike the bend of a 
river, and her stature straight as the letter 
Alif, and the odour of her breathing as am> 
bergris, and her lips cornelian coloured, 
sugar sweet, and her face fit to shame the 
light of the bright sun, and she was even as' 
one of the constellations from on high, or 
a dome worked with gold, or a bride dress- 
ed for her bridegroom, or an Arab maiden 
not twenty years of age, as the poet sung 
of her when he said : — 
" ' Or well strung pearls, or frost-white hafl, 

or bloaaoms of tlie camomile 
Are what, for so indeed (hey seem, she 

shows us in her smile ; 
The tressed ringlets of her hair hang down 

her shoulders dark as night. 
And the glad radiance of her charms might 
shame the morning light.' "—p. 77. 

Having given these two specimens of suf- 
ficiently indilTercm verse to bear out uur 
criiicisms, we shall make the reader amends 
by an extract of extreme simplksity and 


To meet with thee is Paradise ; 

But oh ! eternal agonies 

Are mine when thou art gone. 

The madness of my love shall last 

Till all ihe days of lime be past ; 

Ne'er will I shame to say, 

How love the curtain rent apart 

That o'er my maiden face was cast. 

How, when affection warmed my heart 

He lore my veil away. 

■' When wilder slili my longing grew. 

And passion fill'd my breast, 

Care round my form her mantle threw, 

And then I pined, and then I knew 

The reason stood confess'd. 

When down my cheeks stream'd many a tear. 

My love was told, my secret clear 

By evidence of these ; 

Oh ! heal the pangs that I endure I 

In thee the bane, and bliss appease. 

For whoso trusts to thee for cure 

Can never hope for ease. 

" Those brighl-lash'd eyes have caused my 

And 1 must yield my breath, 



By thttcridadgBiof aliMnpe«l»in; 

Bow many & prituM, like Noplc ■naio, 

Tb&t blade hm done to d«atii I 

Vet ne'er will I my iove forego ; 

Love is the eulf Iftw I teiew, 

Hy hope ! my comfort 'itiU I 

Ah 1 proaperoiM day, wfasn oa thee fint 

ThaMeyes thairglutceeduiiced to tkrenr: 

Henceforth my heart in lore immerBed 

Was bondBirorD to hit will."— pp. 91, 92- 

Our worthy friend, tbe Porter of Bagdad, 
certainly ^ imo pjessant oooipanyt aa we 
knew from tbe older Tar«ioM ; but we never 
■uspected that'the gaiety was carried so for 
as we find it now. 

" Then the damsel took the cup, and dratik 
it off, and sat down with her slaters, And they 
ceased not drinkingi and the porter in the 
midst of them ; ana they kept oa with dance 
and laugh, and Bonxs and verses, and Jin- 
gling uDHgramsj andthe porter was going on 
with them, with quips, and kiaavs, and cranks, 
and tricks, and pinches, and girls' play, and 
romping; this one giving him a dainty mouth- 
ful, and that one thumpmg him, and that one 
slapping his cheeks, and this serving per- 
fumes to him ; and he was wilh tbopi In the 
height of joy, even as if he were sitting in the 
■evenih Heaven among the houris of Para- 
dise; and they stayed not doing after this 
manner, until the wines played in their heads 
and in their senses. Now when the wine 
got the better of them, the portress stood up, 
and look off some of her upper clothes, and 
she was unveiled, and she let Sow a tress 
about her, aa it were a garment, and she 
threw herself into (he tank, and played with 
the water, and dived, and jumped up, and 
took the water in her mouto, and spirted it 
et the porter." — p- 82. 


is rather an odd 

1 hia IS rather an oOd amusement lor 
ters in Paradise, and does not squai 
entirely with the gravity ofOriental maj 
as we were tempted lo imagine : the 
nuation Is still worse. 

" So she bathrd, and washed herself, end 
then came out of the waler, and sat by the 
side of the porter, and said, ■ Now, my mus- 
ter, now my fine fellow;' and she asked him 
a riddle. So the porter said this, and that, 
and auHwered impudenily, and she said, 'Hal- 
lo 1 are you not oshamedl' And she seized 
him by tbe neck, and beat bim heartily. So 
he said again in like manner, and she struck 
him another slap on the back of his neck, 
and cried, ' How, how, you wretch ! are you 
not ashamed V So he said it again, and she 
cried, ' Oh you 1 have you no shame in your 
talkingl' So she thumped him with her 
hand, and beat him. Bui the porter made a 
Mill worse answer, and she set upon bim with 
■till greater beating and said, 'No!* and be 
•aid, "Tis sol' and the porter went on call- 
ing what bethought tbe answer of the riddle, 
and they beat bun tbe more, and be was in 

M»te. Oct. 

ao oihar plight dtw with im neck swelled 
with blows; and they laughed mors and 
more among themselves, uiitil he said, 'And 
what is the answer to the riddle amons yoit 
women V'^pp. 82,83. ■ 

He riddle, though omitted by tbe tnn. 
lalor, is evidently none of ttn most delicate : 
before it is aolved, 

" The (second) damsel took off ber tipper 
clothes, and cast herself into the tank, and 
dived and sported about, and bathed : then 
looked the porter upon her unveiled, as If she 
were a firagmont of the moon ber face like 
the moon when at the fiiil, and like the dawn 
when at tlie briehiest ; and he looked on her 
fair Btalore, and her shape, and that massive 
figure that quivered as she went ; and she 
was unveiled, even as when her mother bore 
ber, and be began to address her extempo- 
raneously : — 

' If I thy beauteouB form, my fair, 
Bhould to the date-tree bough compare, 
Sure envious spite 'gainst ehanns so rare 

Would o'er my heart prevail ; 
The,date-tree bough is fkireet seen, 
Enveloped in Its lea (^ soreen, 
But thou art lairest far, I ween. 

When seen without a veiL' 

" Now when the damsel heard his verse, 
■he came up from the tank, and went and sat 
by his side, and said, ' Now, my master.' And 
she asked bim again the same riddle." — 
p. 84. 

" Then the cup passed round among them 
a full hour, until the porter stood up, and 
went down into the tank ; and thev looked 
at bim, swimming in the water, and ne bathed 
in like manner as thej did. Then be came 
up and threw hiraseu among them, and said, 
* Now, my mistresses ;' and asked them a rid- 
dle : and they all laughed at his riddle, till 
their beads fell on their shoulders ; and one 
said. This, and the other. That, and be said 
'No,' and took forfeits from each one of them 
for tneir foolish answers." — pp. 64, 86. 

the English reader. Mr. Lane gives u 
little room to suspect these excesses. 

We give ail instance of detail from the 
Calcutta translation, as contrasted with Mr. 
Lane's, showing the value of the former, as 
an index of peculiarities. 

« Not loD| after this, tbe 'Efreet said lo tbe 
Jinneeyeb, Arise, and place thyself beneath 
the youth, and let us convey him back, lest 
the morning overtake us ; for the time is near- , 
So she advanced towards him, and, placing ' 
herself beneath his skirt, as he lay asleep, 
took htm up, and flew away with bim. In the 
state in which she found him. dad (»1]^ in .his 

AraHan KghU. 


shtrtt BDd puTBued her flight with ibe 'Efreet 
bjr her side. But Ood gave permlaaion to 
some angels to cast at the 'Efreet n shooting 
Blar of fire, and be was burnt. The Jinnee- 
Teh, huwever, escaped unhurt, and deposited 
Beilr ed-Deen in the place over which the 
shtxtting star had burnt the 'Sfrcet- She 
would net pass bej^ond it, fearing for his 
safety ; and as destiny tiad atipointed, this 
place was Dantascus: so she placed him by 
one of the pi tea of this city, Kod flew away." 
-~Lant, p. 380. 

" But inr what befel in the matter of the 
Ufreet, surely he said to the female Ufreet, 
' Arise, and get in under the youth, and let 
us lalce him back to his place, for that the 
dawn may avise ua of its coming, and sure 
the time is near.' Upon that the female 
Ufreet came forward, and crept in under his 
garment skirt, and he sleeping ; so she took 
Dim, and flew with him, and even as he was, 
in his under garment, and without upper 
clothes ; aad the female Ufreet gave not 
over flying with him, and the Ufreet vying 
with her in speed, and the dawn avised them 
' that it was come in the middle of the day, 
and the Moouszine called aloud the summons 
to the Asvltim of Good. Then' the Almighty 
commanded bis angels to cast at the Ufreet 
a meteor of fire; so he was consumed, but 
the female Ufreet was pre^rveil ; and she 
descended with Budur ood Deen at the place 
where the meteor smote the Ufreet, and did 
not go back with him to Bussoroh, fearing 
for his sake. And it so was by the order oT 
God's decree that they arrived at Damascus 
of Syria, and the femaleUfreet laid him down 
at a gale of tlie city portits, and flew away-" 
— Tbrreni, pp. 223, 224. 

In the story of Noor-cd-deen, Mr. Lane's 
version omits an amusing incongruity. The 
chamberlain, who recommends him to fly 
for his life, observes — " Oh ! my master, 
this is not a time for salutation nor for talk- 
ing :" which was scsiccly doublful : but in 
Mr. Turrcns' volume this anxious ofiicial adds 
to his previous remark a singular illustration 
of his own opinion as to the value of time at 
that moment. , 

"Oh! my masler, this is not the time for 
greeting, nor for words : listen to what the 
poet saith ;— 

" Fly, fly with thy life, if by ill overtaken I 

Let thy house speak thy death by its builder 
forsaken ! 

For a land else than this land thou may'st 
reach, my brother. 

But thy life lost, thou'll ne'er find in this 
world another. 

Howl who'd livewith the roof ofbiswrelch- 
edaess o'er him. 

And the great earth of Ood broad outspread- 
ing before him 1 

■ Th«sa UrreaU, like oat own, ought el«si1j, 
tram this, lo hsvs gone home earlisT m the monu 
iog, sad befom pnyar-lime. 

VOL. XXir. 13 

When the theme's life ani death, lo no agent 

confide it. 
For life cares for itself, as none else does be- 
Ne'er could prowl the grown lion with mane 

roughly sweeping. 
Did he trust in his need save himself for safe 

keeping." — p. 379, 

We lake a couplet from Mr. Lane to show 
the superiority of his system of literal and 
tasteful prose over this crude poetry of his 
competitor : the thought we conceive ex> 
qutsitely beautiful in itself, and Mr. Iianu'a 
words do it the fullest justice. 

She bade me farewell on the dsyofsepsra. 
tion, saying, while she wept, from the pain 
that il occasioned, 
What wilt thou doafter my departure!— Say 
this, I replied, u-ito bim who will survive 
il."— p. 470. 

The graceful pathos of this shrouded in- 
timation is poorly compensated by the ob- 
scurity of iho Calcutta translator's rhyme. 

" She bade farewell upon our pariing day. 
And in love's anguish shed full many a tear ; 
' What wilt thou do T she cried, ' when I am 

away V 
Ask Ihem,' I said, 'could live, and thou not 

here.'"-— p. 898. 

The whole of the following is, if possible, 
n even worse taste, 

■ Ob, meni will not one true friend 'mongst 

you all, 
Wail o'er my state, and answer to my call ! 

__] ! Thou who didst create the chosen Ho, 
The Guide, chief Inieroessor, Mighty Sea 
Of Love, the charged with the glad ministry. 
Oh ! free me, 1 beseech my fault forego, 
And drive far hence, mine evil, and my 
woe !"— -p. -ItM- 

We shall in justice to Mr. Lane give two 
specimens from his notes as evincing his 
power of Eastern illustration ; the first ia 
on nrmour. 

'' The prophet David is said to have been 
the first person who monufaolured coats of 
mail ; and the cause of his applying himself 
to the art was this.—' He used lo go forth in 
disguise ; and when he found any people 
ivho knew bim not, lie approached tliem 
and asked ihem respecting the conduct of 
D&ood (or David), and they praised him 
and prayed for him; but one day as he 
was asking questions respecting himself 
as usual, Ood sent to liirn an ougel in the 
form of a human being, who ssid, ' An ex- 
cellent man were Daood if he did not take 
from the public treasury :'— whereupon the 

* heart of D&ood was contracted, and he 
beeged of God to render him independent: 
so ne made iron soft to bim, and it became 
in hia handa ea thread; and he uaed to 
•ell It coat of mail Tor four thousand [piecea 
of money — whether gold or silver Is not 
said], and with part of this he obtained 
food Ibr himselfi and part he gave in alma, 
and with part he fed his family.'— Hence 
an excellent coat of mail Is often called bv 
the Arabs ' D&oodee,' 1. 1. 'Davidean-' This 
kind of armour is worn by some Arabs 
of the Desert in the present day ; but 
the best specimenM I believe, are mostly 
found in India. Burckhardt mentions one 
tribe of Arabs who have about twenty-five ; 
another, two hundred ; and two otliers. be- 
tween thirty and fort^. 'The dora [pro- 
perly dlrft or dai&] is,' he remarks, 'of 
two sorts, one covering the whole body 
lilie a long sown from tne elbow, over the 
shoulders, down to the knees : this is the 
■irgh : the other, called kemb&z. cot ers the 
body only to the waist ; the arms from the 
elbows downwards beinf; covered with 
two pieces of steel, fitting into each other, 
with iron fingers. Thus clad, the Arab 
completes his armour by putting on his 
bead an iron cap (tis), w hich is but rarely 
adorned with feathers. The price of a 
coat of mail fluctuates from two hundred 
to fifteen hundred piastres. . . . Those of 
the best quality ore capable of resisting a 
ball ;' the coat of mail Is sometimes worn 
within the ordinary outer tunic." 

Ilie second is on a more delicate sub. 

"One simple mode of secret conversa- 
tion or correspondence Is by substituting 
certain tetters for other letters. 

■■ Many of the women are said to be 
adepts In this art, or science, and to con- 
Tey messages, declaiations of love, &c., by 
means of fruits, Bowers, and other emblems. 
The iifability of numbers of remaies in fa- 
milies to write or read, as well as the diffi- 
culty or impossibility frequently existing 
of conveying written letters, may have 
given rise to such modes of communication. 
Lady Hary Worlley Montagu, in one of 
her charming letters from the East, has 

Stratified out curiosity by a Turkish Jove- 
etier of this kind. A specimen of one 
from an Arab, with Its answer, may be 
here added.— An Arab'lovcr sent to his 
mistress a fan, a bunch of flowers, a silk 
tasseli some sugar-candy, and a piece of 
a chord of a musical instrument ; and she re- 
turned for answer, a piece of an aloe- plant, 
three black cumln-secds, and a piece of a 
plant used in washing. His communication 
IS thus inierpreted. The fan, being called 
■mirwahah,' a word derived from a root 
which has amonp its meanings that of 
' going to any place in the evening' signi- 
fied his wish to pay her an evening viaii: 
the flowers that the interview should be in 
her Karden: the tassel tieingcalled 'ahurr&- 
beh,^ that they should sharftb (or wine) : 

ArMan Tfighli. Oct. 

the sugar-candy, being termed 'wkkar 
neb&t,' and neblit, also signifying 'we will 
paw thenigbt,' denoted bisdesire to remain 
in her company until iheipomJDg: and the 
piece of a chord, that they shouid be enter* 
tained by music. The interpretation of her 
answer Is as follows. The piece of an aloe- 
plant which is called ' sabb&rah' (from 
' sabr,' which signifies * patience' — because 
it will live for manv months together with- 
out water), implied that he must wait : the 
three black cumin-seeds explained to him 
that the period of delay should be three 
nights: and the plant used in washing in- 
formed him that she should then have gone 
to the bath, and would meet him.— I have 
omitted one symbol in the lady's answer, 
as it conveys an allusion not so consistent 
with European as with Arab notions ol fe- 
male delicacy. 

"The language of flowers em plojred by 
the Turks does not exactly agree with the 
system illustrated in the story of ' Azeez 
and Azeezeb ;' for the former consists of a 
collection of words and phrazes or senten- 
ces which rhyme with the names of the ob* 
jecis used as the signs. This system is also 
employed by the Arabs ; but 1 believe not 
so commonly as the other. 

■' A remarkable faculty is displayed by 
:aome Arabs in catching the meaning of 
j secret signs employed in written communi- 
cations to them ; such signs being often used 
In political and other intrigues. The fol- 
lowing isa curious instance.— The celebrat- 
ed poet £1-Huianebbee, havinor written 
some verses in praise of Kifoor El-lkhsbee- 
dee, the independent Governor of Egypt, 
was obliged to flee, and 'bide himself in a 
distant town. K&foor was informed of his 
retreat, and desired his secretary to write to 
bim a letter promising him pardon, and 
commanding him to return ; but told the 
writer at the same time, that when the 
poet came be would punish him. The 
secretary was a friend of the poet, and, being 
oblieed to read the letter to the Prince when 
he had written it, was perplexed how to 
convey to El-Mntaoebbee some indication 
of ihe danger that awaited him : he could 
only venture todo soin the^exterior address ; 
and having written thin in the usual form, 
commencing 'In sh&a.lUb' (if it be the will 
of God) ' this shall arrive, ^., he put a 
small mark of reduplicution over the 'n' in 
the first word, which he thus convened Into 
'Inna;' the final vowel being understood. 
The poet read the letter, and was rejoiced to 
see a promise of pardon ; but on looking a 
second time at the address, was surprised to 
observe the mark of reduplication over the 
' n.' Knuwine the writer to be his friend, 
he immediatefy suspected a secret meaning, 
and rigbtlyconceived that the sign conveyed 
an allusion to a passage in the Cur-4n com- 
mencing with the word 'Inna,' and this he 
divined to tie the following:-* Verily the 
magistrates are del I be rating concerning 
thee, to put tbee to death.' Accordingly, ho 
fled to another town.— -Some authors add> 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

0( £(wf « Novth. 


that ho wrote a reply, coaTeying, by annil- 
lar aign, to his friend, bd allusion to another 
passage in the Kar-ia.: — 'We wili never 
enter the country while they remain there- 
in.' — It is probable tiiat signs thus employed 
were used by many persons to convey allu- 
sions to certain words ; and such may have 
been the caae in the above-men tioned in- 
stance : if not, the poet was indeed a won- 
derful guesser." 

We regret that ire have no space for a 
detailed examination of the Essai sur les 
Fables Indiennes, such as its' own merits, 
ftnd the deserved celebrity of its author re< 
quire at our hands. It is, however, a volume 
of estrame labour, pains, and research, com- 
bining all that has been said on the subject 
with the utmost clearness and accuracy. Tt 
is divided into two portions — Bidpai and 
Sendabad. This last is not the tthorl lale 
before noticed as appearing in the Calcutta 
version of the Arabian Nights, but the re- 
nowned History of the Seven Wise Masters 
of Rome (RoumT) in its original form ; and 
&r more likely than that insignificant tale to 
have been the one noticed, as we have seen, 
in the Hezar Elsaneh, or Old Persi&n Thou- 
sand and One. 

The fiiUes of Pilpay or Bidpai have been 
satis&ctorily traced to the Sanscrit Hetopft- 
desa, or to its prototype in the same languase, 
the Pancha Tantra (Five Chapters,) an In- 
dian work of some antiquity. The Kallla 
and Dimna, or the two Jackals ; the Anvari 
Sohaili, or Emanations of the Star Canopus ; 
the Ayiari Danush, or touchstone of Know- 
ledge, are only modern modidcations of the 
fehlfis of Pilpay. All these works consist of 
stories strung together and conne<;led by 
some leading feature, in the manner of the 
Arabian Nights. The account which the 
Persians give of Pilpay's fables is, that they 
were invented by King Houshing, thesecond 
of the Pishdadtan dynasty of their monarchs; 
that a king of India, named D&beshelim, got 
poaseasion of King Hounhing's Will, as it 
was termed, and had it translated into Sans- 
crit by a Brahmin named Bidpai ; that in 
A. D. 660, Noushirvan the First, of the same 
dynasty, obtained a copy of the work from 
India, and caused it to be rendered into 
Pehlivi by the physician Buzurgomir j and 
that on the overthrow of his dynasty and the 
establishment of the Caliphate at Bagdad, 
the Pehlivi work was translated into Arabic, 
whence the modern Persian versions we 
made. These tales have been discovered __ 
the Hebrew, the Syriac, Oreek, and Latin 
tongues ; a Latin translation of the Kalila 

and Dimna is extant in print, made by a 

verted Jew, named John of Capua, as he 
Slates, from the Hebrew, between the years 
1362 and IS78. In his prologue he states 

that these tales were originally Indian, that ' 
they were translated into Persian, thence 
into Arabic, thence into Hebrew. It is prob- 
able that this Latin Pilpay is the sourcefrom 
whence many of the oriental tales met with 
in Western literature were derived, and even 
of some tales which have become naturalized 
in the West and clothed in an European 
dress. The incidents of Shylock and his 
bond are eventually traced to a Persian tale, 
the Cazi of Emossa ; there is also a version 
of it in Gladwin's Persian Moonshee. Pro- 
fessor H. H. Wilson, in his Analyus of the 
Pancha Tantra, observes, that the oriental 
origin of most of the tales which first roused 
the inventive taculties of our ancestors is 
universally admitted. 

The notes of H. Deslongohamp's volume 
are no less interesting than the text. Ad the 
whole is a complete library of rafereooe on 
the subject. 

Art. VIII.— 1. La Pvodle de BellemUe, 
porCh. Paul de Kock. 4 tomes. Paris, 

3. Zixine, par Ch. Paul de Kock. i tomes. 
Paris, 1888. 

8. XJn Tomrlourou, par Ch. Paul de Kock. 
4 tomes. Paris, 1887. 

4. Mmai Pariaemut NouveUa, par Ch. 
Paul de Kock. 4 tomes. Paris, 1887. 

6. Mouilache, par Ch. Paul de Kock. 4 

tomes. Pans, 1638. 
6. Le Barhiar dt Pari*, A tomes. 

Wb hare already, and upon more than one 
occasion, noticed tha peculiar characteristics 
of M. Paul de Kock's novels ; and as bis 
genius, gaiety, exactitude and closeness of 
observation, together with their natural con- 
comitant, diversity of powers, are sufficiently 
obvious in themselves from the extracts al- 
ready furnished, (seeF. Q. R. Nos. 10 and 20,) 
we need dilate but little oti these topics to the 
readers of our journal. But there are other 
considerations, and scarcely less germane to 
the general question before us, to which we 
shall request their serious attention for a 

Life, the great principle of our existence, 
as few thinking persons require to be inform- 
ed, is bestowed upon us for the double pur- 
pose of thought and action; and since the 
former is but a continuous preparation for 
the latter, and itself requires to be fed by 
a constant supply of subject-matter) and 
further, as the material on which it feeds 
ought to assimilate as nearly M^ssible to 


Dt Koel^i Noteli. 


the object of such suslenlatioDt it follows, by 
ayDtheais, that novel-reading ought to be the 
great aim of our thoughts. 

Life, indeed, nas cleeily given to man for 
two eipcciai purposes — first, to read novels ; 
and secondly, to act them. If, however, 
there should by possibility be found in this 
world auyone sufficiently hardy to deny, or 
even sufficiently sceptical to doubt in his se- 
cret soul the truth of our Hxiora,^^ad the 
wildest extiBVBEances of imagination do at 
times enter the human brain : — i( then, and 

be found, before seeking to eoaiaelbim with 
the unfading hues of truth by the simple 
operation oflhe pile and the faggot, after the 
most approved authorities, and even previ- 
ous 10 stamping in persuasion by the arm of 
flesh, ns practised in China, Turkey, Eng- 
land, snd all other enlightened countries, we 
would first point out lo his erring judgment 
that iheorj and practice are both opposed to 
his heT'etical unbelief In the first place : 
just as we eat food for the sake ofprolong- 
ing existence, so we read novels for the sake 
of enlarging pHtlosaphy. We lake these, 
as we take alt cudcellingSi cufis and kicks, 
because t^ey are given us unstintedly, and 
without our afking for them; and if we 
judge of the former k priori aiid of the last ft 
posteriori, the same principle applies inboth 
cases ; for lo what purpose are they bestow- 
ed, if nol for our especial u^e, benefit, and 

Disposing thus satisfactorily of the theory 
in favour of novels, we come to the question 
of their practice : and this in its consequen- 
ces, we do not hesitate to affirm, indisputa- 
bly establishes that Lying is the great law of 
nature and the bond of all civilized society : 
thai therefore it is the first of the aociat vir- 
tues. A little consideration will develope 
this important truism. 

It is unquestionable (hat, in the case of the 
soul, the universality of belief in its ^xist- 
Bnce is an unanswerable argument; and 
this is found with the vulgar and (he enlight- 
ened of all countries and ages, from (he 
New Hollander, the most degraded, to (he 
Frenchman, the most sublime, of mankind ; 
from the Tatar savage lo (he German sage 
his genuine lineal descendant. Is falsehood 
less universal t 

Let us just glance al its philosophy as (he 
best evidence of theories. 

The idealisms of Plato, and the Greek 
philosophy, prove thai those mighty an- 
cients were far from satisfied with the forms 
of actuality and its rsal influences. The 
Brahmin, whose wisdom all the world ad- 
mits, since he reserves to himself all the 

cood things in it, affirms in his invaliuAle 
Vedanta philosophy thai nature is uava; 
according to Vans Kennedy, a delusion; 
according lo Colebrook and Haughlon, an 
"lusion ; that Is to say, either an inipretisioD, 
hich does not exist, of realities, which do 
exist ; or else an impression which does ex- 
ist, of re&liiies that do not exiat. This 
system is well worth preserving for its coo. 
clusiveoess. The Buddhist insists that all 
existence is absorption ; and his stauochest 
advocates are the friends of the bolile. An- 
tiquity affirmed all and doubted all, till at 
length Berkeley in England demonstrated 
that tba world without was the world within, 
and that this was nothing; in contradislioc- 
tion to the ancient theory, that external na- 
ture was everything, and no part of it any- 
thing. The German philosophers, fortu- 
nately, have set the question fairly at rest 
Kant proves that though nature exists, we 
know that wo do not know it : however that 
may be : — and this was a great improvement 
upon the idealism (hat had previously af- 
firmed, that we know nature does not exist 
because we hare impressions that it does. 
These theories have one great advantage, viz. 
thai they all difier; which clearlyisthe proof 
of their mutual corroboration : and Matter, 
in spite of Leucippus,doe8iiot exist, because 
il occupies apac« ; and Space does not exist, 
because it is extension ; and Extension does 
not exist, because it is an idea in molioD ; 
now an idea cannot have motion, for the 
former is immaterial, this material ; but an 
idea may have an idea of motion, which 
therefore stands still, end is not motion: 
and this is refining as far as we can go, and 
therefore when we think we exist, we do not 
exist, and we do not think ; whatever we 
think to the contrary. 

The great principle of falsehood, thus es- 
tablished in Nature, is illustrated by the 
practice of social life ; we see it in every 
act of our own, our friends, our kindred, 
country, and the human race. The chikl 
steals a cake, tells a falsehood to hide it, gets 
another cuke for good conduct, and the 
parents are happy. A friend belies you in 
your absence, reports it as praise to your 
face, and you love him for his worth, which 
you depreciate when his back is turned. 
Your own dissipation abroad you represent 
at home as martyrdom, and your wife, who 
never goes out, always believes you to the 
letter ; for women rarely distrust you and 
never deceive. The statesman and the 
general soflen unpleasant facts and exagger- 
ate successes ; each man deceives himself 
and every body else : thus all are satisfied 
with delusion, and the bond of society is 
falsehood. Display but the truth, and all 



De Ko'.et Ntneb. 


go by (be eara : (he cat b^ioa to kill the 
rat ; the rat begins to gnnw tbe lope ; and 
so 0(1 ad iafiaitum, till social order is dislo- 
catedatonoe. Inpracticeaain theory iben 
we iriisi we have proved ibai lying is the 
great principle of Nature, and tho bond of 
social life. If Truth be valuable, bow 
much more valuable is lying : for i.;iito is 
TBK EcoNOMT OF TRUTH; and therefore the 


Once conscious orthisgreat bond of union 
we directly perceive the value of novels 
to mankind, and discover tho striking fact 
that the oationa who earliest possessed these 
became the most civilized i a consequence. 
The mind, intent on truth, starts ofTfrom it 
with an hypothesis, or ficUoti, and thus fic- 
tion is the key of fact, the calculus of n\[ its 
problems, the assumed term in mental Pro- 
gression, itself the arithraetical " rule of 
fclse." or wilful assumption of a known er- 
ror to aid the most matte r-of-fact.sci ences. 

We have seen, firat, that Philosophy or 
tbe love of Truth leads man to deny the un- 
deniable truth; and now find Fiction, or the 
love of Falsehood, operating to banish 
Falsehood altogether. 

Thu6, then, we apply novel-reading to 
life ; and by imagining what never happen- 
ed prepare ourselves for what may really 
happen; unii, since this prevision is the bu- 
siness of life, the business of life is, first to 
read novels; and secondly, to act them on 
(he real stage.— Q. £. D. 

We have devoted an ample space to so 
new and important a proposition. Wa now 
return, like true philosophers, to the spot 
whence we started, namely, to M. Paul de 

The excessive facility wherewith this 
gifted writer produces these light and pleas- 
ing efforts of imagination, appears, some- 
what as in the case of Sir Waller Scott, 
■ Cooper, and others, 10 have misled the 
world as to ihe means by which such sus- 
tained labours are eHTected. It is not merely, 
Dor even principally, from external obser- 
vation, tve suspect, that these pictures of 
truth and reality are drawn ; let us examine 
as we may those who surround, or those 
who are thrown near us in the perpetual 
changes of life, and we shall ever find them, 
however possessed of what is generally 
termed character, deficient in the muhitude 
and variety of characteristics that are indis- 
pensable to fill effectively a prominent pan 
upon the novelist stage. The changes of 
chance and circumstance that affect sucbi 
persons are by no means always, or often, I 
of a strength to develope in any great ex- 
tent the peculiarities of temperament. Let 
truth be ever so much more romantic ihsn I 

fiction, still its incidents, genenUy sfraak. 
ing, are so wida apart from each oiber ; — eo 
thinly scattered over the whole scene of life; 
and with so much to interpose, modify, and 
correct the impiessions and passions roosed 
by one event before another preoenta ilaelf, 
ihnt the character of yesterday, which might 
be justly anticipated aa to its action to-day, 
and calculated on with some certainty for 
to-morrow even, grows often in the course 
of months and yean entirely out of know- 
ledge, since we cannot follow in all his steps; 
consequently when we predicate of his coo. 
duct in certain circumstances of laal life 
exactly as we would of a similar character 
in a novel, we are almost invariably deceiv. 
fd ; and however true to nature the tale may 
be in itself, it continually disappoints us 
when we nm the parallel into reality. The 
novelist then does not seek altogether in life 
the originals of his sketches; he does not 
confine himself to the mere practical before 
him ; if he does, his characters are cold and 
flat, his incidents wire-drawn and fiaw, and 
his readers fewer. It is perfectly lilce life 

i contess, and therefore feel it has much 
its insipidity; for the common haunts of 

;n are level grounds. 

Another class of writers run into (he op- 
posite extreme, and make their story one 
tempest of violent excitements from all the 
points and all the winds of the compass at 
or in close aucceMion ; just as in the 
in proverb, " one devil drives out an- 
other." But in any thing above the very 
lowest class of readers, such efTorls produce 
speedily a degree of lassitude the more dif- 
ficult to shake off, inasmuch as the same 
mind that induced has to dispel it, and bv 
similar means, thus becoming its own rival. 
Now as ihe powers of every mind, however 
gifled, have their limit ; and as those which 
particularly affect the more violent emo- 
tions and (Jeeper springs of the soul, are, 
from the very nature of their atudiea and 
pursuits, concentrated and condensed in that 
severer sphere, they can the less easily hope 
to vary their range, aiifl give the jaded read- 
er a totally novel .impulse ; such as would be 
doneat once by any other mind than their 
, for each has its proper bias- The re- 
is that they go on, generally, in the 
same course, adding stimulant to stimulant 
o force excitement out of languor, till they 
nsensiblv lose all relish for the simple, and 
inture with ihem is one tornado, drowning 
ill the milder breathings of humanity : tbe 
sky is darkened with clouds, the earth delug. 
ed whh lorrenls ; and the gentler feelings 
of mankind, when brought out reluctant from 
their hiding-places, are exhibited in furious 
rapture or agonies of repoee, or else, like 



Dt KotVt NovtU. 


;■ of the L&adeB, trasd the long 

{nterTalsofhumanity upon Blilu if they would 
seek to prMsrve a proportiooate ezistsncs. 
Rage and homre of every kind, possible 
aoa imposaible, thus luccead each other till 
the charma of fiction become a Newgate 
Calendar, and the hero, and the author, de- 
servedly finish their biography at the gal- 

Writers of this cla» are generally in 
themselves men of great amiability as well 
u ardent imagioacions, that seek provoca- 
tives to give themselves streogth, and sus- 
taia these formidable flights. Unaccuslom- 
od practically to the worst passions, they 
never dream of ibeir real intensity, never 
consider how easily these are excited and 
with what difficulty appeased, till brmida. 
ble or &tal consequences have ensued. If 
Schiller's "Robbers" did not produce any 
amateurs of crime in Bnghuid ; ifthe Esmer- 
aldas and Turpins have not brought forth 
tangiUe fruit, they still and, the first in- 
stance especially, exhibit the tendency to 
demoralize the community; more or less it 
may be, but still, to demoralize; fordoes 
not the excitement of every pauion confirm 
it into a habit f Coleridge, who once de- 
toaA^ his writing a virulent philippic against 
PiU, upon the principle thai the mdulgence 
of imagination deadened actual feeling, for- 
got that this excuse could apply only to the 
writer, but that the denunciations airenglb- 
ened the worst feelings of his readers; he 
was puned too to find the arti6cial virulence 
^his poem produce also a real virulence in 
some breasts against the writer : — he thought 
sticb emotion unjust, for he was then loo 
young to weigh the necessary counterac- 
tion of one excess by another ; but it show- 
ed that nature will vindicate her insulted 
lights, and her pulie is the voice of Reason, 
echoed by every heart despite the shallow 
subtleties oF such a defence. 

We would quit this painfhl subject by 
asking such writers, and one of the ablest 
of ihem, our own countryman, is also — 
of tho mildest and ^nost amiable of It 
men, whether the tendency to such excessive 
displays of force does not show a want of 
due confidence in, if not an absolute defect 
of, geaiusi The highest powers of mind 
can surely seize and wield, belter than the 
wild pitchfork that losses about these burn- 
ing straws ol meulal incendiarism, those 
fiaer shades of character and emotion that 
are elicited by circumstances more conge- 
nial to our feelings and fancies, snd of more 
value even as eiperieni'.es. Is it less tri' 
umph to exhibit these, the finer traiu that 
emape the vulgar artist, and bring them (o 
light, and before the public eye, that never 

fiiils to recognize the roaster by his touch, 
the masterpiece by its truth 1 Is not, even, 
the triumph more noble and more univer- 
sal that speaks lo all bosoms, than that 
which addresies itself only to the coarser 
class of readers 1 Even the genius and 
kindly spirit of Dickens himself could not 
save the beautiful creation of Oliver Twist 
from the loathing that followed the ill-judg- 
ed protraction oF scenes of vice and depravi- 
ty j when that exquisite picture, the most 
simple, the most beautiful which the Eng- 
lish language can boast, of the helpless, 
hopeless, broken and dying infani, clinging 
amidst all his desolation to the one equally 
wretched'and hopeless friend and partner 
of his early afflictions, was succeeded by 'a 
long and elaborate development of courses 
that ought (o have been unknown, at least 
to all but the miserable actors in such scenes, 
what pure mind did not shrink, — what pa- 
rent did not loathe and dread the fatal ex- 
hibition for his children's sake and his own. 
But genius, ever docile, saw its error snd re- 
tracted at once : Mr. Dickens felt just con- 
fidence in his own powers ; and in calmer 
scenes and less revolting situations he has 
subsequently won a higher meed ; one as 
far above all vulgar competition as h is 
free from a slain, or a reproach. This, 
certainly, is not the place to discuss the 
merits of such a writer, who deserves an 
article lo himself, and from the ablest hsnds ; 
our inquiry therefore returns to the previous 

Were we, however, to proceed with the 
school of Victor Hugo and his great rival 
Ainsworth much further, according to their 
merits, we should infallibly be conducted 
towards Tyburn, or La Gr^ve : but object- 
ing upon principle to the process of deca- 
pitation at the latter ; and feeling reluctant 
10 appear as a pendant at the former, even 
by vsy of a note of admiration to one of 
Mr. Bentley's puffs, — notwithstanding the 
elevated authority of the respectable " Jack 
Shepp:ird," who came on that stage, per- 
chance not wholly unioviled, 

" All lutngcd for to be," 
OS the poetic chronicle of that great and 
good man with classic pathos assures ua 
was his particular object at the time ; — we 
turn to a different class of novels, introduced 
by a writer at first evidently tinctured with 
a a'rong propensity for theCourt of Assize*. 

The really great powers of the head of 
ihia school, the Apostle of sensualized philo- 
sophism, were from the first apparent, and 
not less so the injury they had suffered in 
(heir infancy hy being overlaid by the incu. 
bus of French and Qeiman eztrnvai 

qitized by Google 


t/t Kcek't SoMlt, 


But it *rai then bopsd that bis geoiua. 
Uruggling under tbU cliMdvsQtage. would 
be ab!e to force itself into light and propor- 
tion through tlie chaos by which it waa ob- 
viooBly enveloped. We know not, how. 
ever, by what uDfortunate process its foot- 
steps were led into that limbo of vanity, from 
which, despite its better nature, it baa never 
emerged, but on the contrary seems dis- 
posea to rest there as its appropriate place 
and home. II, running from the one ex- 
treme, that of (hu purely horriblp, the au- 
thor bad by good fortune been unsuccessful 
in hia first attempt at its oppoaile excess ; or 
bad the popularity of this been less exten- 
•irethan itdeserved, less thao universal too 
among the more amiable sex; confident of 
bis own powers, the writer in question 
would have risen renovated by the repulse 
— and steeled his intellect to grapple with 
the practical and efiective. Unhappily for 
his true &me the result was far otherwise, 
and stimulated him to advance in a field, 
not worth, assuredly, a second triumph. 
Still he bad, and must hBve,readen; and 
these, too, numerous, not owing to his own 
iotrinsic merits alone, but to the peculiarity 
of hia theme also. The class of inlellectual 
trifiersi the gay, the idle, the supcrficia] ; — 
the fair sex too. that portion at least which, 
anxious for mental superiority, holds philo- 
sophy ever bound in morocco, and loves it 
in gilded letters; — ail these were his vota- 
ries and readers. The libraries were 
crowded, their shelves were emptied of his 
works J these were invaluable to indolent 
aapiralion ; the very elixir of life to those 
dying of literary inanition. Profundity 
was rife on satin paper ; reason embossed 
the edged of her scrolls ; the duties of life 
were small and fragrant in perfume, and 
energfliic virtue lisped magnanimity from 
the sofa. Analyaia devoted its patient la- 
bours to a down-bed, and was fed with half- 
maslicated melapbyaics from the pop-spoon. 
Who could be ungrateful for thisT The 
gods, victory, end Cato were all on one 
aide, with aatin stocks, rosewood tables, and 
ottomans. For these "the soft trium-vir" 
of (nannert, morals, and metaphysica, aban. 
donrd aterner contest, lost the empire of the 
world, and was contented to lose it. 

And what baa become of that once glori- 
ous promise T The question is one of sor- 
row no less than anger. The strength that 
might have peopled the workl with a fresh 
creation of geniua now beardless and emas- 
culate for the slothlui slaves of the harem. 
The honey of Hacho was not moie enervat- 
ing ; and let the silken idler blush for such 
perversion oftalenis and learning. For all 
that might and ought to have done honour 

to his country we are presented with a Plato 
in pink, and ap ethical systenn of sugar- 
plums. The writer has "thought away" 
his energy as well as his " enthusiasm." 
Nature in his bands is a first- rate varnish ; 
woman, a starchad flounce, with a purity of 
isinglass, smooth, but flexible : — simplicity 
pirouettes, history rants : a heroism of silver 
paper, a poetry of carmine, a philosophy of 
eau-du- Cologne : even his good breeaing 
savours of brandy- punch, mixed with tea; 
and the very graces with him are redolent 
of the best Schiedam. All is elaboiatioDt 
eiaggeralioo, bod habits, continual efibrts 
to be fine, with constant failure ; no calm 
consciousness of strength ; no dignity ; no 
repose ; hia despair woirid like to die, could 
it but know whst waa thought of it ; and 
his passion would throw itself from the 
Monument, only (hat his cab cannot be seen 
in the city. The very morals of this mo- 
dern Chesterfield resemble his predeces- 
sor's, at least as described by the satire of 

The author in question is perhaps the 
only man who neea not yet despair ; if he 
will but strive to reach the eminence be 
might by this bare gained, he can scarcely 
fail, we think, of success ; but he must be 
satisfied to renounce ficlitioua triumph, and 
trample upon the silken bnnda of his present 
indolence. He jnust undo much that he 
haa done if he would attain the first rank in 
serious literature ; he must dissipate his 
fastidious nreains, sweep away the cobweb* 
of phantasy, and strive to think aoundly in- 
stead of finely j when be has done this he 
will have half aitained his end, for, he will 
not need to print bis apophthegms in capi- 
tals Aa AT FKESENT. 

We have d welt the longer upon the Cory. 
phtBus of this school, because it seemed ex- 
tending to the Continent ; but in France it 
appears to have already sunk, despite the 
native taste for the ridiculous, and in Ger- 
many its disciples will be as little under- 
stood as their great prototype is in England 
or Fiance. He has vanished into smoke 
before Dickens and De Rock. 
- Of this latter, our more immediate theme, 
we have little to add to the remarks ofiered 
in a former notice of hia works ; and that 
little we proceed to state Lore- We have 
already intimated in the previous pages of 
this article that it is not alone to the exter- 
nal manifestations of life and character that 
the novelist, the only moralist of the pre- 
sent day, should turn for subjects. He 
must, in truth, look rather to the develop- 
ment of the world within, and watch his own 
motives, tendencies, and passions, long, close, 
and continually, before he can attempt to 

netted tyCoOt^lc 


De Koek't NoMb. 

acrDtinize the feelings of others bb developed 
in their conduct. It is not, ai generally 
supposed, by intuition of other minds, noi 
even a searching observfttion of others' con- 
duct down lo the very inioutifE of their m- 
istence, that he can obtain this faculty; his 
■pirit might be a glass refleclinif each form 
perfectly and to the life, yet it would, like 
that, lose every trace as soon as the original 
had vanished, ilj like that also, it possessed 
nothing beyond a surface. It is only in 
the power of sympathy, residiag, indeed, 
more or less in every breast, but cultivated 
alone by the man of genius, lo go far be- 
yond the outward forms and shapes of pass- 
ing objects. It is by frequent solitude, by 
constant self- observation, and by ceaseless 
comparison of the acts of other men with 
the feelings of his own bosom, that he can 
hope to attain that facility of searching the 
human heart and laying bare its workings 
which has formed the renown in our day 
of Scott, Dickens, and Dh Kock ; for Coop. 
er, whose genius for the description of na- 
ture at least equals the first of these, has 
nothing of the power even of the last to 
■can Ihe workings of the secret spirit — and 
Sue, and Heine, &c. exaggerate them even 
to mockery. 

It is in truth the remarkable characteristic 
of Paul De Kock that with all his relish for 
individuality, with all his care 10 mark the 
idiosyncracies of his personages, and his 
uns'irpassible felicity in observing and ad- 
hering to them throughout the whole con- 
duct of his very numerous tales, often as he 
wakes by a touch the very sources of the 
lofiiesl emotions, he seems never able, or 
willing, to dwell upon them. Whether 
this great writer fears that concentration of 
his powers would operate materially to 
diminish their variety ; — whether he has 
been, by temperament and love of society, 
little disposed to meditate severely and long 
upon his own sensations; — or whether, as 
Barante observed of Voltaire, what he sees 
is at a glance, and the faculty of deep care- 
ful thought seems denied him, — we cannoi 
assume to decide : but it is cerlaia that 
whenever roused to a scene of deep and 
solemn lone, such aa could scarcely fsil to 
be effective in any hands, and least of all in 
those of the con'.river, he is content to 
strike it off with a single stroke of his pen. 
cil, disappointing the reader, and depreciat- 
ing his own powers. His works conse- 
quently are not finished pictures but moving 
panoramas; but as such pregnant with na. 
lure and truth. 

We take, as an illustration, his Barhier 
de Paris, which, ua a romance, would seem 
not only to afford, but absolutely to call for. 

those bolder mtu-kinn and darker ahd deeper 
lour and feeling with which n 

t, and with evident jostic 

, to II 

the ages of feudal rule and tyranny ; ages 
of Gothic gloom, barbaric splendour, and 
furious passions, over which the imperfect 
light of history, less domestic than political, 
has thrown a ahade congenial to the deeds it 
witnesaed and described j and which alibrd 
to Scott, and to writer* far his inferior, hues 
whose bold effectiveness atones for many 
errors of design and execution ; and we 
■elect this work in preference, not only as it 
is the author's chief specimen of the Roman- 
tic, but also as having been omitted by over- 
sight in our former article on this subject. 
(For. Quarl. Rev, No. IC.) 

The following ia true, ibotigh slightly 
touched — 

" Who could withstand the smile of 
Blanche! Age is all the more sensible to 
such allurements, from so seldom expe- 
riencing them ; and this is, perhaps, the rea- 
son why an old man sometimes loses his 
senses when a pretty girl gives him a tender 
glance, seeing that he has been so long an- 
accustomed lo so flattering a token." 

An excellent picture follows of Ghando- 
reille iho marplot, a gasconader, boaster, 
fool, and coward, and entertaioing cf himself 
commensurate wiih the lawful 
possessor of these eminent qualifications for 
success in war and love; to which last, 
though not to the former, ho was attached 
wftb a devotion worthy of n better fate. 

The person who now entered Mattre 
Touquet's house was a man of four-and- thir- 
ty, but who seemed at least five-and-tbrty — 
so wizen was his face, and so hollow bis 
cheeks ; his sallow complexion was only re- 
lieved by two small scarlet circles upon his 
cheek-bones, the brilliancy of which be- 
trayed their origin. His eyes were small 
but rather lively, and Monsieur Chaudoreille 
kept them constantly rolling about, never 
fixine them on the person he addressed : 
his snort pug-nose formed a striking contrast 
with the immensity of his mouth, which was 
surmounted by an outrageous moustache, 
■red like his hair, while beneath his under 
lip flourished on imperial, terminating in a 
point on hts chin. 

'■The Chevalier's stature was barely five 
feet, and the meogrencss of his bcdy was Ihe 
more apparent from the threadbare close 
coat which enclosed it. The buttons of his 
doublet had disappeared in several places, 
and a variety of botched darns and mend- 
ings seemed on the point of breaking out inig 
holes again. On the other hand, his breeches, 
&r too wide, eave an immense size to the 
upper part of Jne teg, which made the shrunk 
shanks, which issued from them a lillle 
Ihe knee, appear still more slender 



Dt KockU Novel: 


than they really were, for (lie funnel boots 
which be wore, falling as they did on the 
sncle, did not hide the absence of a calf. 
These boots, of a deep yellow colour, had 
heels two inches high, and were always pro- 
vided with spurs ; the doublet and breeches 
were of faded pink, and were accompanied 
by a little cloak of tbe same hue, which bare- 
ly descended to his waist: add to these a 
very high ruff, a titlle hat surmounted by an 
old red Teaiher, and cocked on one side ; an 
old green ailk belt ; a sword much longer 
than was usually worn, whoso hilt in fact 
rose to bis chest, and you will have b fnltb. 
ful portrait of the individual who styled him- 
self the Chevalier de Chaudoreilfe, whose 
slight Gascon accent denoted hia origin. lie 
walked with his head in Ihe air, bis nose 
stuck up, his hand on his hip, hia leg stretched 
out, as if about to put himself on his guard, 
and apparently disposed to defy all who 
passed by him. 

" Onentering tbe shop, Chaudorellle threw 
himself on a bench, as if overwhelmed with 
fatigue, and placed his hnt beside him, ex- 

"'Let me rest myself a moment. Sanditf 
1 well deserve it!— Ouft— what a night! 
Gad, what a night t' 

*'*And what the devil baat been doing to- 
night, to tire thee so much V 

'"Ah! nothing very extraordinary for 
me, 'tis true ; beaten three or four great fel- 
lows, who wanted to atop a countess's sedan ; 
wounded two pages who were insulting a 
girl ! gave a few inches of my sword tn a 
student who was about to enter tbe window 
of ft house ; delivered over to the watch four 
thieves who were about to rifle a poor gen- 
tlemao i— that is about what I did last night.' 

"'Peate!' said Touquet, as a sneering 
smile escaped him, 'dost thou know, Chau- 
doreille, thou alone art worth at least three 
patrols of the watch? It seems to me Ihnt 
the king, or monsieur Ihe cardinal, ought to 
compensate such fine conduct, by naming 
tliee to some high post in the police of this 
town, instead of leaving such a brave and 
useful personage to run about all day from 
one gambling house to another, trying to 
borrow a crown.' 

■• ■ Yes,' said Chaudoreitle, affbctiag not to 
have heard the latter portion of what the 
barber bad said. '1 admit that 1 am very 
brave, and that my sword has often been of 
service to the slate; that is to say— to tbe 
oppressed ; but 1 have ever acted disinte- 
restedly ; [ yield to the impulses of my heart : 
'tia in tbe blood. Cadidis! Honour above 
all things! — and in these times we are not 
given to trifling !— I am what they call at 
court 'the very punctilio of honour.' A 
disrespectful glance — a cold look — a cloak 
brusbingagainst mine--;prei(o.'— the sword's 
in my hand ; that's my only argument ; I 
would flght with a child of five years old if 
he were disrespectful I' 

"'Iknow we live in llmea when people 
measure swords nlKMit nothing; but 1 never 
heard that thy duels bad made much noise.' . 

" • I dara say not, my dear Touquet i dead 
men don't speak, and those who have to do 
with me never get out of tbe scrape. Thou 
hast heard of the renowned Balngni, sur- 
named the bravo, who was killed in a duel 
fifteen years ago. Well, my friend, I am 
his pupil and successor.' 

'' ' It is unfortunate fijr thee that thou wast 
not brought into the world two centuries 
earlier. Tournaments are getting out of 
fashion, and the knights who redressed 
wrongs, andsplilgiantsintwo, are no longer 
seen — except in picture galleries.' 

« ■ Ii is certain that, if I had lived in the 
time of the Crusades, I should have brought 
back from Palestine two thousand Saracen 
ears; but, my dear Rolanda was there. 
This redoubted sword, which I inherit from 
an ancestor wbo had It direct from Orlando 
Furioso — hatb sent a devilish lotof people to 
the other world.' 

"'I'm always afraid of its throwing thea 
down, it seems too long for thee.' 

" ' And yet it's worn an inch shorter since 
I had It; if I go on in this way, it will be- 
come a mere stiletto.' " 

'"I may say, with pride, few fitmilies are 

united as our own ; during the four years 

of my being married to my second husonnd, 

Monsieur Legras, we have fought but Ave 

times, and then always for mere trifles.*" 

llie gallant cavalier is out with the un- 
wonted sum of ten crowns in his purse, on 
an errand of discovery and love. 

"Chaudorellle again looked round fafm, 
placed his fingers on his lips, examined all 
the persons in the shop, pushed away tbe 
footstool on which the cat was lying, theo 
bending towards Julia with the air of a con- 
spirator, whispered in her ear : 

" ' A great lord sent me to you — m man tre- 
mendously rich— a personage in fiivoui^-& 
gallant, who — ' 

"'It isl— it is the Hsrquis de Viilebellc^' 
said Julia, out of patience; 'I know It! 
What would be with mel what did he bid 
you say to me 1 Come, sir, come !' 

H > 1 must be peculiarly skilful,' thought 
Chaudorellle; 'people guess at once, evea 
without my saying so, what I have to say to 
them. Since you knowhisname," resumed 
he, Qgatn approximating his face to the ear 
of JnOa, wbo roughly pushed him awaji ' I 
need not tell you that this nobleman adores 

" ' He did not charge you with the ei- 
pressioD of his sentiments V 

-'Ho; but he charged me to ask for an 

view I if you deny him this favour, he 

will set the four corners of the street on flr* 
that he may have the pleasure of saving yon. 
For mercy's sake, fair Julia,— for so 1 tntnk 
they call you, which makes me presuine you 
are not French- am I right I' 




D« Kociet NovtU. 


«'Were yon charged to ask me thatr 
nid Julia, looking disdainfully at Ch&udo- 
reillo. The latter oil hia lip, put bis left hand 
on his hip, arid whispered — 

•> ■ What shall 1 aay to ihe noble Marquia 
d« Villebellc, whose confidant I am, and 
whom I DOW represents' 

■" That he should Belecthiaenvoya better,' 
said Julie, drily. 

** ' I was sure of it,' said Cbaudoreille to 
bicnseir, stepping back a pace orLwo; 'she 
has fallen in lo»e wllh me ; my person is 
playina; off its old tricks. Il's very disagree- 
able; 1 ouzht to have disguised myself a 
little, or at least to have kept my eyes from 
inflicting new wounds. There is money to 
be made here, — I must not forget that.' And 
Chaudoreille repeated to Julia, — to whom he 
sow, very prudently, only presented his face 
In profile — ■ What shall 1 tell the mnrquisT 
Where will you be walking to-morrow 
evening V 

''Julia was silent to soma moments, and 
appeared in deep reflectk>n ; meantime 
Chaudoreille felt his purae, in great anxiety 
as to her answer. 

'"At all events,' thought be, 'I won't re- 
turn the ten crowns.' 

'■■To-morrow evening, at eight o'clock, 
upon the Pont de la Toumelle,' at length 
replied the young Italian, for Julia was in- 
deed not a nrencn woman. 

■■ > Enough,' said Chaudoreille, still only 
showing his profile, ' I ask no mors, and I 
shall now hasten away, lest the continuing to 
see me should induce you to change your 

''He had already reached the door, and 
was about tu make his exit, whro Julia called 
him back. 

'■ ' Tou have forgot to pay for the riband, 

•"Gad, that's true I— DaTil take rael— It's 
always my way ; I'm so giddy, so absent' 

"So SBvlng, Chaudoreille took out bis 
purse, and counted backwards and forwards 
the ten crowns it contained into his band. 

"'I'm afraid I've noehange with me,' said 
be ; ' in general I carry only gold ; lis lighter. 
How much do you want, Air one V 

•"ITiirty sous, sir.* 

"•Thirty sous I—for a rosette V cried 
Chaudoreille, with a very long fhce, and re- 
toming the crowns into his parse; 'that's 
horribly dear : you must perceive that the 
riband is very narrow.' 

■" iVn- a man who carries only gold ' said 
Julia, smiling, -I'm really surprised you 
riiould want to make a bantain about sucn a 

" ' I don't want to barRain, but still 1 think 
tbat some reduction mi|^t be made ; four, 
and-tweaty sous ought to be enough fbr a 
superb roaette. No matter, I yield : give me 
the change.' 

•• With a deep sigh he then handed over 
one of the crowns, and while the Italian was 
counting out the difiemteck he attached the 
riband to the handle of Rolands : Iba effsct 
of the riband somewbtt dieiiated bis r^T«t 

for the thirty aaos. He took up his change, 
nnd recollecting that there wnsanolber claim 
which might be made upon him, he hastened 
to the door, skipped out inln the street, and 
departed with the speed of lightning. 

" > And the glass !' said the old woman ; 
' has he paid for that !' 

" 'Ah, Lord, noimadame,' said Julia. 

" ■ I was sure be wouldn't ; run, girls, run ; 
—a rascally puppy, that wauls to come the 
dandy, with hia old thread-bare cloak and 
his feather, that I would not dust my shelves 
with. He puts every thing topsy-turvy, nearly 
pokes out my cat's eyes, says impertinent 
things to me, is bargaining two hours for a 
rosette, and then runs away wllfaoul paying 
for the glass he broke. It's some pick-pocket, 
some cut- purse 1' 

" The two girls opened the door, and look- 
ed up and down the street, but Monsieur le 
Chevalier was nowhere to be seen. 

■"Il'G my fault, madame,' said Julia, 'I 
ought to have asked him for it; but I will 
pay for it.' 

'"Yes, mademoiselle; that willteach you 
another time not to listen to these gentlemen, 
who give a great deal of trouble without 
having a penny in ibeir pockets.' 

'' The young Italian made no reply. It is 
probable that at this moment neither tne pane 
of glass nor the chevalier occupied her 

Blanche, the daughter of Touquet, the 
Barber of Paris, has a lover, Urban, who at- 
tempts to see her in disguise. The scene is 
spinted and characlerislic, and we extract it 

■' The bachelor, in bis petticoat and cap, 
fell very little at esse in the streets of Paris. 
Although it was night, and there were but 
few lanterns, no sooner did any one approach 
him than Urban fancied himself recognized, 
and expected to be taken up by the police, 
who might inquire the cause of'hia disguise, 
and require something handsome by way of 
ransom, if he continued to walk about dress- 
ed up as a woman ; for at Paris, as else- 
where, it is only by scattering money about 
that you can pass for what you are not ; and 
as Urban had not a single crown about him 
—for one cannot think of every thing on 
such occaaions — the young lover felt (be ne- 
cessity of getting out ofthe way of the officera 
of justice. As nir thieves he had no fear of 
them, which wassayinpmuch in thosetimes. 
It is saying something indeed even now. 

" By dcureea Urban acquired more confld- 
etKe ; he began to get accustomed to his cos- 
tume; snd various tender phrases which bad 
already been addressed to him as he passed 
along convinced him that his sex was not at 
all suspected. Urban made no answers to the 
unceremonious compliments addressed to 
him ; he hastened on with increased speed, 
covning his pettlcoata with dirt in his pro. 
gresa, fto- he did not know how to tiold them 
up, and tfa^ war»Mdl7 In bis way whea he 


De Kock't NmeU. 

vranied to Jump ov«r ttas kennels. At length t •• ' Good i' nid Urban, ' this ii _ 

he reached the Rue des Bourdpnnais ; and il Btreet, the Rue de Vsrueuil ; there's the CU. 

then for the flrat time occurred to him that iim^Buz-M ' 

into the barber's house. There was not the 
slighiest probabilily of Hargtiret's coming out 
novr; hit disguise would be of no use till next 
day ; it was absurd and uselesi to have asaum- 
ed it so soon ; but lovers do not make these 
reflections. Besides, as Urban wished to get 
used to his feminine coslume. he did not re- 

£et that he had put it on. While making 
ese rejections he walked up and down In 
front of the barber's house, looking up at 
Blanche's window^ sending her a thousand 
Biehsi which she did not near, for she was 
asleep i and which very likely she would as 
liltle nave heard even hid she been nwaks. 
" Absorbed in the deliKbt of sighiOK un- 
derneath the windows of his fair one. Urban 
did not consider that, though It may be natu- 
ral to see a young man waiting and sighing 
at night in the streets, a woman alone at so 
late an hour gives rise to many conjectures- 
All at once the young lover was roused from 
his ecstasy by some one pinching bis knee, 
uid saying 10 him in a terribly hoarse voice — 
■* * It seems, niv little love, that he thou ex. 
pectest is behindhand; if thou wilt lake my 
arm, we will go and taste the while wine of 
the merchant down yonder ; I am a customer 
ofbis, and there are — ' 

" Urban turned round, and saw a great fel- 
lowln a chairman's dress. NotatalTamused 
with this adventure, the young bachelor set 
off running, leaving the gallant behind ; but 
two hundred yards further on be was again 
stopped by two pages, who insisted on a 
kiss ; he got away from them, and resumed 
his Sight. Next he was accosted by some 
students, then by some lacqueys, then by 
some soldiers; some of his admirers pursu^ 
him, and Urban to escape from them redoub- 
led his speed, andtoliicilitate his flight gath- 
ered up his clothes to his knees, a proceed, 
ing which appeared to increase the ardour of 
' his pursuers. 

"•MorHea!' said Urban to himself, as he 
dashed on, ' I did not dress myself as a wo- 
man to t>e pinched by every page and lac- 
quey in the town— the devil's In them! Curse 
these petticoats. But never mind ! To- 
morrow I will introduce myself to Blanche. 
Courage ! perhaps these fellows will give up.' 
" Urban leaped over tiie kennels, wound 
along the streets, perspiring, half suffocated 
under bis stays and tne padding with which 
the servant had fiimlshed bIscEest: taking 
any tomine that presented Itself to him to 
elude bli umirei^ be knew not where he 

" At length, hearing no person behind biia. 
Urban paused to take breath ; he then recog- 
nized where he was. He had passed the 
bridges, and had reached the great Fri-aux- 
Clercs, in which they had begun to build 
. houses and open streets, as they had done in 
the little Fr^aiu-Clercs, whicn towards the 
«nd of the reigo of Henry IV. was quite coV' 
.cred wiUi housM and gwraens. 

but let me rest a moment— I am too far from 
home to start again directly — I am overcome 
—I must take breath. This is a lonely place, 
thoush~tbe night is advanced, I only hope I 
shalnnake no more conquests.' 

" Urban gathered up his petticoats and sat 
down on a stone. At the end of half on hour, 
feeling DO longer bis fatigue, be rose and 
proceeded homewards : be was walking slow> 
ty, congratulatii^ himself upon meeSng no 
persoDi when on a sudden coming to the Rue 
de Bourbon he met four men, who, on seeing 
him, slopped short and barred his way. 

■" Oh I oh 1 wliat's this 1— so late too I— the 
game is still afoot 1' 

"'On my honouramost delightful lencoD- 
tre I— it is a little farmer's wife I' 

" ' So much the better— i like these country 
girls vastly—' 

"' The devil. Marquis 1 What 1 a country 
girl promenading Paris in the middle of the 
night I The liltle innocent must be immense- 
ly courageous I' 

*' ■ Come, come, chevalier, thou hast always 

Ksoms wicked thought in thy beod. I will 
, a wager that the poor child is only come 
town to sell her e^.' . 
'* ■ Let her be come for what she nuy she 
shall not return till my mustachios have been 

with highflyers. As be could not run away 
from them, for they encircled him complete- 
ly, heendeavDured toget ridof them by say- 
ing in a feigned voice — 

*" Gentlemen, fur heaven'saake, let me go ; 
1 am not what you lake me for.' 

"But bis praTen were unheeded; they 

e eased rotUM bun and caught hold of him ; 
rban, impatient of their proceedings, saw 
no other means of getting away than by 
making himself known, and he accordingly 
exclaimea in his natural voice — • 

*' ' Leave me, gentlemen ; I repeat you are 
mistaken in me.' 

"These words, pronounced by the bache- 
lor in away thatloAno doubt of hissei,pnv 
duced upon the four young lords tfaeeflectof 
llediiaa's bead ; they were struck motionless ; 
but soon they iw burst intoa roar of laughtar, 

'' ' It is a man I A most unique adventure I' 
Yes^ geatlemen, it is s man,' replied 
Urkan ; ' Iliope you will now allow me to 
pursue my way.' 

" ■ For my part I have no objection,' said 
one of the pany. 

■"Come, cc»ne-,TilIebelle,' cried another, 
' let the lad go— toou seest il is not a girl !— 
'faith, I believe he has drank so much wine 
that he does not yet perceive his mistake. 
Bh, Cbevaliw.' 

" Villebelle, however, whose head was 
heated by wine, persisted in detaining Urban. 

" ' An instant, my lad,' said be. ■ We know 
ihou art not a girl ; so far so good ; but by all 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Df. KiKfM Novels. 


the devils, ilresaed up in tbia way, thou must 
hnve bad some pleasant adventures ; relate 
them, tfaey will divert lu, and tbeo thou Bhalt 
be Ql liberty.' 

" ' Yes, ycB,' repealed the olhera, ' he rnunt 
tell MS vhy hu's dressed up as a woman.' 

"■I shall regale the private levce of Ihe 
cardinal to-morrow with thia advenluro,' 

" ■ And I shall tell it Marion de Lorme.' 

■"Ishntj get Bois.Robert to put it hito 
verse for the court.' 

"•Colletet shall make a comedy of M ; 
ome, tell us.' 

'''Once more, gentlemen, allow me lo^o,' 
aatd the bachelor impatienlly. ' What right 
bave you to question mel I hare nothing to 
tell you, and will go !' 

" So snying, he again pushed backj the 
Marquis, but Ilie latter slopt his wey.'and 
draw bis sword, exclaiminK — 

" ' On my honour the little fellow ia quite 
In a passion ! This is too ridiculous! "Thou 
Bhalt ftpL'ak, or we will muke thee leap our 
swords like a water spaniel.' 

" ' Insolent !' cried Urban furiously ; ' if I 
had a weapon you would not dare to use thia 
langunee, or, at least, I should make you re- 
pent it T' 

" ' Indeed !— Parbleu 1 I'll see how thou 
canst use a sword t Chevalier, lend bin) 

" ' What, Villebelle ! wouldst thou—' 

" ' Certainly, a duel with n country girl ! — 
it will be amusing ;bome,gentlemen, n ring !' 

" With ibeHo words the Marquis took the 
aword ofoneofhis companions and presented 
it to Urban. 

V '' ' Here,' said he, ' is wbcrewith to deiend 
thyself. Now, on your guard, boy-girl 1 and 
let ua see if thou art brave as tbou art obsti- 

" Urban coRerly leised the swnrd, and at 
once sllacked ihe Harquis; though embfir- 
rnssed with hia peiticoals and hia slays, he 
rushed with impetuosity on his adversary, 
who, parrying his thrusts, cried every io- 

" ' Ciood ! — very good, upon my honour 1 
—Look, gentlemen — there's a parry ! — a cap- 
ital thrust 1— Peste ! I need all my nddreaa 

"The passing of Urban'a -sword through 
the Marquis's fore-arm cut short theaootence ; 
his sword fell from his hand ; his friendaaur- 
rounded and held him up ; Urtian himself ap- 
proached to asaiat him. 

"'It is nottiing, it is nothing,' said the 
Marquis. — * Adieu, my friend, thou art a 
brave fbllow, I am glad to have tnsde thine 
acquaintance, though I know not with whom 
I tukve been engaged.' " 

There is sound truth iti ihe concluding 
nmarks of the foDowing : — Urban, still dresa- 
edaa agirl.sacceedainperauHdiag Blaiche's 
attendant that he has a ir.agtc story to tell ; 
and aa the latter and her fair oharge are 
closely immured by the Barber, thecurionitv 
Of the old damp, and her love of the marvcf- 
lous and of secrets, overcome her scruples. 

'* Margaret hastened to Blanche ; since the 
evening of the serenade, the poor girl bad in ■ 
deed been more pensive than before ; she 
never sang any thing but the burden of her 
favourite romance ; and the viUaneUlt, the vi- 
Ttlait, the old tenqanu, no longer amused her. 
Margaret went up lo her, and whispered in a 
mysterious tone, 

■> < We shall have a visitor (o-Dieht !' 

"'A visitor!' said Blanche ; 'Ah I Mon- 
sieur Ghaudoreille, no doubt.' 

" No i a young country girl, very pretty ; 
you don't know ber. A poor girl who has 
a treasure, — and wants acoolt's place, — who 
wishes to remain virtuous,— and has come 
to Paris, — who fears the devil,— and fears 
nothing ' 

" ' ] don't understand you.' 

" ' Hush ! bush ! be silent ! She will come 
Uiis eveuing and relate her history lo us -f— 
il is about a very curious mystery; but si- 
lence ! not a word I Monsieur Touquei must 
not have a notion of such a thing, for he 
would forbid poor Ursula to come and chat 
with us, and that would vex me very much, 
— K>n your account, my child, for it will amuse 

"*Uh! be easy; I shall say nothing about 
it ;' cried Blanche, jumping for joy about the 
room ; for the promised visit was to ber an 
extraordinary event, and the slightest novel- 
ty is delightful to those who pass their lives 
in a monotonous way. Thus, a storm, how- 
ever furious, serves to amuse and occupy the 
poor prisoner ; a bottle of wine is a regale 
to one who is accustomed lo get nothing but 
water lo drlnk^ [he sounds of a Barbery or- 
gan uppcar dclu'ious to peasants ; a ticket for 
the play will crown the wishes of the poor 
work-girl at tea sous a-day ; a muslin gown 
will nmke the rnWMe happy ; and Sunday 
is impatiently looked forward lo by those 
who toil nil ibe week ; while to many people, 
pIsyB, banquets, music, dress, have no longer 
any power of rejoicing their hearts. Ac- 
cording lo this, it would seem, that the poor 
are happier than the rich.'' 

h is but just, before pactiing on, to give 
the render a lively sketch from a work re- 
cently published, of the popularity and esli- 
naiion of Paul de Kock. 

" We nowcnme to an author who has en. 
joytd, and still enjoys, more celebrity than 
any living writer; ihat is to say, if the ex- 
tent of u man's reputation be judged by ihe 
number of his readers. From [ne highest 
lady in her luxurious boudoir, lo the poorest 
grintte in her miserable attic, — from the 
lordly paladin in hia spacious library, to (be 
obsequious porter in his narrowlodge, — from 
the statesman who mounts the tribune in the 
Chamber of Deputies, to the copying clerk 
in the attorney's office, — from the Colonel of 
the regiment, to the private senline! in the 
ranks, — all have perused the novels of this 
distinguished writer — all classes have pored 
those pnges which teem with gaietj' 


Ve Koek't Novelt. 

aud mirth, relieved by the finest touches of 
pathos and fesliug — all have felt the magic 
charm of Ihis greot enchanter ! A new 
novel by Poul de Keck creates a more pow- 
erful sensation than the speech or the King 
himself; and on the day of publtcalion, not 
a diligence, not a mail, not a public convey- 
ance leaves [he French nielrapolis without 
bearing lo the country librarians of all parts 
a package of the anxiously. a waited volumes. 
'j'her« is not a circulating hbrar? throughont 
France that does not possess one or more 
complete seta of his works : there is not a 
news-room wiiere, amongst the few dozens of 
ataodard books which grace the little shelf 
iu the corner, the novels of Paul de Kock 
are not to be found. His popularity extends 
lo the meanest and most dislaiil cottsge in 
the empire: there exists not a labourer who 
tills the land in the remotest province, that 
has not heard of Paul de Kock, and laughed 
at some village pedant's recital of the beat 
episode in his last work. 

■' Mount the imperial of the dillgencei and 
the CondncUvT will talk to you of Paul de 
Kocb. Converse with the filU du comploir 
in a Ca(£, and she will nsk you to lend her 
his lately published novel. Hire a cabriolet 
de place, and the driver will tell you 
he has just perused Paul de Kock's 
work. Chatter with your porter's wife, when 
she brings you your newspaper in the mom. 
ing, and she will call your attention to the 
critique of Paul de Kock's book in the Feuil. 
leton. Speak lo your cook relative (o your 
dinner having been late the day before, and 
she will throw the blame upon Paul de 
Kock. Aak your friend why he broke his 
appointment, and the reply will be the same 
In fine, M. Charles Paul de Kock engrosses 
public attention aa much as the prices of the 
fUndF, the measures of the ministers, or the 
mir in Spain, He is a Matuieur Toumm 
whose exiatence is interminable. 

" Nor is his popularity alone conlined to 
Prance : it extends to every corner of Eu- 
rope where books are read. In religious — 
in strict — in domestic communiiiw, are bis 
works devoured with as much enthusiasm a; 
they are by the indolent and luxurious Pa- 

" But let it not be supposed that Paul de 
Kock can write nothing save humorous lales- 
His sentioient will frequently wring tears 
from the eyea. No one can peruse passages 
of Sam- Anne, Frirt Jaequu, or La Lai. 
tiere de Monlfermeil, without experiencing 
the moat tender emotions ; but no lasting 
impression is made upon the mind by the 
scenes which M. de Kock thus envelopes in 
pathos and melancholy, because the almost 
immediate occurraaca of aomeltiing exces- 

lively ludicrous effaces the reminiscence of 

he sentimental episode. 

"The wonderful imaginalioD of Paul de 
Kock, and his astonishing powers of inven- 
■nn, are not the least poitions of his ge- 

We quote the following amusing passage, 
not less humorous and original, nor less il- 
luatralive of rumour, than the " Three Black 

" The fact was, that the neighbourhood, 
larmed by the criesof Durand m the street, 
and hearing him hallooing atter 'lagardeP 
fancied he was summoning military assist^ 
instead of a nurse ; end up to the period 
when the history takes leave of her, the ser- 
vant continually declared that Monsieur 
Durand bad expressly called in a regiment 
of soldiers to see his wife brought to bed." — 
p. 243. 

He who has never travelled In a long- 
stage with six dowagers and a child or two 
in H July night, overcoming us like a sum- 
mer's dream, he is a man loved by (ho gods, 
and ought to die young and in blissful inno- 
cence. The fair one who has never entered 
omnibus ofier a long hurried walk with 
the thermometer at 118 degrees, to save the 
glories of furbelow and flounce, can alone 
be indifferent to the folbwiog : — 

■' Towards the end of the month of No- 
vember last year, one of thooe Damec- 
blanches which come down from La Villetie 
to traverse a part of Paris, was scarcely 
moro than one-third of its way, when, at a 
sign Id the coachman, it stopped, and a lady 
of forty appeared on the steps. A general cry 
rose in the carriage, which was nearly full, 
■t the appearance ot the new traveller. The 
person wtio presented herself was, it ia true, 
extremely corpulent; she could well have 
filled three places, and there was but one va- 
canton the left bench. Theiravellerauntbe 
right side had some difficulty in repressing 
the inclination to laugh which the sight of 
this lady produced ; those on tbeleit made 
many grimaces of dissatisfaction at the new 
comer, whom they were to be compelled to 
receive on their bench, but no one moved to 
make room for her. * 

" ' Sit closer on the left,' said the conduct- 
or, makine the fat lady mount, whose person 
hermetically closed the door, and who, not 
knowing where to place herself, held in one 
band the leathern loop and leant the other 
Bgninst the first knee she met with. ■ Sit a 
liuU closer,' said, in a jocular tone, a man in 
a blouze and otter-skin cap — who was seat* 
ed on the unlucky left side. 'That is good 
of the conductor; we must have a famous 
place for this li 111 sl madam- Ah I well, she 
IB one who enjoys good health.* 

Digitized byGoOgIC 

Th Koek'i Novel*. 


" 'fm mjrpart 1 cannot tnove,' said an old 
woman near the door ; ' I am already horri- 
biy crowded by the lady who carries on her 
lap a child that ou^hl to pay for a whole 
place, and is never Btill ; and puis his feet on 
my dreas — it's most ngreeable.' 

*' These reproaches were addressed to a 
respectabta nurae who held on her knees a 
little boy of four or five years old, that had 
never ceased to eat apples and gingerbread 
since he entered the carriage- The nurse 
cast a glance on ber ancient neighbour and 
staruggedbershoulders, muttering, Take care 
not to stain ibe lady's dress— so clean and 
fresh as it is. 

" Nevertheless the fat lady is still at the 
eutranoei looking round to where she shall 
seat herself; and (he conductor repeats from 
wilhouu ' To the left, ma'am ; go In ; 1 tell 
you there is room on the left.' 

■■The traveller resolves to try. she relin- 
quishes the loop, preferring to depend on the 
knees to the right and left. The conductor 
then pulls his siring (hat the coach may go 
on ; but the movement causes the lady to lose 
her equilibrium. She falls on a basket be- 
longing to a country-woman, who utters ter- 
rible cries, saying, ■ Vou will break all my 
eggs, take care there : Ah my Qod, nnd my 
measure of apples ! well, is this the way to 
tumble on people !' Driven off by the pea- 
sant, who was a vigorous person, the lady fell 
between agroceranda mechanic. Thegro- 
cer, who was thin and small, disappeared in 
a moment behind the voluminous form of the 
lady, but he was heard to cry in a stifled 
voice, ■ Madame, get off. I entreat you ; I 
shall be euflfocated ; t will not carry you— 
get off— ouf— or I will run a pin into your 

•' ' But, Sir, since the conductor insists that 
there is room' 

" 'But, Madame, that is nothing to me. I 
have paid for my own seat ; place yourself 
on s stool' — • 

" ' Surely — the men are very gallant at 
Paris ; and I should never have thmight that 
a lady would be received la a coacn as an 

" 'The mechanic, rather more courteous, 
pressed himself against a nurse who was at 
his tefl,BndsBid totheonormouslady,- 'See 
if Tou oan place yourself here.' ' I am very 
willing to try ; we shall not be cold.' The 
lady hastens to let herself sink into the place 
prepared for ber ; the two neiKhbours, the 

Eocer and mechanic, are half hidden by 
r, but she is seated, and seems to defy the 
world lo remove her from the place she had 
had BO much trouble to obtain. 

" Nolwithstanding— all the lefl side of the 
dame-blancbe complaincand look vexed. 
The grocer, of whom the conductor has just 
demanded his fare, replies angrily, ' Search 
in my pockets : If you can, you will be 
lucky ! I cannot move an arm — if we remain 
long in this state, this lady, who is almost 
upon me, must have tbe civility to u;o my 
handkerchiefform ; that will b« pteasaoter 

The following ts one of the few instances 
in which De Eock puts forth his powers. It 
tells its own tale — Tourlourou signiAea a re> 

" ■ No. no, Pierre, T wish that you should 
know all,' answered the young girl, endea- 
vouring to restrain her sobs, ■ f will keep 
mv promise, Pierre ; you loved me in the 
village — your love was sincere, I see it plain- 
ly ( lought to have been proud of your pre- 
ference, for you were more highly esteemed 
than any lad in the town. But 1 was a co> 
quct— I wished to see Paris— I knew not 
what ideas tormented me. Soon it was much 
worse, I was told that I was the daughter of 
a duchess, that I should some day be very 
rich. Oh, it was then in my reveries thai 1 
fancied myself a great lady ! Well, Pierre, 
ail this was false. Madame de Stainville 
was mistaken, the Duchess of Valousky has 
never had a child. It was a manuscript that 
she bad left at the Tourne-bride. This ma- 
nuscript was put in Gsspaid's care, therefore 
he knew well that I was not a duchess, and 
he allowed me to think so only to punisQ me 
for having slighted your love.' 

" 'Can it be r said Pierre— ■what, you are 
not a great lady — you have not a large for- 
tune. Ah, what happiness I But pardon me, 
Marie, I rejoice in (nat which gives you pain. 
Ah ! that is very wrong in me — it is because 

I could not master but, my God ! can it 

be from grief at not being a duchess that 
you wished to die 1 Oh, no, (his is not possi- 
ble ; 'at your age we do not die of grief for 
the loss of fortune.' 

" • No, Pierre, you are right ; it is not Ibis 
which reduced me to despair. Although I 
have been humiliated, driven away from tbe 
lady, who made me quit (hu house where I 
had been brought up, — I could liave borne 
all this— but another motive — ah, now in- 
deed you will despise me.' 

" ■ [despise you I never, never ; but speak, 
Marie, go on.' 

■> ■ Pierre, twice you have saved roe when 
fallen into snares — when about to become 
the viciim of my confidence ; but, alss ! you 
were not always there— and then that time 
it was not a snare that was laid for me — it 
was accident— my weakness — Pierre, I can 
never reium to (he village, for I bear with 
me the pledge of my fault ; and he who has 
made me a mother can never be my bus- 

" ' Mother,' murmured Pierre, turning 
pale ; the head of the soldier bent towards 
the earth, and he appeared for some instants 
overwhelmed by tbe avowal Marie had made, 
while the ^oung girl wept and still covered 
her fooe with her hands. But soon the fea- 
tures of Pierre became animated, bia eyea 
flashed fire, and he cried — 

<" Who is he, the wretch, who has de- 
graded you 1 his name — speak 1 speak ! Marie, 
he shall marry you, or I will have bis life.' 

'■ ' 1 will not tell his name, because I can- 
not be his wife ; snd I will not have you shed 
his blood. No, 1 ought not to be avenged, 



Dt Kccie$ Novelt. 


becaow in this case there were neither Bntrea 
nor seduclions. 1 thought I was beloved — 
becBuao I loved 1 sought out him who thought 
not of me. Ask me no more for hia name, 
Pierre, for I repeat 1 will never tell it you.' 

'"You loved him !' said Pierre, beaving a 
■lefa; 'Tou loved him, and yet you were not 
beloved 1 while I'— and two laige tears fell 
from the eyes of the soldier. 

'■ ' You now see, Pierre, that I had cause 
to wish to die, and that I can never again re- 
turn to the village.' The soldier paused 
some time without aniwering; his head sunk 
upon his breast, and he appeared absorbed 
in profound reflection. Suddenly he raised 
his head, his brow cleared, and he extended 
his hand to Marie, saying, 

" ■ Dear Harie, you have told me that 
henceforth I should be the arbiter of your 
fete; do you still consent to itV 

'''Yes, Pierre, because if I had always 
followed your counsels, I ibould now have 
nothing to reproach myself with.' 

" ' Well, Harie, all your misfortunes may 
yet be repaired ; become my wife, I will be 
a father to your child ; and never, I swear to 
you, never will I again name to you the fault 
that roll have committed.' 

" ' Pierre I what do you say ! I yeur wife I 
and would you still have the poor Marie V 

"'Listen,' said Pierre, 'if I have support- 
ed life, was it not in the hope of consnirBling 
it entirely to you 1 It required coursge even 
In me not to yield to despair when you re- 
jected my love; and now would you render 
this courage unavailing, and would you again 
refuge me when I can restore you to honour 
—to repose— when 1 can save you from a 
crime 7' Pierre had thrown himself at the 
feet of Marie, and he pressed to his heart 
and lips the hands of the young girl, who, 
touched hy such noble devotion, so true a 
love, felt that she mi^ht yet be happy ; and, 
gtvine her hand to Pierre, said, 

" ' Dispose of me as you will, my existence 
b yours.' " 

But our favourite tale is the touch! 
story of Zizine — the most graceful form of 
infancy — a child, poor, timid, quiei and fond 
—the pencil that sketched her was dipped 
in the brightest light heaven sheds upon 
earth and its earthly inhabitants. We ihall 
extract largely from this ponii 

She carried under her arm a round 4 lb. 
loaf, a burden that must have been heavy 
; yet she appeared proud of carrying 
it, and looked at it with great triumph. Ar- 
rived at the landing, she held down her head 
on seeing strangers, and directed her steps 
towards another little dark staircase, much 
like the ladder of a mill, and in a comer of 
the roof. Fourrfe (the porter) stopped the 
child, sBvine — 'Ah. vouner one. tell vour ft. 

■vine — 'Ah, young one, tell your la- 
ther the landlord wants his money. What 
the devil ! Jerome laughs at us I — Because 
he is ill he thinks we shall forget the rent he 
owes; but bis eoodii will be sold if he does 
not pay— tell him that from me." The child 
looked at the porter with a small countenance 
of mingled fear aad shame ; then quickly 
climbed the ladder and disappeared. M. 
Guerreville, who at first paid no attention to 
the child, turned as the porter spoke to her; 
he examined that little face, so pale, so thin ; 
the features so small and delicate, surround- 
ed by curls of bright chestnut hair; and he 
was surprised at the thoughtful expression of 
that very young countenance. 

" This little girl had neither regular fea- 
tures nor rosy cheeks ; it was not one of 
those fat, puffy cherubs, of whom it is custo- 
mary to say ' what a fine child !' nor one of 
those perfect heads which painters love to 
put in their pictures ; it was a slight, pale, 
delicate, serious girl, whom many persons 
would not have reniarked, and others would 
have thought plain; but who possessed a 
charm for those who could read the expres- 
sion of her countenance." 

A parent's love bad consecrated one spot — 

" M- Guerreville hod followed (he porter 
and penetrated into a miserable room, whose 
wretched appearance wrunghis heart. Them 
was no paper lobidethe walls and the beemi 
which {armed the ceiling; no curtains to 
the sloping window that admitted the light ; 
a poor slump bedstead, a table, a few chairs, 
B tittle buffet of white wood which had been 
slightly varnished,— this was all the furni- 
ture of the room ; but in a corner, a few 
boards had been fixed up to make a separa- 
tion, which formed a sort of closet. There 
was placed a little child's bed ; this bed was 
of walnul-tree, very clean and bright, sur- 
mounted by a rod in form of an arrow, and 
'" thrown curtains of green, which 

M. Guerreville is a widower, who hasjcouW ■"""ound the bed of the little girl, and 
•■ ■ • • ■ '■ ■■ screen her from the light which fell perpen- 

dicularly into this gloomy retreat. 

lost his daughter also; and to reli_ . 
melancholy ne one day lakes to hnnting out 
lodgings) — in a house in a very humble 

" A little girl of.six was mounting to (he 
fiiurth story just as M. Guerreville put his 
foot on the first step to descend. The child 
was poorly and thmlr dressed for ihe sea- 
son ; a cap of brown cloth covered her head ; 
a gown patched In many parts ; an old black 
apron, composed all her dress; and her tiny 
leet were already inclosed in wooden shoes. 

•'Having opened the door, the little girl 
went back and seated herself close to the 
sick man's bed, whose hand she took within 
her own ; trying to read in his eyes the in- 
pression made upon him by this unexpected 

"' Ah, yes— (bis is money well employed t' 
said the porter, takine a pincb of snuff with 
ereat importance. 'To buy dolls and little 
turoiture for this little brat ; how can any 
one hcsosillvl besides they ore not cheap 

I, L.ooi^le 


De Koek's Ifavtl*. 


plaything! 7011 buy, but handsomo dolls, 
two fVancs a-piece.' 

" 'Ah,— but listen to me. Monsieur Fourr* ; 
it is because 1 ihink noihiug too good For my 
Zinzinette — my little girl— my litile angel— 
and now my little nurse. Ah 1 I should have 
liked to buy much handsomer things for her.' 

'* Without appeeriog even to hear what 
the porter was saying, M. Guerreville put 
his hand on the cheek of the little girl, and 
while caressing her, said to ihe Auvergoat, 
'la it your only child V ' Yes, Sir.' 'And 
you love her muchtdo you nolV ' Dol love 
her! — Oh, she is my little treasure. Poor 
child ! since I have been ill she has taken 
care of me^ relieved my thirst, gone out to 
fetch bread and every thing 1 bid her. She 
is very young — only six and a half, but yet 
there is in that little head more ihoueht and 
sense than In many older ones.' M. Guerre- 
ville made him no answer, he was again lost 
in thought, his head sunk upon his breast, 
and deep grief painted on all his reatures. 

" ' Is it possible to stint oneself thus for a 
childV cried M. Fourre. putting out his head 
from behind the boards. ' Here are three 
good mattresses on the bed of this little one, 
and yet her fatheriies upon a hard palliasse.' 

" 'If that pleases itie, Mr. Porter,' said 
Jerome, impatiently, ' I think I have a right 
to sleep as 1 like ; and for me, who am nei- 
ther delicate nor difficult, it does very well ; 
bat this little pet, Oh ! she muH be treated 
tenderly, voU see, she is so delicate, so fra- 
gile ; the least thing would hurt her.' 

" ' Would not one think she was the child 
of a prince ! 1 love my children, but cer- 
tainly I could not deprive myself of comforts 
for them— Ah, well, Sir, you have had time 
to look at this room, I must go down — if it 
suits you for 50 francs, you shall have It, 
I'll take the beans elsewhere.' 

" On concluding these wordslhe Auvergnat 
drew the Utile girl to his bed, and embraced 
her tenderly ; ' And I am blamed,' he odded, 
' for buying her fine dolls. — Oh, but I let Ihe 
world talk and do. as 1 like, don't 1, Zinzi- 
nette T 

" The child smiled and said, ' Oh, 1 take 
great care of my dolly ; she sleeps with 
and I'll make her a frock, for a lady in 
house has promised me some very handsome 

■' ' Yes, yes j you are a good contriver, 
and everybody in the house loves you, ex- 
cept the porter, who never speaks to you but 
to say something harsh ; but he sha'n'l abuse 
VOU neither, for I will break my pails over 
his hack.' 

M. Guerreville lakes his lesve of ihi 
house, giviog all the money he had about 
him to the child, and goes down st 
where the porter waited his descent, 

''And the hand of the porter was still held 
out before M. Qiierreville, but he, after Iry. 

in^ his pockets, where be found nothing, put 
aside the arm which barred his passage, and 
quitted (be house, saying, — ' Ah, I am sorry, 
but Ihave nothing about me.' M. Fourr^ re- 
mained an instant stupified with anger ; at 
length he struck his cap with his hand, cry- 
ing, ■ I am robbed, as in a wood ; was ever 
heard such meanness) a well-dressed man 
dare tell me he has no money .—Fie, it is 
dis^ceful!— Now that man, — afier all, 1 
believe he is on informer— a spy.'" 

M. Guerreville recognizes a former mis. 
tress, and the contrast of past memoirs in the 
two sexes ia happily managed — the coldness 
of man, iho ever-active fondness of woman. 

" ■ Pardon me. Madam, indeed I feel that 
am farfromnmiable — 1 respond but ill to 
your friendship —but you know well I was 
always rather quick, impetuous. And since 
you saw me, grief has so embittered my 
temper, that onen for a word, for the least 
thing, Iiuffer myself to give way to emotions 
of angei, of impatience, for which I blush. 
Ah, my society is no longer agreeable. I 
am no longer that Kdwarnwhomyou knew 
formerly, and lima has altered my cha- 
racter even more than my features.' ■ Oh! 
you will always be to me the only man for 
whom ny heart has ever throbbed. I do 
not think you changed- If you would smile 
again you would be still the same. You have 
had I roubles,— poor dear friend !— but you 
did not confide them to me. The last time 
I met you, four years ago, you may recollect 
that I perceived a secret grief agitated you ; 
and I then entreated you 10 confide your sor- 
rowslo me, but you rejected my consolation.' 
* II is because there are pains which no con- 
solation can soflen, and these— I think we 
ought 10 keep at the bottom of our heart.' 

'■'But, my Godl what has happened to 
you then that is so cruell is it reverse of 
fortune I Oh no, I know you well enough 
to be certain that such events would be sup- 
ported by you wilh philosophy. You are a 
Widower — and the death of your wife must 
have grieved you deeply, for I know that you 
loved ner much, atthougnyou were guilty of 
numerous infidelities, — but men ore privileg- 
ed to unite love to inconstancy ; It is a rigfat 
they have arrogated to themselves, and which 
they use largely, in short, you loved your 
wife tenderly, but I Ihink it is more than ten 
years since she died, and I have seen you 
since sad, but not desponding. You had a 
daughter, a daughter you adored, of whom 
you spoke to me incessantly. Can anytfalng 
have happened to your dear Pauline I' At 
the name of Pauline, the countenance of M. 
Guerreville changed, a dnrk cloud covered 
his brow, his looks sunk to the earth, and he 
murmura] in an agitated voice, ' No, no, no> 
thing bos happened to my daughter, but she 
has not been with me for a long lime— she ie 

"'Whal, your daugbler married, and _ 
you have consented to pari from horV ' It ' 
was necessary, i I wasforher hoppiness. 

I qitizedbyGoOgle 

D» KMi*! TioteU. 


■■ ' Whare do«a abe reside oowV 'Very 
ftr off. la Daupbin^'.— ' And you V~' I am In 

*■ ' Have fou no longer your fine eatate 
n«ar Orlesas V ' Yea. but tince my wire 

died and my daughter marriedt I wearied 

«f it ; this is the reason why I have travelled 
Ibr some time — and ddw I am determined to 
remsiQ a tittle while In Paris.' 

" * Oh, how giad I am to hear it. I hope 
Tou will come and uee ui ; you will not live 
like a hermit, you will not ny from society ; 
and your gcNl- daughter, your little Agathe, 
do you not wish to see, to embrace herl 
For my part 1 have often spoken to her of 
her godfather, poor little thing ; It is nearlv 
twelve years since she haa seen you. On 
yes, it is quite as long aa that since you came 
to our bouse. Perhaps she would not know 
you, but I intend ebe shall oome to-morrow 
and pay her respects to ber godfother. My 
maiaabaU bring her to you, fi>r my daugh- 
ter never goes out alone. Do you permit it, 

•■ ' CertalDly— and yet— your husband.' 
• Oh, my husband — you well know it is not 
he who rules the bouse—eicept his dinner. 
Besides, Monsieur Grillon is much attached 
to you ; he will be delighted to see you 
again. He has oAeti asked me if I had 
heard from you, aad I shall please him 
much by telling him you are in Paris. Ah 
give me your address, for it is still posilbli 
you may not come to lee ua ; but at least 1 
will send yon my Agatbe, I wish you to see 
how pretty afae is ; how much she is like her 
— — But, my Godl what does tbia signify 
to you 1 Ah, these men, these men I they 
do not long continue amiable.' 

" M. Guerreville drew from his pocket a' 
card, on which was bis name and address : 
he presented it to Madame Grillon, who put 
it into her bag, and pressed his hand, saying, 
'Agathe shall go and embrace her godfa- 
ther. Then, sir, in friendship to this dear 
child, you will perhaps condescend to come 
and see ua sometimes.' 

"They parted, the lady smillngj 
Guerreville compelling himself to returi 

A second scene, somewhat similar, awaits 
him, as he goes into a shop to buy git 

'' He enters ; a female is silting alone at 
the counter. M. Guerreville scarcely looks 
at the dealer ; be asks for gloves, and while 
they are sought for be sils before the coun- 

** The boxes were opened and examined . 
the dealer appeared quite agitated ; she 

looking at M. Guerreville, who paid no at- 
tention, and had already relapsed into medi. 

" ' These will perhaps suit you, sir,',was ai. 
last said In a trembling voice. It Guerre- 
ville put out hta band, but Mt It gently 

VOL. XXtV, "' 

pressedt wtftont any attempt at trying on . 
the gloves; he raised his eyes towards the 
dealer. Their eyes met. 

" ' Marie !' cried M. GuerrevillE. ' Yes, 
sir, yes, Marie- You came IQ then without 
knowing that tbia shop belonged to me.' " 

" ' But have you no other consolation T 
Marie raised her head and ^zed at M. 
Guerreville ; an expression of joy antfhated 
her features, and she cried, 'Ah you have 
not then forgotten him. 1 frlshed to see if 
you would speak of him— if you still thought 
of him — that poor child — my idol — my 

treasure— my son! the Oh, but my 

God I tell me at least ihat you have some 
affection for him ; that you wish to see him 
— to embrace him — tell me so, sir, that I 
may know the sweetest pleasure of a mother 
— that my heart may again leap with joy I 
Oh yea I yes, you wish to see him : do you 

" 'You may be assured I shall give the 
preference to this house. Hers is mv ad* 
dress i say to— (o your son, that I am always 
at home till noon.' ■ Ob, I shall not forget 

' Adieu Madame' — 'Adieu, Monsieur.' 
M. Guerreville exchanged another 
glance with the fair perfumer ; he then 
quilted the shop, and returned home, saying, 
' Singular day — these are meetings which I 
did not expect.— Poor woman 1— nil this bad 
passed away from my memory.' " 

The fair Agatha, his GoiJ-child, (a de- 
nomination adopted, wa presume, to show 
the parent's pious reverence for this gift of 
heaven) is an accossplisbed specimen of 
what we should have been tempted to send, 
with Cuvier, to its proper class, the board- 
ing-sclKiol ; but in these limes of " Semina- 
ries and Societies" such establishments are 
but fossil remains. The young lady's 
biography is given by herself with a olear- 
neas of detail that itself speaks volumes for 

accuracy. The happy father asks— 

' ' Yonr porenis have doubtless attended 

your eduoattoD 1' 'Oh I yes, godpapa, 

certainly I have been well taken care of, bu 

I was removed from the first boarding-school 
where they put me, because we had hash 
every dav for dinner— I complained to 
mama, who mentioned to the under-gover- 
ness that hash made me sick — tbia ladv told 
the mistress, who said that she should ncrf 
alter the plans of the house for me— mama 
thought tDia answer very impolite, and re- 
moved me to another sohool, where I was 
much better satisfied — they bad on week- 
days lentila and potatoes with beef— dww I 
do not much like potatoes, but delight in 
lentils, eapeciallv with oil— but if youknew, 
godpapa, how little oil they pot in their 
salads at boarding-schools— I really think 
thej often put none at all— and that is very 
bad for the stomach— one of my friend 
' • Is it long sinee yoa were removed 

Bt KoeVt Novtlt. 

from scbocJI' 'Oh 7ei,«ishlees iDontbs, 
'godpapa, papa and mama thought I knew 
quite eDOUfrh — that I need not team any 

more' 'What do you know then I' "Oh, 

godpapa, I know how to iinK a little, I can 
plav on the piano a little, and drav a little.' 
— 'It eeema that you know little of every 
thing.' ' Yea, godpapa, and besidea — 1 dance 
very well — Oh, I dearly love dancing, mania 
likewise loves dancing, at the ball we are 
partners, and mama saya we are olwaya 

taken for aistera, ' '' 

This lucid narrative, whether satiafactory 
or not to the father, will be more than satii- 
fectory to our readera. We return to Zi- 
xine, who had been taken into a rich family, 
conaisting of a young lady of sixteen and 
her grandmother, aa a sort of living pet-doll 
for the former, who was attached to her with 
girlish fondneaa. Stephanie, however, goes 
to a ball for the first time and there falls in 
love ; ahe returns late and goes to bed to 
dream of her lover : — 

" The next day the little Zlzine watched 
till her young protectress waked ; the child 
during their abaenco bad dressed her doll 
exactly as Stephanie was dressed for the 
ball; she thought to cause an agreeable 
surprise to her kind friend, and, seated near 
the bed, holding her beButiful doll, in her | 
lap, she waited in silence lilt Stephanie 
should open her eyes. The happy moment 
at length arrived, the young girl murmured 
something; Zizine ran to embrace her, then 
abowed her the doll, saying—* Look, see how 
gay end fine you were yesterday.' Stepha- 
nie amiled. but she did Dot laugh, as she 
usually did when playing with her litllepet: 
she seemed even to look st the dolt with in- 
difference. Siephanie, while dressing, told 
Zizine ntl that bad happened the night be- 
fb re at the ball; and during the whole day 
she could talk of nothing else; but when 
Zizine proposed to friay with the doll, Ste- 
phanie refused, acknowledging that it would 
not amuse her ; and tittle Zizine in astonish- 
ment exclaimed, but — it amused you « 
much yesterday t Yes — yesterday — muj 
mured Stephanie, in a meditative lone. Fc 
the cbild. yesterday was but the distance of 
one day : for the young lady, it was no lon- 
ger any thing but the vague Biemory of a 
former life." 

A common sensation ia happily, though 
slightly sketched — 

courage to go out, his heart oppressed _ 
almost bursting with tears, he remained 
home sitting near a table, his head resting 
on bii hand, he questioned himself whence 
could arise ibis increased weight of vexation 
and sorrow. And yet on this day the sky 
vas clear and bright ; the sun was not con- 
cealed by a aingle cloud." 

The feelings of a motber'a long and hid. 
den tenderness, is beaulifiii, though slight, 
and given but with a single touch : — 

"In pronouncing these words a bitter 
smite crossed the lips of the lair perfumefi 
who added, with a sigh—' And doubtlesa it 
likewise was a myrtle that this young per* 
son oflered to M. Guerrevitlo T 

" ' Yes, HMther. we had each the same 
shrub; U.Guerreville gave bis god-daugh- 
ter a little pockelbook,and to me these tal>. 
lets, which are very elegant— see, here they 
a^n, dear mother— I have not yet opened 

" Marie look the tablets, drew out th» 
pencil which fastened them, and a bank-note 
fell out and fluttered on the counter. 'A 
thousand francs,' exclaimed Julius, examin- 
ing the note ; and a bright look of pleasure 
passed over his features — though he turned 
directly after to his mother, saying, ' But 
may I accept so considerable a gift T ' Yea, 
my eon,' answered Marie, casting dawn her 
eyes. ■ Yes, for in refusing, you might dis- 
please M. Guerreville, and you must be 
carefiil to preserve his friendship.' 

'■Julius then took the bank-note and en- 
closed it in bis tablets, which he seemed 
never weary of admiring ; In a few moments 
his mother said, in a faltering voice, 'And 
did H. Guerreville embrace you?* 'No, 
moiher ; and I did not dare to embrace him, 
although I longed to do so-' 

" ' Not a aingle caress !' said Marie to her- 
self, turning away to conceal her tears. *Ah! 
that would have been more precious than all 
his money.' " 

There is much truth and propriety in the 
following ; — 

" 'How isit that the oflspring of nnhstlowed 
love, of intrigue, and mystery, are viewed 
by us with indifference, while we cbcrtsh the 
children of our marriage, although love has 
frequently tlilte connection with their birth? 
Is it that the first remind us of a. fault or 
weakness which we would gladly forget T 

'' ' No, my dear Guerreville ; but it is, I 
think, because the heart expands only to 
those who give us the sweet name of Father. 
Yes, my friend, this name which demands 
from UB both love and protection, awakes la 
our soul the most tender sentiments of na- 
ture,' " 

The lover of Stephanie, meditating de. 
signs against her unsuspicious innocence, 
contrives to send Zizine out of the house in 
his cabriolet with his servant. She acci- 
dentally returns just in time to her benefac. 
tress, and the disappointed young man vents 
his rage on his servant. 

He is seated In his cabriolet, and bis 
servant, trembliog at hia side, tries in vaiD 
'~ justify himself: — 

■' ' Yuu are a fool, an idiot' said Emile ; ' [ 
had given you my instmctioiH ; you ough 



Bb Koel^i NooeU. 

to have detained the little br&t br any means 
whatever, any contrivances. You ougbt not 
to have brought her baok to Madame Dot- 
bert'a for two hours at least — and after jiiat 
twenty minutes the whelp reappears !'— 

'■ 'Surely, sir, it is not my mult that we 
met the father of ' 

" ' You sboulil not have Btopped.' 

" 'I must then havecrushealnis man, who 
bung at my liorse's heels.' 

■' ■ You should have obeyed me before 
«very thing.' 

" ■ But, dr ' 

"'That'senoughi Idbmissyou; youare 
no laQRer in my service.' 

■■ ^^en he reached home, Emite retired 
to the most remote apartment, end there 
abandoned himadf again to hiapaaaion. He 
broke and destroyed every thing that fell 
under his hands. Valuable furniture, splea- 
did vases, a crowd of pretty trifles which are 
Invented to adorn the apartments of the rich, 
ere sTound and trampled under the feet of 
this Impetuous man, who had never met 
with resistance to bis inclinations, and who, 
for the first time, was unable to indulge these. 
Like a spoiled child, who quarrels with and 

destroys' his playthinss when be meets with 
opposftion to his wilT, Bmile avenges him- 

_n every thing round him; for 

but children of a larger growth, especially 
when they have been spoiled by fortune. 

" ' But fbr the return of this little imp, 
Stephanie would have been mine,' said 
Emile, throwing himself (]uiteexhaustedon a 
sofo; 'she was mine, this lovely, innocent, 
and loving girl I how beautiful in her suppli- 
cation 1— And a child has destroyed all my 
hopes, has placed an obstacle lo my happi- 
ness— a child — the daughterof ft water-bear- 
er— has placed herself in my way ! — I, Emile 
Delaberge ;— I, who have wealth to grati- 
fy my passions: — I, who since I have Men 
of an age to feel them, have met no resistance 
in scattering with profusion this gold upon 
some, and lavishing oaths lo others. It is a 
child that stops me, prevents me from being 
happy ; for what can I do now T Stephanie 
sees ner danger ; site will banceforth be on 
her guard. Cursed Zizine — I hated her al- 
ready. — Ah! I bate her now still more-^f 
it's possible 1 Why can I not break her like 
this glass V And the hand of Emile struck 
forcibly a glass placed on a table near him. 
.The glass broke, but the hand that struck it 
received a large cut ; the blood flowed ; 
Emile paused, blushing for his conduct i—he 
wrapped the wound in his handkerchief, and 
knkmg round him said, ' How absurd I am ! 
What a mess t Shall 1 never know how to 
command myself! I am more than thirty 

fears old, and for these twelve years past 
ow much folly! how many faults! Is it 
not time to pause.* Emile remained long 
absorbed in his reflections; they were not 
cheerful, for his brow darkened, his e^es 
became fixed and gloomy, his respiration 
•bort and oppreasB«l. Who could have re- 
oognizod him as the brilliant and splendid, 

the admiration of drawing-rooms, and the 
envy of his associates." 

M. Querierille of course is the grandfa- 
ther of Zizine ; her mother being the lost 
Pauline, her fother, Emile De la Berge. 
Driven to despair of Stephanie by other 
means, be proposes marriage ; and M. Guei^ 
reville calling to see his grandchild, recog- 
nizes the seducer of his daughter just as tbe 
parties are goins to church. He strikes 
Emiis, fights, and is dangerously wounded j 
the marriage is broken off. And hence 
occurs a catastrophe possible only in Prance. 
The water-carrier, furtous at his patron's 
disaster, waylays Bmilo in his daring acheim 
to ste^ into the chamber of Stephanie. He 
o^rs two cudgels to his antagonist, who, 
however, ia armed ; they fi^t with his pis- 
tols, and Emile is killed by Jeaiu 

This mode of vicarious duelling, which in 
England has of late justly excited so much 
ridicule and disgust at the attempts made 
to introduce or restore it, is far from being 
unusual in France ; and as every man there 
is a gentleman, and has in consequence il 
right to some other man'a life whenever he 
chooses to take it, and whenever he is de- 
sirous of adding to his proper slock of satis- 
faction, and this without the slightest regard 
to diflerence of station, it is not wonderM 
that the aktreme of amenity in commoR 
intercourse, is kept up on the one hand by 
the extreme of stricmeas on the other. We 
have known English officers of some stand- 
ing in the army receive a cartel from n 
Frenobmao in tlie ranks ; and were oni^ 
selves once &voured with an oSer of being 
run through the body incontinent by a gen- 
tleman in blmut, who drove a cart ; but, like 
inglorious Argives, we declined this eminent 
satisfeclion in favour of a prior engagement, 
to diuner witli another friend, resisting the 
temptation of the second invitation from sin. 
cere regard for our readers. 

It may ha a fair qusstkin whether tbia 
facility of redress has not been inflneDtisl on 
the tone of French eociety in every clan ; 
and whether the lotigh EDglishman, with hu 
promptitude of fist, would not, if admitted to 
an equal advanlam with the Usui, feel the 
mural influence u the small sword and dw 
bullet as principles in ethics, without requir> 
ing their physical development attd opera- 
tion lo set at rest any bilious irregularity of 
his intestinal functions, A malhemalical 
demoostration of the peculiar properlieB of 
these instruments of Kueoce would create a 
lively interest widi our popular Institutes, 
and greatly edify the meinbera by their prac- 
tical ^>piic«UDa to any given point in Me- 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

RajfiioiuiTd — LUeniure ofProoen^. 


^haaica; the tnuigle of the one, and the 
ctrcls of the other, satisfacioriLy Bttesting 
the curious felicity of their selection by our 
KDceatgrs as the embleroa of eternity. 

Yet the cast) is belter for tbem as it is, 
■ince evidently, from recent itutances, uoqg 
but a mui of a oertain rank has a tide to 
" benefit of ctersy ;" which in such predica- 
ments is exerteaViiot (» mito its object's life, 
but to leproach his safety whan the danger 
is over. Late illuMraiionaofthis active care 
for the spirit in preference over the flesh of 
the delinquents, wbUst ihcy evince that our 
pastors conscientiously confine themselves to 
the "cure of souls," in tbeir special voca- 
tion, yet have created certain uneasy suspi- 
cions in our minds, whether it would not be 
better for ooe of the privileged class to take 
at once his quietus from the evils of this 
mortal lifet than, by persisting in retaining 
it, subject' himself to stand as a quainlain, 
exposed to the united assaults of those spi- 
ritual champions immediately afterwards. 
" Massa," (Ejected the negro, ** if you 
preac^iee, preaohee ; if you fioggee, floggee 
but no preachee and floggee too." It i 
bard for a gentleman accustomed to good 
hours, and who has to rise at six in the 
moniing to fight, if be is to sit up all night 
to study theobgy. We are t^ no means 
sure that this was the express meaning of 
the clause aibnitting to "benefit of clergy," 
but if so there can be no difGculty in under- 
■tandii^ why reading, and writing too, were 
indispensable for its attainment 

But as it would be belter to prevent a 
crime than to punish it, might not the legis- 
lature organize a spiritual " Preventive Ber- 
vice" to this especial end— and divide it into 
two classes I At present, as a noble msr. 
qUBse insists, a man revising to fight may be 
horsewhipped ; but he mi^t boldly refUse 
the first if provided with a proxy for the 
second, and allowed to name an obliging 
spirituBJ friend and pastor, to whom it could 
do no possible injury. The regular parish 
clergy liave eoough to do as it is, but num- 
bers would come forward spontaneously 
doubt, for we bear of thirty-six volunteers 
one esse. 

The ordinatitn of the second class should 
be for the purpose of preventing 
fore it is committed j instead of after, as 
U present. In tiiis case the charge of hon- 
ing etnmnitud a crime to-morrow, would be 
novel and eflbctive. Or If a msmber of the 
House of Peers has actually gone out, sinc<r 
he is beyond recall, why nol lecture the 
others iostesd T We grieve to find that the 
Commons are not likely to benefit in an} 
^lape. Inferior paities, and chailaagers. 


have no need of improveKMnW-tbey an, 
ipso facto, exemplary Christians. 80 also 
are all persons accepting challenges, tVom 
the shepherd David, who killed Goliah in a 
duet, up to the rank of viscount. Dukes 
alu are exempt by their station, and perhaps 
their eldest sons. We would recommend 
the taking out a license for genllemen going 
out to shoot their friends, the same as to 
other wild.brules and birds. 

So hopeful a system we should trust to 
see soon extended to other sins, which there 
should escape any more than 
this. The little peccadilloes to which flesh 
is heir, and which, like the former, are 
strongly recommended by the authority of 
DavtOy-— Why should they be uncultivated T 
Why should the " Preventive Service" hcai- 
late to denotince the contraband amiabilities 
of Peer, or Peeress, to their face? Why 
not lecture the wife for the husband, the 
husband for the wife meditating such evil 
doings 1 Why not approach and save the 
intended delinquents, in the very crisia of 
their perdition T When, too, a single lee- 
tnre would economize the virtues of both, 
and their own labour. 

Why indeed not publicly addr^ such 
parties even now 1 provided always the vic- 
tims be <tf a rank to give a chance of de- 
sired notoriety to the lecturer. Such selao- 
tions oould not be more invidious than ihe 
recent. Why not come to face, to point 
Thou art the Man, or the Woman 1 There 
is Nathan's example for this at least, though 
he came a little too late. But our monito- 
rial peripatetics are, we fear, as unlike to 
Nathan the Prophet as to ''Nathan the 

hxi. IX. — Lexiqite Boviaii, or Diclwjiiiairs 
de la Langve du Troubadourtf eemparta 
avec tea avtret Langutt de VEvrope La- 
line. Par M. Raynouard. Tome Pre. 
mier. Royal 8vo. Paris, 1838. 

Cm a former occasion we noticed the second 
volume (the first in order of publicatioQ) of 
^e most important work. The volume then 
reviewed contained the commencement of 
the Dictionary of the Old Proven^l Lan- 
guage, extending through the three first let- 
ters of the alphabet ; and, considering how 
little had been hitherto done towards such 
an undertaking, we fael ourselves justified in 
sB3nng that it is the most perfoet work of the 
kind ever produced. Nobody can lament 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

RaywUMrd-r-litirnliuv of JPweewffl. 

tfa» loia of Raynouard mgre tban ounelves ; 
but it is Bomfi coiwolalion to BnA that be 
Lad left tbe work of the greater part of his 
life io Buch a condition aa, l^ the care of M. 
Jual Paqoet, bis beir, we may expect ere 
loDg to see it complete on ourahelvea. 

Tbe preaeat volume, witb the eiceplioD 
(^ an iDtroductDry riiuwti uf the Grammar 
of tbe Neo-Latin tongues, consists of a large 
body of ancient Proven^ poetry, aod ooo- 
taiDS the most important documents of that 
language. An idea may be formed of the 
extent of this coUeetioa from the circum- 
stance that one of the poems which it con- 
tains, the Romance of Jaufre, printed closely 
in double columns, consista of upwards of 
nine thousand lines. 

The study of the Proven^ language is 
one of the utmost imparlance in Us bearing 
upon that of the other modern languages 
that have sprung out of the wreclc of the 
Latin, It forma, in a peculiar manner, the 
connecting link between the pure language 
of Rome and its several descendants. The 
antiquity of tbe/<m o( a language does not 
always depend on its position or ila date. 
At tbe present day, tbe Spanish is older in 
form — advances nearer to the original Latin 
— than tbe Italian, which we might have 
supposed to have t>ecn the elder by its poai- 
tion. In the thirteenth century, to judge by 
the documents which remain, the Anglo- 
Norman language was older in form than 
the French of the twelfth century, although 
doubtlessly the latter had preceded it in the 
date of its formation. And so, to judge by 
all the monuments which remain, the Pro- 
vencal, at the earliest period when its mon- 
uments are abundant, was much older in 
form than the Italian, or the Spanish, or the 
Anglo-Norman, or any other Neo-Latin 
tongue, and consequently in the stream of 
derivation it holds the first place afler the 
parent language. It is thus necessary, for 
the explanatioB of many anomalies and va- 
riatbos in the others, which would other- 
wise seem altogether without reason. 

The literature, howeve r, of Provence, does 
not occupy tbe same position with regard to 
that of the other people of the middle ages, 
as does its language. It neither forms a 
link between the Latin literature, and the 
French and An^o-Norman.; nor does it 
furnish us with tbe rude model of thai which 
was spread throughout Europe in the thir- 
teootb century- On the contrary, so early 
as tbe eleventh century, we find the lilera- 
lure of tbe south of Fraooe ezhibilinff that 
gay lightness of character, thai cliivairous 
form of gallantr;, shaded aff with the rich- 
est tints of gothic imagery, that high degree 
of refinement, which did not appear else- 


where till severaj ages lalar. It is a litera- 
ture which, at that Tenjole period, was pecu- 
liar in its kind. 

Whether we turn to tb« early literature of 
Franoe,of Germany, or of Gnglend, we find 
each going through regular gradationa. 
Fiistcome theeld romances, wboie ground- 
work were still older l^ends of the purely 
nationai traditions— I ben come, later in rela. 
live formation, tluugh often partly coniera- 
poiary in their form with the preceding, the 
long, heavy, religious poems, and the saints' 
legends ; these are fallowed, more or lesi 
immediately according to historical circum> 
stances, by the poetry of a stirring and, in 
some measure, refined society, when tin 
solemn ohtvalry of tbe heroic age, employed 
in feats of wild warfare, or dreaming in the 
mead-hall over tbe memory of deeds which 
had been perpetrated, and iis successor, the 
period when medieval superstition ruled 
paramount over all, have both given place to 
the din and intrigue of political strife. Then, 
the spirit which has been infused into party 
song and satire, perpetuates itself in amor- 
ous chants, and finds its way into the whole 
body of tbe national literature. Every thing 
is moving and animated. The poet is neither 
the dependent bard who touched the strings 
of his harp at the festival, nor the cloistered 
monk ; but the prince, the partizan, or the 

When we turn, however, to the literature of 
Proven^, we find a singular anomaly. We 
there fall at once upon the third of these pe- 
riods, -without any traces of the steps which 
in other countries led to it. In fact the na- 
tional literature there appears not to have 
gone through the same gradations. There 
are no signs of the ages of romances, and 
religious poems, and metrical chronicles, but 
from the first we meet with songs and satires 
in their most refined shape j they are indeed 
the only purely original productions in the 
language. Tbe ronumces and saints' legends 
are evidently sdvsntitious, and of a later 
date : and the only metrical chronicle, that 
of the war of the Albigenses, by William of 
Tudela, was appsrently produced in adoptioD 
of a faction which had long existed in tbe 
north. We may also observe that the roman- 
ces and saints' legends are generally not 
written in pure Provencal, but in a nortbern 
dialect, and are the alteration of works of a 
still more northern origin to suit that dialect, 
perhaps in many cases by the scribe who 
wrote the manuscript in which they occur. 
So we find the originals of the romances of 
Fierabras and Qerard of Rousillon, in tbe 
&ame words, allowing for various readings 
incidenl to manu&cripts,in tbe northern French 

of the thirteenth century. And there 



Mtuie Ainad and at Hmm. 


be little doubt, from their eubjeota, that the 
other three givea b^Rafnouard onca existed 
in the same farm. 

Id the present roluine Rajnoiiard has put>- 
lisbed, in addition to the eiteosive coUection 
given in his former Choi*, a large number of 
•oDgA, servientea, tensons, &c., by no les6 
than fifty difierent poets, many of them dis- 
tinguished warrtore and lofly barona, who 
flourished at difierent periods from the elev- 
enth century to the fiueeuth. If we inquire 
the reason of this strong characteristic of 
the literature of Prorenge.we may perhaps 
find it explained by the supposition, that the 
population of the south was in its composition 
more Roman — that the mixture of noribfima 
was not sufficient to engraft upon it those 
old traditions, which they carried into other 
parts, — and that it did not possess in the 
same way a line of mooarchs who prided 
themselTes upon their descent in a direct 
line from the old fabulous genealogies, which 
was the cause that no indigenal romantic 
cycles existed there ; but that (he literature 
of the country sprang up under the polilinal 
circumstances, which in other countries only 
produced a change in its character. Be 
this as it may, ihe Provencal songs belong 
to a class of medieval titerature, which is 

most rahiable on aocount of its intrinsic 
beauiy ; they are natural and origina), full 
of life and vigour, and distinguished by a 
playful variety of rhyme and measure. 
The saints* legends in every langoags ar« 
dull and uninteresting ; the French roman- 
ces, with a fen exceptions, are devoid of taste, 
trifling, and tiresome ; hut ihs songs, which 
have preserved to us the pure and ancient 
long** d'oc, are always elegant, and 

Besides the whole or abstracts (with long 
extracts) of five metrical romances, and the 
collection of songs just mentioned, the vol- 
ume, whose title stands at the head of our 
article, contains an abstract of William of 
Tudela's Metrical History of the War 
against the Albigenses (since publlshsd en- 
tire by H. Parinel], and lengthy eitrsou 
from various other poems, such aa the Bre- 
viary of Lone, a long philosophical and theolo. 
gical poem ; a moral poem, entitled The 
Boot of Seneca ; the Life of Su Bnimia ; 
a poem on the Four Cardinal Virtues ; the 
Lives of St. Trophimus, St Honoratus, and 
Si, Alexis ; and metrical versions of the 
Apocryphal books of Nicodemusand The 


Benqal.— A gentleman in the H. 1. C 
Service is employing his leisure in collect- 
ioff original Indian airs, which he intends 
publishing with notes on the manners of the 
ancient poet-musicians. This is a subject 
teeming with unexplored matter, and will, 
we hope, attract Ihe attention it deserves. 
From India we derive the custom of eriera 
or heralds, who precede warriors or prin- 
ces reciting their qualities. ''The great 
Qaras never appear in public without the 
utmost degree of pomp. Several bands of 
musicians precede tbeib, playing oii all the 
instruments of the country. Some of iheir 
officers take the lead, singing odea in their 
praise. The custom of having criers on 
such solemnities to make their proclamation 
of praise before all great personages when 

they appear in public, is common through- ■ 
out alt India. They repeat with a bud 
voice or nnf the renown of their masters, 
with a longaisplay of their illustrious birth, 
exalted rank, unbounded power and high 
virtues." — See DuboiM' Deteriplion af Pe«. 
pie of India, p. 66. 

Madrid. — The Spaniards laugh at the 
ideas of painters or travellers, when speak- 
ing or delineating Spaoish customs, iotro- 
ducing the Fandango and the Bolero ; these 
dances being scarcely known in Spain. 
They are as much forgotten as the Minuet 
and Qavotte are in England. The Domimo 
noir has been produced, hut it baa been ar- 
ranged aa a musical comedy by Ventura do 
la Vega, and bears the title " La Segania 
Dama diunde." Spohr h 

MmU Abroad amd at Soma. 


errors, viz. firBt, in gWio^ the Bqlero u a 
dance at the king's ball, bdiI lecondly, there 
has been no iDslance where the doors of the 
pslace have been opeaed for a masked ball. 
The " Riego Hgmn has become the national 
aalheni since the change in political afiairs. 

Pakis.— 'Paer has left an unfinished op. 
era, antilled "OlUtd and Sf^oauj" the 
two first acts are perfected. The new opera 
by HelsTy, eatulod " 7%c Sheriff," will 
shortly be produced in this capital. Mey- 
erbeer s " iiugonol^' has been performed 
upwards of one hundred nights. The cele. 
brated Tioloncellist, Batts, will shortly leave 
Paris on a musical tour through Geraiaoy. 

NoRjfARDT. — In order to preserve ibe 
memory of their songs, the Normans era- 
ployed characters called runOabach; these 
are the Runic letters, end to them were 
joined those which Etbicus had previously in- 
vented, and ibr which St. Jerome had fur- 
nished the signs. 

(See Ckattaubnattd'M Skttthti.) 

We have been iafoimed by an Amateur, 
that a MS. is in existence at Rouen contain* 
ing some of these ancient Norman Melo- 
dies, which have never yet been given to the 
Sublic in a printed form. There are other 
lusica I Curiosities of a similar kind worth 
the search. 

In the Harleisn MSS. No. 1717, is a 
song or canticle, set to music, upon the ad- 
vantage of the Crusade, by Beiu^ the Nor- 
man Minstrel. It escaped the notice of Dr. 
Burney and Wharton. 

PoUHn. — There are no naiive composers 
of celebrity in Poland, and but one new op- 
era was produced during the whole of last 
year. The representatioDS in the chief 
Theatre during the year were 191, and at 
the 'i'tair Rozmailotd 211; twenty-two new 
pieces were produced, principally tragedies, 
laskinski baa recently published six vol- 
umes of dramatic pieces in Palish ; the series 
will be completed in fifieen volumes, and 
contain seventy favourite dramas. 

GoTHA.— The new Theatre is now com- 
pleted, and will shortly be opened for oper- 
atic performances. 

Bbdmswick. — A Musical Festival was 
held in this town on the 16th August, the 
choir comprised upwards of 300 singers. 
The only novelty produced ivaaa cantate by 
Liebau of Quedlingburg, which is described 
as very beautiful and pleasing: 

Salzbobo. — Die Bull gave a brilliant 
concert on I Ith July, the proceeds of which 
were added to the fund for building a monu- 
ment to Moxari, 

Sdabia. — One of the most interesting 
spectacles look place at Biberach on the 
ISth July, the day appointed for the cele- 

bration of a great sinfpng feadval, to which 
more than 1000 smgera were invited. 
Thirty-four singing club* from Wirtetnberg 
and Bavaria contributed to this t^e, ana 
entered the little town aUeuded by a band of 
music, and in carriages decorated with flags 
and fiuwera. The houses in the town were 
similarly decorated, and the residences of 
ihe poet Wieland, and the composer Knecht, 
bore emblematical inscriptions. At one 
o'clock they assembled in the market place, 
and sang several national airs. The after- 
noon and evening perfonnances, which 
would have been equally brilliant, were 
entirely suspended by most violent storms of 
rain, thunder and lightning. 

PxBTH. — Ole Bull lately purchased a 
very beautiful Cremona violin for 4000 
francs (1661.)'; in the inside it bears the fol- 
lowing inscription: " Anton itis Stradiva- 
riua Cremonensis, faciebatanno 1637." 

BsKUN. — The Bayaderes have been per. 
forming at the priocipal Theatre with great 
eclat ; and have consequently been the ceu- 
eral theme of conversation. At Humboldt's 
BUggeatioo, they visited professor Bopp, the 
celebrated oriental echolar, but their cor* 
rupted dialect was so totally difierent from 
the Sanscrit known by the learned professor, 
ihat conversBtion wiib them in their own 
tongue uas impossible. 

Drbsdsn. — The great attraction of the 
summer has been Signora Uoghet ; her 
performances in Donizetti's " Anna Bolt' 
no," and Bellini's "Noma," have excited 
the greatest admiration and surprise. She 
has lefl Tor Trieste, where she is engaged 
for the autumn. 

Vienna. — A host of musical talent has 
visited this capital ; at one time there were 
young Mozart, F. Schubert, and Goethe's 
uncle Waltber von Gioethe, who has been 
engaged in the composition of an opera to 
be broughtout in this town. Taglioni ap- 
peared for ten nights. The " Datigiter of 
tie Danube," was produced for her, but 
Adams' music was so much complained of, 
as well as the whole arrangement of the 
ballet, (particularly the inappropriate dress- 
es) that it was withdrawn for the "Sylpk," 
which met with enthusiastic applause. 
Meyerbeer's '' Hvgomoti' has also been 
produced under the title of " Die G/ubelti. 
nen vor Pisa," and has been enthusiastically 

Italy. — During the present year, eight 
new operas have already been produced. 
Of these, five were composed at Naples, 
two at Venice, and one at Genoa, but only 
one from this number can be said to have 
fully succeeded, viz. " Ciarlalain" by Cam- 
merano, a new composer. Amo^ thenew 



Miuk Mrml'mdlat Hmm 


nrhna dOniiM, lb« MltMring hfcve bean fltn. 
inently'succensfa): StTeponl, Gabuui, Fres- 
lolini, and Botilrini. 

MBSsmj. — The Prince Btadcaforte hao 
erected an immense organ upon a hill in 
his park near ibis city, which is supplied 
with wind by a ftlodraili, and can be dis- 
tinctly heard (wo or three miles distant. 

OfifTOA. — The new opera by Pietro Combl, 
enOded " Ginevra di Movreaie," was 
brooght forward at the Oreat Theatre, but, 
with the exception of two or three pieces, 
found but little favour. 

MiLUt.— Miss Eembtehasbeen perform- 
ing in Donizetti's " Xaieii de Ltanmermoor" 
with great applanse, A Mademoiselle 
Agnes Schobest has made a successful 
debOt as Romeo. 

Naples. — The extreme and unnauni heat 
of the weather, during the spring and sum- 
mer, hns had a considerable effect upon the 
Theatres throughout Italy; they have been 
less risited. Rossini is still here, and en- 
gaged in writing a new opera for the Thea- 
tre 8. Carlo, under the title of " Johann 
Von MontftrroL' The libretto is by 
Ludwig Guatniccioli. Paganini is at Nis- 
mes ; he continues in a very weak state, his 
Toice 13 scarcely audible. 

Bologna — -The chief attractions of the 
summer have been the two sisters, Manzoir. 
chi, Almerinda and Eliza, and E)agnini, the 
new ten or. Me read an le, the composer, 
brought forward his opera " Elena di 
Fellre," which found so little favour in Ge- 
noa and Naples; here it was received with 
tumuhunus applause. Frezzolini, the prima 
donna, succeeded in enrapturing the audi, 
ence, and hta since performed with equal 
success in Donizetti's " Lucia di Lammer- 
moor." The celebrated tenor, Antonio 
Poggj, has been appointed singer to the 
Emperor of Austria. F. Sampieri the com- 
poser has been elected honorary member of 
the Philharmonic at Florence. 

Crete. — A late traveller mentions a 
"Sarcophagus at Arva in Crete. Sculptured 
on it one of the figures is a Bacchante play- 
ing on a Tgmfanum, an instrument common 
toiherttcBof both Dionyaius and Rhea, and 
eaiii by Euripides to have been on invention 
of theCorybanies.* It was made of an an- 
imul's skin stretched on a hoop like the 
cymbal ; it was unknown to Homer's age, 
when the usage even of that earlier invention 
the flute, was cunGned to the Phrygiary, to 
whom its discovery is usually assigned, and 
who are said first to have employed it in the 
celebration of their mystic rites." — Po*Weji'» 
TravtU, vol. ii. p. a. 

* PitsMi of Cybell, or Rbsa, the wife of Satam . 

Thla t* R n»cb mm^ Vkt\y origin of the 
drnm than that giraa by raaei of £e Music- 
a) Historians. 

Crelait Dttnce.~—'TiiK dano* and its ac< 
compauving song were corrtaieQee<(> Tfw 
cyclic cboms eihibitvd, consisted of six wo- 
men and as many men, each nf whom held 
the hand of bisneighbour. The coryphaeus 
favoured us by singing various poetical ef. 
fastons as they danced. 

It requires no great imaginative power to 
regard these dances of Cretan youths and 
maidens, aa an image which atill preserves 
some of the chief features of the Onossian 
chorus of 3000 years ago. As songs are 
now sung by the peannb on these occasions, 
so, in ancient times, there was a hyporclum 
or ballad, with which the Cretans more than 
all other Greeks delighted to accompany 
their motions in the dnnce. {See a speci- 
men of the songs.) Pathless Travel! in 
Crete, vol. i. p. 246, 

Whileon ine subject of Ancient Musical 
Instruments, we may mention that Dr. 
Buroey, in his notice of Hebrew music, haz- 
ards the assertion that "we have no authen- 
tic account of any nation, except the Egyp- 
tians, where music had been cultivated so 
early as the days of David and Solomon ; 
the Greeks at that time having hardly in- 
vented their rudest instruments." — Vol. i. 
p. 255: 

But ill a notice of Arabian music, (For- 
eign Quarterly Review, No. S9, p; 60,} 
Thirty Musical Irulrvmenia are enumerated 
as invented by them. A late traveller al- 
leges that the Bagpipe is unquestionably of 
Arabic origin. There are several treatises 
extant upon music by Arabic writers,* much 
older than the days of Solomon, proving in. 
contestibly that the art, and even the science, 
was well understood by this extraordinary 

LoNDOi», — The period during which the 
Opera, Covent Garden, and Drury Line 
'i'hentres remain closed, is always an inter- 
val devoid of interest. For, aa regards this 
metropolis, if we except the talent which 
Webster has drawn around him at the Hay- 
market, we might soy the theotrical aa well 
as musical talent were all out of town ; but 
cheering prt»pect8 are before us. 

Covent Grarden has been entirely re-em- 
bellished, and the boxes hung with superb 
draperies. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Mathews, 
iho lessees, have enmged a very talented 
company, including Farren, Keeley, and 

Ths work hj Al Farabi, (called tbe Aiabjin 

Orpheiu) treating on the prindples of the Art or 

Elevunit of Muiie, nnd the Kitab al Aguni, w 

great Collection of Songi, by JM/onvl, a. D.lSaS, 

in the Ubruy of the E '-' 



JHmjc Ahmi m4 «1 Bme, 


amy eieellent comedians. Tbe theatr* 
opened on the 30th, with Sliakap^are's 
comedy of" Loee't Labour LoaU'^ A long 
list of novelties are in active preparation, 
includiog n drama hy Sheridan Kaowlea. 

Drury Lane haa not been behind its rival, 
either in re-decoration or engagement of 
talent. Mr. W. J, Hammond haa abown 
sraal judgment io aecuring the services of 
Macready and Ellen Faucit, as well aa in 
engaging Jamea Wallack, Tho theatre will 
be opened with a aeiv piece of Douglas Jer- 
rold'a on the ISth (October) inatant- 

The Haymarkel continues to df«w crowd' 
ed houses with the " Lady o/" Ja/om" and 
we hear a new play, by Sir Edward Lytlon 
Bulwer, is in course of preparation. 

The Si. James's Theatre haa been taken 
by Balfe, in conjunction with Mr. Bunn, for 
the production of musical entertainments ; 
Bod we have no doubt they will succeed. 

The Adelphi opened its doors for the win- 
ter season on the SOlh, with several attrac- 
tive pieces. 

The Promenade Concerts 4 la Musard 
will be shortly resumed at the English Opera 
House, which haa again closed after a very 
•hort and unsuccessful career. These cob- 
certs will possess all the principal musical 
talent which so distinguished them last year, 
when Willy Harper, Negri, Richardson, and 
Baumann, drew such crowded houses. We 
are confident they will be rewarded with 
similar success. 

The Sacred Harmonic Society at Exeter 
Hall will recommence their performances 
on the 4th instant with "J«dat Maceaheua." 
We can cordially recommend this Society 
as one of the best conducted and well regu- 
lated in London ; the low price of the ad- 
' mission tickets will always ensure a fult at- 

Swiets of Female VocaluU. — Her Ha. 
jeaty Queen Victoria has, in the moat gra- 
cious manner, sent a donation of twenty 
pounds, in aid of the gradually increasing 
fuud of this praise-worthy association, which, 
as it bcludes nearly all the priocipal female 
Vocalists who have so frequently administer, 
ed to the gratification of the musical public, 
deserves, and we trust will receive, abundant 
assistance from the nobility and wealthy 

The closing of the concert seaaon enables 
ns to bestow a few words upon the present 
state of music in England, interesting alike 
to the singer, composer, and amateur. In 
the first place, then, what is the patronage to 
be enected t^ tbe cultivated English musi- 
cian, be he siocer, composer, or performer T 
Royalty afford lume. The nobili^ and 
gentry (with t^oxcefttion oi* Ear! Gro«ve- 

VCL I3CIT. 1 . 

Dor and one or twQ other funilioa ofdiatiiiB- 
tion^ none. The mania is for every thing 
foreign. Although we have tbe worka m 
Purc^l, Ame, Shield, Percy, Dibdin, Bishop, 
Callcott, Barnett, &c- die., long the boost of 
musicians, as men wbo odoraed by their 
worlcs the country of their hinih—vihtre, this 
season, have any of (hem been heard 1— 
Echo answers, H'Aere? 

Although we have at this moment as much 
lalent in England as there is existii^ on the 
continent, with this only difierence — with 
(hem all the diamonds are polislied and ha- 
comini'ly set, eagerly sought oiter, and ap- 
preciated ; with us, " ttiai^ a ^M ofpitrut 
ray teratK " finds no lapidary to polish its 
roughness, make the most of its brilliaiKqr, 
or introduce it as ^jeiotie ofwerlka to thoM 
who could estimate its value. While this is 
the case, and foreigners alone are Mtronixed 
by the higher classes, real English muatc 
must sink (but most undeservedly) in public 

" As music, which, I apprehend, had the 
precedence of poetry as a human bTentioai 
was regulated by certain principles of arti 
when words came to be adapted, these lattw 
would of course be l&ewise regulated fay 
similar principles. Tbe measured cadeocei^ 
therefore, of musical expression may be pifr 
sumed to have first su^ested the idea c^ 
metrical harmony, and to hare evolved tbe 
elements out of which every order of serw 
subee<]ueotly derived its esistanca. But Po- 
etry, Bs it improved and ripened towards 
maturity, rose above tbe trammels in which 
Music had originally shackled it; and be* 
coining disassociated from its parent art; 
sprang up and ramified into an ahnost end- 
less variety of production, leaving all other 
mental processes at an hnmeossroble di^ 
tance behind it, and becoming a nntversal 
agent of the purest mental enjoyment" 

This extract is from a srork lately pab- 
iisbed, entitled. " TU Poelti/ ^ Ae Penta- 
ttueh, bf lAs Bev. Hobart Caimter, B. D„" 
which treats of the beatity aod-svblimity of 
the poetry of the five boMs «r Moses. It 
well deserves a place in the library of all 
who have yet to learn where to search for 
the highest class of poetical inspiration. The 
observatioiis upon primeval music, inter- 
spersed among tbe first two or three ehap> 
ters, evince tbe reverend ■tdbor'B appreda- 
tion of, and power over tbe sabject, and will 
very greatly interest the educated muriciaii, 
who observes his art, in the only way it 
ought ever to be viewed — with a poetical eye. 

Rminittxiua ofHandtl; 7%s Ihke ^ 
Oumdot, Pmell. and ike HarmMtiau BUOt- 
(mOA. Bf Riehari Ctark^ fol. Lomdm. 
leSA — " W.Vnr, Michael Angela, and Han. 

I ctizedbyGoOgIC 


del betoDg to Ibe Mine order of minds ; tbe 
•ame imoginBtiTe powen, the seme sennilHl- 
ity, are oniy operating with different niate- 
Tials." — This brief tribute to ihe sigontic 
composer by a well-known writer, {D'laraeli,) 
■ums up in few words the CBusee that occa- 
gioDed such eztraordioary effects in the mu- 
Irical productiotiB ot this child of genius. 
Every particular, however apparently tririal. 
In the life of Handel, must tontiDue to in- 
terest musicians, and we therefore have to 
ibank Mr. Clark fUr his acceptable cootri- 
bntion ; which, with his usual enthusiasm in 
nch matters, he has printed at his own ex- 
pense) for priTate circulation among his 
iWends. Respeciina the origin of the air in 
Handel's lessons, known l^ the name of 
** TV Hanumieu4 BhdcMnith," when tbe 
compowr was at Cannons, (the seat of the 
Doke of Cbondos,) near Bdgeware, he was 
MM day overtaken by a heavy shower of 
nin, from which he took shelter in a black- 
smith's shop by the road aide.* The indus- 
trious occupant was beating iron on tbe an- 
vil, and singing at bis work. The varying 
Munds of the hammer falling on tbe metal, 
mingling wkh the rude tones of the man's 
Toice, suggested to Handel the feeling and 
flbaracter of-thia melody, a simple speaking 


Tbvre ia a dsrer litbt^rrapbic eocraTing 
of Whitcburch, (Cannons,) where Handel 
presided at tbe organ, and a eopy of the com- 
poser's will. While on this subject, we may 
nmark that there is no well-written and po- 
pukr liA of tbe immonal compoeer to be had. 
Tbe flKswir* of Smitb^ his amanaensis, a*o. 
1T60, are- latbei scarce ; but from these, 
Hawkins, Bum^, Archdeacon Coze, Life 
of Handel, and ooe or two other souroea, 
easily attainably a diaap and condensed 
netyoir nigbt be made, including the o|Hoi- 
Oii»of vamws « ritara npoa bis works, that 
iponld ionn a phasing volane for tbe yotmg- 

Miuie Abna^amd ti Home. 

• llijsahiid hssbMa. tx mnoB ytmn piat, the 
abattoir e( a hitclcri "TowbatbwauN^ w* 


er students. 1^ fblkiwing anecdote may, 
perhaps, not be so generally known. 

While Mai^lebone Garden* were flourish- 
ing, about ihe year 1738, the enchanting 
music of Handel, and probably of Arne, was 
often heard from the orchestra there. One 
evening, as my grandfather and Handel 
were walking together, a new piece was 
itruck up by the band. " Gome, Mr. Von- 
taine," said Handel, " let us zit down and 
listen to this biece ; I want to know your 
opinion of iL" Down they sat j and after 
some time the old jiaraon, turning to his com- 
panion, said, " It is not worth listening Kb- 
it's very poor stuff." "You are righd, Mr. 
Vontaine, it is very boor stuff — I thoughd zo 
myzelf when I vinished it." The old gentle- 
man being taken by surprise, was beginning 
to apologise j but Handel assured him there 
was no necessity : that the music wna really 
bad, having been eompoted haibly, and his 
lime for the production limited ; and that the 
opinion was as correct as it was honest. — 
See LeUer from Iforruon Scairherd, p. 502. 
Hone's Year Book. 

Belthaxua't Fetul, an oratorio, by J. H. 
Griesbach. — This subject bss been set by 
Bandel, but, as a whole, it was never so suc- 
cessful as some of bis other works. Mr. 
Griesbach is a sound and tried musician, and 
has shown his zeal in the good cause, by 
ventariog to print, at snch a lime as this, a 
musical work of the highest class. The story 
is treated in a dramatic and elaborate man- 
ner by Mr. W. Ball, (the author of the 
words,) Dod in some pieces, such as the tenor 
Boog, "Baite the SongqfFetlal Pteanro," 
and the qnarteK, " FcUtjkl Bour," he has 
displayed a capacity of adaptiog words lo 
mnsic, not usual in the general «iyle of poet- 
ical adaptations. There are forty.five pieces 
in ibis oratorio ; in performance some of the 
recitatioM would require curtailing. Tbe 
solos and chorusaes are very effective and 
well wrought, and tbe finale is splendid. Al- 
together, we have no hesitation in saying, 
that diis oratorio, when well performed, 
would place Mr. Griesbach's name among 
the int of oar native composers. 

Digitized byGoOgle 


P*u«.— The mixt GomprebendTe Usury 
of Purtugbl la the French language boa re- 
«eatlv beeo published. Itia eatitled "Esaai 
eur 1 HlBtoire du Porluf al depui* la FondK- 
tioa de la Uonarchie JuMu'fc la Hortde J). 
pjidrt; [V.; 1080 to 1834." Tha ambora are 
U. Chaurneil de Stella and M. Bauteul. The 
work ia embetlUibed with portraiU or Don 
Pedro and Donoa Uaria ibo Second. A new 
magazine for tho ladiea baa ateo appeared, 
•ntitlud " Le« Toiletiea." A new work on 
the history of Poland has been published by 
Ihe LibrairJB Polonaise ; » Skarbiec Hislorii 
Potakiej, pnex Earola Sieokiewicza." The 
first part coniaioa a teview of ConUtreni'a 
Travels through Polnod, 1474: Meoioinaf 
the Abbe Kitowicz, 1754 to 1785^ aod the 
diplomatic relaiioos between France and 
Poland during the thirty yean' war: Memoirs 
of Count Pozzo di Borgo, 1814 ; and renwrka 
respecting the Polish historian, Adam Na- 

Charles Forsler who has wTit:en much 
resjifictintt Poland, has iranslaled Falkea- 
Blein's well-known work upon Koaciuszko, 
under the title " Kosciuszko dans sa Tie ^■ 
litique et intime;" it is accompanied with 
notes, and a portrait of Kosciuszko- 

J)r. larrey has communicated to the Aca- 
demy of Sciences at Paris a successful mode, 
adopted by the Egyptians, of prevenline any 
disfigurement from scars by the smalT-pox. 
The pttlieni, troro the first outbreak of the 
fever until the height has paased, baa tha face 
covered morning and evening with gold leaf, 
which is applied with a little gum water, and 
remtins perfectly fast and smooth, even dur- 
ing the period the pock ia coDfluirtnd and 
Ihe face swollen ; except ia one or two small 
places, where the pilfow may accidentally 
nib the gold off: and It has also the addi- 
tional quality of allaying the irritation which 
usually accompanies tbw distressing nwlady. 


HAji»na.— W« hear Oat tba Fifth VdU 
uroe of PertE'a Monumrata Oerinania# 
Hislorica will sluMtly leave tha pies» Tba 
Fourth Volume was published in the autiuan 
of 1837. .The Third Volume of Rupenl'a 
Tacitus Is at last announced as ready, and 
will complete this ezoellent work- Tbe First 
Volume of a new edition of Daring's Horace 
has been published by tbe brothers Hahn, 
of this. city. It is re-edited by Gustavus B«- 
gel-^ naiae new in classical liierelure t ha 
■s^ we think, a professor at GitUiogen. Tba 
same publishers have just brousnt out tha 
Third Volume of Schubert and Walz. 

Bbbum^-M. Oaipmaon (of Berlin) baa in- 
Tented a maehine for copying paintings in 
oil with perfect exaotaess. Tbe Invention 
is stated to be tfao result of ten years' incea- 
aant study : during wbieb time iba iogenloua 
artist suffered the severest privatioM, and 
Bupporled himself by making sealine-wax al 
night, the day beiuK wlioUy devoted to pro- 
secutlog tbe above discorery. M. Leipmann 
' said u» have been a reaulaf attendant of 

e museum at Berlin, and to have adet^ 
a portrait by Rembrandt as the olyect of hia 
experiment. Fixing single featureeand parts 
of this picture in his memory, by hours o^ 
daily aud incessaot observation, he contrived 
to reproduce them at home, witli perfect 
fidelity, and by tbe aid of a machine— in 
what manner is not known. Tbe discoveryi 
however, Is so complete, that he lately pro> 
duced, in presence of tbe directors of Iht^ 
Museum, 110 copies of the painting In quea- 
Uon. Tbesecopies are said lobeperfeol,and 
to retain tbe most delicateabadea of tbe on- 
inal picture, confesaedly one of tha nwat 
Jifficult in existence to imitate in tbe usual 
way. The price of the copies Is but a louia 
d'or each. 

We trust that this admirable diaeovery: 
will not meet tlw fata of a,|>arbaps soma- 



tOteeUoMoug Ltttrary Holieu, 

wbBf almilar terantion, by * Plemiita artbb 
about fifty years atnoo, and whose Imtta- 
t)ona.tbeB exhibited attne Adelphi,ln Lon- 
don, were sncti perfeei focaiiDlfes ai tode- 
tj the most ikilful cooBOisMurs to dlitin- 
gnish from the original paiDtiogs. It was 
considered, the time, that the 
merit of the imitations destroyed Uie ralue 
of the orisinals themselves. The inven- 
tloo was £scoaraeed, and the artist, quit- 
ting the country, died abroad in great dis- 

s.— Oreat premrations are 

making tor the aetebration or the third cen- 
tenary of the Refbmtation for*tbe Ist of 

Dkbsdsm.— The celebration of the third 
csDtenary of tlie Protestant Reformation, 
which commenced In Dresden on &ih July, 
16S9, was tield on a scale of splendour 
neTerli^re wllnesaed ia this town. The 
nomins of the 5lh July was ushered with 
the ringing of l>el1s and firing of cannon. 
A procesalon walked from tbe town hall to 
the Kreutz Church, which was decorated 
with flowers and orange trees, and were 
ftvoured with a sermon appropriate to the 
occasion. On the following day they at- 
tended St Neuestidler Church, when Haydn's 
Creation was given with all the talent and 
celebrated singers of this and the neigh- 
bouring towns, including Hdlle. Bchroa- 
der DeTrient. In the erening the city was 
brilltanlly iiluminated. and Innnraerable 
bWDBparencies and Inscriptions, relating to 
Lather's worth and honour, were to be seen 
in every part of thecily. But the most im> 
posing spectacle was the Frauen Church, 
irhlcb was Illuminated with large lantborns 
to the highest point of the tower. The Ro- 
man Catholics took a friendly part at this 
celebration, and expressed the utmost 
goodwill i even the most bigoted refrained 
on this happy occasion from any expres- 
sion of Ullberulity. 

Prince John, Duke of Saxony, has hist 
published, under the assumed nameof Plii- 
lalMbes. the first pan of an improved and 
enlarged quarto edition of ''Dante, Aligbi- 
eri's gtfttlicbe comfidie," in metre, with cri- 
tical and historical notes. The title ptate 
Is by Horitz Relzsch. It has also a map 
and two plans of Hell. 

BoNs. — Professor Redepenig has left 
Ibis town for Odttingen, to supply the place 
OfEwald, Weber.and Huperti, as professor 
and chaplain to the Uaiversilv. The last 
new oriental work published here ia Pari- 
slni'a Grammatical Aphorisms, with the 
Banskrit notes. It is, bowever, still very 
difficult to read, and the appearance of Or. 
BOhllingk's Commentary, which will form 
the Second Volume, will be hailed with 

fioasll^e by tbe Sanskrit student. Delius 
writing a book on the Sanskrit Radices; 
and Westrogard, who is st present in Paris, 
has a work on tbe Pracrit Radices. 

SrcrraAKT. Gotta has republished Eat- 
sebue's "Oeschichte far meine S6hne," 
wMoli will la sMue way stipply the great 

want of proper reading books for the male 
youth of a mere advanced age. Ttie edi- 
tion of Voss'b Odyssea, lately published al 
Leipsic, has induced tbe same publisher to 
bringout a cheap pocket edition of tbe Ilisd 
and Odyssey; but this Isasecotad trans- 
lation of Tosi'b, and not considered to t>e 
so good as the first. 

Ludwig Bchoner, tin editor of the Kunst- 
Blattf has published the Second Tojume of 
his translation of Tasarl'a Lives of tbe 
Painters, Sculptors and Architects, from 
Clroabne to^the year 1567. It is embel- 
lished with many plates, and has a great 
quantity of original matter not found In 
the Italian. 

The last number of the Gierman Unarter- 
ly Journal contains several interesting arti- 
cles. One on the Machinery in modem 
Manufactories; a paper on National Edu- 
cation, by Baian, the present editor of tlia 
Jabrbucher iUr Politeh ; another on the 
Connection of tbe Manners and Customs 
of the East with their Religion ; also a k>ng 
article on the popular Belief in Ghosts, &c. 
in Germany. 

The aonual meeting of the Association 
of German Naturalist's and Physicians was 
held this year at Pyrmoni, in September. 
The following were the sections :— 1, Hiys- 
ioand Astronomy ; 3, Chemistry and Phar- 
macy; 8, Ulneralogy and Geology; *, Bo- 
tany; 5, Zoology, with Analomyand Phy- 
slofogy; 6, Medicine and Surgery.— Ex- 
cursions were made to the celebrated min- 
eral springs in the neighbourhood. Fo- 
reigners are admitted members, and the 
dinner, which was provided in the great 
hall, was contracted at half a dollar for each 
member dnily. 

The Apothecaries' Association for Xorih- 
ern Germany will alao hold their annua) 
meeting at Pyrmoni very shortly. 

One of the peculiarities of the middle 

ages was the marrying their princesses at 
a very early age. It was customary to give 
(hem tn marriage on their attaining the 

^_ of twelve; for we find Otto, the second 
duke of Meran, married Blanca, acounteM 
of Champagne, in 1S35, at tbe age of twelve; 
lie had just completed his fourteenth year. 
Hedwlg, daughter of the Duke of Maran, 
was married, In her twelfth year, to Henry, 
Dukeof Bre8ku,in 1186. God ila, countess 
of Saxony, had a son, Werinhar, when she 
was but thirteen years of age. 

Railroadt. — "The line from Leipzig to 
Dresden is now completed, and has been 
opened the whole distance. The line b». 
iween Merenceand Wiesbaden is proceed- 
ing rapidly; more than two-thirds of itie 
distance is finished. The same may be 
remarked respecting the line between 
Frankfort and Hattersheim, but from Hat- 
tersbHm to Cassel they are proceeding but 
slovly. The line from Frankfort is now 
opened as fur as Hochst ; but the continua- 
tion from tfaence to Castel will not tw cnm- 
S lie ted before the next spring. Therallroad 
irom Berlin to Potsdam has also l>een ro- 

Digitized byGoOgle 

MiKiUaneotu LUenrf MaHeMM. 


oenllT ctnnpleted. and has creatsd dnusnal 
bnstiB in the latter town : the journey now 
occupiea tbree*qaartersof an hour, whereas 
b; the old road system it required nearly 

a'day to pais from Berlin to the royal 
palace and eardene at Potsdam. The ^- 
liner now takes hU coffee in Potsdam, after 

completing hie business in the capital, and 
Is enabled to return there again before 

The number of PaBseneers by the great 
Belginm railroad during the month of Au- 
gust, amounted to 200,435, and the receipts 
were durmg the same period 521,267 francs, 
or 20,8501. 


There are several newspapers published 
at Athens, but their only peculiarity is the 
violent expression of their political feel< 
logs. The Alhaie has tlie largest circula- 
tion, amounting to 700 copies, to subscrib- 
na. It is the organ of the constitutional- 
ists or English party. The £on is in the 
n of Russia, and clrciriates SCO copies; 
1 unftyourable (o the existine goyem- 
nent The TaeAydrom is the French or- 

gkn,and also that of tbe government The 
okrates is constitutionBli and has 600 sub- 
scribers. There is also a medical sazette 
published at Athens, called the Asktepios, 
and a periodical similar to the Btvue Uni- 
vtTMelU Pittoraqae- 

lo Athens there are but four booksellers, 
three of whom are Qermsn. 


RoMB.— The King of Bavaria has pur- 
chased several Egyptian bronze vases and 
gold ornaments, from the celebrated col- 
lection of Ferlina. 

The high altar of thechurch oiSt. Maria 
delta poet has been burnt down; but ttae 
celebrated al fresco painting by Raphael 
was fortunately preserved. 

Tuskulanum, Bsmalt town in Lombardy, 
possesses several paper mills. In one of 
Ihem a fine paper in manufactured, upon 
which the writing, with the common black 
Ink, turns a bright red within twenty-four 
hours after use, and oanoot be erased. The 
paper Is of a very strong and durable 

WABBAw.—lJteratifre continues to be on 
the decline ; a few agricultural works, and 
two or three annuals, are the only writings 
which now appear. The four daily Jour- 
nals, the ' Gazela Warszawska,' the ■ Oaseta 
coilzienaa,' the ' Korrespondent,' and the 
'Oazeta poranna' (raorniog newspaper), 
are principally used as a vehiclQ for adver. 
tisements; and as politica are very cau- 
tiously Inirodnced, they generally fill up 
whal is left, after the daily news and m- 

ficlal notices^wltb' talea vA hHw»>'>~«. 
The 'Gazeta Warsxawaka' is accompanied 
by a leaf called ' Tecza,' (the Rainbow),- in 
which whole novels appear translated from 
the French and Qernian. 

In addition to these there are ten small 
journals, most of which have their particu- 
lar circle ; ihas the ' Sylwan' is anlcultU' 
ral, the ' Pamietnik lowaraystwa lekarskie- 

¥},' is medical, the 'Pielgrzvm' Is musical, 
be ' Muzeum domowe' and the ' Magaiyn 
PowRzechnv* treat on common subjectsi 
and are embelliBbed with wood cqta, treat- 
ing occasionally of the latest literary pro-, 

The 'Kosmorama Europy' contains a 

' PodroK malownicza,' illustrated travels, - 

this year on New Columbia, 'Nowy Ko- 

lumb.' with engravingB by EngllBh artists, 

lumb.' with engravingB t 
and Itthographie views. 

There is also a 'Magazyn mod,' Maga- 
zine of I^hion, and a theatrical newapa- 
per, entitled 'Swlat dramatycmy,' with ' 
porti^tts of the principal actors at the War- 
saw theatres, by Oleezczynski. 

The budubIs published This year are tho 
' Pier wf OB nek' and the ' Niezapotnlnajkii' 
(the Forget-me-not), published by K. Kor- 

The 'Encyclopedia powszechna' pro- 
ceeds but slowly ; letter A only is completed. " 

The only works of great interest of the 
present day are the 'Numiztnatyka Kra- 
jowa' (National Numismatics), by E. Wla- 
dyslav Btezynski Bandtkie, now in the 
presB ; it will consist of two volumes, and 
contains drawings of 1000 Polish coins. 
The other is entitled ' Pamietnik) o dziojscbt 
pismiennictwie i prawodawstwie slowran 
az do wleku XIV.,' by Professor Macle- 
Jowski, and will be divided into Two Parts. 

Within the last few months Polish litera- 
ture has lost three of its brightest oma- 
m«)U: Anselm Szwejkowski, president of 
the Warsaw University; Joseph Mrozin- 
ski, author of a celebrated Pcdisii grammar ; 
and Professor Ludwig Oslnskl, celebrated 
for his translations of Corneille's Trage- 
dies, and hb Lyrical Poems. 

. _ ) country In Europe In which 
literature has declined so rapidly within tlw 
last fhw years as In Poringal ; even Poland, 
fettered with every reatrainti presents n; 
occasionally with works of great literary 
value. The freedom of the press In Porto- 
gal, and with It the unbridled expression of 
politics, have as yet had an effect contrary 
to all expectation i thus literature, instead 
of being encouraged, has tufibred incalcu- 
lable injury. For although there are more 
thnn twenty Portuguese newspapers and 
daily Journals, we find them entirely en- 
grossed with political and extraneous mat- 
It is not to be denied that the early Portu. 
Siese were more studious and learned than 
osaof the present day, and yet imtll with? 

and yet imtll with? 


JtJKtltaagn* tiltr»f]i Nuieei. 

la tb* M tiawtf jnn it vftt axosedingly 
diffioull h> iwbliah any work however use- 
ful. Tbe artttor was obUged (o obtaio the 
parmia&km of tbe Saato Officio, whore (he 
manuscript underwent tbe moet ligid criii- 
eism. It was then attested tbat Uie work 
oontsined nothing contrary to the laws of 
religion ; and ere these forros were com- 
pleted, T^ars would frequeaily ieterveoe ; 
to Iheae erila followed the ilow progress of 

It is erideut that Ponngal poaseasea . 
Mas. of an earlier period than the 9th cen- 
tury, although tbe author of the Catalogue 
oi Alcobaos (in the 5lh vol. of the Memoirs 
of the Aoademy of Usbon) sUtes tbe M8S. 
numbered 17 to be the work of the 6th cen- 
toiy ; in this he was in error. 

In tbe library of the convent of Necessi- 
dadea are two Bibles of the lOtb century. 
Among lbs archives of Torre de Tomboare 
several MS. writings of tbe 12th century of 
■ great value; Alcobaos possess 72 MS. 
writioga of ine same period, amoag others 
are the Geographical Dictionary of Monk 
Bartholomeo, tbe Latin Diciionary of Al- 
nfaoDS de Lourifal, and tbe Confessionea 
S. Augoatinl, written by Father Theolonio 
de Condeixa, all of which are but little 

In tbe above-mentioned archivea, a HS. 
of the 14th century contains drawinga of 
all the citiea and fortificatloiu in the coun- 
try i there are also of the aame period do- 
cuments of great historical and geographi- 
oal interest. 

The Dante of the public library nf Usboa 
la very beauUful. The Talmud MSS. are 
covered with gold, precious stonea, and 
miniatures. The MS. of Aristotle'a Ethio^ 
translated into Spanish by Charles Prince 
of Navarre, apd llie cosily Bible presented 
by King Emanuel to the moaks of St. Ca- 
)eian, are also preserved at the public libra- 
ry of Lisbon, and are but little known. 

The following comprise the most choice 
and valuable works of the early Portuguese 
writers : 

HisToBT.] — Fernao Lope, tbe father of 
Portuguese history^ Froissart wrote tbe 
Chronicles ol King Pedro I., Fernando, and 
John f. The chronicles of tbe two Rrst are 
contained in tbo ineditos ol the Academy. 
Azurara. Tomada de Ceuta, (Tbe Con. 
quest of Ceuta-) Kuy de Pioa, Chronicles 
of the Kings, from D. Sancho I. until D. 
Diniz (Dionys the Just): also the Chronicles 
of John II. which appeared in the Ineditos 
of tbe Academy. Golvao, Chronicles of 
EingAffonso Henrique. Damiao de Goes, 
Chroniclea (^ Prince Don Joao, and King D. 
Manoel tbe Great Andrada. Chronicles 
of John UL Osorius, De rebus gestis 
Emanuelis. Leao, Chronicas dos Reis de 
Portugal, part 1, (Liabon, IBOO) ; part 2, 
published by D. Rodrigo de Cunha. Brito, 
Hooarcbia Lusilana, parte I &, 2; parts 3 
& 4 by F. Antonio Brandao^— (these two 
parta are coniidwed to be the beat that has 
DMn wulten upon Portuguese biKory) ; ports 

5 &; 6 by F. FrnaciaM Brandao ( urt 7 by 
F. Hafael da Jesus ; part 8 by Haooel doe 
Santoa. Mene?^^ Portigal restaurado. 

Garcia de Resende, Cronica de D. Joao U. 
D. Francisco Manoel, Epanapboras. Bar- 
roa, Decadas da Hiatoria da India, continu- 
ed by Diego de Couto ; Barros wrote a 
Portuguese grammar and other works. 
Castanheda, Historia da India. P. Ber- 
nardo de Brilo, Monarchia Luaitaaa, also 
Etoglos dos Reis. F. Luii de Sousa, Hia- 
tmia do S. Domingos ; Vida le D. Fr. Bar. 
tolomeo dos Hartyrea ; Vida do bcato Sure; 
(Ssusa ia conaidered by all critics to be tbe 
best Portuguese prose writer). Feire da 
Andraho, Vida do D. Joao de Castro. Af- 
fonao de Albuqueroue, Commenlariofc 
Pinto Pereira, HistonadaIndia,durinE the 
government of D. Luiz de Ataide. Men- 
doBea, Jornada de Atrica. Lucent^ Vida 
da 8. Francisco Javier. 

RsLioious WaiTDtus.]— Paiva d'Aodrada, 
and Ant Vielra, Sarmoea. ^eita, Q.uad- 

Tsaveia]— Cartas doa Mlssoea, (being a 
continuous line of information auring The 

Ethiopia. Bermudez, ItdB9ao da Ethiopia. 
Ueodes Pinto, Perigrina^oea. Gouves, 
Jornada do Arubispode Goa, aadHelsfsoda 
Persia. Godinho, Relacao da novocaniio- 
ho, toe. Querreiro. Rela^oes das MisNoe% 
a continuation of the Cartas das Miasoes. 

PoKTav.]— Tbe Cancioneiro, in the Col- 
Wjo doa Nobrcs, contains poems of the 
12th and l3th centuries ; the Caticioneiro 
de Rezende (Lisbon, 1616,) contains the 
poetry of the Utta and 15th centuries. 
Diego BernardeZ( bis workss ctdtected under 
the title, O Lyma ; Fernao Alvarea do Orl- 
ente, Lusitana traosformada, pastoral songs. 
Rodritjuez Lobo, O Pastor peregrino ; A 
Primavera ; O Desenganado ; he has also 
written elegies, odes, and sonnets. Da 
Castroi Ulissea, an epic poem. Francisco 
de Si V Meneaez, Malacca coaquistada ; 
ibis ana tbe Dliasea are esteemed by the 
Portugueae as the best Jerooymo Corter- 
eal, fuufragio de Sepulveda, and Cerco dl 
Dill. Brandao, Eleglods. 

Camoena, Antonio Dinix da Cruz, Bocage. 
DIaa Gomes, and Francisco Manoel, were 
the most dlatiaguisbed poet* prior to the 
lOth century. 

Tbi: DatMA.]~Gil Vicente, the creator of 
the Portuguese stage, 1480 to 16S7, wrote 
many pieces, the first in 1502, Jorge Fer- 
reira do Vascoocellus wrote three plajs, 
Uliasipo, Aulegrafia, and Enfronino. An. 
lonio Ferreira, two comedies, Cioso and 
Bristo, and the tragedy of Ignez de Caslro. 
Si de Miranda, the two comedies Villal- 
pandioe and Eatrangelros. Camoeos, Filo> 
demo, Amfitrioenti Selluco. Antonio Jos^ 
(the Jew burnt io 1745,) comic operas. 
P. Ant. Cmrea Garcao, Novo Theairoi 
and Asaemblea. 

Digitized byCoOt^le 

MueellantdM LitenOy tfotiees. 

ARTiqmtm aks Statistics. — Leao, D». 
crip^ao de Portugal ; also Origein da Lin- 
goa Ponugueza ; De vcrn Regum Portu- 
galiiieGenealogia; OrthographiadaLingoa 
Ponugueza; Colicjao defeis eziravamniea 
Sevenm ; Noticias de Portugal, and Varios 
discoraoa poliiicos. Paiva d^ Andrada. Ex- 
ame de Antiquidades. Mendea de Vascon- 
celloa. Do sitio de Littboa. Oliveira, Grand- 
ezas de Lisboa. Marinho d' Azevedo, Anli- 
Quidades de Lisboa. Andre de Bezende, 
AntiquidBtles de Evora. 


St. PrniBSBUsaB. — Smirdin. the principal 
publisher in Ibis capital, haa recently issued 
tbe first volume of a Ulented work on Riia- 
riati literature. It is entitled Sto Kusklkh 
Liieratoror. Tbe priQcipnl papers are by 
Senkowsky, Davidov, MarHnsky, Zotov, 
Sukolink, Svinin, and Prince Sbakovsky. 

Tschernezowi the academician, baa re- 
cently returned from hia travels along tbe 
banks of the Volm. He haa brought with 
him more than 100 views and plans, with 
which tbe Emperor has expressed the hieh- 
est satisfaction, and has directed tbe publi- 
^tion of Ihem, with the voluminous des- 
ciiptiona with which they are accompanied. 

Hitherto tbe title of " citizen of the first 
class" could not belield by the Jews in Rus- 
sia. The emperor bnsjusl Issued an order 
to the minister ofthe Interior, by which this 
title may t>e held by any Jew who renders 
himself worthy of it by persood merit, or by 
any eminent service rendered to the state 
either in art, science, manufacture, trad^ oi 

RaBtnutlNa or tkk KfiXXLiii at Mos- 
cow.- It ia built in tbe old style of Russo- 
Tartar architecture- Upon the roof there is 
to be ft terem or large pavilion, in tbe form 
of a tent, sucb as whs found in all the places 
of residence of tbe ancient czars, and In 
which tbey shut up their women. The ii^ 
terior of tbe palace will correapond with the 
exterior, as the disposition of the apart- 
ments, their form, ornameuls, tapestry, and 
furniture, even to the most minute details 
are to be in the Russo-Tartar style. 

The po^lation of Russia, on tbe 1st ot 
January, 1839, exceeded 00,000,000 inhabit- 
ants. The (Caucasian and Trans- Cauca- 
sian provinces are not included in this 

We alio find eitraordlnary instances of 
l^gevity ; ibere being at the time in the 
ntisabn dominiona— 

8SSpers(HUorfroinlODt» 105 

12» 110 . 115 

130 116 . 120 

lU 121 . 125 

3 . . ISe . 130 

S . , 13110 140 

1 . ■ 145 

3 ■ . lOOto 105 

During the year 1838—893 iKirks vren 
printed in Russia : of these 777 were origi- 
nal works, and 110 were translations, in 
the year 1837—869 works were jirinted : 7M 

mnkinK the total of the last year 944 
works. The number of volumes imported 
into Russia during tbe past year amounted 
to 400,000 Volumes. 

Wallachu.—A CDinpany of young ladies 
at Jasjy have undertafcen to transbte the 
best claaalcal works of foreign tooguea into 
Moldavian. Some of these are already 
published. Prince Stourdza, the HospodaD, 
who has widely patroniaed Uterature, haa 
awarded gold and silver meduA to some of 
the fair labourers. 


Tbe first number of a quarterly Review 
tnu been pubWKd at Carislab. It ia en- 
titled Lisning 1 blmdade Amnes, and Is 
pablisbed' under the auspices of the young 
Count Adleaparre, asonof the'weU-kNDwB 
promoter of the Revolution of 1809. It haa 
aiready created a great seniiatioa, parties 
larly an article by Tegner on *' tbe Bffiscts 
of the RevolutiOQ on the Swedish People," 
Amongthfc contribmonare Bishops Frauaao 
and Agardh, and Miss Brehmer, the talmtt- 
ed authoress of •' Teckntngar ur Hvardags- 

Mies Linne, the daucbter oT the oelebrafr 
ednaturalisl, dIedatVpaal, on nd March, 
at tbe advai»!ed age of nineiy-one, and waa 
buried with great pomp oo tbe fiih of April. 
The leading members of the Univerrity at- 
tended her foneral. 

The popuklion of Sweden has been r^ 
cently found to consist of S,03S,140 eotils, 
showing an increase of one-ilfUi since the 
ssceositm ofthe present sovereign. 

An edition of the Swedish poets has hem 
issued by the talented P. D. A. Atterbom, 
entitled Dikter ) Prosa. Tbe second vol- 
ume, containing (bur miniature novels, has 
Just appeared, and commences with an ex- 
cellent prologueto** Phosphoroa," ono ofthe 
finest poems in the collection. Tbe first 
two volumes have been published at UpsaL 

This learned professor, Atterbom, haa 
contributed several papers to a new literary 
journal, tbe " Mlmer, msnadsskriflfbr Vit- 
terhet, Historia philasophi och Statskuns- 
kap," which appears monthly at Upsal. 
His article in the January number is on the 
History of Phlloso^y ; in the February 
part, on the Ancient Tradhkna (tbe Mosaic;. 
There ere aeveral interesting articles io the 
Harcb and April numbers. 

The well-known prejudice against picturoa 
has not altogether prevented a taste for this 
delightful an in the oatlvea. Capt, IbraUm 
Efiendi, one of the young Turkish offlcara 
sent to England for unprovenani, haB^atl. , 


tained & Ufh proOofflncy in thia art« and to 
which we are happr to bear teatimony. 
The portrait! axbcuted by him in oil possess 
coDBidenible merit -, his wat«r-colour draw- 
ings approach the effect of paiDtings, and 
the atylQ and fiaish of hta miniatures is — ' 
euily equalled avea here. Though but 
amateur, we thiak thUgeDtleroan, who speaks 
Euglisti with great facilit; and astoaishiogly 
well, ii destined to lead ihe way to bis coun- 
trynian In t&ata and the fine arts. 


Acluned Pacha, gorenior of Senaar, is 
about to send an expedition along the White 

M. Main, m Frenchman at Alexandria, 
auerta that PoRipey's Pillar and Cleopatra's 
Needle are only cement. 


Frank Hall Blandiah, Esq.. the talenWd 
author of " The ShorM ot the Uediterra- 
nean," "The Northern Capitala of Europe," 
Ho. ttc^ haf a wurk of great Interest in the 
presa, enliUed Seville and ita Eoriroos, 
wUoh will be embelUabed with a portrail 
of the author. 

The lovers of aciaDce will derive great 
gratificatioD ftom the perusal of the " Out- 
lines of Anatogieal Philosophy," by Oeorge 
Field. Esq. Ite work ia interspersed with 
many weD-execaled diagrams, and ia very 
■kilfully divided into eectional diviaiuu, 
which form a ready reference to the philo- 
sophic leader. 

An interesting "Essay on the Literature 
and Learning of the Aaglo-Saxont," by 
Thomas Wright, Esq., baa recently appear- 
ed, and attracted continental attention. 

A selection fH>m Jean Paul F. Richter's 
beautiful writliigs bave been verj carefully 
translated by A. Kenney Esq., of Dresden, 
and published in hoadon under thetiilaof 
••Death of an Angel, and other pieces." 
They are accompanied with a sketch of 
Richter's life and character- 

A olerer little volume of Oennan, French 

JfoMttcMWOHi' tiUmry NtUtt. 

anil Eoffllsb Conversations is now In the 
press. It is on an entirely new plan, and 
preceded by a philosophical introducUtn to 
the study oi Eur(q>ean and Orieoial Langua- 

The want of a good Guide Book for the 
south-eastern part of Europe has long been 
complained ofi and we hail the appearance 
of Mr. R. T. Claridge's - Guide down the 
Danube" with great pleasure : still we think 
the title might have been more comprehen- 
sive in the extent of the firat few words ; it 
ia in fact a Guide to Southern Europe, for 
the author has traced out the routes to 
Smyrna, Greece^ Ihe Ionian Islands, the 
rouie to India br way of Egypt, and from 
Paris to Harseilles. It will form a valuabto 
addition to the list of hand books. 

Another work, highly interesting to the 
summer tourist, bearing the title "Xegends 
of the Rhine," has just been published. It 
contains all the traditionary lore connected 
with the castellated ruins, and little villages 
which ornament the banks of this pictures- 
que river ; the materials have been verr 
carefully collected bv S. Soowe Esq., and 
sent forth In two banascHne volume^ embeU 
i'tshed with wood-cuts, and some well execut- 
ed engravings on zmc. It isto t>ere{^retted 
this work was not completed earlier m the 

AvA. — A tremendous earttaqaake occur- 
red at Amcrapoara between two and three 
o'clock on the rooming of the 28d March, 
and extended wiih equal violence north- 
ward as &T as ToungnoT, and south to 
Prome. Pagodas, mooasterlra, brick dwel- 
ling-houses, all within the cily and on the 
neighbouring bills, were destroyed, and from 

the Irrawaddi was forced upwards for some 
time i large fissures in Ihe ground, from 10 
' IS feet, formed deluges of water, and 

villages near the_ capital are In ruins, and 
the ud city of Ava is said to be destroyed. 

Digitized byGoOgle 


tut of New Werkt 


Spleker, C. W., Ge«chichte"der Einftlhr- 
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SirauHB, Dr., uod die Zbrchei Kircbe von 
W. deWetle. Bvo. Basil. Is. 

• •, Vie de Jeeus, ou Exainen critique 
de son histoire. Vol. L Svo. Paris. 7s- 

Tafel, T. L. F., De Theaaalonica eiusque 
aero. Bvo. Berlin. ISa. 

Theile, C. G. G., Commentarius in No- 
TUDi Testamenlum edendum. Vol. XIU. 
8vo. Lips. 16s- 

Theolo^sche Studien und Kritiken. — 
ReeiBter 1828^1837. 8vo. Hamb. 2b. 6d. 

Tholuck, VprmiKcbe Sclirlflen, gr6ssten- 
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LAW, juBiaraimEiiCE, akd STATianca. 

Allgemeine Uebersicht des Konigreiclis 
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Leipz. la. 6d. 

Boczek. A., Codex Diplomaticus et epis- 
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4to. Brun. XL 

Bruggben, J. J. L., De officio judtcis. 
Vol. 11. 8vo. Botterdam. %a. 

Dirksen. Manuale laiiniiatia Tontium 
Juris civilis Romanorum thesauri laiinitotis 
epitome. Part IX. 4lo. Berlin. Bubscrip- 
tion price, 6s. 

Hoffmann, 1. G., Die Bevelkeronic des 
Preusaixchen Stnats, nach dem Ergebnisae 
dcrzu eode 1837 amtlich aufgenommenen 
Nachrichten. 4to. Berlin. 15s. 

LerocnnaiB. De la luite entre la couret le 
pouvoir parle mental re. 32 mo. Paris, 

Mauranbrecher, R., De ancioritate pru- 
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Moreau-Christophe, Rapport h M. le 
comte de Moniaiivel, pair de France, 
minisire secritolre d'etat au department de 
I'inUrieur, aur lea prisons de TAncl^terrp, 
de I'Ecosse, de la Hollande, de lo Belgique 
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Notitia Dignitalum et Administrationum 
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PardesBUSi Cnllection de Inls marilimes 
anlericursau dix-huiti6me si^cle. Vol. V. 
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Raspail, R^forme penitential re. Lettres 
aur les prisons de Paris, Vol. I. 8vo. 
Paria. 9a. 

Ri-den, F., Doa Kfinigrelcb Hanover sta- 
tistisch bescbrieben. 8vo. Hnnover. 18s. 

Slowaczynski, Statislique gen^ra^c de la 
Title de Krakovie et de son territoire. 
^arts IV. and V.— De la Scatistlque d» la 
Pologne.) IBnw. Paris. 2-.. 6d. 

Sommer, J. O., Das Ktinigreieb Bohmen 
■tatiatich topographlsch dargestellt. Vol. 
Vll. 8V0. Prague. 7s. 

— Lehrbuch der Erd und Btaaten- 

kunde. Vol.11. Part III. Prague. 5s. 

, Das Kalserthum Oeatarreicb, 

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Prague. Sa. 

Zacharaie, C. E., Hlatoriae June Greeco 
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Ampere. Histoire litt^raire de la Franca 
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Bibliothek der geaaammten deutachen 
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Dassance, Cours de kitt^rature ancienne 
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Descartes, Oeuvrea philosophiques, pub- 
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Du Mferili Histoire de la po^ie scandi- 
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Geruzez, Essaisd'histoirelitteraire. Svo. 
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Grassp, J. G. T., Lebrbuch einer allge- 
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Dresd. 11b. Bd. 

Heusde, Characterismi principum philo- 
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KiintsWerke. InlOvols. Vol. VI. 8vo. 
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eorfaltig revidirie. Gea- 

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Osan, v., Beitrage zilr Griechiachen und 
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Rapp, H. M., Die Sprachen des Miilelal- 
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Reinhold, E., Lehrbuch der Gcschichteder 
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Rognist, aln^ Essai d'une philoxopbifl 
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Salnte-Beuve, Critiques el porirait* lit- 
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Sigwart, H. C. W., Der Spinozismus hia- 
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Tubingen. 4s> 

MEDICAl. Aid) 

Advena, De Metrorrhagia. Dissertatio 
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Albers, J, F. H., Atlas der patbologischen 
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Folio. Bonn. Ts. 

Amnion, F. A., Die chirurgische Patholo- 
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Analekten der Chlrurgie. Vol. II. 8vo. 
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Bock, An&toDiischeB Taschenbuch. 6vo. 
Leipz. 68. 

fiucklaad, Rev. Dr. Wm., Geologie uad 
Hinenilogie id Beztehung zur nfiturlichsn 
Thaiilogie ikberaetzl, uad mlt Aamerkungen 
und ZusUzen von Dr. L. Agassiz. VaT. I. 
ud II. Svo. BruDsw. 21. 10<(. 

Bulletin des Scieacea physiques el natur- 
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Burmeisier, H.. Genera inseclorum. 
IconJbus illus. et descrip. Vol. I. No. III. 
8vo. Berlin. 5s. 

Chelius, H. J., Handbucli der Augenheil- 
kunde zum Gabrauchs bei aeinea Vorles- 
uugen. Vol. II. Stult. 139. 6d. 

Carda, A. C. J., Pracht Flora europilscher 
BchimnielbjlduDgen. With twenty-five 
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Cotia, B4 Anleiiung zum Stadium der 
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Deshayasi Traili M^mantaire de Qonchyli- 
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Desplanches, Traits des maladies de 
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Dierbach, J. H.i Oruadrissdcr allgemein- 
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Eisner. M., Synopsis Florae Cervimonta- 
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Encyclopftdisches Wfirterbuch der medici- 
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Digitized byGoOgle 



A«T. I. — Ariadne. — Die Tbaqiichb 
EuNST der Griechen ttt iArer Enheickt' 
Ittfg, tmd in ihrem Zutammenhange mit 
der VoLKSPuESiB. Von O. F, Gruppe. 
{Ths Tragic An of the Gteeka. By 
P. aruppe.) Berlin. 1834. 

Wrbn Schlflgel (in 1816) gave to the world 
hia eel«bratM dramatic lectures, it was 
tanil in the then slate of out crilici«m 
•uppoM that he wished to make a senaation 
in the literary commoti wealth by orer- 
trumpeling the Greek drama altogether, 
and especially by outragt^ously bepralaing 
^schylua, Sophocles, and Aristophanei 
tbe ezpeoie ofEuripidea. What e&ecl, 
may now reasonably oak, has exp<;rience of 
more ttian twenty years bad in confirming, 
Weakening, or in any wise modifyiug ihe 
critical dBcisiona of the Qerman Ariaiar- 
chusf Where does our English critji 
of the Greek theatre stand at the present 
oiomentT Have we been moving at alii 
And if we have been moving, have we ad- 
vanced in tbe line of Scblcgel, and beyond 
8c h lege! I— or have we been forced to re- 
trace ihe rash steps we ventured in bis track, 
after discovering him to be a quack and a 
deceiver, a big decleimer of sublime no- 
things, ader tbe true German fashion, 
as we charitably imagine that fashion to be t 
Have we, with genuine British productive- 
ness, pioneered a new path for ouredves, 
and entered heart and hand into living fel- 
lowship with ancient Greek ppelry, byim. 
mediUe and direct wedlock 1 Or ao w« 

Tot. sxiv. n 

still curiously amuse our academic leisure 
with measuring mechani(:al cfie^uras and 
fingering Crelic endings ; and paring the 
nails, and " unrolh'ng the mumniy-b<indK- 
gea" of antiquity, ana in various uiher edi- 
fying nays calling the ancients Lord, Lord, 
and doing not the things which they say } 
The answer to these questions is short. 
IMitchell and Sandford and other native 
scholars have publisbed to the British pub. 
lie that the Gi-rman was quite right in the 
matter of Aristophanes. Tbe pious labours 
of Blomfield, Scholcfield, and others seem 
to be a clear admission that lie was also 
right in the matter of JEechy\uB. As to 
Sophocles, no person ever ventured to doubt 
the justice of his praise ; though perhapa 
here and there a cold English litlerattur 
might have venom enough in his dry, dusty 
heart to criticize down tbe fine embueiaam 
of the German into " rhodomontade," 
With Euripides the case is, we believe, yei 
tub judict; but we are inclined to think 
tbul, among those who interest themselves 
these mailers, there prevails a pretty ge- 
ral feeling in favour of the scourged tra- 
gedian and an inclination, by the applica- 
tion of lenimenls and sooihing drugs, to 
smooth away the point of Schlegel's ridi. 
cule. But ts (his anything more than a 
feeliagi a vei^ amiable and pretty feeling 
indeed, but withal a prejudice, arising mure 
from superstitious reverence for antiquity 
than religious Inve of truth. Has any per- 
son 8uc«teded in diaproving the charges 
which the acute Qermaa brought aga^ 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Mtritt of Euripiit»> 

the blundering Greek T or do atl theae 
charges stand unrefuted in the lut edilioa 
of the Oreek theMre, and the last classical 
ulicla of_tbe Quarterly Reriew t I^et us 
inquire calmly. 

We asaeit that the accusations of Schlegel 
will stand the test of ihe most severe and 
icrutiiiizing criticism, and moreover that 
he broueht no charge against the lragi»itan 
which does not lis clearly implied, if not 
explicitly said) in the works of the most 
acute and discerning of the ancients. The 
Uerman knew well what ground he was 
standing on ; and be cites expressly the au- 
thority of Aristotle and Qjiinctilien to sup- 
port his views. Add to this the authority 
of Aristophanes, now (thanks to Welcher 
and Hitchell) no longer sneered at by prim 
martinets of criticism, as a low buffoon and 
a common jester, but held up to public ad. 
miration as at once the journalist, the critic, 
the censor, the dmmatiat of the most po- 
lished, and the prime wit of Ihe most wilty 
age of Qreeca — something above Rabelais, 
but not quite so high as Shakspeare. Hin 
however, we pass. 

Bui what says Aristotlel He compli 
ments Euripides certainly as the most tragic 
of the tragedians, but in a manner and in a 
connection which altogether precludes the 
supposition that he meant by this phrase to 
crown the name of Euripides with serious 
dramatic eulogy. The philosopher (Poet, 
e. IS) is discoursing about the effect ol dis' 
mal, and, what we call, tragic calastrophee 
in the drama; and, in accordance with hie 
own theory of moving pity and terror, he 
(somewhat narrowly, doubtless) awards the 
superiority to tbo^a dramas which end — 
the blackest mischance — "i ttm^ftiu nXnrt 
Medea, according to this theory, is a beller 
drama than Ihe Eumenides, and Hecube than 
Philocteles ; and Euripides, he adds, i 
this respect much to be praised, because 

faiHrai. What value is lobe placed upon Aris- 
totle's opinioninamatlerof this kind we shall 
presently inquire ; but Ihe praise, taken at its 
highest value, isvery scant indeed. Euripides, 
in so far as his catastrophes are concerned, 
ifl very savage and bloody, and therefore 
" ihongk in taker retpectt he mimaget bad. 
ly," yet in this he may be considered '' Ihe 
nwat tragic of the poets." Alas ! for poor 
John Ford, if we had nothing more to say 
for his great play than that he murders half- 
a-dozen respectable persons in the course of 
it, and in the last scene we find the stage 

And vet this much, and no more, is the 
compliment which (he gtagyrite pays to 
Eunpidaa when he calls him the moat tragic 
of the poets. 

We ourselves are willing to concede 
much more. We say that Euripides is not 
only the most tragic of the peels in respect 
of bloody catastrophes (though the contrary 
is true of many of his plays), but also the 
most patheiic in respect of moving elo- 
quence, and the moat pleasing in respect of 
sweet, flowing and elegant declamation. 
But with all these accomplishments we do 
not make him a dramatist, or Ihe shadow 
of a dramatist. What thenf — a lytisti 
Unquestionably. A rheioncian ; this chiefly, 
and beyond all doubt, as Cicero well knew, 
himself the great pattern, and Quinctilian, 
the great master, of Roman eloquence, 
auinclilian also, like the Slagyrile, seems 
to eulogize Euripdes- But alas! only 
teem. His praise is pure damnatran, not 
because it is faint, but because it is too 
strong the wrong way ; for a roan may as 
well commend a song by saying that it is 
very epigrammatic, as commenaa tragedy 
by saying that it is very rhetorical, and (what 
is worse) very forensic. These are Quincli- 
iian's words : and for the sake of sound sense 
and impartial criticism we shall quote them 
at length : — " IHud quidem nemo non fate- 
turnecesse esse, iis, qui seed agendum com- 
psrenl uiiliorem longe Euripidem fora. 
Nam is et in sermone magis accedit oratorio 
geoeri ; et senlentiis densus : et in iis qua a 
sapientibus tradita stmt, pene ipsis par, et in 
dicendo el respondendo, cuilibet eorum qui 
fuerunt in foro diaerti, comparandus. In 
afTectibus vero cum omnibus mirus, turn in 
iis qui miseratione constant facile preci- 
puus." In plain English, if a man wishes 
to speak smooth wordsby thehour, lostava 
off" the decision o( a hopeless caae, (o white- 
wash ihe rottenness ofknavish particulars by 
the apeciousiiess of virtuous generals, to 
move a silly jury to leora over the self-cre- 
ated miseries of a fool ; — in such cases let 
him stud^ Euripides. This is the advice of 
Quioclilian ; and had the poel of the Medea 
written in English, and not in Greek, we 
should have most heartily joined in enforc- 
ing the advice on our young barristers. Ab 
it IS, we must confess ourselves exceedingly 
•ceptiral as to the amount of real benelit to 
be derived by English speakers from the 
study either of Greek orators or Greek 
oratorical play.writers. Life is too shorf, 
and art too long, for every man's professional 
Iliad to begin with the egg of Leda. 

But as to the Greeks and the Ramans 
(who all spoke Greek) Qninctilian was un- 
doubtedly right; and indeed he says no 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Meritt ofEur^tida. 

more than what AriatopheiKS had aud be- 
fore him (though in a different style) when 
he lauffhed the sensitire poet away to Usee- 
donia (see Thomas Hagister's Life) hy call- 
ing him »««r>r p»^"i«w*"mM'(the poet of 
forensic phrases) and other surnames too 
true to be reltshed. Euripides was a verj 
king of rhetoric i ana ; so all his biographers 

inform us ; mW»»t rpmjnpi ^Byan Ml ftinfiimt, 

says Blmsley'a anonymous biographer ; and 
though but the son of a miner and a seller 
of kiichen herbs (Arislophsnrte knew belter 
than Moschopulus), yet he could afibrd to 
talce leasons from Prodicus, (he famous 
itinerant sophist, who charged fii\y drachmae 
every time he opened his mouth, and was 
at last put to death by the Alfaeninns (ss 
Zen ophon relates) for corrupting the youth 
of [he city. There is indeed greet reason 
to suppose that Euripides attog ether mistook 
hia caltiDg in applying iiimself to the drama ; 
and to judge from the notice of his biogra. 
pheis (there are three besides Suidas) com- 
pared with the very marked character of 
His works, we feel ourselres warranted in 
■aying that ha was intended by nature, per- 
haps for a painter, perhaps for a barrister, 
most probably for a union of sophist and 
philosopher — certainly not for a dramatisl. 
Moaehopulus and Suidas tell us that he ap. 
plied himself to drama only Bt\er be had 
seen, by the sad eromple of Anaxagoras, 
that it was an unsafe thing for a Greek to 
philosophize : what therefore he could not 
■ay in his own person n Ithout denser of the 
hemlock, he could say by the mouth of 
others in fictitioua dialogue. This was not 
a very straightforward proceeding certainly ; 
and the more blameable for this reason that 
the Athenian tragedians were all sacred . 
■poets, and attached by virtue of their office 
to the religion of the stale. That this story 
is true we have pretty strong evidence in 
the eighteen surviving iragediea ; all his 
characters, men, women, end children, her- 
alds, nurses, and drunken deities, are ever 
philosophizing, in season and out of season ; 
what we call dialt^e is with him oration : 
and the insinuation and peroration of every 
speech is a philosophic gnome: nothing 
with him is done or said without cause 
ahown, as the lawyers say ; every cfaarac. 
ter is a herald of himMJf; no one is virtu- 
ous without discoursing on his virtue; no 
one is natural (when it chances to be) 
without a formal treatise on the •' rinere 
eomenienUr naitira ;" every hero and he- 
roine is lavish of lile, generally without a 
dramatic motive, never without a rhetorical 
reason ; a mother wilt not even weep fat 
her dead child without telling you how pro 
per a thing it is for mothers to be pitiful ; 


turn where you will, at all times and Jn all 
cosea, yon find rhetoric, morality, phitoao 
phy, by intention — drama sometimes, and, 
in soma cases, by chance. 

It is a most curious thing to observe, with 
regard to Euripides, that hb biographers 
have, with the most amiable simplicity, nar- 
rated, as his greatest virtues, what arc, in 
fact, his greatest and most obvious faults. 
Xo Bosweil, for ioatance, ever matched the 
following, from Thomas Magisier. 

'■ He shone in tragedy, and was the au- 
thor of many inventions in the art dramatic; 
whioh none of bis predecessors had an idea 
of; for the adumbration of the argument to 
the commencement of the play, leading the 
hearer by the hand, as it were, into the se- 
cret of the atory, is peculiar to Euripides ; ' 
the clearness and breadth of his dialmrue it 
also remarkable; and his style is distin- 
guished no less by justness of argument 
than by graceful rh3rthm ; he is abundant tn 
philosophic gnomes, and they are always 
well suited to the subject" * 

Of all this eulogy only one article containa 
any real praise — that of the gracefulness of 
the Buripideaa rhythm. His choruses float 
luxuriantly, like a rich bed of white ranun- 
culus and water-lihes ; a strange contrast to 
the strong, rough outline of jfischylus ; an 
angular writing, which, with much labour, 
those learned in the priestly wisdom of 
Egypt alone can spell ; but this is the praise 
of a lyric poet, and we are at present writing 
of the drama. 

Now, aa to the first matter of the pro- 
logue, it ia happily quite true, aa Magiater 
says, that this is an invention {"X'l/") of 
Euripides ; so characteristic) indeed, is it of 
this writer, that the only two dramas which 
want it, the Rhesus and the Ipbigenia in 
Aulls, have, for this among other reasons, 
been shrewdly suspected to be the product 
of some other pen. With regard to the 
Rhesus, the matter seems pretty certain, for 
tbi ancients have transmitted their doubts 
aa to its authenticity; and external com. 
bfnes here with internal evidence to warrant 
the scepticism of a modern critic. The 
doubts as to the Iphigenia originate, wo be- 
lieve, with Herr Glruppo, concerning whose 
valuable work we shall have occasion to say 
more immediately. 

But what sort of a thing, in truth, is this 
Euripidean prologue? &:hleget has com- 

iftjiimt ri|> i«S»i> iianmvr, (u rtt «fHnt> um^ 
Xtif»Y«>r'" "I " «f»f«««n. Kwf,w,ttt rij^f-"- r, n 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


MtriU of Bmr^^itUt. 

pared it to the speaking labela which coma 
out of the moutha of the figures in old paint- 
ings; and the compariMui is DOt meiely 
humorous, as some have observedf hut lit- 
erally and strikingly (rue. The Euripidean 
prologue is a forihal snd delailcd piece of 
self- he raiding by some principaL cbarasler 
in the play, which in the iDhacy of the 
dramatio art — Id I%rynichua and .Sschylus 
—might have been tolerated ; but in Euri- 
pides is altogether without palliation. It is 
the clumsy blunder of a rhetorician, who 
takes delight in tricking out, in an elaborate 
statement of the coses, what ought to be 
elicited by nalurol dialogue, or quietly educed 
by befitting soliloquy. A more undramatic, 
anlidramatic javeniion Euripides could not 
have stumbled on. Take, for instance, the 
prologue to the Iphigenia in Taurit, which 
begins like the pedigree of a race-horse, 
flir back as the memory of famous ancestry 

«<HV» Iwni, Oin ■ - ■ 

tH TvrlapilK %iT*l( l^iytmi Mft, 
)> ^ft ilnii ti et^' Kifiin in»<if< 
■IpaiC Itinrur mmiti. (X> "flfti, 
l*f*ttr 'EXIrm rirtx', iv i*nl, nritp 

Lot tho Student of poetry compare this 
formal exposition of lineage with the natural 
and beautiful raliloquy spoken by the same 
Iphigenia, in Ooihe's classical play,f and he 
will understand at once what a rare inven- 
tioa the Euripidean prologue is, and what 
the fwiKiuB praise of Thomas Magister is. 

But this is not all. The Euripidean pro- 
logue not only states what is, nrul what has 
been exhibited of the story preparatory to 
and beyond the action) but it anticipates the 
action itself, and blabs the final catastrophe 
in the opening speech. 80 in the Ion ; so 
in the Hecuba ; lo also in the Alcestts, (r. 
89,) thou;^h the prol >gue of this play is cast 
in the shape of a dialogae. The story of 
Hecuba is welt known. Euripides' play 
represents the sorrows of the captive queen ; 
and is more properly a dramatic wail than 

what we call a drama. To exhibit a wail 
dramatically it seems pretty obvioua that 
tidings of unexpected woe should break in 
upon the suf!erer, stroke after stroke increas- 
ing in eevority. Thus, like the Prometheus 
Bound, the Hecuba might have acquired the 
simple grandeur of s picture whose acces- 
sary figures are varied, and light after light 
is thrown in upon the principal group, every 
new light bringing out its significancy in 
more skilful relief But Euripides, the fine 
rhetorician, and bearded philoKipher,(iX(ytr* it 

/)•««> ntywi Bft<pm, — Ytt. Am*. ) WOB UOt 

a man to take a lesson from the stout, old 
soldier-bard of the Prometheus ; he doubt* 
less conceited himself far in advance of a 
poet whom even Ari&lotle thought too old- 
fashioned to be pruaed ; he has sneered at 
the father of tragedy in more places than 
one, where the Mluaion is as obvious as it ia 
ungenerous.* It ia the duty of posterity to 

* " Palopi, the MD of Tantalni, eomiof to Pin 
with siritt hotaw, muriBd the diughtei of (£no- 
maos, of wbom Atrem was bom ; the >ona ofAtra- 
M woe MoMUtM and Agamemnon, of which An. 
■nsmnon sod the daughter rf Tyndireo^ J, Iphi. 
ftaU, an the dsochtar; whom, Qsar Ihs current! 
which EanpiM. wfth frequeDt bneiea ourlin^ the 
dark m*, urgw, rnj fathar mcriflced, ai ii belioTed, 
to Artemii, for the nko of Helen, in the larnoui 
ha; oTAulii" 

t •• Heiani ia Ears Sohntten ng» WipM 
Des altn huUgMi dioht-balaBbtni HsiMi !■ &«. 

return the sneer; and it may be most fitly 
caal upon the prologue of the Hecuba. Here 
the son of the Phrygian queen formally an. 
Dounces himaelf to the spectators in the shape 
of a gbost ; be has been murdered by a Thra- 
cian barbarian, and is waiting for burial ; 
his sister Polyzene is to be slaughtered to 
satisfy the maoes of Achilles; these two 
things are formally expounded in a long pro- 
logue of sixty lioea ; and this fiir no other 
purpose that can be imagined, than that they 
may be expounded a second time in the 
simple course of a short play, and the sym. 
pathetic spectator be scientifically prepared 
not to feel too deeply the woes of ibe be- 
reaved mother. This blunder ia so mon- 
alrous, that a modern reader will hardly be- 
lieve it. Surely Arisic^hanea was entitled 
to indulge his lungs in a hearty laugh at suob 
dramatic incapability. 

What if .^^hylus had announced lo and 
Hermes in a formal oration before the ad- 
mirable opening dialogue of the PrometheusT 
Choked and smothered his plot in its very 
first breath of lifel And yet there have 
been critics, and aenaible critics too, who 
have not found language strong enough to 
eipresa " the transcendent and bewiichins 
beauty " of the Euripidean prologues, and 
who have recorded their mirpriac that So- 
phocles had for the most part omitted " this 
elegant iDiroduclion."t We believe that 
neither Sophocles nor ^cbylus ever herald- 
ed their playa into notice with such cold for- 
mal chnn eery statements as the prologues in 
question. There ia not even one [day out 

The puai^ are well known — oa 
Elcctra and the other in the Phceniuw. 
i We are qootinff now from an otherwi 

the BdlntHir|h Bsvlew, vol. ilia. 
Digitized byGoOt^le 


1/tniM <^Eurifi4tt. 


of the nran which femun (o lu by the Ta- 
tber of tragedy, where the prologue etanda 
out from the piece lilie the loos sign of a 
cheap Bbop, aa is the literal character of 
Dion of those of Euripides. 

The most formal prologue ia fschylus 
Is thai of the Eumenidu, where the Python- 
ess of Delphi explains her office and its de- 
•ceat somewhat over ouriously ; but the pro- 
logue does not proceed long with this formal- 
ity : th« genius of iSschylus speedily hreaks 
out; and we ara plunged at once into the 
middle of a sceaS) whi<^ for breadth of dra- 
matic outline, and intensity of dramatic effect, 
has been rivalled only by Shokspeare. But 
JEachylaa, for the most part, begins his plays 
with the chorus ; (a «^i-^' in anapnstic 
rersa, or march-time ;) or where he prefixes 
a speech, a« that of the watchman in the 
Agamemnon, it is natural and apprcpriate, 
ai^ an essential part of the oction ; or he 
•eU out, OS in the Seven, with a dialogue, 
also natural and appropriate, and the proper 
starling-point of what foliows. With such 
an example before him (to say nothing of the 
finished wit of Sophocles) when Euripides 
purposely introduced his famous invention of 
the prologue, whai can we say, but that he 
showed himsplf an eloquent rhetorician and 
declaimer, but uninstructed in the very com- 
monest laws of dramatic composition J 

With regard to tlie oiner items of Magis- 
ter's eulogy, we have only to say, that ihe 
HfiTMu end 'laiK which he so much lauds, 
do on not a few occasions trnnsform them, 
•elves tolo that thin transparency and loose 
breadth of style which is another of those 
obvious characteristics that stamp Euripides 
as an orator, not a dramaliiit. Besides, what 
critic will say that breadth and clearness are 
the distinguishing characteristics of a good 
dramatic stylet If this is not nervous, vig- 
orous, and manly, it is no dramatic style. 
Without a certain pregnant Laconism it 
cannot be so ; and therefore it is that wo 
Knglish are so much better dramatists than 
Ibe ancient Greeks or the modern Oermana 
The be^t of the former were too curious 
about mere words ; tr.ere were more fluent 
orators than wise generals in the late libera- 
tion war ; and as to the Germans, and their 
most undramatic literaturo — we speak al 
thiojM, and they discourse about things. 

We said above, that Euripides was per- 
haps intended by nature for a painler. We 
shall add a word of eiplanation on this 
matter. Painters are seldom talkera; he 
who has trained his eye to learn the wisdom 
of God is, for the most pari, alow of tongtie 
to babble the vain conceit of man i and Sir 
Joshua Reynolds justly considers it as a 
great evil when a son of the brush is tempted 

to win popularity by the easy praise of fluant 
discourse. Nevertheless we have some pro- 
blematic minds, such as Fuseli, «i whom it 
is difficult to say whether nature meant them 
to Bzpress ttwir quick fancies simultaneously 
or successively. GAthe also bod a long 
battle with himself as to his proper destina- 
tion in this respect ; and it is cprtain that hii 
later works smack more of tiie artist than 
the man : calm Arabesque paintiiiK, not vig- 
orous poetic movement. Somellung of a 
like nature seems discoverable in Euripides. 
His biographers inform us, not merely that 
lie was an amateur in the fine arts, but that, 
in the outset of his career, he actually was 
a painter j and in proof of this they tell us, 
that pictures by hira were publicly exhibited 
at Megara. In remarkable accordance with 
this statement ts the style of his works, in 
which the most superficial reader must have 
noticed that the descriptive and pictorial parts ' 
are generally the best. The upt^v iw, ««<« 
ii of his formal, rhetorical declamations, mis- 
named diabgue, almost always wearies ; but 
the vividness and richness of his paintmg, 
whether it be of a Baccbantic revel among 
the woods of Cithoron. a sacrifice in the 
harbour of Aulis, or a chariot race on the 
plains of Elis, never fails to charm. And 
who, with an eye for art, csn read the He- 
cuba, and pass over the beautiful picture in 
the well-known lines spoken by Polyxeue to 
Ulysses 1 

rrflfrtTM, fill m wfKMft' rii^Mrt.* 

As in other places nature is substituted by 
rhetoric, so here actkin is supplanted by the 
officious painting of action. We are not 
unaware that ^icbylus paints also, and the 
Greek drama generally more than it ought ; 
but our remark is, that Euripides is as pe- 
culiarly strong in pictorial description as he ia 
Weak in dramatic effect, and clumsy io drama- 
tic machinery. The student will examine for 
himself; hot if our remark be right, then, in 
one respect at least, Mr. Taylor, of Nor. 
wich, (that " Arch.philistine"f ) was not so 
far wrong when he compared Gdthe to Eu- 
ripides j and Lord Byron, when he said that 
he did not relish pointing, spoke perhaps the 
instinctive voice of nature, siace he was 
born to be a poet. 

The dramatic incapacity of Euripides, 

• " I see thee, UI;mci, hiding thy right fasnd in 
thy msntle, and turning Ihy face from rao, loft I 
■hould touch thj chin" (Ihe aaeieat form of auppli- 

t " A niili«tinB i« w. man who wmlka aozioDMy 
iquo sf fs>" — Burtktn Song. 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Mtritt of Eur^idu. 


over and above the mattara already touched 
on, appears priDcipally in these three things. 

Firit. The different parta of his plot do 
not grow organically viiih, ts, and otii of one 
another ; but one part is pieced io another, 
or patched on iL 

SecoHdly. Even with the moat ainiple ma- 
terials he fails to produce a unity of impres- 
■ioDj the good is universally neutralized by 
something bad ; and confusion and dissatis* 
faction are the result. 

Thirdig. His characiera want naluroi truth 
and consistency; and it is but loo manifest 
thai not they are speaking, but the rhetori- 
cian and philosopher through them. 

It were a tiresome and thankless task to 
pursue the illustration of theae Buripidean 
characteristics through the whole eighteen 
plays. A great denT has been already done 
by Schlegel; luid he who wishes to see the 
naalomy carried more into detail, and with 
a more masterly hand, may consult Herr 
Oruppe. A few remarks, however, on this 
head, we may be allowed in our own per- 
son ; only lest we should seem Io delight in 
rague declamation and groundless calumny. 
To point out fanlts is always unedifying, es- 
pecially where they lie as thick as beauties ; 
and the task does not even compensate to the 
. understanding l^ adding to its acuteness 
what it lakes from the heart by hungering 
its charity. Nevertheless, if people will 
worship idols, truth demands that we pub- 
licly call them idols, and no gods. The 
Greeks themselves, should they rise from 
the dead, would be astonished and ashamed 
to behold with what foolish admiration sen- 
sible British men have paid blind homage to 
the flimsy productions of their third-rate 
drantatists. A blunder is not the less a 
blonder because it is two thousand years 
old ; and is so much the more dangerous be- 
cause there exists in this free country a cer- 
tain unwise conservatism io literary matters 
which upholds ancient wisdom, not because 
it is wisdom, but because it is ancient ; and 
which stamps a value upon Greek poetry, 
not because it is poetry, but because it is 
Greek. Why should Euripides, when he 
drivels prettily or glitters meretriciously, find 
more favour than Bulwer when he does the 
same! Why should a bad play which Per- 
son edited be read and expounded in all the 
schools, and a good play which Sheridan 
Knowlea wrote be known to our studious 
yonkera hardly by name 1 To anawer these 
questions would lead us a long excursion 
into the philosophy of education, and spe- 
cially iniQ ihat domain ruriously called 
classical ; but we must proceed in our in- 

We have already auggeated « compariaon 

between the Prometheoa Bound and the He- 
cuba. Let us pass from the prologue to the 
catastrophe of this latter play, and discover 
another striking characteristic of Euripidean 
art. The end of tragedy, according to Aris. 
lotle's welUknown philosophy, is lo move 
pity or terror ; the Prometheus, however, pro- 
duces neither the one nor the other, but only 
calm admiration ; and the Hecubs, clumsily 
endeavouring to produce both, produces nei- 
ther the one nor the other, but simple dis. 
gust. The woes of Hecuba move pjty, and 
in moving pity lies the strength of Euripides : 
the first part of the drama, accordingly, 
(bating always the fooliah prologue) contain- 
ing the wail of Hecuba over her own proa< 
tralion as a queen, and bereavement as a 
mother, is good ; but the poet straightway 
proceeds to convert the unfbrtunate queen 
mto a savage, blood-lhinrty barbarian ; she 
murders the two sons of her eod's murderer, 
and puis out the father's eyes, and exults 
and rejoices in Ihe deed; thus the second 
part of the drama works deliberately agoinat 
the first ; and the unskilful dramatist freezea 
the tears which he has himself educed. Far 
otherwise in the Protnetheua. The admire. 
tion which the silent obduracy of the patient 
god had excited io the first scene, not only 
remains unimpaired, but is strengthened as 
the action (if it may be called action) pro. 
ceeds; and continues increasing, not with 
the hurry.ekurry of a modem overture, but 
with the steady march of moral resolve, to 
the culminating point of the catastrophe. 

In the Greek drama, where the materials 
worked on were so few, it was above all 
things necessary that they sboukl be con- 
gruous. .£schylus is a master here, and so 
is Sophocles. What true poet, indeed, ever 
bundles the parts of a real poem together, or 
mechanically dovetaila them 1 That is the 
work of a Pisi:itratu9, or other ji«ntirriK, 
collecting and arranging any cycle of old 
ballads ; but a true poem is like a true flow- 
er, where each individual petal heare a rela. 
tion lo its brother, and the whole corolla to 
the cup, and the cup and corolla to the 
leaves, and leaves, cup and corolla to the 
whole plant. So it is in the Philocteles, ao 
in the Antigone, so in the Choepbom,- ao 
also in Ihe Iphigenia in Aulia, the only tho- 
roughly good play among the whole Buripi- 
dean collection, which, however, as wa had 
occasion to remark above, is, in this and 
other respects, so unlike Euripides, Ihat se- 
rious doubts have been thrown upon its au- 
thentic ily. 

Look now ot the Orestes, the very next 
ploy in the common arrangement. This play 
is iniended lo dramatize the historical link 
between the Ghoephorv and the Eamenidea 

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MtrUt of Eur^ridu. ■ 

(d JBachylia. The motbsT has juat beea 
MCrificecl to the mancB of the father, and the 
citjr of ArgoB is ur^d 1^ Tyndareua to poas 
• Benteoce of death ttmiaal die murderer of 
the daughter of Leda. Menelaua, who in 
the Qreok drama always P^y^ die heartless 
■elf-interested politician, will not move a 
Step in the causa of his Argive nephew 
•gainst an Areira mob, and a Spartan 
&tber-in-l«w. The life of the son of Aga. 
meronoQ is in danger ; and the problem of 
the drama is how that life shall he saved. 
It is manifest, from the very statement of 
this case, that the first bujUDess of the dra- 
matizer here is to enlist our sympathies in 
fiivour of Orestes, He is a mother' 
derer certainly, and, in the eye of the public 
prosecutor of a modem court of justice, 
guil^ of a crime so monstrous, that no elo. 
quence can possibly win for it a tear ; hut 
in the sncieot Areive legend this crime is a 
•acred duty, urged by ihe real voice of filial 
reverence, and exprbssly commanded by 
the infollibie voice of a god. It is a duty, 
however, that brings the performer of it into 
fearful conflict with the most lender instincu 
of nature ; and in this struggle of com- 
manded duly and commanding instinct the 
dramatic character of the legend lies. The 
instinct of the spectator, like that of the doer, 
rebels against the deed. In spite trf this, 
however, the poet mast enlist our sympathies 
in favour of the murderer ; and he can only 
do so by representing him under the most 
amiable and engaging aspect : as a virluous 
man doomed 1^ divine decrees, or, like 
Werner, necessitated bv circumstances to 
the commission of ti deed against which his 
inmost nature rebels. The least admixture 
of savageness or barbarity in his cbancter 
will cause the mind to leap back into 
natural abhorrence of his crime. So in 
Clwepbors and the Eumenides there 
nothing to destroy the natural sympathy 
which a pious Greek was naturally disposed 
to feel for the sorrows of a son commissioned 
by an oracle to murder his fitther's murder- 
er. But the Orestes of Euripides, after a 
beautiful pietorial opening, goea on from bad 
to worse, from selfishness to savageness : 
every character is more base and more bru- 
tal than another. Orestes, Pylades, and 
Electra, tlie persona tnlA (not agahui) whom 
we ought to feel and suffer, employ them, 
selves, witbout shade or discrimination ever 
of villany, in devising and scheming the most 
public and barbarous butcheries ; a melo- 
dramatic death (amid burning palaces) of 
the principal parties on both sides is pre- 
pared. Helen, the wife, and Hermione, the 
daughter of Menelaus, are in the act of 
being publicly slaughtered, that Orestva and 


his friends may die amid the due environ. 
ment of tragic horrors, when suddenly- 
swift as the studied scene-shifting of our 
modem effect-pieces— the horrible iscbang- 
ed into the ridiculous. The Deut ex ma- 
cAtnd descends ; Helen is whipped up into 
heaven (like Faust in Gothe) by Apollo, 
that her beauty may no tnore be the cause 
of strife to men; and Orestes is married, 
ithoQt further ceremony, to that very Her. 
mione at whose innocent throat he is point, 
ing the barbarous dagger ! It is impossible, 
without reading the piece, to understand the 
curious feeling which this tasteless jumble of 
ancient tragedy and modern melo-drama 
and comedy produces on the mind. 

Schlegel is very severe on the Electra of 
our poet, which ends also, in modem fiubion, 
with a marriage : he thinks it the worst 
play of the eighteen. Among so many bad 
ttie choice is hard ; but in our opiaion the 
Orestes ntay well put in a claim for the dis- 
tinction of being one of the most di^usting 
nd silly plays ever written. We do not 
quarrel with the conclusion, because It is 
happy for all parties ; the Greok T'P<>r<i^'* is 
anything but a tragedy, in our sense of the 
■ord ; but we blame the want of poetic 
inity and the barrenness of dramatic sym- 
pathy which characterize the whole. And 
yet we are told that ih^ play enjoyed favour 
on the Athenian stage (" 4v "" m •»».« 
niti^nrmr). This pieco of information, 
iiowever, we cwa well afford to believe, 
ilhout throwing any particular imputation 
n the good taste of an Auic audience ; for 
besides the melo.dramatic trickery of the 
concluding spectacle, we have the choruses 
and the music, which, in (his play, must have 
had a peculiar charm. The Phrygian, with 
his Harmateion ntelody and barbarous roar 
(tfritniw fuXM dffftfv ^•f)i was, no doubt, 
something slriking and novel in Attieiu, and 
might easily have procured for an inferior 
piece, decked out with the orthodox number 
of villanies and murders, tlte praise of a fleet- 

piece a story historically together Is 
one thing, to organize it poedcnlly is another. 
Wherever we turn our eyes, to first-rate, or 
to second-rate dramas, we shall find (hat 
Euripides had no notion ofpoedcoi^niu- 
tion. In the " Andromache " the sorrows of 
the wife of Hector swallow up all interest 
during the first half of the play; in the se- 
cond hair the sorrows of Peleus begin, and 
we hear no more of (he original heroine. In 
ihe " Hercules Furens" there are many 
fine things, especially in the latter part ; but 
the same want of coherency in the dramatic 
sympathies is observable. Amphitryon, 
Megara, and the children occupy our atlen- 


Marita ^ EHnjptfM. 


tion «xcliMveiy in the first part ; Hercules 
eiolwtivfiiy u the aecaad part. Oae-ikird 
of the snoTt play ii e]d)aiHted before tbe 
hero appeara, and another third Bpine itaelf 
away before the miereet centiea in bira. The 
" Henclido," which represents the recep- 
lien of the sons of Herculee under Athenian 

grolection, is another instance of oomplete 
lihire from want of a principal figure, round 
which tbe interest of the drama may con- 
centrate itaelf lolaus, the heroic old sol- 
dier, end Macarla, the heroic girl, are the 
only characters of any prominence in (he 
piece ; but the rhetorician, alter balaocing 
them neatly on his little finger as long, and 
as long only, as the laitprie progress of the 
action requires, lets them dn^ straightway, 
without ceremony ; and the piece is closed 
by the introduction of new character, Eurys- 
tbeus, king of Athens, in whom we can feel 
no interest, and who neither says nor does 
anything that in any way tends to bind to. 
gather the loose fragments of the piece. It 
a said by aome that Euripides ' 

but wherein the poet has clumsily en(lea< 
Tdured to tag both tbe Antigone and tba 
(Edipus Coloneus to the end. But, as 
Oruppe well observes, if Antigone leaTC* 
Thebes with (Edipus for the Equestrian 
Hill, what becomes (rf* Polynices aiid Hm- 
mon 1 Tbe Phteaisea, however, with all 
its laboured balk, will ill stand oomparisoB 
widi the slm[de and consistent grandeur of 
the Savent The prologue, spoken by Jo- 
casta, may, as usnal, be cut off with mueh 
advanlage to the play. The chorus, c<n- 
trary to a well-known rule of Aristotle, does 
not, as in the jGscbytean drama, enter with 
stirring draomiic inlerast and striking dra- 
matic eSeCt into the action of the play, but 
sways loosely and carelesalyabout it. Then, 
again, the self>sacri(ice of Menmceus is not 
only, as Grnppe observes, an altogether 
voluntary and episodical act of heroism, 
but, by bringing Creon in as a sufierer, acts 
comrary to 5it main symgathies of the play. 
Like Osric in Hamlet, Creon stands oy in 
the Labdacidan story, and cries " A hit I a 

periorto ^schylus in the management of hit !" himself unscathed. Hcmon, to be 
nis plots. The Heraclids compared with'sure, dies in the Antigone, but that is for the 
ippliants will disprove this. jGschy- ' sake ol Antigone. The death of MencBceus, 

lus never undertakes what he cannot man> 
age : his plot is simple, but it is consistent ; 
it is one : his characters are few, but he is 
never without one or a body of persons (as 
Prometheus and the Danaides) who com. 
mand prominently the altentioii of the spec- 
tator. Euripides, on the other band, multi- 
plies the persons . in the aciion only to con- 
found the action itself; he makes a complex 
plot, in appearance, by ravelllag two or 
three plots together, instead of unravelling 
one ; ne not only does not manage, but he 
does not attempt to manage, the speaking 
puppets of his show. His care is that his 
characters shall make long speeches, and 
say flne things. Having done that, they 
dismiss themselves as they introduced (hem- 
selves, with a -wise text in their own praise. 
It is not even necessafy that they should 
be consistent with themselves, provkled 
they be consistent with their spracbes ; to 
be consistent with the drama b impossible, 
when, an in the Andromache, it is made up 
of two parts that mutually neutralize each 

It is a common device of Euripides to en- 
dflsvour to eclipse his predecessors by piling 
up a huge architecture of events (where 
balk at least awes,) and stringkig together 
in one play several distinct actions, of which 
.£schylus and Sophocles would have made 
as many distinct plays. This has been ably 
shown by Gruppe, tn reference to the " Phffi- 
nissB9," a play whose action properly is the 
same as jEschylus' Seven sgwosl Thebes, 

the PhiBnissee, is altc^ther uncalled ibr; 
altogether uninteresting, because altogether 
unprepared ; altogether undramatic, because 
the stroke of fate should strike only the 
fated. Further we may notice bow cun- 
ningly £schylus has varied his long narra- 
tion, by interspersing short choral chants, 
as well as by ibe intrinsic peculiarity of his 
speech, Euripides has given us ZSO lines 
of description, only once interrupted — all 
the Thetoriciao, as ususl, and nothing of tbe 
dramatist. How clumsily, also, is the cha- 
racter of Eteocles managed ! The fanMUi 
sentiment, — 

of which Julius Csssr was so fond, is the 
explanation of the philosopher as to the ty- 
rant's real motives, not the motive which 
any tyrant would confess to himself, much 
less trumpet to tbe world in a formal plead- 
ing of his own cause. So plump and un- 
skilful is the rhetorician in the management 
of human character ! So also Medea lella 

What unnatural rant is this ! But Euri- 



MtriU qfSurijndf, 

E'idM b Aill of it. Hia churacUn nuJce oa 
Ule oouciMMie of publiabiDg tbeir ahamo 
Be of oraiorizing their own praisca : the rea- 
aon, in bolh caaea, is manifestly the aame, 
aa we have already had occasion to observe. 
It is not the person speaking, but the poet. 

The Medea ia generally coondeiea one 
of ibe beet plays of Euripides ; but we must 
confess, a^er several perusals, we have not 
been able to force ourselves into admiraiion 
of it. In the character of Medea, as in 
Earipides' women generally, we see not 
only that certain aroouat of bloody propen- 
aities which is necessary for tragic pur- 
poses, but a gratuitous and unmotived bar- 
tertty. Let any person quietly compare 
her with Lady Macbeth, and aee what he 
ean make of her. Schlegel very properly 
asks, why does she butcher her children a! 
all 1 — and if so utterly without need it is 
consietent in a Colchian sorceress lo show 
berself so magntficenlly savage, how 
consistent that she should at the aame time 
be BO de^ly moved by the lender, motherly 
emotions of her sex, bo unable to look upon 
that «r»raw T<)u"fia — !*>« " '"^ smile," 
which she herself so unnecessarily had made 
the last ? Does Lady Macbeth in Shak- 
apeare relcitt, except in the sleep-walking 
. acane 1 We must confess we cannot uoder- 
■tond this matter ; and aa to other tbinga, 
the play is decked out in all places with the 
usual number of adventitious patches and 
fUse ornaments, which may be taken from 
Euripides' plays, not only without organic 
injury, but with material advantage. What, 
for instance, iathe use of the interview with 
.£geus 1 This is another epiaode, in the 
style of Meneceua in the Pbmniaste. It 
does not belong to the organism of this dra- 
ma lo know whether Medea goes to Athens 
or Argos. " Hither to ma !" aa Mephisto- 
phalea aaya to Faust, and the rest may be 
safely, most wisely, lell to the imagination of 
the spectator. Or, if we take Scblegel's 
apology, that this scene was introduced to 
gratify the Athenians, tbie will not mend 
the matter a whit. £schylus in the Eume- 
nides, and Sophocles in the (Edipua Coio- 
neus, wrote with one view at least, to Batter 
the Alheniana ; but iheir patriotism was in. 
tarwoven with their pint, — here it is stuck 
on it. 

We hope the reader will now give us 
credit for having some plausible grounds for 
the unlsTOurable opinion we have been 
obliged to express of Euripides' powers as 
a dramatist. We shall offer a specimen of 
Herr Qruppe's critical ability, and then pro- 
ceed to more pleasant contemplations. Ha 
has analyzed . at length seven playaofEu- 
riptdee:— the Hecuba, the Trojans, the 


Bacchw, the Hi{^lytua, the Ipbigenia in 
Tauria, the Ion. Wo shall take hia re. 
marks on Ion. The subject, as Poltercoa- 
fc!sses, ia a fine one. Serjeant Taifourd 
has made something of a kindred theme in 
modern times. What Euripides made of 
the old story we shall see. 

Gruppe gives the narrative of the play 
down to the chorus of the Athenian virgins, 
and proceeds, 

" Tbeir curiosity leads them to press fur- 
ther into the temple ; but here :lan com- 
mands them back. Then Creusa herself 
appears ; a long ityoliOBtytKie* begins : mo- 
ther and son stand against each other with- 
out knowing or BUBpecting their relationship: 
and Euripides applies himself diligently to 
make this situation as piquant as ne possi- 
bly can." 

Of the scene between Creusa and Ion, ha 

Then at the conclusion of this long ar- 
tificial coDversatlon, Creusa has to request 
Ion expressly to say nothing of the matter 
of her friend's exposed child to Xuthus, for 
the men are always disposed without motive 
lo think evil enough of the women." 

Then follows a aoene wbich ia certainly 
dramatic, and in manv respeota may be 

Of the scene with Xuthua — 

" The poet (for he it is that speaks all the 
while, not Ion) falls Immediately back on 
the mother ; she mnat be mentioned promi- 
nently now, because she is to be made par- 
ticularly ^(»ninent in the after pan of the 
drama. There is no joy, no surrender of 
the soul to the natural influence of such a 
situation; the whole scene wants nature, 
tenderness, and warmth. Sopkocles woula 
have managed it otherwise. 

" The same want of nature ia exhibited In 
the scene where Xuihns explains to his son 
that he must now follow bim to Athena, there 
to be heir of his riches and hta kingdom." 

After blaming the grounds of loo's apprs- 
liensions, Gruppe proceeds, 

"In all this it is manifest the poet apeaka. 

* A eoDvenatioii nuried on line by lina, tiks k 
church- CRtechizing, u Oruppa nji in aBother 
pUcB — or moie eiBCtly like t gaino &t battle-door 
tnd Bhnttleeock when well pUyed. All 'the 
tngediana de1ig;ht in thii aiiifieial raeamred moda 
afcondne^Dg dialai^ei. When there ii pith mjid 
point in aach line (u Sh>kipeire Kimatlmra man- 
ana It,) the eSbct ii pleuaat enoagh. But Eori- 
pldM, the iiDooth rhetorician, ii not the in»D fbi 
ineh deiloate mktteia ; ind fail tlyekmwtliitt m« 
more weak, tedioM, and wire-drawn 

Aan even 

Digitized byGoOgIC 

MtrHs tjf Emrip4d«t. 


not the persons: be lays out tfae plans, he 
keeps a cenain aim id his eye, he is con- 
tinually mantBuvring every iDing with the 
most open and unconcealed nrtifice towards 
that aiai ; but actual acting chamciera nre 
not before us. Why the poet makes Ion 
speak as he speaks is but too obvious ; his 
scheme is that the thing shall actually turn 
out so, as Ion is made to fear; he intends 
to represent Creusa as jealous, he intends 
that stie shall attempt to poison her own son. 
and finally he intends to make it out, in Ion's 
verr words, that Ion is no stranger, no bus- 
lardi no son of Xutbux, but the genuine son 
of an Athenian, son of Apollo and Creusa. 
He makes Ion's speech full of unconscious 
allusions to the actual slate of the esse ; but 
vfaat is gained by all these allusions? Ei- 
ther we do not yet know what the noet is 
driving St, — and in this case the allusions 
will seem as impertinent as they are forced 
and unnatural: or we do know his drift (as 
here but too obviously), and then we can 
scarcely be called upon to forgive the un- 
ceremonious nonchalance with which he 
thnuts his plot into his characters,— asking 
no questions of nature and consistoncyi — 
insteadof drawing it out of them. That in- 
ternal, symmetncal structure, and that rich- 
ness ofinlemal relation of the parts, which 
we admire in Sophocles, ceases to be art, 
and to' manifest the charm of art, so soon as 
it does not take place as It were instinctive- 
ly, while the characters act only from their 
own free individuality! and the inward ne- 
cessity of their nature. Here £uripides ex- 
hibits the very reverse of all this. Ion is any 
thing but a young man joyfiilly surprised 
to find his father, and in him to find himself 
the heir of a mighty kingdom: Ion Is a mere 
spiritless hearer of sbort-sif^ted, frosty, al- 
together formal, artlstical tricks.* 

" But ibia is not enough : tlie thing b twice 
done i not the less formally and circumslan- 
tially by outward macbinery, l>ecause Ion 
has already rhetorized ttte whole rant. A 
tragedy consists in the tying and untying of 
a knot; it is always best when unexpected 
joy comes after deep diiastert recognition 
aRer miannderstanding ; my plan, therefore, 
thinks Bnripides. is to set the people first 
savagely by the ears together, and then 
make them shake bands, and smile as com- 
fortably as tbe converted villains in the 
last set ol a modern comedy. If this were 
enough to make a work of art, we should 
feel ourselves obliged to give Euripides this 

* To uljmite ttie fail value of (heae remirka Did 
sladant will cumpiis their preciiion and tratb with 
tha TSgue. Ikodalory genaralitiei in Potter's inlro- 
duelion to hia traailation or thia pl>;. Poller wu 
tlia child of an \ge whole watchword wai datri. 
cdlily, — a thing aa appoaed to nature and rreedant, 
as a dnwing-rooiD ia to hill and railej. The 
French ware our masten in Ihoae da;i — (ai indeed 
our critioiim Hema falod to be the iJare of foreign 
iupobe) ; and the Frsnob paid aa decant a iiomsge 
to tfaa outer aurfaee at Oresk lilwattm, aa they 
weta impudent and oonoeited rebela againit its in- 
ner apiril. 

further praise, that he always brina it about 
in the snortest and most convenient way. 
Ion is the son of Cretisa, not of Xuthus, but 
he holds him for his, not she for hers ; this, 
however, is not enough to produce a proper 
tragic effect ; and she must tra made at least 
to attempt the life of her own son. But for 
what reason mnalure? How comes it to 
pass that she concelvesso violent a hatred for 
the amiable stran^r youth? Does she halo 
him because be u her husband's son — thtt 
husband whom she loves I Does she hate 
because be was born out of wedlock? On 
tills view of the question her own speeches 
in the previous part of the play gave us no 
reason to suspect such wrath ; but besides 
there is ihe authority of tbe orsde which aha 
came to consult,and which she also believefti 
N~o ! no t says Euripides, I am not much 
concerned that Creusa shall have any natu- 
ral, sufficient motives for planning this 
bloody murder, but I shall at least make 
sure, that no one shall be able to la^ his 
hand on the passage and say, here la an 
action done without a visible motive. I 
liave nothing to do but bring in a nurse or a 
pedagoffue,who shall advise the deed, andshe 
shall follow the persuasion. Tbe pedagogue 
is one of those characters brought in adven- 
titiously an all occasiona by our poet — his 
ready helpers out of all difficulties— that 
seem to enrich the plot by multiplying the 
persons, but in fact only show the tiarren- 
neasof the poet in not Iming able to bring 
Ihe oatastrophe out of the characters that 
natursllj^ belong to the action. They are 
a personification of dramatic awkwardness. 
This pedagogue, in the tiands of a true tra- 
gedian, would at least have acted from some. 
strong internal motives of bis own, and per- 
haps shown some heroism in the executioa 
of his villany. But Euripides never con- 
cerns himself whether his plots are develop- 
ed by persons who act from natural motlvesi 
or by persons in whose motives you feel any 
interest. The pedagogue accordingly, afler 
performing the part required of him, leaves 
Creusa in the lurch, and drops out of the 
piece. How different Dejanira in the Tra- 
chinin! She acts ftom inward motives, 
and the strong power of the most natural 
illusion. Here, however, Ion must remain 
alive, and Apollo acquire public reverence 
as the great ancestor of the Ionian race. 
How tbis could be brought about by natural 
and at the same lime poetical motives was 
a question that Euripides, if he ever asked, 
certainly was not in a condition to answer. 

" We now make acquaintance with Creusa 
aa a murderess ; and nevertheless the port 
attempts to win us with pathetic rhetoric in 
her favour. She speaks very -beautiful 
words to Apollo, and accuses him of ingrati- 
tude to his own child and its mother — the 
ingratitude of a god towards a mortal. This 
scene might have had a fine effect, had Eu- 
ripides power to put it in a proper place j 
but liere it is utterly lost. Her own shame- 
less barbarity has closed our fountain of 
tears; such a woman was in all likelihood 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Mf^ of SuripidM. 


worthlefs from ttii teglDniiig, and Apollc 
ma^ bare treated her aaty accordiog to her 
deaertB., We caoDOt force our Bympathiea." 

As to the foUowing sceoe with the peda- 

"The flr«t matter is evideatiy disciisaed 
here a second time, in order to engaee our 
aymrtttlhy fbr Creusa ; but the InteuiTon, as 
usual, is too niaiiifMt ; and the cool, detibe- 
raie barbarity of the whole muter, as jost 
mentionod, repels cur sympathy . Sophocles 
Interests us in the [nisfortunes of bis heroes : 
Euripides disgusts us by their crimes. The 
turn, moreover, which he gives the matter, 
by making Creuia boast of revengine her- 
self at one blow, both on Apollo and Ion, 
only makes the matter worse— impiety Is 
kere Joined to barbaritjr; and yel 11.I8 ex- 
pected that we shall leel interested in the fate 
of a creature whom the poet has done every 
thing in his power to make hateful. 

Finally, it is observed, ' 

deserves the praise which has here and thei 
been lavished on it, in no manner of way. 
There is no other drama which exposes so 
completely the wretched secrets of Euripl- 
dean slage machinery, none which exhlhiis 
more strikingly the coiurast between £uri- 
pidea and Sophoelea. We have here a piece 
with illusioas and misuaderstaodings enough, 
Ticb in thoae dramatic situations which So- 
phocles knows lo wisely to handle. How 
otherwise Euripides !— For the pure poetry 
of the classic traeediau we have here the 
pointed, barren, tUnly-veiled sophistry ol 

living character, much less one in whom the 
poet nas made the spectator feel any thing 
like a living interest. What Aristotle says 
ofthe Antigone falsely, suits here admira- 
bly ; the disgusting, not the tragical, is pro- 
duced i and over and above this, the piece 
must end happily too ! Wlien Sophocles 
ends his piece happily, he takes care to 
make his characters perfectly worthy of ihe 
nnpared salvation ; they bear their sorrows 
iQ the first place, and are purified by aufier- 
iug ; the whole piece must have served to 
develope worth and dignity of clmracter, be- 
fore a god is introduced to unloose the ines- 
pIlDBblo knot of mischance. Enripides, on 
the other hand, rereals here nothing but 
wlckediHsa, shame, noa and aiiapician ; a 
blood-thirsty woman, who swears revenge 
even against the penoo ofthe god— and then, 
tatu ceremomt, R reconciliation and happy 
catastrophe, by means of Ihla same god! 
So faulty is the internal organization oilon. 
And even externally the piece wants artlsti- 
oal rounding and oomplMeness. Xuthus 
(Hka BO nany other etiaractora in Bsripidoi' 

plays— TV.) loseshijaaBolf outoftbeidot,ftBd 
we hear uo more of him. As lUtle ia any 
light thrown on his alleged son, the offspring 
ofa Bacchic woman. This matter should 
have been explained. Here the poet might 
have found an atu^agm to Creusa's lapse ; 
reconciliation of man and wife on the foot- 
ing of mutual forgiveness might have Ukeo 

forded, besides being altogether irrecoociie- 
able with the happy event of the piece) might 

have been altogether dispensed with 

In the mouth of Xuthus also should have 
been placed all those doubts and anxieliea m 
to whether the Athenians would submit 
themselves to Ihe away ofa foreign prince. 
There they would have been nalaral, and 
might have served tu increase the sympathy 
of the spectator for the principal party. loa 
himself instead of preaching political phi- 
losophy, shoulJ have surreoderod his soul 
10 unsuspecting joy." 

In the ooQrse of the precodiog observa- 
tions,. we have attained to onl? one result, 
and that eltogeiher ofa negative kind, vis. 
Euripides is not n diamaiisl. In this there 
is small consoislioQ. But we have now to 
ask ourselves a qoeatioo, in whieh, wa hope, 
we have been anticifiated by most of otir 
readers, and the solution of which may pro- 
bably bring forth some positive fruit. If 
Euripides be indeed thd helpless dramatic 
blunderer that we repreeeiil, how comes it 
to pass itwt be aUained in ancient limes such 
a high rank as post far the Athenian sUgOf 
and how comes it lo pass also that in mo- 
dern times bis poetry has been so popniar 
with most of our great men, titst even Mil. 
ton the mighty -iwiided Icnew oe more femi- 
liar bosora-friead in the wide world of 
books ? The aecond of theae questional is 
more shortly answered than thefint. Euripi- 
dee is a pleasant, fluent, pMbetic, phdooophtc, 
luxuriaot, rhetorical poet enough— ^nd our 
Greek men, living as they have ico efUn 
done in the back galleries of literary life 
(where a man may nod witbont observation) 
and nibbling at Greek instead of feeding 
upon poetry, asked for nothing more. Mil- 
ton, again, was an architectural poet, and a 
it em n- building Epopmist, but of a genius 
senlially undramalic; ilio beauiifui pic- 
tures, the magnificent desoriplions, and the 
rich choral fealoonisg of the Greek drsmt, 
were exactly suited lo his taste. Why he 
should have prefbrnd -the efieiainale Euii- 
pides to the strong, manty ^sdiylea, is dlf- 
fi'uh to explain. Perhaps the notorious 
diflicully aod coriuptioo of jGsckyleao 
Greek deterred bim ifom the study; p^r-, 
I also (what seems mure probabl*} «s 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Jir«rtto 0/ fiwnpMw 


liltinga, like dreams, an wont to g;o by con- 

Irarioa, Milton sdmired Euripides for the 
Mme reason (hat Wilson worships Words- 
worlh — by the law ofoppoBilion — " ungleick 
dem gleickem foaret tick gem," BttsideB 
we must never forget thai Millon lived in 
times when vtliat would now be blamed aa a 
foolish and narrow reverence of classicality, 
justly claimed the charactt^r of a noble and 
^nerouB enthusiasm. In the infancy of a 
creed, the fervaur of new-kindled devotion 
animates many Buperstitions, which in after 
times congeal into harsh jagged slogs, with 
which a hard and obsiinate bigotry vexes the 
riba of men. Irsneus may believe many 
things with propriety, which Dr. Chalmers 
muy with propriety deride. So Dante and 
Petrarch may know nothing in the world of 
highest inlellect but Virgil and Plato. 
Milton may know no drama superior to 
ancieat, and out of that pious prejudice, ' 
mus, and Samaon, and other the Mka slifii 
formal, modern antiques may come forth 
bnt if Serjeant Talfourd, or Sheridar 
Knowles, or Bulwer, were to impose such 
Helleaiiiog dramas upon the public tasM, 
they would meet with universal ridicule. 
Of this, however, enough. 

Our other question ia of more importai 
Whence did Euripides win for himself those 
dramatic laurels with which he unquestion. 
ably stood crowned before the Athenian peo- 
ple T — not indeed so proudly as some peO' 
Ele imagine — confessedly inferior to jSsohy. 
u and Sophociea — for he was only crown- 
ed five times* out of some seventy contests; 
and we know little of Agathon — but still a 
laraouB poet, and historically coming down 
to UB ai a membarof the great tragic triuir 
▼irate that gave dramatic laws to Greece i 
its noblest times. So far as Boripides pei 
sonall^ is concerned, the answer is of hlile 
or no mterest to ns; but it obviously implies 
the answer to a previous question, second to 
no literary question in importance, 
What sort of a thing the Greek tragedy 
wast If Euripides was do dramsiist, end 
nevertheless vied with such men as .£echy' 
lus and Bophocles in the dramatic contesis 
of Athens, he must have won his laurels hy 
some other than dramatic virtue. The 
Oreek drama must not be cii^fond eiten- 
(taUy ilrama,in oarsenseof the word. The 
limtM and flourishes nuiy move lot the most 
part accord log to dramatic laws, but the soul 
and plastic genn of the thing is not — can- 
Dot be — inherently and necessarily drama- 
tic What then isthe emential, in-dwelling, 


lUi perbspi faieliulas ths e 

formative principle of the Greek tragedy? 
The subject has been often discussed— the 
individual abstract notions pertaining to it 
stated not seldom with sufficient accuracy. 
But in their cumulative importance they 
have been rarely apprehended — more rare- 
ly still, with a wise and tborongfa conaisten- 
cy, practically applied. 

According to our notion the Greek trage- 
dy consists chiefly and essentially of these 
' ree things. 

I. A choral hyrantothegodSiWitbdance. 

II. A sacred spectacle representing the 
common and well known fates of heroic and 
divine persons hy n series of living tableaux, 
and illustrated by means of recitation spoken 
in character. 

III. The development of a religious idea. 

And » e say, that though these three ele- 
ments may, by the hsnd of a Sophocles, be 
so beautifully and skilfully combined as to 
form a complete work of art, most fitly de- 
sigoated a drama (though very difierent 
from what we are accustomed to call such) 
yet that this hesutilul and skilful combina- 
tion is by no means essential lo the idea and 
organic principle of s Greek tragedy ; so 
much so that a poet like Euripides may be 
ignorant of the vt;ry simplest laws of cha- 
racter and action, and shall be a great Greek 

It is generally said that the Greek choroa 
is a part of the drama; according lo our 
view, thedramais apartof thecborus. The 
chorus is the nucleus; and an imposing 
well ordered series of choral songs in refer, 
ence to one subject^ illustrated by a few reci. 
iatiooB spoken in character, does in foot 
constitute a Greek drama — as we see in the 
Choephorse, the Suppliants, and the Per- 
sians of .£schylus, Profei^sOr Jacobs long 
ago did not hesitate to designate this latter 
play a cantata, not a drama; and Professor 
Herrman, in some late speculations, has di- 
vided the Greek tragedies into two kinds — 
the tragedy proper (such as the (Edipus 
Tyiannus and the Agamemnon), and the 
'* quasi lyrieum et eantaiile gentu tTOgadia,"* 
of which the Troadcs of Euripides furoisbea 
an example. Now in staling what the soul 
and essence of Greek tragedy is, we lake 
this " Ij/riaim et caniabUe genu*" as the ori- 
ginal type and proper emblem of what ne- 
cessarily belongs to the idea of a Greek tra- 
gedy geaerally. This is intrinsic; tbeother, 
or dramatic element, matter of adomntent, 
matter of variation, matter, if you will, of a 
higher development, but not intrinsic and 
essential in thegerm of the thing. Witliout 
B chorus a Greek tragedy cannot be ; wilh- 

■ Oputc. vaU ii. p. 319, Ds Tstnlogik Icnfa. 


Mtriir ofEurifiUu. 


out adioii, widioat Dbamcter — with mneh 
pomp of apeBtacle, witb ranch nvishroentof 
the eari wiih ihtle or no nature — it can be. 
This point of view alone explains the thou. 
•and blunderB and puerilities of Euripidea: 
alone makes it intelligible how a tender and 
luxuriant lyriat, a amooth rhelorician, a Qa- 
eut pleader, has had the happy chance to 
eome down to posterity orotrned with the 
undeserved laurels of a dramatist Hazlitt 
■aid [hat the Prometheus of .£ichylua was 
more of an ode than a dnma. We think 
he was moat unhappy in his example ; but 
there was a glimmering of truth in his idea. 
The Persians is certainly much more of a 
solemn notional wail than a drama; the 
Sappliants ii a dramatized supplication \ the 
Hecnba and the Troadesi each a dramatized 
wail ; the Seven against Thebes is a sacred 
spectacle, '* full of war" — partly and mainly 
lyric, cousisling of fears and proyers before, 
and laments after the battle; partly epic, 
consisting of the narrative description of the 
chief heroes of the invadii^ host. Of action 
there is very little; of drama in oor sense, 
' — impersonated acting charactero treading 
now timidly, now violently rushing through 
the uncertain patha o( ctHnplicated events — 
still leaa. But take even the Agamemnoo, 
what were the Agamemnon without the 
efaoniR, without the musical omcebean chants 
between Cassandra and the chorus 1 little 
more, we fear, than a series of suUime, cer- 
tainly, bitt stiff and formal recitations. Is 
then fschylus no better than Buripidai 1 
do we not contradict ourselves herei Ap- 
parently only. In our previous observa- 
tions, we compared one Greek dramatist 
with another, and found that, tabinv the 
dramatic capabilities of tfas Greek drama 
(however small) as they are, Euripides had 
00 notion whatever not only of drama, but 
not even of poetical unity and harmony in 
composition. We now set the ancient dra. 
ma against the modern drama generally ; 
and we maialain, that in none of the Greek 
dramas, not even the best, was aHitm a prin- 
cipal, or even a necessary thing. There 
may he more progressive movement, more 
comidicolion of event, in oue of these sacred 
mastcal spectacles than in another. The 
<Edipus TyrannuB may suit our ideaa of a 
regular tragedy much better than the Tro- 
odes, or the Persians; it may also be that 
Sophocles in the Pbiloctelea shows a more 
nice and delicate discrimination of Aimmm 
character than Euripides in any of hts plays 
(always excepting tQe Iphigenia), but net' 
ther progressive movement iti times, nor cu- 
rious corodexily of event, nor nice discrimi- 
nation of AiMMH character, was an essential 
ingredient of tbe sacnd musical specude of 

the ancient Qreek»— the fyti^, or gaal- 
Bong, which we tranalato tragedy, and by 
that single word translate ourselves from 
Atbeosinto i#ondon, from .^^hylus to Shak- 
speare, and into a whole chaotic world of 
confused and confbundiDg criticism. Mnsio, 

!;ods, religious feeling, Tiving tablsaux, so> 
emn declamatbn, belonged essentiaUy to 
Greek tragedy. Every thing else might be 
dispensed with. 

Of all the elements, however, the charas, 
BS it was the historical origin, so also it ie> 
mained, to the last, the centre and nucleos 
of the whole exhibition. Bven in the Euri- 
pidean plays tbe choruses are generally the 
most splendid and poetical parts to read ; but 
the Athenians heard and *a» what we read ; 
and this is a matter to which very wise cri- 
tics have seldom paid safficient attention. It 
is indeed an element which must he made to 
enter much more largely into our criticism 
of Greek poetry generally than has hitherto 
been the case : — no poet, in the blooming 
days of Greece, courts to be read. Put 
Pindar against Wordsworth, and carry out 
this remark for private edificBtiou. But as 
lo the tragedy, how much the long lived in 
the associations of the ancient people, as the 
principal idea in the word, is attested to the 
present day, by the fact that -rrtyvttt jg the 
Romaic for a song generally. To the poo. 
pie, doubtless, the thorns always waa, and 
continued to be, the literal centre and nucle- 
us of tragic interest. Euripides, in his loose 
foshion, might indeed in many cases seem to 
embosom the sacred action in music, rather 
than inspire it by music But the rosy 
cloud-car of tbe fairy might be a more love- 
ly thing to took on than the fairy herself; 
and £acbyliii at least look care that the 
chorus should not only outwardly by public 
sympathy, but inwardly by artistical devel- 
opment, command tbe chief share of public 
attention. In the Seven, the Choepbora, 
the Suppliants, the Eumenides, the chorus 
(arms the very musale and bone of the com- 
position. Bo also in the (Edipus ColoneOs 
of Sophocles; there tbe action is little; spun 
out, in our opinion, somewhat unnecessarily 
by the colloquy witb Polyoices ; but, as it it, 
take away the nightingale notes of the eques- 
trian groves, and you take away the soult 
tbe inspiration, tbe Uving patriotism and 
religion of the piece. 

We do not flatter ourselves to have said 
any thing new, when saying that tbe cborui 
is a great distinguishing characteristic of the 
ancient Greek drama, which has ol^en been 
misunderstood by tho moderns, and some- 
times, but always unsuccessfally, attempted 
to be revived. We only wish to brin^ the 
matter into mote decided and unquestioned 

Digitized byCoOt^Ie 


Miriia tf Bwifidm 


nomiiMiKw ; and to eBtnat the Graek 9ta- 
dmt OB all occaaioD* to bear h in miad, and 
not allow faimaelf to be coufbanded by the 
ihoimad cneaningleaB criiiciaiBt vhieh peit 
01 ailly people will make on that braach of 
onoioDt Uterature, apttrt from thia habitual 
rodder, a« we nuy aay, of judgment. Potter 
ma M> puzzled with the beautihil Mywin 
wail that winda up the aad laroeating or the 
Penkna (in all respects without doubt one 
of the moat curioua dramatic remaiaa of an- 
tiquiiy) that he pieced the dtful reBponMS of 
■orrow into a magnificent bigh-aoundtng 
■peteh (after the manner of English trans- 
latora) ; and Bishop Blomfield, in more re- 
cent tJmea, baa also shown ao much igao- 
ranoe of the musical principJes ofcriticiam 
by which ihe Greek tragedy must be judged, 
that he fell plump into the old pond of Siche- 
jia, and declared the Peraiana to be, if nol 
altogether, at leeat half a comedy — per- 
chance a iaroe. Did the bishop ever bear 
lbs Litany chanted' in onEngliDbcathedraM 
or, that most simple and most lieautifut nf 
musical and religious things, the Litany of 
the Saints in a Roman CtUholic chapetl 
These Litanies are eiactly such a thing as 
the anueboaa chant in the Persians, the wail 
or "WM in the Saren, and many the like 
passagea in our present textbooks of ancient 
Opera ; for such and nothing more ant the 
Taluabia remains of antiquity, by the editing 
of which our Porsons and Elmsleys, our 
Moncks and Burgeues, have acquired such 
an adventitious ^d artificial certainly, but 
not tberefore (aa flaah wits imagine) aho> 
gather undeserved and unlaudaDle immor. 
lolity. A Greek tragedy was a sacred 
opera: very different from a modem opera 
indeed in several respects, as Schlegel has 
well cautioned, but still an opera ; and an 
opera in which dance or &ai/et occupied a no 
loss important position than song. It is 
Toin, therefore, for any scholar to attempt 
tmderstaodiag these old text-books by Greek 
wordaand glossaries alone. A living sym. 
patby with danae and song must be brought 
to the work ; and with that, even what Per- 
son deapaired of, an organic recotist ruction 
of the choral chants may possibly yet be ef- 
fected. The Germans have done much in 
this line already; let us, if we are men, 
^rd up our kiins and do mure. 

But the difieronce roust be well marked. 
Between Hetastasio and jGichylus there is 
a gulf of 3000 years ; and all the leap, 
moreover, that intervenes between a soldier 
who fought at Salnmis, and a courtier who 
served at Vienna. We are not, how. 
ever, concerned here to consider the diSer- 
ence in quality l>etwecn the piping of an 
Italian ounucb and the roar (Stt^ufS^) of a 

Grodi soldier. What touehea oa ia to ob- 
aerre that while the modem opera ia, atricL- 
ly speaking, a musical drama, i. e. anoction 
repi«senled by singing characters, the Greek 
goat-song, as its etymology seta forth, may 
be more properly dsscribed as a dramatizing 
hymn, mainly aad essentially a song sung n 
character, and ilhislratad by appropriata 
recitations; a Pindaric Ode, to borrow a 
simile from chemistry, out of which some of 
the principal mythical f^res have been 
shaken loose and praoipitoted ; bat thay 
never acquire such a circulation and inde- 
pendency as to form of themselves a perfect 
and complete imitation of an action. They 
swim in the mosical element,' which origi. 
nally held them in solution, and ore nol ro- 
cognised as having acquired any separata 
tenure of etistance. A sea of song intn^ 
duces, accompanies, and finally swallows up 
their ephemeral movaments. Nor are these 
movemanis ever altogoUtar fjraa from a 
characteristic air of lyric sdamnity and a|ttB 
formality, the certain evidence that they 
are not the native and uafsttered chiUren of 
nature. They declaim rather than speak ] 
they describe actnn oAener than tbmr oeL 
In Metastasio the reverse ctf all this holds. 
Cut away those pretty little corollaries, or 
perhaps only blooming epitomes of the dia- ' 
It^ties called airs ; and a perfect and regu- 
lar drama still remains, constructed aocord- 
ing to all the principles of complex plot, ti»- 
teresting siloation, natural aad impassioned 
dialogue, which Aristotle and the ancient 
critics wished to make, and Shakspeare and 
the modem stage-poets have made, of theatric 
exhibitions. A modem masical drama is not 
the less perfectly a drama because it is musi- 
cal ; and the reason of this is, portly that it 
ia nol religious (of whk^ anon), and partly 
thcl it ia not mainly and essentially lyric 
and choral, as the Greek opera was. To 
the true nature of a aacred ode that calm 
and sustained dignity belongs, more con. 
templetive than impassioned, which we 
tmc« alike in the Odes of Pindar and in 
the choruses of £*chylus. These choruses 
are calm Pindaric odes essentially, dra* 
ic ontbrenkingB of paasioif incidentally. 
Tf>e Fishermen in Hosanietlo are not more 
essentially dramatic than the supplicating 
Vii^ins in the first choras of the Seven, nr 
Ihe Chase of Paries in the opening scenes 
of the Eumenides, when "the scent of hu- 
man blood laughs in their nostrils" (•>)■* Sf^ 

■nta, alftrat laiTpixrYiia). But N IS the caloi 

dignity of religio-philosophical eonlempla. 
that stamps the msin character on the 
jE-ichylean chortis particularly, aa on the 
tragic cliorus generally. Music, indeed, of 
tho highest kind (as we see in the German 


AftPito i^Ewrifidt. 

1840. ' 

iBuaie) bw BoaMtkiDg nlemn and coMem- 
plative in its very nature : it ia & 
nnlilcBl; thing that the early aingera eren of 
Dionyaiac choruaea piactiaed the roimio 
erafl of De Begnia and Paltoni ; rather let 
ua think that the DionyaiaG odsa, in their 
earlieat state, though aubatantially drinking 
■onga, wera, like the Oennan Buraohen 
■oogB of the same nature, interpenetrated 
throughout with a deep and aotemn feeling 
of religion ;* at leaat the elemant of ludi- 
crona and aportive mimicry vaa early sepa- 
raiMl from the nobler part, and relegated 
into the region of comedy and fiirca 
(Satyrs) ; and one thing aeeina perfectly 
eeriein, that the fevered activity and dra- 
matic St. Vitua fits of onr modern stage, 
ungiog muat be kept far apart from all con- 
ceptiona of the ancient Dtonyaiac ode : the 
twitter end the chaiier, the splutter and the 
roar, the vaulting sad somerseting, the lliri- 
oua chase, the licantiaus intozicatiooi the 
•cream and the agony, nnd the convulsion 
of aweet Bounds, aa they are made a pahlie 
apectacle of by the Donizattis and Mer. 
eadantea of the modern opera, had, we may 
imagine, no counterpart in the sacred solen> 
oity of the heathen bymna. 

Second in importance scarcely to the 
musical is it to observe, and keep in view, 
the religious and sacred character of the 
Qraek tragedy. To the neglect of this 
plain and obvious principle (however gene- 
rally it may have been recognized in the 
abatiact) much ^ildish and Duedifying prate, 
nnder the name of criticism, aiay be traced. 
Wheoever the catasiropbe of a Greek drama 
b brought about by the intervention of a 
god, our profane modem critic, wilhout dis- 
crimination, immediately bawls out " Deiu 
tx ModUNd" (an echo from (he Epicurean 
Horace) ; and expounds with much self- 
salisAciion how much more cunningly he 
would have brou^tabout the dinouemtiU by 
means of the interworking of human mo- 
tives and the intertwining of human fates. 
And Oothet no doubt, in his Iphigenia, 
brings about the catastrophe nicely enough, 
wittraut the aid of Pallaa Athene ; but whe- 
ther Euripides would have done wisely to 
have wound up this sacred l^end without 
the solemn seal of a goddess (though, per- 
haps, the goddess should have been Arte- 
mis, and not Athene) set upon its authen- 
liciiy, is a different question. The Greek 
drama was not a drama of human motives, 
but a drama of divine dispensations. 

»Me i' uXnvt Kfiynn Dm. 


This tragic colophon, so eomnirady affix* 
ed to the Euripidean plays, is in fact tha 
pri^r motto and aymbfris of every Greek 
tragedy. Not Ihe wit of man, but the wis. 
dom of God briags about the issue. 

Tui T'alinrar itfn of, OBOE. 

And they who blame the Greek tragedies 
for this characteristic, firmly lamenting that 
they are '' too much mixed up with their 
tales sbaut oracles, and the vengeance of 
the gods" (Blair)---do in &ct act as wisely 
as if they should blame the Bible for not 
being a fashionable novel. The Bible of 
Greece was Homer and the lyric poets \ 
the tragedians did nothing more than cut 
slices from this bounteous feas\ of popular 

poetry. "^VXI "" '0|"V«» fij«>™ Jmrmr, u 

£schylu8 said : their tragedies were onr 

sermons, and their stage was our pulpit. 

Suppose the pious old adjunct of mysteries 

and moralities not to have been choked in 

rat infancy, but to have grown up along 

the other parts of our Church service : 

— suppose at our great Church feasts — 

Tha Nativity, Lent, Easter, dsc. (answer- 

iog to the *tftm^n, &c. of the Greeks] — 

sacred lyrical dramas, comprising the most 

intoresting events in the history of tha 

Church from Adam to Martin Luther, to be 

auQually exhibited with all the pomp of ap- 

ropriate costume, and all the solemnity of 

feouioe cathedral music; — suppose these 
ramas written by Soulhey, not by Mrs. 
Hsnnah More : for Iphigenia put Jephtha'a 
daughter ; for Dionysius put Noah ; for 
Hercules put Samson ; for Caucasus put 
Calvary. Bring all this a$ pari of the 
Church atrvice, before joyful throngs of 
worshipping spectators, and you have a clear 
idea of what the Greek tragedy was lo the 
Greeks. The sjKctators of the Dionysian 
operas did not seek for the stir of a bustling 
action, or the excitement of a curious plot ; 
they sought for the calm religious contem- 
plation and the devout religious enjoyment 
of ancient, familiar and venerated traditions. 
To thia feast of devotion, dramatic strength 
ike that of .Kschylus, dramatic skill like 
that of Sophocles, might be highly servicea- 
ble. But a luxuriant lyrist and fluent rhe. 
torician, like Euripides, might do the work 
" ', and even, in some cases, gain 
the palm. It is not to be calculated how 

* Maoy are tlw deritlioiii of the Godi, uid 
mui; thing! they bring sbout caotnry to •ipeclz. 
lion ; ihinfft ItaX ■eemed probtfale hits not com* 
to pus, md tm thinn Improfaabla Ood h&tb found 
out ■ fulfiliiisnt. Such hath bsen lb« coaras vf 

Digitized byGoOgle 

Meriii »f Enripiif, 


laodetD criticB have coafbundod thenwelrea 
and their readers b^ the vicious habitof com- 
pariog the Qreek goat.aoDg with that pei- 
feotly difieranl thing— (he modern tragedy. 
They have ttma with much negative wis. 
dom (a commodity in which critics are too 
apt to deal) aasured ua that that which is 
round is not square, and that which is 
square is not round. But they should have 
set the ancient tragedy against the modern 
oratorio, or the few sacred dramas which 
Metastaaio exhibited at Vienna, and they 
would have seen in what a pitiful case we 
moderoa are as lo this matter. We have 
made no such noble use of our Bible as the 
Greeks made of their popular poetry. This 
is a lamentable fact. One epic poem we 
have constructed out of the three first chap- 
ters of Genesis ; but the rest of our sacred 
history, so far as our poetry is concerned, 
lies an uncultivated garden. Oiir stage 
alas! is ^toentially pro&ne ; and not pro- 
fane onl^, but deep'leprosied through many 
years with immorality, from which disease 
It is only now recovering. Our pulpit again, 
we may well say, is too sacred, too for. 
ma], too didactic, too abstract, too general, 
too vague, too remote from the sympathies 
of everyday Ufe. Our religion seems some- 
how strangely at war with the poetfoal arts ; 
the sisterly bond of beauty and piety has 
been broken ; the graces of the human tout 
will not intertwine in friendly dance ; and 
famous preachers have declared publlciv 
that the door of the theatre is the mouth of 
hell. The division of labour has triumphed 
here also : the fingers of the pin-maker 
have become very expert ; but the heart of 
the man is barren and unfurnished : (he 
holiness of hfe is felt only amid the solemn 
gloom of the Church, before the formal dis- 
course of the preacher ; its luxnriant pomp 
unfurled only amid the empty glitter of the 
stage. Is it meant that this divorce shall 
remain for everl 

And yet we seem haaty. We have been 
drawing conclusions from Proteatantism, and 
not from Christianity. No doubt a Madonna 
of Raphael is as glorious a wedlock of art 
and religion, as the (Edipus Coloneua of 
Sophocles. And of this that sect of Eng- 
lish theologians, who are cslled " Oxford 
Papists," seem to hava some notion. Keble 
is a poet ; he looks for unity and harmony ; 
be seeks to smooth duwn all religious difier- 
ences by the sweet music of poetic reconci- 
liation ; not like some stern Calvinistic 
Northmen, whose religion blows like a sharp 
east wind, as if reason required lo be killed 
eternally. But matters are mending. Even 
out of Presbyterian ism George Staney has 
drawn poetry; witness thoee divine pictures! 

— llie fire is not the less liot within Heols, 
beoBuae its outer rind is ice. What the 
sterner phase of Proteatantism wants is not 
poetic fire, but the diffusion of that fire. Our 
tree ia hung with fruit, but the fruit is not 
mellow. Our preaeni may be hard to bear, 
but there is no fear of ihe future. Our puU 
pit shall certainly become less acholastic, 
our stage more sanctified.* 

There are some men lo wiwm what we 
have said on the sacred nature of the Greek 
stage may appear strange. Tbeae men find 
nothing but a low and degrading super- 
stition in the ancient drama ; and *' mere 
fatality and blind chance" seems a very dif* 
ferent tiling from God. Alas for the narrow 
sympathies of those souls who can share in 
no worship beyond the four -walls of their 
own conventicle !— rAlaa for the barren har- 
vest of that eye which feeds continually on 
its own seeing, and on its neighbour's blind. 
nesal Were I lo extract the whole of 
Christianity from an ,£achylean chorua, 
what harm 1 Is the noonday iight which I 
enjoy leas precious because it once sbone 
through the darkneiis 1 There are plants 
whose fruit is ambrosia, but whose root ia 
poison; is the fruit the worse for thatT 
But where is this thedc^cal poison of the 
Greek drama, and what ode celebrates the 
triumph of fatality and blind chance 1 
Where is the human aoul upon earth whose 
basest superstition in not inhabited by a di- 
vine soul of piety 1— unless, perhaps, that 
poor brother of the kangaroo in New South 
Wales, who, if they, tell true, believes in a 
devil only — not in a God. But the Greek 
tragedy ia instinct with the prolbundest and 
most genuine piety. And what they call 
fatality and chance is a mere imagination of 
the one-aided modern critics, borrowed from 
a one-sided contemplation oJTone section of 
the Greek tragedy, the Labdacidan story. 
Herodotus also speaks of chance, but it is a 
ttia nx*, as he qualifies it, and merely ano- 
ther name for what we call special provi- 
dence. And as to necessity, the tragedians 
never worship a God of this name, but ibey 
say in iauguage, which any Christian might 

* Od the nibject of ihs stiEe generally, aod 
npecUUy on iti oonnection wi£ reWion both hi 
■nciant and modem timei, the reader will find 
*ome i.diiiirBble obierrationi in tbe article of ihe 
Edinburgh Review, formcrlj quoted. 

t We think tbe fimoiu ode in the AlettU to 
Necarity ia a rolitarf example in the Greek drama ; 
and it a only another way of aajdng ■' All men Kut 
die '." Whi.t Prometheiu aaji anin he aaya lor him- 
■elf, not far £ich;liu. And if inanv paaaage of 
anaient wlilera Jove ii aaid to be infenar to Pate, tt 
ia alwajn open to inquire, whether an imetrd or an 
mitaard Fate be intsnded. 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Mtritt of Evrifida. 

That ia to say, the divine decrees are un- 
alterable, aed we ought to aubmit to them 
with cheerful resignation. These lines are 
the last of the Phcsniase ; and the prologue 
of the same play ahoivs how liiile reason 
Blair (Lecture zlvi.) had (o complain of the 
influence of '' mere fatality and blind chance" 
in the Labdocidan story. — 

Ml) nrri^ nnur ■>«■ AAIMONQN 0,t~ 

" Do nol sow the seed of children con. 
trary to the will of the gods." So sounded 
the words of the oracle to Laius ; and la it 
nol strange that a Christian divine should 
have round no theology here, but the atheism 
of blind chancei when his own faith is found- 
ed upon the ever-memorable denunciation — 
" In the day that thou eatest thereof thou 
■halt surely die ]" And as to the circutn- 
■tance that <!Edipus personally was innocent 
of any great crime, do people die in life or 
the drama merely because they are guilty 1 
And shall the punisbme&t of sin be just ev«n 
to the third and fourth generation in the 
mouth of Mosea, and 

be unjust io the mouth of jEschylus I But 
the fact is, thai no stern iron necessity, but 
the slow-gaihering storm of divine wrath for 
nnrepented sin, hann solemnly over the 
doomed ones of the Greek drama. So the 
chorus of the Eumenldes expressly sets 
ibrth — 

B«y.. a,it.„ A>»i 
Ofl^t 'itit ttiif wtti Xof 

No boniily could be more clear. The 
Oreek dramatiale are truly far more express 
00 this point than the nmderns. Admire 
Hamlet who will ; then let liim denounce the 
blind fatality of (Sdipua if he dare. 

The more profoundly indeed that we study 
the religion of profane antiquity the more 
clearly shall we comprehend that Christianity 
was DOE BO much a new religion, as the 
blossom and crowning triumph of all pre- 
vious religious — a consol ins truth that makes 
the heart of a man cxpanu, and tho Divine 
particle within him leap for joy. So the 
Greek tragedy — the .£schyleiin in particular 

teenu every where with a hatf-developad' 
Christianity. The whole play of the Seven 
against Thebes, for instance, is a practical 
commeniary on the song of the Blessed Vir. 
gin, *' He hath showcth strength with His 
arm : Ho both scattered the proud in the 
imagination of their hearts." It is a mis- 
take to suppose that humility ia a virtue 
peculiarly Christian. The only great Chris- 
tian virtue which the Greek drama cannot 
comprehend is that divinest one — " Love 
thine enemy 1" ■' To hate with one,sou!," — 
MI mytiv fiuf #*(>«— Kos tho maxim of ancient 
cilizensbip ; and no wonder. So speaks 
flesh and blood; and we Christians, both 
priest and layman, have bilheno fgr the most 
part contented ourselves with prtoe^inj this 
nsio commandment; the practice of it is 
very hard and presaes too closely on the 
strongholds of tha old Adam of selfishneM. 
Nor even in the more unlikely region of 
theological doctrine is the Greek drama 
barren of ttje most pious lessons. The 
Polytheism of the iBwhylean chants is a 
thing comparatively innocent ; even as the 
Roman Caiholic religion in the head of an 
educated Roman Catholic is a very diSerent 
thing from the same religion in the head of 
an i^noiant and bigoted individual. The 
inferior deities of the £schylean theology 
are only the viceroys of the one Btaroal 
Sovereign of the Universe. Jove is the 
fountain of all divine enargy i Pallas Athene 
is wise only because she inheriis ber father's 
wisdom {ttfn f iifHTB* Mtpoi). Apollo does 
not prophecy his own arisdom, but the wis- 
dom of Jove — 

(Aix tft^ijTJK ff tun Alfiai »T]M() — 

and from Jove comes the "-swaet.speaking 
voice'' (•■'•"ne fnn) of tha Delphic oracle. 
Jove is the all powerful, the only free ; the 
eternal ruler (aiunt rpiw awnwm): wiae and 
the teacher of wisdom ; just and the avenger 
of injustice ; prayer-hearing and the pro- 
tector of Bupplianta. There is in fact no 
attribute which Christian philosophy aacribes 
to God, thai iGwhyleaa poetry do«a not as. 
oribetoJovej with this difierence, however, 
that we ttoBst to read theatatuto book of the 
law in stereotype ; — the Greeks were guided 
by the inward polarization of the heart only, 
or the loose fluttering Sibylline leaves of an 
uncertain mythic tradition.* 

The Greek tragedy is not merply the mu. 
sical and dechmatory represBataiioQ of a 
sacred history ; it is also, oa we stated orti. 

• ■< BqI chiefly T tall tbee reveranee tha altir of 
JaMios, nor, when gtin tampta thee, vanlnra to kick 
It with godlaaa loot i fbr pnniiduneat hongs ovw 
an : tha appoiated wi raraains." 

VOL. XXIV. 19 

• Thofa who imagini 

e havs ovent&ted iha 

. .. , nsaAil commsnt Ihayniay 

taks sJong with than KUatnft vahuMa tract 
>' Tkttlogimtna MteknU TrmgidJ' Berlin, II — 


MerUi cf Euripidet. 


culately above, the tbeologbal developmeat 
of a religioui idea ; and the appreheading a{ 
this idea ia oflea of far greater importaace to 
the right estimate of the plajr than any criti* 
ciam, however just, on character and inci. 
dent But the idea ia not alAoya to be found 
in a single play ; il is obscurely hinted at in 
the outset, and oflen only finds its flill de- 
Telopment in the final play ofaseriei. Here 
the matler of the tragic Trilogy becomes of 
primary importance. Il is impossible in [his 
i^gard to separate the Agamemnon and the 
Choephorce from the Eumenides ; and the 
Prometheus Bound must remain a riddle to 
every reader who does not scheme out for 
himself a Prometheus unbound, to reconcile 
, the religious discords of the piece. Happily 
this may now be done without losing our- 
aelves in the transcendental wanderings of 
Percy Bysshe Shelley. The Germans na 
pioneered here, and opened a hopeful visi 
On the Trilogy aa applied to .^Ischylus, 
Professor Welcher of Bonn has written a 
tomewhat fanciful, but not therefore to the 
wise a less edifying work.* Herr Gruppe 
also bns justly devoted considerable space 
to this interesting subject ; and do student 
who wishes to penetrate beyond the surface 
of the .^^chylean drama will neglect to 
laahe himself master of these luxuriant Ger- 
man speculations. Herrman, as uaual, has 
brought his square university logic to bear 
against the fruitful poetry of the Welcher 
and Mailer school. Bui fairy forms will 
not allow themselves lo be fingered by every 
mathematical man who would phtne down 
the rich garden of things into a chess' 
board. Welcher is a scholar with wings, 
and Herrman will have the learned world 
laugh solemnly at the capers of the mad 
bird i when it were wiser and worthier in 
thia goDwation of prose to thank God that 
there appears such a thing as a winged 
■pint at alL 

There is one matter remains ; the matter 
of dockmntioB ; but that is shortly diicussed. 
Euripides Is prominMitiy ' remarkable for 
this obaracteristic : but ^^hylua and 
Sophocles also are not free from it. The 
Mse and variety of natural dialogue is alto- 
gether wanting in the measured solemnity of 
tragic phrase, l^ia seems to have arisen 
from two causes. The dialogues were alto- 

?9ther wanting in the original drama of 
hrynichus ; where there was only one 
apeakar, formal recitation necessarily sup- 
jdied its piaee. .^schylus introduced a 
second speaker : but it would have been 
quite conUary to the organic laws of {)oetic 

* Dis fwhjMMhe Trilogies DannitadI, 


development had we found in him a sudden 
leap from the formality of colhurnate decla- 
mation to the vivacity of natural converse. 
Accordingly his dialogue bean every where 
the stnmpofits undramaiic origb. What 
shall we say to' the long narrations in the 
latter half of the Prometheus 1 We behold 
here drama in its nnost infantine and tmpcr. 
feet s'.ate ; but one step above the monologue 
of Phrynichus. Prometheus discourses ; he 
does not talk : the action not only flags, as 
we say of a dull play, but there is no move- 
ment at all. fo Sophocles, agaia, considerable 
point and pith of dialogue will often be 
found : witness the admirable parry and 
thrust between (Kdipua and Tiresiai. But 
even Sophocles is far from being free from 
long, formal, stilted ezpositioiu, that betray 
at every turn the incomplete and balf-de- 
veloppd characler of the Greek drama, 
when viewed strictly as drama. In such a 
slate of things is it at all wonderful that 
Euripides was able without much offence lo 
pas* ofi* Sot stage dialogue his formal law 

E leadings and philosophic argumentaiions 1 
lUt another cause was also at work in pre- 
serving lo the Greek tragedy its measured 
and deliberate pace. The religious chant 
whkh composed the nucleus ofevery sacred 
drama, was, of course, in its own nature 
measured and solemn ; and good taste re. 
quired that the character of the declamalion 
should be in keeping with the character of 
the singing. Here s^ain we see the in- 
fluence of ihe chorus ; the solemn characler 
of the ode passes into the dialogue ; and 
even in the human heroes of (he Greek 
drama we seem in every move to bear, not 
the walk of a man, but the tread of a god. 

In the preceding observations, from the 
vsst extent of the subject, we have been 
compelled throughout to- give hints rather 
than disquisitions, to allude rather then to 
expound, to give the results of observation 
rather than the facta observed. But what 
we have given, we have given as the fniitnf 
much laborious study ; and perhaps the 
Greek student will not take ii amiss, if 
endeavour, in conclusion, to supply a 
few hints which may possibly be of use to 
him in prosecuting hia private researches on 
ihissobject. GreekiBnow out of fashion • 
and there are many reasons why il should 
be K» : it remains, however, indisputably [true, 
that next lo our native treasurer, no foreign 
literature will yield such a rich mine of 
poetry as the Greek. The drama, in par- 
ticular, for its thorough nationalily, its lyri- 
cal luxuriance, its moTal purity, its religious 
dignity, is unexampled in the history of the 
butaan mind. No lover of poetry will 
grudge tvrelve months of his rnQst vigorous 

yoalbtothesludyoftlieQreeklaDguftge. In 
twelre montba, however, the business sbould 
be done :* and if it now occupies as many 
yean, and the fruit produced nerenheless ia 
meagre and dry, the uaiuitiateii seem per- 
fectly juMiSed in eatimating the profit u 
far beoeaih the outlay ; for it certainly does 
seem a strange thing ibat men should spend 
twenty yeara in learning that Platp was a 
great philosopher, and yet sell their soul*, 
like unlearned men, lo Jeremy Begtham, 
aad the great goddess Utiliiana nfler all. 
With like practical conai^iency wc spell out 
the choral cbants of .£acbylus, and we aj 
pend learned titles to our names lo show ihi 
we have done so. But what becomes of 
choral siaging in oar families, in our public 
assemblies, in ouf sacred congregattona! 
Does it not seem & much wiser ibing to sing 
English choruses in ourschoola than lo read 
Greek ones T The uaioitialed ask these 
questions, and they are entitled lo ask them. 
The great error seems to be that we go 
to Oxford Tor Greek instead of to Athens j 
we bold oedantlc converse with the dead, 
when we should enter into bonds offraternity 
with iho living. Greek is not a dead lan- 
guage ; any newspaper printed in Athens or 
Nauplia will prove that. Why then do we 
stndv it aa a dead language 1 Why do we 
apell a thing painfully after six years' study, 
which we might learn to speak Suently m 
six months 1 If the student is wise he will 
not confine himself to Oxford. Next to a 
residence in Athens, asemestre ofa German 
University — Berlin, GSitingen, or Munich 
— will prove of the greatest advantage to 
the aludenl. He wJI! find an Inspiration in 
the presence of Bdckh, MQUer, and Thiersch, 
which does not breathe forth from Uicarid 
atmosphere where Burney is praised and 
Person worshipped ; and where conjectural 
criticism is trumpeted as the sole end and 
aim of Greeks, and Greek ai the sole end 
and aim of human nature. Conjectural 
criticism truly 1 not merely "pots lo 
mend I" aa Whewell saya ; for unless it be 
mended the pot will hold no broih: — but an 
useless and unprofitable disriguremoni of 
ancient pictures by officious and conceited 
modern reslorators — the ceremonial service 
of a superstitious devotee, who stitches away 
with minute diligence at the petticoat of 
the Virgin Mary, and boasts thereby to b« 
doing God and humanity good aiTvice. 
Of alt things the Greek student wili 
most carefully avoid the barren puerili- 

Mtrilt ^ Ewrifidtt. 


• "We doaiaimla ipond leven or eight ye»™ 
merely in iera;iin^ togethrr w muei mUerahU 
Latin and Ornk k» might be Iswngd otlKriviM 
amiy and ddightftiUy ia an* jeu,"— Hil>W, 
letter lo H«lUk 

' tiea of the Porsonian school ; the pedantic 
jargon of Iambus and Trochee, monotoDOUS- 
ly doled out by men who have no mujic in 
their ear, and no poetry in their soul. Bet- 
ter to abstain from Greek altogether than to 
become either buyer or seller in the scho- 
lastic retail trade of syllabic technicalities: 
perform idol worship to the akin of a " deaa 
vocable ;" end lose sight of the noblest ends 
in the pragmatical fingering of the puniett 

With regard to the Greek drama, in 
particular, the student will find six aids of 
eapecial importance: some of them- indeed 
allogetherindispensable. , 

1. The study of life end nature. 

2. The study of English drama. 

3. The siiidy of music — modern opara 
and oratorio ; and Bockh's Pindaric 


4. Tho study of ancient art, as iuggosl«d 

by Schlegel. 

5. The study of ancient religion and my 


6. Tho Gorman critics. 

On these things we cannot at present 
aSbrdio enlaree. Their propriety will be 
manifested to tne slightest reflection. Only 
on the last point we shall allow ourselves B 
few worda. We attach the grealeat import- 
ance to the study of the German critics ; not 
because these writers axe altogether frea 
from puerile ^nciest and sublime obaervs- 
lions ; bat because ibey are dlways rich ia 
those qualities of mind, of which our native 
riticism (in this department at least) is 
peculiarly barren — ^imagination, ingenuity, 
and enthusiasm. From the Greek critics 
little is to be got ; from the French ies*. 
Aristotle was a philosopher ; a square 
scientific man. No person can read hi> 
poetry without disappointment. We do 
not here speak of its fragmentary character ; 
but of its whole style and toae. It ia a 
criticism of the mere understanding ; 
it ia entirely destitute of poetical 
sympathy; it disaecl: and lays bare 000 
scientific idea, but does not recreate 
and reorganl7.e the whole poetic vegetation : 
it scei nothing but iw*, nprnnc*, and 
•"••Y"^iT< in ihe drama ; precisely that 
for which it is least remarkable. But Aris- 
totle was a Greek ; and not oely a Greek 
but an ancienl ; he could not see the wood, 
as the German proverb says,, for very 
- . The French critica will amuse 
ihanthey will edify; all that they could 
sayaboutthc Promeiheus was, thatdicy held 
hcplot waa"monatrotjs.'' And yet ao barnn 
ivere we of native intellect that these maa 
>vere our guides in classical belles-lettres 
more than half a century, till Schlegel 


MerUa of EvHpidu 


wakeoed us out of oar drrams ; and along 
with Wilson, CJarlyle, and other free and 
generous spirilSi ezerciaed a moat beneficial 
iofiueoce on the critical lilorature of (his 
country. Ho helped to banish the prior 
cant ot "patronizing ctiliciam ;" and low- 
ered ihe facliiious importance of the Hmall 
kid-glove men who measured the giants of 
nature's growth as tailors measure kings, by 
externalities only. The cr'ticism of reve- 
rential sympathy — the alone positive, the 
alone profltabia — now lifted up its voice. 
Exaggeration and mystification were of 
course here and [here its concomiianta. 
WheiLB ditcher digs, bubbles will come out 
of the earth, but he does not dig for bubbles. 
Profitable work was done ; men sought 
with bumble inquiry to asceriaicf what 
things are, not with vain pretence of dicta- 
torial wisdom to tell ua what things are not ; 
Schlegel was triumphant in all the reviews ; 
and not in the reviews only ; but into the 
crawnJRj- books of the Oxonians also he 
came, and seemed nearly as important a 
person as Porson ; the sentence about the 
Niobe snd the Lsocoon was hawked sbout 
small periodicals and young men's essays, 
as frequently as Rory O'More is whistled 
through the street^ Aristophanes was no 
lonffer a bnfibon; and pror(<ssorSchDlefield, 
in Cambridge, expounded ^achylus. 

The great merit of Schlegt^l tvas that 
with a decided and fearless front he beat 
down the strongholds of the French dynasty ; 
and revindicated to nature, earnestness, 
vigour, and Sre, their rightful empire over 
refinement, trickery, elegance and correct- 
ness, h courtly lie was no longer to be 
preferred to a plebeian truth ; and this is the 
essence of all good criticism. In Germany 
Schlerel had been preceded by Lessing — 
the only man, says Menzel, among an age of 
women. But here ivhen Schlegel carnc 
amongst \is in 1826, the age of women 
was not yet extinct ; our classical criticism 
was almost a blank; and to twirl on the 
finger ends a few crisped sentences on a 
Greek tragedy, was naturally the iixclueive 
monopoly of classical prigs; sound and 
substantial man had somethtng more useful 
to do. To Schleget we owe almost every 
thing that our classical criticism is or at- 
tempts to be. It is the part of national 
graiiludB to acknowledge the obligation. 

What now has Herr Oruppe done that 
may be regarded as solid gain, after the 
notable labours of his meritorious prcdeces. 
tor? The first thing that strikes ua here is 
that In all main points and general views he 
completely coincides with Sohlegel. The 
same enthnsiastic admiration of Sophocles, 
the Hme cheap caiimet« of Euripides, is 


everywhere visible, and may be said indeed 
to cantrtiiute the sou] of his critici&m. .fischj- 
Ins he seems sotnewhit to depreciate, but 
onlyjeemi/ he is evidently writing partly 
with the view of counteracting the influence 
of that one-sided partiality for ^jchylus 
which characterised the late ingenious la- 
bours of Professor Wekiher- Bating this, bis 
estimate of the father of tragedy will not be 
found to difier materially from Schlegel's. 
It is in the more curious and comprehensive 
ilhistration of detail that we are to seek for 
the peculiar excellences of Gruppe's book: 
and here we find him a real treasure. 
Schlegel could give only the most ge- 
neral views; he was lectnrjng not on the 
Greek irageidy, but .on drama general- 
ly : some slips of judgment in matters 
of detail were scarcely to be avoided on this 
extensive ibcme ; and in these matters 
Herr Gruppe, with a somewhat oslenlalioui 
zeal, but at the same time with the handling 
of perfect mastership, is never slow to set 
him rit;ht. We may instance the two Ba- 
ripidean plays, Iphigenia in Aulisand Rbft- 
sus; bothof which Schlegel had unworthily 
criticized, but which have received a full 
and triumphant vindication from our new 
critic. If on these and on other occa- 
sions, not Schlegel only, but Herrman also 
is somewhat severely handled, they have 
themselves to thank. Herrman hns uni- 
formly spoken the language of scholastic 
dictatorship ; and Schlegel. always loo legis- 
latorial, has of late exhibited himself publicly 
as a coxcomb and a gasconader. The one 
character might have passed with a smile, 
the other deserves the laah. To the student, 
however, ihe book is all the better for thia 
spice df polemical severity; the clash of 
opinions stirs his energies, and forces him to 
form an independent judgment. 

Gruppe is in all things a thorough Ger- 
man ; and herein the great excellence of 
his book lies. The Germans are born crit- 
ics. Their literature, by a process the re- 
verse of what history generally presents, was 
founded on criticism. Lessing was a critic ; 
Herder was n critic ; GAtho was a critic. 
But the criticism of the Germans is not the 
barren work of the understanding. Perfect 
reproduction of the lost Beautiful, and perfect 
reverential sympathy with it when repro- 
duced, is the ambitious mark of its activity. 
It is a thing esaentially vital ; essentially 
creative. It collects and orders the scatter. 
ed iry bones of antiq^uily, and breathes into 
them the breath of life. It is poetry, but 
poetry working on nature mediately only, 
through books. It is based on learning and 
inured by eothusiasm ; il demands imagi* 
nation to f«.cr«al«, ingenuity to tnveat and 

I qitizedbyGoOgle 


rapply, a free fancy to revet joyfully in the 
thing re-created. It has no kinsbip wilh the 
barren, arid formaliam of the romaian 
•chool ; il ia a thing peculiarly German ; a 
plant which eroivs naturally, and heallhiiy, 
and luatily only on German ground. Let 
this be examined into Quictlvt and it will be 
found to be the caae. The Uermana ar« the 
proper priests of literature ; we need not be 
chary to allow them this merit ; so long ■( 
least as we can boast mare gods, and the 
one supreme Shakspeare, before whom 
Goihe, like our own Byron, wisely trembled.* 
But being priesta, the Germans may be truly 
said to be indispensable to all who seek to 
join generally in the public worship of liiera. 
lure. Let us confess it honestly — a great 
part of our best crit'cism at the present day 
IS only an echo from Germany ; an echo 
sometimes indeed waning louder and more 
solemn, like thunder among the hills, but 
sometimes, also, as ualike the original im- 
pulse as the prnttle of a child to the deep- 
moulhed utterance of an oracle. Coleridge 
is a Germun, Carlyle is a German, Wilson 
also is a German, though unconsciously ; 
the Oxonians do nothing at this present mo- 
ment but translate German ; and even the 
newspapers quote Jean Paul Uichter. 

We cannot more Rlly conclude these hosty 
observBtiona than by adding from Gruppe a 
passage, where he brings out strongly the 
general poetical worth of the Greek drams, 
and specially its connection with ancient 
popular poetry; and compares both with the 
less per^ct development of national litera- 
ture in modern limes. 

'■ I seem to discover two great steps in the 
development of Greek poetry, the nature 
and relHtive position of which has hitherto 
been very superficially considered. The 
product of the first is the Homeric ballads, 
and was rounded into completeness by the 
^iwiinurrai of PisUtratus. . But contempora- 
neously wUb this stable record of tradition, 
I recognize the exintenca of a luxuriant 
many-branched tree of popular fables grow- 
ing up and cherished in the bosom of the 
people — the circle of cyclic poetry. Purl of 
this poetry also is prematurely committed to 
writing i but petrifaction does not follow, as 
Id modem times has so generally been the 
effect of printing popular tegends. The free 
yitality remains, and the rich mythic mate- 
rials find their rhapsodists in the tragedians, 
and their Homer in Sophocles. The Greek 
tragedy grewoutof the immense circulating 
mass of mythics, as naturally as Homer 
grew out of the iiiadic and Odyssean le- 

MtrH$ of Euripidti. 

• See GOtho*i conreniuai mi this lubjoct in Eck. 
•rmuui'i Gemr&cbes, Foreljin Quuleilj lUvHew, 
Oetobsi, 1S36. To compare Gaih* to Shski- 
paara, is to oonpwe a {aidsn to the woild. 

gends ; the architecture is perfectly homo- 
geneous — colonnade piled upon colonnade. 

*- This organic com pie tenets, indeed, thia 
fair and perfect growtti of the national vital- 
ity, is that characteristic of the Greek poetry 
wnich will make it interesting to cultivated 
minds as long as men live to take an interest 
in the spiritual development ot men- We 
have here two perfect chains of popular poe- 
try, springing out of the same mythic bed, 
each advancing in its own separate line of 
unbroken energy to tbe culminating point of 
perftet organization ; the history of^lliera- 
ture presents nothing to compare with this. 
The great Greek poets do not stand isolated 
and aione^ like our modern writers ; the 
bonds of popular sympathy have not been 
unloosed; Homer, Pindar, Sophocles, stand 
inessential organic relation to each other; 
ia this connection alone can they be esti- 
mated or enjoyed. Never since tbe Greek 
times has poetry received such a full, free 
and uniform development- Neither stunted 
in any limb, nor starved in Itie general qual- 
ity, we behold here a full-grown pattern 
specimen of poetry, an example to all ages 
of perfect poetical propriety. 

"Our own Niebelungen presents us with 
a modern repetition of the Homeric poems ; 
and the Book of Heroes may be looked upon 
aa the cyclic poetry belonging thereto ; out 
out of these elements no German drama has 

pose a national theatre. Even out of the 
memory of the people these tables have now 
for tlie most part vanished- To drag them 
out of oblivion with learned preparation will 
now avail nothing. The most natkinai poet 
would come too late to re-animate the pnpu- 
lar poetry of Germany. Besides, no national 
poetry was ever created by a leap; Bopho- 
cles worked upon £schylus, and JBschylus 
upon Phrynichus; with us everyone must 
strive afier originality, and work out of him- 
"InBngland, however, i see something 

stands at the head of a line of popular poe- 
try, neither so long, nor so rich, nor so Un- 
broken as tbe Greek, but still national. 
Into his hands the legends of far centuries 
travelled ; some of them even came through 
the hands of previous dramatists; forming 
a perfect analogy to the course of Grees 
poetry ; as in Lear, Measure for Measure, 
the MercliBnt of Venice, the Taming of the 
Shrew, &,a. ; and in the most he had Italian 
novels and curiously constructed teles to 
weave from. However many singuiarltiee 
and excrescences he exhibits, we may still 
trace in him that inward organization and 
roundingso characteristic of popular poetry. 
Shakspeare ia indebted for these advantages 
to the circumstance thai England was less 
harsh and bitter in her religious views than 
other kingdoms of Europe. The religion of 
the Elizabethan age could tolerate poetry. 
We Germans suffered first from the rigorism of 
the Protestant Reformers, then from the keen 

Digitized byGoOgle 


Sehtiiul—Trovth in /Ac Ent. 


edge of thfi Vfv^y 15^"'*' ^' > *^ ^^'^ '^"^ 
on violenuy from'aU con neclion with Iha fo- 

Ssbaustible ricbea of popular poetry. To 
le evil iofluence of theok^lcal strife, the 
pedantry of what is called classical learnioe 
was added. We have been Btiidyine Greek 
for three ceaturiea only tp learn at tnis tii 
■ ele "'' ■ 

baa t>eeQ B;^Btematically irampled on, and 
taaa now perished in one brsncD beyond re- 
demption,"— Arimftw, p. ""' 

AsT. II.— Schubert : Beite im ICo'genland- 
en, in dtnjahran 1836 tmd 1B37. (Tra- 
vels in the Baat, in 1S8A and 1887.) 2 
Vols. Leipaic, 1839. With an Atlas of 

Few of those who remember the publication 
of Chnteaubriand's "Itinfcraire de Paris & 
Jerusalem" have forgotten the sensation it 
produced, by laying before the public eye 
those lands of history, romance, and fable, 
which, once the terror and aversion of Bu- 
rope, ' had since become the superstitious 
wander of the vulgar, and a long desired 
field for literary enterprize. The tribe of 
louristB that followed, with thair tales of per- 
sonal peril and their national peculiarities, 
contributed towards keeping up the interest 
their talented precursor had awakened : 
earlier, travellers had only for a time excited 
attention from the learned. Those times 
are past, and with them much of the danger 
and novelty of oriental travel. The wonders 
of nature and art which adorn these interest. 
ing regions have proved so fruitful a iheme, 
that even the details have too ollen become 
insipid from repetition. We select, however, 
on this subject, an author of wetUknown 
literary attainments, nor can it be denied that 
the work before us is by far the most interest- 
ing and important he has produced. .Dr. 
Schubert is a gentleman both in spirit and 
language, and ttte perspicuity and elasticity 
pervadiaif the woric must raise the author to 
a tolerable rank among the lourists of his 
day. He possesses one important advantage 
even oyer Chateaubriand, viz. — a thorough 
knowledge of natural history. 

Hence arise a force and brilliauce in his 
deacription of scenery, of atmospheric or 
oeteslial phenomena ; and which, joined with 
active incident and humorous anecdote, pre- 
serve untiring the interest of the work. 
There is another striking feature in ihe book 
before u^ which it abarea with tbe *'ltipgrair« 

de Paris," namely, pions and eiahed Chris- 
lien sentiment ; but in this the author is in- 
ferior te Chateaubriand, as the copy to the 
original. The images of the latter have a 
loAy if not sublime character, which assimi- 
lates them to the' words of the prophets, 
while the thoughts of Dr. Schubert belong to 
the species which has sprung up so recently 
in Bavaria, and threatened to spread oyer 
Germany, in opposition to Ihe sentiments of 
the northern or Protestant districts. How 
it happens that Bavaria has constituted her- 
self the centre of such catholic propagandism 
is foreign to our purpose ; but we must do our 
author the justice to say that he has not in- 
terfered with this or any other essentially 
political question, except perhaps where M 
most obsequiously flatters the Austrian sov- 
ernment, which is supposed to be at the Mt- 
torn of this movement. 

M, Schubert's work is dedicated to the 
Queen of Bavnfia, and BYolumiDous introduc- 
tion follows, occupying thirty-four pages with 
utter useleseness. It is entitled " Whither 
wilt thou go?" and consists of certain juve- 
nile dreams, or inspirations as the auihor 
would call them, which might be interesting 
from Shakspeare or Byron, but are insipid 
and irrelevant in asiar of so much less mag- 
nitude. We should, however, act unjustly 
towards the author were we to say much 
about his Eiitleilung — for the simple reason 
that we have not read it, which we apprehend 
will be its fate with most English readers. 
In the beginning of this tour we are inform- 
of what may assist us in understanding 
some parts of Ihe work, that Dr, Schubert was 
in his fiAy-seveoth year when he undertook 
iho journey, and that lie was accompanied by 
his wife, a draughlsmab, and two young 
Bcjentilic friends, of whom we may not hare 
occasion to speak hereafler, invading as they 
do with their mineralogical hammers oven the 
rock of the mystic Horeb and Sinai. 

it is time to relinquish these general 
remarks, and bring the writer forward in his 
own person. 

At page 44 occurs a good description of 
the author's feelings whilst travelling through 
Bavaria. It seemed as though ibe t^dy on^'i 
ai)d not the mind, was journeying towards the 
holy east ; nor was it till he arrived in the 
environs of Enna (in Austria) that the latter 
also became engaged in the enterprise, and 
accepted the conviction that its ar^enl long- 
ings were about to be accomplished. 

"Perhaps," he saya, "theelementaofthis 
desire lie in the historical interest of the spot. 
Here existed that ancient nursery of the 
Christian faith, which even in the first cen- 
tury was illuminated by the dawn of a apL- 


SchubeH—Tr'^velt in iXe '£Utf. 


ritual day, while the countries arouDd were 
buried in the deepest night Here stood the 
Koman Laureacum (Lorch) which received 
the feet of the messengers of station even 
in the second century, which tne Inspired 
Sishop Maximilian flCled with the word of 
life, and where the Christian warrior and 
hero Florian found in the waters of the EnUsi 
Qie death of & martyr." 

Our next extract is a descriplioo of the 
•cenery in these regions. 

"The country from its rich plantations of 
Ihiit treoH rasemblea a large end beautlflil 
garden. In the afternoon at SUenbere we 
were all powerfully itruck with the solemn 
beauty of the surrounding landscape, and 
thequiet loveliness of the autumnal day; the 
distant peaks of the Styrian Alps, covered 
with new fallen snow and glittering In the 
■etllng sun, the refreshing breeze that waved 
the Inxuriant foliage, and fer and near the 
mellow notes of Ihe evenine bells, seemed 
like harbingers not only of tne day of rest 
which the morrow would brine forth, but of 
the approach of that land which had given 
10 us our corporeal and spiritual Sabbaib." 

Id Vienna the author aroused himself with 
iospecttng'the spots which have become mem. 
orable by the repulse of the Turks in that 
dty ; but we pass on to notice one of those 
adulatory passages alluded to in our earlier 
remarks, and it certainly is siogulaily cba- 
racierislic of (he present state of Germany, 
that a Bavarian of some rank, 1 ike Dr. Schu- 
bert, should be extolling (even in his own 
country) not the services rendered him by the 
diplomaiisls of his own monarch, but those 
of a foreign prince. The passage is as fol. 
lows : " The powerful effect of these intro- 
ductions and recommendations, which were 
raven me by the chancellerie of stale of his 
Highneaa Prince Metternicb, taught me that 
the great and comprehensive mind of thb 
statesman is capable of combining the care 
of the general good with that of the indi- 
vidual; and that while he strives to guide the 
powerful stream for the welfare of his cgun- 
try, a poor little rivulet is not beneath his as- 

The journey from Vienna down the Da* 
nube in a steamer aflonla the traveller few 
objects of importance ; but the folloivinsde. 
Bcription of the Castle of Vissegraa is 
worthy of notice. " In the afternoon the 
thunder clouds like mountains lowered over 
the forest of Bakony, whilst the sun in his pro. 
grass above them illuminated the antique 
structure of ihe triangular Castle of Visse- 
grad (Plenteawurg) in which the noble Mat- 
thias Corvinus passed a time of joyful repose 
in the company of our great countryman, 
the astronomer Regiamontanus." This latter 
name is of the more importance at present 

from the prominent plaiie It occupies id the 
life of Columbus, adverted to in M. DUum. 
bolt's Exameu critique surla Geographic du 
Nouveau Continent. Tbe oouotry about old 
Orsova and the baths of Hercules aear He- 
twdia is interesting oU accountof tbe classical 
recollections they awaken, and the deacrip- 
tioa of our author evinces the eldsr and pre- 
cise investigation of a naturalist. '' A wood- 
en brulg« crosses the little rivulet of Jardea- 
dizka, which in rich in trout aud o&er fish g 
then appear thoae ancient aad seemingly im. 
mutable trenches said to be the commence- 
ment of a Roman aqueduct ; next the fertile 
tboiwh rock-bonnd valley of Hehadia with ita 
handsome buildings and romantic scenery in- 
vites the traveller to a lengthened slay. Here 
are the first traces df the baths of Hercules ; 
and although the surrounding country may 
want the charms of the gardens of the Hes- 
perides, it beara abundant marks of the force 
of the patron demi-god. Wild heaps of fallen 
mountains, torn from their places fay the 
waters of the Gzerna, are strewed about the 
meadows, as though the hero bad commenced 
but not completed the task of clearance ; or 
as if some vast deluge had received from 
these rocks a momentary check, till gather- 
ing strength from opposition, the invading 
flood haaforced them before it and scattered 
them in its way." Mehadia, a township of 
about 1500 souls, lies on the left bank of tbe 
Bella Laka on the site of the Roman Ad 

On the Temples of Hercules and Escula- 
piua which existed here some centuries agO| 
were found inscriptions which proved that 
Ihe baths of Hercules were known to tbe 
Romans and much esteemed for their heal- 
ing qualities. Theyare situaledaboutfbrty 
minutes' walk from the township, on the 
rocky banks of the Czerna. Lar^e masses 
of granite cross the bed of the river, espe- 
cially on the right, and form rocks in the 
higher ground ; from the Gssurea in these 
proceed the vapours which, condensed in 
the upper part of the mountain over beds of 
granite, marlschisi, and a compact grey 
chalk, form the springs that supply the 
salubrious baths. There are twenty-two 
springs in all, and their presence is an- 
nounced to the traveller by tho smell of eul. 
phuretted hydrogen, which has been com- 
pared to the effluvia of putrid eggs. The 
quantity of bested water thus supplied is 
considered inferior only to a few of the 
springs of Iceland, Zinunennann has cal- 
culated exactly the quantity of water pro- 
duced by nine of these springs, and found it 
la be on an average 652B cubic feet in iho 
hour, or one-half more than all the aqueducts 
I of Paris conveyed to that capital. - , 



ScAn^wi— TVavc/* m lAe Bad, 


■• We WKlked along th« verdant meadowi 
vhicb border the river Czerna, or under the 
■hndowyroofortheforeatup to the cataract, 
On the green lurf and in iho shadow of the 
■brubbery the crnctutpectarai appeared wilh 
lis modeat bloamm : the vine in a wild atate 
!■ not oncommon oo the borders of the fjr- 
eat, and ibe fig-tree is seen near tbe spring 
of Hercules growing in the open air : a sin- 

Silar proof of the mildness of the climaie, 
mong the birds we fancied we heard that 
poetic iobabilant of the East the wild cooing- 
dove (columtw ruoria-)" 

This is a fair specimen of the style of onr 
author, surrounded at he proceeds on bis 

{'ouroey with classical and historical recol- 
edions, and seizing every inleresling and 
cfaaracieristic feature with some feeling and 
judgment. But the Ealt afibrds sceQea and 
iocidenla more striking and important. 

At length the author finds himself on the 
Black Sea, surrounded by ihe waves of the 
Bosphorus : 

which resembln death without ever pro- 
ducing it J that disease in which we feel 
orersatiated without having tasted food, 
tired to death without having walked, and 
intensely active even in repose. It seems aa 
if we were no more ourselves, but the toss- 
ing »bipj tbe brain seems fastened to the 
top of the mast ; and in lieu of thoughts, 
the rattling wheels and cracking engines 
have taken possession of the head, and de- 

f rived it of all power to keep Itself erect. 
D this slate we passed the fine day of tha 
first of October."^ 

The author gives a detailed account of 
Constantinople; we forbear to insert it, but 
lay before our readers the foliowing descrip- 
tion of Sinmboul while ravaged by that 
Oriental scourge, the plague. 

"In spile of the clamour of the violin and 
tbe yelling song of the gypsies resounding 
throueh the streets of Qaliita, ii did not pre. 
sent tlie appearance of a goddess who could 
t>e prompted by such music to dance and 
"The impetuosity of the stream of the f^V""^"' * P'^""«ted drought, emaciat. 
Danube at its eulrance into the Black Sea is '"? ^°^ 5".^* I **"?' ""^ CDunirics on both 
ao great as to carry tbe current of fresh "'''^^ J?' '"^ Bosphorus, had strewn ashes 
water to the distance of three miles and » ' "I«" '''f. *'«<' of '^^ queen of Turkuih 
half due east from the mouth of the river ; I o""' i }^^ P'^BV" •">d appeared In the 1d- 
as may be discovered by the taste. Steer- \ '«""' *"'' ■ "°'ence unknown for many 
ing south we soon lost this companionship, ?«■"• "^ » *="«" conflsgration had lately 
and entered at once the vast dor^jns of tbe' ^»»"'"'"1 «""« ,<>( 'he moat showy streets. 
Black Sea. It is remarkable that even in | ,^i^''« "^ "^^V '" P^ra a fire broke out iD 
calm weather the waves of this immense e.- >o°»« "f the miserable Turkish huts situated 
panseofwaterriseioaconsiderableheight; °'L"'«,'"""'-"''t«'"'y s'^pes towards the 
this arises from its being the point where^the Arsenal, and we were only saved from tha 
high peaks of Ihe Caucisua on the east, the j 'JJ'P''"'*'"? ''""K^'^ "? '•>« reaolutlwiof some 
girding mojjntains of Hjemus and Olympus ! ^'^J}^' T "'™ "* our aasistanM. If we 
%a the south, and the sloping plains of the *""'«'l towards the sea through tbe grove 
countries of the Danube on the west and °''^J'P''"^^"''^"'"*^"'''"8'ioemeteries, wa 
north, finally coramerge, and by the power- 1 '^^^^^, *"«.'« I^^' ' P°"^" ^V'"5 "^^ 
ful contrast of plains aid mountainS keep ""^ °^^ '" hair-blankels, ami the hartour 
the atmosphere in a perpetual oxcilemeni ; ; ""! f^" °f s"""" ^°l^^^ '"sded with coffins 
the Black Sea being on a great scale whatf"^ "^f "; ^X?"Vl*°"" "^^V**^ ■'">™ 
the squares in front of ona of our lofty Inwards Daud Pascha the graves of Moslem- 

domes is on a small one, that is, the focus ._ 
a constant fluctuation of wind and weather. 
The mind of the wanderer is moved like the 
waters round bim when he finds himself for 
the first time in the vicinity of tbe stage that 
witnessed the deeds of the youth ofman- 
kind ; there in the east arose the Sun of the 
second cosmic day (zweilen Wellages) of 
history, and there in tbe distant south it 
reached the meridian zenith." 

Dr. Schubert often descends to observa- 
tions and remarks that bear the stamp of his 
usual quaint acuteness. 

"The next morning most of us tried 
in vain to rise from our beds to cast our 
longing eyes towards that spot on the western 
coast where Tomi, the ancient capital of 
Bcylhia Minor, was situated, and where the 
banished Ovid sung the pains of expatriation. 
We had been seized with that affection 

were covered with pieces of cloth 
or rags from the body or bed of persons about 
to die; by this custom as dangerous as it Is 
disgusting, this people hope to obtain an 
amelioration of tbe disease. In all the 
streets and bazaars of Ihe town the Franks 
might be seen wrapped in oiled silk, and 
carrying long sticks with which they hoped 
to avoidconlact with the Turks ; and when 
you entered the house of n Fraoki or return- 
ed home after a walk in the town, you were 
Ishut up in a chest like a cupboard, which 
had only a small aperture for breathing, and 
fumigated to suffocation by a basin of coats 
placed at your feet." 

From Constantinople, our IraToIIer con- 
tinued his voyage to Smyrna, a country 
equally intereairng to the antiquarian, the 
naturalist, and the historian ; we shall 
therefore extract his description of the local!. 
ty of Ihe primitive churches of Asia. 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Sehitbert—Travelt in the Saat. 

" A Visit to some of the seven communi- 
ties of Asia Minori to which the Epistles of 
the Apocatrpse are directed, was from the 
first one of the favourite plana ot our pil' 
grimage ; Rod we bad determined to proceed 
ifom Constantinople to Brussa, and thence 
through Pergamus and Thyatriato Sm^rnft; 
but before I say anything of our viatt to 
these localities it may be well to give a slight 
general survey of a country so replete with 
the memorials of ioftnt Cbristiauity. The 
fbrtile villages in the vicinity ol Smyrna 
were the principal Ksta of these communi- 
ties ; among them, Hermes and Hsaniler 
■tand pre-eminent ; the former is now called 
Sarabat, and is situated north of Smyrna , 
and the latter, now called Meinder, lies to 
tfaesouth'of the same peninsula. But in this 
iU-faied land not only the hand of man, but 
the power of nature has also coniributed to 
remove the memorials of the past. The 
ODce sonorous spring of Martryos in the 
midst of ancient Celmoe, and which formerly 
flowed near the castle and park of Cyrus, 
has formed a dilterent treok, through the 
rocic ; and this probably sa far back as 
the earthquake of Hithridates. The more 
recent Apamea, now called Dinare, and 
bnitt by Antiochus Soter, near the town of 
Celmnc, dtsmaniled by repeated earthquakes 
and Turkish invasions is now scarcely dis- 
tinguishable ; and, in uiort, the ruins of one 
church and a number of Christian sepuU 
cbreSi are almost the only relics which Ume 
and violence have spared. The church 
with its adjacent biirymg-place i; situated 
on a mountain, which is represented by Ira- 
ditioDs founded on Sybilllne verse, as the 
Ararat of the Noachic flood.* The cit^ of 
Bphesus, properly so called) is divided trom 
Ajasaluk by a feriilo plain intersected by 
dykea. The pavement and quaysonce des- 
tined for the loading of ships prove that the 
bay, now encumbered by sand und soili 
was at one time navigable up to the town ; 
hut the shores of the sea have been pushed 
backwards for above two miles, and the 
slruclures and harbours of Ephesus are for 
the most part buried in sand. 

" We rested for awhile in the proscenium 
of the ^real theatre, and recalled the time 
when the norf deserted and silent space had 
echoed to that shout of excited tbousandst 
' Great is Diana of the Ephesians !' Oppo- 
site, or perhaps by the harbour, stood the 
temple of the goddess; that deity whom all 
Asia, nay all the ancient world, bad wor- 
shipped ; that temple which had won from 
mankind admiration und wonder. Now no 
knee is found to bow before the majesty of 
the goddess; the very site of her temple is 
doubilbl ; but He whose disciple was perse- 
cuted in ihst theatre is worshipped as the 
salvation and the solace ofman. A voice of 
conviction from wiihin rose to our lips and 
said, ' Ho will never change.' The wind 
vibratdd through the ruined walls, and moan- 

* Compare Arundel, Discoveriei in Aiis Min' 
vol. p. 1. 908, et Mq. ; B-xiliart, SiM. Geognph. 
VOL. XLf. 20 

ed throDKh the deserted town ; it seemed at 
though the voices of the dead had answered 
' Amen-' " — p. 301. 

From Smyrnti our traveller took shipping 
for Alexandria He was informed by the 
captain of the vessel in which he sailed, that 
there would be only thirty passengers, in- 
cluding his own Jivty; this seipied quite 
sufficient for so small a crafl ; but he found 
too late the worthy seaman had omitted 10 
mention that one hundred extra passengers 
were to accompany the aforesaid thirty in 
the same vessel. ''Sweet are the uses of 
adversity," and the doctor found the crowd- 
ed ship a favourable opportunity for studying 
the character ol the Turkish hadshis or pil- 
grims who conslitated the principal part of 
his feliow-passen gen. After sufieriogB 
grievous to one so unused to hardships, the 
traveller arrived in Egypt, the Isnd of mya> 
lery and primeval knowledge, the land of 
Moses, Plato, and Herodotus, now the goal - 
of idle ramblers and would-be sentimentalists. ' 
When the party landed it was about Christ- 
mas, which is cooMdered a favourable ume 
for travelling, as being the finest part of the 
Egyptian spring; and in consequence the 
iiranger becomes inured to the climate, be- 
□re the intense and daugorous be^ of the 
summer months. The doctor indulges in a 
long desortplion of the appearenae of iba 
oonntry during his journey up the Nile, aa 
well OS the efiect produced by the call lo 
prayer from the minarets. We shall pass 

'er these, :ind bring him at once to Cairo. 

^ehcmet Ali has made himself of late so 
imporiani to the European powers, that, po. 
litically speaking, his kingdom bos become, 
in a manner, a part of the European eoa. 
dave. We give the Doctor's acoonot of hi* 
visit to the court. 

As early as the third day aftef my ar- 
rival in Cairo, I was summoned to an audi- 
ence at the Viceroy's, to whom I had bean 
very kindly recommended by the Austrian 
consul. It'was yet the time ot the Ramadan, 
and the hour appointed was eight o'clock. 
Accompanied by the Austrian consul and my 
friend Mr. Lieder, we rode through the city 
with a portlf Janissary, as a sort of protec- 
tion to our IHtle cavalcade^ and a nomber of 
servants bearing flambeaux walked by our 
ildes. This was the first time I had sees 
ibe town, except by daylight, and T could 
scarcely be said to see it now. for it was in 
- state of total darkness till wHhin a short 
distance of the palace, where it was light* 
ed by lanthoms and pans of burning pitch. 
The squares and gates, as well as the 
staircase leading to the palace, were brilliant- 
ly Illuminated. As we entered, was heard 
a cheerful song performed by a ^onia of 
nnnly voteea. 1 nnagiaBd Iken HMM be a, 

I .tPedtyCoOt^lc 

SeitOeri—TnvA is tht EmL 


concsrt ; but it luroed out to tra tbe song of 
tfae Ufe Guardi, which ther BiuK at the pray- 
er Escbe, or tbe lime wEwn daTkneta baa 
■et in. 

" It happened that I bad cboaen for tti ia 
audience an especially jmportanl day. The 
fslumite clergy of Cairo, muftis and ulemas, 
as well as Ihe other sapfr'iora of tccts and 
clerical orders, were aiuing in the great an- 
techambs* about to make tbe Viceroy tbe 
visit of the tiamadan. in tbe lalooa there 
were several Arabs and Turks of diatino- 
tioQ, Interniixed with Franlifi in Oriental 
dresses. A depuUtioo from Mecca was 
also there; they might be distinguished by 
their yellow facea and high turbans, aod.os 
my friend remarked, bf the atrociously con- 
temptuous glancea which Ihey cast upon out 
fiariy. Ttiere was moreover an nmMssador 
rom the aultau, who. at tbe time we arrived, 
was engaged la a private interview with the 
Viceroy, at which not even the interpreter 
in ordinary was present 

'' This important interview having termi- 
nated, Ihe Turkish ambassador appeared, 
surrounded by his own suite, and escorted 
by a crowd of high officers. The private 
physician then went to his Highneaa for a 
tew minutea, after which tbe deputation 
from Mecca received a abort audience, and 
tbo high clergy of the city a still shorter one. 
Much ceremony was ooserved, and I re- 
marked that the clergy were saluted most 
respectfully by the courtiers and soldiers as 
ttaey passed. 
" After a short pause we were oondncted 

to the ri^bt in a corner of the salooD upon 
a splendid divan ; next to him in the same 
corner, Ijut upon the divan of the other side 
or wall, the beat of honour was assigned to 
ma. The fineOrlentalpreetingoftfie Vice- 
roy, ' Praise be to Goo for thy happy ar- 
rival.' was translated by Anstin Bey into 

French, by. ' His hi^litaeaa r^ces at your 
happy arrival in Cairo,' — and thus. I was af- 
terwards Informed, he mutilated the wiwle 

ooDversalion. Hcbemet Ali is a well-farm- 
ed bale old man, with piercing glittering 
•yes: bis countenance expresses not only 
conscious authority, but that moral power 
which talent and uuconquerabie resolution 
Impart. 1 thought much of what I had heard 
and read orhiiii, but hb oounteoance seem- 
ed to My, ' You sae the plough which cuts 
the furrows, but not the power that moves it' 
We were scarcely seated when a page pre- 
sented to us a tumbler of fresh water, with 
•everol preserved fruits on a splendid diah ; 
another nuiiled us the long pine, upon the 
tobucco of which aglowing coal was placed, 
Tbe bowl WBssupporied by a small pedestal 
to save tbe valuable carpets. The large 
amber mouth-pieca of the pipe I received 
was richly ornamented with diamonds, and 
the tuba covered with other jewellery ; so 
much so, that I was informed by Mr. Cham. 
pioD that its value was about 8000 dollars ; 
tba Pasba has pipaa of aUll greater value. 

Whilst these civilitjes were going ooi his 
highness mode honourable mention of our 
king Louis of Bavaria, and as the contents 
of the Kuropean papers are regularly com- 
municated to him, he seemed pretiy wclUc- 
Iuainted with wlint was pissing. He knew 
latwehada mil-road in Bavaria, which, 
jowever, he seemed to consider more ex- 
tensive thim it really is, and that a canal 
was fn progress to conntM^ tbe Danube and 
tbe Rhine ; and he told mo that be also in- 
teoded to construct a rail- way and an exten- 
sive canal. He was farther aware of the 
magni&cent buildings lately erected iii Bava- 
ria, and asked me whether 1 had seen tba 
works of tfae new Mosque he was buildina 
near his palace. Me asked me the if,e oT 
king ; and when he heard his majesty 
was stiUin the prime of life, and had iately 
visited Qreece and Asia Minor, he eiprcss- 
ed a wish of seeing that monarch at Cairo, 
which he said surpassed Smyrna in beautv. 
1 could not perceive tbe slightest lassituoe 
either in the appearance or manner of tlw 
Viceroy, aUhough he bad rigidly kept the 
fast ot the Ramadan through the whole 
dajr. and had t>een engaged Tour hours in 
giving audience to his ministirs, and subse- 
quently to the foreign ambassadors." 

Wo have had occasion to notice before 
that though Dr. Schubert is not a professed 
aatiquary, he is keenly sensible to ihA fed* 
logs which the remains of former days in- 
spire ; and his worV abounds with notices 
and descriptions of localities bearing sr> 
btstoricol interest ; but instead of fillii^g it 
withdryand technical details, interesting only 
to one class of readers, he m:ikee it agreea* 
ble to ali by intelligent research in every 
science, by the pnelry of his scmic descrtjH 
tions, and by the quaint and pleasant style of 
his general remarks. Hia description of 
the (ar-famed Sphynx will be interesting to 
all, while it might satisfy the cravings of any 
but the antiquary. 

" We ati^ped at the immeDse image of 
the Sphyns, whose size, compared witn tha 
human body, isas thepalm to the rush : it is 
situated in the vicinity of the great Pyra- 
mid, but oompared with this primteval w<H-k 
of Mempbilio greatness, appears only like a 
subordinate servant ; it is also the youngest 
of them, having been hewn out of the rock 
bv command of Totmes the Fourth, who 
reigned only 1446 years B.C. Tbe face of 
tbe mighty ruin hoa been mutilated by the 
barbarism of suoceeJing agesj tbe nose la 
com[delelT gone, having been formed proba- 
bly of a different material, and attached to 
(he head by a groove, which ia still visible. 
The rock underneath its neck has suffered 
from the Influence of the weather ; and of 
the altar and entablature found between tbe 
fare legs of the Lion, not a vestige remains, 
Ihe sand of the desert baving filled up every 
excavation. If there be any sepulchrai 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

SthnUri—Trmwli Ai M< Bail. 


CBves in or betow the Sphyni. th« entrance 
to them must ba b]rcavlHeBbidd«nmtiiKreat 
depth, for no nfverture is visi'tile either in ibe 
imagn or Ja tbe surFoundiog focka." 

We pans over the author's description of 
tbe great Pyramid, as well as some ingenioua 
remarks which accompany it, and bring him 
■t once to bis Jnaroey through the deiert, 
Chnteaubri^iad obscrvea that ''St. . Jerome 
waj B miD Tor whom nothing' but Roi 
the Desert was adequate ;" and we must pay 
our author the complimirnt to say that ht 

n this la: 

and trying siinaiion. The reader must n< 
expect any harrowing adventures or hair- 
breadth escapes ; the desnrt through which 
bis parly had to pass is, compared with some 
others, safe and easy af access. National 
characrer, moreover, is not a quality thrown 
aside with the dress, and accordingly, among 
Dovel and inleresting descriptions of scenery 
and incident, we find a pretty regular report 
of the daily raeaU. With the exception of 
a fe.v roughing^, our Sauih-Qarman has not 
forgotten tbe ccmforta of life, and has made 
himself, as we said before, perfectly at 

" As (he diurnal courae of tbe camel re- 
sembles that orihesunin aoiformtty and du- 
ration, so [ho two iodispennble RUsndantt 
of ibe desert assimilsteio tbe perl'eot sileooe 
of their movements; to svoid coHi^'"" '•" 
canieli march in aaingle straight li 
a considerable intervalbelween each, so that 
conversation is out ofthe question ; and thui 
we proceeded on our way In a silence by nt 
means inimicnl lo the feelings inspired br 
the acme. Bvery traveller, bamvar wil. 
ling to pay for alimentary comforla, flnda 
himself hers circuoucribed to mere nutrition. 
Our food consisted of tbe ship's biscuits and 
hard Arabian bread, which we had brousht 
with us for the first meal, and rice boiledin 
water for the second, or dinner which was 
eaten in the evening. We hod also a little 
ooSee without milk for breakikst, and occa- 
sionally, but very rarely, our rice was aea- 
•oned by the addition ofdried fruit, and still 
more rarely by the flesh of goats or rauttno, 
which always converted the meal Into a fes- 
tival. Wnier, sometimes mixed with date 
raki, constituted our beverage ; and If tbe 
eye was insensibte to ttie slime and other 
ifflpuritiea, and the palate to the bitter mIIb 
with which it was imprega^ed, it received 
tbe same relish from tbe burning tbirsl wbLob 
bupger communicated to the simple food< 
As, generally speaking, a place where there 
was a little vegetation was selected for our 
evening's re^t, iho rambling from one solita- 
ry mimosa tree lo another oflbrded In the last 
hours ofthe day the sanie amosemeni which 
under other circumstances would have been 
derived from inspeolii^ a beautifbl bolanio 

fardeo. Our alesp, notwitbalaodiDg tbe 
ardaesi of our couch, was as light aa the 

covering which surnnoded our bodies ; and 
the first lowing of the camels, anxious far 
the untyingof their compressed Joints, never 
fdiied to awaken us to tbe renewal uf our 
journey. At limes a bird which bad ita 
dwellJuK tn the prickly gum. tree would sing 
tbe reOex of ttte glory of the Lord, the re- 
turning light whkh reflected Itself In the 
dew ; or else the tiote of the swift Arabian 
grouse would sound from some adjiceat 
rock } and while the caravan was in motion 

sound of our voices." 

We hasten to the conclusion of our author's 
ardent aspirations, (be vicinity of Palestine. 

"It is scarcely necessary for me to state 
the first object of my attention after my ar- 
rival at tbe Convent of Sinni, The old prior, 
venerable from the spirit of love, conducted 
melo the church, si tuaCud, if tradition may be 
trusted, on tbe spot where Moses beheld tbe 
flaming bush and received the heavenly com- 
mission. There was no need for the implor- 
ing glance which tbe old man cast upon me 
as he bared bis feet) for I had already recal- 
led the worda whlcli had issned from that 
place, ' Take thy shoes fiom off thy feet, for 
the spot whereon ibou standeat is holy 
ground.* How long I remained kneeling in 
the dimness of the chapel I cannot tell ; it 
seemed like a resting of the soul after its 
matiy years of wandering, and tears may be 
shed, which speak not eternal snfferli^, but 
the joy of Heaven. I cooc-eive that every 
traveller wlm ascends Mount Sinai, and en- 
Joys as we did the praapect from its summit, 
will acknowledge that no other view in the 
world will bear the comparison. On three 
sides may bo seen the ever-varying sea 
which surrounds the ht^b lands of the Pe- 
tman peninsula ; beyond, but far distant, ap- 
pear the mountain ranges ofthe Arabian and 
Bgyplitn coast: no forest, or mountalil- 
nmdow, no munnitring brook or peaceful 
hamlet, soften and vulgarize tbe scene ; all 
la stem, grand, and sterile ; and if there is 
not tbe hurricane or the thunder-sionn, there 
__ a alienee scarcely leas Inpreaslre. The 
Desert of Sinai, with Ita phwacle of rocka. is 
one of tbe unmoved and remaining mark- 
atones of tbe third day of creation, Khen the 
Btsrnal saU • Let the waters under the hea- 

.— be gathered Ifigsther into ^ne place, 
and let tbe dry land appear.' It is a memo- 
rial of the time when the power of free Iti^ 
was not, and there exUted but that law 
which assigned to the crost of the earth ita 
formation, lo the water its affixed rimits. 

" Nowhere can the crystalline formation 
of rooks be non axieosively studied (ban 
bera, where poproO^cUgfthelater days of 
creation cover ani) conceal tbqauof the third ; 

here sandstone and lime are nowhere lo bo 
len and where the seams of wacke and ba- 
salt are seen running for miles like Mack 

4ns ttarovgh thestroeture ofthe mouatalna." 

Tbe suoceediug cfcaplera an filled with 

Imd ie t H ot u nf PhiUmpkie 

deicriptioiM of the eBvirom of Aitibs, ihe 
mountain of Hor, and other ptacaa Id or near 
Palestine. But we approach with our trav- 
eller the most important spot of his peregrin- 

"And see illuminated by the red glare of 
the erenine son, the Castle of Zion, the 
Temple ofMoriah. the city of Jerusalem it- 
■elf. 'God will provide hiroseir a lamb.' 
was the answer of the trusting patriarch 
when he approached the rock of Moriab to 
■Bcrifice ms only son, and the prophecy 
was fulfilled in the agony of the Son of Man 
on Golgotha, and bis last triumph on the 
Mount o( Olives. Tbe pilgrim who nearly 
two thousand years after beholds Jeru- 
salem at a distance, may well stand still to 
sontemplate the jiastand future movements 
of mercy and holiness which, now clear as 
the tear of penitence, were once seen dimly 
tboughincamate on yonder sun-gilt mount." 

We have not hitherto spoken of the atlas of 
forty drawings, which accompanies Dr, Schu- 
bert's work, and which has been published 
by M. Bemnlz, who accompanied the doctor 
during his pere^oation. This aniit must 
be passioaaie)^ fond of his professioD, and 
several passages of the work dilate upon the 
inconvenience to which he exposed himself 
fbr the sake of attending to his avocation. 
PersoDs familiar with moat of the spots repre- 
sented, praise highly the faithfuloeas of tho 

In the foregoing review we have wished 
to make every allowance for the feelings of 
an enthusiast ; hut truth compels us to oh. 
serve that these are ofieu greatly exaggerat- 
ed, and in several iastances absolutely ap- 
proacli the ridicubus ; as in the Hudibras- 
tic conversation and echoes of ihe two shores 
of ib« Hellespont, and the bombutic apos- 
tro[d)e to the Spl^x. 

AxT. ni.^l. Sdf.tnatvn. AnAddrewm- 
trodvelay U> the Frankhn Lteivni. By 
W. B. Ctianning. 8vo. Boston : 18S8. 

2, Record q^ Converiationi a% ihe GoiptU, 
htld U Mr. AteoU't School, tmfofiUng the 
Doctrine and Diieipiate of Human Cut- 
fun. 2 vols. l2mo. Boston ; 1846. 

It has not unfireqaently been made maUer of 
eonimont and sometltnes even of ridiculous 
reproach that America is yet destitute of an 
antiquity. Tfue it is ihst no baronial ruins 
ftown gloomily over hor soil, no feudal le- 
gends are aaaooiated with her graen aavoo- 
nahs, no wily cardinals, no soldier prelates 


are immartalizsd in her history. She has 
no codes and iostiiutions tracing llieir origin 
to immemorial time, and yet exercising a 
despotic sway over the miods of her present 
population. It may be that this stale of 
things is regretted even by the Americans 
themselves. We could fancy that amtdstall 
their Beir-gratulatioos on the equality of rank, 
and their pride in an all-pervading demo- 
cracy, there is still some pining for patrician 
ancestry ; aome vearoing towards venerable 
dust ; some envy of those European nations 
which would invest with eternal sanctity the 
good old regime that their barbarous prede- 
cessors condescended to palronize, 

Othera on the contrary say — " Happy 
America ! where the spirit which announ* 
ces constant development as its law is not 
curbed by the forms of vanished centories ; 
happy land! where growth is notheierodoxy, 
and progression impiety." 

Such language might some years ago 
have been to a certain extent true with re< 
spect to America ; we could wish that even 
now it may furnish a correct description of 
her general state. Nevertheless the tenden- 
cy (^ the Tnnsatlantians to adopt in many 
instances the prejudices and fblliee of older 
nations is only too apparent 

Simultaneously with the exhibitiiMU ot 
philosophic pr<^re8S to which we shall here- 
after have occasion to sdvert, manifestations 
of bigoted hostility have been revealed, 
which are but gloomy auguries of acounlry's 
mental and moral independence. 

If there be one name ideutiSed more than 
another with American literature it is.ihat of 
Dr. Cbanning. Well does bedeaervethe rank 
which he has acquired. Our admiration for 
the power which he displays in minute ana- 
lysis, in the depth of thought and the grace of 
illustration, is accompanied with a reveren- 
tial love for his moral dignity, and the con- 
stant benevolence which has invariably used 
for its own high purposes his diversified men. 
tal endowments. 

Amongst the benefits which Dr.- Chamitng 
has rendered his countTymen, there is none' 
greater than the inward direction which he 
has given to the public mind. 

Whilst we should be the lost to advocate 
popular apathy towards the political aspects 
of the day ; whilst we are bound to assert 
that there is a stem neeessiiy imposed up«i 
every member of a state to exen hb influ- 
ence in repressing aristocratic domination, 
or democratic mutiny ; whilst wo confess 
that no man ought to be indifferent to the 
character and tendency of those institulional 
laws by which heis governed — weare on the 
other hand bound to contend that the reform 
which most avails to ptodocs a people's bop- 


Progn$» in ^mtriea. 


pioess and elevaiioa ia rot the result of poli- 
tical interposiiion, or of national manifcstoea. 
True, the blood of Hampden and Russell 
was not idly ahed. Worthy of immorlal 
hoDour are they by whose righteous self-sac- 
rifice nalional redemption has been purchas- 
ed. But individual liberty and personal 
happiness belong to a higher sphere than 
that which ia autwervient to outward govern- 
ment. This last has but a negative power. 
Its province may be to restrain the exhibi- 
liona of crime. The creative power where- 
by intelligence and goodness are geDcrated, 
is Dot to be ideniificd with the o[>emtioQ of 
external circumstaDce. Neither loveliness 
of clime, nor prosperity in commerce, nor 
impartiality in the laws, have singly, or in 
the aggregate, the faculty of produciag hap- 
pinesa. The soul and its experiences are 
not mode up of amalgamated finite ingre- 
dients. These are but the lubordinate ele- 
ments which she combines at her pleasure, 
moulds at her will, and using lb em as she 
lists, ordains them to stand forth as her repre- 
sentatives — never as her rulers 

To return, however i — whilst we have 
been labouring only for political ameliora- 
tion, whilst the reform of institutions haa 
been the aole object of our labour. Dr. Chan- 
ning has pointed out the necesiity of internal 
improrement ; an improvement which can 
be realized by the human being at any time 
and under any circumstances. In this ulili. 
tarian age it is moat agreeable and refresh- 
ing to hear itie evolution of the moral and 
mental bcuities treated of as that which is 
eminently essential to man'a practical hap* 
pinesB. In "Seir-Cu!ture" occurs the fol- 
lowing passage : — 

■'Self-Culture is practical, or it proposes, 
as one of Its chief ends, to fit us for action, 
to make us efflcient in whatever we under- 
take, to train us to Drmness of purpoae, and 
to truitfulQeas of resource in common life, 
and especially in emergencies, in times of 
difficulty, danger, and trial. But passing 
over this and other topics, for which I have 
no time, I shall conRne myself to two 
branches of Self-Cultore, which have been 
almost wholly overlooked in the education 
of the people, and which ought not to be so 

" In looking at our nature, we discover 
among its admirable endowments, the sense 
or perception of beanty. We see the germ 
of this in every human being, and there is 
no power wlilch admits greater cultivation. 
and why ahould it not be cherished in alH 
It deserves remark, that the provision for 
this principle la infinite in ttie universe. 
There Is but a very minute portion of the 
creation which we can turn into food and 
clothes, or gratification for the body; but 
the whole croatlon may be used to minister 


to the sense of beauty. Beaut;^ is an all- 

Ervading presence— ii unfolds m the num- 
rless flowers of spring— it waves in the 
branches of the trees and the green blades 
of grass — it haunts the depth of the earth 
and sea, and gleams out in the hues of the 
shell and the precious stone. And not only 
these minute objects but the ocean, the moun- 
tains, the clouds, the heavens, the stars, the 
risingand setting sun, all overflow with beau- 
ty. The universe is its temple ; and those 
men who are alive to it cannot lin their eyes 
without feeling themselves encompassed by 
it on every side. Now this beauty is bo pre- 
cious, the enjoyments it givea are so refined 
and pure, so congenial with our tenderest 
and noblest feelings, and so akin to worship, 
that it Is painful to think of the multitude of 

earth and glorious sky, they were tenants 
of a dungeon. An infinite joy is lost to the 
world by the want of culture ofthis spiritual 
endowment. Suppose thai I were to visit 
a cottage, and see its walls lined with the 
choicest pictures of Raphael, and every 
spare nook filled with statues of the most 
exqulaite workmanship, and that I were to 
learn that neither man, woman, nor child 
ever cast an eye at these miracles of art, 
how shonld 1 feel their privation? how 
ahould I want to open their eyes, and to help 
them lo comprehend and feel the loveliness 
and grandeur which in vain courted their 
notice? But every husbandman is livinK 
In sight of the works of a Divine Artist; and 
how much would his existence be elevated, 
could he see the glory which shines forth in 
their forms, hues, proportions, and moral 
expression I I have spoken only of the beau- 
ty of nature, but how much ofthis mysteri* 
ous charm is found in the elegant arts, and 
especially in literature? The beat books 
have most beauty, and they win their way 
most surely and deeply into the soul, when 
arrayed in their natural and fit attire. Now 
no man receives the true culture of a man 
ia whom tbe sensibility to tho beautiful is 
not cherished ; and 1 know of no condition 
in life from which it should be excluded^ Of 
all luxuries, this is the cheapest and most at 
hand ; and It seems to me to be most import- 
ant to those conditions where coarse labour 
tends to give a grossness to the mind. From 
tbe diffusion of the sense of beauty in an- 
cient Greece, and of the taste for music in 
modern Oerraany, we Isarn tbat the peopla 
at large may partake of refined gratifica- 
tions which have hitherto been thought lobe 
necessarily restricted to a few." 

It is a good omen for the best intereiits of 
mankind that a man like Channing is heard 
pleading, not for better circumstances, not 
for fairer objects, not for legislative changes, 
as things which are most essential, hut for 
awakened perceptions, and fur cultivated 
faculties. Such philosophy is not, perhaps, 
entirely novel j for centuries there has been 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Indieatiotu of Philotapkic 


a ?ague surmise flitting across ihe surftice 
of society, that all that which ia exterior to 
men wujld asaunie a dilTereiK and fur nobler 
ujiect if diviner ioSuences were introduced 
into his existence. Gteiwraliy speaking, how. 
ever, auch ductrine hue been considered ra- 
ther as a pleasing speculation for poetical 
fancies, than aa a lofty faith to be realized 
in practice. It ia iherefore aa ennobling 
fipeclacle (o hehuld a man of the highest tal- 
eala ud the profoundest thought insisting 
upon the adoplion of that faith as a necessity 
of the most practical nature. It must now 
be declared most openly, that man has not 
the power to alter the current of eTcnts, but 
that he has the capacity to give to it a cka- 
raeUr. The oper.uion of circumstance, goi 
erned by its own inevitable law, can neither 
pause nor vary in accordoDce with the con- 
flictiag desires of men. Ambition must still 
suffer disappointment, avarice mijst still en- 
dure the bereavement of its treasures : but 
whether ambition and avarice shall still per- 
severe in their unquiet course depends upon 
the election of man himself. 

Urged by the same philosophic spirit aa 
that which actuates Channing, though with 
deeper experience and slill higher ai 
6nd Mr. Alcott labouring in the American 
field. The labours of Mr. Alcoll, as an edu- 
cator, are chronicled in " The Record of 
School," and developed in " The Doctrine 
and Disciplioe of Human Culture." For 
the practical results which have followed hii 
ezerlions we must refer the reader to tht 
first- mentioned work. We have to do with 
him as an Author and as a Philosopher. 

We have slated that the views of Mr. Al- 
cott are deeper and his aims higher than 
those of Dr. Channing. To this ciroum- 
Btuice may be traced the persecution to 
which Mr. Alcott haa been recently subject- 
ed ; Channing is just within the range of 
poptflar will. Although he travels far in 
advarce, he ia never out of sight. He ap- 
peals to the intellect. He requires) as the 
condilioa of success, persevering cultivalion 
rather than determined sacrifice. He in. 
sistsupon the improrement of what M, rather 
^n upon the advent of that which it U) come. 
He urges the result as a labour which man 
may accomplish by his own resolute iadusi ry. 
He points to the true goal, but he neither 
shows us the nearest way nor the most facile 
mode, of travel. He bids us cherish the sense 
and perception of beauty t — hut what beauty 
is; what is the saurce of its being; what 
the essential to its development, he falls lo 

Mr. Alcott, on the contrary, declares that 
the utmost improvement of a partial nature 
can never produce a worthy result ; that the 

most skilful training which conlempiates the 

perfection of a nature can only BCL-<imp)ish. 
its end in accordance with the law in that 
nature; that if it be evil and self-willed, its 
capacities, when unfolded Co the highest de- 
gree, will partake of its baneful character. 
Mr. Alcott requires the higher natures to be 
evolved in the lower, and rightly attributes 
the rectification of evil to the evolution of 
latent goqd. To create the good is beyond 
the sphere of education: its nighest power 
is to aid in the development of it. Mr. AI. 
cott estimates genius as- a talent existing in 
" men, inseparable from goodness as from 
. -jdom. Conscience is the voice of genius, 
and obedience to conscirnce is the only con- 
dition under which man can be moulded into 
imsge of his Maker. To the operation 
indwelling consi-ienco, and not to that of 
[ward science, Mr. Alcott looks for suo 
cess. He values not virtue at second-hand, 
he will have it from the source. Hear him 
declore this himself, in the introduction loan 
exquisite volume, entitled "Nature," pub- 
" ' d in Boston in 1836. 

sepulchres of the fatners. U unites biogra- 
phies, histories, and criildsm. Thu forego- 
ing generations beheld God and nature &ca 
to face ; we through our eyes. Why should 
not we also enjoy an original relation tu the 
universel Why should not we have a poetry 
and philosophy of insight and not of tradi- 
tion, and a religion by revelation to us, and 
not a history of theirs ! Embosomed rbr a 
season in nature, where floodBoTltfeatresnt 
around and throush us, ond invite us by tbe 
powers they supply to action, why should 
we grope among the dry bones of ilie past, 
or put the living generation into masquerade 
out of its fadea wardrobe! The sun shines 
to-dey also. There is more wool and Sax in 
the fields. There are new lands, new men, 
new thauehts. Let us demand our own 
works and laws and worship. 

'> Undoubtedly we have no quQalion" to 
ask which are unanswerable. We must trust 
the perfection of the creation so far, as to be- 
lieve that whatever curiosity the order of 
things bos awakened in our minds, the order 
of things can satisfy. Every man's condi- 
tion Is a solution in hieroglyphic to those in- 
quiries he would nut. He acts it as life, be- 
fore be apprehends it as truth. In like man- 
ner, nature ia already, in its forma and ten- 
dencies, describing lis own design. X>et us 
tuterrognti' the great apparition that shines 
so peacefully around us. Let us inquire to 
what end is nature ! 

■' All science has one aim, namely, to find 
a theory of nature. We have theories of 
races and functions, but scarcely yet a re- 
mole approximation lo an idea of creation. 
We are now so far from the road to truth, 
that religious teachers dispute and bale each 
other, and speculative men are esteemed u~ 


Progrtm m •/Sm*riea> 


■ouDd and frivoloiu. But, to a •onnd judg- 1 
blent, Ihe most abstract trulh is the most 

[iracticitl. Wheuever a true theory appears, 
t will be its own evidence. Its test 19, that 
It will explain all pht^oniena. Now many 
are thought not only unexplained but innx- 
plicable ; aa language, sleep, dreama, beasts, 

" Philosophically considered, the universe 
is composed of Nature and the Soul. Strict- 
ly Hpeuklng, therefore, all that Is separate 
rrom us, al^wbicb Philosophy distinguishes 
as the HOT xz, that is, both nature and art, 
all other n>en, and my own body, must be 
raubed under this name, hatdkb. In enu- 
msratiag the values of nature, and casting 
up their sum, I shall use the word in botn 
senses ; — in its comnion and ia Us philoso- 
phical import. In inquiries so general as 
our present one, the iuaccurscy Is not mate- 
rial ; no confusion of thought will occur ; 
NATVin, in the common sense, refers 


■ anchsnged br man; space, the air. 
the.riveri the leaf. Art is applied tolhe mix- 
ture of his will with the same things, as in a 
bou^e, a canal, a statue, a picture. But his 
operations, taken together, are so insignifi- 
cant; a little chipping, baking, patching, and 
washing — that In an Impression so general 
as that of ihe world on Ihe human mind, 
they do not vary the result." 

Would to Heaven that it were not neces. 
sary 10 import into England such truthful 
poetry as this. 

We cannot do (be reader better service 
than 10 quote from " Nature " those sen- 
tences which seem to us peculiarly illuslra* 
live of Mr. Alcott's mind. 


" Nature always wears the colours of the 
spirit. To a man labouring under culamiiy 
the heat of his own Are hath sadness in it. 
Then there ia&kind of contempt of theland- 
scapefelt by him whnhasjustlost by deaih 
a dear friend. The sky is less grand, as it 
shoots down over leaa worth in the popu- 


'' All the fads in natural history, taken 
by themselves, have no value, but ure bar- 
ren, like » single sex. Hut marry it to hu- 
man bistury, and it is full of iite. Whole 
Floras all Linnsus's and BuSbn's volumes, 
are but dry catalogues offucts ; but the most 
irivial of these fucts, the habit ot a plant, 
the organs, or work, or noise of an insect, 
applied to Ihe illustration of a fact in intel- 
lectual philosophy, or in any way associated 
to huinan nature, affects us in the nrtosi live- 
ly and agreeable manner." 


"Tho poet, the orsior, bred In the woods, 
whose senses have been nourished by their 
fair and appeasing changes, year after year, 


without design and without heed, shall not 
lose their lesson altogether in the roar of 
cities, or the broil of politics. Long hereaf- 
ter, amidst agitation and terror in national 
councils, in the hour of revolution, these 
solemn imager shall reappear in their morn- 
ing luslrs, as fit symbols and words of the 
thoughts which the passing events sball 
Bwaien- At the call of a noble sentiment, 
again the woods wave, (he pines murmur, 
the river rolls and shines, and the cattle low 
upon the mountains, hs he saw and heard 
them in his infancy. And with tfaesit forces, 
the spells of persuasion, the keys of power, 
are put into his hands." 


" We are thus assisted by natural objects 
in the expression of particular meoaings- 
But bow great a language to convey such 
peppercorn informations ! Did itneed such 
noDle races of creatures, this profusion oi 
forms, this hoat of orbs in heaven, to furnish 
ith the dictionary nnd grammar of his 
municipal speechi Whilst we use this 
graud epithet to expedite the aAirs of our 
pot and kettle, we feci that we have not yet 

tiut it to its use, neither are able. We are 
ike travellers using the cinders of a volcano 

to roast thbir eggs. 


''Imagination may be defined to be, the 
use whldi reason makes of the material 


" The best read naturalist, who lends an 
entire and devout attention to truth, will see 
that iheie remaini much to learn of his rela- 
tion to the world, and that it is not to be 
learned by any addition or subtraction or 
other comparison of known quantities, but 
is arrived at by untaught sallies of the spirit, 
by a continual self-recovery, and by entire 
humility. He will perceive thai there are 
fur more excellent qnalilies to the student, 
than preciseaess and infiilllbility ; that a 
guess is often more fruitful than an indisput* 
able, and that a dream may let us deeper 
Into the secret of nature than a hundred cob- 
c«aed «zperiments." 


" As fast as you conform yoor lift to the 
pure idea in your mind, that will unfold tta 
great proportions. As when the summer 
comes from (he south, the snow-banks melt, 
and tbe face of the earth becomes green be- 
lore it, so shall the advancing spirit create 
its ornaments, and carry with it the beauty 
it visits, and the song wtilch enchants it ; It 
shall draw beautiTul faces, and warm hearts, 
and wise discourse, and heroic acts around 
its way until evil ia do more seen.*' 

From the foregoing extracts the reader 
will perceive tiiai Mr. Alcoit holds tbe high- 

Digitized byGoOt^Ie 

Indicationa of Philoiopkic Progrest in America. 

est maaireslaticuiB of geoiua to lie the result 
of great tnoral development. An 
this which is more and more winninf; its way 
into the hearts of thinking meo. We i. 
loDg considered (he intellect as a mere 
presentaiive focolt^. tt portrayii the mi 
nature. Intellect is, in fad, an artist who 
may choose the line of colouring and the 
style of execution, hut not the character of 
object. When essential goodness or mo- 
rality prevails io the human being, the ob- 
jects to be expressed are the nublest which 
intellect can delineate. This last, standing 
in the presence of sublime originals, feels a 
sublime enlhuniasm which never aniraaled it 
in the representation of inferior archetypes. 
The truths to be illustrated are ofso glorious 
a character that the painter feels compelled 
to exercise the highost capacities of his aft. 
The more he gazes the more he loves. With 
no unholy worship he bends his gaze upon 
forms of light and love. He absorbs their 
beauty. He sits at their feet with serene 
devotion, and surrenders all self-activity ; 
appears as if be rather depicts what he 
than what he sees. The true artist is ever 
one with the ideal which he portrays. Not 
a few candidates for public fame have sue- 
ceoded by representing old opinions in a new 
form. Those who gjid [he common-piace 
are generally belter received ihan those whc 
place on record new facts in the history of 
human progression. Nevertheless, it is only 
when original objects are illustrated by 
gioal represeQtation that itie true mai 
geniiis is reveaied. Mr. Alcoit agrees with 
the poet, who declares that 

** Man'! soiil U mightier Ihui the opivene." 
According to our author the human mind 
includes all exterior nature. The phenome. 
na of creation are all representativeof mental 
phenomena first promulged in the human con- 
■cience. In proporiion, therefore, to man's per- 
fection is his capacity to appreciate the har> 
monywhich reigns through the universe. In 
excellence of character Is found the solutions 
of those enigmas which the great Sphinx, 
Nature, conslantty propounds. The infidel 
is bsfBed by the apparent contradict ions 
which the world offers to his view, for the 
simple reason that he is himself a contra- 
diction ; the intuition of good which exists in 
his mind being perpetually denied by the re- 
bellion of his intellect, Whenever religion, 
us a creed, is sincerely adopted, it is adopted 
because religion as a genuine experience is 
present to the mind of the believer. The 
intidel errs in seeking to reverse the law in 
creation, which requires inlellectual percep- 
tions to be dependent upon morol feelings, 
Ono of Mr. Alcolt'i coadjutors is Mr. 


Ralph Waldo Emerson. This gentleman, 
taking up the stigma which has been cast in 
the teeth of his countrymen, has called upou 
them lo be no more reflections of European 
minds, but to seek in the recesses of their 
own for originating power. Such power, he 
affirms, is resident in every human being. 
He requires that books shall no longer be 
quoted as texts, but adopted as suggesiions 
lo the creative impulse. In ibis respect the 
tone of his mind diSers widely from that of ifaa 
British literary public at the present period. 
We worship science; be idolises genius alone; 
he urges to originate; wolovealso toaccunitj- 
)ate. He prizesthelaw; we the phenomena 
which represent it. With him man is noble 
as the oracle of spirit} with us as the lexi- 
con of matter. 

It is true that one act of creation is mure 
glorious than a thousand acts of memory.- 
Yet we think JVfr. Emerson entertains 
almost too great a contempt for learning.' 
He who is acquainted with tho histoty and 
manners of ail nations, would never have 
acquired his knowledge had he not been in 
a great degree actuated by genius in the 
prosecution of his studies. Had the facta 
which he had accumulated been mere barren 
matter of detail, never would he have had 
resolution to pursue so uniateiesting ti 
route. But he, out of his own stores, has 
imparted a loveliness to the classic region 
of research, and the rites of Egypt and tbe 
mythology of Greece have typified to him 
one aspect of the human mind, a'ld illustrat- 
ed the operation of spirit in past ages. 
Genius is no less essential to the reader 
than to the author. Perhaps, however, it is 
lo a greater extent manifested in tbe latter. 

We cannot conclude these remarks with, 
out lamenting that Mr. Alcott has ntet with 
some persecution in consequence of the sen- 
timents which he has expressed. We are 
not surprised. To make moral excellence 
essential to the worthy revelations of genius 

■to tolerate, as a poet, no interesting rou^, 
romantic profligate, but to require purity 
of character as the only title to that august 
ippellation — to exclude from mind's chivalry 
all who are not honourable or valiant — is a 
course which must necessarily be opposed 
by the messes whum such a prohibition af< 
Dare wc then express for Mr. Alcolt, 
personally, either pity or loBrel? The morp 
faithful he is, the less need has he of our 
sympathy or applause. Human praise ia 

ly worthy when it re.expresses divine ap* 

. Let the devout worshipper ascend 


the holy mountain, and there sacrifice 

Is. The propitious thunder shall greet 
attentive ear. It matters little whether 
the vales below reverberate the sound. 

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Arehiitciure at- Home and Abroad. 


Art. IV.— 1. ArckiUctoiti»eht» Album, redi- 
girl MM ArMt^en-Verein tu Berlin 
(Architectural Album, edited by ihe Ar- 
chitectural Socieiy, Berlin.) Erstes, 
Zweiles Heft. Potsdam, 1836. 

2 AUgmeme Bavxeitmig. Von C. L. F. 
FBreler. 1836-9. 

a. Dvr RiOer Leo vo* Kkiae %otd utuert 
Kurut. Von R. Wiegmann, Arcbiteckt. 
Svo. Dosseldorf, IB39. 

4. ArcUleettarit Ihmetliea. Von A. de 
CbaieauDeuf. London, 1SS9. 

5. ArcAeakii Ratnvya Sotehinenit/a. 1. 
Gogota. (ArabeaqueB, or Miscellaneous 
Piecei, by Iran Oogol.) 3 vols. St. 
Petersburg, 1836. 

Raii.boi.ds and Bteam-engiaes are the order 
of the day : id much so that of late there has 
beenqnileaglut of publicBlioDs, theoretical and 
practical, braring upon those sulnects. Ac- 
cordingly, not only is Civil Engineering 
'looking up' and reinforcing its corps daily, 
but those who make a profession of Jt, or ont 
of it— 08 the case may be, — are lookiog up 
tooy and at the same time begin some of 
them to look down upon arcnitecture as 
something comparatively trivial, and requir- 
ing less menial powers- We are not going 
to question the importance of civil engineer- 
ing as regards nations) industry, or the pros- 
perity of a country : nay, without debaling 
that point at all, we will allow that it ia (ao 
far) of greater and more obvious intrinsic 
value to the community ; and also that by 
creating and diffusing wealth it may indirect- 
ly tend to promote every branch of civilisa- 
tion, and the fine arts themselves among the 
rest. All that we contend for ia, that such 
studies are altogether distinct from art, and 
belong to an entirely difierent sphere. 

Fuily agreeing wiih the doctrine enunciot- 
ed humorously, yet perhaps very seriously 
intended, by Aothus, the entertaining ouihor 
of Esskiuist, we hold that though it may in 
the first inMance emanate from necessity, art 
invariably manifests itself in the superfluous, 
or, we might term it, the tuper-neeessarjf; 
— between which epithet and ' unnecessary' 
there is tkssuredly considerable diSereace. 
Practical science and art may therefore be 
said to stand in the same mutual relalioo as 
prose and poetry — the opposite poles of the 
positive and the imaginative. The analogy 
wilt appear strengthened when we observe 
that, contrary to what would seem the natur- 
al progress from the necessary to the su^er 
necessary, poetry is generally the first form 
in which ibe intsllectuiil development of a 
people displays itself; and so also art is, if 
not the very first, one of the first phases of 

VOL x«v 3] 

civilisation ; in advancing beyond which, 
the imaginative is abandoned as something 
superfluous and extravagant, and art, instead 
of being cultivated for its own sake. Is chiefly 
valued as administering ornamentally to 
what is directly useful. 

Whether it ba matter for regret or not, 
we cannot help fencyine that society has 
advanced — or retrograded — to that stage of 
civilisation when, sobered down by experi- 
it resigns the workings of imagination 
ire dreams and chimeras, and betakes 
itself to the positive end practical. The Mid- 
dle Ages employed — perhaps wasted — their 
enei^ies upon rearing cathedrals and other 
piles exhibiting all the prodigality of art ; the 
nineteenth century, iofinilely more rational, is 
devoted to railroads and canals, bridges and 
' innela ; while ait must be content with the 
-umbs that fall from tho table of utility. 
Such at least is pretty nearly the state of 
things among ourselves : nor is i; at all uona- 

~ )T, because tvhen all the elements of socie- 
ty in thia country are decidedly prosaic, and 
calculation prevails in everything, it can hard- 

' B otherwise. Not only has the bulk of 
puUic no sympathy with art, but the 
small section ofit which has, is too lukewarm 
or indolent to exert itself effectively ; added 
to which art numbers vary few generous and 
devoted adherents among its own followers. 
The spirit of trade — which then becomes 
base, unworthy, and degrading — influences 
more or less, it ia to be feared, every one of 
the fine arts in this country, and architecture 
full as much as, if not more than, the rest. As 
an art, this latter has been reduced almost to 
a system of copying ; and it has in conse- 
quence become a convenient refuge far num- 
bers who enter upon it merely as a lucrative 
profession where practical cleverness and 
activity, and in bet any talent but for busi- 
ness-like plodding, may very well be dispens- 
ed with. Nowonder therefore if we so fre- 
quently find all Ibe feedings of the artist mer 
ged in those of the trader ' or so much mean 
personal rivalry indulgeo in, almost to the 
exclusion of all generous emulation. No 
wonder the public near so ma ny complaints 
of manoeuvring, intriguing, and jobbing, 
through which works of importance have 
been confided to men of inferior talent, and 
the best opportunities comparatively thrown 
aivay. Unless, indeed, toauch mismanage- 
ment, coupled with tbeaupineness both of the 
profession ond the public, to what must we 
ascribe the disadvantageous contrast exhibit- 
ed by ao many of our architectural undertak- 
.ings in comparison with similar labours ia 
several continental slates, whose resources 
are so greatly inferior to our own 1 It can. 
not be alleged that opportunities ofthekind 


JtnhiUchirt at Hawu and ^bnad. 

an mnch more tare in tbii country thui id 
any other ;— or, if oo, the greater care should 
be taken to turn them to the utmost ac- 
count :— neverthelesB il a iodisputoUe that 
in geoeral our public edifices are neither 
commensunUe with the character of such a 
metropolis aa London, nor will bear a com- 
parison even with some which adorn several 
minor capitals abroad. 

We should be open to reprehension were 
we to disguise the truth ; and by over-esti- 
mating our own achievements io art, lead per- 
sons at home to suppose that ws need not 
endeavour to surpass what we have already 
produced. If then we express an opinion 
the reverse of flattering to our national 
pride, it is certainly not with the view of dia. 
couroging, or of creating useless dissatisiac- 
tion, but of stimulating to greater energy for 
the future. Instead of attempting to console 
ourselves for failures, by depreciating what 
baa been done in other countries, the wiser 
and more ingenuous course would be to prO' 
fit by those failures and the example of oih' 
there, and to exert ourselves more vigorously 
than ever. Architecture should be rescuM 
from those trammels snd fatal influences 
which have checked and stunted it at home. 
Wa do not say it is from inferiority of talent 
that we are unable to compete with other 
countries in the character of our public 
monuments ; but if such be not the 
with at least equal talent, and far superior 
meaus, most of our recent public works fall 
very short of contemporary labours abroad ; 
there is all the more reason for suspecting 
that it is owing to a very defective or very 
pemicioua system, to unpardonable want of 
energy in those who possess talent, or must 
culpable negligence, incompetency, or abuse 
of power on the part ofthose wbohave con- 
trol over such works. In short it becomes 
but too evident that there must be ' a screw 
loose' somewhere. 

It is useless attempting to disguise that 
such is the real state of things in this country 
as regards architecture. We might possibly 
delude ourselves into the idea that our build- 
ings eclipse their foreign rivals ; but we cao' 
not impose upon foreigners, who, when they 
come over to this country, will indulge in 
comparisons not altogether to our advantage. 
Those who stay at home may remain ignor- 
ant of the insignificant general character of 
many of our recent churches and other pub- 
lic structures, but then they may also ask 
how it happens, if we have achieved of late 
any really magnificent architectural under, 
takings, that the merits of such are not made 
generally known by means of published de- 
, signs. Even F&rstcr's Bauzeiiung, which 
professes to deaoribe the chiof archilectunl 

moDUBMnts not of Gerawtiy alooe, bat all 
Europe, and which b« ^ven designs illu» 
tniting Ca nova's Church at PasugDa,tbe 
Aroo delle Pace at Milan, the Arc de I'Etoile 

Paris, tbe Alexander column at Peters- 
burg, and several other works of that claai, 
has not since its commencement furnished a 
single example of thakind from this country, 
although it evidently pays great attention 
to whoiis goingon here, and has from tune 
to time described very minutely our princi- 
pal railroads and similar works. The only 
public building of this country introduced 
therein is Hungerford Market ; which al- 
lltough an edificeof considerable extent, and 
north notice for some constructive details, is 
by no means a particularly favourable speci- 
men of architectural design. Whether this 
neglect of Et>glish architectural produotiona 
is accidental or intentional, it is not calculat- 
ed to extend our reputation abroad, or im- 
press foreigners with the idea that any of our 
recent buildings can fairly compete with 
their own. Neither are we ourselves at all 
solicitous to vindicate the character of our 
own school, by awarding to the architects of 
other countries the means of comaanngaud 
studying any of our most successful buildings. 
Scarcely one of our living architects baa 
cared to publish hie designs ;* — that iatosay, 
ofbuildinga actually executed by him, though 
several have published collections of designs 
for villas, cottages, and things of (bat stamp, 
—saleable commoditiea, and, (or tbe most 
part, manufactured lilce Peter Pindar's ra- 
zors, merely to selL 

Tosay this is astonishing would be eon- 
Iraiy to our real opinion, since il is so easily 
explained that scarcely anybody can beat a 
loes to account for it ; but then what doea 
the fact itself declare I why first, that the 
demand [or architectural publications similar 
to those of Schickel, Klenze,Moller,Ottmer, 
and others, is so exceedingly small aa to 
amount to a prohibition oftbem where a ftir 
remunerating profit must be looked to ; and 
next, that none of those who have made mo- 
ney by their profession care to expend it in 
publishing examples of their best works, at 

• Onlj two exceptions oceiiT toai; Iht fint ii 
Mr, LsiDg, tlie ori(pna1 trchiteet of the OostoDi- 
HoOM, the other, Mr. PoulMoBe. of Plf muDth ; bat 
unfortuiulelj neither tha publiostioii of tba one 
□or of the nther ii olculated to conve; & fsvoDnbls 
opinion of Eneliih taite, either u rcstrds the wb- 
jscts of their pUtei or the style in which they ua 
•agnvml. Hr. Faiditone^ Greek krchiteotnre Is 
d^tonUj^ inalnid ; doll, meohsniosi aopiei«f Da. 
— Ionic cMumne, without a lingle touch of oii. 



ArtkiUehtn <U Homt and jtbroad. 


the huani of poeuDiary lom t7 tc doing- 
Ai B matter of pTudsDce this may pnn with- 
out reproach, and it ia therefore hoped that 
BO one will take the mention u auch. But 
it certeinly does not indicate any thing either 
of that liberal feeling, generous ambition, or 
■rdent attachnent to professional sladtes 
wfatch ought to characterize the architect, 
•upponng him to been artiat in the true mean' 
ing of the word. On the other hand, an ar 
ohitectural work tfest is not strictly practiciil, 
meets with very Bttle encouragement ftom 
profesHOnai men, while one that is not in 
tome degree a picture-book also, meets with 
■a tittle from any other class of purchasers. 
The cooeequence is that scarcely any thing 
whatever of a purely architectural character 
ia now brought out in this country, and the 
few who have any taste for works of that 
daas are obliged to aupply themselves fVom 
ibecoDtineot. Perhaps we should not be ez- 
ceedittgly wide of the mark, were we to say 
dial for some of the reputation they have 
obtained, the publications of Schinkel and 
Others are indebted to their having no Eng. 
li^ rivals, no competitors from this country 
to participate with them the attenfion or aa- 
ffli ration of the European public. This is] 
Ae mora mortiffing as the time was when ' 
England had a hieh character upon the cou- 
tinrat for many s^eodid architectural publi- 
cations, tati n^iob earned for her a wide 
celebrity in that branch of art. At present 
the case is revened. Eagltsb libraries may 
enrich their architectural stores by the ad- 
dition of foreign works ; but foreigners arc 
net likely to be overstocked with similar vo- 
lumes now lirom us. 

Not only has this branch of puUication 
ao fallen ofi* among ourselves of late years 
as to be almost dwindled away altogether; 
but — what is not the least extraordinary 

Ert of the matter, — the decline seems to 
ve been in no degree retarded by (ha es- 
tablishment of the Royal Institute of Briiiah 
Architects ; though it might have been im- 
agined that the formation of such a society 
would have almost immediately given a 
fresh impetus to the study of architecture, 
■nd by this time at least have revived a taste 
for it, and difiiised it more and more widely. 
Such, however, neither is, nor is likely to be 
the case. Whatever influence for good the 
Inititute may possess, it seems to lake care 
Hmt it shall not extend beyond its own wslls. 
We have been unnble to learn that it has re- 
formed a single professional abuse, or made 
an exertion towards doing so, except one 
very faint effort to correct some of the most 
crying sins of the present notoriously bad 
system of competition, on which tdbject a 
Report was drawn up; but deterred from 

further pioceedings by the difficulties and 
objections started, the advocates for reform 
showed their faint-hearted ness, and suffered 
the whole matter to fall to the ground at 
once. One thing which we did expect 
rather confidently was, that the Institute 
would at all events establish an annual exhi- 
biiion of architecture— both models and' 
drawings — on a suitable scale ; if from no 
other motive than to rescue their art from 
the step-dame clutches of the Royal Acade- 
my, and to prove to the public that it has 
claims of its own upon their notice; hut we 
fear we gave ihem credit for more zeal and 
spirit than they possess. We have, indeed, 
been assured that the Institute have done and 
contbue to do all that is in their powers— 
that means, not will, is wanting. It may be 
so ; but as that all seems just tantamount to 
nothing, the natural conclusioa is that the 
Institute is altogether powerless for good, 
and that there is not the remotest chance of 
its tending in any degree to promote or 
benefit the art for whose sake it was estab. 
I i shed. 

Could we even discern an increased spirit 
of emulation, more application, more dili. 
gent study, and the endeavour to gain over 
public attention to architectural suhjeclsand 
drawings, it would Iw something: instead 
of this, there has been a visible falling off 
in the architectural part ol the Royal Aca- 
demy's exhibitions for the last two or three 
seasons. Directly, indeed, Ibts circumstance 
does not say much against the members of 
the Institute or those who stand highest in 
the profession, because very few of ibem 
ever exhibit at all; but then indirectly it 
lays a great deal, since it affords a tolerably 
^lain proof of their apathy, and bow unwil- 
ling they are to incur any trouble or ex- 
pense for the purpose either of vindicating 
the characti^r of their art, or affording in- 
struction 10 others. In nhort it looks as if 
there existed a fer greater desire to confer a 
cheap kind of importance on tbe profession, 
than to advunce the art itself, or make the 
least personal exertion or persona! sacrifice 
to that end. 

Very sorry should we be to involve all 
indiscriminately in such censure ; yet taking 
the members of the profession generally, 
they certainly do not pursue it with any 
of that high and generous feeling which 
ought to animate the followers or art ;— - 
some of them show no motives but those of 
traders, and therefore a spirit more ignoble 
than these, whose dealings neither require 
nor admit of the con-amore principle that 
ought to actuate (he 6thers. 'fo many it ii 
an inexplicable mystery that modern art 
generally, with alt aids and applianeet, lacks 



^Tchiltdvre ai Home and Abroad. 


the energy and generous quality which 
stamped k in former ages. Artists endea- 
vour to account for this by throwing the 
hiame upon the public, and its want o( a 
proper sympathy Tor art. This doubtless 
may be one among other concomitant 
causes; but the chief; we should say — and 
one as balerul as all the rest put together, 
lies with artists themselves ; being notbiog 
more nor less than want of that eathuiiaHm, 
that earnest devotedness to art fur its own 
sake, without which nothing leally great 
can be accomplished. Without enthusiasm 
talent will seldom amount to mote ^han cle- 
verness) which for a while may sstisry, and 
earn for its possessor a short-lived reputation 
more or less brilliant : but it is by no means 
of ibe vivifying influence of enthuaiaNm that 
lalenl becomes genius. Take away that 
ennobling principle, exclude the higher mo- 
tives, the loftier impulses proceeding from it, 
and art, even when successfully pursued, 
becomes a spleudid, honourable drudgery; 

Serverled from %d end to mere means. Uo- 
oubledly there still remains behind a po- 
tent stimulus, and oue in the opinion of the 
world quite sufEcieol to urge on to any 
achievement, however arduous, seeing that 
it is the main-spring of human actions 
human energies. Nn vert he leas we hold it 
to be a fotal error — one pregnant with mis- 
chiefs, puzzling to account for, to imagioe 
that such Btimuiua will suf&ne in art. The 
enthusiasm of monev-getling stands in direct 
Opposition to that otDer kind of enthusiasm, 
which H BO greatly wanted, while of this 
there is far too much. Where ordinary 
selT-ioteresl becomes tbo motive inducing a 
man to attach himself to art, art becomes to 
him little more than a taskmaster, and will 
be beloved accordingly just in proportion to 
the wages oblained. In what degree these 
remarks appiy to architects, quite as much 
asi if not mora than to any other class of 
BTtista, we shall leave the reader to judge. 
Although those who follow it professioi 
ally are by no means backward in hinting, 
whenever opportunity oSers, that architec- 
ture is not properly encouraged — and so far 
ihev are righl^ because for patronage 
really beneficial to art, it must be at 
panied by discernment and taste; — Do ibey 
themselves encourage, or ^n any way pro- 
mote or advocate that acquaintance with the 
art, — that study of it on the part of others 
without which there can not exist any real 
taste or difcernmeot, or any proper sympa- 
thy with it in the public f Do they endea- 
vour to facilitate such study, either direcily 
or indirectly t We may aay at once ihai 
they certainly do not, but on the contrary 
too evidently set their faces against every 

attempt that way tending. Peraooa like 
ourselves might naturally opine that archi. 
teciB would gladly promote every scheme 
aiming to popularize the Etudy of their art, 
and to invest it with interest for the many ; 
simply because it is for their own interest 
that the many should appreciate it and enjoy 
it, and, relishing it at intelligent, encotmg* 
it intelligently in turn. No such thing : if, 
indeed, sympathy could be kept within the 
bounds of stupid wonder, or criticism never 
extend beyond compliments and harm- 
less tivaddle, there would he no very great 
danger: but to teach piople to think for 
themselvi'.p, and form opioions of their own ; 
to enable them to discriminate between the 
plagiary and the man of original ideas,-^ 
between the servile copyist, and the studious 
nrlist i — this would be highly imprudent aiul 
dangerous. Criticism, especially crilicisn 
based upon reasoning ana argument, and 
which supports itself by something mors 
than vague allegalioDS, is, as much as pos> 
sible, to he discDualeoanoed, whether a posi. 
tive check can be put to it or noL Of such 
criticism the majority of the profession ap- 
pear to have an instinctive dread, and not 
without reason; as few of their works will 
abidt^ its scrutiny. Some, if not the major- 
ity, consider it quite a presumption on the 
part of any writer not belonging to the pro- 
fession, to form— or at least express any 
opinion. He is. told that he ought taconfine 
his opinions to his own private circle; 
which might just as well be said to every 
one who takes up his pen to communicate 
his ideas on any other subject. At the pre. 
sent day, however, most perwns faocy that 
errors and prejudices are more likely to be 
exposed, and truth elicited, bypromotiog 
discussion than by stifling it. If error be 
propagated by one writer, let it be exposed 
by others. But architects, it would seem, 
adopt a most ungracious dog-iD't he-manger 
principle, for they neither care to instruct 
the public themselves, nor that any one else 
should assume thai office for them. 

It is hardly to be supposed that tuch feel- 
ings and seniimenls are openly expressed by 
the membera of the profession, even among 
themselves: this would be too daring an 
avowal- Yet that such feelings are really 
entertained may without difiicully be gather- 
ed from a variety of circumstances, which, 
though when taken singly they appear in- 
considerable, when put together fumiah 
strong and conclusive evidence as to the 
real slate of the case. 

Should we, however, have been Ubouring 
under au hallucination of mind in respect to 
what we have just declared, we should feel 
happy to be undeceived, and to learn that, 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


Ardutadun at Homt and Abroad. 

let appearaoces be whu tbey my, the pro- 
fession are Dol only well diaposed but even 
eagur to promote whatever is calculated to 
briug architecture fori?ard aod remove the 
prejudices now exiitiug agaiiui it, by show- 
)Dg i;8 value merely as a libe^l study aod 
occupation of Uwte ; and /or which if it be 
not calculated, it unjustly usurps the title of 
a fine arU 

Great is the hoooui claimed for architec- 
ture aa au art, — and some have gooo so far 
OS to assert for it a right of precedeocy over 
the rest. Aa soon as we attempt to approach 
it aa such, to inquire into its character and 
powera, to make ourselves acquaioled with 
Its peculiar language, its rules and idiom, 
we are either driven back as profane in- 
truders rashly seeking to penetrate iuto 
mysteries reserved for the initiated, or are 
told that practical knowledge is everything: 
iu other words, that architecture after all is 
not so much a fine &s a mechanical art, and 
that much of the practice consiats merely of 
routine and details, which have no more to 
do with art than has the engrossing o( a 
deed. Such view of it is somewhat modeat 
— not to call it an utter abandonment of the 
high preteoaioDs cUimed for architecture as 
a noB art. In this latter quality, setting 
aside all the rest, we presume it will not be 
denied thai it still retains enough to entitle 
it to something more than a brevet rank, as 
one of the fine arts bj/ courtstyonly. Either 
it has the powers and attributes of a fine 
an, or it has not : in the former case it ap- 
peals to the sensibilities and sympathies of 
all, and is capable of being studied and un- 
derstood accordingly, whether its mechani- 
cal and scienirfic operations be comprehend- 
ed or otherwise. In the second case, the 
sooner the world is undeceived, bv being 
told that it is exceedingly limited in ils 
KSthetic capacity ; that however important 
as a science and indispensable as a useful 
art, it has but little of either the powers or 
the qualities of a line one, — the sooner this 
is said the better : a great deal of miscon- 
ceplion and of consequent misunderstanding 
would be prevented ; and by abandoning all 
pieiensians to ihe name of artists, archiiecle 
would at once escape the responsibility at- 
tached to such title, and the reproach of 
doing nothing to Justify if. 

When it aspires lo be something more 
than mere building (which proposes to it- 
self nothing beyond utility, security, and 
strength,) science, knowledge, and skill be- 
come merely the anzilisry means of which 
architecture avails itself for some higher 
end, — means indispensable aa such, but 
Otherwise unimportant, and of no more ac. 
count with regard to ihe sstlteiic value of 

the production accomplished through them, 
than the mould or the process of casting to 
the bronze statue so formed. 

We have then a right lo demand some- 
thing infinitely more thao the mere satis- 
fsplory. Science becomes as nothing if 
there be not also refined taste : 'it is of no 
avail to say that all the conditions of con- 
structive skill, durability, convenience, eco- 
nomy, are fulfilled, if there be not also beau- 
ty j or that the architect has performed his 
task to perfection as a builtfer, if he baa 
shown no power, no imagination as an artist, 
and bis work be destitute of oistheiic cbarm, 
Atcbiiecis are rather in the habit of throw, 
ing dual into the eyes; neither are they them- 
selves particularly clear-sighted, hut rather 
in the unfortunate condition of not being 
able lo see the- wood fbr the trees. The 
material — the matter and its forms, merely 
as such, are to them every thing; the 
ffisthetic, the ideal, — the forms as expressions 
of beauty, as nolhing. They regard the 
latter much as no anatomist may contem- 
plate a beautiful human figure, as a system 
of bones and muscles. So far his profes- 
sional knowledge seems rather to blunt the 
sensibility of the architect than to render it 
more acute, unless such unfortunate tendency 
be carefully guarded against by cherishing 
opposite feelings, snd by cultivating Ihe 
poetry of the nrL 

Perhaps we dwell upon this ungrateful 
topic rather too loug ; yei what we have 
said may be so far productive of good as lo 
induce the question whether architecture as 
now generally practised be not greatly over- 
valued. This question, together with an 
apprehension of its consequences, might pos- 
sibly rouse up the profession more effectually 
ihan anything else can do. 

Turning our eyes to other countries, we 
must say that, as far as appearances go, 
architecture is pursued in a &r better and 
more liberal spirit abroad than at home. 
One favourable symptom is, that infinitely 
greater encouragement is there given to 
architectural publications ; which not only 
find a readier ssle, but command greater 
attention. Instead of being for the most 

!iart psssed over in silence or else impatient- 
y dismissed in a few common-place para- 
graphs which chiefly show that the reviewer 
is at a loss what opinion to express, works 
of this class are of^n carefully reviewed. 
Nay, we have occasionally met with far 
more satisfactory notices of English publi. 
cations of the kind in foreign Journals, than 
in any of our own ; — such for instance as 
Uurphy'a Arabian Antiquities of Spain, a 
work that for any signs of ils eiislence oc. 
curring in nviews may be said to have 

Digitized byGoOgle 

^ftktkehtn id Bmm mti Abnmi. 

dropped dead from tk« pren, while ao many 
ephemeral worke— long ago completely 
forgoUeo, have been ugherad into the world 
with Ihe most megnificeet trumperings. 
To take a more receet ezunple, Joaes's 
Alhambra bu &red no better than Mui^ 
phy'a Antiquiliea. It must be coDfeased, 
indeed, that both vK worka ralher of curi- 
osity and luxury,, than practical utility ; 
atill they deaerre alteation IVom criticiam, 
and are auch aa etery architect ought lo pos- 
seaa. ir therefore, with the ability to pur- 
chase, a profeaaional man abHaina from so 
doing, be muat not Teel surprised at being 
eonaidered — not ectualJy sordid perhaps, 
but guiliteas of any excess of enthusiasm. 
Again, while Hope's History of Architec- 
ture, and other works of that kind have been 
translated into either French or Oeiman, if 
not both) very rarely indeed is auch compli- 
ment Telnmed by our translating snything 
tiimilar from other languages. We do not 
mwak of woAs whose chief interest liea in 
their engravinga, and are not to be repro. 
duced without rery great expense, but of 
tiiDse which consist nearly, if not altogether, 
of letter-press, and would therefore be addi- 
tionit to the stock of our architectural lile- 
nture. We need only mention the names 
of Stiegliiz, Busching, Hundeahagen, Hirl, 
Rumohr, and Racknitz ; nod if it be said 
that their writings are very well known here 
in the original to all whose studies lie in 
that direction, we mwt beg leave to doubt 
the fhct strongly. Coupling therefore all 
this wiih what has been previously said in 
the earlier part of our article, no very flat- 
tering conciuaion can be drawn from it aa 
to the feeling with which architecture is 
pursued in this country, in comparison with 

The results are accordingly : therefore, 
however much it is matter of regret, tt 
(Teases to be one of wander that archilec' 
lure itsetf is not in thai flourishing condition 
among ua whicit it otherwise might be ; nor 
can the inferiority be attributed to want of 
encouragement, if by encouragement no 
more ia lo be understood than employment 
and emolument. But, has not opportunity 
after opportunity been frittered away 1 and do 
we not aiill adhere to the same mischievous 
ayatem, in spite ofao many tessona of dearly- 
purchased experience ? Could the blame of 
these failurea we are doomed repeatedly to 
witness, be thrown either upon the inade- 
quacy of otir means, or a rigorous spirit of 
economy, even this would be less humiliat- 
ing to our national taste, though more mor- 
tifying to our national piide. Yet this poor 
consolation is denied us ; for if there is a 
good deal of parsimony, there is also no lit- 

tls prodigality :— in abort, a kfad of pahry 
peddling ecotromy, owing to which we man. 
age to pay quite aa much (or what ia deficient 
as a work of art, as with judgment and 
taste would hare done honour lo the coun- 
try. A paltiy stinginess is often suflered to 
interfere and main) a design by clipping and 
paring it down in parts, as thougti it were 
UDirfiportant whether completed according 
to (he original intention or not, and any- 
thing might be omitted at random. If the 
design has been properly studied at firsf,^ 
and if net, it ought not to be adopted, — auch 
a process is manifeatly absurd, Ifdesirable 
to render it less expensive, the proper way 
ia to modify the whole, ao that every part 
shall atill be in due keeping, and no incon- 
sistency of character, no deficiency of any 
kind be perceptible. 

That a belter average taste is now estab- 
iiahed among iis,thaa that at the close of tbo 
last and eommeocement of the present cen- 
tury, we do not deny ; still it falls greatly 
short of what it might and would be had it 
been allowed to go on progressively in- 
creasing in stalnre and in strength. Ow- 
ing to ihe great impulse which has been 
given to building, since the peace, we have 
now, throughout the country, a show of very 
respectable bits of architecture — things irf 
ralher ambiguous or negative merit ; — Go- 
thic made nest, Grecian made homely, Ita- 
lian aoflened down to insipidity. In art our 
ambition is of a staid, modest, and reason- 
able kind. Among all ourrecent works we 
have few of monumental character, that is, 
such as testify honourably to the power and 
taste of the age in which they were produc- 
ed:— scarcely anything that is roally im^ 
posing in noint of scale, and not less im. 
posing ana dignified in style. Ourclassica) 
school is mechanically correct, frigid, and 
mannered ; we muat not look to it for geni- 
ality of conception, masteriy originality, or 
happiness of invention. What beauties it 
gives ua are almost altogether borrowed ;■— 
transcripts of good originals as regards in- 
dividual features, which are, however, sel- 
dom more then merely put together, instead 
of being so combined as to produce an en. 
aemble with one and the same spirit pervad. 
ing every part, a kindred feeling diffusing 
itself throughout. Owing to an unibrtuttate 
littleness and feebleness of manner, build- 
ings large in themselves do not make an 
impression at all proportionate to their size, 
but are reduced to the minimum of effect. 
For grandeur and majesty of aspect Buck- 
ingham Palace will hardly bear comparison 
with that lately erected at Brunswick ; and 
which though by no means unexeept ion able, 
proves Ottmer to be aa superior to Nash, 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


•Sniaitdvnalliom^Mtd ^hwii. 


as Brmuwick i» inferior to Great Britab. 
What the fornnr looks like, or rather does 
not look like, we all kwiw too well ; but 
the other has a princely air that beapeaka 
ibe resideDce of a aovareigo. 

Contraats of thla kind are likely to ps»s 
tbi invidioua, more eapecially when they 
happen to bs unfavourable to ouraelvea ; 
yet the best way of preventing such is by 
taking a aalutary lesaon from tbero for the 
fuiure, and endeavouring to be first where 
we DOW stand alnxiat last. \i, however, 
only to ahow that we wish to be impartial, 
and do not blindly defer to the authority of 
naiqea and reputations, we shall here be- 
stow soma notice on the K5ningsbati, or 
new palace at Munich, numerous plans and 
oiber engravings of which may be seen in 
the Ba'izeitung for 1637. We need scarcely 
disavow any prejudice against Klenze, for 
we have bran charged with beln^ much 
loo favourably diepoeed towards him ; our 
comments, therefore, stand a chance of be- 
ing received as free from bias either way. 

The principal, or Indeed, only &9ade, 
namely, that forming the north side of the 
Haz-Iosephs-Plaiz,* extends in a perfectly 
unbroken line for the length of 4B6 feet 
(English). It is 66 feet high, except in the 
centre, where the height is increased to 
9fi by the addition of another order, for the 
extent of eleven windows, or somewhat 
more than half the length of the front; there 
being iwenly-one windows or apertures in 
each of the other stories. Bo far there are 
the elements of grandeur — length, continu- 
ity, lofUness ; aad when we add to these, 
tnaasivenesB,' both with regard to the rela- 
tive prc^nioD of solid aud void, and that 
arising from the character of the style em- 

Eloyed, namely, the older Florentine, it will 
B taken for granted that it is not at all de- 
ficient in greatness of character and the 
aualities allied to ii, Nevettheleas we are 
issatisfied, less for what it is than for what 
it is not. Scarcely any pretension whatever 
is made to originality ; the whole is toe 
rect and close an imitatioD of the Palazzo 
Piltj ; the character also is palpably bor- 

* A nfiuttitnn.jrian af the whale pilics and tha 
aurenndiDf buildingi, M tJao x labia of Iho public 
•dificM at Muaiah, with their retpaaliva dale* and 
arehilMU, may bo found in the aiticls UmloB, io 
the Feonv Cjolopedi». Tb« fk^ade o( the BiUio. 
tbak, and aome of Gartnet'a Builduigg at Maniob, 
•re |lv>n in Count E. Raeijnaki'* " Art Ho. 
dema i' aa al*o a oolonnd plate of one of the 
aplendld painlod windowa in Ohbniillei'* Cborch of 
81. Maria HilL In reprd to thia building Bacxyi 

B gothiqnat et una d« cellee qni a )« mieux 

rowed and assumed, with tkis additiwial 
drawback of being altogether exotic, and 
not at oil in unison with anything else. As 
a monuinenr, the original is a highly inter- 
esting and impressive work of architecture ; 
as a study, most valuable ; as a mode!, 
most unfit,— that is, for a palace in the nine- 
teenth century. Recourse might have been 
had to the same style, but it ought, we con- 
ceive, to have been differently treated, — in 
many respects considerably modified ; and 
required a livelier and more captivating ex- 
pression imparted to it. Instead of this, the 
physiognomy given to the edifice is fay &r 
too repulsive and stem : simplicity has been 
carried to severity, uoiibrmity pushed to 
monotony, and tu the exclusion of play or 
contrast of any bind. Moreover, its close 
general resemblance to the Palqzzo Pitti is 
apt to provoke a disadvantageous compari- 
son, because after all it fails considerably 
short of that edifice in its mass \ at the 
same time that it is deficient in the powerful 
contrast produced in the oth^r by the greater 
solidity there of the lower pari. We do 
not approve of architectural duplicates, 
more especially when an opportunity offers 
far a masterly and original production. 
Such opportunities are far too precious to 
be negligently thrown away, end ooght to 
be turnM to account by creating something 
that shall carry art onward, and, if possible, 
give it a new and invigorating impulse. 

Theso objections are no way diminished 
when we discover that instead of the fflsada 
preparing us for the interior, it is quite in 
opposition to it ; the decorations throughout 
the latter, both architectural and pictorial, 
being scrupulously, not to say aSectedly, 
Orecicn, both in style and character. By 
Wiegmann, Klenze has been reproadwd 
with inconsistency for having in Ine Glyp- 
totheca employed vaulted ceilings and other, 
forms of Roman architecture within a build. 
ing externally professing to be purely Gre- 
cian : — this, we must say, savours rather of 
hypcrcrtticism. But in the case before us 
there is a positive clashing of opposites, be- 
cause though the apartmenia are in every 
other respect perfectly Greek in style and 
taste, their circular-headed windows oon- 
tradici it, and disagreeably remind the spec 
tator of the still more decided difTerence be- 
tween the teste of the exterior and that of 
the interior. This, however, is a trivial 
blemish compared with one very serious 
and pervading defect ; namely, that of the 
plan altogether, which so far from present- 
ing any kind of beauty, any originality, con. 
trivance, variety, contrast, or play, is ex* 
ceedingly commonplace and moootonoust 
and OS inconvenient witbal as can well be 



^nkUtetun at Homt and Abroad. 

inragined. ft n divided on each floor inta 
two enfilades of roonu, all rectangular, 
eitlier square or oblong, without any 
ioterniBdiale commuaicatton, except one 
part where there is a narrow passage for 
domestics. As feras arraagement goes, not 
tbe'siightest attempt has been made at efibct. 
Not only are the principal roonu neari; of 
the same form, but nearly all of the same 
size, and so disposed as to occasion incon- 
venience, and exclude effect also. This 
will hardly be disputed when we say. that 
the centre of the enfilade in the front of the 
building divides into a series of smalt rooms, 
having only a single window each ; and be- 
ins appropriated as the king's and quean's 
bed-rooms, dressing-rooms, &c., entirely 
cut off ail communication between those 
on either side of tbem. Thus, so far from 
any climax being produced, all sort of fo- 
cus and centralization is destroyed, and the 
parts are disunited snd scattered. In fact 
the wbtlle of this floor can be considered as 
consisting only of private apartments, not- 
withstanding that both on the king's and 
queen's side there is a ihrone-room preced- 
ed by two or three ante-chambers. With 
the exception of the rooms at either extrem- 
ity of the front, nil the others must be 
cessible to those whose immediate personal 
attendance on their msjeaiies does not give 
them the privilege of passing and repassing 
as there may be occasion of doing. 
As Jong as the apaTimenti sre 
merely in progress, and might be freely 
passed through by visitors, from one end of 
the building to thie other, no inconvenience 
of the kind alluded to would be felt; and il 
was therefore most likely entirely overlook- 
ed by strangers, whose attention would be 
.directed only to each room successively, 
without considering whether the whole was 
properly eombined as s habitation. Either 
this pervading defect did not strilte Mrs. 
Jameson, or she did not care even to hint at 
it ; for in her long and somewhat particular 
account of the palace, there is not a sylla- 
ble to lead any one to suspect that the plan 
is so egregiously faulty. If the dining-room 
is intended to be used only strictly en 
famiile, no very great inconvenience may 
arise, though it cannot he reached from the 
queen's opartmenta otherwise than by pass- 
ing through two open staircases and several 
very small rooms, some of them mere lob- 
bies ; neither can it be entered on the other 
side except through the king's throne-TOioin, 
which is so far made to become a meta 
ante-roomi or chamber of communica- 
tion. The only rooms therefore which 
are at all fitted for the reception of general 
visitors at entertainments, aro those above, 

where the centre of the front is carried op a 
story higher than the rest. So far Klenze 
seems to have taken especial care (hat the 
closricai compliment " Quam bene noa 
habitas" shall be strictly applieaUe to hie 
royal patron, Louis the First. In matters 
of this kind our superiority is so manifest, 
that foreign buildings of otherwise great 
pretension will not endure comparison 
with ' our own. For its plan, if for no- 
thing else, Buckmgham Palace may very 
safely challenge the KOnigsbau at Munich ; 
not only as being free from the positive in- 
cnnveoienoes of every kind found in the lat- 
ter, bat also as far better laid out Ibr efiect, 
as regards both facility of communication 
and spaciousness.* 

We will not be quite auro that fresco- 
painting, when employed to the extent 
which it is throughotit the Munich palace, is 
altogether the very best mode of decoration, 
or calculated to give the greatest importance 
to the arohitecture. For particular rooms 
and in certain situations, it may be suitable 
enough; but it is hardly so for sitting-rooms, 
where paintings upon such a scale are apt to 
become too obtrusive, and by their sut^ects 
forming too harsh a contrast — sometimes- 
I perhaps almost a ludicrous antithesis — to the 
familiar details of social life : the opposition 
becomes that of poetry to prose. A mere 
picture does not foroe itself so con;picuauriy 
upon the attention ; it may be gazed at or 
not, studied or overlooked ; but paintings 
which constitute, so to say, the tocaf sceneij 
of the whole space, put forth a too direct claim 
to notice ; and though they may foe interest. 
ing lo the casual visitor, cease to make so 
much impression after constant forailiarily. 
A great deal may certainly be said on both 
sides ; we shall theretbre only observe that 
as decorations for the walls of sitting-rooms, 
subjects in fresco ought, nre conceive, to be 
employed with some reserve, and not suffer- 
ed to occupy too great a space of surface. 
In this opinion we are borne out by one who 
must be admitted a competent authority on 
the subjeci, and who has not scrupled to 

LoDdon.' The beigbt of tbs prinolpftl n 

feet, tbst oi tha pMtiirc gallsry mora ; whila in tlw 

poltM tt Htmich th« roomi are 97 feet high — 

wliich is certainly no very axlnordiasry diffmnos. 

NetMtlielSM Mrs, itxoeaan wouM lead na to mp- 

poae either that Iho latter an mDch lofUer, or tba 

othera much lower than they really are ; luriis 

■aya >■ George the Foortli had a predileetiori fin 

low ceyin^ n all the Mnre inhabttSDla of Ute 

Plmlioo Palace rnnal endiiTe latfocaUaD." S^ffa^ 

eotiM indeed ! if rooma twenty-Bve feat high an 

11 K low aa to aodanger peopled lives by aufibos- 

in, there would be scarcely hdf a doien (kmlliea 

England that would eacape it 



^TtkHeetun ni Homt and Abroad. 


qncHion (he propriet)' of toine of ihs moat 
noted works of the kind. " The far-famed 
Loggie of the Vaticftn," soys Bessemer, 
" which, ever since ihey first existed, ' have 
be«D extolled as the greatest models of de 
coration are in fact not decoration n 
all, but K aeries of pa io lings corei 
ing the aur&ce of both walls and ceil 
iags. As B whole thej possess no archi 
teciural character ; and if the separate pic- 
turaa, allegories, &c., hare very little inti- 
mate connection with each other, they have, 
H9 such, still less with their aiiuation and 
with the building itself. AaoSeringar 
stance of ihe greatest contradiclion between 
locality and decoration, may be mentioned 
the works of Giuljo Romano in the Palazzo 
dd Te at Mantua, with regard to the picti 
rial but iton-deearative merits of which I tor- 
bear to make any ftirther comments." 

After our animadversions upon the Kon- 
igabau, we can hardly be charged with being 
iodiscriminale partisans of the " Bavarian 
Ictinua;" nor is it without concern we are 
compelled 10 admit that the talents of Kleuze 
have not always been exerted in proportion to 
the opportunities afforded, or in correspond, 
ence with the generous ardour of his royal 
patron.* For the faults we have pointed out 

■ It hu been Mid that we hare ovemled t 
raign tBlent in aichitaotuTe, uid ihowB ■ dispoi 
tloD 11' not tetualty to deer; — to ihrow that of 

M pOHl 

ibis i 

3 Ihe 

eel of our jndginent. withoal ol 

with ■ chanter On the PieHiit School 
irhich we eball t»ke Ibe liliertj of here 


bonestlj to the beN of our jnifginent. withoal other 
biw or pertialitj thftn that ariiing fram oar love of 
Uu act itself, nor ii it our fault if we hava met 
with mocf talEDt in Ihs worlu of nine German 
architecti than in thono of the English. At all 
eTcnle wa are but petty ainncn in compariMn 
with Moh a flagiliom offender as Mr. Butholu- 
■new, who in bit work entitled " Specifioatiiuia," 
not content with rsprewnting archttBclurB to be 
now almoet in the vor; lowenl ilatc of dcgndition 
in tbia ooantrj, both aa to iciencs and d«^gn, hai 

(aTOuriHl na witi- - '' — '— "- *'— ■"* q-i-.-i 

of Osrman, whi 

'• The present Gorman echool of archilecture ia, 
taken altogether, entitled to very conBlderahle 
praiao; ilaworki poneaa mocbKrandeari>f conoep- 
lioD, mnch beauty of ■eolpturu decoration in tbe 
«n3r fineit itylc of art. Mended with coniideiabls 
oonatractive icioace. We hare in nooe af our mo. 
dem architecture *ueA ezquiHtely imaginaliw 
itaalUt, Mo>t of our modom bnildiup an ntean 
amd Md i wme few of them p nMiM ooitDatnen, 
bat even of theao Hima appear cokler Rill than the 
•tana of which they are bnilL Id aoioa pointa, 
however, oat building! ars very iuperior to thosB at 
tht Germane, for amldit the ezcellencea of oor fo- 
reign coDipetilora' worka, there is a rudcnoM which 
Is totally ■urpriaiov ; a osrtain blending of the very 
iTorat priociples of the T«y worat Gothic, at total 
TBriancs with the aoariag beantteaofthair school, 
wbioh riioe, in aoma reapeels, htymtd Iht tmrii a/ 
(jIc vtry Orttkt tliaiutlvtt, Withont thia daah of 
TadeacD cormptioD, th«ir woiin would be too 
aotring, too etheriol tt bt kvman. Their de^ni 
TOL. IXPr. 22 

we are not indebted (o his opponent, Wi^- 
mann : einca hu bestows no noiice oa any of 
Klense's builfjings, except merely en pattant, 
with brief and general centUre, and without 
entering at all into particular criticism. So 
far hia pamphlet has disappointed us, for 
though the title makes no specific promise, 
we did expect that, whether for eulogy or 
the reverse, it would furnish — if not a bio- 
graphy, yet something like an account of the 
architect's professional career. Instead of 
thia, the writer confines himself almost en- 
tirely to thn consideration of Slenze'a prin- 
ciples and theory, as illustrated in his col- 
lection of designs for churches, entitled 
"Chrisliche Bauart." Of that production 
we cannot trust ouriielTes to speak, not hav. 
ing the volume by us to refer to, nor now 
recoMeciing more of it— after a sin^e in- 
spection — than that we considered tbe de- 
sigTM of rather mediocre quality, and betray, 
ing a want of biudy. The specimens there 
given of Greek archilecture as applied to 
that class of buildings appeared to ua by no 
meand happy models, nor calculated to in- 
struct, as ihey might have done, had the 
motivea of each aubject been explained. Aa 
little are we able to say whetherthe severity 
of Wie^mann'fl remarks — his faatidiousneas 
and capliausness are justified by anything ha 
himself hns done, or by greater success at- 
tending his own principles ; to confess the 
trulh, it is not very dear to us what tbe lat- 
ter really are, or what at limea he means to 
say. We may, however, venturfl to assert 
that several of his remarks come home to 
besides Klenze, and who, equally 
bigotied in favour of Greek architecture, are 
slill more cold and pedantic in their applica- 
tion of it ; formal copyists, who do not even 
attempt more than a mere reflection of the 
antique, and that only in particular features j 
and while certain forms are scrupulously im- 
itated, fidelity as to the genius and real 
apirit of the style affected is usually lost — 
perhaps held matter of no account. The 
consequence is that the things ao produced 
more or loss failures — neither antique 
modem — not a skilful adaptation of 
both, but a hareh and disagreeable conflict of 
opposing elements and contradictory ideeib 
Little does it avail fur ao architect to exhibit 

to be the leault of the two oppoute ptinci. 
asident in man. CaiHd we tranafuae into oor. 
architecture the onpollaled, oUHinal, and invent- 
*Te bcaalies of the Garmano, we dioald both warm 
ind raiaa it. Bat wa need only to oopy the rioa 
iflhe German aclioal to oomplele the rain of am 
iwn dUtoMtd architceture." 

Thia extract ahow* that there i* at leait one 
English writar— and he himself an arcbitMt— 
who hz out-Haiods ns in hk satimsle of tha Qer- 



^nkiUaurt ut Rome ami Abroad. 

the moat perfect OrecisD panko or coloo- 
nsde, if be at tha aune time lets in see thai 
be bai iruated to that alone ; — that m Tar 
from being a neceasary portion of bia struc- 
ture, it U a mere adjuoct whkb, though cer- 
tainlj Dot so inteoded, elu«fly forces us to 
feet ita owa Taat auperiority over ail the 
reat ; and the difiicDliy, if aoi im possibility, 
of makiog that which ought to be principal, 
harmooiia wilhf or eveo saem worthy of 
what if sngnlked upon it. Almoat invaria- 
bly do arcbilecis forget that by such adop- 
tions they ladtly bind ibemaelTes to raise 
every other put in jbe same spirit, and lo 
display such powers as shall excuse their 
appropriating the merit of others to them- 
selves, by making it truly part and parcel of 
their own work. 

Uuleu thia last can be efiecfed with atuli. 
ty, the aniitfue forma will aeldom be mora 
than Boraetbiog hung about a modern build- 
ing— extra neona parta ; — not a consistent 
dress in which the whole is auired, but mere 
trimminga and appendages ; intended to 
pass for architectural style, but crftener owk- 
rog it all the more manifest bow deficient 
the buUdiog itself in in character, and deatj. 
tute of alt that cooduces to atyle. Nay, if, 
on the one iMnd, columns and oltter Greek 
decorstioiis display ibe great superiority of 
classical taste, on the other, they loae much 
of their original value and cliann, by being 
associated with what but itl accortb with 
tliem. Many a modem soi-disaot Greek 
building reminda ua of Cicero's wilty ques- 
tion lo Lenlulus: "Who has tied you (o 
that great sword T" — for with us ihe question 
might frequently be : Who has Ued that 
ploia and insigniGoant building to that ctaa- 
aical portico t — lialso generally happens thai 
such feature is itself impoverished, io order 
that the contraat between it and the rest 
may not be too ridiculously glaring. 

" Exquisite as is the taste," says a recent 
writer,* " which characterizes Qrecian do- 
sign, (he forms to which it waa applied 
by for loo few to meet the nuroeroos and 
oomplex exigencies of the art at the present 
day ; besidea which, simple as the applica- 
tion of the style appears to be, and certainly 
is, if nothing more be required ilua lo apply 
its mouldings and transfer its ornaments to 
buildings quite differently constituted, it is by 
no means an easy luk, as experience moHt 
have convinced many ere now, to employ it 
successfully, and so as not merely to avoid 
glarina inconsiateoeies, btit so as lo produce 
a work that shall be of high and uniform 

quality throoghottf. To accampUdi this ia 
a very difierenl matter frt<m priKlaciiig a 
decent plagiary compilslloa ; for in addiiioa 
10 a well cultivaittd taste, il demands no 
small portion of ioraotive power : to say tlw 
truth, it requires nothing leas 1 ban ttiatilift 
architect sluHtld be able to conceive his si^ 
I ject in the q>irit of an artist of aniiquily, and 
I ufterwaids mature and finish it up, fumisfa- 
ig to it from bis own mind all that h neces- 
sary for ita completeness, but of which an- 
cient examples stop short. Those, there- 
fore, who are desiroui ihat Greek architect- 
should retain its vt^ue among os, slHHild 
aim at accomplishbglhia; if tbey cannot— 
if, after so long a trial of it, it be fbnad 
utterly inc^nble of giving ua any thing moeh 
better or more conaisteat than has hitlierto 
been produced, and that we have already 
exhausted its-powers of design and the eom- 
bioatioas il admits of, tliey have no very 
great reason to be surprised should it now 
be laid aside for a style (viz. the Italian) 
which not only readily adapts itaelf to our 
mode of buildiog, but derives much of its 
character and eflect from featurea far which 
ancient architecture makes no provision, or 
rather obstiitalely rejects." 

These remarks certainly deserve atten- 
tion, because they are particularly directed 
against Ibe beMtting sin of almost all onr 
rriodem Greek — not to call it pseudo-Greek 
architecture. It is quite objeclionsble Plough 
Ihat even at the best, the fa9ade of a build- 
ing, instead of resulting naturally from iia 
inlernal distribution and circumstances of 
construction, is little better than a mask art- 
fully adapted ; bat it becomes actually ofTen- 
aive and unpardonable when that mask itself 
is allowed to exhibit contradictions and dis^ 
sonances which betray how ill the style pro- 
fessed to be adopted is even understood. If 
the simulation cannot be conaisten^y kept up 
— if wtiat is Greek and what is not Greek ia 
so obstinate that neither can be accommo- 
dated to the other, it is belter to avoid alto- 
gether the appearance of a direct imitation 
of the former style, and only to borrow ao 
much from it as can be properly incorporated 
with Ihe rest." 

* W«TC uehiteetanl conipMitnn tt all tanfht 
■■ it ought lo be in acadamies of art, tha crrara wa 
daily witsaaa wonld Devar be coDuniltad : ^t ibaagb 
Ihat branch of the atodj ia alnoat ths only on« 
which properly belong* to inch Inititotioni, it la 
precbefy that which ia moat na^acled. Indeed, il 
il bardl; aficted or attempted to be taaght at aU, 
bnt left entirely to aeeident. Wbaa price «nt>jaot« 
are nndertaken by tbe atodeutB, it ia not aofficient 
to award premimna to tha beat ; the mariti and 
defeets of all tbaaa oaght to be made the aofajeot of 
a lecloie orlactota ^ tbeaich'' •- - 

' and with lbs diawlnga befine h< 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


JlrchUtdun id Hone and Ahroad. 


Dtametricall; opposed to Klenze, who 
conaiders Grecian or Greco-HomaD archi. 
teclure — for he does not reject the Roman 
arch — to be tba only style adapted for uni- 
veraal application, Wiegmann contends that 
the adherence, or the ailempl to adhere, to 
pure Greek forma in our preaenl and totally 
. dlfierent system of construction, is no heller 
than pedantic aSectation; and that they 
ought no longer (o be retained by us as 
modala. He further asserta that there can 
be no such thing aa a permaneai atid un- 
changeable alyle in aichiteciure, and that the 
endeavour to lovive at the present day any 
by>gone style whatever is an absurdiiy, and 
very much like trying to force a atream to 
flow back to its source. According to him, 
only that which is perfect matter oi indifibr- 
ence in itself, and hna nothing to do with 
atyle, can be indiacrtminalely adopted as 
■uitabte to all times and all occnaiona. In 
ifais there is a certain degree of truth, but 
somewhat of pervsraeneaa also ; for a atyle 
based upon Greek architecture mual upon 
the whole be allowed to run more in unison 
with modern taate generally, and prove more 
capable of application to every dive reity of 
pnrposo, than any other we are acquainted 
with. At all events Wiegmann him«elf has 
not even attempted to point out how we are 
to extricate ourselves from the perplexiliea 
of his doctrine. He ia not one of those who 
would discard Grecian in order lo make way 
for Gothic, because he rejects the one just aa 
much aa the other. Neither do wc exactlv 
know how far he really objects to the Greek 
style, or under what limitationa heconsidera 
its adoption allowable or even beoeficial. 
That he admit* the latter to be posaible, is, 
however, apparem from the commendations 
be bestows upon Schinkel, observing : 

" He is an inspired venerator of Grecian 
srt : bat instead of adhering to ita externals 
atone — to what was'^o re or less convention- 
al in it, and arose out of the circumstances 
of the times in which it flourished — he has 
actually penetrated into ita very apirif, and 
in more than one of his works haa shown 
that the rationality and beauty arising out of 
construction — which stamps the workq of 
the Greeks as superior to all others, may be 
made to display themselves even at the pre. 
sent day; and that notwilhslanding the great 

diitinctly pMalcil oat and dwelt opon t — tbeir fnilti 
or botnlie* m to gNMral eonoeptioB, tbair merita or 
their Mii^ a* to Ibe tiMtnaat of putieulsr puta, 
ihould be eipUined and eoaini«nted oa. Boeb 
direct letaoiu woidd, we ooneetra, b« iafioitely mora 
inibaetiva and impnnlTe, Utui thoee whieb meiel J 
lay down feoeral pnioi^ea; beoaoae Ibev would 
ooBM at OBoe to the appUeatiM) of princlpMa, and 
ftuniih an opportonKy of Aowbtf liow tu ^hrJ 

difference between them and the structures 
of antiquity in regard to many particulars of 
design, such works partake iotinitely more 
of tbe same spirit than do the ill .understood 
and lifeksa imitations of which Elenze has 
furnished us so many," viz. in hia Christliche 

How the above passage can be very well 
reconciled with the apparently unqualified 
rejection of Greek architecture even as a 
type for us modems, is a point wo must leave 
to Herr Wiegmann himaelf to explain. In 
admitting that it ia possible to catch the true 
spirit and genius of Grecian architecture, 
and to infuse them into buildings adapted to 
widely diSereot purposes from those of en. 
ttquiiy, he admits all that we ourselves con- 
tend for ; and, in fact, so far advocates the 
very course we ourselves would uphold; — 
aince few can be more strongly opposed than 
ourselvea to that cold, formal, lifeless imita- 
tion of Greek models, which amonnta to 
nothing more than the most servile and taste- 
less species of copying — slavishly correct as 
to certain particulars, but egregioualy incor- 
rect — absolutely licentious, in all that regards 
taste and feeling. We certainly should have 
been far better aatiafied bad Wiegmann ex- 
plained himself so fully as to remove all 
apparent contradictions, and to leave no 
room whatever for doubt ; still more, had he 
confined himselfmore strictly to architecture, 
instead of entering ioto vague metaphysical 
inquiries with regard to the nature and pow- 
er of art generally, while he is so brief and 
obscure in regard to many points connected 
with the fortner, and which it is highly desir- 
able that either he or some one else should 
render perfectly clear. What he chiefly 
proves is, not that Grecian architecture ia 
altogether inapplicable at the present day — 
such doctrine being wholly at variance with 
the very high coraiitendalion bestowed upon 
Schinkel for the happiness with which be naa 
in many instances made use of it; — but that 
the designs in the Christliche Baukunat are 
nearly alt more or lesa defective, notwith- 
standing that they were put forth as models 
for the instruction of oloera, nor was their 
author at all fettered in bis ideas \n any of 
those circumstances which generally inter, 
fere in the case of actual buildings. Afier 
all, therefore, the more important question is 
left poised in equilibrium, as nducli being 
conceded on one hand as is denied on the 
other. Very little notice, again, is bestowed 
on the buildings actually erected bv Klenze, 
notwithstanding that many of iBem— not 
only the Pinacotbeca toA Neue Reaidenztbot 
Prince Maximilian's Palace,* Kri^jtminiaie* 

* InitiplaiitlUapBlaoa iimaay defrseaaoperior 
lo the KOwgibin, jM ttID Mb as many dagraaa 



^rchiieeivre at Home and Abroad. 

rium, Post Office, &c., are nlmoBt eotirel^ id 
the Italian, and particularly in the Florentine 
style ; yet whether the Munich architect's 
practice is on that account (o be considered 
much more sound than his theory, we are 
not explicitly toid, but left to guess it aa well 
as we can. Now thia indistinctness and in- 
decision are to ua highly disagreeable : if 
Wiegmann thought he could even demolish 
Klenze altogether, and give the dealh-Uow 
10 his theory in recommendation of Greek 
architecture, he should have shown himaelt' 
more in earnest ; and instead of saying a 
very great deal that amounts lo nothing, 
should have stuck to the main point, and 
there battered away. If he wishes to have 
it understood that Klenze is little better than 
a charlatan in art. he should have put, or 
tried to put the fact beyond doubt — should 
have left us no middle course, but have either 
compelled iis to adopt, or called upon us to 
refute his arguments. 

We are, indeed, favoured with opinions 
as lo one or two of the structures erected by 
Klenze at Munich ; yet mere opinions are 
very different from argument and criticism : 
they may be correct or erroneous, just or 
unjust, but, if received at all, must he taken 
entirely upon trust, at least by those who 
have either not the means, or else not the 
ability, of judging for themselves. Thus, 
Wiegmann dispatches the Kdnigsbau very 
summarily, calling it a >< verball horn ten Pal- 
last Pitti ;" and again, condemns the Glypto- 
theca as an unhappy coinbination of a pure 
Greek temple with a prison-like mass of 
building. If it is the absence of windows 
that constituted the prison-like character 
complained of, tbe same comparison may be 
extended not only to the temples, but almost 
all the other public edifices of the ancients 
that are remaining; while if some other cir- 
cumstance produces this cSect, it might net 
have been amiss to explain it to ua. Is 
Wiegmann of opinion that the wings of the 
fo^ade are too low for the portico T — that, 
instead of rising above the rest, the portico 
would have appeared more of a piece with it, 
if merely stuck on to the building, and made 
to jut out from it, the whole front being kept 
of tbe same height throughout T Or, does he 
think that some windows both within the 
portico and on each side of it would have 
improved tba whole — have mitigated tbe too character of the one, and the too 
prison-like aspect of the other T This is 
what h« does not care to inform us ; neither 
does he afford the least clue as to what be 

uoicfiMt, ne 

considers a more hannonioui combination, 
by referring to something else as an exam- 
ple of it. The most, therefore, that we can 
say in his excuse is, that he is kept in coun- 
tenance by a great many others who aeem lo 
think that the mere expression of praise or 
blame is sufficient for architectural criticism. 
This last remark applies far more stroagly 
ihsQ we could wish to the Allgemeine Bauzei- 
tung,* where of the vsrious buildings that 
have been represented and described, scarce- 
ly one haa had any comments made upon it 
Yet this suppression of criticism can hardly 
have been occasioned by overstrained deli- 
cacy, because scverttl would have afforded 
opportunity for descanting upon the merits of 
their design. Among these are the Buch- 
h&ndler Bdrse, at Leipsic, erected by Geute. 
bruch, the architect of the Augusteum, 
1834-6 i and Dr. Hanel's hous« in the 
same city, by Waldemar Herrmann, ctf 
Dresden. Both are in a rich Italian style ; 
and of tbe two the latter has somewhat the 
superiority as to extent of fa^de, its front 
being 112 feet (English) in length, while 
thai of tbe other is lOS. Besides which it 
has very much the air of a public building, 
as there is only a principal floor with on 
open Corinthian loggia of five intercolumns, 
above the ground-floor or basement, while 
the loggia itself is decorated with compart- 
ments in fresco. As far as style and beauty 
of exteroiii architecture go, there is scarcely 
a private mansion in a^ London thst can 
compete with i(, certainly not one of rocent 
date ; for even Sutherland House is but a 
very plain and frigid piece of design iu com- 

* la BDine of tbe Namben of thia work, lor the 
pTfsenl ye«r, there ia an interesting seriM i^jHipatB 
on Gurdeni »nd Villas, by FreiheTr TOn WeldBs, 
wbioh is moreuver remukmUB m aocount of two 
TerjfiaigrtntplagiarHniarrDm Engliali pDUkatioiw : 
— one > desipi copied Iioni tbe teaoai seiiei of 
Goadnin'i Donieatio ArFhitectuie, which, though 
aever exscaled, is pretended to be that at a haoM 
in (he I>le of Aug Itnea ; the other from a duign 
for a villa bj E. B. Lamb, in the third Tolome of 
the Architeotnral Magazine. In the plans of both 
are made aame trifling altsratiooa— the; caonot be 
called iniproTeinent^--bnt fn everj other reelect 
the deaigna are tbe nmn, and ma peeotiar and atrik- 
ing. thai once Ken, the; can hardlj (kil lo be ia- 
mediatelj recognized. As to Goodwin, be wu 
not an overscmpnloui pemn himtelf, as b evident 
ftom the ezpoaore of his condnet with regard to 
that portion of hia wuik of whioh the Fniheir has 
availed himasif hi tst^ freely. Ai reapaoU the 
other design, he doei not pretend to isj where it 
baa been eracted, but obaftrves that it is ooniidered 
England, quite a pattern of its kind ; and 
fore ought to have given ita authoi*iiunie ; 
■ the aupprenion of the mention of the 
'hence tbe two deaigna are derived, that 
'orat part of the deception prao. 
tiaed by the Ficiherr, 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


^nAitectwe at Home and Abroad. 


pariaoa; and both NorMk House, in St. 
James's Square, tuid Buckingham House, 
Pall Mall, are absolutely homely. To soy 
the truth, it may fairly challenge nlniost any 
one at our Clubhouses — at least of those 
already erected — for we must nol, as yet, 
include the Reform Club, whose facade pro- 
mises to eclipse all ils neighbours. We call 
attention to this example all the more, be- 
cause we have nothing similar &t home : on 
the conlmrj', so far from any stimulus hav- 
ing been given of late years to architectural 
display in the town residences of our nobility 
and persona of fortune, it would rather seem 
that the trumpery show and flaring tawdri. 
ness of the Terraces in the Regent's Park, 
and othur barrack-like ranges of buildings of 
that doss, have brought the system into disre- 
pute; and it certainly must be acknowledged 
that the plain and perfectly unassuming brick 
froDta of houses far more costly and spa- 
cious than those just alluded to, nave a far 
more aristocratic look than the others, whose 
grandeur is nothing more than overgrown 
Iittlenesa, and meanness tricked out in the 
coar^at finery ; truly may ihey be described 
as the very Brummagem of architecture,* 

That oihor private town houses of a very 
superior character besides that of Dr. H&rtel 
hove been erected in Germany within the 
few last years, is shown by that belonging to 
Dr. Abendrotb, uf Hamburgh, and forming 
one of the designs in Chateauneuf's Archi- 
tectura Domestita, where it is illustrated not 
only by plans and elevations, but by sections 
and plates of detail. Recent circumstances 
have rendered M, Chateauneuf's name ra- 
ther fainiliar to the English public, he bav. 
ing obtained the second premium in the 
competition for the Royal Exchange) and 
the taste be has displayed in the house just 
referred to, particularly in the staircase and 
some other parts of the interior, as welt as 
in the arrangement of the rooms, and the 
variety of their forms, produces an agreeable 
though also a rather mortifying contrast to 
what we observe here at home. How he 
came to bring out his book in this country, 
we know not ; but hope it will spirit up some 
of our own architects to revive the now ob- 
solete fashion of publishing designs of build- 
ings executed by themselves. 

The last of the works placed at the head 
of our article deserves more notice than we 
can now bestow on it, although it claims no- 
tice here merely on account of a single pa- 

namentkl exterioiof bji nllsti««, not only Ibsaitn- 
ktion, but the Dstore of the building itaslf wool ' 
hif hi; rftrourable to ucbiteoturtltUspUy. 

per in ii, namely that entitled Ob' AMUte- 
tura, and which certainly contains some very 
sensible and clever_ remarks weil deserving 
the consideration of professional men. It 
must be confessed that the writer speaks 
more from feeling and from his own impres- 
sious than from his study of the art, snd that ^ 
he contemplates this exclusively from a poet- 
ical point of view ; yet it is not on that ac- 
count less deserving the attention of archi- 
tects. On the contrary, it will heof service, 
we may hope, by d'vsiling in the forcible 
mannerit does upon those quolities of design 
which architects themselves are apt to over- 
look — at least to consider comparatively un- 
important and hardly worth the study neces- 
sary to secure them — namely, character and 
expression, " Has the spirit ofarchitecture" 
(he asks) ''entirely passed away in this our 
time, that notwithstanding the enormous sums 
expended upon mauy of them, so very few of 
our buildings have any pretension to rank as 
works of art, or exhibit proof of having been 
conceived in the genius, or even the taste of 
the styles professed to be followed ?" Wheth- 
er architects will be disposed to pardon the 
reproaches he brings against them on ac- 
count of thu warm enthusiasm for art which 
dictates these, we do not pretend to say : but 
he certainly does reproach them with show- 
ing themselves utterly insensible to the beau- 
lies of their own models. The art, he com- 
plains, hasbeen reduced to little morethan a - 
trifling copying of littlo conventional niceties, 
while all fidelity as to character is, for the 
most part, whoNy disregarded, and apparent- 
ly held unworthy a moment's considerBiion. 
Scarcely ever can such a system produce 
any thing belter than either feeble or else 
forced imitations of styles which are in them 
selves exploded, and have become to us as 
dead languages of tho art. ' We do not, how- 
ever, quite agree with Gogol in all his re- 
marks : the following passage for instance 
is amusing at least if not instructive. 

" Walter Scott was tho first who swept 
away the dust from Gothic architecture and 
showed it to the world in all its beauty. 
From that time a taste for it has spread ra- 
pidly, and in England almoat all the new 
churches are erected in that style- Tbej 
are very charming (niiiri:), very pleasing to 

Se eye ; but, alas 1 tbejr have nothing of 
at true grandeur which breathes in the 
vast" (and be might have added, in the 
smallest) '■ edifices of former ages. Notwith- 
atendingthelr pointed windows, their pinna- 
cles «nd spires, they hove upon the whole 
but very little of the genuine Gothic charac- 
ter, but evidently depart considerably from 
their models-" 

TothelastoflheMobeemtioni we freely 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

IdtniHf ofEngtuH, Clattieat, 


ftsKirt, but we think that the commeDdation 
bestowed upon our modern Gothic churches 
generslty is by far too liberal ; there being 
only ft few exceptions among them of which 
it can be aftid that Ihey are " very charmhig 
Bnd very pleasing to the eye." Further on 
Gogol recommends Oriental architecture as 
a mine wherein many useful maleriols might 
be found, and from which many valuable 
hints and ideas might be derived, — much 
certainly, that might be ingrafted upon Goth- 
ic for domestic architecture, and particular- 
ly for interior embellishment, — that is, in the 
hands ofan architect "gifted with the inven- 
tion and the feeling of a poet." One remark 
of (his writer which deserves especial consi- 
deration is, that while so much laste is dis- 
played in the other ornamental arts, which, 
instead of being tethered to precedents, are 
freely allowed to exert novel combinations, 
all origlnahty of detail is strictly interdicted 
in architeclure, as nothing less than most 
mischievous innovation ; yet surely full as 
much latitude might be allowed in the or- 
naments if not the proportions of a capital 
as we Snd in those of antique vases, which 
although all fashioned alter one or two gener- 
al types, exhibit an endless diversity i^n their 
details. It is true that not every one who 
calls himself an architect can be safely trust- 
ed to depart at all from established rules and 
models ; but (his perhaps is in a great mea- 
sure owing (o their having been trained from 
the very first to look upon it as (heir duty 
not to cultivate their invention and form their 
taste upon the best examples of Grecian or 
Gothic art, but to repress it altogether. At 
all events, however, this is no reason why 
the more talented should be interdicted from 
doing what others cannot. The (xermana 
have less of (his Neophobia in architecture 
than almost any other people ;— Schinkel we 
need not name, but as nnotber strong instance 
of the free scope allowed in invention we 
may refer to the Architectonisches Album, 
which contains designs by Staler and Strask 
hr (he buildings proposed to be a(tached to 
the railway between St. PeteraburgandPav- 
lovsk. The length lo which our article has 
reached preven(B our enteriDg into any ob- 
■ervationa upon them ; ell therefore we add 
is, that in this age of railroads it is to be 
hoped that their "stations" and "termini*.* 
will be allowed to afford some employment 
for Bichilects, and originate a class and 
style of buildings totally distinct from those 
we have at present. 


Art.\. —Akhlak-i-Jala<fy,fnmAePfTtum 
of Jantf Mohatnmed Aiaad. PraelieaJ 
Philotophy of ike Mohammedant. Print* 
cd for the Oriental Translation Pond, 
Translated by W. F. Thompson, Esq. of 
the Bengal Civil Servile. London: 1830. 

AtTBonoE the labours of the Oriental Trane- 
n Fund have been so long before the 
British and Foreign public, and thoueh tha 
Society itself, in the years that have ekpsed 
since its formation, has fully sustained (he 
promise of its commencement, and brought 
to the European eye so many of the treasures 
that lay (ill (hen hidden in the obscurity 
of oriental Isnguages; although the rela- 
' ins of Europe with the East are hourly 
id daily increasing both in number and im- 
portance ; although the connection of these 
two portions of the globe has long been ce. 
mented, and on the part of Great Britain in 
particular most closely by ties of family or 
personal interest as well aa afiection ; — 
though the growing importance of eastern 
couniriea commercislly and politically, stim- 
ulates alike both selfishness and philanthropy, 
public and private, to foster the cultivation 
and improvement both of the soil and inhab- 
itants of the various realms of Asia; — though 
the neglect of these obvious considerations 
has repeatedly entailed disaster and dislre^ 
upon whole bodies of individuals in Europe, 
if not upon its nations; and though these 
evils have been undeniably brought about by 
ignorance, not less on the one side than the 
other ; — of (he Asiatic, as to sound, enlight- 
ened principles of domestic government and 
foreign intercourse; of the European, as (o 
the real character, prejudices, and peculiari. 
ties of the nations wiih whom he has to deal ; 
still, despite of political existence, of personal 
interest, of private ties, of philanthropic ob- 
jects, philosophic views, antiquarian research, 
religious feelings, and even, &r dearest, of 
pecuniary gain ; the British public, the most 
deeply interested of any in most, if not all of 
these questions, has shown the greatest apa. 
thy of any in proportion to its situation and 
facilities with all. 

It can scarcely be questioned that this neg- 
lect has arisen from want of due considera- 
tion jnihegenerali!y,and in sheer ignorance 
rather than wilful disregard of more expan- 
sive views. So long in that quarter as trade 
could be pushed and fortunes made by the 
mercantile community : so long as political 
alliances were anticipated and forestalled by 
physical force and absolute subjusation, with 
the statesman ; so long as (he scaolar could . 
confine his intellect within the narrow and 
insuflicient bounds of classical information, 
the natural indolence or cupidity of each 



and Orientat LiUralvrt and Inlaratt. 


c!ua, for its own immediaW objecti, prevent- 
ed ihe attempt and the wish to look beyond : 
nor is it till the uittat conaequencea of all 
■bort-sjghied policy are visited upon us wiih 
(be worst Beverity, till China h&s repelled 
ogr opium and leruaed her teas — till from 
Turkey to Burmah all is trouble, violence, 
and injustice-~lill history turns, hopeless, 
fhioi the pages of Greece, and the key of 
Egyptian hieroglyphics is broken in thai rude 
and rusted lock — that we begin to suspect 
there has been someihing amiss. The ru- 
pee-tree of Hiodostan boa been shaken of its 
fruit, and the balances of silver syce mock 
die opium's wakened dream : — if we soothe 
the ruined Turk, we are hated by Burmah, 
Cabul aud Persia ; and the boast of cisssic 
elucidation proves but its delusive vanity. 
Had those three great classes of our coun- 
trymen studied with a larger and roore com- 
preheosive istellect the spirit of Eastern 
nations, as developed in their institutions, 
tbey would have seen (bat neither the com. 
meroe, the policy, nor the genius of these 
nations could be actuated by the same rules 
that form the standard of Europe, 

It is the learned who are chiefly to Uame: 
for the knowledge derivable from books is 
tbeir avowed care ; through them must it 
flow in gradusl and practical wisdom to ibe 
Other classes of society ; and it is for this 
that their seminaries are endowed by the 
liberal, and supported and guarded by the 
Slate, lite scholar, placed from certain 
evidences of bis ability in situatioos of hoo' 
ouTable competence by the institutiona of his 
country, owbn that country a positive duty 
return : hia ease is not consulted that it mi , 
degenerate into sloth, his library is not stored 
that be may close his eyes in repletion, his 
pockets are not filled to be rrwrely emptied 
into bis cliest, nor is the earlier leisure of his 
college intended as a dormitory. The man 
of learning, so placed, is bound to look 
abroad as well as at home; the living world 
of literature a his proper sphere ; mental 
activity is his duty, to himself and his 
ti7men; and if he fails in this, and, wrapping 
himself up ia the fat slumbers of oootniied 
prejudice, neglects to acquire or circulate the 
infoimaiion to which he should be devoted, 
ho injures the charges iotrusled lo his care, 
and abuses the ho^pilaliiy that feeds him ; 
be is a falsa steward, on ungrateful guest. 

A vulgar error has gone forth lately into 
the world that only a little learning is a useful 
thing, nnd ahatlownt'ss is the order of the 
day: even the greater number of the really 
learned who openly oppose this dictum, act, 
though with some modification, upon its 
principle. But is it necessary, wc would 
ask, that if a long portion of life should bo 

devoted to studying the wisdom of antiquity, 
ii a Biill larger portion should be wasted 
shutting out; or rejecting, wisdom from 
any other entrance 1 Surely he who has 
learned to weigh and feel the- pure spirit of 
ancient genius, is the very fitteat to weigh 
and appreciate the aense of other nations. 
Why, having studied in one point, should ha 
exclude all the rest 1 Why confine himself 
to one or two lauguages when there are 
twenty open to him? [a there no possibil- 
ity of a stimulus afler manhood? noexercis. 
, no degrees, but those for boys I 
Did the statesman assist the formation of 
iw proerassionsofreal knowledge at home, 
I would not be so of\en mistaken as to tha 
genius of distant nations. Fellowships might 
be created, endowments directed to cherish, 
id hoooura to reward ihe cultivators of such 
ide fields. But hia should be. not a direct 
but a mond influence ; liis duty is to lead 
the public energies, not to bribe them : he 
light aol on public opinion, and this would 
act on the universities. 

.^nd here would be the gain of the mer- 
chant. He would not by force orfraud violate 
the laws of man and Qod so widely and so 
generally, did he know that tha races be scorns 
as barbarians have rules of conduct andjustice, 
and would yield more profit by culiivation, 
care, and management, than by treachery 
and wrong. If suSicienlly enlightened him- 
self he would seek to enlighten others, as 
the surest way to attain hia ends at lost. 

If the statesman is le«s obviously interested 
in the question, it can be only because the in. 
tereata of the community are vested in him, 
to be maintained in prefbreaca to his own. 
But if hia own glory and the good of his 
country are ai heart he will duly feel the ad- 
vantages to be derived from the progress of 
civilisation and enlightenment, not only in 
those lands but at home, and with himself; 
since by becoming, so ttrsay, practically con- 
versant with tlie habits and feelinge of distant 
aad barbarotis nations, he teams to know and 
appreciate their position, capabilities, and 
wante, and is prepared to avail himself of 
these for the welfare of his native land, the 
ccnsolidaiion of her strength, snlargement of 
lier relations, the increase of her influence, 
oaddiflusiooofhercommerce. ftisonly by 
a thorough acquaintance wiih all that is 
around him that he learns to enter into and 
familiarize himself with the spirit and nation- 
al feeling of every part; — a point too long 
neglected :-^and it isonly by tbedialribution of 
this information, thoroughly infused into the 
daily nutriment of his nation at home, that ha 
can expect to be supported by ihcm, as the 
vigilant guard and watch post of their (Mim- 
munital rights. Had such measi)res been 



IdentHy o/Engliih, Clatneal, 


UJceD and such vigilance exerted in propor- 
tion to the growjnff interetits of our .political 
and commercial relations with the Bast, would 
Dost Mahommed have been rejected t 
alljf till he was forced or won over 
enmity 1 would Turkey have been neglected 
till ^eaank, — or Persia afTronled till roused 
into querulous wrath T would Central Asia 
have to be only now explored, to ascertain 
her political and commercial tendencies? 
would the Indus trade be but now ailcrnpting ? 
would indigo be growing wild, and apiui 
lately unknnwn, in Ceylon? and would not 
Assam, if explored and cultivated some 
few years sooner, have by ibis time afTorded 
an omple supply of that tea, which is the sole 
link ofChiDa to Europe, beyond the infamy 
of national smuggling ? These are uol con- 
siderations for the minister alone ; they are 
tbevitalpoinlsof that commerce on which the 
greatness of England depends ; and private 
ibrlunes and public welfare alikedemand ex- 
ertions, new and ceaseless, and forbid the 
statesman's slumbering at his arduous post, 
or confining his views and energies to the 
narrow scale of Europe alone, unless he 
would cramp, embarrass, depress, and finally 
ruin, the merchant. 

In all queslionsofnationaland other import- 
ance the Future, to be succeasful, should be 
the child of the Past ; and the speculati 
that are to bias and control the former must 
be based on the experience acquired through 
ages of existence. The moments of the Pre. 
sent are but the passing steps by which life 
mounts from that Past, to the Future of un- 
horizoned and indefinite Time. If we would 
that this shall bring something more than 
barren repentance for ourselves, and a leg- 
acy of errors for our descendants to correct 
while they execrate, we must strive to ox- 
tract the spirit of ancient and modem infor. 
roation, and shape it into the Ethics of politi- 
cal aod national conduct- Yet to examine 
but ft portion of the world ia to dismember 
reason, and deatroy half the reign and more 
than half the efficiency of wisdom Where 
has information been narrowed that it has not 
become a mockery 1 and when has inquiry 
rejected a whole series of facts without turn- 
ing the rest into a destructive fallacy ? 

If such are the data of the active world, 
they do not change their form in the spe<;ula- 
live. We would ask the renowned scholars 
of England and Europe, and centuries upor) 
centuries stand included in lbs question.. How 
much of antiquity is really known to them 
— how many asccrtaiaed facts they have 
dwiiiterred by their labours! The statc- 
roenls of Sanchontalho are given - up as a 
hopeless jumble; the tradiiionsof Berosua 
as unsupported and unsupportablo ? the oarly 

lexis of Holy Writ are but the PelJon and 
Ossaof Euccessivestrife: the realmofCrea- 
lion but a listed battle-field for the church 
militant of Geology \ Where are the first 
fourteen dynasties of Egypt — and where the 
mocking promise of hieroglyphic revelations? 
Whence came the Greeks, whom we know 
to have sprung from the ground ; though we 
know also that ihey descended from ancea- 
tors, of whom also we know — that they and 
we know nothing? Who were the Etruscans, 
and whence arose their rites? What was 
the early history of Rome 7 and how cornea 
it belter known to two modern Germans 
than to its actual inhabitants ? Cannot 8000 
years of ClasMcs assist us to a few facta? 

If then their scope is inefficient, should not 
learning extend its range, instead of sitting 
down in the Professor's chair of ignorancel* 
Surely the eagle wings of European science 
had long enough been spread o»er the bar. 
ren East, before the Chinese joadslone and 
printing were known to Europe : Eastern 
niceties of maihemalical measurement, even 
late in our days, have been brought in to 
rectify, and enlarge, the calculations of the 
West s and an earlier effort than the recent 
and rational inquiry might long ago have 
taught Britain the reedy manufacture of steel 
by the principles of chemistry, known in In- 
dia ages before the days of Alexander! 
The oversight is surely a stigma upon our 
unquostionabio intelligence, and no less un- 
questionable indolence and self-sufficiency. 

irScience, thus improved, will still ignore 
all Elastern advances, is Learning to follow 
her example and be content to stop her ca- 
reer altogether? How con the heart of the 
scholar rest satisfied to rely, in his ignorance 
of antiquity, upon those classical authorities, 
whereof the Greek is fable, and the Roman, 
falsification 1 Both fall confessedly short 
of the truth he seeks, or at least a#ects to 
seek ; and yet he is content to be told by one 
or two earliest labourers in Oriental fields 
that nothing there will assist him. Surely 
the scansion of Greek writers in Greek 
igedies is not n more important inquiry 
m to discover how the Greeks (iho Ro- 
loa after them only), the Indians, and the ' 
Chinese came to have a theatre, so totally 

' Ths iree-direllinfi Koakiei of Dr. Spry would 
it luTB utoniabed Ihe readinj; mirld had the BC- 
eoDTit of thit race, publiibcd forty yeul xgo, been 
belter knonn la Europe ; nr the Vedihi of Cejloa, 
who live in the ume maaner, ihanniDg lU intei- 
cnnne; and nho, when in wint of an arrow-head, 
Ilc., leave the weapon, with a leaf shaped like the 
' ilended head, by niEbt, sear the dwelling- of mme 
lore. CLvillzod amitli, and pay hia labonr by the 
present of a deer, left in the nme mannec afler- 
•arda. — See the forthconiins work On Coylon by J. 
W.Bennett. F.L.S. 



and Ontnimt Ltitraturt ami IntemU. 


unknown to the BBbyloniuii Peraiui, Calt, 
Arab, and Turk. Yei judge for himself he 
will not : and ao long as bfl can ahroud faia 
nnses in the thick cloud of a draaming niy> 
tbology, the Modern will know notbiDg with 
which hia favnured Ancients were unac- 
quainted, and reals ignorant of learning leat 
be lose the name of learning with the igno- 

Yet can Univeraitiea, British or Foreign, 
aniwsr the difficalliee, purely classical, or 
oonnected with the Clamica ? And if they 
eannot, ought they to withhold aaaistance 
from those societies that are slrtTiag directly 
and indirectly for the solution of auch ? ts 
it not a conjoint object ; ought it not, there, 
fore, to be also a conjoint effort with lliem I 
Let cLAsaicisK tell ua, — 

W ho was Deucalion 1 Who was OgygesT 
Who were the Thraciana — and their 

Whence came the Gods of Greece T 
How came the tale of Tereua and Philo. 
mela into Greece 1 

How b it that the traditiooa of the East 
constantly saaimilate to the allusions in 
Homer t 

How oomes the conformity of the story of 
Circe with a tale of the Ceylonese T 

Whence is the story of Polyphemus 
known in India 1 

Who was the musician Tbamyria ? 
Whence came the name of the Syrens T 
Howcamethe Doric fonns in the Tamull 
What is the etjmokigy of the word 


What was, and whence origmated, the 
primary difilinnce of the Greek and Roman ! 
worship t I 

Whence comes the identity of the stories j 
of Osiris and HothirT ' 

Who were the PhcBnicians T I 

Why do Greek and Latin resemble tbe 
Sanscrit 1 

Did India borrow cards* from Burope T 

How is it that the Egyptian crown, and 
Egyptian name, of Priest) are found in Cey- 
lon — and of the Chief Priest only } 

How comes the English letter, I, to be the 
Eastern a-ee, the Greek and German e-i T 
and whence the identity of these 1 

How are so many peculiarities and pro- 
vincialisms of the English tcKigue purely 
Eastern ?— the same of tbe French and Grer- 

What is the origin of tbe name of Rome 1 

Why was PebruBrythe ancient Persian 
and Roman month of purification ; and 
Valentine's day mcred to the Indian god of 
mslrimony t 

r. 23 

We are well aware that tbe answer to 
variousof these queries will be referred to 
the intercourse of the Oreeka Sk. with 
Asia : but it will require a very respectable 
degree of ignorance as to Eastern customs 
to affirm, that the mrae important and funda- 
mental of these coimudences were received 
by the natives of the East from strangers 
and conquerors, end incorporated by them 
into their historical, grammatical, and reli- 
gious systems, careful as these are to exclude 
everything extraneotu. Did the Chineae 
theatre Spring from that of Thesis 1 Or 
did the Tamul, confessedly as old as the 
Sanscrit, if not older, form its compounds to 
suit ibe phantasies of Greek fable T Did the 
Macedonian, or the Koman, minutely locate 
Scandinavian traditions, with more than 
their Northern detail, into particular Asiatic 
diatriota T 

To hear the lame aoawera or more lame 
evaaioDs of these questions is far from a jest, 
even to the moat laughter- loving who thinks 
of the ignorance thus imnlied in the miads 
of tbe learned. Had Selden himself been at 
all an Eastern philologist, would he hare 
hesitated to prove his anpporition as to the 
identity of Moloch with Adramelech by the 
ancient Persian Adar, fire, through which 
the children of Moloch's worshippers had to 
pass I Would one great maxim of Christi- 
anity have been insisted on by some di- 
vines as singly a proof of the heavenly 
origin of our creed, bad they known that it 
was included in the sayinga of Confliciua, 
600 years before ? Such deficiencies in stwh 

fiut, to go one step lower with our argu- 
ment, we would notice a ludicrous error at 
E resent getting into vogue in our Schools. 
Q former times the diSerence of quantity in 
long and short syllables was perfectly under- 
stood but never Qtlemptcd, unless in scansion. 
It ia DOW. the common form of prose reading 
also. The recognition of the principle is 
undoubtedly correct, but the practical appli- 
cation altogether as erroneous. Take, for 
inatance, the word A^yw formerly pronounced 
LOgoa, now Loggos ;— it not the latter quite 
as .bad as the firet t The diS^rence of abort 
and long syllables is clesriy the Oriental 
system of vowels written and unwritten. 
Whether we take alphabets or syllabaries 
thiaapplies equally. In the Eastern form 
theTaint vocalic sound following the first con- 
sonant, and represented in Greek by the 
abort, (a substitute too for the p or c of 
Alia,) would prMerve to thm o 


Identity of EngltMh, Ctauicai. 


pun syllabic quaatity, but not run this into 
the next syllable as though the word were 
hog-^x, and not Logos. This strange and 
growing error originaies obrioiuly in igoo- 
TBDce of the Orieulal form of speech, and 
forgelfulneiB that the Greek is derived from 
thence. But to return : — 

It is not OUT wiih, it is not in our proyioce, 
it is neither in our design nor our power, to 
meddle with the institutioDs of our Universi- 
ties. For us it suffices that the fruit they 
have borne has been ihe principal means of 
mailing England what she is. When we 
see another country excelling her in free in* 
siitutions of goremmeut, high-toned policy, 
and eenerous patriotisni, and this too perse* 
vered in for centuries amidst comparative 
barbarism, it will then be time enough to in- 
quire after the dotbI source of these moral 
blessings. In tbe mean time we shall Ifave 
■tate-quacks to theorize on perfectibilities 
that are to be as lasting as eternity, perhaps 
because they are as utterly incomprehensi- 

But when we calmly cousider existing 
circumstances, we must admit that politically 
and commercially, as well as in a literary 
and historical view, the knowledge of the 
East is hourly growing in importance to 
England. If then all classes are directly 
ana in directly concerned, it is no longer a 
matter of indifference that the two great So- 
cieties formed for prosecuting inquiries on 
this bead, should be neglected by the people 
and the goTemment. Hitherto they have 
been discouraged to the utmost ; and where 
is tbe source of re-action to begin 1 Is it 
with the UniverBities and Learned Inililu- 
tionsT or with the Government? Oxford 
has hononred itself by the choice of profes- 
sorships and professors, but how many are 
they that attend to them t We have beard 
lately of the present Bitihop of Calcuiia 
preaching everywhere In the native tongue 
to ihe natives. If this were looked on as on 
exemplar: if the aspirants to clerical, 
tary, and diplomatic proferment all over the 
Bast, were 1o be certified that none bul 
those who had ocquired tolerably, if not dis- 
tinguished themselves in, the several lao' 
guages necessary for their respective sta- 
tions, coutd he eligible for advancement, — 
what an impetus would it not give to the 
acquisition and difilision of Oriental know- 
ledge 1 Would the professorships be merely 
sansiDecures T Would the seniors of the 
University, fellows, and residents, be, as now, 
ignorant of and indifferent to the study?'' 

The necessary connection of European 
and Asiatic studies thus brought prominently 
forwaid, tbe establishment of the Asiitio 
Socie^ in a set of chambers in one of the 

govemmeot buildings would scarcely be a 
matter of less national importance than tbe 
similar grant to the Royal Academy. Will 
the Whigs who boost to usurp the patronage 
of msrit at the present day, fall short of itut 
liberal act of George the Third 7 And wer« - 
the Asiatic Society, — (which, unlike other 
InsiitutioDs in England, requires so large a 
capital, and is so confessedly uopalronized 
by the public ; its proper supporters too 
living for the most part abroad in distant 
lands;) — wore the Asiatic Society thus en- 
abled to display its treasures and give great- 
er publicity to its proceedings, would even 
the British Museum itself offer a much great- 
er source of improvement, instructioti, and 
interest, to the British public T The meet, 
ings of that body comprise tbe most enter, 
tsining matter in the shape of foreign infor- r 
matioD to be met with anywhere, ai>d much 
of which never finds its way into print. 
The upper classes of English society, who 
feel Ihe worst tedium of life, and are, like 
their Athenian prototypes, anxious only for 
some new thing, would come forward to sup- 
port the desideratum with their purses, were 
they but sensible of its existence. 

And what to the Nation would be the cost 
of this grant, if mooted, ae we hope to see it, 
in Parliament ! A very few thousands at 
the most, — hardly so much — to enable Gng. 
land to figure in her proper station to Europe 
as the great leader ol Oriental investigation, 
as she is the great proprietor of Oriental 
possessions. A National grant would he a 
National odty; and not less a National 
QjkOi, in the shape of instruction and amuse- 
ment to the people. And it is a mere trifle 
that would do all this ; the small Traction of 
a single item in tbe national expenditure. 
Nor could other societies complain of this ; 
unless they could show tbe same paucity of 
exchequer with Ihe same importance of 
range, as the Asiatic Society, and its 
Siamese twin, the Oriental Translation 

While on this subject wo would also re- 
commend Parliamentary assistance, to pro- 
cure admission to, and examine, the Jaina 
records discovered by Tod, of which we 
gave some notice in our last Number, (p. 
80,} and now refer for particulars there, and 
to the end of this Article, (p. 166.) Brilish 
goM and influence would conquer native 
reluctance ; but some management will be 

It is, then, the duly or advantage of the 
three great classes we have referred to, to 
qhertsh and foster any system of improve- 
ment, any course that lends to throw a light 
upon the world. Yet the objects of the Ori- 
ental Translation Fund, irtiich are simply 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


and Oriadal Liieratvrt and Intvtdt. 


these, have met with little support and 
sistance comparatively from either. How 
long ia this to lost t Mr, Biyce nfBrms that 
Eastern works, printed al Qalcutta, are 

■UttB) Oriental literature is far more general 
than in Britain. How is ihisf An the 
Qermona more rich, more wise, or only less 
■elfish than wet 

The Translation Fund is taxed to the ut- 
most, the Astatic Society conressedly 
poverished ; yet ours ia certainly the richest, 
presumedly the wisest, and, on these points, 
the meanest nation iti the world. The carea 
and honours of ministerial patronage would 
be injurious, the wealth of collegiate com< 
munities perhaps destructive, if applied to 
support ttiie cause of learning and literatur 
b^ond the precincts of Court and Univei 
■ity < 

What can result from this but depression 
uid disarrangement, end conse<]uent igno- 
rance sufficiently gross to clog the very 
march of common reason 1 We have boei 
told, for centuries, that Mahommedanisn 
wposes literature and learning j that llie 
Turks were the most stupid of Mahommed. 
ans ; that their sacred tenets were advert 
to improvement and to good government, 
and that, therefore, the Turks should be 
driven out of Europe, and the Greeks sub- 
stituted in their place. So insisted thb 
POBLic ! Henee sprang Navarino and the 
present political slate of armed neutralities 
ud confederacy. 

Could the public have been persuaded 
that the unhappy Mahommedans do some- 
^mes write ana think, they would not have 
urged a crusade against Turkey for desiring 
not lo be robbed. In this spirit the first 
work at tho head of oar article may save us 
yet from a league to expel the Turks from 
their country, because they do not read 
Watts' Logic and go to prayer upon Fri- 
days. What serious argument should meet 
the random asseriion that Mahommedanism 
fs inimical to good government? 

Mr. Thompson, of whose labours as a 
scholar and writer, poorly as they have been 
recompensed, we cannot speak too highly, 
well obaerves, 

maintained by the Muslims, not so mucl 
with onrselres as with all the western na- 
tion^ ought to be sufficient to bespeak our 
interest and attention, even if there were no- 
thing else In their prenous history or inter- 
nal condition calculated to atlractour notice. 
From the eighth to (he aixieenth century 
the conteat seemed to threaten the Uberttes 
of Europe. The Turkish and Egyptian dy> 

nasties— mere outpoets of the great body of 
Islam— were able, at different periods, to 
encounter and baffle the united forces of 
Christendom: and whtle Europeans con- 
soled themselvea with imputing to their ad- 
versaries a social barbarism and vitiation 
inconsistent with their political power, they 
tacitly belied the flattering apology by bor- 
rowing that scholastic literature, which, 
however worthless ns an end, was valuable 
enough as a means, to raise the borrowers 
to their present state of mental and physical 
superiority. Of a people once so distin- 
guished in the opposite achievements of arts 
and arms, are the laws and habits of action 
to be counted among the contemptible phe- 
nomena of history f Look at their results 
as compared with ihoseof other institutions; 
even (at one time) of our own. Are they 
worthy of authentic elucidation and remarkl 
Tbe lollowine is their own exposition of 
them ; formed in the age of their grvateat 
prosperity, and received by their then most 
polished people as the completeat ever pro- 
duced."— fp. xvi. xvij. 

The following view of the circumstances 
that preceded the composition of tho work >■ 
as new as it is instructive. 

" During the infancy of the Oamftnly em- 
pire, while its shocks were already ftlt to 
the remotest limits of Etirope, but before it 
had completed the occupation of the Rurest 
of European provincea, its ensrgies were 
curbed and controlled on the east by the im- 
posing aspectandvast resources of that great 
central monarchy, which, differing cmly in 
its limits and the blood of its ruling tribe, 
has always been paramount in the heart of 
Asia. In the days of which we speak it had 
lately been restored, with unusual splen- 
dour, by tbe arms of the great Timtir, and 
was atill governed by the greatest of his de- 

- idants. Tbe lera of Ulus B«g and Hu- 
Abulghazy (or latter holfof tbe fifteenth 
century) may indeed be coaildared as the 
Augustan age of Persian letters. Few po- 
tentates of that time but were themselvea 
adeptsinttie learning they patronized. Ulug 
Beg was a dislinguished astronomer ; Abul- 
ghazy n poet and essayistof nomean rank. 
At the court of the latter, in particolar, bJa 
excessive encouragement of the lighter liter- 
ature to which he was devoted, had raised 
ip a host of polished and enlightened writers, 
vlio eeeroeo to make up, In elwance ofex* 
pression and refinementof idea, for the want 
of that solidity and power, which Is seldom 
to be found except in the train of re-a'clion 
from tbe hardships of unmerited neglect. 
Over estimation proves in the end the most 
fatal form of disooDrBgement- 

" While the Timdrian princes of this pe- 
riod were struggling vlih each other for 
paramount supremacy, or devoting them* 
selves Inaupineneastoan ostentatious rathw 
than a wise eultivaifon of their subjeets' in- 
terests, a character of a fer different sohod 
rose aflently into power on their sootb-west- 

■ PqtizedbyGoOglC 

IdtntUy •fEngtifk, Claarical, 

em frontier. This was Hartn Bte, tbe re- 
pretentBttTfl of a house placed by Tjmdr in 

KrecariouB authority over ihe prnvince of 
[eBopotamln, and forced to depend for the 
maiatenance of tbelr position, not on the in- 
fluence of a name, but on a perpetual and 
practical display of nature's nest title, the 
ability to maintain it. * * Thus two hostile 
priDces, one of them the reigning Mogul, 
were captured and put to death; and such 
was the resolute demeanour be maitiialned, 
and the capacity on which it was known to 
rest, that Aoulghftzy, tbe succeeding emper- 
or, dreaded Co attack though unable to con- 
cillaie him. His next attempt entiltes him, 
in some sort, to be considered as an auxili- 
ary of the Christian cause, being directed 
against the Turks, then hardened br yearly 
contests with the Hungarian cbivairv, and 
led by the enterpriainK conqueror of Con- 
stantinople. Uuhemmaa II- In ftn Invasion 
of their empire ha was repulsed; but the 
light in which he was held as an antagonist 
may be inferred from the fact, that his do- 
minions were safe from reprisals as long as 
he was alive to defend them : and had his 
reien been one ol longer duration, tbe words 
of the panegyrist, who asserts his ability to 
become the paramount sovereign of Asia, 
might have been justified by the event. 

" Under Ihe auspices of ibis prince, and 
in analogy, it may be said, as regards the 
prevailing literature of that period, with his 
political position, the ■ AkbUk-i-Jallly ' Was 
produced : a work wbicb, in the importance 
of its subject matter, and the forcible charac- 
ter of its treatment and language, contrasts 
strongly with tbe empty elegance oflhecom- 
poaitions most in vogue at the court of Abul> 
ghi£^. On this too. as on other occasions. 
Ihe victory of letters proved more durable 
than that of arms. Iiong after tbe names 
and fortunes of their respective patrons had 
been consigned to the sepulchre of history, 
the 'Akhlak-i-JaIiiy> continued to afford de- 
light and instruction to statesmen, while tbe 
polished easBysofEashify and Suhailjwnre 
abandoned to the imitation of boys."— p- 

The following passage, comparing the 
stats of philosophy in Europe with that of 
Asia in past times, unites great ability and 
originality with great eloquence. 

"Thu translation of this abstruse and ela- 
borate work was undertaken principally 
Id order to illustrate and exemplify the re. 
sources of Persian literature, with a view to 
their bearing upon a question of great prac- 
tical importance in our Eastern possessions. 
Of late ^ears it has became a favourite po. 
silioa with those who know not bow to ex- 
plain by any more modest or humane theory 
the social degradation of the Asiatic people, 
to attribute it to some radical error iir their 
scientific systems; In other words, to a want 
of averagecapaoity in the inhabitants of that 
half of the globe to which the supposers do 
not happen to belong- The consequences 

they deduce are worthy of the liberalHy ot 
their premises— that Asiatic learning must 
be extirpated root and branch, and replaced 
by that of Europe. Now, with such a treatise 
B9 the present in our hands, we might be 
excused, perhepSj if we overlooked tbe fal- 
lacy on which the conclusion proceeds, and 
chose to retort the charge of iacapaclty on 
tho opposite side. Here, we might tay, is a 
work of the fifteenth century, displByfng a 
knowledge o^the nature, and an enthusiasm 
in the oause of virtue, which will render it a 
deliKbtful and improviag study, as long aa 
duty and inclination continue to contest the 
world. What European work of the same 
era, as richly laden, as widely known, and 
as long surviving, will you venture to weigh 
against iti Political convulsions cut short 
the flattering promise of further improve- 
ment ; but as long as the opportunity was 
given, where will you find a richer harvesti 

" Such, however, is not the warfare of a 
minority. Until the general mind la better 
qualified to entar on such a discussion with 
ttie impartiality it requires, we must leave 
the diversities of Huhammedan literature to 
work their own way in public estimation, 
and take our stand on the surer ground of 
its resemblances. 

" From a comparison of the present work 
with the aulhonties it professes to consult, 
it appears that Huhammedan philosophy la 
neither more nor less than Grecian philoso- 
phy In an Eastern garb ; a twin oOspring of 
that common parentfrom which thescienoes 
of Europe are proud to acknowledge their 
derivation. Admitting that, for the last two 
hundred years, tbe period during which 
these latter have made their greatest ad- 
vance, the former have been comparatively 
stationary, the two systems must still have 
so much m common, as to make it men 
contradiction to speak of establishing either 
on the ruins of the other — of destroying that 
which, properly used, will be found to afibrd 
Ihe best and safest means of effeciing th« 
purpose for which it is destroyed. 

"But with sciences (which are near akin 
to institutions) the question is not merely 
what had better be done, but what can bie 
done. The processes of development, to 
be genuine, must be voluntarily or rathn' 
spontaneously conducted. Where mental 
relations are formed and menial systems 
transferred, previous analogies must sub- 
sist in order to make them a[iplicable; and 
in the instance of Oreeka and Arabs we trace 
them in tho resemblance of their early na- 
tional traits- The predatory habitsand gen- 
erous cast of feeling — the government fluc- 
tuating between the paternal and fraternal 
forms — Ihe national independence maintain- 
ed for ages, in defiance of the great powers 
by whom they were succeMtvely assailed— 
the prevalence of the imaginative, the tra- 
ditional, and the mysterious — the airy king- 
doms of antediluvian beings — Ihe swarma 
of Kenii retreating fnxn the visible cteatioa 
and the face of lordly man, only to lead a 
more congenial existence iu the hidden 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


ihmI OtmhAi/ lAttntun «iNf Inttt t^. 


powara ftod prlnolptn ot astu ro t ha tuwta 
Df beavenlj meBsengon ever on the wing to 
comrort or admonish ad erring butaiillfu- 
Toured racs — tba tribes of birds and aDimals 
son«ningr and bollowing the course of life 
by tbs moral lenon* fa^uloualy aaaociated 
with their habits and appearaDces^-thesBi 
the primitive characteristics of either people, 
require only a little adjastment of names 
ana instances, in order to be at once identi- 
fied with a counterpart in the other. From 
these princely Bavaees it is, and from that 

Crified abstract of their princlplea and feel- 
ja which the laws of Muhaaunad preaent, 
(bat all the races and ages of lalom have 
taken their form and character. As if to 
naintain the analogy after as well as before 
(he point of social organtzatloo, correspond- 
ing to the Elewinian mysteries of the Greeks 
we have the Sdfyism uf the Muhammedans; 
a transcript probably of the same doctrine, 
concealed by a phraseology which rendered 
the aecrel little less Impenetrable than the 
ImpoBing; mechanism of the mysiagogues. 
The tranatuMOn of science from one to the 
otbsr of these two petite was the introduc- 
tion of nothing but formnls and processes. 
The rndimenl— the element — the embryo^ 
WBB there ungiven ; ready in the one case as 
in the other, on the application of the requi- 
site means, to unfold itself into progressive 

" What resemblance, what analoKy, has 
tbe cold and gloomy spirit of the North to 
oSSet in furtherance of a similar union — now 
too, when its nations have outlived the first 
tendencies of their rudiments — when the 
fluence of the elements themselves seems 
lost and overwhelmed in the uniform pres- 
aure of intense civilisation 1 One, and one 
only— the pre -constituted affinity of their 
apeculatire svstems in virtue of a common 
and intermediate origin. Singularly enough, 
then, this futile endeavour to unite the peo> 
pie of the Bast and West, by depriving the 
ibriner of their intellectual treasuTes, turns 
out to be an attack against a bond of union 
moat providentially provided already, and 
the only one of which the parties are readi- 
ly susceptible. As Greece was the border or 
neutral ground upon which the opposite ele- 
ments ot Asiatic and European character 
resolved themselves into harmony, so Gre- 
cian science, the ofiaprine of this intellectual 
concert, is sUll the moral mean or menslru. 
nm of lis maintenance at other times and 

eaoea. The Asiatic treatises and tonguet 
which this science is modelled after east- 
ern prepossessloDB, Instead of being extir- 
pated aa superfluous, should be cherished 
as the best and only vehicles of an invalu- 
able sympathy not otherwise to be obtained.'' 
—p. xxlv-itivii. 

The following is of some interest on tbe 
speculalive philosophy of Europe. 

" Another value tlie work may possess in 
the eyas of the curious, at least. Inasmuch 
aa it is a 'sped men— certainly a fhvourable 

but ■tillaapesifiespMlmBD— ofthonaoho- 
lastio treatises by which the intellect of 
Europe was exercised aad prepared for Um' 
paramount achievements of the present ag*. 
It hapoens, slng^iUrly enough, tliat tbe cap- 
turo of Constantinople, and ttie dispersion of 
learainE amoiw the western states, ayncbr<^ 
aize within a mw years with the publioailon 
of the ' Akhlak-i-Jalaly.' So that at the very 
period when tbe earlier systems of moral 
philosophy were in course of communica- 
tion to the confines of Europe, ttiey wen 
being promulgated afresh in Central Astat 
in the Improved form given to them in tho 
present compilation. Smile as we mar at 
tbe crudity of their notions upon somepoiotsi 
and the extravagance of them upon others, 
there is an interest that must always attach 
to the ideal systems which have strongly 
influenced large portions of mankind, and 
our own progenitors among the numbn."— 
pp. xxxiii. xxxiv. 

The care and judgment displayed by ttw 
translator in every po^ of this work ar* 
the more valuable, as till now we poaeessBd 
no means of fairly comparing the system of 
the Oreeks with that of the East. We tmst 
that Mr. Thompson is or will be enabled to 
prosecute such inquiries as these to the ut- 
most, for they throw a totally novel iiaht 
over tbe ignomnoe in these matters exiatuig 
ia Europe. 

As the work most certainly take its piaee 
in every collection of philosophy and meta- 
physics, we need do little more than extract 
from it a singular anecdote, evincing the 
power of philosophy over a victorious prince. 
It is from the chapter " On tbe Government 
of Kingdoms and Observoncsa of King*:"— > 

" We are told that Haa&o the Bowide, 
who in his day poasesaed tbe sovereignty of 
Herat, and was conaplouous above all the 
nn&cea of his age for attachmoDt to men of 
learning and wbdom, undertook a holy war 
with the Roman empire. In tbe outset of 
the contest victory sided with the army of 
the faith, and the InBdels were comnletsiT 
defeated. On this the Romans raiaed a Wt 
en moMf, and, concentrating their forcea 
from all the outposts, again oQered battle to 
the army of the faitli. These were then 
obliged to give way, and some of ihem were 
so unfortunate as to be made prisoners. 
When tbe king took his seat to examine tbe 
captives, there proved to Im one among 
Ihem from Herat, named Abu Nasar. On 
ascertaining this, the king said he would en- 
trust him with a message which be waa to 
carry to his emperor. tiXA Nasar answer* 
ed tnat he would do hia bidding. ' Then 
tell Hasin the Bowide,' said the King, 'that 
I left CoDslantlnopIe with tbe purpose of da- 
vastalinK Irak. Now, however, that I hava 
inqulTea conc^ning bis oharacter and situ- 
ation, it is clear to me that the star of hia 
proaperiiy haa yet to reach the aenith of ita 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

fdtntiiy ofEnghtA. Cla—ical, 

completeneM^ and ia Hill hi th« ascendnDt of 
Its fortune*. For one whose star was sink- 
In^ in the void ofextJDction, and ihe twilight 
orsupiDeness and evanitian, would never 
have about his person men of such high at- 
tainmeDts and noted exoellence aslbn Abid, 
Abt Jaafar, the treasurer Aly bin Euim, 
and Abd Aly Yashsghf. Tbe assemblage 
of such a galaxy in attendance on his court 
is sufficient proof of the firmness ot his for- 
tunes and the farther improvement of his 
position and renown. For this reason I 
leave his dominions unmolested.' " — pp. 391, 

The importance of forming the female 
charaeler is stronglydwelt upon in the chap. 
ter "Of Wives." The onental Chaponc, 
or MeinerSi relates the following anec- 

" We are told in history, that Hajaj had a 
chamberlain, witli whom, having been long 
acquainted, he was on very familiar terms. 
In the course of conversation, ho happened 
one day to remarli, that no secretsshuuld be 
communicated and no confidence given lo'a 
woman. The chamborlHin observed, thai 
he had a very prudent and affectionate wife 
on whom lie placed the utmost conGdence . 
becaose, by repeated experiment, he had 
assured himself of her conduct, and now 
considered her the treasurer of all his for- 
tunes. 'The thing is repugnant to reason,' 
said Hajaj, ' and I will show you that it is.' 
On this he bade them bring him a thousand 
dinars In a bag. which he sealed up with bis 
own signet, and delivered to the chamber- 
lain ; telling him the money was bis, but he 
was to keep it under seal, take it home, and 
tall his wife ha had stolen it for her from 
the royal treasury. Soon afterwards Haj&j 
made bim a further present of a haod-maid- 
en, whom he likewise brought home with 
him. 'Pray, oblige me,' said his wife, ' by 
selling this nandmaldeo.' The chamberlain 
Baked bow It was passible for him to sell 
what tbe king had given. At this the wife 
grew angry, and, coming in the middle of 
the night to the door of the palace where 
Hajaj resided, desired it might be (old him 
that Ihe wife of chamberlain such-on-one 
requested an audience. On obtaining ac- 
cess to the king, and nflcr going through 
tbe preliminary compliments and protesta- 
tions, she represented, thai long as her hus- 
band had been attached to tbe royal house- 
hold — bondsman as he was to his majesty's 
favour, he had yet been perfidious eaougfa to 
peculate upon the privy purse ; an offence 
which her own sense of gratitude would not 
allow her to conceal. With this she pro- 
duced Ihe money-bag, saying it was the 
same her husband had stolen, and there 
was the prince's seal to prove it. The cham- 
berlain was summoned, and soon made his 
appearance. 'This prudent, affectionate 
wife of yours,' said Hajaj, 'has brought mo 
your hiddw deposit ; and were I not privy 

to the fkct, your head would fly from voor 
shoulders, lor tbe boys to play with, and the 
horses to trample under foot'" — pp. SM- 

Before we quit tbe subject of Mohammedan 
metaphysics we must notice two passages 
from the work of* Sir Graves Haughton, 
whose general high talents, and intimate ac- 
quaintance with tbe Sanscrit doctrines on 
this subject, as sbown in his eJucidaiion of 
tlis word MATA against Col. Vans Kennedy, 
we noticed long since ; they give additional 
value to his opinions in the volume before us. 
It is clear, and satisfactory. Sir Graves 
points out a singular coincidence of lerms 
between the schoolmen 'ofa past age and the 
East: — 

"Entity, implying being^TATw, or ieing- 
WM, stands for anything tnat is real ; and is 
certainly a harmless word, as long as it is 
not made to pass for something real by its 
own nature. IJutiUite, derived from the 
vrtoortAB of the Schooimm, la deduced from 
aum, tehat f and therefore implies tnhat-uTATt, 
or tehat-nui; though they used it for Es- 
sence ; it being held, by the ' Realists* 
among them, that every abstract relation 
had a real Essence, through which it had its 
being : but Locke's reasonings having 
shown the absurdity of the notiou, which in- 
deed had been long questioned, the word 
sank into complete disuse, except occasion- 
ally to whet the wit of modem metaphysip 
-^-^s."— p. 66. 

Tbe Arabs would appear to have repre- 
sented this word by mshitat ; which is of 
very singular formation, being contrary to 
the general structure of their language : it 
implies lekat-ia-it-wa. In tbe Sanscrit laa> 
guage, the word tattwam, meaning lAof- 
STATE, or thaC-iuH, seems its exact represei^ 
*ative. These analogies are curious, as 
ihowing the limited resources of ttie human 
mind, and ihe similarity of its mode of pro- 
ceeding under soy difficulties it has to sur- 
mount. Quiddity and Entity, though ttiey 
have now parted company, seem to have re- 
presented the Essence and Form which we 
occasionally bear contrasted with one an- 
olher."— p. 57. 

Another instance is as fbllovrs : — 
*' The delusive influence of language over 
the mind is equally shown in Alaazel, Ihe 
Arabian : of bim it is said, that ' he denied 
a necessary conneotion between Causa and 
Effect ; for of two things, the affirmation of 
the exialeoce of the one does not necessarily 
contain the affirmation of tbe other ; and the 
same may be said of denial.' When Algazel 

Prodromni ; or >□ Inaniiy into Ihe Firrt Pria- 
cijiln ot Hesaoning, inclndiiig an Analyiii of the 
HuDisa Miod. BySiiOnviiChanneyHsiiriilon, 
K.IL, M A., F.R^. &«. *«. London : AUsn and 

CD. 1639.' 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


and Oritttial LUvaiun and luUrtd*. 

denied a necnwnry coonoctftn betwoen 
Cause nnd Effect, he quite overlooked the 
foci, that these two words were not merely 
Relutiuns, bat that they were, moreoVeri of 
tbat kind in which, as I have before said, 
Efiect is the CorralatioD of Cause : and 
that, by this very circumstance, they imply 
one snothei'i and consequently must be ne- 
cessarily connected. Cause must, therefore, 
as unifonnly suggest the notion of Effect, as 
Father does that of Child, and Husband 
tbat of Wife. But when we have convinced 
odrselves of this fact, it sIlU cannot be ap 
plied to prove, as Algazel remarked, tbat, of 
'two separate things, the affirmation of the 
existence of the one necessarily contains 
the affirmation of the other.' Algazel, there- 
fore, was both right and wrong. He was 
wrongih.his inference, which is the leading 
member of his sentence ; and he was quite 
right in the last clause, which is that from 
which be drew it. though his assertloa was 
a mere truism. His mistake arose from his 
not bein^ aware, that, in the first case, he 
was dealing with Abstract Relations ; and 
in the other with Realities, as is proved by 
his empk>ying the words ■ two separate 
things :' he, c<nitequently, made the mistake 
that is inevitable from confounding together 
these apposite classes of words. Algazel's 
error is last of all metaph}[sicUns. They 
forget that the Perception is a Thing ; hut 
that the relation in which it stanih is a 
mere Conception."— pp. 106, 106. 

We are, however, particularly struck with 
the arraneement " of various metaphysical 
categories towards the close of the volume, 
to which we shall one day hope to return. \ 
The curious will in these few pages of Sir ' 
G. Haughton's work be able to compare at ' 
a glance Plato, Aristotle, Qautama, JoJna, ' 
Zoroaster, Locke, Kant, and Scbelling. A : 
tabular view of each, and concise explsna-' 
toiy remarks, simplify the labonrs of those 
eminent men to the commonest memory and 
intellecL Wo give but a hare outline. 


" His Ave fc»-ms are as followih— 
" As commentators give a different Inter- 
pretation to the five forms, the original ter- 
minology is subjoined :— 

riai(L,\ha prineipU, enetiee: nirw, tie taut ; 
regarding the relation it bears to itself aod 
other things: cir°>, Ihtolherj when one va- 
ries from another : <rrw(, while it keeps its 
iMim, or preserves a unity ; i(>*«i, motion, 
or that by which it exerts a power to act.— 
Francklin, De Nat. Deor. 










., W»i> »»■<, 


nfc w*Tt,alttg, 


lated as follows :- 

" It will not be uninteresting to compaia 
the foregoing divisions of the academic and 

¥iriputetic schools with those of India, 
here is such a general affinity between 
them, tbat they could not have had an inde- 
pendent productioD, but must have stood 
more or less in relation of parent and off- 
spring, whether the originality be conceded 
to Greece or to India. It may, however, be 
remarked that the Hindu systems are all com- 
plete and peculiar in themselves j and every 
part is in harmony with the whole, of any 
one system, which likewise contains princi- 

eles totally unnoticed by the Greeks. ■ ■ * 
bears, in short, pretty nearly the same re- 
lation to the svstem of Aristotle, tbat tbeir 
Algebra (conresaedlv of Hindu invention) 
does to the state of tfiat scieoce io tbe pre* 
sent day. 

" Is the reputed founder of logic in India. 
The division of 'The Predicaments,' or 
' Objects of Proof,' are six, according to 
Kanada; viz: — 

Substance. Community. 

Quality. Particularity. 

Action. Relation (intimate), 

" To this arrangement other authors add 
a seventh. Privation or Negation. Besides 
these cstegories, others are alleged, by dif- 
ferent authorities. 

" Hind, in common with all substance (for 
they hold it to be such), is tbe substratum 
of eight qualities ; vix : — 

Number. Dujunction. 

Quantity. Priority. 

IndividiuJity- Subsequence. 
Conjunction. Faculty. 

This arrangement Is mode ny Eamula. 

'■The Jainas (followers of Jina), who are 
an ancient and a celebrated sect in India, 
and have so many opinions in common with 
the Bauddbas (followers of Bauddha), as to 
have been oflen confounded with them, hold 
that there are five Eftrana, or Causes, which 
unite in the production of all events. These 
are as follow:— 

1. Time. 

2. Nature. 

3. Fate or Necessity. 

4. Works,orthePrIncipleofRetributlve 

6. Mental Effort or Perseverance. 
" The Jainas, besides the above, compre- 
hend nature under the six following catego- 
ries j viz.— 

1. Uolion. 4. Time. 

S. Rest. 6. Ufe. 

3. Vacuum. e. Matter. 

Digitized byGoOgle 

/itnMy 9/ Bt^tifk, CttuHeJ, 

•* The next Brsum ia that of the dtviaioiu 
of the kidI, vhicii the Porseesi or descead- 
uatM of the aacient FeraUiu. attribute to Zo- 

" The aool of man, inatead of a simple es- 
■ence, a spark of that eternal light which 
animatea all thhigs, conslatsi aocordlng to 
Zorawter, of live aeparate parts, eaoh hav- 
ing peculiar offiees ; — 

1. The Ferober,or principle <rf'8ensatioa. 

S. TIte Boe, or principle of intelligeDce. 

3. The Roasn. the printdpla of praotical 
todgmeni, imagination, TolitkMi. 

^ The Akhoi or nrinolfde of oonscience. 

S. The Jan. or principle of animal life. 

" When Ibe fbur of these which oaoBot 
■ubaist in the body without the laat, abandon 
tbnr earthly abode, the Jao oninglea with 
the winds, and the Aliho returns to heaven 
with the celestial Roahs (or spirits) ; bo* 
cause its office being contioually to do good, 
and shun evil, it can have no part in the 

KUt of tlie soul, whatever ft may be. The 
e, the Sonan, and the Feroher. united to- 
gether, are the ouly principles whieh are 

acconntabl^ fbr the deeds of nas, and 
whioh are aoccM^ogly to be examined at 
the day of Judgnient. If good predomiDala. 
they go to heaven ; If evil, they are dee- 
patched to hell. The body la regarded as a 
mere tnatruRient In the power of the Roi^ 
ana, and therefore not responsible for its 
acts. After death, the Akho hae a aapatate 
existence, as the Fbroher had previous to 
its birth." 


" HIb orl^oal ideas are reducible to 


MMli^, or Uie power of being moved, 
which by our aensee we receive from 

Pereeptivi^ or Ihe power of peroeption 

OF thinking ; 
Moiivibf, or the power of moving, whieh, 

by reflectioii, we receive from onr 


-TxK Mam. 


Unity BealitT . _ 

BIttltitndee Negation Cause and Effect 

Totality Lhnftation Action and RtMCtion 


Substance and Accident Posaibillty 
~ . -- - Eaistencer 

•'6. Idau. 
Absolute Abscdute 

Limitation. Substance. 

Abaci nte 


present In absent in 

Tike aad Space. Ton and Sricx- 

"Kant thus reduces every thing to an 
tgAtm, of which hJa own mind was ue cen- 
tre and boundary- 
. " The next division ia the 




respectirely. Under each of these heads he 
places three aubdivialona ; makine thoa in 
the whole twelve, according to Mr. Wfrg- 
man: but fifteen according lothenewcom- 
plete translation of the Critick of Pure Rea- 
son : because to those under Modality we 
have the opposite aet resulting from Nega- 
tion { that ia to say, 


out of 
Ton and Spacb. 
'■These twelve (or fifteen) terms are. ac- 
cording lo Kent, real divisions of the Un- 
derstanding, which ha took, like sense, to 
mean a real aubstratum of perception. 
They were jn his view of his philosophy a 
sort of oriRinal types or itandards, which 
in every thing perceived was referable, and 
which confer their form upon every object 

according to Kant, unites the twelve Cate- 
gories thai exist in the UnderaiandinE, and 
which are themsel vea oui of Time and Space, 
into Biz ideas, which are abaolutAi namely 

Digitized byGoOgIc 

Mid Oruniat LUemlm-t and InUrttit. 


He ooulderB Bofta6n eu a spoinaiwttr ot 

I Uva Rtcul^. frM from Time and Space, in 
the *ame wa; an theUaderaUDding was out 
ot Space. 

prinarv form {< 
" tf. Nature (the' Absolute, according to its secondary ibrms.) 
" It then produces itself In two Relative orders ; viz. 

The Real, The Meal, 

under the Tollowing powers: 
Weight— Matter, Truth— Science, 

Ught—Movement, Good aeae— Religion, 

Organization— Ure, Beauty— Art. 

Above, ba reBected forms of the UniveraCi place themselves ; 
Han (The Microcosm). The State. 

The System of the World (the external Dniverse). History." 

We have ihns given the leading features 
of the several systems in this synthetit^al 
viewj but must refer out readers to Si 
Graves Haughlon's book itself for detsili 
and the very acute analytical remarks he 
makes upon the lefioentents of each philo< 
toxical I beery. 

To those in whose opinion the advantages 
of education for Asia have been checked 
by the difGcuIiiea that have attended it in 
Hiodoatan, Dr. Bryce's volume* will be 
particularly welcome. The efibiCs of the 
Native Literary Society of Calcutta, founded 
only about Rfieen years since, have been at- 
tended, it seems, with extraordinary success. 
It seem? too, that about a thousand native 
pupils are now attending the Scottish supe. 
rior school chiefly 10 become teachers. The 
feelings of the more enlightened natives may 
be gathered from the address presented by 
them to the society abore-mentioned, and 
which is highly interesting. 

" la the days of remote antiquityi the pee. 
pie of Bharat Yariha, or Asia, possessed a 
aiiperioriiy over all nations in tneir love of 
knowledge, and regurd for the genera) good. 
This region was also the choicest portion of 
tiie habitable globe, and the original site of 
the human race. 

"Amongst the tribes of Bharai Vanha, 
those of Hindustan were, above all, valiant, 
powerful, energetic, merciful, sincere, and 
wise. Hindustan was the mrden of empire, 
and the treasury of koowledge, and conse- 
quently the people were happy, independent, 
and addlctea to lionourable practices. 

"Owing to various causes, however, the 
Hindu monarchies were destroyed, and the 
HindoB lost their learning ; became conceit- 
ed, blind with passiiH), dark to knowludge, 
and animated only to selfish considerations. 
In consequence, ihey were reduced to the 

• A Skotch af Native Eduostion 

the lupeHnteadenca of the Church ot Sootluid ; 
wltli Semarki on the Hindooa, and IhelT CoavM. 
daa to Cfamtiulty. Br Jama* Biyw, D. D. 
London and Edmburgli. 1839. 

VOL. XXIT. 31 

last degree of dependency and degradation ; 
immersed in an ocean of sufieriag, and f^llea 
to the lowest stage of insignificaoce. If we 
tximpare them now with other nations in 
wisdom and civilisaiion, our regret must be 



" But while we are thua aitualed, owing 
to our arrogance, to many now and absurd 
customs that have crept in agpongst us, and 
to our mutual disagreements, we are not the 
leas apt to consider oursetyea as happy, su- 
perior, and independent } never lo think of 
our condition in its true light, nor to ac- 
knowledge it as It is. Ck}naequently, any 
endeavour to change or improve it is out of 
the question. 

"The chief causes ol our depressed situ- 
ation may, we think, be regarded as the fol- 
lowing wants : 

" That of social and mutual interGoaBse. 

« Of mutual agreement. 


" Of study of different Shastera. 

" Of love of knowledge. 

•' Of 0Dod-wiU lo each other. 

" Other oauaes are especially indcdanoe, 
insaiisUeappetitafor ri«M8,aDd thsdeaire 
of sensual Mtjoymeni. 

" Many defeots in the coastitution of oui 
society are owing lo the distinction of Castes, 
Pamily. Rank, and Wealth. Thoae who 
possess theaa in a high degree seldom visit 
other persons, except on occasions of bu^ 
DOSS and emergency; and, on the other 
hand, they evince little albbilily towards 
those who are compelled to seek their pre- 
seoce ; the intercourse, therefore, that nbw 
exists amoBg ouraelvea, is confined to the In- 
terchange or soliciiatioa of oasislaooe, to 
the observaooe of ordinary fomoB and modes 
of insincere civilitr; or, in a word, it sprinp 
from motives ofsMf-intereat>aad never from 
a feelioK of afitctioa or esteem. It is ob- 
vious, tnnt as long as do one feels an inter- 
eat in the good of others, or is actuated by 
any but motives of self-interest, agreement 
or concurrence in opinion on any subject 
cannot be expected; the truth remains un- 
known, the parties being incapable of cor- 
recting their mutual errors."— pp. 6S-67. 

We give a few lines upon the Jaina sys. 
tem. This remarkable noo, whpse aoti- 


Whiii, par Dteh^ptHltt. 


qaity ic anqaattoiiablB, aad nboM esiatence 
nerertheleM is only sow becoming popdiai- 
ly luiowii in Ormt Britaia, ood pnocipally 
(rom the work* of the Rbt. W. Taylor,* 
Col. Tod, and Hn. Poitans, deserve, ne 
think, the closest poMible inresiigation from 
scholars. Their depression is notorious, 
their aottquily coofeased, their candour ma- 
nifest, and their love of learning evident 
from Ibeir scrupulous prewTTBlion of all 
records and papers, whicb the Brahmins as 
sedulously destroy. The library of Anhul- 
' warra, therefore, discovered by Col. Tod, 
(see our last number, p. 80, Art, Arabian 
Nigfatsi) would probabi? furnish the desi. 
derata of at) cient Indian nialory. 

"The sotircs and root of the mjltatriogy 
now popular lo Hindoelan, ia a principle of 
pars and rimple Deism ; the sect ol the Jai- 
nat eontaina stronger traces of this original 
character,- both in their worship and their 
oroed, than the Bramanss. The Jainas were 
once a powerful people, and are now hum- 
bled and dispm-sed : and it is cooirsry to the 
evidence of things in other oontiiwDts, that 
ruin and dispereion should be taken as signs 
of recent origin, and present jMrasperity as a 
proof of greater antlqutt7."-^p. 364, 366. 

The following anecdotes mast conclude 
our extracts from this volume. 

■• Id the thirty-fifth year of Akber's reign, 
it was said of Sheikh Kamal Biahani, that 
he WBB endowed with the miraculous power 
of transporting himself instantly to a dis- 
tance, BO that a person who had tnken leave 
ofbim on one sMe of the river would; upon 
crossing to the other, be again saluted by 
his voice. Akber went to see him. and beg- 
sed him to commanlcate his skill, offering 
in eschanae fbr it his whole kingdom. The 
Sheikh renised to instruct him. On this Ak- 
ber ordered him to be bound hand and foot, 
and threatened to have him tossed into the 
river, where, if he possessed the fecultr to 
which he pretended, he would suffor no inju- 
ry; and irhe was an impostor, he would'be 
punished deservedly lor his fraud. This 
menace alanned the Sheikh ; he confessed 
the whole lo be a trick, practised in confede- 
racy with bis son, who was covertly station- 
ed on the opposite aide of the stream, and 
counterfelten (lis lather's voice. "-^. 3(Q. 

" It is now very generally acknowledged, 
that since Europeans began to open to the 
Hindu the sources of wealth and enjoymeot, 
the trammels of caste have been observed to 
bear but lightly upon him; and it is felt by 
all who have an opportunity ui Judging of 

tiDned notice! of the proffTsn of diMoroij in tAcKi, 
bv the kbotir* of Mr. W. Taylor, in Um TBlutile 
no*, of tha Madiu Joanul of Litentinra uid Sci- 
•ae*, a nnfohriy ialerating qnartsr^ pvUioatioB. 

the native character, tuat what has been so 
' ine and eeneially regarded as iaterwoveo 
itn all bis feeliDga and prejudices, has 
been, to ■ great extent, an excrescence upoQ 
bis habits, peneraled by the combined itmu- 
ence of political depression, andcunoiogand 
selfish superstition. When the influence of 
these has been counteracted by a happier 
state of things, the natural feelfngs and pro- 
pensities of mankind have easily triumplied 
over Caste. The highest Brahmin now 
mingles loan intercourse with the Fcrti^keM. 
which, less than half a century ago, wonla 
have been regarded wilb horror and dismay, 
as entailing the most indelible contunina. 
tlon, or subjecting to the most intolerable 
puriGcations and penaucea. The oublic aa- 
aembties, on occasions of complinaeniary 
festivity at the mansion of the Oovemor 
General, are now frequented by crowda of 
native gemlemen.happy toparticipate in tlM 
honour of an invitatioo ; and it need scarce- 
ly be added, that what finds countenance at 
court, meets with abundance of imitators in 
the ranks of private (asbioD. To the houaes 
of the wealtny Hindu, the European ia now 
finding a reciprocally easy access ; and the 
writer of these remarkabaa himself partaken 
in the hospitality of natives of high rank and 
caste, where even the sacred cow has been 
served up to gratify the tastes of the Euro- 
pean guests.'^pp. 170, 171. 

Art. VI.— irAt*l,4itr JU. DetehappeUet. 
(A Treatise oq Whist, by M. Descbap- 
pelles. Second Part. — -Tne Laws. Lon. 
don.) 1889. 

EcRBXA I — Our readers will recollect the 
cry of Archimedes, when quitting the bath 
in the pristine simplicity of his nature, he 
ruslied through Syracuse with considerably 
more of philosophy than garroeDta, to estab- 
liah the truth which he bad discovered at 
the bottom of his tub. With similar eager- 
ness, but somewhat more of etiquette, inas. 
much as the new Police Act bas cume into 
activity, we present onrselves before our 
rtadcrs in a aheetor half sheet, whichever 
offers, lo establish (he difierence between 
purity and alloy; not indeed of crowns or 
of gold, but of tluil which brings in both to 
its noblest votaries ; and which, when three 
or four of them are gathered together, ia 
ever to be found in the midst. 

It is indeed of that mysterious influence 
which inspires even the dull, and hushes 
the eloquent; that checks the flow of con- 
versation, wrinkles the brow of beauty before 
its time, bids science pause in ils career, su- 
persedes learning, and relieves avarice of 
Its load; that stoppers the decanter, and va- 

Digitized byGoOgle 

Whiit, par Dfekappdta. 


oates tho piano; drava the g'kn of toast 
and water from the witling hand of tempei 
aace, opeos the miser's pursa, itnites sirar 
gars in the sacrsd bond of brotherhood and 
rubbersi and separates^ alas Y even conja- 
gality, bjr an impassable baize or velvet of 
3 feet 4 inohes: — it is of (his infiaoice we 
ar« now to treat. 

Whist I — the very name is mystery— the 
aoand is mjatary— -tlie etymology also is 
mystery. Who knows whenoe it camsl 
and who can tall what it is, or where it is 
golngft Readare whose aspirations refer 
to the mighty past, reoall Hoyle, and Oadf- 
ral Scott, and Matibews, 

>iBut wbaraMpoM thskll.Elrnsau thresr' 

as Byron himself has asked, in vaia. Hoyla 
elndes the eiplorera of antiquity through 
evary book-stall ; Scott has becomeobsolete; 
Matthews himself, though twice reprinted, 
is no more. Slat nominis umbra! for the 
thm names form but one shade that dark- 
ens over the jpast — a shade silent and voice- 
less as that of Ajax in the same place, when 
die snow-blling eloquence of Ulysses could 
not win him over, even to shake bsnds. 

We do not exactly know how often the 
spirit of whist has assumed a human form 
for the express benefit of Europe ; bat we 
are strongV inclined id conclude that M. 
Deachappelies is the identical White Horse 
«o long expected in Indint sa the lenlh point, 
or incarnation, of Brama ; and who is to 
dispose ol Knaves, and Kinjs and Queens, 
accordbg to his pleasure, give rules for the 
donbtful cards, and play the deuce with his 
adversaries ; these may sit and lose in si- 
lence, or plar on to the last stake " in mur- 
' muring wrath," as Campbell so long since 
poetically foresaw of them in the Pleasures 
of Hope. 

It is idle to recall the past with its first 
hey>day dreams and fiuemalions; though 
even then unconscious childhood boasted its 
little all of skill, and youth deemed itself ma- 
lured ; — Bheu, neaciens futuri I That fan- 
cied manhood of Whist was moat truly pre- 
matured, and now reads its own errors in 
the wisdom of Descbappelles, Genius ^oo. 
bles and controls everything. Cookery 
bowed her haughty head before Ude, " end 
thanked him for a throne," the throne which 
he proudly raised for her and himself in the 
loftiest a liil ad es of the human stomach; and 
what shall Whist and whist-piayera refuse 
to Descbappelles, who has made everything 
jn art and nature, and a great deal that is 
in neither, subservient lo her power 1 

We have i:)deed but a portion of the im- 
mortal performance before us ; a feather at 
a time from the wing of the Fnneh Ctabriel; 


and certainly it would be no ordinary mind 
thai could comprehend the whole of such a 
revelation at once. Mahomet and Descbap- 
pelles alone, received, as they assure us, the 
mighty secret in a fuw moments; and both 
of these were meu, and with men's iotellecij 
though mens diviuior; especially chosen 
vessels for the great tasks they bad to per- 

M, Deschappellet's present work is epic, 
foe it begins in the middle, or at the nflb 
chapter, and in a high heroic strain. The 
Muse, it is true, is aot invoked as by other 
bards ; but as the work is written in the 
plural, it (ollotvs that she formed s junction 
with the author before be commenced ope- 
rations; and tfaii proves him to be an able 
tactician, like Soultand Wellrnglon. Who 
indeed would sit down to Whist by himself? 
The invocation consequently is, for want of 
a better object, addressed to the reader in 
shape of a preface. Sublime, Mora), and 
Pfailosophica), as the Homeric Poems, and 
nearly trenching on the same subject — 
namely, the woes of the Greeks. 

"This volume contains the Rules of the 
Game of Whist; it forms but one part of 
our treatise on the same, and we publish it 
separately, in compliance with tho earnest 
request of our friends, and the wishes of the 
public. Thotigh wholly uninfluenced by a 
desire either offame or of profit, we may ^et 
find a suffictemly powerful mouveibr action 

the ambition of pleasiog or being useful 

other a. 

>' In order that a law may be efhcacious, 
it roust be aided by two oondiiions : firstly, 
it must be understood, and secondly, it must 
be obeyed. The first of these conditions is 
altained by those definitions which point 
out its exact extent and limits ; and the se- 
cond, by that reaaoniog, which, by coDfut- 
iog oDJectioos, and by dislioctly explaining 
its principles, ensures the universal apph- 
cation of the law. 

"Tho old law of Whist, which united the 
two conditions in each (h* its articles, was 
extremely intricate and perplexed, and was 
in Itself so defective, as to be totally inade- 
quate to supply the wants of aociety. 

" We hare foond it neceseary to divide 
our work bito two chapters ; one consisdng 
of the rules to be observed, and the other 
containing our remarks upon the rules. 
The former of these chapters is the more 
essential. As it is continually required for 
reference in cases of dispute, It should b« 
well studied, and almost committed to m»- 
aioty. The latter may be perused more 
leisurely, as Its spirit only is necessary to 
be retained. 

" Thus, Chapter V. contains the text \ that 
Is the essential part, and Chapter VI. the 
commentaries. These two chsptera are, 
however, Inseparable from each other, attd 
together form a complete work. 


WkM, par DneA«fpM«». 

" Chapter V. is the result of twenty yean' 
obseivation aod progreuive iroprovenwDts. 
Here we are far from flattering ourselvea 
that we have attained perft^ction. If we 
were to abstain from giving our work to tbe 
public, till we had made ODraelreB satisfied 
on that bead, there would be no end to the 
delay. Bomething we have accomplished, 
by having laid down, in compliance with 
the wishes of amateurs, not an indigested 
and desultory prodoctioui but a rational, 
and almost complete code of rules; and by 
having thus prepared tbe way for future 
emendations and improvements- 

"Chapter VI. is wbotty eiplanatory, and 
merelv a development of sll ifaa ideas con- 
tainea in the former chapter ; it la a long 
coDTersadoD) explaining a concise and pe. 
remptory law. wtiich. without this illustra- 
lioB, would have frequently been unintelli- 
gible. For this latter chapter we claim the 
indulgence of our readers ; it has been hasti- 
ly wntten. In order that no delay should 
take place In the publication of the former 
chapter) to which it serves as a key. Here, 
from tlw nature of the subject, no elevation 
of style must be expected "(i 1) 

It is probably owing to the absence of the 
four first chapters of (he work liiat various 
points of material consequence, (o some of 
which we shall allude in tnetr places, do not 
iq>pear. From the precision of M. Dea. 
cbappelles in all that be undertakes, and 
which is ab ovo, we are inclined to rely upon 
it that the fint chapter of his work will con- 
tain the etymon of the name, Wbial ; but ae 
this unfortunately is not before us, we shall 
ourselves attempt its etymology from our 
own researches, and leave tbe learned lo 

The first and most obvious etymon of 
Whist, is the English phrase, What Is it ? 
^ which it may fairly be deenied a contrac- 
tion : for persona not knowmg the game 
would naturally first and primarily use this 
form of inquiry respecting it, and the more 
generally if brought from abroad ; hence it 
would form the root, and would thus by cor- 
ruption become the derivative. 

Another root, equally probable, is the old 
English verb Wist, as, knowing ; signify- 
ing the skill required : and we lean to it the 
rather, a^ it especially implies a degree of 
uncertainty, such as attends ihe game even 
with the moat experienced players. It ia a 
perfect terra, a complete description, a sen. 
teocB in a word ; ezpreasbg one chief re- 
quisite in the player, and intimating the dis- 
tinctive attribute of the game. It is a pic- 
I ore-thought 

It may be that Whist is simply the word 
Hist, with the Eolic digamma before it, as 
commonly found in our academies, halls, 
and kitchens : and as tbe Latins and Etrus- 

cans confounded f, and v, the word Fist may 
be of the same bmily ; for Hist enforces 
iilence, and so does Fist very often. It k, 
however, by no means clear that Hist in the 
present case signifies, Be silent ; we often 
find whist quite the revbnie. Hist may be 
only a oootracUon, of History, which ar- 
raoges the order of kings, queens, and their 
inferiors, and treats of their strugglee and 
fortunes. Tbe digamma is of equal service 
in both cases. 

Perhspa,. however, the Englidi origin of 
the Bi^laiion is simply tbe vetti, Wished, 
assignifyingadesidcralum; and tfaas turned 
into a substantive in the origin of langaage : 
or it may he from Wish it, used interroga- 
tively. Do you wish iti Do you Whist? 
like, Do you tea 1 and, by periphrasis, Don't 
you wish you may get ill 

Allied to this last in sound and sense is 
the English, Visit. People constantly visit 
each other to play a rubber, and cocKneys 
especially : quasi Wisit. The substitution 
of w, for V, is common, as a digammic form, 
in the city of London, as in other Eastern 
lands. Provincialisms are not, as is gene- 
rally imagined, modern home coiropliooa ; 
but old and foreign dialectical varieties. 
We ourselves do not, however, insist (hat 
Visit and Whist are precisely the same 

Then there is the Italian word, Vista, a 
view or perspective; figuratively, foresight, 
oircunispectioD ; tu:iuaiTy, casting an eye; 
as over your neighbours' lands, or hands, 
the thing most useful in Whist. We prefer 
this etymon to the Latin Veala, woenoe 
vestal, secluded, not to be protaned : a read- 

Kirted by the hisih 

Tbe Irish injunction Wbisbt, be quiet — 
mav be thought to require consideration. It 
is ibe exact form of the word, barring only 
the purs s, but this is not the sibboietb, or 
touch.«ionB, here. At the utmost the diffi- 
culty is but a dialectical variety, elegantira 
cau^ for the Bake of elegance; just as 
slioup for soup. 

Some would derive it from the Germaai 
Wiisen, to know, in relation lo abstractions: 
the objeel and tendency of Whist being lo 
abstract the ihoughle, and the money. It is 
further worthy of notice that this word 
rhymes to Listen, in English ; which prove* 
its adaptation to purposes of silence, even in 
a foreign land. 

We would Soally sufrgest that the word 
is Indian. Visben or Vishnou being there 
the object of devotion, as Whist la here ; and 
for the same reaaou; something is to be got 
by it. In a religious view it strengthens the 
hint we hare previously thrown out of an 

Digitized byGoOgIc 


WUd^pm Stmeiivpiltu. 

tipMted walar or ioooniftuoa in HiadoB- 
lan: and >b tb« bmds seiiK, luad analogieal- 
Iv, it is coDfiTnwd by the name of Ute oibor 
deity, Sseva or See* ; c4Mrlr thu Boglish 
Sieve, which k finelj ano allegroficBH; 
■dbtIu Ihe etrcuraplactODt and discrimioatiTe 
power of thia last dshy. Aoolher aigi»- 
meat, aod of evea greater fbrcfi, ia, that since 
the Irieh or Oellic ia an easlera language, 
the Hindoo Viahnou seems lo be the Irish 
Whiaht nov, be quiat, can't yo 1* Celtic, 
without digatnma, Esth ne dioul ; Be quiet, 
ye dirii.— Ad analogy we earDoally recom- 
mend to the notice ot Professor Schlegel. 

We bare gone at soma lengtb into this 
laborious inyeatigation from a strict sense oT 
duty to the raader, and from ivbich nothing 
■hall indaco ua to turn. We now resume 
our notice of M. Deachat^leB' perform- 
ance : it begins thus. 


<• Oi^ttr V.-~a«etMn I^~Of PnHmumy Ax- 

"Aet. 1.— a Gomplele Whist Table Is 
oompoped of atx persons. The first four 
are chosen by lot, (see Acticle 6,} for the 
first rubber, and the two others lake their 
turn for the aucceedine ones. 

"Art. 2. — If the table be not complete, 
new players take their turn in order of their 
arrival ; and afterwards fill up, in their turn, 
whatever racanciea may occur. — (See Arti- 
cle 13.) 

■' Abt. 3— If more than six persons pre- 
sent themselves to form a table. Ihe tour 
^rst players are chosen by lot.— {See Arti- 
cle 7.) 

" Am- 4. — Every one is entitled to play 
two rubbers, alter which he must quit tiie ta- 
blet to make room for those whose turn it is 
to replace him ; Ihe two players who are to 
leave at the expiration Of the first, or open- 
ing rubber, are fixed by lot- 

" Aki. 6. — When Ihe rubber is finished, 
if there are parties waitbg to plav. a table 
iscompelled to admit two of them, but aevor 

" Abt. e^— The lot is decided by a single 
pack of cards, each party drawing one. 

■'Abt- 7.— It may be necessary to draw 
lots twice,beforeatahleiscomplete]y made 

"Flretly, to decide on the six persons of 
whom it is to be composed, and on the four 
who are to oommence- 

" And, secondly, to determine the cbtnce 
of partners." 

Our readers will perceive how carefully 
the anthor commences with preliminaries, 

• 3ee liia Di> CeltiKheD Spnohen in ifarem Var- 
haltniiM lom Suucrit, Zend, Grieahiaohen, Lftlein- 
{■chen, GemuniMhBn, Idllbi,iUKheD, and SUw- 
iachen. Vcm Franz Bopp. B«rlh>, 1(939. Wa. p. 

even though ihaae ar* rather Hw ngalations 
and observBoces of dubs and society in g». 
neral, than absolute rules of Whisi, emsDav 
ing from its own essence. With so much 
of exactitude we are greatly surprised to 
find that Ihe most asaeotial of preliminary 
arrangements, that of getiins the cards, ia 
totally overloolced. "If/'saiaZadig," theie 
are no griffins, we caiual eat them^* Cards 
are by no means matheniatical axioms, and 
undeniable ; and if they were, we must, ac- 
cordmg lo the authority cited, have them 
before we can use them. How, therefora, 
M. Deschappelles could take them for grant- 
ed, BS he evidently does, would require a 
Critique of Pure Reason to discover. 

We must conclude, and hope that this im- 
portant coDsideralion is fully discussed in all 
its bearings in the fourth or prQvi